Hi everyone, i'm back once again. I almost have 100 reviews for this story! YAY! AND my best friend, Mimi-pon (obviously not her real name) has started to read this story! She is the only person i know personally that reads anything i write. I can share things online like this okay, but not to anyone else. . . it's kinda sad.

Thanks for the reviews, story alert plus, whatever.

and i don't own Supernatural, but I do own Patricia and Emma. WHOO! And, little note, since I wrote this long before the episode 'Heart' I obviously had a different view on werewolves, lol. Maybe if I had seen that episode first I would've written this differently... But I did what I did, and I hope everyone can cope with that. lol.

Please enjoy... oh and... well, never mind you'll figure out while you're reading.

Oh and by the way, there is use of the 'f' word in this chapter! (i don't remember if I used it before this... or if i have, i didn't use it that much...i never do...) For those who don't like that word, just imagine it as something else! Like...FUDGE!

Emma gasped. Uncle Dean couldn't be dead. Nothing could ever kill Uncle Dean. She prayed for him to blink open his eyes, but her hope drained when they didn't even flicker.

Tears began to pour down her face. "Uncle Dean," she whispered in a choked voice. "Uncle Dean!" She stared at Sophie, who was beginning to back away from Dean. "Sophie, what did you do to my Uncle Dean?!" Her heart began to pound faster than she had ever remembered it pounding. She was scared out of her mind, she hadn't ever been this scared in her whole life.

Emma choked out a few more sobs, looking from Uncle Sammy to Uncle Dean and trembling. "How…why did you do that?" she sobbed, pounding her fist on Sophie's back. "Why are you so mean?!"

Sophie began to growl deeply, and turned her eyes onto the little girl.

Emma ignored her and went up to Dean, kneeling down beside him. She could barely see him through all the tears. She didn't know what else to do.

Sophie's eyes bored into her back, her growl growing louder and louder until she let out a long, haunting howl.

Ten minutes or so later, Dean woke up to a terrible headache. His eyelids fluttered, and the first thing he noticed was a low growling.

Dean shot up, eyes darting around for his gun. When he found it, he scooped it up and brought it around…

He saw Sophie… But what made his body freeze up with horror was the bloody remains beside Sophie.

His eyes widened. "No… No, you didn't do that…"

Sophie looked over to him and continued to growl, tensing up for an obvious attack.

Dean glared darkly, steadying his hands as he aimed for Sophie's heart. And in one pull of the trigger, it was all over. Sophie fell onto Emma's torn body, and didn't move.

Dean was paralyzed for a long time. He just stood there, with the gun still in hand, staring at Emma's remains. Then, breaking out of his spell, he let the gun clatter to the floor and dashed over to Emma, shoving Sophie's body aside.

There was not much left—or at least, nothing recognizable. That is, except for the strands of familiar dark blond hair that Dean had liked so much.

Dean touched what was left of her arm, not caring about touching her blood. It was still a little warm. "Em…" He shook his head angrily. If only he hadn't been so uptight about shooting Sophie. If only he hadn't missed when he did shoot her. He had not one, but two opportunities to end this. He had two opportunities to prevent all this from happening.

She had probably died screaming for him to save her… But he didn't. She had probably died wishing he would've shot Sophie sooner. But he didn't.

Dean looked to his shaking hands, seeing them, all covered in her blood. He might as well have murdered her himself. He took a shaky breath.

He might have broken down, right there. He could've let his emotions get the better of him, could've thrown things and screamed and shoot that bitch who killed his little girl another hundred times, until that damn werewolf looked just as torn as he felt. He could've done all that, but he remembered Sam.

He spotted Sam on the other side of the room, still unconscious. He kneeled beside his little brother and wiped his bloody hands on his jeans. He was horrified to see Sam's blood, from four bloody cuts down his chest. They didn't look deep enough to require stitches, but they would definitely be hurting for a while.

Dean looked at his own stinging shoulder, where Sophie had clawed him before.

Ugh, gross, he thought, peeling his shirt from the bloody wound and carefully fixing his jacket so the wound would remain hidden. He then turned his attention back to Sam.

"Sam, wake up," Dean urged, nudging his brother. "Sammy, come on, man…" He wished his voice didn't sound so weak right about then.

Sam groaned as he cracked open his eyes. "Dean?" His eyebrows furrowed when he noticed the pain flaring on his chest. "Damn…"

Dean swallowed hard. "Are you okay, Sammy?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah, m'fine. Did we get it?"

Dean's eyes left his and he nodded slowly. "Yeah…yeah we did…"

Sam pulled himself into a sitting position, taking a good long look at the cuts across his chest. When he looked back at his brother, he instantly knew something was wrong. Though Dean was very skilled at hiding anything that was bothering him, Sam could always tell when Dean was fighting to keep the façade up. And Dean was fighting for his life.

"Something happened." It wasn't a question. Sam knew it.

Dean's eyes drifted across the room to Emma's remains. "Something…," he agreed, quietly.

