Disclaimer: I only own my character, Mary-Elisabeth "Emmy" Winchester.
Driving down a two-lane, Dean sighed for the umpteenth time, earning an eye-roll from Sam who was riding shotgun.
"Come on, Sam, I'm begging you. This is stupid," Dean exclaimed in a hushed tone. His eyes wandered to the rearview where he could see Emmy scribbling something down in her book while she softly hummed to some song playing through her iPod.
Sam turned to face his brother. "Why?"
"Going to visit Mom's grave? She doesn't even have a grave," he said matter-of-factly. "There was no body left after the fire," he added with a strained voice.
"She has a headstone," Sam pointed out.
"Yeah, put up by her uncle, a man we've never even met," Dean scoffed. "So you wanna go pay your respects to a slab of granite put up by a stranger?"
"Dean, that's not the point." Sam rubbed at his forehead, annoyance ringing in his voice.
Dean slapped his hands on the wheel. "Well then, enlighten me, Sam."
Sam turned his gaze to the landscape flashing by. "It's not about a body, or, or, a casket. It's about her memory, okay?"
"Hmmm." Dean wasn't convinced.
"And after Dad it just... just feels like the right thing to do," Sam reasoned, before throwing a glance to his sister who was still oblivious to their conversation. "Besides, Emmy wants to. It can help her with the mourning process. It's good for her."
"It's irrational, is what it is." Dean was never in favor of visiting his mother's grave. He just didn't get the point of going to the cemetery, what do people even get out of that? To him it was just a place where hundreds of ghosts lurked, and everyone knew how much Dean despised ghosts.
"Look, man. No one asked you to come."
Dean wetted his lips. "Why don't we swing by the roadhouse instead? I mean, we haven't heard anything on the demon lately. We should be hunting that son of a bitch down."
Sam nodded. "That's a good idea, you should. Just drop us off, I'll hitch a ride, and we'll meet you there tomorrow."
"Right," Dean scoffed, not looking like he liked the idea. "Stuck with those people, making awkward small talk until you show up? No thanks."
"Are we there yet?" Emmy suddenly asked from the backseat.
Dean cleared his throat, exchanging a look with his brother before getting back to his sister. He could see in her eyes that for some reason visiting their mother's grave was something she really wanted to do. He didn't want to be the one pointing out that their mother wasn't really there, it was just dirt and the remains of someone else's bones. His mother was gone, literally.
"Almost, sweetheart," he answered instead.
"I made something for her, you wanna see it?" Emmy leaned over the front seat to show them the picture she drew of the only memory she had from her mother.
The brothers could make out a blonde woman sitting on a wooden rocking chair, cradling a little pink bundle in her arms.
Sam swallowed thickly. "It's beautiful, Emmy."
"Can we get it plastified so it won't get damaged?"
"Yeah, I'm sure there's some paper shop out there," Dean told her with a tight smile.
"Cool!" She leaned back against her seat, finishing up her drawing.
SPN
Sam knelt before his mother's headstone, reading the engraved words. Mary Winchester, 1954-1995, In Loving Memory. He couldn't remember the last time he visited her grave, but it still had the same effect on him like the first time. After all these years, it still hurt like a fresh wound that didn't want to heal.
With his pocket knife, he started digging into the ground so he could bury his father's dog tags. He didn't really know why he suddenly decided to do this but he felt like his father would've wanted their mother to have them.
"I love you, Mom," he whispered past the big lump in his throat as he covered the tags with dirt, until his fingers suddenly brushed against something else. He dug his hand deeper and scooped out a necklace made of dry pasta. He could still detect the traces of paint and glitter on it and the unmistaken letters forming the word M-O-M-M-Y. Before he could ask his siblings about it, someone else already beat him to the punch.
"Oh that's mine," Emmy said as she suddenly appeared next to him.
"You made this?" Sam asked.
"Uhu," she nodded as she put her picture on the headstone with the help of some transparent duct tape.
"Wait, you've been here before? I thought this was your first time?" Sam couldn't recall his sister ever visiting their mother's grave.
"With Daddy," she told him. "We made this necklace on school for mother's day and I was kinda sad cuz I had no one to give it to. So he brought me here and told me I could bury it in the ground, so it would be closer to Mom."
"I didn't know that," Sam said quietly. He didn't know what surprised him more, the fact that his father actually visited their mother's grave, or the fact that he took his own daughter to the cemetery. Sam remembered all those times he begged his father to take him to see his mother, but John never gave in, and neither did Dean. The only times Sam did go to his mother's grave was when he was old enough to drive and go of his own accord.
"Uhm, you were in Stanford," Emmy explained softly.
"Oh," Sam nodded slowly, understanding. He cleared his throat. "You want some time alone?"
Emmy looked around, noticing the graveyard was practically empty. Dean was crouched next to a tree, doing God knows what, and some old couple was standing in front of another gravestone.
"You think she'll hear me?"
"Of course she will." Sam gave her a side-hug, squeezing her against him. "I'm right over there if you need me, alright?" He kissed her temple before standing up and giving her some privacy.
Emmy absent-mindedly played with the necklace between her fingers. She was nervous and felt at a loss for words. She didn't know what to say or do. It was weird talking to a stone, it's almost like talking to yourself since there was no response or the guaranty that her mother was actually listening. Instead she focused on the picture she drew, staring at the mother holding her baby girl.
"H-hey mom," she whispered. "I uh, I just wanted to tell you that I, that I miss you." Emmy shifted, sitting cross legged on the grass. "I'm sorry if I haven't always thought of you these last couple months. I just had other stuff on my mind … like Dad." The ten year old's hand absently went to the silver butterfly resting between her collar bones. "Uhm, I don't know if he's in heaven, with you … but," she swallowed hard, "if he is, will you take care of him?" Tears started prickling her eyes, her lips quivered. "Tell him I still miss him and that I love him … a-and that Sammy and Dean are taking really good care of me." Emmy sniffed, wiping away her tears. "I wish you were both here but I know that's never gonna happen," she mumbled so softly it was almost inaudible.
Emmy sat there for several minutes in silence, just staring at the picture. Her tears had dried but her eyes still glistened. Loose strands of hair that escaped from her braid flew around her face but she didn't put effort into tucking them away. Her focus was on only one thing; blocking every sound and anything that could pull her attention away from being with her mother. Because that's what it felt like, she felt like she was alone with her mother. Being this close to Mary's grave, alone for the first time, it was heaven. Nothing needed to be said or done, just sitting in front of her headstone with the thought that her mother was watching her, it was more than Emmy could ever wish for.
SPN
Sam and Dean leaned against the Impala, both keeping an eye on their baby sister without intruding. They might have different opinions about visiting their mother's grave, but they did agree when it came to giving their sister some space and as much time as she needed. If Emmy wanted to just sit and stare at the headstone all day, then so be it.
Sam sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. Dean caught the action and instantly knew the meaning of it. After all, Sam was his brother and he knew everything when it came to his body language. Dean saw it as one of his many big brother duties. You couldn't take care of someone if you don't know them inside out.
"Just spit it out already," Dean huffed.
Sam tucked his hands back in his pockets. "It's just... stumbling onto a hunt? Here, of all places?"
Dean shrugged, never taking his eyes off Emmy. "So?"
"So," Sam turned to face him, "are you sure this is about a hunt, and not about something else?"
Dean raised a questioning eyebrow. "What else would it be about?"
