Sam and Dean left Emily in the empty room, both of them still catching their breaths from what had just happened moments ago. Dean was tense, Sam was tense, the atmosphere of the house was tense. It felt like a bomb had just been detonated but neither man could fully wrap their head's around the declaration. When they reached the living room, safely out of ear shot, that's when they both began to speak, their voices low and frenzied, fighting to get through their points before Emily decided to rejoin them.
"She's a Nephilim," Sam's jaw was tight, Dean could see the muscle twitching beneath it. "We should've seen the signs, Dean, this whole time I knew there was something about her that seemed..."
"Familiar?" Dean finished the thought for him, rubbing his own hand over his face. "Of course we should've seen it, that glow she gets when she feels like there's danger around, the beauty, the fact that Jack Parker was holding her like a hostage for her whole life until the moment he croaks and she falls into our lap. Why wouldn't Cass tell us? This is big news. This is...this is dangerous."
A protective spark shot through him at the realization of what this all meant. A Nephilim was dangerous, dangerous because they were meant to hunt and trap demons but also because in return they were hunted as well. "He said, he said she's a shield?" Dean's eyes squinted as he tried to work out what that meant. "That her dad couldn't be touched when they were together, so that means that she-"
It was Sam's turn to cut him off, he'd clearly already worked through all of this and it's meaning. "She kept him safe until she didn't. It means that he failed her because he didn't train her. She should've been hunting demons from the time she could walk, but instead they just kind of used her as some sort of human shield. At this point, she should be the most powerful Hunter in the world, but instead she's more mortal than angel. He definitely did her no favors."
"I get why," Dean argued, his voice still tight. "He didn't want her to be in the life the way he was. He may have been selfish, but can you imagine what he was feeling? Losing the mother of his child to God, or Lucifer, or whoever took her away, then the thought they may come back for his daughter too? Or him? Training her would mean losing her to the fight."
They were silent for a moment as Dean's words hung in the air. The fight. The same fight they'd been on for the last few years, and now they had a weapon.
"It's ironic, isn't it?" Sam broke through with a small laugh. "She's half angel, half human, I'm part demon, you're part weapon of God. She couldn't have ended up with a more fitting family."
"Probably why she was meant to come with us and dad before. Jack wasn't keeping his end of the bargain and they saw it. I wonder what happened that day we met her on the hunt," Dean furrowed his brow again, wishing he'd asked more questions. "I'll tell ya one thing though Sammy," it was his turn to let out a small, bitter laugh. "I'm gonna kick Castiel's ass when we see him again."
They spent the rest of the day in the house, Emily packing quietly upstairs, the boys leaving her be as they cleaned up downstairs. Anything of value was put in the back of the Impala, mostly weapons and demon traps they found, and then Emily finally came down with a few suitcases in tow, her clothes in one, toiletries and mementos in the other, and the third holding what was in the safe, pictures of her mom, her dad's journal, and the rest of his money, the boys didn't say anything, just took them from her and packed them too. She didn't speak to the boys, there was too much swirling around in her head, too much anger, too much resentment, too many emotions surrounding the secret that had been finally revealed to them under less than ideal circumstances. She didn't want to know what they thought, didn't want to hear their stammering around about whatever she was, she just wanted to go. She didn't care where they went, as long as it was away from this house.
"Ready?" Sam finally approached her, his hands in his pockets, a sheepish expression on his face. She surveyed him coolly, adopting the defense she'd been using ever since she was a child, ice queen extraordinaire.
"Yep," one word, clipped and tight, before she turned on her heel and left the house behind, going down the steps without even a look backwards. She got in the Impala, shut the door behind her, and got onto her phone.
"So the brat's returned," Dean rolled his eyes, shutting the door behind him and Sam for the final time. "This will be a helluva ride back." The two sighed and glanced to the car where Emily sat sullenly, not looking at either of them. "At least I know now why she gets under my skin so much," he grinned at Sam and jostled him with his shoulder, "and why you've been so buddy buddy with her. Your demon side doesn't want to get his ass kicked."
