Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

As soon as her thoughts wander, or she hears the word home, Emma thinks about a house, in the city. Her mom and she inhabited it for a day. She plays in her mind the few moments when they lived there, when the world was nothing but her and her mom, comfort and safety. 

She could never go back there.

She should think about the Mother Island, where the Amazons live away from the world. Their leader told them tales about it. She keeps saying they’ll be allowed into their real home once they’ll prove themselves.

Emma isn’t eager to.

She interrupts her thoughts before remembering another scene that happened in her home, tiptoeing around the betrayal of her tribal destiny. It’s one thing to think in human family units—Amazons are supposed to be all mothers and daughters and sisters, all daughters of Harmonia; they shouldn’t favor a blood-relative—it’s another to think about a stranger, a man, to whom she owes nothing.

(Almost nothing.)

Emma’s wrist pulses and her thoughts stop in their tracks. At last. She lowers her eyes on her mark. The symbol branded in her flesh should prove she’s a warrior now, but she doesn’t feel any different.

Emma raises her head and glances around her, sure her guilty thoughts are showing on her face. She does her best to keep her face blank but she isn’t sure she’s skilled for it.

The other Amazons are holding themselves straight, waiting in a patient line. They are girls, born two days ago like her, but they obey so easily, so instinctively... the complete opposite of her.

The door opens. Emma suppresses a flinch and straightens her spine, like the others. Their leader walks in. She left less than an hour ago, yet Emma almost forgot how impressive and suffocative her presence is. The duty and the destiny of the Amazons weight once more on Emma’s shoulders. She feels too young and too frail to carry something so heavy.

The leader’s eyes roam over them and pause on Emma. Emma does her best to not fidget. Warriors do not fidget. They know how to hold their ground and bear the looks of their peers.

“You learnt how to endure pain.”

Emma did not. In fact, she was the only one to flinch and whimper. She’s the only one still grimacing because of her wrist.

She’s a failure, and she isn’t sure she’ll ever be something else.

“The time has come for you to learn how to inflict it. It is the time of your blood mission, to prove you belong to us and you are worthy of Harmonia’s gift.”

Emma doesn’t take her eyes off the leader while she explains them their last trial and the ritual they’ll have to accomplish. The leader’s gaze often falls on Emma, searching something, assessing her. Because she never obeys quickly enough. She always has to be pushed while the others obey, as simple as that.

The leader looks at her.

Emma holds her gaze.

An ill-founded worry worms its way in her mind. The leader doesn’t know about the memory. Emma never allows herself to think about it, much less to talk about it.

The leader talks about cutting hands and feet, carving their sigil in a chest, all the while their fathers are still alive–

Emma forces the memory away. She can’t think about the soft smile and the gentle voice, especially with the leader watching her and explaining them their duty.

She wants to check the reaction of her sisters but she can’t look away from the leader. She knows what she’ll find on their faces anyway.

Utter indifference.

That’s how they are since the very first day.

That’s how Amazons are.

Emma longs to become like them. Everything will be easier then. The moment keeps being pushed back. But she’s an Amazon, so it’ll happen...

...right?

What happens to Amazons who are different? Defective?

The leader resumes her explanations, taking her eyes off Emma, pacing slowly in front of their line. Emma feels lighter.

“I will show you what you’ll have to do.”

The door opens and an Amazon drags a man into the room. He isn’t defending himself. His eyes are closed and his limbs unmoving. Like everytime she spots an Amazon, Emma’s eyes dart to her face, hoping to recognize her mother. Like everytime, she’s disappointed.

The Amazon drops the man on the ground and hails their leader before turning on her heels and walking out. The door slams shut behind her.

“You’ll have to catch your fathers off guard and incapacitate them. Men are weak. They pose no challenge. They never expect to be in danger and have to think before having the idea to defend their lives.”

The leader produces a knife. She walks to the man.

“Cutting off your tie with the world of men is the first present you will give to Harmonia. You’ll be offering yourself to the tribe and proving your commitment to your ancestors.”

