Disclaimer: Supernatural doesn't belong to me. I only own my character Mary-Elisabeth "Emmy" Winchester.
Sam swore he was just starting to fall asleep when a bloodcurdling scream echoed through Bobby's house. He let out a long, exhausted sigh before he forced himself out of bed. He threw a look at the empty bed across the room and clenched his teeth in frustration but didn't let it get to him. After a week, he was used to his absent brother. Especially at nights. What Dean had been up to every single night since their father died, nobody knew. But Sam had an idea and it involved booze, women and more booze.
Sam's bare feet patted against the wooden floor as he made his way over to his baby sister's room who was currently suffering from another night terror. She had been having these nightmares for five nights on a row now and it was taking its toll on Sam. He couldn't blame her though, he remembered his sleepless nights after his mother and Jessica burned to the ceiling. Emmy had seen her father die in front of her eyes, that was enough to scar her for life. No one deserved seeing their parents die, no matter what age they are.
Bobby appeared at the top of the stairs, his hair in disarray and his eyes still heavy with sleep. "Want me to take her?" he offered, like he did every night.
Sam shook his head. "No, I'll do it." It was his sister, his responsibility. "Go back to bed, Bobby."
His surrogate uncle gave him one last look before he nodded. "Call me if you need me," he said before going back downstairs. Bobby knew not to argue with Sam, knowing the boy, he would come to him if he really needed help. But as long as Sam could handle it, he would do it on his own.
Sam pinched his eyes closed as he stood in front of Emmy's door. He could hear her sob violently, gasping for breath and crying for her Daddy. Every little sound she made cut like a knife in his already scarred heart. After hearing her so broken every night, it never got easier, in fact it was only getting harder.
He opened the door, finding her entangled in her sheets, limbs flailing helplessly. Her voice was hoarse and raspy, her hair was matted against her forehead, she was drenched in sweat and tears. Sam walked over to her and acted on automatic pilot. He unwrapped the sheets from around her, his hand instinctively grabbed her wrists to avoid another scratch on his face, before he lifted her up in his lap. He made sure to trap her legs and arms, trying to hold her as still as possible. Waking her up wasn't an option, something he had learned the hard way. His main priority was to first get her to calm down, eventually she'd wake up on her own.
There was something heartbreaking about having to restrain her against his body – he could feel her pain, the agony eating her up inside and Sam wished he could take it all away. He wished she would never have to endure this amount of pain and grief. She deserved to be happy, have anything her big heart desired and never should something bad happen to her. But Sam couldn't give her all that, the only he could do was hold her close and whisper false promises.
"Shh, it's alright now, Emmy. It's alright. I got you, honey, I got you," he kept mumbling against her ear, over and over again.
It took almost fifteen minutes before the wrecking sobs were finally subdued. There was the occasional sniff, hiccup and tremor going through her body, but other than that she was quiet now. Her even takes of breaths signaled him that she woke up from her nightmare. As predicted, he felt her small hands grip his t-shirt as if afraid he would leave. Sam had practically drilled it into her head a million times that he wasn't going anywhere. But fear made her clingy whether she wanted or not.
"S'mmy?" her voice was barely a whisper, her warm breath fanning against the skin of his neck.
"Yeah, honey?" He rubbed circles on her back, gently rocking her back and forth.
"'m sorry."
"Don't be sorry, Emmy." He kissed her on the temple. If anyone should be sorry it's him. She didn't deserve this torture. "Was it the same nightmare again?"
He felt the slight shake of her head against her shoulder. "W'ndigo."
Sam sighed. Every night she would dream about one of the cases they had been on in the past – the shape shifter, the vampires, the hook man, the demons, the Daeva's, etcetera. The only difference was that it was never the victims getting hurt or killed but their father. She would dream about John getting killed by these monsters every night in the most horrible and gruesome ways. This time it was the Wendigo murdering their father and Sam knew already enough not to ask her about it.
"Let's get you cleaned up, honey." He picked her up in his arms and did the usual rituals they have been doing the last week.
He took her to her bathroom and helped her out of her clothes. He wetted a washcloth and rubbed it over her, trying to get rid of the sweat and tears. Once he was finished, he changed her into one of his old t-shirts that came down to her knees and took her back into his arms. Instead of putting her back into her bed, he brought her downstairs to the living room where he would lay down with her on the couch with the television on in the background. It was the only way to get her back to sleep. And she needed that sleep, more than anything else.
Sam knew he couldn't take all the nightmares away and the pain, but he took it upon himself to make sure her basic and most important needs were fulfilled. That means sleeping, eating and talking. He had spent the first two days getting her to eat, the previous day was the first time she talked again, even though it was just words and not full sentences but it was a start. And now he was trying to get her to sleep without having nightmares.
It was hard, very hard. But Sam didn't mind, he would do anything for her, anything. He kind of already had experience when it came to dealing with losing someone you loved. Emmy never lost anyone she loved so much like her father and she yet had to find a way to deal with that. Her way of grieving was to close off, which reminded him of Dean. The only difference is that Dean searched a way to take his anger and hurt out on something or someone. While Emmy kept everything bottled up causing her feelings to surface through terrible night terrors. But either way, Sam wasn't going to let her down.
SPN
It was the sound of water running and the smell of coffee that woke Sam up for the second time that day. He groaned, running a tired hand down his face. He could see a thin line of sunlight peeking out from under the curtains in the living room, signaling him that it was morning. Six in the morning to be exact, according to the old clock hanging on the wall. He couldn't feel anything in his left arm, the one Emmy used as a pillow. She was asleep, having no nightmares seeing as her face wasn't scrunched up but smooth like it was supposed to be. He carefully moved his arm from under her head, quickly replacing it with a pillow. When she didn't wake up, he sighed in relief. Now came the hardest part, releasing her fierce grip on his t-shirt. She moaned in her sleep, her hold tightening. Sam really didn't want to risk waking her up and did something he used to do when she was just a little baby. He swiftly worked his way out of his t-shirt and bundled the fabric against her. Emmy's face automatically hid in his t-shirt as she let out a contented sigh.