Sam stared at his brother in disbelief. He didn't know how long he could bite his tongue especially when Dean kept taking him for a fool because Sam wasn't. He could see right through that thick skin and mask of his brother. Instead he let out a heavy sigh with a shake of his head, moving to get in the car. "You know, just forget about it."
"You believe what you want, Sam, but I let you drag my ass out here, the least we could do is check this out." Dean watched Emmy dust off her denim overall as she started for the Impala.
"Yeah. Fine," Sam grumbled, closing the door once he was seated.
"Hey cutie pie." Dean reached to smooth down her hair, tucking blonde strands behind her ears. "You okay?"
Emmy merely nodded, moving to get in the backseat when Dean blocked her by getting down to her level. He cupped her chin, lifting it high enough to make eye contact. Her eyes were red-rimmed and her long, thick eye lashes were wet. It was another reason why Dean was against this whole grave visiting. The last thing he wanted was his sister getting upset, nothing broke his heart more than seeing tears in her eyes. Sam would've argued and tell him that it did her good, that she got some things off her chest, but Dean wasn't sure if it was worth it.
"Dean, I'm fine," Emmy muttered, trying to turn away.
"You sure?" he pressed, his protective side surfacing.
"Yeah. Uh can we get some paint?"
Dean realized it was her way of changing the subject and he decided to drop the matter, only because he knew that she probably needed some time to process everything.
"What do you need paint for?" he asked, guiding her to the front.
Emmy didn't question why her brother suddenly wanted her to sit next to him, although she did have an idea. Sam, equally surprised, didn't say anything and scooted over. Emmy shot him a small smile before addressing Dean, showing him the necklace. "To touch up where the paint chipped off."
"Where'd you get this?" Dean questioned as he started up the car, glancing at the handmade accessory.
"I made it when I was six, for Mom." Not feeling like explaining everything again, she cut right to the chase, "So can you get me some paint?"
"I never say no to pretty girls," Dean winked at her.
Sam eyed him with a hint of disgust. "TMI, dude."
Dean ignored him, wrapping an arm around Emmy's shoulder. "He's just jealous cuz I got the cutest girl on my arm."
"Sorry Sammy," Emmy apologized sheepishly. Dean wiggled his eyebrows at his brother like he just won the first prize.
Sam couldn't help but snort at his sibling's antics. If that was Dean's way of bringing things to a good end, and steer away from what was really going on, he once again succeeded. Because that's what Dean does, he makes everything seem all right when in reality it wasn't.
SPN
Emmy spent the rest of her day repainting the necklace, this time using more gold and silver spray paint. Dean had let her buy different colors and beads to add. She even managed to write the letters of her mother's full name on each elbow-shaped macaroni. After she was done, she carefully hung the pasta on a string, hanging it in front of the window where it could dry.
Looking at her work, she felt like something was missing. Knowing what it was, she went to her duffel to look for the box where she kept the stuff she cherished. The box contained things like her mother's wedding band, her first golden bracelet with her name engraved on it, some old pictures she got from Jenny, and other small objects they managed to save from the fire, the rest of their belongings were all boxed up in a storage room.
Emmy blew out a huff in frustration when she couldn't find the small box. She moved to Sam's bag and after some digging she successfully found it. Emmy knew she had a golden necklace somewhere in there. It was one that used to have a little charm hanging on it but she lost it so she never bothered wearing the necklace after that. Instead of boxing up the bare chain, she could finally put it to use. The golden chain would look perfect with the glittery pasta and beads.
Emmy smiled, happy with the result. She couldn't wait to show it to her brothers. Sam and Dean were currently questioning Angela's father. From what Emmy understood, her brother Dean thought that the girl's grave was 'unholy' and according to him something was up. Sam wasn't totally convinced and Emmy wasn't sure either. Not that she had any experience or inside knowledge when it came to supernatural cases, but to her it kinda seemed weird and coincidental.
As she put the box back, her fingers brushed against something soft and furry. Emmy pulled out the item and closed her eyes briefly when she noticed the doe-eyed teddy bear. She willed herself to look at the stuffed animal, it was the least she could do. Her father didn't give the plush toy for her to keep hidden in her duffel bag. He would've wanted her to keep it close, take care of it. Emmy forced herself to keep the tears at bay. She was not going to cry. She needed to be able to hold the bear without constantly thinking of that day. One thing was for sure, whenever her eyes fell upon the fluffy animal, it instantly made her think of her father. Her mother was right, they did share the same hazel eyes.
"Hey Johnny," her lips twitching in a small smile as she caressed the soft fur. "Sorry I ignored you for so long. I didn't mean to." Emmy pressed her face against its neck, the familiar smell only was enough to bring her to tears but she managed to swallow down the lump. I am not gonna cry, she reminded herself.
"I promise not to push you away like that again," she whispered as she nuzzled it's black, button nose. Sitting on the carpet with Johnny tucked in her lap, leaning against her necklace, Emmy felt whole. She had something from both her parents with her, two things she swore to cherish forever.
SPN
It didn't take long for the Winchester brothers to get back to the motel. Dean decided to order something instead of going out for dinner. After they ate and cleaned everything up, it quickly started to get dark outside and it soon was past someone's bedtime.
"Emmy, go get ready for bed," Sam told her from where he was standing in the kitchenette. The little blonde didn't give any sign of hearing him as she was sucked into the world of Bikini Bottom. "Emmy," Sam tried again.
"Hmm?" she slightly tilted her head to the source of his voice but didn't acknowledge him as she giggled to something Patrick said.
Sam sighed, walking over to where she lay on her stomach on the carpeted floor, swinging her feet back and forth. He purposefully stood in front of the television, knowing it was the only way to get her attention. And he was right because she instantly scowled.
"Sammy, I can't see," she exclaimed, rolling over to where she had a better view.
Sam easily lifted her up from the floor, putting her on her feet. "Shower, teeth and PJ's. Let's go," he patted her butt.
"But it's a new episode," she sulked, never taking her eyes away from the screen as if she didn't want to miss a second. "I can shower in the morning."
"Alright but at least put your pajama's on." Sam sighed and decided to give in. He'd been there before, only his father wouldn't have backed down so easily. But he never said he'd raise her like their Dad, and since she was his and Dean's responsibility now, he wanted to do it right. And letting her be a kid sometimes was a part of it.
Sam moved to pick her pajama's from her bag, walking past his brother who was sitting at the table, reading through their father's journal. Dean looked deep in thought and concentrated, and Sam knew exactly what got him so frustrated.
"Dean, just let it go already," he said as he handed Emmy her change of clothes. She took it but didn't move to get dressed, still too focused on the cartoon. Sam rolled his eyes and perched himself on the bed behind her.
"I'm telling you, there's something going on here," Dean muttered. "We just haven't found it yet."
"Dean, so far you've got a patch of dead grass and nothing," Sam pointed out. Since Emmy wasn't jumping into action, he started unclasping her overall.
"Well, something turned that grave into unholy ground," Dean reasoned forcefully.
"There's no reason for it to be unholy ground," Sam reasoned as he helped Emmy out of her clothes which was difficult since she wasn't really cooperating, her attention still on the television. "Angela Mason was a nice girl who died in a car crash. That's not exactly vengeful spirit material. You heard her father."
Dean looked up from the journal. "Yeah, well, maybe Daddy doesn't know everything there is to know about his little angel, huh?"