Sam gave him a look that clearly said to shut it, and Dean just laughed again, heading down to join their now permanent companion in the car and begin the long trip home.
It had been a week of attitude. A week since they'd returned back to the bunker. A week since they'd stopped at Bobby's to fill him in on what was happening, while Emily sat in the car with the same sullen, bored expression on her face that had barely budged since Seattle. Bobby was gracious, he reminded the boys of what a precarious position she was in, that finding out her whole life had been one big "fuck you" basically. It was more than that, though, it was that her dad had lied. Her life had been a lie. Her purpose? A lie. Emily had known what she was, she'd known what her mom was, her dad had never kept that a secret, he spoke about her mom often and with a reverence that only a man in love could hold. The angel's had never visited her either, but she supposed, no she knew now that her dad had been visited. He hadn't told her. He had never told her anything. He kept her safe and sound, locked up, by his side, and she had never known her true purpose or why she was there. Why she couldn't ever be normal. Her dad had been a good man, he had always been kind, he had loved her fiercely, but he had lied to her. So had Castiel. So had the Winchester's dad. No one had ever bothered to clue her in until the Angel had visited and shattered every illusion she had of being free. Of being her own person.
Nephilim. The word played in her mind again and again, turning over and over like a broken record. Demon Hunter. Shadow Hunter. Whatever you wanted to call it, that was what she was. And she was so wholly, wholly unprepared for it. So she remained withdrawn and cold to her companions, not speaking unless absolutely necessary, shutting herself back up in her room, it was like back to the first week she'd been there. She had so much emotional baggage to unpack that she couldn't even begin to figure out where to start with it, and so she just shoved it away, out of her mind, out of her sight. It didn't exist.
"I'm SICK of this!" Dean finally lost it their fifth night back, Emily moodily pushing food around with her fork as they sat at yet another silent meal. Both her and Sam looked up at the outburst, Sam's eyes concerned, Emily's dead. "You!" He threw his fork down and pointed at her, and she stared back, unflinching. "Are going to stop this shit right now, do you hear me?" His voice was rising, but it didn't phase her, and Sam tried to diffuse the situation, looking between the pair with a sort of desperate urgency.
"Hey we don't need to yel-"
"Shut it, Sam!" Dean snapped, and he stood, sharply knocking his chair backwards, the air going silent except for the clattering of the wood hitting the ground. Emily stared at her plate, then calmly set her fork down and pushed her own chair back to stand as well.
"Goodnight," she didn't even make it around the table before Dean was on her, his hand wrapped firmly around her arm, dragging her back with him. She didn't fight him, didn't make another sound, even as Sam's voice cut through the air to argue with Dean, pleading with him to let her go and let it go, but Dean didn't, of course he didn't. It was like being in a dream, Emily could feel them moving, but it was slow motion, she didn't feel his hand on her arm, she didn't feel her feet carrying her toward her room, the boys' voices were drowned out in her ears, the scene was blurry. She closed her eyes and let herself fall into the haze of it all, let her body be pushed across his knees, let the feeling of the air on her ass as he bared her pass by, listened to the dull sound of flesh smacking upon flesh, but she felt nothing. So lost in the realms of her depression, all Emily could do was lay there limply, no sound escaping her lips, no fight in her at all. She just closed her eyes and breathed.
Dean was so enraged and so confused that he didn't know which emotion was stronger as he whaled on Emily's backside, but what he did know was that this wasn't normal. She wasn't doing anything but lying there, even the Emily that got her ass beat the first night they met had put up a hefty fight, so what was this? Dean stopped, letting himself catch his breath and get his anger in check. This wasn't getting him anywhere, wherever Emily had disappeared too, his anger wasn't going to drag her back from.
