It's with a happy heart that I'm able to say that at this point Crossroads will be going in a slightly different direction. While it is still going to follow some canon events, large parts of the story will change as more and more things pile up. Thus is the nature of for want of a nail fics. This arc has been a section of the story that I've just been dying to get to, and I hope that you guys like reading this as much as I've liked writing it.
Something I should put out before any gets confused, there's no Amelia in this story. While there is the tag for Lydia and Dean due to their one night stand, I don't plan any interaction for him and the vet. No reason Sam would be wandering around aimlessly with Emma being under his care anyway. I just wanted to put that forth so no one got confused as I explored how the two remaining Winchesters get to a point of them hunting together.
Chapter 22: Carrying On
What did it say about his life that Sam was honestly hoping he was just hallucinating again? He needed the world to be fake right now, to just be another sick fantasy fed to him by Lucifer because the reality just felt too bogged down, to dark for him to handle. He felt sick as he drove the long road, the destination only vaguely in his mind. Even the hard leather of the wheel felt too real to him, sharp with clarity under his fingers. He was sure he would give anything to be back to suffering in the asylum, waiting to die, because then it would mean that Dean was still out there and alive, trying to save him.
He shouldn't be driving. Dean was supposed to be behind the wheel of the car to be driving to their destination, triumphant after the death of Dick Roman, not dead with nothing to even bury or burn afterward. Now Sam was in the car by himself, on the way back to Rufus' old cabin that had become the home base. Not home though, because Sam had never had a home beside the Impala, and now he no longer had a brother inside of that either.
The miles passed by with a horrid clarity, all nearly eighteen hundred of them between Chicago and Whitefish. There really was nowhere else to go, although it was the only hazy thing in his mind. Just what was he supposed to do when he got there, he still wasn't sure of. He knew what he should do, what Dean would want him to do. The job was finished, the Leviathans finally taken care of. The mistake that Castiel had accidentally unleashed upon the world was finally gone, maybe with some idle clean up needed at best. For the most part though, it didn't seem as if it would be much of an issue. The creatures could be taken down by hunters now that they knew how, and keeping them contained would only take some cement and keeping the body parts far away from each other. This was the point where Dean had wanted to be, to finally be done.
The next step had been planned out to pick up the young Amazon and get her to Jody, somewhere safe where she wouldn't get hurt or found out by some random hunter looking for a kill. The responsible thing to do would be to follow the plan. It was Dean's last wish that Sam knew, and as he drove in the damaged car while the miles slipped past with every minute, he didn't feel all that sure.
It would be safer, he knew that, but it was also the last thing that Emma had wanted. Even when she'd agreed to the idea she had never really liked it. That much had always been obvious. Sam did not want to think of himself packing her up in the car and taking her to Sioux Falls, driving away never to see the young girl again unless he just happened to be passing through town.
Hell, Sam didn't even know what his future was now. How was he supposed to pull together the thought of what hers was going to be?
He didn't allow himself to stop except for the need of gas and food, careful to grab only fruit and vegetables in case there were still items that were tainted. It would probably take a good while before that little problem finally cleared up, but he couldn't find it in himself to worry too much. Of all the problems going on in the world, food stoning up a few people for a while before it wore off wasn't exactly one for him. He was worn out, tired, and he didn't really care anymore.
What was he even supposed to do without Dean? They'd been together so long, nearly their whole lives? Knowing his brother was dead was like a hole in his gut. It made him think of last time, when he'd been a lost and drunk mess until Ruby had forcibly picked him up and dusted him off. Of course, he'd only gotten worse then. Being a drunk failure of a former hunter would have been better than what he'd unleashed on the world, but it would have also meant Dean in Hell for the rest of eternity, or worst finally twisted into a demon that delighted in anarchy and other people's pain.
This was better, somehow, but only barely. Dean was gone, dead, but he was safely in Heaven. It was enough for Sam. It had to be. He wouldn't be suffering. Damn, he might not even realize he was dead. He could imagine the angels just tucking away the older of the Winchester brothers safely and allowing him to enjoy his eternity in ignorant bliss in the hope that he doesn't break anything else. The thought made him smile ruefully as he drove, imagining the one he loved more than anything in the world finally able to relax and retire, to know that the bad things of the world could never get to him ever again.
