Ember

by Blaise O'Connor

Starts in 1987 with John going to pick up an abandoned little girl. Drama insues. Is Dean interested?

EMBER

Hopefully you enjoy reading this as much as I did writing it.

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Northern Wyoming

June 9th, 1987

As they walked down the dark hall, guns out, and senses on high alert, they rounded the corner to find nothing but an empty alleyway.

"What the hell?" They had been tagging a strange man in a trench coat that didn't quite belong, the lightning showing an outline of huge wings of unearthly beauty. "Think it could have flown out?"

John just shrugged, holstering his gun before turning back to the dinner they had left six year old Sam in, still strapped into the booster chair.

"Think maybe it's a shape shifter or witch?" Apparently, eight year old Dean was not catching the 'shut up' hint his father was throwing at him.

John opened the dinner door for the short, lanky boy with an air of patience about him.

The waitress looked irritated beyond rational believe as she pointed at John with her coffee pot, "Don't do that again! Do you have any idea how rude that was?" She walked back behind the counter, disappearing into the kitchen with horrible posture.

"Did Uncle Bobby say how old the girl was?" Dean munched loudly on the bacon cheeseburger, the cheese scolding his lips as he sucked it in with a hiss.

"No," John looked over at his two boys warmly. "Don't eat with your mouth open."

"Oh," Dean looked disappointed as he picked up a salt covered French fry. "Where exactly is she again?"

"Memphis, Tennessee." John looked at his watch warily, knowing full well the incredibly long trudge they had ahead of them to get the orphaned seven year old girl from the trailer she had taken refuge in.

Frayser, Tennessee (Just outside of Memphis)

Three days later

A tan skinned seven year old looked in a pantry for scraps of food she knew weren't there. Momma says the meaning of insanity is when 'ya keep repeating something over and over again thinkin' something different will happen every time.

Her Mom was an English teacher at the Frayser High down the road, her father an absentee hunter fiend. Between girl scouts and her rare weekends with the man she had learned enough to survive without anyone else.

She had already wrapped up the gunshot wound on her shoulder with a piece of Willow bark to lessen the hollow ache in it. She knew to draw a devils trap with the stolen spray paint from the construction site across the street, and to cover the windows with the salt found in the cupboards.

All she had to do was wait with on an empty stomach.

Her mother had called Mr. Bobby from the Fred's they had taken refuge in as the demons set fire to the neighborhood, intent on finding them. She had said that a Mr. John Winchester was going to come find her 'cause she couldn't, "get a hold of that deadbeat Hunter man."

So she waited. Alone in an abandoned trailer that probably had more mold than it was worth. With no reliable food or running water other than what fell in through the holes in the ceiling.

She had finally caught a moment of sleep before the pounding started on the door. All the girl could do was pull out her mother's .45 out from under its hiding place awkwardly. It was too heavy for the thin framed little girl to properly hold. "Ember? Ember Caldwell, I need you to open this door right now. I'm John Winchester and I'm here to get you."

She ran towards the door, stumbling over the worn nails coming out of the thin carpet, fumbling with the lock and pushing the door open to jump in Mr. Winchester's arms. Ember was so relieved to see her savoir that she paid no mind to the awkward pat on the shoulder he gave her as he pried her off of him.

"Can you eat?" He smiled at her, quickly taking on the Dad role he had perfected over the years. He knew her mother was dead because she was listed among the dead in the newspaper: a victim of the 'gang violence'. The demons had taken up the meat sacks of a group of long haired skater boys from the neighborhood.

Ember shook her head with energy she didn't know she had, staying close to her hero as they walked to an old black car. He opened the door so she could sit next to the younger boy in the backseat whom smiled at her. "So, Ember, do you know where David is?"

She shook her head lightly, "He hasn't been 'round in a while. Momma says he's too busy stickin' his 'thing' in everything that moves and huntin' make believe."

Laughter escaped the mouth of the older boy in the front passenger seat as they started to move onto the road, passing a Piggly Wiggly and a coin laundry place on the main street.

John coughed as he accelerated , quickly reaching where Frayser met Shelby Forest in between High Way fifty one. He looked both ways before turning onto the Highway, going towards Millington. "That may be true, but how 'bout we not say that anymore? Okay?"

June 24th, 1987

"Good bye, Mr. Winchester," Ember ran up to the burly man and hugged his legs in front of Bobby's salvage yard.

John and Bobby had looked everywhere, searched and searched every nook and cranny for even a faint whiff of David Caldwell. It is as if he literally vanished off the face of the Earth, with a little demonic help, no doubt.

And, now they had to go their separate ways, Ember staying with Bobby for now, and John was taking the boys to a hunt out west. They had found another possible yellow eyed sighting by a beach in Northern California after a house fire.

"Now, Emma," John crouched down to just about her level with a small smile. "It sure has been nice meeting you. Everything is gonna be alright. I'm sure this won't be the last time we see each other, sweetheart."

She just smiled up at John, her two front teeth missing, with the gleam of unshed tears in her eyes. Just because she could survive by herself, with no one else around, in a rotting trailer for almost a week didn't mean she liked it. She had already developed a hero complex for Mister Winchester: that much was clear.

He patted her shoulder as he stood up to his full height and beckoning his boys to load themselves in the black Impala.

"Bye, Emma!" Little Sammy gave her a hug, blushing before running to the backseat of the Impala and hiding inside. His little mop of unruly brown hair visible from the wide, untinted windows.

Emma laughed before she turned to a seeming uncaring Dean, who had his little chest puffed out and arm muscles tensed. "Uh, yeah. What he said, sweetheart." He walked to the passenger side door and trying to open the door only to find it locked.

He looked around, motioning for his brother to unlock the door with wide eyes.

She waved as they finally go into the car and drove off, somehow knowing what Mister Winchester said was true.

April of 1994

Bobby's door slammed as angry cowgirl boots stomped across the wooden plank boards of his front porch. The said boots kicking flower pots over with swift kicks.

"You aren't my father and you have no business telling me what me to do!" The pink haired, pierced little girl yelled with a horrible shriek, climbing octaves as the sentence grew in length.

"Yes, I do!" A burly man in a truck driver's hat stepped through the wooden door with an angry expression. "You have no right to go on a hunt; especially looking like that! You'd raise more suspicion than the thing we are supposed to be huntin'."

Emma huffed at the man as she ran down the steps, "It's just a stupid demon! You are such an insufferable idjit!"

Bobby's face twisted in confusion before the anger came back with a smirk. "Who says 'idjit'?"

She pulled out the stolen keys to an electric blue jeep from her purple mini skirt pocket, sticking it in the driver's side door and turning it with a jerky movement. "Go to hell, old man!"

Bobby's face turned eight different shades of red as he witnessed her start his car up and take off, squealing tires and leaving a giant dust cloud in her wake. His fist came down on the porch railing as he took off inside the house to the cord phone in the kitchen, mumbling the whole time about "idjits".

He punched in the numbers so hard it pulled off the three button, "Ough!"

"Dean?" He questioned, thanking God he had reached them while they were still in the hotel. "Yeah, put your old man on the line."

"Bobby?" A gruff, manly voice filtered through the phone with an air of confusion and curiosity.

"John, I've got a problem," He breathed into the receiver as he lifted his hat, scratching his head. "It's Ember. She decided to disappear after an argument today. Stupid teenagers."

"The Caldwell girl? You still haven't found her Dad?"

"No, sure ain't." Bobby tapped his foot as he closed his eyes, disappointed in himself for not talking to his friend in so long. "Any ways, I figure you have experience with teenagers. Think 'ya can pick her up and teach the idjit a life lesson or two?"

"Of course. What's she look like now?"

"Short pink and blonde hair, nose, eyebrow and lips are pierced like some crack head. Left wearin' a purple an black skirt with a black shirt and those dog gone cowboy boots." He sighed, "Just look for a crazy person."

There was a pause. A long pause. "You let her have pink hair and piercings?"

His eyes widened and he sucked in a breath, realizing how bad it sounded. "Not like I can stop it. She just shows up after school with another hunk of metal stickin' out of a hole in her face."

"Alright, the boys and I will pick her up."

Beginning of May, 1994

Emma looked at herself in the mirror with no expression on her face, her head numb of thoughts as the foreign sunstances pumped through her veins. She knew that Bobby would have someone out there looking for her soon. Her fun time was almost over.

All she could do was sway, gripping onto the pedestal sink for support, as she rode out the latest drug induced haze. She stumbled her way to the king sized mattress of the house she was 'borrowing,' or squatting in.

Her back popped as she stretched out onto the mattress, not even registering the sound of glass breaking through the thick fog she'd imprisoned herself in: locked away inside of solitary confinement.

She thought about the track marks on her arms, wondering if they would stay there forever, or disappear like the scars she'd carved into her wrist, not deep enough to deliver the fatal blow. How would Bobby ever understand her? She just wanted to make it go away. She didn't want to cope anymore.