Sam shook his head with a snort. "You know what? We never should have bothered that poor man. We shouldn't even be here anymore."
"So what, Sam? What, we just bail? Without even figuring out what's going on?" Dean demanded.
"I think I know what's going on here." Sam said quietly while he took off Emmy's t-shirt. "It's the only reason I went along with you this far."
Dean frowned. "What are you talking about?"
Sam didn't look at his brother as he briefly inspected the healing bruise on Emmy's ribs. "This is about Mom's grave."
Dean scoffed, watching his brother rub some cream on their sister's ribs. She didn't even wince which meant she really was into that show or it didn't hurt that much anymore. When Sam didn't say anything else, he responded with, "That's got nothing to do with it."
It was Sam's turn to scoff in disbelief. "You wouldn't step within a hundred yards of it." He wiped his hands on his thighs before turning towards his brother. "Look. Maybe you're imagining a hunt where there isn't one so you don't have to think about Mom. Or Dad."
Dean watched his brother, he didn't say anything but that wasn't needed because his face spoke volumes. There was a slight part of truth hidden behind Sam's words. Dean just didn't want to admit. And the fact that his brother figured it out, annoyed him even more than he let on.
Sam sighed, continuing to dress his sister. "You wanna take another swing? Go ahead, if it'll make you feel better."
Dean shook his head, his tongue licking his bottom lip. "I don't need this crap." His chair scraped against the floor as he stood up and grabbed his jacket and keys.
This seemed to have gotten Emmy's attention. "Where're you going?"
"I'm going to go get a drink," Dean answered with a strained voice.
"Dean," Sam started.
"Alone," Dean cut him off sharply before leaving.
Emmy slapped her brother on the chest. "What did you do?"
"Ouch," Sam's hand rubbed over his chest. "And I didn't do anything." Emmy cocked an eyebrow incredulously. "Okay I might've said something," he added in confession.
"What did you say?" she asked, giving him her full attention. Commercials were on so she could afford to listen to him now.
"I mentioned Mom and Dad." Sam reached to help her into her shorts when she took it from him.
"Hey, I'm not a baby, I can do it," she claimed, oblivious to how she even ended up half dressed to begin with. Sam wanted to point it out but decided to leave it. "And you know he's not ready for that, Sammy. Stop pushing him," she told him, getting back to the conversation.
"I'm not pushing, I'm helping," Sam defended.
"Well, obviously you're not," she pointed out. "Just do what I do."
"Oh, really?" Sam crossed his arms over his broad chest. "And what is that if I may ask?"
"I just don't talk about it." She lifted up her shoulders. "It's that simple."
"Honey, that's the thing. He needs to talk about it, he has to tell us what's going on in his head or else he'll keep acting like he – "
"Okay, shh," Emmy covered his mouth, her eyes glued to the screen. "SpongeBob is back on."
"You serious?" Sam's voice was muffled with her hand still covering his lips. "What is it with you and that show?" he mumbled more to himself.
SPN
Next morning, Dean yawned as he pulled up at the motel. He was exhausted after being up all night as he got to the bottom of the case. But it was worth it because Dean could finally say he could rest his case since it turned out that he was right. There was something going on and he couldn't wait to rub it in his brother's face. He just knew it, he could feel it in his guts and he never went against that.
As he got out of the car he spotted a familiar blonde head near the bushes. Dean walked over to the small playground, his heavy footsteps muted by the grass.
"Watcha doing?"
Emmy screamed, jumping out of her skin and almost tumbling over from her crouched position. Luckily Dean caught her, pulling her up.
"Dean! Don't do that!" she narrowed her eyes at him, shooting him the meanest glare she could muster. "I could have fallen straight into these nettles and seriously hurt myself! Do you know how much they sting? Or how about these roses with their sharp thorns! You want me to gets cuts all over?" she ranted, lecturing him.
But all Dean could think about as he watched her get angrier was, she's friggin' adorable. He couldn't help but cup her round face and kiss her flaming red cheeks … repeatedly.
"Ugh, stop it," Emmy grumbled, trying to shove his face away. "Dean, get off of me!"
Dean laughed, finally releasing her. Emmy huffed, rubbing at her cheeks to wipe off his kisses but she only ended up making her cheeks redder. Dean's lips twitched but one look from her and he instantly tried to hold back a smile.
"Sweetheart, it's not like my kisses are contagious."
"Yes they are," she protested. "Who knows where your lips have been last night."
"For your information, I didn't pick up any girls." Dean reached out to adjust her shirt since it had ridden up from her struggle.
"Then where were you all night? I know you didn't sleep at the motel, your side of the bed was cold," Emmy said as she picked up the flowers she had dropped.
"Yeah, I'm sorry about that, sweetheart. Did you have any nightmares?" Dean noticed that she was doing better when it came to sleeping. She actually slept through the night without waking up from those terrible nightmares. Sometimes she would stir or mumble in her sleep but he only needed to whisper soothing words in her ear to lull her back to sleep.
"No, I had Johnny to keep me company."
Dean was confused. "Who the hell his Johnny?"
"My teddy bear, the one Dad got me for my birthday," she explained.
"Oh," he breathed in realization. "I guess that's a good thing huh."
"Hmm, he even smells like Daddy," she half smiled.
Dean cleared his throat. "Hey Emmy can I ask you something."
"Sure," she nodded as she plucked some other flowers.
"You don't have to answer this if you don't want to – but what did Dad tell you when he gave you the bear?" he asked carefully as to not push her or anything.
Emmy was a little taken off guard by the question. "Uh … I don't remember all of it." That was a lie, she knew every single word by heart, she just didn't know what to tell her brother. "I know he was saying weird stuff."
"Weird?" Dean repeated.
"Yeah, stuff that didn't make any sense. Like how he kept repeating I belonged to him."
Dean frowned. "What did he mean by that?"
"Beats me," she shrugged. "He just kept saying that I was his and that no matter what nothing would change that. He also drilled into my head that some people would try to tell me otherwise but that I shouldn't listen to them. You think he was talking about Azazel? Oh and there was also this thing he wanted me to remember. Something about how I might not have his smile or eyes but that I had his heart from the first moment he saw me. It was weird, especially when he kept repeating how he wanted me to promise to never forget." When Dean didn't say anything, only staring ahead, Emmy snapped her fingers in front of his face. "Dean?"
"Huh," he blinked.
"Why did you wanna know?" she asked.
Dean's mouth suddenly felt dry. Hearing his father's words through his sister, it suddenly dawned on him. Every little dot was connected and he knew he couldn't deny it anymore. He could still hear John whisper into his ear, his lasts words were loud and clear, and whatever doubts Dean had, it was obvious now.
"Dean!"
"What?" Dean's head snapped up to watch his sister giving him a worried look.
"You okay?" she voiced her concern.
"Yeah." Dean saw her opening her mouth, ready to say something else but he really wasn't in the mood to talk about it. "So what's up with the flowers?"
Emmy wasn't stupid to see that he was avoiding whatever was on his mind. But like she told Sam, she didn't push him, instead she let it go. If he didn't want to talk about it, fine. She couldn't keep reaching out to him, he was going to come out with it when he was ready.
"These are for Mom's grave," she answered, picking some more roses to add some color to the homemade bouquet.
"For Mom?"