Sam wanted so desperately to join him. He'd been tired for so long, but he knew he'd never be able to do it. Dean would want him to fight, to keep going. He'd once sold his soul for Sam to have a second chance at life. To throw that away would be to spit at everything Dean had ever done for him and he just couldn't do that to his memory.
So he drove safely and quickly back to the last family that he had left, idly wondering just when he'd come to think of the girl like that. At the start of this her name had been monster, mistake, something to convince his brother that he was a fool to feel sorry for. Slowly his distrust had just died around her and then, well it had just turned into something else.
He still could remember getting out of the hospital, how tightly she had hugged him to the point where it had actually been painful, her control so shattered as she pushed her face into his chest. Her strength was nothing to sneer at, but for all of it she had felt like a scared child clinging to him in wordless thankfulness that he was alright.
Back then he hadn't hugged her back, too confused by all of it. After that, she just felt different to him. It had to be the reason why he had taken her to the graveyard, tried to connect to her as he told her what little he knew about his mom. She hadn't felt like a stranger anymore. Now it looked like she was all that he had left, and he was going to have to be the one to explain that to her when he arrived, to tell her what no child should have to hear about a parent.
When he finally pulled up to the cabin, he still wasn't at the decision of what he should do concerning her new life. The car door slamming shut felt so final to him as he crossed the threshold and opened the door to the cabin.
Emma looked up immediately from where she was sitting on the couch, her eyes wide as her face split into a smile.
"You're home!" she cried out happily as she got up quickly and rushed to him. The sounds of the news filtered through to him from the background, vague words of a terrorist attack on SugroCorp, a bomb set off inside. The words of the reporter talking about his last bit of work, destroying the lab, filtered through him as he slowly took her shoulders and pulled her close into a hug.
"Uncle?" she asked softly, her tone uncertain and soft as he laid his chin on the top of her head. "What's wrong?"
"Dean and Cas… he didn't… they didn't… make it," he forced himself to say, to finally get out and face the reality that he wished for all his soul was just another illusion, another nightmare in his sick brain. It felt like blades dragging against his skin, but what else could he do but to tell her the truth?
Her reaction was pretty much what he had expected it to be, disbelief at first, not wanting to accept it. Realization of it what he said slowly dawned on her face, and then the tears. He didn't even know how long she spent in his arms, breaking down and sobbing as she hung onto him, begging it to not be true. He just held her through it, letting her get it all out, and it would be a lie to say that there weren't tears on his face as well. It was a truth neither of them wanted to face, Dean loved by the both of them, and now they were both alone.
They'd found their way onto the couch, sitting in silence for the longest time as Sam allowed her to get used to the news. After a while the crying stopped, sniffling taking its place before it seemed that she was just empty of all of it, drying them from her face and just resting next to him, her head on his shoulder.
Swallowing thickly, he stared off at the television he'd long since shut off. There would be news about the destruction for a while, and laying low would be the smart thing to do, so he supposed this could be something that could be put off, for a while anyway. This decision would need to be made but there was no real reason to rush. He wasn't putting it off, just… taking his time to do this smartly. Telling her she would stay and hunt with him would just be what his dad had done, dragging a child across the country to learn about all the darkness in the world and how to beat it. On the other hand, he couldn't just force her into the apple pie life that always seemed a distant dream if it wasn't what she wanted, especially since there was still the matter of training her on how to protect herself.
No… No, he'd figure it out later. They had time now. Rushing… it just wouldn't be right. At least, that's what he told himself.
With no trace of either body, there was not much to do for a hunter's funeral for either Castiel or her father. At least, that's how Sam had explained it to Emma, before informing her they were doing something anyway, because it was the right thing to do and that it would help them grieve. She wanted nothing more than to honor the departed dead of her family but when he explained what a hunter's funeral even was to her, she wasn't sure she understood.
If the whole point was to burn the body to make sure they would not come back as a vengeful spirit, how would they accomplish it with no bodies?
It seemed it was just a terminology thing, or at the very least that was the impression she had. She felt too raw to ask too much about it, instead helping her uncle with preparing for it. Gathering the wood for a fire, she worked through the afternoon with him until they had a rather large stack for a good bonfire going.
"We should give him a sending away present," she murmured softly. "Something he can enjoy in his afterlife."
"What do you mean?" he asked her.