Only when strong arms lifted her off the bed did she become alert enough to try to defend herself. She could feel the arms and torso of the mystery man tense as she jumped out of their arms, running from him with all her adrenaline filled might.

"Emma, slow down, will 'ya?"

"Leave me the hell alone!" She screamed as she continued to run, failing about, and escaping onto the street, legs pumping hard and fast. She had to get away. She had to live, to breath, to not be captured by mystery man! How could she avenge her mother's murder if she was dead?

"Ember Caldwell!" It was the voice from her dreams, the one that saved her from her nightmare. The one that told her everything was going to be fine. Her hero.

It was his voice that called out her name now, and she just knew she'd wake up seven years old in the cramped apartment with her Momma. Any minute now.

She stopped running and looked for the source of the voice, thinking that if she found her hero she would be able to wake up, and all the pain would be gone. Her mom would be in the kitchen making breakfast like always.

So she sought out the voice, finding it in the man that ran up to her, slightly out of breath as he grabbed her by her shoulders to shake her. "What are you thinking? Are you crazy?"

Tears ran down her face like someone had turned on the faucet. She had found the voice, why wasn't she waking up?

"I just wanna wake up!" She pounded the chest of her now fallen hero repeatedly until he her arms to her side, "Je veux juste me réveiller! S'il vous plaît, Dieu, permettez-moi juste de vous réveiller!" (Rough translation: I just want to wake up! Please, God, just let me wake up!)

A slap rang out through the now silent street with a resounding shock, somewhat like the one bouncing around inside of Emma's mind at that exact moment.

John Winchester just slapped me. It took a few seconds to sink in. My hero isn't who I thought he'd be. This isn't a dream? It's real?

He shook her again, bracing his heavy hands on her shoulders, "Ember, what have you taken?" It did not take a rocket scientist to see that she was under the influence of something bad.

She shook her head, stepping out of Mister Winchesters hold to calm herself, "Nothing. It's none of your business. You shouldn't be here." Oh, the trouble she'd be in if anyone ever found out about he nasty little habit. It had started just before she'd ran away from Bobby's country blue house.

John caught a glimpse of her left elbow as the broken street light flickered erratically like a weak strobe light. "Let me see your arms, Ember." His voice had hardened to Egyptian Limestone. He knew exactly how dangerous Heroine was.

"No! Just go away!" John forcibly dragged her to the parked Impala as she screamed, kicked, and punched him. His oldest son's eyes were open wide as he opened the door to the back seat quickly and efficently.

"Dean, get the flash light." He almost threw her into the backseat, pulling her arms out the open door ready for his inspection.

"Yes, sir."

John took one look at the marks on Emma's pale skin under the beam of the flash light and he knew. It only confirmed what he suspected.

The rolling veins ran into scars shaped like a straight blade; no middle man between the two.

"Ember, do have any idea what your doing to yourself?" John's large hands shook Emma's slender shoulders, rattling her brain against the back of her thick skull.

The skin of her almost bare legs stuck to the polished leather of the back seat as she struggled to get past him, only to be caught by Dean's vice like arms in a death grip. "Fuck you, Asshole!"

Dean, who had remain wide eyed and silent through the whole ordeal, snapped his jaw shout, tensing his muscles. Where did the punk get off talking to his father like that? She didn't know him like that.

"I was talking to you, genius!"

Dean's eyes just about popped open at the response to his thoughts, loosening his arms in shock. The oddness of the little girl made his thoughts internalize even more, muffling the words his father and brother spoke to a muted degree.

Emma looked back as she ran, arms pumping, the adrenaline pushing at the point of pain inside her heart. Her bed of nails on sharpened themselves as she ran. How could she get out of this? The only way she knew how was to run. Run like she did when her mother told her too. Run like she wasn't the actual cause of everything. Away from the pain to the numbness.

Sobs racked through her lungs like cancer, spreading slowly and painfully as she turned to a wooden fence, taking a running leap to her freedom. Have to get away.

Her dirty purple skirt ripped on the pointed plank before she jumped down, liberating her legs to run faster. Her long legs taking longer strides through the suburban grass.

The wheels of a black Impala squealed around the corner, ignoring the stop sign. She had gotten a glimpse of the dirty blonde behind the wheel and sped up to almost inhuman strides, jumping over lawn mowers and kids toys.

The only possible way out would be the low A frame roof of the church to her left.

Ember pulled herself up, bracing her hands on the flimsy gutters, her pink bangs blocking her line of sight. The shingles pulled up to trip her as her cowboy boots tried to grip the rough surface, clumsily running to the tip of the A frame.

She slid down the other side, feet catching the gutters on the other side. This was it: her escape. All she had to do was drop down and she was home free like Babe Ruth, baby.

She hung off the gutters, hesitating to let go, body swinging threateningly before she finally let go. Dropping like a sack of Irish potatoes to the strip of grass, hitting her head on the sidewalk.

A clicking sound echoed throughout the silent parking lot and she knew been beat. They would drag her off to the loony bin now and lock away the key.

Ember turned with her arms held up to face the younger Winchester. She could easily take him down if it came to hand to hand, but the gun in his hands told her not to try.

Sitting in the back of a car with no seat belts and bad sucks sucked on a normal day. Especially with the blinding morning sun filtering through, a massive headache pounding in her skull and a sore butt from landing wrong way.

"Aye, dude! I know 'ya like your Mullet Rock, but my heads killing me and I don't want to murder you. So, can you keep it down long enough to drop me off at Bobby's?" Her uncolored black roots rested against the Impala's back glass as her eyes squinted shut.

The spiky haired Winchester turned the volume up as he beat his head to the beat. He aimed to annoy after the slip she'd given him a few hours ago. No one got past Dean Winchester. His chest puffed out as he set up a little straighter behind the steering wheel. "Who said you're going back to Bobby's place, Sweet heart?"

One of Emma's eyes opened wide from her near comatose. She groggily sat up, albeit slouching, her bare legs sticking to the leather. She scratched her fingers through her tangled mass of three toned hair as she scrunched up her nose. "Then, what the fuck people?"

"Hey!" Dean looked at her sternly through the rearview mirror, glancing back and forth between the road and her dark completion. "Watch your language in my car, Sunshine!"

"Whatever, Prick." Emma closed her eyes and swayed with the car for a while. "If we're not going back to Bobby's then can we stop at a store? I don't appreciate walkin' 'round rocking a ripped skirt like some Bon Jovi whore."

"Wouldn't have ripped it if you wouldn't of ran from us, now would 'ya?"

"Ha-ha," She jumped over the seat to sit between the stiffening boys. They had hand cuffed her to the door thirty minutes ago. "But, seriously, we need to stop. I gotta piss like Seabiscuit."

Dean looked at her as if she had sprouted a dog head as he pulled off an exit to a Love's gas station situated smack dab in the middle of nothing. An electric blue Jeep Wrangler pulling in right behind them.

"Alright, Houdini," Dean snapped the handcuffs onto Sam's wrist and hers before they had a chance to protect. "You and Sammy can chat about tampons all you want now."

"Come on, then, boy! I want to get one of those two dollar trucker showers. I guess you're just gonna have to suck it up and shut up." She pulled a blushing Sam off towards the gas station, her cowboy boots picking up dust as they did. "You have seen a girl naked before, right, kid?"

Dean popped open the gas cap with a smile, knowing his brother was going to be scarred of confident woman for life, as he placed the nozzle to a rest on the tank.

"Dean," John leaned against one of the black car doors. "Do you really think that's such a good idea?" His arms crossed over her chest as his solemn features watched his sons every move.

"I doubt she can get away if she's hand cuffed to Sammy boy, sir."

Dean opened the shower room doors after they'd been gone for half an hour. "Hey Sam, I hate to interrupt…What the hell, dude?"

Sam stood sheepishly handcuffed to a pipe, his pants missing and head hanging low. "Apparently tongue rings are good skeleton keys." When his brother didn't move to help him his face dropped even more as he gesticulated widely to the pipe he was attached to, "I could use a little help here!"

A slap echoed through the black Impala, still out searching the woods for a pink haired Indian, after hours of having their father lay it in thick about responsibility and carelessness. "And that's for letting a girl steal your pants!"

"Dean, will you stop? You would have fallen for it, too."

"What exactly did you fall for, idiot?" Dean leaned his head over the steering wheel, eyes searching the dense woods for any flash of pink. "You fell for a little drug addict con artists ploy to get away! That's what you fell for!"

Emma looked at herself in the cracked mirror inside of the bathroom of a Wal Mart as the black hair dye set in her hair. She swore to every God she'd ever heard of that she'd stop doing Heroine if only she didn't get caught. The unknown that lurked around every corner with the Winchester men scared her.

She's always had a since of what was coming next, but when it came to those boys, she was as clueless as the rest of the general population. All she got was flashes of yellow around them and a few stray thoughts floating around inside their heads.