"And for Dad," she added. Dean was momentarily speechless, his lips mouthing a silent oh. Emmy noticed and continued to explain. "Well, since Mom and Dad are … you know," she swallowed hard, "I figured they'd be both in heaven or in the sky or above, or whatever it's called. Anyway, I remember when pastor Jim told me that when people are … you know," she took bit her lip, "they all look down at us and wait for us to join them. So now our parents are finally together again and looking out for us from up there."
Dean doubted his father went to heaven after all the things he did. But who knows, maybe all the lives he saved gave him a pass. But that wasn't what really bothered him. The way Emmy explained it to him, it sounded like a fairytale. It was too beautiful to be true. Hell, he wished he could die if it would be as good as she described it. But looking at her young face, innocence radiating from her blue eyes that were so identical to his mother's, Dean didn't have the heart to crush hers. Everyone had some comforting lies to protect themselves. If this was his sister's way to cope with the loss of their parents by imagining they were in a better place, then who was he to say anything to that. At least it offered her some closure, it helped her deal, unlike him.
"That's – that's really good, sweetheart," he offered her a smile, squeezing her hand.
Emmy's eyes twinkled and Dean was remembered how much the visit to their mother's grave really helped her.
Emmy grabbed Dean's hand, pulling him back towards their motel room. "Wanna see the necklace I made for Mom. The paint is dry now and I put the pasta in a new, golden chain."
When they entered the room, Sam quickly turned off the television and tossed down the remote. Dean noticed but Emmy was too busy with her necklace.
"Hey." Sam watched Dean entering slowly as he glanced between him and the now black screen. "What?"
"Awkward." Dean moved to take off his jacket, draping it over one of the chairs.
"Look, Dean." Emmy jumped in front of him, proudly showing off her necklace. "You like it?"
"Like it? I love it." He fingered the dried pasta, looking impressed. "And I'm sure she would love it, too."
Emmy beamed, giggling when he wiped the glitter on his thumb off on her nose.
"Where in the hell were you?" Sam demanded, standing up.
"Working my imaginary case," Dean answered sarcastically.
"Yeah? And?" Sam pressed on.
Dean turned his back on his brother. "Well, you were right, I didn't find much." Sam nodded sympathetically. "Yeah. Except Angela's boyfriend died last night." Dean faced his brother, taking in his brother's surprised expression. "Slit his own throat. But, you know, that's normal. Uh, let's see, what else. Oh, he was seeing Angela everywhere before he died. But you know, I'm sure that's just me transferring my own feelings."
Sam let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through his hair. "Okay, I get it. I'm sorry, maybe there is something going on here."
"Maybe?" Dean repeated, his voice raising. "Sam, I know how to do my job, despite what you might think."
"We should check out the guy's apartment," Sam suggested.
"I just came from there." Dean moved to the sink where Emmy struggled wrapping a ribbon around the flowers. "Pile of dead plants, just like the cemetery. Hell, dead goldfish too."
"So, unholy ground?"
"Maybe," Dean answered, handing over the bouquet to his sister. "I'm still not getting that powerful angry spirit vibe from Angela."
"Thank you," Emmy smiled, earning a wink from Dean.
He crossed the room and picked up a pink book. "I have been reading this, though."
Sam's eyebrows shot up. "You stole the girl's diary?"
Emmy gasped like her brother just committed a crime. "No, you didn't."
"Yes, I did," Dean retorted. "And if anything the girl's a little too nice."
Sam lifted up his hands. "So what do you want to do?"
Dean flicked through the pages of Angela's diary. "Keep digging, talk to more of her friends."
"You get any names?" Sam asked.
"Are you kidding me?" Dean snorted. "I have her bestest friend in the whole wide world." He held up the girly book.
"Remind me if I ever decide to buy a diary, to get one with a lock," Emmy commented.
Sam chuckled. "You're talking to two professional lock pickers. When has a lock ever stopped us before?"
Emmy's eyes narrowed. "You wouldn't dare."
Sam laughed.
SPN
Emmy waited patiently in the Impala, watching her brothers talk to one of Angela's close friends, Neil. Emmy could see from the guy's face that he was suspicious of Sam and Dean who posed as 'grief counselors'. It wouldn't be long before Neil would realize and blow their cover. He said something, eying her brothers weirdly before closing the door.
Sam and Dean exchanged a look before walking away from the house. They started talking but Emmy couldn't make out what they were saying until they got in the car.
"Well, there's one way to be sure," Dean said.
"Yeah? What's that?" Sam questioned.
"Burn the bones."
Emmy scooted closer to the front. "Are you talking about Angela? Didn't she just die last week?"
Dean shrugged. "So?"
Sam scoffed. "So, there's not gonna be bones. There's gonna be a ripe, rotting body in the coffin."
"Since when are you afraid to get dirty? Huh?" Dean challenged, starting up the car.
"Ooh, can I come with you guys?" Emmy asked excitedly.
Dean was about to tell her no but then he remembered how he'd rather have her close with him. "Why not, it's just a salt and burn."
"Can I start the fire?"
"No," Sam and Dean declined in unison.
"You can help us dig," Sam offered, knowing she wouldn't take the offer.
"Ew, no. I'll just watch you guys do the hard work." She patted their shoulders. "That's what brothers are for."
SPN
And Emmy held her word, because watching was the only thing she did. Sam and Dean were digging at Angela's gravesite, panting and sweating. It took almost an hour before they finally reached the coffin.
Dean cleared the rest of the dirt off before turning to Sam. "Ladies first."
Emmy giggled.
Sam rolled his eyes and handed his flashlight to his sister. "Hold that."
He grunted as he pulled at the lid of the coffin. Emmy bit her lip, bracing herself for whatever she was about to see. Do people already rot after a week? What if Angela was covered in worms and other insects. And what about the smell? Emmy clearly didn't think this through, she'd prefer if it were just bones.
Sam finally managed to open the coffin and whatever it was that he expected, an empty coffin wasn't it.
With growing eyes, Emmy took a sharp intake of breath. "She's a zombie!"
The brothers still stared at the empty coffin, trying to make sense of it.
"They buried the body four days ago," Dean sounded utterly confused.
"That's long enough for her to turn into a zombie," Emmy commented casually.
"I don't get it," Sam shook his head.
"I'm telling you, she's a zombie," she repeated.
In the light of the flashlight, Sam suddenly noticed something carved into the inside of the coffin. "Look."
Dean got closer. "What is that?"
"Maybe it's written in zombie," Emmy suggested.
Sam fingered the carving. "I'm not sure."
Emmy suddenly realized something. "Uh, do zombies even have their own language? Or do they just talk like us? No, wait, do they even talk? I thought they just moaned and roared and squelched or maybe that's because they're missing a few teeth and their tongue so they have trouble pronouncing their words so that's why we – "
"Honey," Sam interrupted, giving her the sign of zipping up his lips and throwing away the key. Emmy got the message and clamped her lips shut.
Still racking his brain, Dean suddenly spoke up, "Hold on, I've seen these kinda symbols before."
SPN
Dean didn't wait long to confront Angela's father, he decided to go there first thing in the morning.
Emmy stood next to Sam, looking around Dr. Mason's office. It reminded her a bit of Bobby's study; the walls were hidden by bookcases and the wooden desk was covered by multiple sheets of paper and files.
"You teach Ancient Greek," Dean started, standing in front of the man. "Tell me what are these?"