"When someone dies, they can take things with them. You bury important things for them in the ground as well as food or drinks so that they can enjoy it in the afterlife," she explained to him, confused when he didn't get what she was talking about. "You… you do that in your faith too, right?"
"Uh, no. Not really. In fact, there's a whole saying about how you can't take things with you," he explained to her.
"No, that can't… that can't be how it goes. He has to be able to have things in the afterlife, he has to," she argued. "How would he keep the coins if he can't bring them with him? How's he going to pay for the ferry? He'd just be stuck on the banks forever then, everyone would! That wouldn't be fair at all!"
The idea of her father, with nothing to him, not even the final gift she had given him, it tore at her. What kind of god would allow such a cruel afterlife?!
"Emma," Sam said as he clapped a hand on her shoulder. "It's okay. He's fine there, I promise."
"But if he can't-"
"You know what, I'm sure he can. I misspoke, that's all," he said. It was clearly a lie made to appease her, but she didn't want to address it and only nodded her head slowly. She hoped he was wrong. It was likely he was not on the banks of the Styx. That was not his faith, but he had no faith in deities, so where would he go? The idea of her gift doing nothing for him, of him being unable to even have it, the idea caused her to feel physically ill.
"You know what, wait here," he told her before he went to the cabin, coming back about five minutes later with two bottles of whiskey in his hands. "So what do we do, bury it?"
"I… yes," she said, unable to understand why he was going along with this. If he didn't believe it would go to her father, what was the point? Was he just humoring her?
She could live with that.
"We're sending him both?" she asked instead.
"No. One of them I'm going to toast him with," he informed her as he gently shook the other bottle. "And with the size of it, I plan to do a lot of toasting."
They buried the bottle together at the base of the woodpile before Sam set it on fire. The flames caught quickly, licking the sky. She gazed up as it crackled and sparked, brightly lit up ash flowing up to meet the mix of orange of purple of the sky that was morphing from dusk to a truly dark night. Only the brightest stars were out so far, soft dots of white light. The scene was beautiful, in an achingly sort of way, a perfect night to say goodbye.
She didn't know what to say, what to even do. She wished she'd been taught some dirges when she'd still been with her sisters, to give the proper respect for her father. It hurt so much, this empty hole in her chest. This was nothing like burning Bobby's flask, nothing like when she'd been left by the other Amazons. It wasn't just emotional pain here, but physical. It literally hurt more than anything she'd ever felt in her life.
She was sure she'd cry from it if she let herself, but she'd been sobbing too much lately and it was getting exhausting.
"You okay?" he asked her softly. "You want to talk about him or was this a bad idea?"
"Yes," she replied immediately, desperate for anything she could latch onto that any story about her father would do. For the time she'd spent with him, there was still so little that she knew about the man, his past an eternal mystery held away from her. She'd spend all night talking about him if she could. "Tell me about him, anything."
"Okay. One time, when he small, like four years old, there was a fire," he started. "And I was even younger, just a baby at the time. He carried me out of the house. Even back then, Dean was a natural hero."
He cracked open and bottle, tipping it up for a moment before taking a long swig.
"He always was brave, wasn't he?" she asked him softly. "And compassionate."
"Compassionate? Yeah, when he wanted to be," Sam admitted. "Another time, we were on a plane and he was totally scared out of his mind. He hates to… He hated to fly. He hummed Metallica in order to help himself calm down."
It went on like that for a while, a little story, a little insight into his personality, a window to the father she loved but had never really known in the way she had wanted. With every little passing tale he took another swig, the bottle half empty before even an hour had passed. Her uncle looked sluggish, but still on his feet when she reached for the bottle.
"May I?" she asked, desperate to toast him too. Maybe it was because her uncle was already affected by the alcohol but he passed it off without question. She figured it he was still on his feet then she'd be fine too.
Sadly it hadn't occurred to her that Sam was much bigger than her, and experienced with such drinks. While the first shot that went down her throat burned, she was determined to keep going and have more, ignoring the way her head almost immediately began to feel fuzzy.
When she woke up the next morning, the sun high in the sky, it felt like it was trying to bake her alive. She groaned and threw an arm over her eyes, the simple motion making her feel like she could throw up right there. Her throat both felt paper dry and yet somehow slick with saliva at the same time. It took several minutes for the world to stop spinning enough that she was able to sit up, covered in dirt from the outside floor and green leaves caught up in her hair. She saw on the other side of the bonfire, long since burned out, a pair of feet that wore Sam's boots. A soft snore told him he was still alive and she fell back to the ground with a groan.
