Supernatural
The Other Side of the Tracks
"Pilot"
It was bizarre, hiding in the shadows, watching Dean enter his brother's home. Knowing it could not be helped, Emily did not intervene. How could she? It was not as though Dean or Sam knew her, nor was it like she was part of the family. In fact, she was more likely to get killed if she approached too soon. No, the time would be right eventually. And it was then that she would approach Dean. John had been gone far too long, had not been answering calls or going to the Roadhouse, though that was a long shot in and of itself. The Winchesters were not to be trifled with. But in that respect, neither was she. Emily slipped away as the lights flickered on, smiling slightly at the thought of the boys fighting in the dark confusion. She wondered about the poor girl Sam was seeing, Jennifer or Jessica or whatever her name was. Casting a long look back at the house, Emily strolled down the campus streets, awaiting the verdict from Sam, as to whether or not he would help Dean find John.
The friendship she had with John, she mused, was a funny story, and even somewhat ironic. In Mississippi, John and herself were drawn to a case: a little coven of witches were causing some problems for the locals. John was younger then, but still just as hard as he was now. The fact he let her live still surprised her to this day. Emily looked at the worn combat boots that covered her feet, tucking a lock of reddish-brown hair behind her ear. John was one hell of a hunter, saved her ass more than once. She could not believe he had been killed by demons or ghosts, nor could she believe he would just up and bail on a case. That just wasn't like him. When John discovered her identity at the coven, when she used her powers to protect him, he had nearly come after her. The twenty-something frowned at the notion. Yeah, sure, she was a witch, but he was something else entirely. "After all," Emily murmured, setting a small hand on her pale face. "I haven't aged in a few millennia." Being something born out of the supernatural wasn't easy, but unlike the witches she and John took care of, Emily was born into a world no one could quite understand. With the life age of the earth behind her, Emily knew what was what and what the score was. Unlike most witches, Emily's powers weren't from demons. She looked up as she saw the yellow flashing lights of the campus patrol car, a little golf cart that would probably only give you a bruise if it hit you. Nevertheless, Emily vanished, heading back to John's last known location: California.
Emily sat on the bed, looking at the details across the wall in John's room, flustered and exceptionally annoyed. It had been two days and, already, Dean and Sam had passed by the shady dive and did not think to look. But what annoyed her the most was how useless she had to be on this case. Damn gender specific cases. A woman in white would never target a single person, let alone a single female. What could she do to lead Dean, but especially Sam, to this motel? Sam was in a relationship, and exactly the type for the woman in white, a woman named Constance. Perhaps she would go to find out more from the ex-husband, look over their old residence. After all, ghosts were her speciality. Emily stood and looked at the wall once more closely, trying to iron out some information in her head. Why fear the Winchesters? If their dad didn't kill her, wasn't that a sign they should not. She huffed in annoyance, gently rubbing her right temple, a little human trait she picked up from those she encountered. She did not know what a headache felt like, nor did she know what it was like to dream. Sleep and human ailments were not the only two things that eluded her in her long life. She was mortal, in a way. She would die one day just as humans do but she just had the advantage of living for a good few millennia. Unnatural, she believed, but she wasn't about to end a life that was serving a greater good.
Turning to once again face the bed, Emily extended her hand, an iridescent white light flowing out of it, returning the room to its original 'cleanliness'. Emily knew she was not exactly the neatest individual in the world and somewhat paralleled John in that respect, so she would clean up after herself, wipe her scent and presence from the room. With a small gust of wind slightly disturbing the newspaper clippings on the walls, Emily vanished, travelling through space instantly. It was a feeling and sight she could not describe. It was time for the waiting game.
Emily watched from the base of the bridge, her hands in the pockets of her jeans. It was about damn time, but she was just impatient because these boys were pretty smart. She hid in the dark waiting for the inevitable appearance of the resident woman in white. Emily huffed, her breath forming a tiny puff of steam before dissipating quickly. A churning in her stomach indicated the soon to be supernatural events, her instincts honed after too many years of being on the job. She looked to the ledge, a lovely woman standing at the edge. "Constance..." she whispered quietly, the woman looking down at her before allowing herself to fall from the bridge, disappearing as the boys reached the edge. She didn't bother hiding, since they had to know her eventually. The car revved to life, drawing Emily's surprised gaze. "Oh damn." She whispered, watching the car speed forward; watching the boys run desperately. She ran to the edge of the bridge, teleporting up as both brother dove off the edge, Sam lingering. She stood before the speeding car and held up her hand, her eyes going white as her white light skimmed over and through the car, Constance releasing a weak scream as she was driven from Dean's car, the front bumper stopping right before touching her knees. Lowering her hand, Emily's eyes slowly reverted to the golden brown she had come to know. She looked to her left, seeing Sam staring at her. "Ok...Let me explain?"