Dr. Mason accepted the paper on which Dean had copied the weird symbols from his daughter's coffin. "I don't understand. You said this had something to do with Angela." The greying man looked confused, looking between the brothers.
"It does. Please, just humor me," Dean quipped, earning a warning look from Sam.
The doctor stared back at the piece of paper, investigating it. "They're part of an ancient Greek divination ritual."
"Used for necromancy, right?" Dean added. He had already done his research before he came here.
The man looked surprised. "That's right."
Dean took a step forward. "See, before we came over here we stopped by the library and did a little homework ourselves. Apparently they used rituals like this one for communicating with the dead. Even bringing corpses back to life. Full-on zombie action."
"Yes. I mean, according to the legends," he nodded before shooting a questioning glance at Sam. "Now, what's all this about?"
Sam opened his mouth, but didn't really know what to say. He was still having doubts about this and he didn't want to do the wrong thing. For all he knew, they could've been barking up the wrong tree.
"I think you know," Dean sneered.
"Dean," Sam warned.
"Look, I get it. Okay? There are people that I would give anything to see again. But what gives you the right?" Dean pointed an accusing finger at the man who was still oblivious.
"Dean!" Sam yelled, that was out of the line.
Dr. Mason looked at them with pure perplexity. "What are you talking about?"
"What's dead should stay dead!" Dean growled, working himself up.
"What?!" the man sputtered.
Sam grabbed his brother, pulling him back. "Stop it!" he ordered through gritted teeth.
Dean shrugged his brother's hands off him. "What you brought back isn't even your daughter anymore. These things are vicious, they're violent, they're so nasty they rot the ground around them. I mean, come on, haven't you seen Pet Cemetery?"
Dr. Mason shook his head, looking at him like he was crazy. "You're insane."
"Where is she?" Dean demanded.
"Get out of my house," the man spat. Walking over to his desk, starting to dial the phone.
Dean knocked it out of his hand, and Emmy flinched when it clattered against the floor. She couldn't believe her brother. He was never the aggressive type of guy, especially not with innocent people because to her it seemed obvious that Angela's father had nothing to do with this. But if she could see that, how come her brother, who was a friggin' hunter, couldn't see it? There had to be another reason that set him off like this.
"I know you're hiding her somewhere. Where is she?!" Dean bellowed causing Emmy to flinch again.
She was sure that if her brother didn't take it down a notch, he was bound to attract some unwanted attention. She looked through the window, hoping that no one was passing by when something suddenly caught her eye. There were some plants by the window that were nowhere near wilted. They stood high and looked healthy.
"Dean!" Sam went to grab his brother, shaking him a little. "Stop, that's enough!"
"Dean, look," Emmy pointed to the row of plants. "Beautiful, living plants."
Dean let out a long breath, visibly calming down but that didn't stop Dr. Mason from calling the police.
"We're leaving. Sir, we're sorry. We won't bother you again." Sam practically pushed Dean forward and out the door. "Emmy let's go," he called out, reaching out for her hand.
Emmy had to pick up her pace to keep up with their long legs. She grabbed her brother's hand and let him pull her along.
Dean strode down the steps and along the sidewalk. He adjusted his jacket, storming away from the house.
"What the hell is the matter with you, Dean?" Sam wanted to know.
"Back off," he snapped.
Sam walked faster, causing Emmy to almost run. "That man is innocent! He didn't deserve that!"
Dean didn't slow down. "Okay, so she's not here, maybe he's keeping her somewhere else."
"Stop it!" Sam shouted. "That's enough, okay? Enough!"
"Sam, I know what I'm doing," Dean shot back.
"No, you don't. At all." Sam got in front of him to put him to a stop. "Dean, I don't scare easy, but man, you're scaring the crap out of me and Emmy."
"Don't be overdramatic, Sam." But Dean took the opportunity to shoot a glance at Emmy. She was looking up at him, concern and millions of questions flashing through her eyes. She was hugging Sam's arm against her chest and he even noticed how she slightly hid behind their brother, as if he would jump her any second.
"You're lucky this turned out to be a real case," Sam got back his attention. "Because if it wasn't you would have just found something else to kill."
Dean's lips parted. "Wha-"
"You're on edge, you're erratic," Sam cut him off, "except for when you're hunting, because then you're downright scary. You're tailspinning, man. And you refuse to talk about it and you won't let us help you."
Dean's jaw tensed as he looked around in disinterest. "I can take care of myself, thanks."
"No, you can't," Sam pressed on. "And you know what? You're the only one who thinks you should have to. You don't have to handle this on your own, Dean, no one can."
Dean let out a heavy sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Sam, if you bring up Dad's death one more time I swear..."
"Stop," Sam sounded tired. "Please, Dean, it's killing you. Please. We've already lost Dad. We've lost Mom. I've lost Jessica. And now we're going to lose you too?"
Dean looked away but he could feel his siblings' eyes on him. He caught a glimpse of Emmy's young face, etched with worry and apprehension. He didn't want to bother or unsettle her more than she already was. She was doing good, great even, he really underestimated her. She was so much stronger than he thought she was and Dean didn't want to be the one to make it harder on her.
"We better get out of here before the cops come," he cleared his throat. He noticed Sam frowning and breathed out, "I hear you. Okay? Yeah, I'm being an ass. And I'm sorry. But right now we've got a friggin' zombie running around, and we need to figure out how to kill it."
"Told you it was a zombie," Emmy mumbled under her breath causing her brothers to ruffle her hair. "Hey!"
SPN
Emmy was on the bed behind Sam, trying to read their father's journal over his broad shoulders, which was easier said than done. She got on her knees, leaning closer when Sam suddenly turned around, hiding the journal against his chest.
"What are you doing?"
"Nothing," she smiled innocently. "I was just playing with you hair." To prove it, she started running her fingers through his bangs.
Sam studied her suspiciously for several seconds before getting back to reading. "No braiding," he warned.
"Okidoki," she chuckled as she thought of all those times he had let her play hairdresser. It was one of the perks of having a brother with long hair and being a sister with puppy eyes and a pout he couldn't say no to.
Dean paced back and forth, chewing on a thumb nail. "We can't just waste it with a head shot?"
Sam snorted. "Dude. You've been watching way too many Romero flicks."
"What about pepper?" Emmy chimed in.
"Pepper?" Sam repeated, taking his eyes off the journal to give her a weird look.
"Yeah," she nodded, "I mean that's what they used in the movie."
"What movie?" Dean wanted to know.
Emmy rolled her eyes. "Sooby-Doo on Zombie Island, duh."
"Okay first of all, those weren't zombies," Dean interjected. "They were just pirates cursed by the Cat God who turned them into werecats permanently, so the Gods could drain their life forces to preserve their immortality … duh," he added mockingly.
Sam's eyes switched from his brother to his sister. He didn't know what was more absurd, the fact that Emmy stated pepper was a weapon against zombies, or the fact that Dean saw Scooby-Doo on Zombie Island.
"You guys are definitely related," he muttered, before getting back to reading the journal.
Emmy stuck her tongue out at Dean, who pulled a silly face at her in return.
"So, you're telling me there's no lore on how to smoke 'em," Dean said as he took a seat at the table.
"No, Dean, I'm telling you there's too much. I mean, there's a hundred different legends on the walking dead, but they all have different methods for killing them."
Sam felt Emmy's breath on his neck and he abruptly turned around, his nose brushing against hers. It took her off guard which caused her to almost fall back. When she realized he caught her reading the journal, she explained sheepishly, "I just wanted to check if we could really rule out pepper."
