Chapter 4

Of course, they left him behind.

Dad came back from his hunt, sweaty and bleeding and excited as hell. He'd gotten a good lead. Now that he knew what the thing was and where it was headed, he only needed another man to help kill it. Sam wanted to point out that Dean wasn't a man. He was fifteen years old, and couldn't Dad go hunt his stupid monsters by himself?

Sam could have wheedled Dean into staying. All he had to do was come up with some lame excuse like he was afraid of the dark, and Dean wouldn't have left him. But Dean was so excited. They'd been waiting for this, and Sam wasn't any better at saying "no" to Dean than Dean was at saying "no" to Sam.

So he ended up alone in the godawful cabin, listening to the forest howl and moan and screech outside. The Navy .45 was still under Dean's pillow, Sam had his own hunting knife in his pocket, and Dad had left a sawed off loaded with rock salt propped by the door. It wasn't like they'd left him unprotected.

But he was lonely, and Emily was stuck outside. He could feel her presence out there, and all he had to do was break the salt line, and she could come in and keep him company.

Yet, he'd already decided he needed to give her up. It had to be wrong to be friends with a ghost. It just wasn't normal, even in any freakish Winchester definition of normal, and he just couldn't keep more secrets from Dean. But he wouldn't tell them. The idea of her being gone forever just seemed too terribly sad.

He needed something to pass the time, but his books were all out in the car. Dad had taken the keys, sarcastically saying he didn't trust Sam not to take off in the car, seeing as how he was raising a juvenile delinquent and all. Dean hadn't managed to come up with a great cover story for all the cuts and bruises, and Dad had figured out that Sam screwed up again. Picking the lock to the Impala so he could read Treasure Island would not go over well.

So Sam climbed up onto Dean's bunk and stretched out, feeling the gun's bulk under the pillow. He wondered how Dean could sleep with it there. It was probably something you got used to, but it made Sam's neck hurt.

Sam tried closing his eyes, reciting the states and their capitals and then moved on to chanting the periodic elements. He tried to remember all the names of the stars that Emily had taught him. Sam wondered if there was a merit badge for being a geek. Dean would never let it go if he knew what Sam resorted to at night to get to sleep. He didn't care. It gave him something to do while he waited for his father and brother to come back to him alive.

That's when he heard it. A scratching at the door. It was Emily. Sam knew it, but for the first time, he didn't want to answer. He had to say no. Just couldn't do this any more. He was going to be as normal as he could, and normal kids didn't have ghosts for friends.

But she was persistent. Scratching turned into pounding and pounding turned into a window-rattling violent enough to impress a poltergeist. If Emily broke a window, Dad would definitely blame it on him. Swearing he was going to end this, Sam climbed down from the bunk, opened the door, and toed a break in the salt line at the threshold. He stepped back and let her in.

Emily didn't waste any time coming in, but something was different. She didn't even look like herself. She looked older than him…hell, she looked older than Dean. Emily didn't look much like a pretty little girl any more.

"You've got to come with me. John and Dean are in trouble. They're about to find what they're looking for, and we need to get there first."

John?

She'd never used his dad's first name before.

Sam shook his head, trying to clear his vision. She looked so different, but it was her. He'd know her anywhere.

"No. I'm dangerous to them if I leave the cabin. I'm a distraction."

She grabbed for his hand. "You're not a distraction, Sam. You're the main event. This thing wants you, not them."

He dug in his heels, but she was awfully strong. He could feel power ebbing and flowing from her. There were reasons Dad said not to fool around with things you don't understand.

"That doesn't make sense. I don't even know what it is. How can it want me?"

"John knows it wants you. That's why he won't bring you along on hunts. Think, Sam. How old was Dean when he started hunting?"

Sam couldn't remember a time when Dean hadn't been a hunter. The only reason Dad left Dean behind was to stay with him. Emily was standing too close to him, her features blurry like a picture out of focus.

"Listen to me. I was wrong. I wanted to keep you safe. I wanted you to know what it was like to be a normal boy. But if anything happens to them, you won't ever get over it."

"I'm going to be normal," Sam said. "I am. I can be."

Emily closed her eyes. "I'm sorry, Sam."

"You're just like him. Dad won't tell me anything."

She shook her head and looked so different. "John always was big on denial."

"Who are you?" he shouted.

The way she'd said his father's name… there was a history behind it, and Sam didn't know what it was. But it was beginning to be very clear that Emily was anything but an ordinary little dead girl.

Emily was fingering the charms on her bracelet. For the first time, Sam took a good look at it. He didn't know why he hadn't before, but jewelry just wasn't something he was into. The bracelet was heavy with crosses, amulets, and a talisman… not a typical charm bracelet that grieving parents would have buried with their daughter. It was a stupid civilian mistake not to have noticed it before

Sam pulled his hand away from hers and crossed his arms. "Were you a hunter?"

Emily looked irritated with him for the first time. "It doesn't matter what I was. This isn't why I came, and we're running out of time. They're going to catch up with it soon. I'm so sorry."

"Who are you?" He took a step back.

"I don't matter. But you do. It's always been about you, Sam. You're the one who can save them."

Sam felt unwelcome tears well up in his eyes. "How can I save them? Why should I trust you? I don't even know what this thing is."

"It doesn't matter. Please, Sam. It's…I don't know its name, but it's evil. They're going to die, and it'll be for no reason. There's only one thing – your blood--that can save them."

"My blood?" Sam swiped his sleeve across his face. He was a Winchester, and Dad had raised him better than this. "Am I going to die?"

"You are not dying tonight. I will be right behind you. I won't let anything happen to you. But you have to trust me."

Sam felt like the worst kind of fool for believing that anything could be as simple as a ghost wanting a friend. If Dad or Dean died, none of it would matter any way. Sam might as well be another doomed ghost clanging his chains in the woods at night.

He made his decision when he reached for his jacket. Dean wouldn't want him to go outside without it.

TBC