That was close, Sam thought before he quietly left the room, closing the door behind him. He made his way over to the kitchen, finding Dean at the counter with his back facing him. He was fixing himself a sandwich while the coffee maker brewed.
Without a word, Sam opened the fridge, grabbing some milk.
Dean turned around at the noise and eyed his brother up and down. "You look like crap warmed over."
Sam drank right from the bottle but didn't comment on his brother's remark. "Where were you last night?" he asked instead.
"Out," was Dean's only reply as he took a seat at the small kitchen table.
Sam took the opposite chair and stared at his brother who was trying his best to avoid eye contact. "She needs you Dean."
Dean groaned. "Not this again, Sam."
"You can't keep avoiding her," Sam stressed.
"I'm not avoiding her." Dean rolled his eyes. "I already told you, I need space. I can't give her what she wants when I'm still a mess. I need to sort myself out before I can even approach her."
"That's bull," Sam scoffed. "You don't need space, that's what you make yourself believe. You need to open up, talk. If not to me, then talk to someone else, I don't care who as long as you talk about it."
Dean's tired eyes lifted up enough to look at his younger brother. "Don't tell me what to do, Sam."
"I'm just trying to help –"
"Well I don't need your help," Dean interrupted with a snap.
Sam was quiet, fiddling with the loose threads of the worn tablecloth. "Remember when Mom died? I was scared, confused and hurt. I had these terrible nightmares plaguing me every night. And you would stay up with me, talk me through it." Sam searched his brother's eyes. "You would always say, Sam, talk to me. You pushed me about it and it worked, Dean. It helped. Not only for me, but you too. And you know that."
Dean shook his head, biting the insides of his cheeks. "This isn't about Dad dying," he mumbled under his breath. He knew how to handle his old man's death. God only knew how many times he had to say goodbye to the people close to him, it was almost second nature to deal with the loss.
"What?" Sam asked.
"I said it's not Dad. It's something else … something I can't talk about."
The last words his father said were whispered to him, words he couldn't get out of his head. They kept whirling around, making him think too much, making him crazy. He wished his father would've never told him about Sam and Emmy. His siblings didn't realize that he was avoiding them because he couldn't look them in the eye, not with Johns voice ringing in his ears.
"Then what is it, Dean? Tell me. I can help, I can – "
"You don't understand Sam! There isn't anything you can do alright. So drop it already," he ordered through gritted teeth.
Sam huffed in disbelief. "You can't just sit there wallowing in self-pity and ask me to just watch and do nothing."
"I'm not asking you anything, I'm telling you to leave it alone," Dean corrected.
Sam crossed his arms over his bare chest, leaning back against his chair. "Okay fine, push me away. I don't care. But don't you dare shut off Emmy, Dean. She needs you like I needed you when Mom and Jessica died."
Dean stared at the coffee in his hands, the darkness matching his mood. "She doesn't need me," he said softly. "She has you."
"Well I'm not enough," Sam reasoned simply. He sighed, running a hand through his messy hair. "Jesus Dean, she never had to deal with anyone dying up until a month ago. Now she had to say goodbye to three people she loved, and one of them is her own father. She practically worshipped him, Dad could never do wrong in her eyes, he was her world. And she has seen her world fall apart in front of her eyes. Literally."
Dean blinked. His face emotionless but Sam knew that was just his mask he was using.
"What do you want me to do, Sam? She's not talking – "
"Actually she is," Sam cut him off. "Since yesterday. She's not saying much but it's a start."
"Well it doesn't matter cuz I don't do talking," Dean instantly dismissed the option. "What do you even want me to say? Oh hey sweetheart, I feel your pain but what can you do about it? Life's just a joke and you're the punch line. The big man above just likes to see how many blows a person can take and before you know it, he screws you over, making you an orphan just for the hell of it cause no one ever said life was gonna be easy."
Sam glared at his brother, shooting daggers. "That was rude and totally uncalled-for."
"Look, I'm sorry alright," Dean let out an apologetic huff. "All I'm trying to say is that I'm not the right person to talk to, especially not with the crap leaving my mouth. I don't wanna hurt Emmy more than she already is."
Sam snorted a laugh, unamused. "Dean, you're already hurting Emmy by just ignoring her."
Dean's jaw ticked. "Well tell her it's not my intention alright."
"You tell her," Sam shot back. "You haven't said a word to her since we burned Dad. Hell you haven't even looked at her. How do you think that makes her feel? She thinks you're mad at her, she thinks it's her fault Dad died."
"That's ridiculous," Dean said.
"Can you blame her? Especially with the way you're treating her," Sam argued. "Do you have any idea what she's going through every night? She screams and cries for hours, Dean. Hours. She's scared to death to fall asleep, the inside of her arms are black and blue from all the pinches she gives herself to stay awake. If you had been around instead of hitting anything that moves, you would've noticed."
Dean averted his eyes to the window where he could see the sun slowly rising, anything to avoid his brother's piercing glare. Every word Sam said was like a punch hitting him right in the face. The accusations Sam threw him were on point and Dean had nothing to say. He was guilty and he knew it. He wanted nothing more than grab that adorable little girl, hold her, kiss her and tell her that everything was going to be alright even if it was a lie. But he couldn't, not with his father's words still tormenting him.
"You done?" Dean stood up from the table. "Cause I got work to do." With that he left, slamming the door shut.
Sam slumped into his chair, dropping his head in his hands. He didn't hear someone else coming in, until he felt a small hand on his back. He looked up to find Emmy staring at him worriedly, his t-shirt bundled in her arms.