Sam shook his head and moved to join his brother at the table. "Some say, setting them on fire, uh, one said, where is it?" He flicked through the pages, "Right here. Feeding their hearts to wild dogs. That's my personal favorite. I mean, who knows what's real and what's myth?"
"Is there anything they all have in common?" Dean asked.
"No," Sam sighed, "But a few said silver might work."
"Silver's a start," Dean said while Emmy walked over to the table. He wordlessly opened his arms, inviting her to his lap.
"Yeah. But now how are we going to find Angela?" Sam wondered.
"We've got to figure out the person who brought her back," Dean brought to mind, absently running his hand through Emmy's blond locks.
Sam leaned against his chair, tapping his fingers against the surface of the table. "Any ideas?"
Dean chewed on his bottom lip thoughtfully. "I think if it's not her dad it might be that guy Neil."
"Neil?" Sam raised his eyebrows. "How'd you come up with that?"
Dean patted Emmy's thigh, "Sweetheart, go get Angela's diary in my bag."
Emmy crossed the room to get the pink book before handing it over to Dean who pulled her back in his lap. "Well, you've got your journal, I've got mine." He rested his chin on Emmy's shoulder so he could read a part from the diary. "Neil's a real shoulder to cry on, he so understands what I'm going through with Matt," he read with an exaggerated, emotional voice, causing Emmy to giggle. "There's more in here where that came from. It's got Unrequited Ducky Love written all over it."
"Yeah," Sam snorted, "but that doesn't mean he brought her back from the dead."
"Hmm." Dean closed the book, fixing his brother with a pointed look. "Did I mention he's Professor Mason's TA? Has access to all the same books." From the looks of it, that brought his brother around.
Emmy turned in Dean's lap. "Can I come with you," she asked excitedly.
"Absolutely no!" When Dean saw her sweet face fall in disappointment, he added, "You can stay in the Impala."
"But I wanna see the zombie," she pleaded, wrapping her arms around his neck and sticking out her bottom lip.
Dean used his finger to push her lip back in. "That's definitely a no."
SPN
Emmy toyed with the radio player of the Impala, which was parked in front of Neil's house. Sam and Dean were inside scoping out the place, in the hope of finding Angela. Out of all the hunts, Emmy thought this one was definitely the coolest. Forget about ghosts, wendigo's, vampires and shapeshifters, zombies are by far the most exciting creatures ever. Don't get her wrong, it's not like she wanted to come across a zombie - who does? – it's just that the thought of a living dead person was thrilling.
Emmy thought of the person that brought Angela back to life. A part of her didn't understand why someone would do something like that. It was disgusting, unnatural and just not human at all. But then again, another part did sympathize with the person's desperation of wanting someone back. She was in that irrational state of mind once. After her father died, she remembered wanting him so bad, she was capable of going to great lengths. She was just lucky she had two brothers and a surrogate uncle that loved her to no end, which prevented her from making stupid choices. But Emmy understood that some people might not have that kind of company surrounding them, and that could lead to mistakes, like bringing someone back from the death.
A movement outside snapped her out of her train of thoughts. Her brothers walked down the steps in the direction of the car. Emmy looked around them, frowning when she didn't see anyone else. Where's Angela? she thought as she got out of the car and walking towards her brothers.
"Where's the zombie?" she asked, looking behind them.
Instead of answering her question, Dean simply picked her up under his arm like a ragdoll. "What was the condition, Emmy?"
"Stay in the car," she had to refrain from rolling her eyes. "But it's just you guys," she mentioned.
"We said 'under no circumstances'," Sam reminded her, opening the door. Dean put her down and gently pushed her in the car.
"Under no circumstances," Emmy mocked under her breath as she crawled to the middle of the front seat.
"Hey," Sam lightly swatted her butt, "I heard that."
"So you still didn't answer my question," she prodded quite impatiently. "Where's the zombie?"
"Well you were right about the pepper thing. One sniff and it instantly died for good this time," Sam told her with a serious expression.
Emmy's eyes widened in awe. "Really?"
"What?" Sam couldn't help but chuckle. "No, of course not."
Emmy looked unamused. "You suck, Sammy."
The car jostled a little when Dean got in the driver's seat, thinking of where to go next. "Okay, so she, uh, she clipped Matt because he was cheating, right?" He asked to no one in particular as if he was just thinking out loud.
"Yeah," Sam confirmed.
Dean casted his brother a look. "Well, it takes two to, you know," he trailed, his gaze on Emmy who was listening intently. Dean covered her ears, "have hardcore sex," he whispered.
Sam shakes his head at him. "I don't know, it just seemed that Angela's roommate was broken up over Matt's death. I mean, like, really broken up."
Dean slowly nodded in realization. How could he have missed this?
Emmy pulled his hands away and asked, "Where are we going?"
"Angela's," Dean answered.
"Is she gonna be there? Are we finally gonna see the zombie? I wonder on what places her rotting flesh is already peeling off, or what color her eyes are, or if she – "
"You're way too excited about this," Sam interrupted her rant. "What if she attacks you, what are you gonna do?"
"Uh …," Emmy obviously didn't expect the question. "I don't know, run or something."
"What if she catches you?" Dean asked next.
"She won't, I'm way faster than her," she answered with confidence. "Besides, running is not easy with a rotting, dismembered corpse."
"The chances of having that luck on your side is small," Sam told her.
"Well, I would fight back or something but you guys won't teach me," she accused, crossing her arms.
Sam released a deep breath, "Honey, we've talked about this."
"You did?" Dean questioned, feeling left out on something. "Without me?"
"It's nothing," Sam calmed him down. "She just asked me if we could teach her some fighting moves."
"And you said?" Dean pressed.
"I didn't say anything," Sam defended himself, knowing all too well how his brother was against it. "I said I'd think about it."
"But you never said no," Emmy pointed out.
Dean briefly took his eyes from the road to look down at his baby sister. "Why?"
"To defend myself," she responded. "You're not always gonna be around."
Dean's lips thinned. "Dammit Emmy, how many times do I have to tell you. Stop saying that, stop thinking we'll leave you, abandon you, cuz' it's not gonna happen. Ever."
"But what if you are the one in trouble or danger? Who's gonna help you out then?"
Dean chuckled without humor. "Not gonna happen either. We protect you, not the other way around."
"But, but – "
"No but's," he cut her off. "You won't need to know how to fight if we're never gonna let you anywhere near a monster, and even if it does happen, that's where Sam and I come in. It's what brothers are for, sweetheart."
Emmy, feeling defeated and frustrated at the same time, looked up at Sam. She used her pleading eyes, begging him to change their brother's mind. But the only thing Sam did was give her a small shrug, the one that said don't look at me, there's nothing I can do about this.
With lowered eyebrows and pursed lips, the little blonde tucked her knees against her chest. "You guys suck. I hope you both step on a lego … barefoot."
Sam turned to face the window, pressing his lips shut, his shoulders shaking with silent laughter.
"Yeah, love you too," Dean smirked.
SPN
Arriving at Angela's house – Emmy, still pouting for being locked in the Impala, jumped in her seat when she heard a gunshot. She plastered herself against the window, hoping to catch something. Apparently her brothers thought Lindsey, Angela's cousin who cheated on her boyfriend, would be at Angela's. And it looked like they were right, because next thing Emmy heard was a female screaming and another woman jumping out of the window. Emmy's eyes followed the pale girl dressed in a long, white dress.