The clock struck noon inside the store, echoing like Cinderella's bedtime throughout the mingling store customers. She sighed as she dipped her head under the tap's running water, watching the black inky water go down the drain.

Emma had to pull Sam's baggy jeans up her waist, the front too big even if he was pretty scrawny, she didn't have the outer organ needed to fill in the space.

She turned off the faucet, ringing out the water from her layered locks before wrapping it up in her tattered purple skirt. It was a shame to see it go, it was her favorite.

Emma looked at the tangled mass of black in the cracked glass, pulling her newly acquired comb through. She'd dry her hair in the hand blower when she finally pushed through all of them.

Ember Caldwell looked nothing like the drug addict she been when she walked in the front door. She'd brought new clothes and toiletries along with the two boxes of dye, her facial piercing out for the time being, and make up covering the bags under her eyes. She'd even put foundation over the scares.

She could walk right past the Winchester men and they'd never know.

The Winchester men were clueless as to where Ember Caldwell could have gone to. There hadn't been any vehicles thefts that matched Emma's skill set, no arrest made for young, female Heroine addicts, and no matches at the hospitals or morgues either. They had jack squat and they knew it.

It was as if she'd disappeared into thin air. Invisible to prying eyes.

All they knew was that Sam blinked and she was gone. Just like that.

You might think her hunting skills would have taught her how, but the problem was they knew for a fact she'd only been on maybe three hunts the entire time she was with Bobby. No way she learned them there.

They checked security cameras at every store they could, not once finding a glimpse of the pink hair. She was smart, that much was sure.

Sam winced, ripped suddenly from his thoughts by the violent way Dean slammed his fist onto the tabletop. He was fed up with trying. If the little drug addict didn't want to be found, then let her hide. She wasn't his problem anymore.

"Get your stuff, Sammy." Dean threw his duffel onto the bed, shoving his belongings into the green material roughly. "We are going on a hunt and forgetting about the little Bitch." He meant it, it was laced in his tone with every hissed word.

"I can't forget." Sam turned his head to the side, his concern hidden in the furrowing of eyebrows. "How is it that she just disappears? It's impossible. Or, like.." Dean gave Sam a look that only seemed to provoke the interest out of him. "When she almost got away the first time. She shouldn't know how to do that after a few easy ghost hunts."

"She's a teenage girl, dude, they are all evil and deceitful."

"But, Dean," He edged closer to Dean's bed, trying to beat his opinion into his brothers' consciousness. "You have to admit she's too good. I was thinking that maybe she's been possessed.."

He looked up as he zipped his over stuffed bag together, "No. She didn't sizzle from the Holy Water in dad's canteen." He picked the duffel up, throwing it over his shoulder, as he motioned for Sam to get a move on. They were going to do something other than find a rebellious little girl today.

December of 1999 (Ember is 19. Dean is 20 and Sam is 16.)

Christmas songs repeated themselves over the load speaker, only adding to the chaos inside the mall. The tired looking shoppers couldn't be bothered by the bookstore clerk leaning on the counter, eyes following the second hand on the clock with every tick.

Any minute now she'd be free to hunt down the evil that plagued the back room, and then she'd be free to leave the Wolfchase mall forever. Forever away from the area of Tennessee that reminded her of her mother. The area that made her itch for another hit of the substance she'd sworn to stay away from.

She'd never really been religious but she had faith that there was something out there, good or bad she wasn't quite sure, and she had a promise to it. She would stay awake from it if she was never found.

"Hey, Earth to Catherine!" A red palm ran in front of her face, her ravine permanently broken. "Dudette! I've been calling your name for like an hour!"

Liar. You only called my name twice, Bitch.

"Oh, I'm sorry. What's up, girl?" Emma smiled towards the two faced whore she'd become 'friends' with during the case, trying desperately to get it over with fast.

"There is this weird guy totally weirding me out. Think you could do me a solid and check him out for me?" She smiled at Emma as she popped her gum in between her slightly crooked teeth. "Thanks, I owe you one, sistah!" She walked to the back room before Ember could even open her mouth, fully aware that she was about to get off.

Counting to ten was the only thing she could do to stop herself from making the girl drink gasoline and eat a lit match. 10, 9, 8, 7, oh, that's not human.

Ember knew that the chilling blue eyes weren't the same species the moment she looked up. The body it was in might have once been, but now it was occupied by something that sent fear tingling from her toes to the ever growing pit in her stomach.

He stood silent, his trench coat moving with the breeze from the fan, staring deep down into her soul. He could see she was searching for his thoughts and he didn't understand the increasing of her heartbeat under his scrutiny. To him it was perfectly normal.

"You've kept your promise, enfant."

Emma narrowed her eyes at the being, evaluating the facts she had in her mind.

He spoke French, she knew he wasn't human, and he knows about a promise she made.

"Who are you and what do 'ya want?" She knew her boss was watching from the back room, and she, if she wanted to keep the job until the hunt was over, then she'd have to keep up a calm mask of indifference.

"I am here to break my end of the promise we made. I'm sorry, human, I truly am."

Her eyes narrowed to slits as the mysterious creature vanished into the crowd of mall goers, blending in perfectly with the humans surrounding it.

She took off her apron, hanging it on the rack as she timed herself out of work for the day. All that was left was a quick exorcism and she'd vanish again. She would lay low for a while, not one to ignore a warning when she saw one.

Ember took off towards the basement of the mall, the linoleum humming under her feet as she zig zagged through the people.

The last step couldn't have been reached fast enough as Emma's subconscious ate away at her. All she had to do was exercise a demon and she'd be home free. Away from the freak of nature that spooked her beyond belief.

She'd done this a million and one times before: internally battle herself with the urge to run and hide. She was more of a "flight" type of person, but her rebellious tendencies always proved themselves too strong to be ignored, even against herself.

She cocked her gun, the salt drenched iron rounds standing at a ready, as the haunting laughter started to echo throughout the over packed basement.

Three demons stepped out in their new meat suits, a pointy reckoning awaiting the hunter girl.

Emma swallowed, trying desperately to hide her nervousness as sweaty palms tightened their grip on the handle of her weapon. Her eyes switched from demon to demon warily. This hunt, this journey was about conquering her fears. Learning not to run from her problems like an animal.

"Ready to get slaughtered like your Mommy, dear?" The female meat suit had a throaty, filmy voice that permeated through air like the stale odor of expired cabbage. "Because, it would make my day to see mother and daughter reunited on the rack."

Emma didn't hesitate to pull the trigger repeatedly towards the offending demon, effectively filling her meat suits mouth with blood so it could not talk.

Her anger prevailed, taking over completely as it ran it's course, the energy traveling from her hands to the gun, to the bullets pouring themselves into demon skin. Emma couldn't help but forsake all rational thought in the heat of her anger.

She emptied round after round in her enemies, choosing to show no mercy in those who condemn her so freely. They couldn't be a menace to the innocent if they were too busy filleting in the darkest pits of hell.

Emma recited an exorcism she had always had trouble saying with only few stumbles, making quick work of Lucifer's seed.

In her anger she had not reached for the silencer. The echoing bangs resounded throughout the basement, drawing the overweight security guards attention to the violent scene, looking upon the blood covered crazy woman as if she had three dog heads.

He crept back behind the pillars, holding his breathe and praying to his God that the lunatic would pass right by him without notice. God, I know I'm a sinner, but I'll give my pinky toe to get out of here!

The girl seemed to have run off, the sound of pounding footsteps getting softer and softer by the second. He couldn't have let out a louder breathe, stepping out of his hiding refuge and towards the guards station.

"Good Morning, Boston! This is Trish Tailor reporting live from the Atrium Mall where police are investigating the mass murder of three local citizens!" The tired looking blonde gestured towards the front doors of the mall, "The crime was reported by a security guard, who got an eyewitness account of the suspect as they were getting away. Police say…"

A remote snapped back to the nightstand, the cord preventing it from being thrown or stolen.

"This is bull!" Ember stomped her foot as she crossed her arms across her chest, bottom lip protruding.

She was reckless, that was something that had to be admitted! I didn't see a fuckin' security guard! How in the hell did I not see them?

How did she get here? Stuffed in the back of a junkie mini van like a prisoner of war. They had her handcuffed to the seat bracket and her tongue ring removed.

Oh, yeah, that's how:

She pulled out of the motel parking lot, her hair up in a ball cap and sunglasses covering her eyes. Knowing the police would be after her was scary, but knowing demons would be after her had her more worried. Humans she could handle.

Emma pulled out onto the interstate, obeying all traffic laws and keeping her eye out for policemen. She knew that they would have a sketch of her on hand, ready and willing to arrest her. Or, at least try.

South Dakota

Ringing repeated itself throughout the blue house, resounding and echoing through the sleeping ears of the gruff man in a trucker hat. It vibrated in his inner ears until it finally roused him from his peaceful rest.