"How in the world does Dionysus do this every day?" she groaned out before shutting her eyes, desperate to fall back into unconscious until her head stopped pounding. At least her eyes hurt too much to cry again.
Three days into his stay at the cabin after he'd come back, Sam knew that he was stalling. There was only so long he could wrestle with the idea of what to do with Emma before he knew it was nothing more than putting it off. The fact of the matter was, Sam always felt lost without Dean, and his decisions never worked out for the best. He'd hate to admit that he needed his brother around to keep him from screwing up, but his track record spoke for itself. Frankly, he didn't know what to do, except that he did not want to be parted from Emma, especially not now. She was all he had left of Dean as blood family. It was something that, no matter what happened, he had no real intention to let go of.
So finally during breakfast, he decided it was time to broach the subject.
"So… We need to go to Sioux Falls," he informed her as he put down the plate front of her, piled up with eggs that he'd fried up. "Now that the funeral is over and all..."
"I… Of course," she replied, her tone sounding dead.
"When we get there, I need to know if we should go to Bobby's or Jody's," he stated.
"What… what are you talking about, Uncle?"
"Well, Bobby's place was damaged pretty badly, but it wasn't destroyed completely," he explained to her. "There's some stuff there I'd like to pick up, salvage what I can. There's probably not much left, but I'd like to see what can be saved. There's also some stuff in New York… a lock-up that my dad had. I think there might be some things that I can find to help us hunt."
"Us?" she breathed out, the word almost sounding choked up in her throat. "Hunt?"
"Yes, us. No matter what, Emma… you're staying with me," he told her. "Without Dean I can't… I can't do this on my own. You don't have to make this choice based on whether family is around or not. I can work anywhere, get a job and you can go to school. I'll protect you. Any mistakes you make, any hunter you might get the attention of, you don't have to worry about them. I'll make sure no one ever hurts you, but if you want… if you want to learn, if you want to keep others safe, and make the world a better place like Dean always did, I'll do that too. I'll show you how to find the dark places and make them better for the people who don't know about them."
"Why are you saying all of this? Father always wanted-"
"Dean's gone, Emma. I'd hate to say it, but I don't think what he wants really matters much now. Besides, we both know you fought against the idea tooth and nail before, but now you've seen how bad it can get, how it can affect you, what it can take away. So now you can make an informed decision." he told her honestly. "It is a dangerous life. It'll take everything you have, chew you up and spit you out. It's something no kid should ever have to face, ever, but just because you shouldn't have to face it doesn't mean that you can hide from it. It finds you. Once you're in, you never really get out. You'll always know, always see the news with something weird in it and wonder what really happened. You'll never be able to sleep and hear scratching at the window and tell yourself it's just a branch without needing to go and check. The paranoia never leaves. It's out there, and not knowing about it doesn't keep you safe, it just makes you a possible target. Now there are tons of people out there who can go their whole lives not knowing about the truth and it never comes for them. Overall it can be okay to be normal, but some are made a victim by their ignorance."
She sat at the table, not touching her food. She just stared at him and he put a hand to his mouth, trying to steady his breathing.
"This life killed Dean and Cas," he told her softly. "I don't want to throw you at the next monster that comes around with some false promise that hunting makes it all better. Everyone I've ever known since I was a kid is gone now. You have a chance to walk away from it, to be everything Dean wanted you to be. A lawyer, doctor, anything you could dream of, but..."
He looked at her, meeting her green eyes, looking so much like Dean's it felt like a punch in the gut.
"I want to give you the thing I never had, Emma," he assured her. "A choice. You can do anything you want, either being normal or a hunter. All you have to do is choose what you want, what you really want."
She opened her mouth to speak but he held up a hand and shook his head.
"It's a big decision. Don't make it rashly," he breathed before resting against the couch. "You need to think about this first, honestly. You tell me when we get to Sioux Falls and no sooner."
The teen nodded her head, but he had a feeling she already knew what she really desired. He comforted himself with the fact that she at least knew the truth. This life would probably lead somewhere horrible and bloody, and Dean had been right about that but he'd also been right about what he'd told Sam at Stanford so many years ago. For everything that had happened, they had saved a lot of people along the way. It was her heritage, and he knew deep down she'd give anything to be able to be like her dad, to help people as he had.