"I'm sorry, did we wake you up?" He pulled her between his legs, his arms circling her slender body.
She nodded tiredly. "Where is Dean?" She could've sworn she heard his voice.
"Uh, he just left." Sam didn't miss the disappointment flashing in her eyes.
Her finger lightly trailed a healing scar on his jaw. "Does he hate me?"
Her brother let out an exasperated sigh. "Emmy, how many times do I have to tell you, he doesn't hate you. I already explained this, he's just in a bad place right now and he's looking for a way to deal with everything that has happened. But it has nothing to do with you, alright?" He cupped her chin, tilting her head up until there was eye contact. "He doesn't hate you and it's not your fault," he told her firmly.
Emmy only nodded but didn't say anything else. Sam pulled her back against his chest, his hands rubbing her back up and down. Emmy rested her chin against his shoulder, relishing his warm touch. Her eyes swept over the unfinished sandwich on the table; a fried egg sandwich with ketchup – only Dean ate ketchup for breakfast.
Emmy missed her big brother, it had been days since he had spoken a word to her. Sometimes she'd catch him watching her when he thought she didn't notice. And every time she wondered what he was thinking as he looked at her, cause he would always leave afterwards and not come back until the wee hours of the morning.
At first she thought it was his way of dealing with their father's death. Maybe he wanted to approach her, sooth her, talk to her, but didn't know how. But that just didn't make any sense, because her brother was number one in knowing how to comfort her. He raised her, he was there from the very beginning. He knew how to handle her tears, he knew how to act around her, he knew exactly how to react to every little signal she sends. So for him to suddenly not know how to handle her was highly unlikely.
That only left one other option which was that he obviously hated her. That's the only explanation Emmy could think of. Her brother never ever ignored her like that before. Not even when he's mad at her – which practically never happens since Dean couldn't for the life of him be mad at her. She figured he possibly blamed her for what happened to their father. The logical part in her young mind told her that she was being absurd. There was no way that her father dying was her fault. But the bigger part of her mind, the one that got steered by her insecurity and sorrow, told her that she was the cause of Dean being distant. And Emmy didn't see why she should believe otherwise unless her brother would talk to her and prove her differently. But he has not said anything to her face since their father passed away.
Emmy remembered giving the M&M's to Dean after she and her father had a heart to heart. She had paid no heed to his words back then, she thought he was just having those moments where he felt he needed to get something off his chest. It wasn't until she got back with Sam from getting coffee that she realized the true meaning of his words. Her father told her goodbye.
She'll never forget the sight of the doctors attempting to resuscitate their father. She'll never forget how they called it – time of death: 10:41 pm.. She'll never forget how at that moment when she caught Dean's eye, that something had changed. Emmy didn't know what had changed back then, but now she knew.
Dean changed.
She just wished she knew what had changed him. Maybe then she could fix him and get her goofy but loving brother back.
SPN
Two days passed when Bobby pulled up at his house in the morning, shutting off the loud engine of his rusty truck. He grabbed his stuff and got out of the car, walking over to the porch where he found Emmy reading a book with Rumsfeld sitting at her feet. She used one hand to turn the pages, while her other hand absently stroked the Rottweiler's fur.
"Hey darlin'."
Emmy startled, almost dropping her book. She looked up at the towering form standing in front of her, squinting her eyes from the blaring sun. She offered him a small smile, "Hi."
Bobby was surprised to hear her talk again after a week of silence. He was starting to miss her constant chatter and playful teasing. "Watcha got over there?" he asked, pointing at the book in her lap, hoping to engage her into a conversation.
Emmy showed him the cover with the title. "Harry Potter."
"I thought you already finished that one," Bobby commented. He already knew that she loved to read those books over and over again, but he wanted to hear her say it.
She shrugged her small shoulders and Bobby assumed it was the only answer he would get. That's until she opened her mouth.
"Because I like it."
"You lil' bookworm." The skin around his eyes wrinkled as he flashed a smile. "Are you brothers around?"
"Sammy's inside." She threw a thumb over her shoulder, pointing at the front door. "And I don't know where Dean is."
Bobby didn't fail to notice the hopelessness when she said the last sentence. He always remembered Emmy as the little sister who followed her big brother everywhere. If you were looking for her, just ask Dean. And if you were looking for Dean, just ask Emmy. Bobby used to call them shadows since the two never strayed too far from each other. So hearing her say that she didn't know where her brother was, was unusual.
He sighed. "Well, don't stay out too long in the sun." He ruffled her hair as he got up the stairs before getting inside the house.
He found Sam at the kitchen table where multiple cell phones were scattered around. Bobby greeted him, alerting him of his presence.
Sam looked up from one of the phones he was working on. "Hey."
"Watcha doing?" Bobby asked while putting some errands away.
"I'm trying to crack the code of Dad's phones."
"Why? You think you'll find something in there?" Bobby questioned as he opened the fridge for a bottle of beer.
"I hope so. We lost both Azazel and the Colt so I'll take any help I can get." Sam let out a tired sigh.
Bobby nodded in understanding, taking a seat at the table. "You find anything yet?"
"Not yet. Most of 'em have unread messaged or missed phone calls, but none of them are of use." Sam collected four phones and threw them back in the box.
"What about this one." Bobby pointed at an old Motorola flip phone. "He always had that one with him."
Sam opened it and huffed in irritation when the device demanded a password. He first tried the same code from the previous phones but it was obvious that his father used a different one for each phone.
"What's your brother been up to?"
Sam didn't bother looking up from punching the buttons. "Junkyard. As usual."
The two went quiet, sitting in a comfortable silence until Bobby spoke up. "Does your sister like rollerblades?"
Sam looked up, giving him a confused look. "What?"
"Rollerblades. The shoes with the wheels –"
"Yeah, I know what rollerblades are," Sam rolled his eyes. "Why would you wanna know if Emmy likes rollerblades?"