Bobby sat up from his desk, rubbing his face as he picked up the receiver marked "FBI".

"Hello," Bobby recited his monologue introduction speech, showing how many times he'd repeated it over the years.

"Yes, um, I know this might seem odd," The young man's high octave voice squeaked through the speaker, showing his hesitation and nervousness. "But, Mr. John Smith told me to call this number if anything like strange ever happened again. And, well, it has."

"What's seems to be the problem, boy?"

"Black smoke, you say?" Bobby leaned over his desk, taking another hit of Jack as he listened to the young man's account of a reckless hunter exercising some demons. "Well, why don't you fax over the sketch of the girl and I'll see what I can do."

"Y-yes, sir!" The sound of a fax machine on the other end of the line screeched to a start in it's reckoning. "Thank you, sir! I'm sending it now!"

Bobby hung up the receiver as he walked into the retro kitchen, opening the icebox to retrieve another beer. This was supposed to be his weekend, but I guess evil never sleeps. He leaned against his counter, crossing his boot clad feet at the ankles as he nursed the bottle, watching the ancient machinery groan to life.

He brought the bottle up to his lips as he took another long sip, walking over to the freshly printer peace of paper, examining the face with no real interest at first. He even put it down to move a book away in a dusty stack. He tried to think of another time when he'd seen the face, something rang a bell in his head.

Who would call that early on a Saturday morning anyway? People have no decency anymore. Next thing you know they will be jumping off cliffs, doing drugs, and putting kittens in microwaves…more often.

"Shit!" Bobby knocked over several stacks of books in his rush to get to the picture. He picked it up with the hand that was holding his beer, looking over the now slimmer face of his ward from so long ago. How he'd promised himself to lock her away in the panic room if he ever got the chance. And, by golly here it was, handed to him on an unpolished silver platter.

He picked up the bulky silver phone as he grabbed his clothing, stuffing them into the patched up duffel in a hasty manner. He tried to get to the contacts, having to push several other buttons before he could figure how.

John Winchester would love a swing at the one who got away, even if they were feuding.

"John, you'll never believe who's been huntin' in Boston."

Bobby and John kept a watchful eye on the dark haired female currently handcuffed to the empty seat bracket in the back seat of the mini van, the Impala following a car length behind. Her tongue piercing had been thrown out the window miles back in another state, and she hadn't said anything at all, save a few sighs.

Emma just stayed silent as she watched the scenery pass by the windows without an expression. She had no fresh track marks, scares, or other tale tell signs of drug abuse on her. Her pupils were normal, as were her reflexes.

John rested his head in his palm, his right elbow set on the ledge of the passenger car door as he watched her in the side view mirror. Her face stayed the same as she blinked, her head shaking as she awkwardly stretched.

"Excuse me, dude," Emma leaned forward a little, trying to be heard over the rumble of the engine. "I have to pee. Would it be too much to ask for a gas station or clean lookin' McDonalds?"

Bobby looked over at John as the two exchanged glances. They knew to be suspicious even when logic said she'd been back there for five hours and should reasonably need a bathroom break. Trouble was: she knew they knew that.

Bobby put on his blinker as he turned off on an exit that held a diner and gas station. Nothing else within several miles was visible or reachable without a vehicle.

"Whatever you're planning, don't." Bobby looked at her in the rear view mirror that hung by tiny threads of glue. "'Cause I won't hesitate to shoot your idijit ass. Yah hear?"

Emma rolled her eyes, a small smile gracing her lips as she leaned forward, "Did you just say 'idijit'?" She couldn't help but laugh: he'd stolen the word from her the last time they'd seen each other. And he had mocked her for it then.

Bobby glared through the mirror and he adjusted his trucker hat, pulling into the parking space furthest from the entrance to the building. The rust shone under the street lamp, illuminating everything as if under a spot light.

When they opened the van door, guns out and ready for her to try another miracle escape, she lifted up her wrists as high as she could, a smile showing the glint in her eye. "Can we hurry? I had a jug of Gatorade before you gently prodded me into your van. Are those bullet holes?"

John unlocked the cuffs, giving her the opportunity to stretch as they waited for the boys to get out of the Impala. He couldn't see any signs that she would try to escape. But that didn't mean he didn't expect it.

"Oh, hey Dean-o! I wanted to thank you for lovely bruise you made. Thanks, a lot, asshole." Ember stuck out her tongue towards the leather clad boy as she started towards the diner door.

She had accepted that this would happen, and, after analyzing her surroundings, had accepted that she couldn't get away by running. Bobby would get over being mad and let her go. Eventually.

It was all a matter of calming him down, now.

Being a captive seemed to be easier the second, sober, time. Not as much adrenaline fueled fear fogging her rational thought process.

They walked into the diner, Dean following Ember as she headed for the restroom, and the others taking a seat at the booths against the wall of windows. They left the seat next to the wall empty for Emma, preparing to box her in.

Dean held the restroom door open for Emma as she walked out, humming a song that had been playing on the radio when they had grabbed her from the gas station in Kansas. She knew that they were only an hour and a half away from being locked in Bobby's basement.

John stood, gesturing for her to sit next to the walls, analyzing Emma's facial expression as she slid into the her seat. The gears turning in his mind as to what her next move was.

The girl sitting next to him was not the same girl he picked up all those years ago, nor the drug addict that slipped away. She seemed to be a constantly evolving life form, like water: she could mold to whatever container she was trapped in.

"They call me mellow yellow," her humming grew louder and louder until it became a vocal cord, her mouth whispering the words as she sang quietly under her breath. "I'm just mad about Fourteen, Fourteen's mad about me. I'm just mad about Fourteen. She's just mad about me."

She tapped her fingers on the hard top of the table, forming the beat to the song just as quietly as she sang. "Born high forever to fly, wind velocity nil, wanna high forever to fly. If you want your cup our fill."

Dean grabbed her hand, stilling the beat as his grip tightened around her nimble fingers. "Stop."

Ember pinched the inside of Dean's palm as she glared at him. He was sitting the next booth over next to his brother, sporting an irritated expression to boot. He apparently appreciated the bruise she gave him, too.

"Stop being so grumpy, Hun." Emma smiled at the man, hiding her trepidation behind a wink as she stared down the hunter. "You'll get frown lines early."

She giggled as Bobby sighed, her bubbly personality somewhat familiar from the sober days of raising her. She was always self reliant, never wanting anyone to do something for her. Like tying her shoes and getting dressed, even if she went to school with a backwards shirt that day, she'd done it herself.

From entertaining herself with her dolls to her imaginary friends. She was a solitary person, always and forever, though dying an old cat lady with salted windows was not her style. She'd rather die a hunters death like her mother. Of course that later translated into drug abuse and rebellion from her guardian, but that was something that he couldn't have helped, no matter how he'd tried.

"So, Bobby…What have I missed? Any major changes to the oh so glamorous hunter lair?" Emma smiled as the waitress approached them, loving the slight smirk that magically appeared on his beard covered face.

"No, though after your little Houdini act cops started swarmin' the place." He sent her a glare before looking up towards the blonde taking their order.

"Hm, doubtable." Emma smiled at the waitress, telling her that she wasn't ordering anything as she leaned forward, her hands rubbing her denim clad legs. "The police in Sioux Falls didn't exactly love me between the three am escorts back to your house, and the disturbing the peace warnings. Besides," Emma took a deep breath, putting up her best smile she could manage. "You aren't the type to let the police in."

Bobby narrowed his eyes from his position across from her, "Not shooting up anymore? No drugs or alcohol? Gotta admit it's hard to swallow."

Emma slumped in her seat, crossing her arms over her chest as she gripped her elbows. "Nope. I'm Sesame Street clean. In fact, Big bird approves this message." She had no expression, lost inside of herself yet again as she watched the vehicles through the glass.

"Sweetheart, no one thinks your funny, so you should stop trying. Leave the jokes to the pros." Dean turned around with a cocky smirk, his eyes twinkling with that look one only gets after extracting sweet revenge. He meant absolute harm as his words were lined with barbed wire.

"Vous êtes vilains!" Ember shot back, her maturity level slowly plummeting to a slow death.

"Dean, stop." John spoke from his seat next to the fugitive, his right arm resting behind her shoulders, seemingly laid back.

As the waitress served out their food, Bobby handed her half a cheeseburger with a stern look on his face. "Eat."

Emma sighed, her hair covering her face as she leaned away from the sandwich, her mouth in a firm line. "No, thank you. Meat isn't my thing."

As they prepared to leave the diner, Emma stayed back, tugging on Bobby's sleeve. "Hey, Bobby?"

He turned, gruffly acknowledging her presence as he stopped walking.

Emma waited until the others where out of ear shot for her face to soften, "Thank you. For trying. For taking me in. I should have listened to you." The sincerity in her voice was evident as she looked him in the eye, knowing that she should have done so long before then.