The leader kneels next to the man. She uses her knife to cut his hands then his feet. It’s a long, tedious work. She’s so engrossed in her task that Emma dares to glance at her sisters. They’re watching the scene with their usual indifference. She wonders if they happen to feel and think too much sometimes, like her. She doubts it.

She looks back at the scene, not wanting the leader to single her out. The leader always finds reasons to, but it doesn’t mean Emma has to make it easy for her.

The leader lifts her head. Her eyes find Emma first, before surveying the others. Emma is a separate case and she isn’t allowed to forget about it, if only for a moment.

“Then, you’ll have to dedicate your sacrifice to Harmonia.”

The leader thrusts the knife in the man’s chest, carving the brand of Harmonia in his flesh.

Emma blinks and a weird picture appears under her eyelids. She lying in the man’s place, like a sacrifice, the leader using the same knife to carve into her.

The brand on her wrist burns. Emma can’t help but squeeze it, trying to stifle the sensation. Her palm presses her wrist but it doesn’t change a thing. She feels like it’s burning. But it’s not. She can feel the exact lines of Harmonia’s symbol while, when it has been burnt into her arm, the pain has pulsed through her whole arm.

The leader raises her head, not in the least surprised. “Emma,” she calls in a flat tone.

Emma lets go of her wrist and lets her arms fall at her sides. The leader stares before finishing the brand. It looks even more grotesque carved in someone’s chest. Or maybe it’s the fact his limbs are separated from him. A picture surges in her mind. It’s not her anymore, in place of the man, but another man. Bile rises in her throat. It’s not the time to think about it. It’d never be the time to think about it.

The leader rises to her feet.

“Then you’ll bring back to us the proof of your success,” she says, showing the cut hands and feet. “This is the last step you have to take before joining us and assume your rightful place among your sisters.”

The door opens once more. An Amazon walks in, carrying a tray. She’s not Emma’s mom either. It seems that she won’t see her again before the Mother Island... if she ever sees her again. Emma lowers an uneasy glance to the tray. There aren’t pieces of meat on it, but five golden knives.

The leader nods. The Amazon advances toward the first girl in their line. Emma doesn’t know her name. She doesn’t know anyone else name. The others don’t have to be called to order.

“Those blades are in your image: weapons that haven’t spilled blood yet.”

The first Amazon picks up a knife.

“Together, you’ll have your first kill.”

The tray moves toward the second girl, who does the same.

“Together, you’ll offer your first sacrifice to Harmonia.”

Then to the third. It’s Emma’s turn next. She forces herself still. She stares the contents of the tray, her hands itching at her sides.

“Together, you’ll come back as accomplished warriors... Take the knife, Emma.”

Emma meets the leader’s eyes. Something compels her to wait before obeying, like always. Her heart beats three times. She holds her hand to the fourth knife and picks it up. The leader holds her gaze a moment longer. Emma tightens her grasp on the knife, trying to feel what the leader wants her to feel, what the other Amazons feel.

The leader looks the next Amazon. The tray advances to her.

“The time has come for you to free yourself from mankind weakness, to prove you worth more than them and that Harmonia was right to give you a chance.”

Emma stiffens. The words are as many blows aimed at her.

“Tonight, you will become one of us.”

The Amazon with the tray steps back.

“As soon as the sun will be set, you’ll complete your blood missions and join us as real Amazons. Then, we’ll go back home.”

It’s not my home, Emma thinks guiltily.

“Follow me,” the leader commands.

She walks out of the room and they comply. Even Emma doesn’t hesitate this time. She’d like to be proud of it, but something tells her it has more to do with the dead man on the floor than a sudden embrace of her destiny.

They step into a corridor. The building is large, with many rooms and hallways they haven’t explored. They aren’t supposed to want to. They should be obeying orders without question, seeing locked doors without wondering what is hiding behind.

(Emma always does.)

Their leader stops in front of a door, down the hallway. She looks at them.

“You’ll come in one after the other. I’ll hand you the informations you need about your fathers. Then you’ll return into your rooms and prepare yourselves. Rest. Plan your fight. It’s the last time you’ll stay within these walls.”