Sam lost Dean. He wasn't coming back. No angel to drag him out of Hell this time, no demon to sell something to in order to get him alive again. Even if there was, every time one of them came back they just made the world worse. It was time to grow up and face that.
He was alone, and Emma was alone too, but they could be alone together. He knew he would never be her father, would never be Dean for her, and there was no way that she would ever be Dean for him. She looked like him, acted like him, listened to the same crappy music he did, but Emma would never be his brother. Deep down though, it would have to be good enough. It just had to be.
Despite the choice given to Emma, she already knew what she wanted to pick, but she felt she owed it to both Sam and Dean to actually give it some thought. It would be easy to make her choice right off the bat and stick with it. She no longer felt like the unsure warrior at the inn, debating with herself if what she should do about her father. She'd made a choice then but it had been a shaky one at best, sure it would end with her being killed. With her training, with one sweet memory of her father, she'd been okay with that. It had swept her up in a life she never would have imagined, but it had also been very dangerous.
Dean would want her to chase this dream of high school, a notion which when she honestly thought about it, realized she knew nothing about. Kevin Tran had seemed passionate about it, but why she had no idea. It was weird but with him being chosen by his god, to have such an important path laid out in front of him, she was sure she'd give just about anything to trade places with him.
Deciding what to do with the rest of her life had been a lot easier when she'd thought said life would only last about fifteen minutes until she was killed. This was much harder. Still, she gave it an honest effort and tried to give it some thought. There was some time after all, her uncle telling her he wanted to work on the Impala's engine to keep her running, apparently it having been damaged when crashing into something during the hunt of the Leviathans.
Words from forever ago, about how Dean considered this car to be his baby filtered into her head as Sam worked, herself sitting in the passenger side seat. This car was important to her father, he'd said so himself. He'd really liked cars too, and the few lessons he'd been able to find time to give her about the maintenance of them had made it clear to her he knew his stuff. This one had to be so important to him, precious and well loved.
And guilt clawed in her stomach when she laid her hand out on the dashboard and felt… nothing. What was wrong with her? She should care about this car too, right? Why could she sit here and feel no connection to it? She missed her father so desperately, wanted to love everything he loved, but the feelings wouldn't come. It was just a car, no memories of him in it to appease her, nothing to connect it with her in her mind. A sense of dread hit her, that she didn't know her father, and now all she'd ever have would be the word of other people of his life that he'd been too terrified to share with her.
She squeezed her eyes shut and grabbed a tape, desperate for anything to make her love this car, anything to connect the feelings she knew she should have but wouldn't come. Fumbling with the little plastic in her hands and pushing it into the tape deck, a dry sob escaped her when Come Sail Away started to play, the first song he'd ever listened to with her. It hadn't been in the Impala, but maybe if she forced herself to pretend, it would almost feel like it had been.
With the music playing, and the sound of Sam working not too far from her, she pulled out her battered copy of the Odyssey and flipped it open. The book never left her side, the last thing she'd gotten from her father, and she treasured it. Her fingers fell over the page, the words already memorized in her brain, but she read anyway. She wanted a feeling of familiarity to cling to. It was the only thing that helped her think this could be okay.
Even still, deep down she knew she'd never be what her father wanted her to be. She didn't belong in his Impala, didn't belong in this life he'd told her time and time again she shouldn't be a part of. She should pick that far off definition of normal to fulfill his last wish.
But she wouldn't. She couldn't. She was too desperate for the connection to his memory, the only thing she had now.
Emma had been so desperate to take the Plymouth to Sioux Falls that Sam didn't argue with her, even if he didn't understand the reason why it mattered so much to her. With the Impala left behind at the cabin to be fixed up later on, Sam knew he was going back without her having to say a word about her choice. This wasn't a final destination, just a stop along the way.
"I want to stay," she breathed, not surprising him in the least. "I want to fight. I want him… I want him to proud of me."
"He would be," he told her, and deep down, he knew it was true. Dean would be angry to know this was happening, would hate to think of her in danger and hunting, but he'd still be proud despite himself. It's just kind of how he was.