Sam craned his neck to look over Dean's shoulder, and it was once he laid eyes on the bloody mess when he realized what had happened.

Instead of offering an explanation, Dean offered his brother a helping hand, bringing Sam to his feet after getting to his.

Dean began to walk out the bedroom door, only stopping when Sam began to speak.

"What do we do?" Sam asked. He was afraid to ask about Emma, Dean noticed with dark amusement. That was a good thing.

"We call the police," Dean replied, not turning.

"The police?"

"Yeah, Sam, the police. We just say that we heard screaming, and found Peter and…and Emma already dead. We saw the creature that killed them, and being officers of the law ourselves, shot it." Dean shrugged halfheartedly. "Just another one of our cover stories."

"Dean, what—?"

"And I have to tell Patricia what happened…"

"Don't worry about it. We'll bring her home safely."

Dean inwardly flinched at his own words. What would he say to her now? How could he tell Patricia that her only child was dead, and that he didn't protect her?

"Dean…?"

Dean continued to walk forward. "Let's go, Sam."

"No way, Dean!"

"Uh, yeah way."

"There is no way in hell I'm going to let you tell her alone! It was our responsibility, not just yours!"

Dean grit his teeth. "Sam, I'm going alone."

Sam frowned. "Dean, I'm not just going to let you do this alone. It'll be too hard. If we're both there, then…"

"No means no, Sam."

"But, Dean!"

"No."

"Dean, be serious here."

"I am being dead fucking serious, Sam."

Sam took a deep breath. "Dean… Come on, man, j—"

"Sam, no."

"You didn't even let me finish!"

"'Come on, man, just let me help you out'," Dean mocked. "I'm not in the fucking mood for your shit right now, Sam. Just let me handle this on my own!"

Sam opened his mouth, almost frustrated enough to voice a few choice phrases himself, but snapped his mouth shut. Dean was probably going through hell right now… He was probably just making it worse. He shook his head. Maybe he should let Dean go by himself, since it was what he wanted to do. But Sam didn't like it, he'd feel so much better if he was in there backing Dean up. He let out a long sigh. "Fine."

When they came back to Patricia's house, Sam sat in the car and watched as his brother went up to the front door and rang the doorbell.

Patricia opened up the door, and Sam then saw Dean pitch forward a long explanation that Sam couldn't even hope to hear. He then saw Patricia's face crumble away into something akin to horror. The woman began to cry heavily, slowly backing into the house before slamming the door in Dean's face. It wasn't as if Sam really expected that she'd forgive them, but now he knew for sure that they would be staying in a motel that night.

Dean stood there for a long time, just staring at the door blankly, and for a minute, Sam wondered if he had to go get him. But just as he was reaching for the door handle, Dean slowly began to walk back to the car.

When Dean got back into the car, he remained wordless. He was silent the whole trip to a nearby motel, and Sam didn't even try to ask any questions. He knew something must have happened… He knew that normally, Dean would have never let anything near Emma, or anyone else he cared about. He would have protected her with his life, but he got away with her dead and him only a few bruises, as far as Sam could tell. Little did he know that Dean was carefully trying not to favor his left shoulder. He only drove with his right hand, but Sam didn't really notice.

It must have been something simple. Sophie could have knocked Dean out just as easily as she knocked me out, Sam thought to himself. It was the most logical explanation, but Sam wasn't sure what to think.

When they got to the motel and checked in, Dean helped Sam bandage up his chest—it was a lot harder than he thought. Trying to do it without showing any pain from his shoulder was hard as hell, but he managed.

One of the reasons Sam didn't notice was because he was much to preoccupied with the awkward silence between himself and his brother. He stared at the ground as Dean helped him. But he finally took a deep breath, pulling on his shirt and asking, "Are you hungry?"

Dean shot him a glance. How could Sam be thinking about food after seeing a little girl torn apart like that? But then again, they could eat after seeing just about anything and everything else. But food was the last thing on Dean's mind. All he could think about was what had just occurred. He couldn't get Patricia's face out of his head. The way she had looked at him, when he told her that he had failed her…

"Dean?" Sam asked tentatively.

Dean swallowed. "Um, no, not really."

"Oh," Sam replied quietly. "Because, you know, I was kind of thinking about getting some dinner…"

"That's okay, Sam. Go ahead. I'll stay here. I'm kinda tired anyway."

Sam stood and went over to the door, his hand hovering over the doorknob. "You sure you don't want anything?"

Dean thought about it for a while, and then nodded. "Yeah, I'm sure. Not now, okay?"

Sam hid a frown. Ever since Dean came back, he had been looking a little on the thin side. Sam knew he had realized this before, but he had put his worry on hold for this hunt, hoping that maybe this had been his imagination. Now the worry was back, backed with brand new worry, and if all that worry wore out, he knew he could think of a million more things to worry about.

Eventually, he eased open the door, only muttering an "Okay…" in acknowledgment before leaving.

