They had seen her before.
A memory, one that the two brother's had buried long ago, tried to resurface the moment they laid eyes on her from their seat in Ellen's small saloon. When she had called and told the boys that they needed to come quick, that there was a problem and that problem came in the form of a beautiful young woman, of course Dean had jumped at the chance without needing further prompting, but Sam had hesitated. He'd heard the last name before, the only name she'd given to Ellen, but he couldn't put his finger on where. He'd tried to get further details from her, but the older woman hadn't given any, just repeated "come quick," in that easy southern drawl of hers and hung up. So, there they were sitting in the back of the old saloon, enveloped by darkness as they watched the woman lean against the bar talking in a low voice to Jo. They had seen her before.
Ellen had made her way to them subtly, pretending she was wiping down their table as she leaned over to them and muttered "I'll try to close this place down shortly so we can get some answers from her." The usually slow bar was filled with men and women tonight, most of them standing around with beers in hand, staring at the woman at the bar right along with Dean and Sam, as if she had lured them all in there. And maybe she had. The woman was beautiful, possibly the most beautiful woman they had ever laid eyes on, and there was a hazy light that floated around her as if offering protection from the leering gazes she appeared oblivious to. Her hair was a rich chestnut brown, it fell in glossy waves down her back, ending right above a perfect ass enclosed in short daisy dukes, long legs bronzed and gleaming just like the rest of her. She had on a plain black tank top that was tucked into the top of her shorts, glimpsing at a set of small, pert breasts that heaved when she laughed at something Jo said. Her laugh sounded forced though, and her eyes strayed from Jo's face when she saw the blonde glance in the direction of the boys, and that was when she looked over too. Her perfect profile was suddenly in their view, all big blue eyes, bow shaped lips, a perfect nose, blemish free skin, sharp cheekbones with softly pink cheeks. Dean couldn't help but shake his head in awe letting a small "whoah" when she looked their way, but Sam didn't say a word as he studied her face. He knew her. He know he did. Her smile didn't reach her eyes, they remained cold and unmoving as if she were boring straight into their soul, and suddenly it hit Sam and he grabbed onto Dean's wrist sharply.
"Parker." He spat the name quietly to his brother and immediately felt the tension rise in him. "That's Emily Parker."
It had been years since they'd seen her, she couldn't have been more then twelve or thirteen at the time but she had been beautiful even then. It had been on a hunt with their father, for a nest of nasty bloodsuckers, she had been with her father, small, delicate, bright eyed, Sam had been so taken with her that his dad had to smack the back of his head to focus on the task at hand. He remembered now why he held such disdain for her, for her father. He was a hunter too, according to John Winchester, one of the best and one of the cruelest. He used his daughter as bait, and Sam remembered now, listening to him tell his father about how he did it, how natural it came to her. "There's something wrong with her," the man had told John, "she ain't quite human. Ain't quite right. But she's a hell of a looker, ain't she?" And the girl had turned at that and smiled at them, perfect straight white teeth, but dead eyes. She enjoyed what they did, she liked to watch, she never killed, but she certainly reveled in the aftermath of it. When the hunt had ended, the girl standing in the midst of them, Sam had remembered feeling so creeped out by them both, and when they'd gotten home, he'd taken the longest shower of his life.
So...what was she doing here?
"What do you think she wants?" Dean's low voice interrupted Sam's train of thought and he shook his head to try to clear it of the image of Emily's smile. "Why would she be here, and where's her old man?" His eyes were troubled, but he didn't say anymore. Just watched her.
It wasn't long before Ellen had made good on her promise. As the saloon emptied of it's last drunken patron, who was still staring lustfully after Emily, Ellen locked the door behind him and turned to face them. " So," she clapped her hands and Dean and Sam finally stood, moving from the shadows to the middle of the room, a subtle square off. "Boys, this is Emily-"
"We know her," Sam interrupted, fixing his eyes on the petite girl's beautiful face again. "Long time, what, ten years? What are you doing here Emily?"
Emily didn't flinch at the height of the men in front of her, barely moved at all, in fact. She slowly straightened her body from the bar, turning to face them head on, and stuck another dead smile to her face. "I should ask you the same thing," her voice was steady, light, as delicate and pretty as she was, unassuming and melodic, but that was all she offered either. Dean bristled slightly, turning to Ellen to ask why she was wasting their time with this girl, when the silence was broken up by the loud ringing of a phone. Jo leapt behind the bar again, picking it up and listening for a second to a low voice on the other end. Sam and Emily continued to stare at each other, unmoving, as Ellen moved around them to pick up the phone from Jo. She listened for a second, then began to speak to.
"Yeah, she's here...yeah, the boys too," there was a long pause, too long for anyone's comfort, before Ellen offered the phone to Dean, "it's Bobby. You need to hear this for yourself."
Dean took the phone, turning away from the small group to listen to what the older man had to say. "Yeah, it's Dean. Bobby, why the hell are you sending us over here for Emily fucking Parker?"
"Dean." The voice on the other end cut through smoothly, leaving no room for an argument. "Jack Parker is dead. No one's quite sure how or what happened, but the girl... There's something you need to know about her, Dean. She isn't safe. And she needs to be. There's a lot to say and unpack, but I can't tell you now, not over the phone. I need you to take her with you, and she must be protected. At all costs."
Dean had opened his mouth to argue, to tell him no way in hell were they going to do that, but something stopped him. The sound in Bobby's voice was different. Strained. "Do it, boy. Don't argue with me. Do it. Take her to the bunker and make sure she stays there. I'm headed out tonight but it'll be awhile before I can get to you."
And the phone went dead, leaving Dean there, no words to get in, nothing, before he finally turned to face them again. Then, plastering the same half assed smile the girl had on, he hung the phone up and spread his hands out. "Looks like you'll be joining us, princess."