"Em," he lowered his voice to a gentle murmur, felt her tense below him, the first response he'd gotten from her in a week. "Em, come on. You can't do this, you can't keep doing this, you have to talk to me." She didn't respond, didn't move, but the muscles in her back rippled beneath his arm so he knew she was at least listening. "You can't just shut us out, Emily. We're here and we're here to stay. You need to get it into your thick skull that we're your family now. We know what you're going through, but we can't do anything if you sit around here moping day in and day out." She crossed one ankle over the other, and he knew that his words were finally making an impression. He raised his hand, determined to keep her attention and get her where she needed to be, spanking slowly and methodically as he did so, "I'm not leaving you. Sam isn't leaving you. Your dad did a really shitty thing to you, but you can't hold onto it alone. You need help, Emily. You need to tell us what's going on," he didn't stop spanking, watching really closely for her reactions, for any movement or sound that would let him know she was taking it in.
Emily's mind was a mess, but his words were making it through the fog, family, here, help, alone, all of them swirled into the haze, and she drew in a deep breath as she found herself letting go of the defenses she was holding so tightly onto. The moment she did so, the spanking began to permeate her senses, and she clenched, letting out a small gasp. Dean obviously felt it, heard her, and the spanking got a little harder in response.
"Tell me what's going on, Emily, let it out. Scream, cry, do what you need to do, but we're not. Going. Anywhere." She flinched at the words, all punctuated with a sharp slap to her sore rear. "You're one of us, Emily. You're special. You have a great task ahead of you, and Sam and I are going to help you through it. Because that's what families do, we look out for each other, we help each other, we take care of each other. And I can't take care of you when you shut me out like this."
There were sniffles now, small and quiet at first, but as the spanking continued and Dean's voice beat as steadily into her brain as his hand did on her ass, the curtain was lifted on her. Emily's defenses all but disappeared and she began to cry. Family. Her anger, her sadness, her feelings of betrayal and emptiness, all of it came flooding out and she did nothing but sob, her heart broken. Dean slowed the spanking down, letting her cry for as long as she needed, and when he felt her crumble beneath him, he stopped entirely, pulling her up from her position so he could hold her while she let the tears flow freely.
"I-I-I hate him," she could barely get a coherent word out, but Dean didn't interrupt her or ask her questions, he just held her and let her get the rasping, bitter words out. "I hate that he did this, I hate that I can't ever be normal, I hate that he lied to me. I hate him. I hate him! And I hate you for coming, I hate you for taking me, I hate you for being who you are." Dean's hand remained firm on her back, he didn't flinch at her words, he didn't spit anything back to her, or pull away. "I don't want to be this, Dean. I don't want to be this thing that I am! I don't want any of it. I just want to die," the word was so strong that it almost knocked his breath out, and before she even knew what was happening she found herself flipped back over his thigh, his knee digging into her stomach as he began to spank her again, much to her chagrin.
"No!" His voice was loud now, an almost panicked edge to it that Emily hadn't ever heard before. "Don't EVER say that! Don't you ever wish for something that horrible, Emily, you have no idea what that means. What it means to actually die."
His voice cracked and his hand faltered over the reddened globes, feeling the tightness in his chest growing to an unbearable throb. "You were put here for a reason, because Sam and I need you." He steadied himself and listened to the girl begin to cry again, though he didn't let up on her just yet. "Because we need each other. God doesn't make mistakes, Emily, if he did you would've never found us. That day would've never come."
He stopped again and Emily pushed herself from his knees to the ground below him, her big blue eyes fixed on his face, her cheeks flushed at his words and all of the emotions that were spilling between the two of them. Without thinking, Dean gripped her arms and pulled her to stand with him, and with no further warning, he crushed his lips to hers. Emily didn't pull away, she froze for a half second before it registered in her mind what was happening, and she returned his kiss, her hand coming to rest against the stubbled jaw, her eyes closing. He pulled away, his hand coming to the wrist still resting against his face, and they stared at each other silently, the passion burning in her eyes so brightly that it almost hurt. Dean didn't think any longer, he let his body respond instead, no longer wasting any time as he pulled her shirt above her head and let it fall to the ground beside her jeans and underwear so she was naked again, that glorious body his for the taking. And take it he did.
Stopping there! Big plot twist, what do you think?