"No way," she whispered in shock, finding herself hiding behind the door with only her eyes peeking out.
Was this Angela? Zombie-Angela? This was not what Emmy had expected. In her mind, a zombie was supposed to be mangled with missing limbs, covered in blood and filth, staggering with their intestines dragged in the dirt. Instead she saw a healthy-looking girl, except for the color missing in her face, who didn't only seem 'normal' but could run pretty fast too.
"Guess running away isn't an option anymore," Emmy mumbled to herself.
SPN
Back on the road, Dean's knuckles whitened around the steering wheel. This case was getting to him; people messing with death, bringing things back to life that shouldn't be living, playing with the natural order of things and just the whole zombie-chase in general. If he didn't get to shoot something real soon, he sure was about to lose his cool.
"So the silver bullets, they did something, right?" Sam spoke up from beside him, reading the journal.
Dean loosened his grip a little, trying to relax. "Yeah, something, but not enough. What else you got?"
"Um, okay, besides silver, we have ... nailing the undead back into their gravebeds."
Emmy pulled a face. "Yikes." She then covered her mouth as she yawned.
Sam turned some pages. "It's mentioned a few times. It's probably where the whole vampire staking lore came from."
"Their gravebeds?" Dean shot his brother a look over his sister's head. "You serious?"
"Yeah." Sam nudged Emmy. "Go get some sleep, honey. I know you're tired."
"No, I'm not," she denied stubbornly, stifling another yawn.
"Yes you are." Sam wrapped an arm around her, securing her against his chest. If she didn't want to go to sleep, he'll make her go to sleep. She only needed someone to rub her back and stroke her hair, maybe even rock her a little, and she would be out in no time. It was a method that helped when she was a baby, and she seemed to never have grown out of it.
"How the hell are we going to get Angela back to the cemetery?" Dean questioned.
Sam only had to give him one look and Dean already caught on. Neil.
SPN
Emmy woke up with a sudden start. Her surroundings were dark and quiet, too quiet. She felt a soft breeze tickle her hair and looked up to find the window of the Impala slightly open. She realized she had fallen asleep, and her brothers must've tucked her in the back seat … which meant that they were out chasing the zombie and she was missing out on all the fun.
Throwing the blanket away, Emmy scrambled to the front seat where her shoes and jacket were. Putting her hair in a quick messy bun, she moved to open the door of the front seat, finding it unlocked.
"Oh, Dean," she sighed. "You really need to learn locking up baby."
Looking around, she instantly recognized the graveyard where her mother was buried and Angela. Emmy hesitated for a second, knowing that her brothers wouldn't want her to leave the car. But then again, they never said she had to stay. Well they did, the first two times but not this time. Okay maybe this was a farfetched excuse, but at least she had one in case her brothers caught her. Emmy only wanted to see the zombie again, she wasn't planning on attracting any unwanted attention, not from Angela and definitely not from her brothers.
She carefully and silently walked on her tiptoes, gliding through the dark, using the trees to hide behind. It wasn't hard to find Angela's grave since her brothers lit it up with multiple candles.
"You really think this is going to work?" she heard Sam ask.
"No, not really. But it was the only thing I could come up with," Dean answered.
Emmy shifted a little to move closer when she accidently stepped on some leaves. She froze, holding still, when her brothers looked up. She almost thought it was her they heard until Sam pulled a gun from the small of his back, stalking in the opposite direction. Emmy let out a breath in relief.
Dean was still busy with the candles and ritual while Sam followed the sound he must've heard. Emmy chewed on her bottom lip, looking around for any movement when she suddenly caught something white emerging from another tree.
"Angela," she whispered.
Sam had his back turned and Dean didn't notice her presence either. Emmy impatiently waited for her brothers to turn around, nervously biting the skin around her finger nails. Come on Sammy and Dean! she thought with urgency. She knew that if she made a sound, it would alert her brothers and Angela, something she was trying her best to avoid. Also her brothers would blow a gasket if they found out about her hiding.
But when Angela advanced towards Sam, she couldn't keep it in anymore, and yelled, "SAMMY!"
Sam, startled, turned around coming face to face with Angela. He didn't waist a second and instantly pointed his gun at her. Angela stopped short, putting her hands up.
"Wait! It's not what you think," she explained with a quivering voice. "I didn't ask to be brought back. But it's still me. I'm still a person," she practically begged, using her pleading eyes. "Please."
Emmy's eyes grew as she watched her brother's next move. She would be lying if she said she didn't feel any sympathy for the dead girl. She was right, she didn't ask to be brought back, but that didn't take away the fact she murdered two people.
A towering form blocked her vision and Emmy didn't need to guess who it was when she felt a firm hand on her shoulder.
"You, get back in the car. Right now," Dean ordered through gritted teeth.
"But, I wanna see –" she started to protest when Dean shut her up with only one look. It was these moments that she was reminded how much her brother looked like their father.
"I don't wanna hear it, Emmy. I told you to stay in the car, I told you it wasn't safe, yet you – " Dean didn't get to finish his sentence when the sound of a firing gun suddenly cut him off.
Emmy jumped, clinging onto her brother's waist, fisting his flannel shirt under his leather jacket. From where she stood, she could perfectly see the whole of the bullet through Angela's forehead. Yet, she didn't seem fazed at all and managed to tackle Sam.
"Sonuvabitch," Dean cursed. He unwrapped Emmy's arms and pulled her to a tree, sitting her down. "Stay right here," he told her firmly. Emmy absently nodded, still trying to see the fight between Sam and Angela. "Hey!" Dean cupped her chin, forcing her to look at him. "Don't move."
"Y-yeah," she said shakily.
Dean grabbed his own gun and ran over to Angela, firing it at her. She got up from straddling Sam, her eyes shooting daggers at Dean who shot her several more times until she staggered backwards. Dean waited until she fell straight back into her open grave, landing in the open coffin, before he grabbed a long metal stake. He ran to the grave, sliding the last length on his knees and dove into the coffin, burying the stake in her chest.
Pinned down, Angela struggled. "Wait, don't!"
Dean drove it further in, causing her to gasp one last time before she went limp.
"What's dead should stay dead," Dean panted.
SPN
The next morning, Emmy carefully buried the necklace next to her mother's grave, and patted down the dirt. "I hope you'll like this one, Mom, I put a lot of work into it. Sammy and Dean said it looks pretty, just like you," she smiled. "I'm sure Daddy would've love it, too," she added sadly. "Will you tell him that next time I'll make something for him? I don't want him to feel left out."
Casting a look behind her, where her brothers were fixing Angela's grave, Emmy decided to finish up. She put the bouquet of flowers in front of the headstone, right next to the picture she drew. She kissed her fingers before pressing her hand on the granite with a small smile. "I love you, Mom. I love you, Daddy."
She stood up and started for the Impala where Sam and Dean were waiting.
"You know, that whole fake ritual thing, luring Angela into the cemetery? Pretty sharp," Sam said, impressed.
"Thanks," Dean nodded as he put their shovels in the trunk.
"But did we have to use me as bait?" Sam couldn't help but ask.
"I figured you were more her type. You know, she had pretty crappy taste in guys," Dean smirked.
Sam cradled his hand, "I think she broke my hand."