"Cuz I got her a pair," was Bobby's simple reply before he got up.
Sam, still puzzled, frowned. "Why?"
"Cuz it's a special occasion." Bobby stood up and walked up behind him. "You might wanna try today's date," he referred to the phone before he left the kitchen.
"Today's date?" Sam muttered under his breath as he punched in the numbers. To his surprise, the cell phone unlocked. That's when it dawned on him. "Crap." Sam dropped the phone, running his hands through his hair.
Emmy's birthday.
Today his little sister, who was only getting bigger, turned ten. He never forgot her birthday, not once and neither did Dean. He wondered if his brother forgot too. Hell, he wondered if even Emmy remembered. With everything that happened the last couple days, they were just too caught up with other stuff. Sam felt guilty. He hadn't even bought anything yet. He always got something for her, even when he was away at Stanford, he always made sure to send her a gift.
The phone chirped multiple times, receiving all the messages from past months. Sam skimmed through them but found nothing beneficial. He decided to listen to some voicemails, but got nothing interesting until he got one from a certain Ellen Harvelle. The message was almost four months old.
"John, it's Ellen. Again. Look, don't be stubborn, you know I can help you. Call me."
SPN
Emmy wasn't really reading, although she did try, anything to get her mind off what today was. She didn't want to think of her birthday, she didn't want to think of the teddy bear she hid somewhere in her bedroom – because the sight of it hurt too much – she didn't want to be reminded of the fact that her father just passed away, not even having the chance to see her live to ten years. It was unfair. It was almost like she didn't even deserve to have parents. Everyone she knew had someone to call Mom and Dad, and she had no one to call that anymore.
She felt like everyone she knew or loved, left her at some point. Her mother, pastor Jim, Caleb and now her father. It wouldn't surprise her if Dean left her too, especially with the way he acted around her. Emmy still had no idea what his deal was, but it was clear to her that she was the problem since he didn't act the same way towards Sam and Bobby. Either way, Emmy gave up trying to reach her brother, he didn't need her. And if being away from her was what he wanted, then so be it. Emmy made herself believe that she didn't need him either … right? She could live without him … right?
The screen door behind her opened causing Rumsfeld to look up to see who it was before he laid back down. Heavy footsteps alerted her of her brother's presence, she could recognize Sam just by the way he walked. Emmy looked up from the page she'd been 'reading' for half an hour now. Her brother smiled down at her and she instantly detected something else in his eyes. Something akin to guilt, like he felt sorry for her. Lately that was his permanent look whenever he looked at her.
"Hey, honey. Wanna go check on the Impala?"
Emmy didn't fail to notice how Sam didn't ask if she wanted to go see their brother, knowing all too well that her answer would've been no. If her brother didn't do any effort into seeing her, then she won't either. Both could play that game. Still she couldn't ignore that nagging feeling, the one that hunkered to see her brother. And with seeing her brother, she meant just seeing her brother. She didn't plan on talking to him, or anything that gave him a tiny bit of attention. He didn't deserve it anyway, not when all he did was avoid her.
"My shoes are still inside." She wriggled her bare toes.
Sam didn't say anything and crouched in front of her with his back facing her. "Hop on."
SPN
Dean wiped away a trail of sweat on his forehead with the back of his hand, leaving a trail of oil instead. He rummaged through the toolbox, looking for the right wrench when his eyes caught something in the distance. Sam was walking in his direction, carrying a blonde bundle on his back. His brother's lips were moving but he couldn't make out what he was saying, but it must be something funny because he didn't miss the grin on his sister's face. The sound of her giggle caused him heartache, the kind of pure anguish and regret.
Sam's voice got louder and Dean quickly got back underneath the Impala, his legs sticking out. It wasn't long before he could hear his brother's footsteps and him asking how the car was coming along.
"Slow," Dean answered, his voice muffled.
Sam put Emmy down on the hood of another car. "Yeah? You need any help?"
Dean scoffed. "What, you under a hood? I'll pass."
"Need anything else, then?" Sam asked, leaning on the hood next to Emmy.
Dean pushed himself out from under the Impala and got on his feet. "Stop it, Sam." He wiped his hands on his pants while he looked for the dirty old rag.
"Stop what?" Sam pretended he was oblivious.
Dean rolled his eyes, he could read his brother like a book. "Stop asking if I need anything, stop asking if I'm okay. I'm okay. Really. I promise," he said as he still looked for the rag.
Emmy noticed how her brother hadn't once looked her way, and she would be lying if she said it didn't hurt. She noticed a cloth, coated in oil, behind her on the hood. Dean stopped looking around when her hand stretched out to him, holding the rag. He took it with a quick thanks but not before his eyes swept over the bruises on the inside of her arms. Dean's jaw clenched at the realization that his brother was talking the truth. Not that Sam would lie to him about something like that but Dean had not believed it at first … until now. He had the sudden urge to grab her and simply take care of her. It was against his nature to hold back and leave it to someone else to deal with.
Sam let out a heavy sigh, tucking his hands in his pockets. "All right, Dean, it's just we've been at Bobby's for over a week now and you still haven't talked about what's going on with you." Sam remembered Dean's words when he said that their Dad wasn't the issue and he was dying to know what did had his brother acting like he was.
Dean threw the rag away. "You know what? You're right. Come here. I'm gonna lay my head gently on your shoulder. Maybe we can cry, hug, and maybe even slow dance." Even though he knew that his brother only had good intentions, Dean still couldn't help but mock him. When he felt conflicted inside, he didn't have control over the words coming out of his mouth.
"Don't patronize me, Dean. Dad is dead," Sam snapped. "The Colt is gone, and it seems pretty damn likely that the demon is behind all of this, and you're acting like nothing happened."
"What do you want me to say?" Dean's quiet voice proved he was tired of it all.