"No, you're just a fucking idiot!" The bandage around Dean's leg seemed to shrink as the spreading red stain grew larger.

"Nice comeback, Jerk!" Ember angrily sat back in her seat, struggling to slip from the ropes around her hands.

It had all started peacefully, a simple interrogation using calm voices and everyone was free from bindings. It was straight to the point with questions and answers.

And it lasted until Dean decided to open his perpetually argumentative mouth.

"Where did go after that?" Bobby sat on the arm of the couch across from where she sat, engrossed in the details.

"Walked until I hitched a ride to a Wal Mart." Ember squinted at the dizziness of the memory, clouded with substances. "Stole someone's wallet and cut off all my hair, even dyed it."

Emma cocked her head to the side, focusing on the thoughts from that night. "I don't remember much for a while after that. Detox is a bitch." Her head hung a little lower, concentrating on forgetting the pain. She thought she was going to die.

"Bet you do it again," Dean nursed his beer, eyes twinkling with mischief.

Emma shot him a glare, eyes narrowing in on the subject of her pent up wrath. "Look, Sparky, I don't need your snide comments, 'kay?"

"Oh, so I'm the bitch now?" Dean stuck up his middle finger, pointing at his target with a smirk. "Dr. Phil called Princess, and he wanted to tell you that he can't help you!"

"Did you get that lame ass joke from a cereal box or the bimbo you screwed last week?"

"Hey!" Dean stood from his seated position, an eyebrow raised over stone eyes and a firmly set mouth. "She was a nice lady!"

"The ones with STD's usually are!"

Voices were steadily raising, escalating to a point that John started to stand up, physically stepping between the two irate "adults."

"That's not true! You're not nice at all!"

"I don't have STD's because I don't find my dates at bars, Romeo!" Emma stepped forward, out of Sam's attempt at pulling her away.

"Like you have dates!" Dean stepped forward, pushing at his father's arms on his chest. "How would you know if I get my dates at bars? You're just a drug addict! Oh, poor me, my mom's dead so I can stick needles in my arm and prance around like a whore!" Dean looked at her with distain, "Well, Sunshine, you're not the only one! Go cry in a corner and cut yourself! Here's my knife, Sweetheart!"

Dean threw his pocket knife onto the wooden floors, only just noticing the tears swimming in her eyes as she picked it up.

Pulling the cold metal from the handle, Emma ducked below Sam and John in a mad dash for the door.

Run! Be a coward, just like you always are! How else would you deal with some one like him? Like a real hunter? No, of course not! You don't have what it takes to play apart of a man's world.

Stealing her resolve somewhere in the maze of junked cars, long past the front door of the blue house, Ember came to a halt, tucking herself into a small hiding place.

"Why kiss the feet of the people that kick you?" She whispered before holding her breath, silently listen for the footsteps she knew would be following her.

Now or never.

Footsteps rounded the corner as Ember stood up from her crouch, coming to an almost immediate halt as she dug the extended blade shallowly into jean clad legs. She grabbed the gun from her victim's hands, hitting Dean in the forehead with it's handle.

"Every time you open your fuckin' mouth it subtracts from humanities sum of knowledge, you douche!"

"Dean!" Sam's voice echoes throughout the salvage yard along with heavy footfalls. "Oh, my god, Dean!"

Sam put pressure on the gapping hole surrounding the knife as he pulled it out, watching the flowing river of red as he took in a trembling breathe. His eyes widened as he prayed, looking towards the dark haired woman in a passion of burning hate.

"How could you?"

"You stabbed him in the leg!" Sam's voice broke as it squeaked.

"Well, I was going to kill him," Emma scoffed at his outrage. "And I don't think I hit anything serious. So, be happy with what you got, Babe."

Sam looked upon the girl as if she came straight from the Ebony Clock in the seventh apartment. He didn't know how anything human could be so heartless. Maybe she has mental problems?

Dean groaned, a pitiful sound, from the ground as he held his bleeding limb. "You're crazier than I thought! Fuck, that hurts!"

Emma could tell she just dug herself into a deep hole the likes of which she didn't have the strength to dig out of. "Say something about my parents again, and I will kill you." She spat out as Bobby and John caught up to them, John carrying Dean into the house with the help of Sam, and Bobby taking Emma by the arm.

"You two: don't talk to each other, don't look at each other. That clear?" Bobby's voice echoed as he finished with the last bit of duck tape from the second roll, finally securing her to the kitchen chair.

"Clear as Emma's track marks."

"Are you trying to get your ass kicked?" Emma's eyes came up to meet his, her eyes swimming as she tried not to cry. After all the adrenaline and anger had settled to the bottom it left her tired and hurt.

"No, you're just a fucking idiot!" The bandage around Dean's leg seemed to shrink as the spreading red stain grew larger.

"Nice comeback, Jerk!" Ember angrily sat back in her seat, struggling to slip from the ropes around her hands.

"Enough!" Bobby roared over the yelling, finally making the two grasp the "quiet" concept.

Emma's head slumped forward, her eye lids fighting her to stay closed when she blinked as her breathing slowed. Flashes of her mom and dad replayed themselves over again, using her eyelids as projectors for her mind. They never would see each other again. Am I going to meet the same fate?

The duck tape was sliced with a utility knife as someone lifted her up into their arms, just like they had when she was smaller and innocent. Her hero was back again. Would he leave? Of course. True hero's always do.

The warm arms set her in the bed she hadn't slept in for years, the dust moving under her as she turned in her light slumber. She didn't sleep in this bed much when she lived there before, but it seemed like the closest thing to home she would ever get and maybe, subconsciously, she recognized that. She gripped the pillow tightly as her mind spun slowly with the dream world.

"Good night, Emma."

Emma awoke with the over whelming feeling of dizziness that a head ache combined with a stomach ache could only produce.

She stood, as slow as needed but as fast as possible as she hurried off towards the bathroom, throwing open the door and leaning her head over the toilet. The stomach contents continued to pour from her mouth as she tried to stop, uselessly.

Groaning she finally sat on the cold tile floor, turning her body ever so carefully so that her head could rest on the wall by the seat. Her hand found her stomach as she thought back over the hours of which she had gone without eating. "Jesus, Emma, you've completely mental." She muttered to herself as she pulled herself up, realizing the steam in the room for the first time.

She sniffed the air, smelling the body wash that she prayed was from an earlier shower and not from one she might have interrupted. Her eyes lifted themselves to the shower curtain behind her, taking in the sight of a very naked Dean staring at her curiously.

"What? Gone too long without a hit?" Dean smirked as he continued his shower, returning his head behind the curtain as he lathered the soap in his hands.

Emma groaned again as she turned herself back to the toilet, throwing up once again as tears came to her eyes. Tears from being sick, tears from Dean's insults, and tears from addictions that never truly die. She hadn't touched them since she'd promised in the Wal Mart bathroom, but it didn't mean she didn't think about it. It didn't mean she didn't think about how much she wanted to every time she accidentally cut herself while hunting or saw a needle in a drug store.

"Can you just leave me alone?" Emma's head rested on the toilet seat as she ignored the thought of what had touched it, the germs making her gag again.

Dean wrapped himself in a towel before stepping out of the tub, his eye brows scrunched at the girl below him. "You're the one who came into an occupied bathroom. I didn't make you." He wrinkled his nose as she gagged again, "Why are you so sick? Pregnant?"

Ember shot him a glare from her kneeling position on the ground. "Not likely seeing how I'm a virgin." She laughed glumly at the irony, "The one virtue I have left."

Dean's eyes widened as he took off his gauze, ready to replace the soaked, red material as he thought. A druggie with mental problems is a virgin? Well, I'll be damned.

Ember stood a little dizzily from the couch, holding onto the arm rest and gesturing to Bobby that she was fine, making her way towards the bathroom, walking as fast as she could towards the nearest bathroom as her stomach churned. "Damn Winchester!" She whispered before covering her mouth and breaking out in a run towards the restroom. Sam and Dean had tag teamed her into eating breakfast, insisting that she needed something in her stomach to last throughout the day.

She heard something enter the small room with her as she lurched, the contents of her stomach making their exit as she hunched over the toilet lid. She wanted to yell at them, to tell them to leave her alone or complain about privacy but she couldn't. Her mouth was too occupied.

The intruder waited until she was done to speak, hold her hair instead of bothering her while they knew she couldn't respond. It must be Sam, though I could swear her hated me with that glare he sent my way this morning.

They didn't let go of her hair when she stopped, still holding gently but firmly onto the mass of dark hair as she crouched over. "You okay there now, Sweetheart?"

It was Dean's voice that gently spoke out through the small room. The one person she never expected. She nodded her head, choosing to be quiet this once, her mood not prime for a smart ass reply. "Well, then, I wanted to let you know," He let go of her hair, going to close the door before he spoke. "That Bobby'll probably let you go by the end of the next few days. That is if you stab anyone else."