"You're just too fragile. We'll get it looked at later," Dean laughed. "In the meanwhile," he turned to Emmy who was quiet, trying to make herself invisible. He turned his hand with his palm up, motioning for her to give him something.
"Aw, come on," Emmy wined. She was hoping he'd forget by now, but when did Dean ever forget anything.
"You brought this on yourself, honey," Sam reminded her. "You should've listened and stayed in the car."
"You know the consequences," Dean gave her knowing look.
Emmy huffed with a flushed face and jutted chin. This was so unfair. She shot her brothers one last, displeased glare for good measure before stomping to the car.
"Adorable," Sam grinned. Dean agreed with a chuckle. "So, you wanna stay for a while?"
Dean stared at their mother's grave, decorated with flowers and pictures. He already said goodbye to his mother a long time ago and he accepted her death. He could now say that he could let it go and hopefully Emmy was right about her being in heaven. Wherever she was, it was better than here – hell on earth.
"No," he answered eventually. "I think Emmy got it covered."
At that moment, Emmy got out of the car with her stash of candy she got from Bobby. Her cheeks were filled with candy.
Dean had to try hard no to laugh. "Did you just ate all of your candy?"
"No," her voice was muffled, "I di'n't eat 'em, I save' 'em."
Sam laughed. "You saved them?"
"Hmm," she nodded, having a hard time chewing on all the gummy bears in her mouth.
"Okay then," Dean chuckled. "Now give it to me."
Emmy glanced down at the bag, looking like she had to give away her baby or something. She reluctantly handed it over to her brother, waiting several seconds before letting it go.
Dean instantly noticed that the bag weighed less. "All of it, Emmy."
She let out a long breath through her nose, before digging her hands in her pockets, taking out handfuls of candy and putting them in the bag. Still chewing on the gummy bears in her mouth, she told her brothers, "I s'ill hope you s'ep on a lego."
Sam grabbed her around her waist, flipping her over his shoulder in one single move. "Yeah and we still love you."
Emmy shrieked, covering her mouth so the candy wouldn't fall from her stuffed cheeks. "Sammy! Pu' me 'own!"
"I'm sorry, what?" Sam teased.
Emmy punched his back with her fists. "I sai' pu' me 'own!"
"Sweetheart, don't talk with your mouth full."
SPN
The ten year old was mesmerized as she watched the beautiful scenery from the window; the spectacular mountains, lakes with waterfalls and jaw dropping cliffs that looked like they came straight from a magazine.
When the car suddenly pulled across the road to stop in the opposite shoulder, Emmy frowned. Without a word, Dean got out and sat on the hood. Emmy exchanged a look with Sam, silently asking what was going on. He was equally confused and got out, too, while Emmy followed.
Approaching her brother, Emmy looked concerned. "Dean, what is it?"
There was a pause of several seconds and she thought he'd never answer until he said, "I'm sorry."
"For what?" Sam moved closer, sitting next to him on the hood.
Dean's hands were tucked in the pockets of his jeans, his gaze downcast. "The way I've been acting." Another minute passed before he spoke up, "And for Dad. I mean, he was your dad too. And it's my fault that he's gone."
Where did that come from, Emmy wanted to know. Why was he saying all of that? Is that why he had a harder time coping with their father's death? Because he thought it was his fault?
"What are you talking about?" Sam questioned.
"I know you've been thinking it … so have I," Dean said softly, never taking his eyes off his shoes. "Doesn't take a genius to figure it out."
"Dean," Sam started.
"Back at the hospital, I made a full recovery. It was a miracle. And five minutes later Dad's dead and the Colt's gone," Dean finally looked up to meet his brother's eyes, demanding him to prove him wrong but was only answered with silence.
"But, but that's not possible," Emmy argued in disbelief.
"Emmy, open your eyes," Dean's fingers caressed her hair, his hand resting on the back of her head, "Why do you think he gave you that teddy bear before you birthday?"
Emmy took a shaky breath. No. This couldn't be true. Her father wouldn't do that, no way. What her brother was saying is that he didn't just die, but he left; he left her behind and that struck her hard.
Dean's jaw clenched, his throat tightened. "You can't tell me there's not a connection there. I don't know how the demon was involved. I don't know how the whole thing went down exactly. But Dad's dead because of me. And that much I do know."
"We don't know that. Not for sure," Sam told him, but he could hear the lack of convincingness in his own voice.
Dean's hand dropped to Emmy's shoulder, squeezing. "You, Sam and Dad ... you're the most important people in my life." Tears prickled his eyes, his voice trembled. "And now ... I never should've come back. It wasn't natural. And now look what's come of it. I was dead. And I should have stayed dead."
Emmy found herself slowly shaking her head; no, no, no, no, no, no! She was just accepting her father's death, she learned to live with the fact that he was gone because that's what people do, they leave. But knowing that he did it on purpose, that he had the choice to stay, to be with her, that wasn't something you get over easily. No wonder her brother suffered, especially with the big what-if going through his head all day and all night.
"You wanted to know how I was feeling. Well, that's it." Dean swallowed hard, trying to compose himself. "So tell me. What could you possibly say to make that all right?"
Sam looked away, not knowing what to say, because like his brother said, it wouldn't make anything all right.
Emmy let the tears roll down her cheeks freely. She suddenly felt this wave of grief and pain washing over her. Not because of her father, but because of the realization that she could've lost Dean instead. She already came close to losing him, but they saved him. He got hurt multiple times, but he always healed. Emmy was at a point where she never considered losing her big brother, because he was undefeatable. But now she knew better, Dean was just a human and she could've easily lost him like she lost her parents.
She wanted to hit herself for thinking that she was glad her father made the deal. What kind of a daughter was she? Choosing her brother over her own father, betraying him, she should be ashamed of herself. And she was. But she couldn't ignore the small spark of happiness buried deep inside of her, the warm feeling that was grateful for having her brother. She would never admit it but if she ever had to choose between her father and brother … she would chose Dean … every single time. It hurt to think that she was more attached to her brother, the one that was always with her, from day one. He never let her down, always took care of her, provided for her, loved her like she was his own. Because at the end of the day she was his, and not her father's. John lost that privilege when he let her down too many times. Emmy always considered Dean more like a dad than a brother, and he always treated her more than just a little sister.
Emmy couldn't stand the tears glistening in her brother's eyes. It wasn't right, he was supposed to be strong, her Batman, her hero, the one that never could be destroyed. But he was just a human just like her and Sam, he was so used to being the one who had to keep it together, they sometimes forgot that he wasn't as invincible as they all thought he was. He deserved to show his emotions too, his weakness, his tears.
Burying her head against his hard chest, taking in his comforting smell and touch, Emmy hugged her brother fiercely. She hoped he'd feel her unconditional love, her proudness and admiration for him. She wanted him to know that she was there for him as much as he was there for her. Because in this world, in times like these, they only had each other.
A/N: Hey beautiful people! Sorry for the delay (again, I know), I don't have any excuses except for school and life.
So what did you think of my take on this chapter, make sure to leave a review, I'm addicted to them :p
Also, for all of you tumblr-lovers out there, I finally made a blog. You should check it out, but I warn you, it's not finished yet and I'm still trying to get the hang of it. So yeah, here's my name if if you wanna pay a little visit: mayremmy
Thanks for all the reviews, follows, favorites and reads! You guys are the best thing that has ever happened to me! LOVE YOU!