They didn't talk about it again.

A few weeks had passed since they'd slept together, and neither of them brought it up, or looked much at each other, or spoke really. Emily had been a bit of a mess the first few days afterward, avoiding Dean at all costs, making excuses to spend most of her time with Sam instead. If Sam knew, he didn't give any inclination that he did, and bless him for it because Emily was not ready for that conversation. Dean let it go, much like Sam he gave no inclination that anything had happened, he spent some time gathering inventory of their weapons and talking to Bobby on the phone for potential leads. They began leaving the bunker more, going to a few local jobs where the boys could test out what it meant to bring her along, easy stuff that Emily knew was for their benefit more than hers, before the time came for them to get back on the road. Emily was a bit sad to leave the bunker behind, but at the same time, there was a great sense of freedom in the idea of traveling. She knew the boys had been stunned by the implications of her on hunts, seeing her work was something of an art. They made their kills easily, all it took was a raise of her hand and the creatures couldn't touch them, no matter what they tried. Demon's were trickier because there was an attraction there, dark and dangerous, under the surface, a tense and delicate balance. They were fascinated by her, and she by them. She could feel when they were in a room, all she had to do was take a deep breath and their scent would hit her and she could point them out. Of course Dean and Sam had their own way of hunting, brute strength and wit, they took pride in their fights and their weapons, and it was thrilling to watch them in action. Her dad had always been straightforward, find the evil, get it alone, kill it, be gone. With the boys, they liked to fight, they liked to hunt, to stalk and be satisfied with a good day's work. It was very different to have Emily there. Boring almost.

But now they were back on the road full time. Cases came in and they went. Town to town, motel to motel, they all blurred together after awhile. And still, Emily and Dean didn't talk. Only when necessary, only when Sam was around. Dean hadn't laid a hand on her, but she hadn't given him much reason to either, and without even realizing it, Emily found herself starting to miss it. She missed bossy Dean, she missed when he cared enough to haul her over his knee, she missed touching him and smelling him, the thought of his lips on her neck haunted her dreams, and she woke up in a cold sweat most nights now. It was worse when they had cases that involved women, pretty women, plain women, women with uncomplicated lives beyond the random horror that brought them to their town, ones that Dean flirted shamelessly with, who so often he'd disappear with for a few hours. It made her blood boil, jealousy would course through her veins and she would have to disappear herself, to calm down.

It went on like that for three weeks.

And then they had made it to Rhode Island, a small town that had popped onto Sam's radar that seemed to be having a problem with a Poltergeist. The town was on the coast, the smell of salt sea air, fish, and sun, it all reminded her so much of Washington that she ached, but she didn't let it show. They found a cute bed and breakfast that had two rooms available and checked in, allowing time to clean themselves up and then reconvene downstairs to talk about the case. That was when the trouble started. Trouble's name was Cindy, or Cynthia, or something with "sin" in it and Emily knew right away that she was just Dean's type. She was the oldest daughter of the elderly couple who'd been having trouble with the house she had moved them into, and she was sweet, tall and blonde, with striking cheekbones and pretty brown eyes. She had looked the three of them over, and her eyes had lingered on Emily inquisitively, trying to size up her competition, or potential threat, and Dean had noticed and smirked. "This is my brother, Sam," he'd introduced them one by one, "and I'm Dean, and this is my sister, Emily." The word "sister" had made the woman relax visibly, and from there, she'd been much warmer to them all, and especially to Dean.

Emily could feel the anger boiling.

Cindy-Cynthia flirted shamelessly as she showed them around the town and then took them to the house where her parent's lived. "We just don't know what it could be," she was telling Dean, the pair of them a few steps ahead of Sam and Emily. Sam could feel the tension rolling off of the girl next to him, and he reached over to put a casual arm around her shoulders, giving her arm an affectionate, but warning squeeze. "Relax," he whispered in her ear, and Emily knew she was caught and, embarrassed, dropped the attitude. She barely concentrated on anything the rest of the day, even as she felt the spirit in the house, as the boys made up a story about why the family needed to leave for a night or two so they could "fumigate," then it spilled over when Cindy-Cynthia asked Dean to dinner and he said yes.

That's when she began stewing.

That night, when Dean had returned and it was time to go take care of the spirit in the house, Emily had been rising from jealous annoyance to jealous anger. It rolled off of her in waves as she sat in the back of Impala sullenly, Sam and Dean chatting obliviously up front until they reached the old coastal home and it was time to put the plan in action. Emily would draw the poltergeist out, and hold it so Dean and Sam could dispose of it. Easy-peasy, a job that would take mere minutes if they were lucky. But all Emily could think about was Dean touching that woman, Dean smiling at her, flirting with her, kissing her on their date. The anger rose. They entered the house and Dean smiled back at her and nodded towards the stairs and Emily went, one foot after the other, until she reached it. She could smell the spirit and it took nothing to hold up her hand and make him appear. Dean and Sam approached, ready to go in for the kill, and that was when Emily turned around, dropped her hand, and left the room. She heard the thud as the poltergeist, knowing it was released from it's bond, attacked. Heard the surprised yell from Sam, and then the sound of a scuffle as they tried to figure out where the spirit was since they couldn't see it. She listened for a few, long moments as the Poltergeist did his thing, and then she re-entered to assess the damage. Both boys were bleeding, Dean from his mouth and brow, Sam from a nasty gash on his forehead, and Emily figured they'd had enough and held her hand up again. Immediately, the spirit's form appeared and before either boy had time to react, she stepped towards the ghost and disposed of it herself.

"What the HELL?" Dean's voice rose above the sudden silence, Sam was panting hard, holding a hand up to the blood now running into his eye. Emily ignored Dean and went to the taller brother, feeling bad that he'd been collateral damage to the lesson she'd wanted to teach the hotheaded slut behind her, pulling a rag from her pocket so she could dab at his wound. "Emily!" Dean's voice was sharp and as he seemed to recover from the beating he'd just taken, he came at her, grabbing her arm to force her to face him. "I asked you a question! What the hell was that? Why?"

She wrenched her arm from his grasp, her stare cold and her voice just as icy, "What? You can't handle a little old Poltergeist without me? You wanted a little excitement, didn't you? Well you're welcome." The fake smile he hated so much touched her pretty little mouth as she turned around, and Dean saw red.

"Of course we could handle it!" He roared and even Sam winced at the sound, still dabbing his wound with the rag Emily had provided. "But that wasn't part of the plan, you little bitch!" His hand shot out again and Emily was barely fast enough to avoid his grab, spinning to face him with venom in her eyes now.

"Oh, but Cynthia was part of the plan?" She hissed back, all of the anger boiling over now. "Or Erika? Or Annie? Or Denise? Were they all "part of the plan" you selfish prick?"

Sam's eyes were wide and he stared between the two of them with such confusion that it was almost comical. "Wait, what is going on here?" He cut in, raising an eyebrow at Dean who's eyes were practically bugging out of his head in rage. "Emily, are you...are you jealous?" He almost choked on the words and the implication hung heavy in the air between the three of them as Emily let out a loud, derisive snort.

"Jealous? God no, you can whore yourself out to whoever you want," she spat the words at Dean before pushing past the two of them towards the door. "You don't mean anything to me," she pointed at Dean who's shoulders were heaving in what was an apparent effort not to reach out and punch her. "And you needed a reminder of that."

And without another word, she was gone.

"I'm going to kill her." Dean breathed out to a still very confused Sam.