His smirk lit up the room from where he leaned against the pestle sink as his eyes followed her every move. Watching as she set her back against the tub, bringing her knees up to her chest and closing her eyes.

Even Dean's smirk didn't make her feel better, her aurora dark for the moment. She had known for days that Bobby would eventually let her go. He couldn't hold her forever. After all, she wasn't his blood daughter, what did it matter to him if she died? Other than a few tears? No, if she was his real daughter than he'd hold her in his iron basement until she promised her soul to stop hunting. He'd make her get a real job and he wouldn't ever approve of any boy. Hell, if he had ever treated her as his own then she would never have gotten in to drugs. Because she wasn't his daughter.

No, her real father was just a sperm donor, probably out sticking his dick in everything that moved and drinking himself into a daily stupor. He probably knew what happened to her and just didn't care.

Why would anyone? She sure didn't for the longest time. Maybe being a failure was genetic.

A cough pulled her out of her ravine, making her open her heavy eyes to stare straight into twinkling eyes and an outstretched hand. He was offering to help her up, and didn't look to be playing a prank on her. Maybe people can change…

"Come on, you look like you could use some sleep, Sweetheart."

She nodded once again, taking his hand a little hesitantly and letting him be her rock as she stood.

Her head swam as she took the steps one at a time, but was comforted knowing that Dean had reassured what she'd already known. He wouldn't lie about something like that. All she had to worry about now was getting well and dealing with little Samuel. Oh, joy.

She thought about her situation, how similar it was to her mothers' as she laid in her old bed. What would she do? She got out of her tough situations and had Ember with her, too. She'd been a true fighter, even if she never was a hunter. She was brave and smart. Something I'll never be.

"However did you think I could do this without you, Mom?" She whispered into the night, her own thoughts making her feel sicker and driving her deeper into despair. Maybe tomorrow I'll be a new person.

When she awoke from her haze, feeling less dizzy but just as glum, she couldn't help but hear arguing. The type of arguing that bounced around the house in an angry manor.

I knew Bobby and John were avoiding each other, is this why? Why John and Bobby would be arguing was beyond her but she got up anyway.

Her feet lightly hit the hardwood, trying to make as little nose and to be as unnoticeable as possible as she opened the door, creeping down the stairs and staring under the hand rail into the living room. Like a child on Christmas watching Santa kiss her mom she was horrified to see a red faced Bobby yell at an angry John. He seemed to think he was wrong, but stayed on his side of the argument anyway. Too stubborn for his own good, just like the rest of the hunting world.

(Starting up again with John and Bobby's fight. Ember is sitting on the steps listening and the boys are hiding in the kitchen.)

"Yeah! Well you're not a saint either, Bobby!" John yelled, his voice bouncing off the walls. "Look at how you raised that delinquent upstairs!"

"You turned an angel of a girl into a slutty, drug addicted, horror story! So you can't talk about how I raise my boys!"

At this point Ember had to get out, she had to leave. She couldn't stand it anymore. Not because he was talking about her in such a way, but because he was insulting Bobby. The man whom took her in and raised her the best he knew how. It wasn't perfect but it was good. How is it Bobby's fault that a little girl, who saw her mother's death, turned out a little screwy? It's not. 'And it's my fault. I've made him look bad!'

She stood up from the stairs, mentally steeled to face her childhood hero. Ember couldn't have walked in slow enough for her tastes, reaching the angry men with a fluttering stomach. "Now you listen here, John Winchester! You are not going to talk to my surrogate father that way! He doesn't deserve to be blamed for the actions of traumatized little girl! How dare you act like the 'saint', you arrogant, incompetent ass!"

Ember stepped closer to the angry, stunned man as she jabbed her index finger into the mans chest. "I don't know what you're fighting about, but it seems you need to leave before I make you."

She stepped back, her arms crossed over her chest, facial features as hard as stone, and her back to Bobby. Ember looked as if she was a statue, but felt as if she'd throw up.

How can a man who was once so wonderful turn out to be so bitter? He was causing too many problems and needed to be removed.

John was completely frozen for a few moments, watching as the cowardly junkie held her own. He still saw the little girl that hugged his leg, waving good-bye and sucking her thumb. She was taking Bobby's side? After everything they'd argued and ran from? The 'family' with more issues than his own was holding their own?

Some things will never make sense.

John gritted his teeth, looking over at face of the closest thing he'd ever had to a brother, analyzing his face as he backed up his adopted daughter. "Boys!"

The two almost grown men came out of their hiding places, muttering a weak "yes sir?" and slouching their shoulders. "Pack your bags."

"We're leaving."

Sam started to say something before Dean pulled him back, grabbing a hold of his arm like a vice grip. He whispered, "Just don't argue, Sam. Leave it alone. Just this once."

Ember stood still until John and the boys walked through the front door, not turning to face Bobby until the sound of the Impala disappeared from there drive way and her "father's" hand came to rest on her shoulder.

Her stomach knotted into a fluttering, contracting stress ball before she hugged Bobby.

It was a brief hug. To the point and not so sweet. Her intent was to protect him and that's what Ember did. "Hey, Bobby…I'm gonna go take a nap."

Bobby nodded, knowing full well Ember wouldn't be napping. She'd stay awake and think for days. The same as him.

Ember patted the stair railing as she climbed the steps, faster than usual. Her body catching up with the rate of her thoughts. She had to get out of this house. Before she made Bobby look worse.

It took everything he had to do what was right for her; sacrificing so much. And how did she thank him? By raising his blood pressure and almost giving him a heart attack when she left. 'What the hell is wrong with me?'

'Ignorance is overrated.'

Bobby paced angrily. He couldn't believe the way John treated those boys! His fist pounded into the plaster of his kitchen, breaking the skin quickly. It should've stung worse than what John did, but, sadly, it didn't. Nothing did.

John walked right out that door and his boys followed. They were on their own now? Of course not. Bobby would be there in a moments notice if they needed him. Those boys were the closest things he'd have to sons, and he wouldn't let them down. One day the Winchester boys would come knocking on his door again. And he knows right where he'll be.

Beside them with a loaded gun and his usual sunny disposition.

A crashing sound shook the house, taking Bobby along with it. Glass broke in an upstairs room and screaming started, followed by a pounding noise.

His boots carried him up the stairs as fast as possible, heading toward Ember's room with purpose. Bobby wouldn't let anything happen to her and he sure as hell wasn't going to let her get away again.

Bobby stepped into the room, only having a moment of shock before jumping into action. Demons had swarmed the place and Ember was outnumbered. She spoke Latin with a weak voice as she was choked from behind, kicking one demon in the face repeatedly. She looked over at her 'father' and knew she'd be saved.

Bobby started throwing punches, pulling the pocket knife hooked onto his belt and slicing. He swung, albeit wildly, until he could see Ember's quickly folding form.

She bent over, bringing her choke chain down with her. Ember's elbows dug into the demon's stomach, burning both subjects from the protection charm tattooed there. "Son of a bitch that hurt!"

"Ember!" Another voice stopped all movement from the Indian girl. She knew that voice. Her nightmares would never let her forget that accent.

She turned slowly, everything in slow motion so that even Bobby had seemingly stopped moving, coming to face the aged, damaged face of her Indian father.

His yellow eyes shone brightly in the dim lighting, like cursed jewels.

The thing inside her father's body had mangled his face so badly she could hardly recognize him. The smile lines that used to remind her of childhood no longer held the happiness it did. The man she lay awake at night and wonder about was here and he looked rough. "What have you done?"

The demon's smile was evil and repugnant, twisting her stomach with just one look. She couldn't stand to see it, her eyes averting quickly from him. "You've had him all along?" Her voice came out in a fierce whisper and Bobby hardly knew it was her sweet, girly voice. Even in all the times she was mad at him before, screaming, yelling, throwing and crying, her voice was still her own. Now it sounded strangled, though technically she had been. "Oh, no, child. I haven't. He's been in a coma somewhere for years after he tried to kill himself. Not the brave ending you thought of, hm?"

"What the hell are yah doin' here?" Bobby kept the handgun he had pulled from his holster trained on a near by demon. "You have a lot of balls coming here."

The demon held his belt buckle in the hand he did not have a weapon in, still looking at Ember. "Was I talking to you? In fact, I don't remember inviting you to our little reunion." With the wave of a hand, Bobby was toppled backward, out the door and tumbling down a flight of stairs.

"There," he breathed in through his nose. "That's better. Smells less like old man and more like…a recovering addict. Tell me, child, are they making you get clean or is it of your own will?"

A set of hands came to restrain her again, another pulling her by her hair so that her throat protruded from which it would normally be able to bend. "I'm curious, do you like being a problem? Does the attention excite you?" His fingertips traced her jaw line before coming to painfully grip her cheeks around her mouth. "Cause you've got it, now."