Emma’s heart misses a beat. She doesn’t like this place, and she won’t miss it. She isn’t safe here, and safety is important for her—another way she fails. But she isn’t ready to leave it.

She isn’t ready to go to the Mother Island.

The leader looks at her and Emma wonders if she did the mistake to tell it outloud.

“Go on the end of the line, Emma. You’ll be the last.”

Emma is rooted to her spot for six heartbeats. She steps back. The next Amazon steps before her. Emma doesn’t know why she has been singled out this time and it’s worrying. She tries to not let her imagination get the best of her but she fails, as she fails so many things. It’s not so much she pictures some future horrible thing happening to her than she pictures nothing. She shouldn’t. Amazons have one path ahead of them. You are born. You stay with your mother until you’re grown enough to be trained. You learn about the ways of the Amazons. You perform rituals, cutting the ties that shouldn’t exist between you and the human world. You spend two years on the Mother Island learning everything you need. You’re sent back into the human world to make your army grow and have daughters of your own. It repeats every two years until you’re out of age and sent to infiltrate human ranks and keep an eye on them for your sisters. Or you die in a battle.

Everything is known beforehand.

And yet, Emma can’t see her own future.

The first Amazon goes in and out of the room without Emma being aware of it. Emma comes back to her senses only when she walks past her.

“Next.”

The second Amazon walks in the room. The others move up a place, so does Emma. Her worry increases with every passing second. It flares up when their line shortens. Emma sees the Amazons entering and leaving the room one after another, until she’s in front of the door, alone in the hallway.

The door opens. The last of her sisters walks out. She bypasses her and her footsteps soon vanish. Emma doesn’t dare turning around to watch her walk away. Her attention is on the open door, and the leader sitting behind a desk. Their eyes meet, as always.

“Next,” she says.

Emma can’t tell if the leader not saying her name is a good or a bad thing. She steps forward.

“The door.”

Emma closes the door. She notices an Amazon, standing in a corner of the room, hands behind her back. She recognizes her. She’s one of the Amazons who picked her up at her home.

Emma faces the leader again.

“Your situation is different. Unique.”

Fear squeezes Emma’s heart. A memory jumps into her mind.

A smile. A hand reaching out to her. Hi, Emma.

They can’t know this. Well... they certainly know it happened. Her mom gave her to them without hesitation. She wouldn’t have made the mistake to not inform them Emma’s father visited them after her birth and talked with her. But it’s impossible that the leader know how that single and meaningless memory plagues Emma’s mind.

“Your father is a hunter.”

Emma’s shoulders slump. It’s not about her meeting her father before the blood mission. She doesn’t know what being a hunter entails and she has to swallow back the questions rushing in her mind. She thinks first about the huntress Diana and wonders if her father is somehow related to her. Emma doesn’t know much about the other gods and she heard about Diana only because she disagreed with Harmonia and Ares. If her father is bound to another goddess than Harmonia, it’d explain why she’s struggling when things are so easy for the others.

“Hunters are humans, and like all humans, they refuse the order of things. They fight against it, against us. They’re immoral monsters, who want to kill us all. This one is tracking us. He may have guessed Lydia is one of us.”

Is Mom alright?

Emma bites the inside of her cheek before uttering the words out. The leader narrows her eyes.

“Unlike the other humans, hunters have some fighting skills and are still aware of our world. Your kill will be more difficult than your sisters’.”

Emma thinks about the man with his soft smile. It’s hard to imagine him as anything similar to the Amazons. Then she remembers her mom is one of them too. Her mom had looked at her and talked to her gently, too, and she’s a warrior of Harmonia.

But... if her father is a hunter... if he’s some kind of human warrior without the blessing of a god... why Emma is how she is?

“It’s a chance. Can you imagine Harmonia’s happiness to see one of her daughters defeating a hunter and sacrificing him to her? Such an Amazon would curry her favors and have a particular path. More than a gift to Harmonia, it’s a gift from Harmonia to you.”