So they went to Bobby's junkyard. The house was still in shambles, blackened frames and walls. The cars were still in place, clearly no one buying the lot yet or clearing it out. He wondered idly if Jody had anything to do with that, or maybe the town itself did. It had been more than long enough for the property to be seized and put back on the market, or at the very least cleared out. Maybe Sioux Falls, apparently now somewhat in the know had decided to leave their unsung hero's property alone. A testament perhaps or maybe a kindness. He wasn't sure which, but Sam knew he would have to remember to swing by Jody's while they were here in order to thank her, and also to tell her what was going on.
"Grab some boxes from the trunk," he told Emma as she looked up at the burned up building. "There's a couple sheds around. Anything that looks like we can take, put it in there. I'll sort out through all of it later on. Just call for me if you need anything. I'll be going into the house."
"Would anything have survived the fire?"
"Probably not much, but there are a few safe spots. A panic room down in the basement. I don't think the fire messed with that. Alright, get to work. After this, we can get some dinner."
He crept into the house slowly, careful where he stepped. Since the fire, most of the smell of smoke had cleared away but it still wafted in the air around him. Ash and soot were everywhere, piles that had once been books with a large amount of knowledge. From the day that Sam had met him, there had been tombs laying out everywhere. On shelves, the steps, never a spare space anywhere. He was thankful that Bobby had some backup copies, and what they'd gotten from Annie. It wasn't the library that the man had owned, but it was a start.
There was almost nothing around here though, everything a crisp. The panic room had survived, a few books stored in it, but that was about it. The last place he checked was the fireplace, moving the stone out of the way to see if there was anything of value there.
He almost choked out a laugh when he saw nothing but a plastic little DVD case in it, pulling it out to see Casa Erotica 13 of all things in there. Oh wow, Bobby had kept this? He supposed it made sense. The recording was of Gabriel talking about the cage after all and how Lucifer could be trapped inside of it again. It no doubt had been too valuable to throw it away, and it shouldn't have fallen into the wrong hands, needing to be hidden. He wondered idly about snapping it in half but something made him pause. Gabriel's magic could always show in unpredictable ways. If he broke it maybe nothing would happen, or maybe one last joke would be in store for him, some horrible fate that the archangel would find funny in a kicking a puppy kind of way.
It was just better not to risk it, so he slipped it into his jacket. He could always decide what to do with it later, maybe hide it away somewhere a little more secure now than a burned down house. For now, he just took what little he'd been able to salvage and left to help Emma search the rest of the area before what little they found was in the trunk and they were off again.
Stopping by Jody's wasn't the sobering affair that he had been afraid it would be. She offered them a meal and to discuss what had happened with Dick Roman. He could tell she was disappointed that she would not have company for longer than that but understood it was the choice of the Winchesters and what they needed to do was too important to stop.
He grabbed a few newspapers while in town and researched a bit on his computer, wondering if there was anything simple they could handle in the New York area. A simple salt and burn wouldn't be a bad way to get her feet wet. Yeah, she'd killed the nixie and got pulled along with Garth to handle the shojo, but she'd never been involved in a case from start to finish. Finding one, investigating the matter and finally taking out the thing causing the problems, those were all things that she was going to need to learn how to do. It would be best to start at the bottom and have her work her way up, and some simple jobs they could hit on the way would be for the best.
Once he had everything the car could carry, he set her up to start practicing. He ended up booking a hotel room for the both of them for a few days, figuring it would be just as easy to start practicing here. Besides, he'd need time to organize and catalog their findings. Every morning they'd wake up and get to work, eating a fast meal, take some time to look things over and then head back to the junkyard for the privacy he wanted when he taught her.
Guns he just wanted to give up on. The fact of the matter was she didn't have the talent for it. No matter how many clips he gave her, no matter how much she practiced, she was just a terrible shot and he knew he couldn't rely on her for that kind of support. With a pistol in her hand, she might accidentally end up shooting someone she didn't mean to. In the heart or between the eyes was usually what put the monster down, and at best she was a spray and pray type, not made for that kind of precision.
"Hand it over," he sighed as she lowered the Glock, her face red in embarrassment.
"I'm getting worse," she grumbled, giving the gun up. She hadn't hit a single target this time, probably frustrated. Every piece of metal he'd set up with spray-painted circles laid out in front of her, unmarked by a single bullet hole.