Ember was trying desperately not to tremble with the fear she felt in her heart and mind, trying to remain fearless as the drugs would have left her. Bobby wasn't there to help her and the Winchesters were already gone. "What do you want?" She found it hurt to speak, pulling the skin of her cheeks under his grip.

"I want you dead." He chuckled and the demons around him started too. "Mainly for fun, but also because you're getting in the way." The demon smiled again, coming to her to whisper in her ear dramatically. "Usually I don't enjoy the theatrics, but I'll make an exception for you. Did you know that your cowardly father can see everything I see? This meat sack really is doing a great job. At least compared to my normal one. Too bad I have to return to it after I burn you alive."

Ember's eyes widened and her heart sped up, something she previously thought impossible. Her mother had a fear of fire and it had spread out onto her as a child, still affecting her to that day. She couldn't even bring her self to use matches or regular lighters, forced to use the longer, safer ones. Her breath trembled out of her chapped lips, somehow losing her earlier bravo.

The door suddenly pried off from its hinges, the bottom half coming to hit several demons.

Bobby stood in the broken door way, holding a huge gun Ember couldn't even bring herself to identify, his face bruised and putting most of his weight on one leg. Bobby's face was a mask made from steel, he couldn't unclench his teeth, his hold on the gun so tight it hurt his large, calloused hands.

The shot seemed to explode mid air, making Ember's already sinking cranium spin, her mind starting to freeze its image processing, everything suddenly seeming to slow to a crawl.

**Ember had felt completely and utterly stupid a couple of times in her short time on this Earth. Once, when she was learning to ride a bike, and couldn't get the kick stand to stay up long enough for her to take off. It motivated her mother to remove the annoying device and she felt great afterwards, finally able to succeed. Another time was when she was in Bobby's care. He went on a hunt one afternoon and left out sandwiches and a bag of chips. The offending bag was child proofed and she ended up with the full content of the bag on the floor. In her embarrassment, she cleaned up the floor, sweeping the cheese coating off the linoleum and telling Bobby she ate the whole bag.

She was pretty sure he found the bag and chips in the trash, but he never said anything.

It seemed a tab bit odd to her that in a time like this, when her brain was showing her only blitzed images of what was happening, that she could remember and be thankful of these times. Her guardians had been there for her, making sure the events didn't dent her self esteem too much at that time, but, now that she thought about it, maybe they did more damage in the long run. Making her think that she could get out of everything or someone would solve every problem that came her way. 'Yeah, too much damage.' Her brain spun and she smiled in her daze, slowly falling to the floor as demons dropped her.

Her neck didn't want to move from the way it was already extended, staying upward as she crumpled to the ground, her eyes trying to focus on the ceiling. 'All these years of drugs and I could've just been looking up,' she thought. 'I must be going crazy.' Her fogged brain showed her a glowing, growing image, beautiful but bright, exploding on the ceiling of her room. '-er. Yeah, crazier,' she laughed to herself as the gleaming ball of heavenly light seemingly extended its hand to her. She didn't know what was going on anymore, so she didn't think it odd, only extending her arm toward it.

She experienced a feeling of being lifted up, the beautiful face smiling down at her for a moment before it looked away, a ripple of an explosion barley fazing her as it pushed the bodies under her away. Ember could only focus on the beauty that surrounded her, lost in the true bliss she sought after years of drugs.

They paled in comparison to the magnificent outpouring of a feeling she hadn't felt since her mother was alive. Then it was smaller, but very simliar; a mix of happiness, safety and ignorence.

And it was because, when she closed her eyes, she finally saw the face she avoided in the mirror. Her mother was there, smiling with her in their trailer as they put Christmas decorations on the small tree, a reindeer cartoon playing in the background. "Mom?" Tears prickled in her eyes as she was set back on the ground, pooling in her eyes. She didn't blink them away this time. It was amazing and wonderful and right.

She smiled as she lay on the floor of her now bare bedroom, all of her furniture gone. Ember paid it no mind as she smiled at the man in a gray business suit now crouched down beside her, moving her wind blown hair behind her ear. "Sleep," he whispered. "You're with the Lord, now."

Usually she would scoff at the thought of a God but after that 'delusion' she really didn't give a fuck, only using her aching neck to nod her weightless head and closing her eyes for, what felt like, the last time.

The EMT on scene reported Ember as in an extreme comatose, telling Bobby that she should be rushed to the hospital. Her condition was very fragile and Bobby should stay next to her in the ambulance.

Doctors rushed around her gurney at the doors of the emergency room, having been called ahead of time. "She was in the center of the explosion? Do you know what the explosive was? She doesn't look like she's been blown up. Are those track marks?"

"Sir," a nurse in pink scrubs pulled Bobby aside toward the station in the center of the room. "Why don't you fill out these forms for me?" She gently handed him a clipboard loaded with paperwork, trying to calm Bobby down. He sat in the uncomfortable looking chairs in the waiting room, filling out the forms, feeling lost. "Crap, when's her birthday? Blood type? Damn."

Bobby leaned his head against the wall in the chair, looking at the plaster ceiling and trying to piece together what happened. Tapping the wood particle and metal that made the clipboard, closing his eyes and thinking back.

He replayed the scene, remember busting in the door that was her room, thinking that he shouldn't have put the door back on after her punishment. His ankle was twisted past the way it should have and his wrist barely supported the gun he picked up. Everything was tense as the demons stared him down. Bobby remembered seeing her drop to the ground, her head seeming to look up toward the ceiling and staying that way, even as she fell. He didn't know what to think after that. A white light came down, blowing everyone arm came up to cover his face and he didn't see what happened to Ember during that twenty second time period, but when the light dissipated- the demons were gone and Ember lay in the center of the room, her hair sprayed out behind her in a tangle of black waves, talking to herself dizzily.

Everything was gone from the room, the demons, the girly bamboo furniture and the hardwood floor was tarnished black around her. Did the explosion come from her or the demons? A third party?

Ember opened her eyes, or tried to, at least. The place she was in was very bright, the man in the suit back again. He didn't smile down at her or say anything, just stared. After a while, the pain in her neck was gone, allowing her to sit up despite the vertigo. The man said something in another language to another man, a heavy set black man whom was also adorned in a suit, speaking rapidly and quietly.

Her brain felt like it was being spun inside her head, every time she tried to speak it just went faster, around and around. "Wha?" She felt completely and utterly ignorant, spinning around and trying to speak. Her arms couldn't hold her up anymore, giving way under her weight and making her fall toward the golden floor.

This continued until the black man spoke to the suit above her, apparently urging him to do whatever it was he did.

Ember couldn't really explain what he did. His hand came to cover her eyes, forcibly closing them for a moment. The feeling of vertigo went away very quickly after that, and she lay, spread out on a golden floor in awe. "Ow," was all she managed to say.

"Despicable," the man standing further away said, finally in a language she could understand. "Why did you bring the Mud Monkey's soul here of all places?" He straightened his suit, "I don't care what Michael says, it's degrading to have it in our presence."

Ember stayed quiet on the floor, listening and slowly thinking. Her eyes examined the detailed ceiling despite her brain trying not to. He kept on with his speech and, from what she could tell, he was throwing a grown man's temper tantrum about her being there. She didn't know what kind of Supernatural being it was, but her welcome was obviously wearing thin. 'How long have I been here?' She asked herself, bringing herself to sit up again, unable to stop herself from examining the man that leaned over her, a caring expression in his deep, yet empty eyes.

He didn't look away, either. His eyes examined hers and she took in his. His golden hair and quick smile reminded her of childish pranks she once played on Bobby.

"I don't know any of this, Doc," Bobby couldn't really explain why he let Ember get away with being so secretive and private. All the years of just trying to get her to open up about the drugs, he never took the time to meet the actual person below the surface. He didn't know if it was the fact that she didn't let him, or if he was just so stunned with having to raise a child, a girl much less, and was too shell shocked to notice his doctor regarded Bobby with a thoughtful glance, looking down at the chart before sitting down across from him. "Sir, are you aware that she has shown signs of being under the influence of narcotics?"

"Yeah," Bobby sighed, rubbing his hand over his face. "She's recovering."

"Well," the doctor looked up again. "Her neck has extended from its healthy range, and her spine is pinching the vein going to her brain, cutting off oxygen to several cortexes. Her brain is going on safe mode. Like a computer. Now, we could fix it- with immediate surgery, but there are extreme complications and risks associated. We'll have to wait to make sure that there are no narcotics in her system. And the chances that insurance will cover it are fifty-fifty."

"What?" Ember asked once again, feeling dazed and dizzy as she tried to pull herself up from the golden ground, her vision blurring. "Angels aren't real!" She tried, swallowing back bile as she fell back down, her hands taking most of the weight. "What's happening? You're pretty," her hands came up to touch the man's face, her silly smile hanging crooked on her blemished face.

