"Are you feeling okay to drive?" Sam asked Emma as they headed down Missouri Mosely's sidewalk to the waiting Impala.
"Sure. Why wouldn't I be?"
"Missouri slipped a sedative into your iced tea. You might want to be a little less trusting next time someone offers you a drink," Sam informed her. Even more reason, he thought, to get the kid out of the life. Hunters and their associates, people who knew about the supernatural, would never understand Emma. They'd always see her as a monster. A threat, and in return, they'd always be a threat to her.
He fell asleep easily as the car rolled down the highway. Waking a couple of hours later, Sam knew immediately that something was wrong. A lifetime spent criss-crossing the country had left him with a mental roadmap as detailed as any GPS. He blinked as they passed a highway sign.
"We're just outside of Denver," he spoke up, keeping his voice neutral. Emma had made a mistake, but no real harm done, Sam reasoned. If they headed south through Amarillo they'd make it home without losing too much time. He suppressed a chuckle, imagining his own father's reaction. John Winchester wouldn't have hesitated to express his annoyance at the delay...In no uncertain terms.
"Yeah, I figured we'd head north and meet up with interstate ninety," Emma explained.
Which was no explanation at all, Sam thought, baffled. "Emma? Where are we going?"
"The cabin," she said, glancing over at him with an expression just as confused as his own. "We're going to need Uncle Bobby's books, unless you already know a soul-bonding ritual off the top of your head."
Apparently there'd been a breakdown in communication somewhere along the way. Sam resisted the urge to sigh and waited for the next series of exit signs to appear. "Okay, pull off here. We can switch drivers… After you tell me what the hell you're talking about now."
"Say again?" Sam tipped his head back and took a long pull of beer. He had the feeling he was going to need it.
"Dad's in Purgatory," Emma repeated patiently. "Come on, Sam, it makes perfect sense. That's where the Levis came from in the first place. That's where monsters go when they die. And you heard Missouri. She said Dad was 'gone'. She never said dead. He got dragged into Purgatory when he killed Dick Roman. Castiel, too." Emma beamed at him. "We've just got to go in and get them out."
His pulse sped up as she spoke, his mind reeling. Looking at Dean's daughter's face, so full of confidence and joy, Sam wanted to believe. He quashed the thought. The last thing Emma needed was for him to jump on this bandwagon without thinking everything through first. He had to keep a clear head.
"And the soul-bonding? How does that factor in?"
"Well, obviously hunters don't get dragged into Purgatory every time they gank a monster. So unless you want to try and build another God-weapon…" Emma said, the sarcasm clear in her tone. She leaned back on the warm trunk of the Impala and took a swallow of her own drink, a small, locally bottled brand of root beer made with pure cane sugar. Sucrocorp had gone belly-up after Dick Roman's demise, but Sam was still wary of tainted corn syrup.
He sipped his beer, pondering the phrasing of his next question. Sam was used to being acknowledged as the brains of the operation. It was annoying to have his niece look at him as if he had some sort of intellectual impairment.
"So we soul-bond and I gank you," he said, keeping his tone casual with an effort, "and get hauled into Purgatory in your soul's slipstream, is that it?" Emma nodded. "Great plan, Emma, except for starters, your soul belongs to the Greek goddess Harmonia, remember? You're not going to monster heaven. Your final destination is... I don't know, probably the Elysian Fields."
"Nah," Emma drawled, with the same defiant nonchalance Dean used to display when refusing to acknowledge that a subject was a painful one. "I just told you guys that so you wouldn't freak out. I'm a monster." She shrugged. "No mythological Greek get out of jail free card for me."
"I'm not running, Amelia. I told you, I've just got some loose ends to tie up. It's complicated." Sitting on the dilapidated front porch of Rufus Turner's old cabin, Sam ran a hand through his hair in frustration. This was the kind of conversation that really needed to be face to face.
"Emma's fine. I think this time away is really going to be good for her," he forged ahead, hoping that that statement was even remotely true. "Yeah, I think this will help her find closure," he agreed. "Listen, Amelia? Thanks for taking care of Riot for me, and, you know," Sam paused awkwardly. "For everything," he concluded. "Yeah...You too...I'll call you soon." I hope, he added to himself as he hung up.
They'd researched soul-bonding, which seemed straightforward enough, and they'd found some evidence in lore about a portal out of Purgatory. That, too, seemed fairly straightforward, Sam thought. Purgatory was never meant for humans. After all, God had created the dimension in order to keep humanity safe.
But still, "It's a lot of ifs, Emma. If your soul really is destined for Purgatory. If we can find Dean once we get there. If we can find a way back out. If any of this was easy, you'd have to figure Dean would already be back."
Emma scoffed. "Purgatory's got to be a big place to hold forty million souls. And don't forget, Dad's got to fight his way through all those monsters to get to the portal. That's why he needs us to come help him."
Sam chuckled humorlessly. Emma's family loyalty was unwavering. She'd convinced him, he thought, but his stomach churned with nausea at the thought of what they would have to do.
"Hey, Uncle Sam?"
"Hmm?" He looked up from the worn scrap of parchment he'd been reviewing for what felt like the hundredth time, eyes narrowed in suspicion. Emma had never called him uncle before. And she'd better not plan on making a habit of it, either, he thought dryly. He wasn't about to share a name with America's goateed, top-hatted patriotic symbol.
"Can I get an anti-possession tattoo, like yours and Dad's?"
"I really don't think you getting possessed is going to be a problem where we're going, Em."
"I know, but it's our last day on earth," she wheedled.
"That's my point. There's no demons in Purgatory," Sam pointed out again.
"Yeah, but you just know Dad's never going to let me get a tattoo. I figure this is pretty much my only chance," Emma grinned.
"No way," Sam laughed. "Dean would kill me!"
Author's note: Wow, thanks for all the follows, favorites, and extra thanks with pie on top for the reviews. I really appreciate the support and encouragement!
By the way, if you're looking for another great family-centric story, check out nani'anela's fic Paint It Black, featuring Baby the Impala.