The leader opens a file. Emma’s eyes are attracted to the picture of her dad. Her heart falters. She recognized him right away. She shouldn’t have.

Well, she thinks with a flare of... something. It’s not her fault if she met him and has a good memory. It’s a gift from Harmonia.

Emma winces. She darts her eyes to the leader, certain her blasphemy can be read on her face.

“This man is called Dean Winchester. He’s a savage,” the leader explains, her mouth turning down in distate. “Dead bodies fall in his wake.”

Emma looks down at the picture. Hi, Emma.

“If his death wasn’t yours, another of our sisters would have taken care of him. You’ll have to perform the same ritual as your sisters and all those who have gone before you, but you’ll have to be careful. He’ll be a challenge. He will be on his guard and try to defend his life.”

“But unlike the others,” the other Amazon chimes in, “you won’t kill him only to join us. You will kill him for your sisters and your mothers. All those he’s endangering.”

Emma’s throat tightens. Her mom. She doesn’t dare to ask. She shouldn’t be thinking about her mom like her mom and the other Amazons like... others.

Unless they’re all feeling something alike and they only choose to not talk about it to preserve the harmony of the tribe.

This hope is cut short. Emma is sure it’s not an act. She often read it in the eyes of the leader, saw it constantly in her sisters’ indifference. She’s an anomaly.

An anomaly that can make things right, she thinks, staring at the picture. She still has a hard time to reconcile the soft Hi, Emma with a killer more ruthless than Amazons.

If she... If she succeeds her mission, there would be no more doubts and heavy glances from the leader. Emma would prove she belongs. She’ll see her mom again.

Make us proud, Emma.

Emma lifts her head. She holds the leader’s gaze.

“I’ll do it.”

“I know you’ll complete your mission, Emma.”

The praise is unexpected. It catches her off guard. There isn’t a single gleam of doubt in her leader’s eyes. She knows Emma will succeed.

It hardens her resolve. She feels confident, for the first time of her life.

She’ll make them proud.

And all her mistakes will be forgotten.

Chapter Text

Emma goes looking for her father.

She walks in the streets, forcing herself to focus on her mission. She can’t allow herself to be distracted, though everything is so different. There’s almost no one outside and it’s a relief. She feels overwhelmed already.

The night is falling, and she’s still away from her destination.

She picks up her pace. It’s the last night. She has no time to waste.

The others are in the streets too, somewhere else, ready to complete their missions. Knowing so should encourage her to give her best. But their situations are different. Their targets are only men. Emma will have to face more.

Emma, who is the slowest and the weakest of the Amazons.

She spots a movement from the corner of her eye and turns her head. It’s only her reflection on a building’s glass door. It’s too dark for her to make out her features but she slows down all the same, staring at herself, tracking the smallest common feature she has with her mom. She’s all grown up, now. She’s wearing the largest clothes her mom packed. Lydia didn’t prepare anything for after, because Emma was meant to come back as an accomplished Amazon who could fend off for herself and wouldn’t need a mom anymore.

She isn’t supposed to need a mom now.

Her hand lifts to her necklace. Emma pictures her mom, the last time she saw her, kneeling and taking off her necklace before putting it around her neck.

You be a good girl. Make us proud, she said.

Emma swallows hard. She diverts her eyes. Her mom would be so disappointed if she knew how bad Emma is at all this. She didn’t make anyone proud.

Yet, she tells herself.

She still has one trial to overcome. She can succeed this one. She can. All the Amazons did, and she’s an Amazon.

Emma resumes her journey, doing her best to ignore the suitcase she’s dragging with her. She thinks about the gleam of approval in the leader’s eyes when she asked to take it with her. It’s only a prop for her act, to lull the hunter’s suspicion. She’s a teen running away from monsters, toward safety and freedom.

Her pace falters.

After some time—she’d be unable to tell if it was too short or too long—she spots the motel the leader told her about.

He’s here.

Emma stops in front of the door. She secures her knife in her sleeve. There aren’t many places where she can hide it and produce it swiftly. Speed is one of the most important trait of every fight, especially when your opponent knows how to defend himself. Emma has to be smarter and seize all the advantages she can. It’s her chance to prove herself. For once, she can stand out from her sisters for a good reason. None of them will have to kill a hunter.