Her curly, unruly black hair toppled over her head as she stared into the eyes of the laughing angel. "Why, thank you," he spoke, taking her hand away from his cheek to grip it in his larger, scar free hand. "Ember, right? Let me help you." His hand supported her as she stood, her boot clad feet shaking on the polished metal floor. "We have covenant for you."

"Whoa," Ember swallowed, her throat dry. "Let's hold off with the big words for now, kay?" Her eyes scanned the room one more time, her head clearing more by the minute. "Where the fuck am I?" She barley finished the sentence, for the blonde man's laughing became louder than before, his smile infectious. "You're going to be a fun one, aren't you?"

"Watch your mouth, Mud Monkey!" The intimidating black man in the suit spoke again, his face harder than stone. "Gabriel, stop playing with it and get over it."

Ember's sense of self was rushing back to her, her attitude instantly taking a dislike to the smart mouthed asshole she stood in front of. "Fuck you, man! I'm loads of fun, jerk off." She couldn't quite bring herself to even smirk at her own insult, her teeth clenching together painfully. "Not in that particular order," she added after a moment of thought. "Anyone want to tell me why I'm here?" Her voice commanding and prevailing.

With her tough guy persona on full force, she still couldn't help but feel inadequate in the wake of should tall, scary looking men. Didn't mean she couldn't act fearless and badass. Maybe she couldn't save herself from the situation, which was still confusing, but she could, at least, cling to her dignity while she did it.

"Who do you think you're talking to, human?"

"Self assured assholes in suites?"

"Close," Gabriel placed his hands in his pockets, his smirk shining on his beautiful face. "Angels of the…no drum roll?" His face lit up with laughter. "The Lord! Hard to believe, I know. But," the fingers of his left hand came up to trace her jaw line as he circled her. "It's legit." The other hand, that had held her hand earlier, came out from it's shelter in his pocket, resting at his side as he stopped his pacing at her side. "And you can be one of us."

"For three easy payments of nineteen ninety-five, right?"

Gabriel rolled his eyes, his hands going back to his pockets as he waited for Uriel's response. He knew it wasn't too far behind Ember opening her mouth. This will be fun, most definitely, he thought to himself. He saw past her smart mouth persona to the genuinely sweet, funny, caring woman that was buried so deep under lies and masks that she didn't even see it herself anymore. He wondered how humans could manage to keep things so deep and suppressed, how they could live with their morals and the real world facts at the same time.

"Deal is off. Hand it over to the demon seed."

Uriel couldn't stand to be in the room with the human, whom was acting like she wasn't about to spew the content of her soul on the floor of the heavenly meeting room, his face disgusted. "That's not up to you, Uriel. The offer still stands until midnight."

"Which time zone?"

"Whatever time zone your body is still in."

"And this…deal…being an angel, I mean. What does it entail?" Ember was curious, her arms coming to cross over her chest, her stomach rolling and her head spinning. "Exactly," she added nervously.

His smirk vanished for a few moment before it reappeared, slightly off. "You would serve a greater purpose. You wouldn't die. At least not easily. And-"

"Why in the hell do you want me to be a fuckin' angel?" Her face was a mix of disbelief and seasickness. "Did you not get my resume? Not angel material. And why am I so damn sick?" Ember doubled over, gripping her stomach and hating herself for breaking her act and seeming weak.

Gabe stepped back as Ember emptied white smoke onto the metal, his sigh exasperated. "I don't know. Orders." He shrugged, taking the glare she threw him in stride. "You might not want to-ok, you're fault."

Ember choked, first out of shock and then in mortification as the white, fluffy smoke forced itself back down her throat, her limbs shaking her whole body as she fell back to the ground.

Her knees shook as they suddenly struggled to support her. She had to spare what little strength she had in her arms to help keep herself upright. "Fuck," she coughed out around gasping for air. "Also, your soul won't die slowly like that," Gabriel came down to her level, his fingers bringing her chin up so she looked in her eyes. "Take it. Ask why later," his eyes slightly pleading.

Bobby signed the release papers, handing the clipboard over to the doctor, whom was waiting to wheel Ember's unconscious body to surgery after her head was shaved in preparation.

Bobby watched as the nurse in pink scrubs took a pair of clippers to Ember's long, wavy, unruly black hair, his thoughts circling on the possibilities this surgery could give them as a 'family'. How Ember's body might react to the surgery, if she lived through, and just exactly how pissed she would be about her hair. He couldn't judge it, but the thought of her making a scene in a hospital brought back the few fond memories they had together.

Bobby knew he wasn't the best of father's. He didn't teach her how to ride a bike or help with homework, but his range of skills did not cover that. He tried and did the best he could with what the situation allowed. Bobby taught her how to defend herself, and how to research the Supernatural; to investigate before rushing in. Maybe that wasn't society's idea of a good role model, but he sure thought it was. What more could someone need than survival? Wasn't it all extremely trivial after that?

If she died, he knew that it wouldn't end the world, he had to realistic about that. It would also afford him more time to concentrate on hunting, but no one to help with research. No one would be there to irritate the living day lights out of him. Ember had been there for years, and even when she was gone he could at least seize the feeling that she could still be alive. With this, he would know for sure that she was dead. And no one would be there with him anymore. John was gone. His boys were gone. And they weren't coming back.

He couldn't change that fact, but he would have to change the way he lived to accept the coming irrevocable events that were on the horizon. How he would? He didn't know.

They took her to surgery soon after that, leaving Bobby in her room to drown in his own thoughts, the possibilities too vast to place a reliable bet on even the near future. It all played on this surgery and if Ember lived. Then it would relies on how her body reacts; would Bobby be able to take care of her? What if he had to place her in a home? He didn't have that kind of money.

If she dies, will he be left with the same feelings he had when his wife died? Again, too many possibilities to guess. He hoped she made it through. With every fiber of his being he hoped. If he were a lesser man he would break down and pray, but at this moment all he could do was cling onto hope, fearing the options of tomorrow.

With that hope, along with a near fatal mixture of exhaustion and boredom, Bobby stood up from his chair, opening the door to his room and grabbing a coffee. What else could he do? Doctors said it would be at least a four hour surgery and it had only been twenty minutes.

"That's not what I would call good advice!" Ember exclaimed through the sickness, her ghostly face covered in sweat. ""They wouldn't even put that in a bad fortune cookie!" She jerked her face away from the man. "Why should I accept something I know nothing about without reading the fine print?"

"How about 'because you'll die'?" Gabriel pulled out a candy bar, shrugging off her rudeness. His face didn't shift emotions, he wasn't eating the chocolate out of enjoyment, apparently. Gabriel had waited until Uriel had his back turned to take a bite, his energy levels severely lacking, but he doubted Ember noticed.

Ember's eyes narrowed in thought. "How can I trust what you say?"

"You can't. Not really, anyways." He stood from his crouched position, placing the chocolate back in his jacket pocket, "We can't make you trust us...well, we can, but that's another subject for another day. Would you like to see your body?"

Ember shrugged, trying to appear relaxed and not tense like she actually was. "Why the hell not?"

Doctors rushed around a metal table, blue medical cloth covering the surface of a body that lay motionless on the table. "You're not going to survive this," a man in scrubs leaned over to whisper in the ear of the nurse's body Ember was temporarily occupying.

"And my other options are? So that's what a brain looks like!" The nurse's body looked over people as Ember instructed it to. "Trippy!"

She had spoken too loud at a quiet moment amongst the chaos, other doctors and nurses turned to stare for a moment before going back to work. "Nurse Jones, you've been working here for twenty years, so, yes, that's what a brain looks like. Clamp!" The main doctor yelled out in surprise. "She's bleeding too much! Somebody get me a damn clamp!"

Gabriel leaned back over to whisper in Ember's ear. "Your decision. Just remember, what's the worst that could happen?"

Ember thought for a few moments, her stomach churning like she would throw up the white smoke again, thoughts racing. "If I choose the blue pill, the matrix won't be a bad as the movie, will it?"

Gabriel once again chuckled, pulling out another candy bar seemingly from space. "This ought to be fun," he said, thinking of the other angels and how they would find Ember's smart mouth. He thought about it a little more, zoning out as Ember turned quiet again in thought, concluding that she would probably get the sarcasm worked out of her. He shivered at the thought of the "retraining" process astray angels went through, not feeling too fond of those memories. Or worse, being thrown out of heaven to the deepest parts of hell. 'Best not tell her that,' he thought with a dry sense of humor.

As the monitor that showed Ember's heart rate started screeching at the room's occupants, the owner of the body started to shake in her temporary boots. "Yes! I'll do it. I choose the blue pill, angel oath, whatever just don't let me die!"

"Good decision," and with the snap of his finger's, Ember Caldwell's bled out. Nothing the doctors could do, no matter how many clamps, could stop the bleeding. Her brain was out of oxygen and a new angel was born.

And all the King's horses, and all the King's men, couldn't put Ember back together again.

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THE END

All sixteen chapters in one!