Dean paced in front of her as she sat on the roof of the Impala, one slim leg crossed over the other. "Look, I know you think that, because I can make pretty, pretty lights come out of my appendages, I need to die but, we're kind of on the same side here. And I know you don't trust me—" "You're goddamn right! I am damn close to splitting you." Emily sighed and leaned back. If only Dean knew her age, or her power, maybe he wouldn't be so condescending. "Ok, Macho Man, I'm a friend of your dad's. He's missing, I want to find him. I've been killing all manner of supernatural creatures since before any of your...family was born." She had to stop herself from saying ancestors because, frankly, she didn't think they could stomach the truth quite yet. "My name, these days, is Emily, and you can call me Em. Give me a chance to show you I'm worth knowing, ok?" Dean's look made her smile; she was getting to him and wasn't even trying. "I guarantee, you let me in now or I'll just keep following you guys. One way, or another." Emily turned her head to look at Sam, smiling pleasantly at him as he chuckled at his brother's mannerisms. "I'll give you two sometime to discuss it." She hopped off the car and handed Dean the motel address, heading down the bridge in a casual walk. She hated teleporting in front of mortals, since every single time, the response was the same, hunters and non-hunters alike.
"Cops? Seriously?" Emily high-tailed it right behind Sam, tying up her hair as they fled. Sam's brown eyes looked her over. She wondered if he would be less suspicious or not over time. It wasn't her fault they were chased off a bridge by a ghost car. "Look, you do your thing with the ex husband and I'm going to go peek around at old obits and see if I can't find the burial ground. Sounds good?" she said, trying to take the edge off of him, feeling kind of bad for the tough situation. Still, he nodded and they split off in different directions.
"Sam!" Emily yelled, running out of the brush alongside Dean who was busy trying to shoot the ghost. She ran forward, reaching into her pocket, pulling out a salt vial. She broke the glass in her hand and threw it forward, making the ghost vanish. "She won't be gone long!" The words had barely left her mouth before Sam rocketed the car into the house, a bewildered expression setting on her lovely features. "Wow. Was that necessary?" she murmured, running forward with Dean. Just as Dean entered before her, Constance appeared, clearly very pissed. Emily had no time to react before Constance's hand collided with her chest, propelling her backwards at an alarming rate. Slamming into a tree, Emily felt the sickening cracking of her bones. She fell to the ground, conscious but in nasty shape. She looked up, unable to see any of the events unfolding in the house. Emily groaned slightly, using her undamaged arm to push herself up, her advanced healing clearly not fast enough. "What I wouldn't do for naturally, or unnaturally for that matter, occurring pain meds." She whispered, cracking her shoulder back into place, the pain burning white hot.
Emily watched the guys as they finally freed the car and drove up to her as she sat at the base of the tree, still looking battered but alive. "Aww, Dean. You remembered me..." she murmured, the handsome man emerging from the car to help her out. She watched Sam dash over from the other side of the car, helping to lift her. She winced but smiled anyway, her back causing her a lot of agony. "Careful boys. I'm delicate." She joked, wilfully sliding into the backseat of their car. "Like hell you are." Dean shot back in a playful manner, gently closing the door behind her. She huffed softly, wishing she could sleep off the pain. She wasn't that lucky, though. Instead, she just sat quietly as they returned Sam to Stanford.
Emily smiled as Sam departed, taking the passenger seat in the car. "It was great to meet you Sam. And good luck on your interview thing!" she said, waving pleasantly. Emily was a bit jealous of Sam, seeing how he had the option to live a life away from this constant hunt. Dean said his farewells, commenting on how good of a team they had made which, in reality, was true. Sam and Dean were polar opposites but, honestly, they worked great together. Dean pulled the car forward but, before they had even turned the corner, Emily felt her stomach start to tighten and flip painfully. At first, she thought that, maybe it was the chilli cheeseburger she had at the last stop. "Dean, turn around. Go back." She murmured, a sudden look of distress coming to her face. Surprisingly, without question, Dean turned the car around. "It's Sam! Go get him!" she said, her stomach twisting and turning so hard it hurt her to the point that she couldn't move. She watched Dean run inside, watched the flames spread inside, watched history repeat itself. Sam, it seemed, could not escape...
Alright, so, its dry now. Emily's character doesn't get a lot of involvement during the first season. Think of her like Bobby but she appeared first and thus was in it more. A few chapters will be her hunting away from the guys because Supernatural is about family and the bond Sam and Dean share. She is not in love with, nor shall she ever be in love with, any of the Winchesters or their close relations. Keep reading and I guarantee it will be better as more is introduced. R&R 3 - Ichi