Maybe that’s why she’s not normal. Maybe it’s because of her father there’s something wrong with her.

(Maybe he’d understand her.)

Emma pushes the thought away. He’s a father and fathers are disposable.

Emma takes a deep breath, knocks at the door and strains her ears. She doesn’t hear footsteps or a voice. She swallows past the lump in her throat and knocks again. She waits, ready to knock a third time, but she doesn’t need to. She drops her hand and a man opens the door. Her father. He keeps his hand on it, as if he’s getting ready to close it to her face at any moment.

“Hi. You don’t know me, but my name is Emma. I need your help. I think I’m in trouble, and you’re the only person I can trust.”

Emma regrets the words as soon as they leave her mouth. They hit a little too close to home.

“Why?”

“Because you’re my father.”

The man looks at her. Emma stares back, doing her best to not betray her knife’s hiding place. He’s her dad, there’s no doubt about that. She’s noticing some features they have in common in spite of herself. Their eyes, for one thing. Emma doesn’t know if hers are that green but their shape is alike.

Emma resists the urge to divert her eyes. How she’s supposed to kill someone from her family? It’s one thing to have heard this man is her father, it’s another to face him and realize it’s true.

“How’d you find me?”

Emma forces herself to stay relaxed, as if she’s only a girl reaching out for her dad. She sees his guarded expression and ignores the pang in her chest. It’s a good start. He isn’t attacking her. It means she’ll have a chance.

He wasn’t going to welcome her with open arms.

“They’ve been watching you, ever since Mom got pregnant.”

“Well, if you’re such a prisoner, you mind telling me how you escaped?”

“I waited until lights were out. The women who watch over us change shifts a little after 10:00.”

“Uh-huh. And you left because...?”

The truth escapes her before she has any control over it. “They stick you in there, and you trust them. It’s all you know. And you don’t question what they want you to do—terrible things. That’s why I had to leave. They tortured me.”

Emma holds up her wrist, revealing the brand on it. Her stomach turns. She feels so vulnerable here, showing this mark she loathes. She remembers the pain, and her shame at having been unable to conceal it—her indignation at having to conceal it.

“They told me I had to endure pain so I could be strong like them. But I don’t want to be like them.”

Another truth slipping from her. Emma wonders how she manages to hide her shock at her own confession.

“Okay,” Dean sighs, stepping back. “Come on in.”

Emma enters the room. Dean closes the door behind her and replaces the security chains, as if he hasn’t just allowed the danger in. He puts his gun away. Emma startles. Does that mean he decided that she isn’t a threat? She should be thrilled—it means her plan is working—but she’s not. He’s giving her a chance to explain herself, to try to convince him. He’s ready to listen.

No one has ever wanted to listen to her before.

“Have a seat.”

Emma looks at the room. The place kinda reminds her when she lived with her mom. She chooses to sit on the bed.

“Okay. Let’s assume that you’re not... like them. Yet,” Dean says. “What do you want me to do?”

A question, as if she has a choice and she’s allowed to have an opinion. She’s not. She’s an Amazon. Amazons belong together. What kind of future she’d have here anyway?

“Get me away from here. You’re a good man. My mother told me that.”

It was the wrong thing to say: suspicion grows on Dean’s face.

“I seriously doubt she said that. And if you knew me, you would seriously doubt it’s true.”

Emma’s mind flashes to that very same man, looking down at her a couple of days ago, giving her a fond smile and saying Hi, Emma in a gentle voice.

Don’t think about that, she scolds herself.

He’s sad, he doesn’t like himself, wouldn’t it be a mercy to end his life?

An Amazon shouldn’t think like that either.

If she succeeds, all will be forgotten. They can’t read her mind. A good façade can protect her. Acts can. One little act, and she’ll be accepted. She’ll be safe.