"I already told you to talk! Say something, all right? Hell, say anything!" Sam sounded exasperated. "Aren't you angry? Don't you want revenge?" he demanded. "But all you do is sit out here all day long buried underneath this damn car."
Dean licked his lips. "Revenge, huh?"
"Yeah," Sam breathed.
"Sounds good," Dean nodded. He crossed his arms over his chest, taking a step closer to Sam. "You got any leads on where the demon is? Making heads or tails of any of Dad's research? Because I sure ain't. But you know, if we do finally find it - oh. No, wait, like you said. The Colt's gone. But I'm sure you've figured out another way to kill it." Sam's eyes narrowed in frustration but Dean didn't take it as a sign to stop his rant. "We've got nothing, Sam. Nothing, okay? So you know the only thing I can do? Is I can work on the car."
Sam watched as his brother got back to work. "Well, we've got something, all right?" He pulled out their father's cell phone, handing it over to Dean. "It's what I came by here to tell you. This is one of dad's old phones. Took me a while, but I cracked his voicemail code. Listen to it." Dean stood and took it reluctantly. "I ran a trace on her phone number and I got an address. I'll ask Bobby if we can use a car." With that Sam left, leaving Dean to listen to the voice mail.
"Why would Dad save this chick's message for months?" he mumbled to himself, not noticing his sister's presence behind his back.
Emmy cleared her throat, causing Dean to turn around. He thought Sam had taken her back with him but he apparently didn't. Dean was sure he did it on purpose.
Nice try, Sammy. Nice try.
"I forgot my shoes," Emmy pointed out softly. For the first time since she had arrived, her brother finally made eye contact. Something that shouldn't make her feel nervous at all, but she couldn't help it. She walked on eggshells around him, afraid she would set him off or something, because in her mind he was mad at her – not knowing that her brother wasn't blaming her at all.
Dean was angry at his father, angry for the stuff he kept from him. He had no right to keep those secrets and then decide drop it like a bomb. Dean already had his shoulders full with the burdens he carried daily, he had no strength for more responsibility and stress. He tried taking his anger out on something else, the reason why he was working nonstop on the Impala and hit the bars every night. Making Emmy feel guilty was the last thing he wanted to do. But he realized that the damage was already done and with the way he acted around her, he only made things worse.
Emmy mistook his lack of reaction for being dismissed – ignored was what it really was but dismissed sounded better to her. She slowly slid off the car's hood, careful of where she was walking.
Dean snapped out of his reverie and jumped into action. "Hey, come on. I'll take you inside."
His sister's blue eyes widened in surprise. He didn't know if it was because of his offer or the fact that he probably just said the longest sentence to her since the day they lost their father.
"I-It's okay." She wasn't used declining Dean. Normally she would've demanded him to carry her on his shoulders so she could be taller and see his point of view. Dean would have laughed and let her cover his eyes so she could guide him. He never told her that he could still see between her fingers, letting her believe that she was taking the lead.
"There's glass and other stuff you can hurt yourself with." Dean wiped his hands off one last time before he walked over to her. "Let's go." He hoisted her up onto his shoulders with ease, feeling her small hands automatically wrap around his forehead.
Dean knew he missed her, but he never knew how much he missed the physical contact until now. Having her on his shoulders, it was as if she pushed away the heavy mental weight. It made him think that maybe instead of avoiding her, keeping her close was exactly what he needed to do. He had been doing the opposite the entire time, not knowing that she was the solution to how torn he felt inside. She was the cure to his pain. And little did he know that he was the cure to hers.
SPN
Sam looked up when he heard footsteps coming his way. Dean, with Emmy on his shoulders, glared at him with narrowed eyes. Sam's only response was to smirk. He knew his brother was probably annoyed for having left their baby sister with him. But in Sam's defense, Dean had it coming – if he didn't take the first step, then Sam was more than happy to do the honor. He did notice they weren't talking or anything, but that wasn't Sam's goal anyway. He just wanted them to be alone together, even if it was just for ten minutes, it was worth it. He hoped it would improve the uneasiness between them.
"You've got to be kidding me," Dean groaned once his eyes caught the beat-up minivan Sam was leaning against.
"It's the only car Bobby had running." Sam patted the roof.
Dean reached up and effortlessly put Emmy back down. He tried to ignore how she instantly moved to Sam's side, who automatically put an arm around her shoulders.
"Do I look like a soccer mom to you?" Dean looked at the metal wreck in pure disgust. He absolutely didn't want to be seen in that car, not even if his life depended on it.
Emmy tugged at Sam's sleeve, gesturing for him to get down to her level. "Are you guys gonna leave?" she almost whispered.
"We'll just be gone for a few hours, honey," he said as he adjusted the hairclip hanging from her hair.
"Can I come with you?"
Sam sighed, exchanging a look with Dean who had been pretending to check the car out while he really was listening to the conversation he apparently wasn't part of. He didn't like how she clung to Sam or how she talked to him, only him, as if he wasn't there. Dean didn't know if she was trying to give him a taste of his own medicine or if she was simply picking Sam over him – either way, he didn't like it. He was always the first one she came to, since she was practically a baby. It had always been like that, first Dean then Sam. Now the roles were reversed, and Dean felt uncomfortable and slightly threatened because he lost his position. But then again, it was his fault. He shouldn't have acted like someone who didn't deserve that first place.
"We don't know who we're dealing with yet, honey. We're only gonna check this woman out and if it's safe, you can come with us the next time," Sam suggested. "Watcha think?"
Emmy was hesitant but still shrugged unconvincingly. "I just don't want you to go." Last time her brothers left without her, they got into an accident. She wasn't about to risk that again, she wouldn't be able to handle that. Emmy wanted her brothers close, she would be devastated if anything happened to them again. She already lost enough people.
"Don't worry, Emmy. We'll be back before you know it." Sam drew her closer so he could whisper in her ear, "I haven't forgotten about your special day. I promise we'll get you something when we're back."
