"Sarah, didn't I ask you to bring some cups? Because right now, I don't see any plates. Or cups for that matter," Karen called out from the kitchen.

"Crap. Can't people just eat off the napkins or something?" Sarah replied from the couch she and Emma were sitting on.

"Sarah, it's a memorial. For our Uncle. People can not just eat off napkins, okay? And besides, what would people drink from?"

"Karen, it's almost a 30 minute drive into town! There has to be something in there."

"I can go into town and get some," Emma volunteered. "I'd love to help in any way I could." Plus, it would mean she could get out of this house. As much as she hated to admit it, Emma just didn't know how to act around memorials. Especially when she hadn't known the person personally, and the things she did know about him didn't make her like him at all.

"Thanks, Emma. That would help a lot. Do you know your way around town?" Karen asked.

"Yeah," Emma lied. She didn't really know, but how hard could it be to find a Walmart in such a small place? She grabbed her keys. "I'll be back as soon as I can." She stepped out onto the front porch and headed towards her car. When she was at the door, she heard the front door slam. Sarah came after her.

"Karen wanted to know if you could get some crackers too. Not saltines, but 'nice ones'." Sarah handed Emma a twenty. "I expect the change, shortie."

"Nope. Consider it a labor fee." Emma smiled at her friend. She hugged her friend. "I'm sorry about your uncle."

Sarah hugged back tightly. "Thanks." Emma didn't want to let go of her friend. Suddenly she had a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach. Finally though, she stepped back.

"I'll see you in a little bit." As Emma drove away, she turned around to wave goodbye, the feeling in her stomach still there.


All right, so apparently a town this small didn't actually have a Walmart. Which would have been nice to know, but what would have been even nicer to know was that her crap car was on the fritz before it crapped out on her on the outskirts of town. Emma unbuttoned her sweater and threw it into the backseat. It was getting hot, and as she wasn't going to be at the memorial anytime soon, she figured the tank top she was wearing would be fine for now. As Emma started to walk back into town, she passed an old abandoned warehouse. She walked by it, feeling strangely curious about what was on the inside. Her curiosity was quickly replaced by fear as a black car suddenly peeled out of an alley way she was standing by. It barely came to a stop before hitting her, making her jump backwards. Her fear became anger almost immediately.

"Hey! Watch where you're going!" She kicked the hood, a mistake since she was wearing only tennis shoes. She glared at the two men inside, and was surprised to discover it was the two F.B.I guys from the police station.

"Hey, hey, hey, hey." The driver growled, getting out. "Watch what your kicking. Where did you come from?"

"Dean, relax," said the taller one, also getting out of the car. "Miss, are you all right?" He walked over to where Emma stood. "We really need you to vacate the area, there may be a situation going down." He touched her shoulder, starting to lead Emma back the way she came, when he noticed her tattoo on her shoulder. He looked startled.

"Oh my god. Where did you get that tattoo?"

Emma was surprised. He didn't look like an ink nut. Why would he care about her tattoo. Before she could even reply, he interrupted her. "Is your name Emma by any chance?"

"How did you know that?" she asked, backing away slightly.

"Sam, what is it?" The driver asked, coming up to them.

"Dean, I think it's her," he replied, looking excited. Dean looked over to where Emma was standing, looking confused.

"Sam, are you sure? She's kind of… short, isn't she?" He stuck his hand out insultingly low to the ground. Sam gave him a look as Emma glared at him.

"Look I don't know who you think I am, but I haven't done anything to make me wanted by the F.B.I or anything."

Sam held up one of his hands. "No, no it's nothing like that. We're not even real feds. We're the Winchesters. We're here about… Well, it doesn't really matter, but we need you to come with us."

"Wait, Sam and Dean Winchester? Like the Ghosthunters Winchesters?" Emma asked, incredulous.

"Please don't lump us in their group, but yeah, those Winchesters. How do you know about them- or us for that matter?" Despite his short comment, Dean was starting to look excited too.

Emma's mouth dropped. "I called you! I needed some help with a ghost thing a month ago, and you hung up on me!"

"You hung up on her?" Sam asked, turning around to face his partner. Dean looked uncomfortable.

"Yeah, well we were busy… It's not like I knew it was her."

"Who do you think I am? Wait, if you guys are here, does that mean there's a ghost or something here? How come you came for this one, and not for mine?" Emma asked, more indignant for some reason than curious about how they knew her name.

"Speaking of the reason why we're here, before we do anything else, we need to do a binding spell." Dean pulled out a small pocket knife.

"WAIT." Emma said, backing even further away. "What do you think you're going to do with that?"

"Dean, wait-"

"It's just a little blood binding spell. Believe me, we need to do this now before-" he said, looking for a vial in his jacket. When he looked up however, Emma was gone, having taken off at the words 'blood binding spell.' Sam gave his brother another look before they both took off after her. For such a short person, she really was fast.