"We'll find something your speed eventually," he assured her. "Hey, not every hunter is a full-blown sniper or anything. Heck, some just do research and act as contacts. There's nothing wrong with having a spot or two you're lacking at."
Actually, such a thing was very dangerous, but she seemed bummed enough as it was. No sense in having that kind of talk just yet. He'd just handle the shooting for now if they ran into something that needed a bullet put into it. At least, he tried to comfort himself with that.
This was Dean's daughter and more than that, his last living relative. He was not going to risk her life, not for anything. She had to be perfect, or at least as close as she could be, in order to survive, but he couldn't stand the thought of turning into her drill sergeant. He wanted to encourage her while keeping her safe, not beat her down until she had her lessons completely learned. It was funny how Dean had confessed to his fear of turning into Dad, and now Sam was facing the same thing.
It made him wish he'd given Dean's worries a lot more consideration before. Not just training, but parenting was harder than he'd given him credit for.
He'd long since come to the understanding of why John Winchester had come to the decisions he had, why he did what he did, but that didn't mean Sam was in any hurry to walk down that same path. He wanted to avoid it if he could.
"Let's work on your hand to hand for now," he said, in an attempt to cheer her up. She was better at sparring anyway, though he'd like it if she could be good at other things too. She clearly liked relying on her strength the most in a fight, but he knew it wasn't the only thing she could have in her arsenal. Lots of hunters went up against monsters a lot stronger than them physically and it wasn't a guarantee that it would win the fight. Besides, her eyes always changed when she pushed herself that way, and he'd like her to not get found out if he could manage it.
As she swung at him, he had to admit her form was excellent. Smaller and agile, she had speed on her side, but Sam had been doing this a lot longer. Emma didn't have many tells, subtle, but he'd been doing this his whole life, and it wasn't too difficult to tell where her next blow would be. He blocked and dodged as she went at him, encouraging her to keep going.
It might have been best to skip it though because he couldn't help but notice she was putting more into it than she usually did. Holding back, just learning the movements was the idea, but when he caught her wrist and twisted it to keep her from landing the blow, she suddenly snarled and launched herself at him. He suddenly had to move faster to keep her strikes from connecting, hooking his foot from underneath her to send her falling on her ass.
"I think that's enough for now," he informed her, trying to calm her down before she glared up at him, her eyes flashing gold and tackled him. "Whoa! Emma, wait up!"
"Shut up! Don't treat me like I can't do this!" she yelled at him, her fist landing where he'd been just a second ago, denting the car he'd been standing in front of just a second ago.
"Emma, you're upset. I think we need to-"
"I'm upset because I need to do this right!"
He caught her arm and she tried to yank away from him, actually dragging him a few inches as he dug his heels into the ground. Her other fist suddenly connecting to his face, slugging him hard enough to whip his head to the side. Pain erupted inside of him, making him see stars, and he had to grab her suddenly as she went in for another blow. This was dangerous. She was taking it too seriously, and he needed to calm her down now!
He put his entire body weight into slamming into her, knocking her to the ground. He had size and weight on his side, and he pressed his advantage quickly, climbing on top of her and twisting her arm behind her back until she cried out in pain. An inch further and he'd dislocate her arm, but every time she struggled, he knew it'd hurt. He didn't want to do this to her, but sparring and fighting for real were very different things and he needed to stop her before she got any further out of control.
He pretended to ignore the tears in her eyes when she stopped fighting his hold, didn't scold her. It wasn't turning out to be a good day for her, and the last thing he wanted to do was make it worse for her by telling her off. He just let her rub the moisture from her eyes as he collected their things, figuring it was best just to get back to the hotel for now.
"I'm… I'm sorry, Uncle," she mumbled.
"It's okay, Emma. I understand," he told her, trying not to show how exhausted he was right now himself.
Once they got back, unprompted she pulled out the first-aid kit and saw to his face, cleaning him up. The alcohol stung a bit, and he knew the side of his face would probably swell for a bit, but he'd had much worse so just let her try in her own way to make up for it.
He wanted to be there for her, but he wasn't doing much better himself. He couldn't stop thinking about Dean either, and there was not much in the way of refuge for him. She seemed rather attached to her training, and he liked teaching her, but he supposed bad days were to be expected.