"I don't want anything."
"Honey, don't say that. It's your birthday, we have to celebrate it," Sam reasoned.
Emmy nibbled on her bottom lip. She quieted for a few seconds before speaking up, "Can we maybe celebrate it another day?"
It's too soon, Sam thought. He completely understood her. He wasn't really in the mood either and he wanted her to have a fun birthday, not one where everyone pretended all was well and good.
"That's fine by me. Whatever you want, honey. We can put it off until you feel it's the right moment."
She flashed him a small smile. "Thanks."
"You might wanna tell Bobby, cause I heard he already got you something." Sam winked. Emmy's eyes twinkled a little in curiousness and Sam chuckled lightly. "Go check it out and spare him the trouble of trying to wrap it up. We all know he sucks at that."
She grinned and Sam was momentarily happy to see her smile a real, genuine smile. He missed it.
"When will you be back?" she asked.
"I'll try to make it in time for dinner," he promised.
"Hey ladies, need some coffee to talk over?" Dean patted the hood, catching his siblings' attention. He had enough of the conversation that didn't include him. He knew Sam and Emmy were close, but he and his little sister were closer. He couldn't stand being on the sidelines. Dean got it in the car, the leather seat squeaked and the dashboard doll swung her hips with a hula hoop. He caught his brother saying something to his sister in the rearview mirror. Emmy nodded at whatever Sam said before pecking his cheek. She casted one last look at the minivan and Dean caught her hesitance. As if changing her mind, she shook her head and turned the other way.
SPN
"What was that!" Bobby yelled from his study.
Emmy eyed the broken pieces of glass that once belonged to a beautiful long vase on the coffee table. She had been practicing on her new roller-skates and might have been a little too wild. She had promised Bobby to be careful and to avoid the furniture, but there was something exceptionally fun about twirling in circles around the table. That's until the vase tumbled and the fun had ended.
"What's goin' on in here?" Bobby demanded, appearing in the living room.
Emmy turned around, putting on her innocent mask. She pointed at the oblivious dog, lying peacefully on the carpet. "He did it."
"What the hell is that dog doin' inside?"
"I don't know." Emmy shrugged her small shoulders. "He just came in."
"Oh really?" Bobby crossed his arms over his chest in a confronting way. "How?"
Emmy fiddled with the hem of her t-shirt. "Uhm, through the door."
"So you're sayin' he unlocked the door, walked in and closed it with his tail."
"Or maybe I forgot to close the door," she suggested.
Bobby cocked an eyebrow. "Or maybe you took him inside?"
Emmy's eyes slid to her roller-skates which suddenly looked interesting. "Maybe."
Bobby shook his head, trying not to laugh. He wasn't going to lie, he had been soft on her these last couple days. He let her get away with things he would never allow, such as the TV in her bedroom, roller-skating inside the house, playing in the junkyard, reading books about supernatural creatures and even letting her help clean his guns. But deep inside, Bobby didn't mind. All he has been doing is trying to keep her busy. It seemed that as long as she was doing something, it helped her get things off her mind. She didn't look like she was dealing with her father's death, in fact she acted pretty normal, especially since she decided to talk again. It was at nights that her real emotions surfaced through night terrors. It looked like everything she managed to bottle up or hide during the day, came out at night.
"I'll take him back outside if you want," Emmy offered, bringing him out of his train of thoughts.
Bobby stared into those big, baby blues and already felt the strictness he tried to maintain melt. One look at that cute face and he was all mushy inside.
"It's okay," he relented. "But only today. And clean the mess up, will ya?"
"Thanks uncle Bobby." Emmy roller-skated her way to him, wrapping her arms around his waist in a quick hug before running off upstairs with Rumsfeld on her heels.
Bobby smiled until he caught the broken vase she didn't clean up. "Little rascal got me again," he grumbled, moving to pick up the pieces.
SPN
Emmy entered her room, almost tripping over her pants lying on the floor. She picked it up and noticed that the whole room was a mess. She heaved a big sigh before dropping to the floor. She started cleaning up her stuff when something under her bed got her attention. Two dark teddy bear eyes stared back at her. Emmy swallowed thickly.
The first thing she did when they came back from burning her father, was hiding that teddy bear. She couldn't bear looking at the stuffed animal without busting into tears. The plush toy, Johnnie, reminded her of the person she tried not to think about. The eyes, the scent, and even the name, screamed John and it physically hurt whenever she remembered her father was gone.
She took the brown bear and stuffed it in a box, high up on her shelf. The thing only made her miserable, and she was already feeling bad enough. The fact that today was her birthday, and that her father was supposed to be there, and give her his gift now instead of the day he died, did nothing to ease the heartache.
Getting her mind off her father was her only goal during the day. When she was awake she could control the thoughts clogging up her brains. She could determine what could enter her mind and what not. And it worked, as long as she had something to do. But as soon as night comes, she loses the upper hand and the nightmares arise.
Emmy had had to deal with nightmares in the past, they weren't unfamiliar to her, she even knew how to deal with them – music and Dean. But these nightmares were something else, they were livid and literally sucked the breath out of her longs. They left her drained, terrified and exhausted – mentally and physically. She'd never experienced anything like that before and that only scared her more, to the point she'd hurt herself to stay up. Sleeping two to three hours a night was taking its toll on her body that was used to at least eight hours a night. Emmy had no energy to play the whole day, she couldn't keep up, it was too tiring. As soon as the clock strikes five, she'd start fighting the battle against sleep.
Emmy never won though and always found herself waking up in cold sweat from another horrible nightmare. Every night was the same, and it never got better. Nothing worked either. Her iPod was useless, so was sleeping next to Sam. It seemed like those dreams infected her brains and she couldn't find the cure. The only hope she got, is crossing her fingers and wishing it will all get better in time.