Dean let out a short sigh once Sam was gone. He strode to the bathroom and tore off his shirt. This was definitely a time to take advantage off. He grabbed the first-aid kit and sat himself on the toilet, taking a look at his shoulder. Four deep cuts were etched from the top of his shoulder to his collarbone. He wondered if they needed to be stitched. After poking around at them for a second, he decided not. Okay, so maybe it would help if they were stitched, but they weren't bad enough that they needed stitches. It would be hard as hell to stitch his own shoulder, anyway.

So he carefully cleaned the wounds and wrapped his shoulder. He closed his eyes briefly, letting the burning of his shoulder be the only thing on his mind. It hurt, yeah. But he deserved it. He actually deserved a lot worse, for what he let happen.

Dean opened his eyes, because now all he could see was Emma's face. He unconsciously squeezed his shoulder to take it away.

Now as long as Sam didn't find out about his shoulder, it'd be fine.

When Sam awoke a few mornings later, he quickly realized that Dean was not in his bed. He glanced at the clock. Damn, it's ten already…, he thought.

He wasn't really surprised that Dean had gone out. His brother had been going out a lot since the other night—mostly just going to bars, claiming that he was going to win them some money. Sam was worried, and tried going with his brother when he could, but… Dean seemed to take joy in the fact that he could sneak away from Sam when he was sleeping—because that's always when he'd leave.

Sam sat up in his bed and rubbed his eyes. "Goddamn it, Dean…"

Only a minute later, the door opened and Dean walked inside. But to Sam's complete and utter surprise, Dean was all dressed up in a suit, and was tightening his tie as he walked in. He dumped a bag of muffins on a nearby table, and finally walked into the bathroom and closed the door behind him.

That was another thing that didn't surprise Sam. Dean hadn't talked to him much over the past few days. Sam didn't push his luck—or, at least, he didn't push it just yet.

Sam sat there for a moment, still recovering from the shock of seeing his brother dressed up, before asking, "What's with the suit, Dean?"

The bathroom door opened again and Dean stepped out. "Em's funeral is today. We're going… Or, I guess, I can go alone if you want to stay here."

Sam shook his head. "No, I'm coming too." And he quickly got up and began to get ready.

When the brothers arrived at the graveyard, Dean hung back from the small crowd, and Sam stayed right by his side. They could see Patricia among the crowd, and they knew they were in the right place.

Sam glanced to his brother, who still stood in his place, safely away from any other person. It was obvious that they hadn't been formally invited.

Twenty or so minutes later, the crowd began to dissipate, leaving only Patricia behind. It was only when Dean was sure everyone else was far away when he walked up to where Patricia stood.

Patricia was sobbing silently, and didn't seem to notice their approach.

Dean dug around in his pocket, and finally offered her a handkerchief.

Her eyes widened when she realized that Dean was there, and didn't take what Dean had offered. Her mouth worked for a moment, nothing but dead air coming out. Dean wasn't sure how she could even tell if it were them, since her eyes were full with tears.

"We're…very sorry for you loss," Sam said, calmly and quietly. It sounded lame, he thought, considering.

Dean shot him a glance, as if just remembering that he was there with him. He then turned his gaze back to Patricia. "God, Patricia…," he began, swallowing hard. "I'm so sorry…"

"You should be!" Patricia sobbed. "You told me that you'd protect her! You told me that she'd be safe! You—you were supposed to protect her and now she's dead because you didn't!"

Dean looked down and took it like a blow—unflinching and pretending it didn't hurt. Such was the Winchester way.

Sam stepped forward, opening his mouth to say something in Dean's defense, but Dean shot him a look that shut him up.

"Look," Dean finally said, quietly. "You know if I could go back… I'd save Em… I would h—"

Dean didn't get to finish his sentence, for Patricia smacked him full across the face.

"Don't—! Don't call her 'Em' like you were her best friend! How could this have happened?" she sobbed. "First my husband, and now her! She was so precious to me! She was all I had! What did I do to make God hate me this much?!"

"I'm sorry," Dean whispered, not knowing what else to say.

"That's all you have to say? You're sorry?" The tears kept pouring down Patricia's face, but Dean could still make out her accusing eyes.

He tried to give her the handkerchief again, and out of sheer annoyance of him continuing to offer it to her, she snatched it from him and wiped her face.

"Just go away," she hissed. "Leave me alone!"

Dean stood there for a moment longer, but then led Sam away from the weeping woman and walked back to the car.

I know... it's terrible... POOR EMMA! I'm considering having her make a cameo appearance...in...something (I don't know what yet).. Mostly because I liked her character and would like to use her again. And it was really easy to picture her as twenty years old or something... (oddly) But I'm really glad that people liked her character! I'll have to tell that to the little girl that inspired Emma. "You're a star!" lol

And if anyone's been wondering about Dean not eating very well... (Kitiaria! and others...) It'll all be revealed hopefully in two or three chapters... i think... lol... don't worry, it's nothing life-threatening... i mean, unless he stops eating all together... which he hasn't...lol...

Popo's really, really sad about Emma's death, and he needs some clicks to cheer him up...

I'll be back...sometime soon i hope! haha...ha...