Sam had no one to talk to. He had nothing he could say to her about his own pain. She needed him to be strong for her, to weather all of this out. He couldn't sit her down and start to dump on her about his pain. She still didn't even know anything about his past, about Lucifer or the near end of the world. There were basics about angels but she didn't bring it up much, and he had no interest in digging that hole. What would a teen girl be able to say to him to bring him comfort about the darkness that had been chasing him his whole life? So he said nothing, and just let her pour all of her anger and sadness out, supporting her as best he could.
Luckily she did smile at times, wasn't always in a mood. Taking it one day at a time seemed to work the best for both of them, and this would have to be time to do it.
For once, there was nothing chasing after Sam. He hadn't had such an experience since Stanford. There had been finding his dad, then trying to figure out some way to take care of the yellow-eyed demon while the other children he'd infected had come after Sam and Dean. After that it had been a desperate search for a way to save his brother even after he'd died and then finally a way to take his revenge out on Lilith and save the world. The mess of Lucifer, then the alphas and then finally the Leviathans. Years upon years of something being just behind him, nipping at his heels, and finally it felt like he could just breathe. No end of the world crap, no big catastrophe, just normal evil that he could hunt down, fight and then go to bed in relative peace at the end of the day.
Compared to all of that, a teenage girl with grief and anger issues would be much more manageable. Not easy for sure, but it at least it would be possible.
"I should go get lunch for us," she said once she was all done with the kit. "Would you like burgers or pizza?"
"Think you can go to the soup place?" he asked her. "Get some bowls with some bread and drinks?"
"Sure. I'll be back in about an hour," she promised him before giving him a hug that he noticed was very gentle, and headed out.
He sighed and fell back on the bed, wondering if he'd done the right thing. For all he could say that he was thankful that things had slowed down, he missed it at the same time. It might have been insane and crazy, but at least he hadn't been on his own. As much as he cared about the kid, it felt like he'd traded Dean for her, and there were things she'd just never really understand. He felt nostalgic and lost, wondering how well he could honestly pull this off.
It was going to be one of the days they were both a mess, he just knew it. Best to just stay in the hotel for the rest of the day. They'd probably stayed here too long anyway. Tomorrow they should probably check out and get going. Flipping his laptop open, he idly typed a few keys in before giving up. There wasn't anything he wanted to look at anyway, and that was probably for the best.
He didn't honestly know what possessed him to go through the last of the boxes of Bobby's things. Maybe he just needed idle work for his hands. It was a driftless sort of mood, but he needed to do something. It had to be nostalgia that led him to pick out the DVD of the badly made porn, thinking back on the time when he'd been trying desperately to save the world, a priceless hint from Gabriel on the contents. He could still remember back then, with his brother even in a seemingly hopeless situation. It made him feel miss his past more than anything else that had happened to him lately.
The need to pretend, to be back in that moment, it was the only thing that made sense to him to put the DVD into his computer. He wanted to watch it, to be able to remember the moment when he was fighting the world by his brother's side.
The music was soft, setting it low so as to not risk being heard through the thin walls. Explaining away watching porn in the middle of the day, even if it was for purely innocent reasons, was not something he wanted to face today.
He felt a smile tug on his lips when Gabriel walked into the room, offering Kielbasa to the woman in bed. It was so badly acted and corny, so very Gabriel that it made Sam want to laugh. When Gabriel turned to the screen though, he didn't address Sam and Dean, didn't start talking about if they had this then he was dead. He just looked out at the camera, at Sam, shook his head and sighed.
"Heya, Sam. You look awful."
End of Chapter 22
It is FINALLY time for Gabriel. Oh god, I thought I would never get here. Seriously, this many chapters in and I'm only now introducing the second half to the Sabriel ship? I should be drug out to the street and stomped to death for taking so long. Damn my commitment to setting up storylines properly. It can take time, let me tell you. However, now that he is here, expect a lot more of the trickster. Okay, yeah it's just a DVD of him, but there are much more strange ways to interact with someone on this show, so let's just go with it.
One thing I should point out is that this story was getting planned and researched way before the reveal about Loki, so any inconsistencies that come up that contradict season 13, don't worry about them. The direction is going to take a different path for his character, very different, and I didn't see the need to change it just because the canon of the show came along and messed it up. After all, that's kind of the point of fanfiction anyway. Just wanted to point it out so it wouldn't be confusing any readers.