"Emmy we're back!" Sam suddenly called out from downstairs.
She quickly gathered her dirty clothes and threw them in her hamper. It wasn't until she walked in front of the mirror that she caught sight of her red rimmed eyes and tears streaming down her cheeks. She quickly wiped them away with her sleeve, sniffing, trying to conceal them. She was surprised she even had tears left in her system after all the crying she did. She was sick of it though and refused to cry openly in front of anyone. Except when she awakens from the nightmares, that's the only time her dreams had control over the tear ducts and not her. She made sure every trail was gone before she got down.
SPN
With Emmy snuggled up next to him, the TV providing the only light in the dark living room and the comfortable couch, Sam was sure he was about to fall asleep too. It took him two hours to get his sister to sleep. He had to hold onto her hands to stop her from pinching herself. It resulted into a fuss but it didn't take long before she ceded.
"You found anything?"
"Shh!" Sam admonished Dean who hadn't noticed their sister sleeping until he walked closer.
Adjusting the laptop on his lap, Sam froze when Emmy moaned in her sleep. Her face scrunched up and Sam held his breathe, hoping she wouldn't wake up. Her face smoothed after a couple seconds and he let out a breath in relief when she got back to sleep.
Dean threw his hands up in surrender and quietly moved to sit on the couch at his brother's feet. "So did you find anything?" he whispered, referring to the case they got from Ellen.
Sam turned his laptop, showing him the screen with the research he found.
Dean's eyed widened in disbelief at seeing the image of what appeared to be an evil clown, and not the kind of funny clown that made kids laugh. "You've gotta be kidding me. A killer clown?"
"Yeah." Sam turned the laptop back. "He left the daughter unharmed and killed the parents. Ripped them to pieces, actually."
Dean leaned back against the couch. "And this family was at some carnival that night?"
"Right, right." Sam's eyes swept over the article. "The, uh, Cooper Carnivals."
"So how do you know we're not dealing with some psycho carnie in a clown suit?" Dean asked.
Sam tiredly scratched the nape of his neck, stretching a muscle. "Well, the cops have no viable leads, and all the employees were tearing down shop. Alibis all around. Plus this girl said she saw a clown vanish into thin air. Cops are saying trauma, of course."
Dean went silent for several seconds when a thought suddenly came to mind. He chuckled quietly, earning a weird look from his brother. "Well, I know what you're thinking, Sam. Why did it have to be clowns?"
Sam rolled his eyes. "Oh, give me a break."
"You didn't think I'd remember, did you?" Dean laughed softly as to not wake Emmy up. "I mean, come on, you still bust out crying whenever you see Ronald McDonald on the television. Emmy used to try to scare you with that clown nose she won at a fun fair."
"Well, at least I'm not afraid of flying."
Dean's smile dropped in less than a second. "Planes crash!" he whispered in defense.
"And apparently clowns kill!" Sam replied.
"So these types of murders," Dean quickly changed the subject, "they ever happen before?"
Sam scrolled through the document he found. "Uh, according to the file, 1981, the Bunker Brothers Circus, same M.O. It happened three times, three different locales."
"It's weird, though," Dean frowned, "I mean if it is a spirit it's usually bound to a specific locale, you know, a house, or a town."
Sam's eyes narrowed in thought. "So how's this one moving from city to city, carnival to carnival?" he wondered out loud.
"Cursed object, maybe," Dean suggested. "Spirit attaches itself to something and the, uh, carnival carries it around with them."
"Great." Sam huffed. "Paranormal scavenger hunt," he said with no enthusiasm.
"Well, this case was your idea," Dean pointed out. "By the way, why is that? You were awfully quick to jump on this job."
Sam shrugged. "So?"
Dean lifted up his shoulders. "It's just ... not like you, that's all. I thought you were hell-bent for leather on the demon hunt."
"I don't know, I just think this job … " Sam trailed, one of his hands absently combing through Emmy's hair, "It's what Dad would have wanted us to do."
Dean's eyes fell on his baby sister's sleeping form when she stirred at their brother's touch. "What Dad would have wanted?"
"Yeah." Sam twirled a blonde lock between his fingers. "So?" he asked again with an almost challenging tone.
"Nothing," Dean replied without taking his eyes off his sister.
"You wanna take her to her room?"
"Why don't you do it?" Dean shot his brother a questioning look.
"Cuz I'm busy," Sam said in a duh-tone, pointing at his laptop.
Dean held his brother's gaze for several seconds longer. This was the second time Sam tried to involve him with Emmy. "Don't try to pretend you don't know what you're doing, cuz I got you all figured out."
Sam snorted. "What's that even supposed to mean?"
"You know damn well what I'm talking about." Dean stood up and carefully picked Emmy up. Her head nestled against his shoulder and she briefly brushed her nose against his t-shirt, something she always did in her sleep. He felt her arms automatically circle his neck as she let out a sleepy sigh.
"Don't forget to put some of that cream on her arms, it'll help against the bruises," Sam called after him. "And don't close the door," he added. "Also, don't draw the curtains and leave her nightlight on." When Dean reached the top of the stairs, he quickly added, "Don't cover her with the duvet, it's too hot, she'll only kick it away. Just use the blanket. Oh, and leave some water – "
"Sam!" Dean cut him off. "I've been putting her to bed since she was four months old for crying out loud. I don't need your instructions."
"Sorry," Sam apologized sheepishly.
Dean's only reply was to turn his back on his brother and climb on the stairs. "He tucks her in for a week and already thinks he can show me the ropes," Dean muttered under his breath in irritation.
He carefully put Emmy in her bed, making sure she was comfortable and tucked in. He took the bobby pins from her hair, his fingers stroking the soft strands. He took the tube with ointment and proceeded to gently rub it over the insides of her arms. Looking closely, he could see the imprints of her short nails. Some of them were so deep, they had drawn blood and left little scars behind. It pained Dean to see that she hurt herself in order to avoid those nightmares.
He had no idea how bad they were since he was never there to witness them. Sam had informed him more than once but Dean always thought his brother exaggerated. But seeing the bruises made him realize that he had it wrong big time, and that only added up to the guilt he already carried around.
He brushed the bangs from her face, his hand lingering on her cheek. Dean couldn't help but wonder if all of the pain she carried inside was partly his fault. Their father dying was hard on them, but she probably took it the hardest. It was the harsh truth but Sam and Dean were familiar with the grieving process, they had already lost a parent once. And Dean was ashamed to admit that his father's death was less difficult for him to deal with. He almost couldn't remember the way his father used to be, he had lost him the day he lost his mother. From that moment on, John was another man, he was another father, one that was so consumed with rage and getting revenge. Dean and Sam had already said goodbye to their 'old' father back then, that's why this goodbye was easier for them.
Dean trailed his finger down the bridge of Emmy's freckled nose. She never got to know the 'old' John, she only knew the 'new' John, the one who was a hunter. She accepted their father the way he was, with his flaws and all. When he made a mistake, she offered a clean slate. When he did something wrong, she turned the other cheek. When he hurt her, she forgave him. All of that, not because she was weak or had no backbone. No, it was because she loved him to the point she was practically blinded to see his imperfections. And even though Dean was the one who raised her, John was still her father, her Daddy. Emmy realized that she had already lost one parent, a mother she never even knew. That's the reason she clung onto her father. She was a good girl, never did anything wrong in his eyes because she was too scared to be rejected. To lose him too.
And in the end, she did.
Dean felt it was his job to fill that gap in her life. He already carried almost all the responsibilities when it came to his baby sister, but now he wanted to take full responsibility. He didn't want her to come short or miss something in her life. He'd take it upon himself to bring up his sister to a wonderful, beautiful and intelligent woman. He might need his brother's help with it, but Dean was willing to do whatever it took to give her the best life he could provide. The promise he made wasn't going to be a walk in the park, that much he realized. But Dean was never one to back down when life set up obstacles, he'll take them like the tough man he was.
Emmy moaned in her sleep, her eyebrows bunched together while she slowly turned her head from side to side. Dean cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing her eyebrow.
"Shh," he whispered, kneeling on the floor next to her bed. "It's okay sweetheart, it's okay," he soothed.
A whimper escaped between her lips, her small body writhing in bed, twisting the sheets in the process. Dean stroked her arm up and down, trying to calm her down but it didn't seem to work. He could see her eyes moving under her eyelids, her hands fisting the blanket. Dean moved close to her ear, whispering sweet nothings while he stroked her forehead, trying to smooth the lines. Out of nowhere her hand suddenly shot out, her nail catching him right above his eyebrow, barely missing his eyes. Dean winced and instantly grabbed her wrists in his hand. That didn't look like a good idea because she instantly starting kicking with her feet.
"No, no, no," she cried in her sleep. "D'ddy," she rasped.
"It's alright, baby. You're just dreaming."
But she only got worse as she started struggling against his hold, her skin clammy from the sweat and her voice raised. "Daddy no!" she wailed, tears rolling down her cheeks from her closed eyes.
Dean jumped into action and got in bed, pulling her into his lap. He cradled her like a baby, trapping her hands to stop her from hurting herself. Rocking her back and forth for ten minutes, while repeatedly kissing the top of her head, she slowly calmed down in his hold. Dean didn't stop rocking her and kept whispering into her ear.
"I got you, sweetheart. I'm right here. Not going anywhere," he repeated the words until she was limp in his arms. Dean watched her peaceful face as he wiped away the tears from her cheeks. God, how he had missed that pretty face. He wished he could kick himself where the sun didn't shine repeatedly for having abandoned her like that. He thought of his father's words and realized that he had dealt with it the wrong way. He took his anger out on her while he was mad at his dad. He pushed her away while he had to do the opposite. He just hoped she would forgive him one day.
Sam, having heard his sister's cries, stood quietly at the door, hidden in the darkness. He watched his older brother leaning against the headboard with the covers pulled over him and Emmy. Dean seemed to be content just watching their sleeping sister's face as he occasionally dropped a kiss on her face or stroked a strand of hair. Sam smiled sadly, happy the two found each other. Well it was more Dean who found Emmy, but Sam was sure that it would only be a matter of time before his sister would accept Dean with open arms. She needed her brother as much as Dean needed her. Sam threw his siblings one last look before he got to his own room, knowing that it would be the first night he'll get some much needed sleep.
Dean closed his eyes and tiredly dropped his forehead on Emmy's temple. He kissed her goodnight but not before whispering, "Happy birthday, cutie pie."
A/N: HIIIIIIIIIIIIIII! First of all, sorry for the long wait. Don't blame me, blame my job, my friends and the exotic southern French beaches for keeping me occupied.
So believe it or not, but this episode contains more than twenty thousand words, and I haven't even finished it yet. I had to split it since it was getting too long. As you may have noticed, this chapter is mostly AU. I felt like I couldn't go through this episode without first writing about Emmy's (and her brothers') thougts and feeling. I think it's very important to show you how they're dealing individually with their father's death. So that's mainly the reason why this chapter is so long. I don't like rushing into things if you haven't noticed yet :p
Anyway, tell me what you thought of this update. Do you guys have an idea what John might have said to Dean about Emmy? I'm planning on revealing a little more in the next chapter. But I have to be honest with you guys, I have dropped some hints in Be(lie)ve, more than one ;)
Also, lately I get a lot of questions from readers asking me if I have a tumblr or that I should make one. So I wanted to know from you beautiful people what your wishes are. I put a poll on my page, so if you want make sure you vote!
Thanks for all the lovely reviews and pm's and follows and favorites and reads :D