“They told me you’re a hunter. So maybe you’ll understand about me. Maybe you can protect me. Just long enough so I can get away. Then I’ll leave you alone.” The thought hurts despite only being a scheme inside a scheme. “I know you don’t want me.”

“All right, let’s not... go there, okay? This isn’t a matter of...” Dean gestures between them. “You get this isn’t a normal situation, right?”

“How would I know? Three days ago, I wasn’t even alive. Now here I am. My mother threw me into that place. And my father...”

Dean flinches. He conceals it quickly, and it kinda reminds Emma of herself whenever she faces the leader.

She doesn’t know how to feel about that. She forces herself to not dwell on that.

“Well... You get this is my last chance to have anything normal ever, right?”

Emma hates how all her words are true. It’s supposed to be an act.

Dean paces, walking to the window, glancing outside. Emma wants to talk more, but she doesn’t know what to say now. She feels like she already told too much.

Dean crosses the room back and stands in front of her.

“You look exhausted.”

The three little words send a jolt through her. It feels so long ago since someone cared about her—her mom, before handing her to them.

“And starving. It’s been a tough sweet sixteen. So you believe me?”

Dean nods.

“You’ll help me?”

“If you really want my help.”

There’s a pause. His words sink into Emma’s brain. He’d... help her? Despite knowing what she is? No. It can’t be. It’s a trick. The Amazons warned her. You can’t believe humans. Hunters are somehow worse. They lie all the time, only to make you drop your guard and kill you. 

“Well, now, what happens when they find out you’re missing?”

“They may have already found out. And they’ll hunt me down.”

Dean nods and walks across the room, turning his back on her. It’s her chance. He isn’t paying attention anymore.

“Look, I know this is gonna be hard, but if I’m gonna get out, I have to do it now.”

Dean opens the fridge. “We got cheese and a leftover burrito.”

Emma looks at the man—her father. She can do it. All her prior failures wouldn’t mean anything as long as she succeeds this. It wouldn’t matter anymore if she used to be weaker and slower than the others, to hesitate instead of obeying. She’ll be an Amazon in the only way that matters. So what if her stomach twists uneasily at the prospect of killing and bile rises in her throat when she thinks too hard about the steps of this ritual? It’s better than what would happen to her if she fails.

She stands up.

“Doesn’t make a difference.”

She moves her arm and her knife drops in her hand. Only a couple of steps, and she’ll reach him. She can stab him in the back. She can make it as painless as possible. He won’t even realize it.

Everything led to that very moment.

Emma has only the time to make one step forward. Dean closes the fridge and turns around, a gun in his hand, aiming right at her chest. She stops.

“You were asking if I believed you.”

“I was told you’d be a challenge.”

“I figured you’d chat me up... try and catch me off guard. Almost worked. I was expecting your mother.”

“It’s not her place. I have to kill you.”

“Is that what they told you?”

“It’s what I am.”

And who can escape what they are? There’s only one road. Emma has to kill her father to become an Amazon, or he’d kill her. There’s no escape.

“Well, then, I should just kill you right now.”

It’s a mere fact. Dean’s face doesn’t show any anger. It’s his job, as killing him is Emma’s.

And yet– none of them is making a move to end this. He isn’t making any move, despite having a gun to counter her knife.

“Sure. But you could have done that thirty seconds ago.”

Dean doesn’t answer. He keeps his weapon on her, his hand steady. Emma searches his eyes. They aren’t as soft as they were when they first met, but they aren’t as hard as the eyes of the Amazons—except her mom, her mom used to look at her kindly in the first moments of her life.

“It’s weirdly hard, isn’t it? It is for me.”

“Knock it off.”

“How could it not be? You’re my father.”

Strong emotions pass through Dean’s eyes. “Hey! We’re not going to do that.”

“But it’s true. You’re the reason that we’re standing here. I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you. So now someone has to kill someone.”

Everything she said is true, and it’s only occurring to her how sad it is. And there’s something about Dean... She feels like she can talk. Or maybe she’s only tired of keeping her thoughts for herself. She had to do so her whole life. Two days may look like nothing, but they feel like forever.

They have been her forever.

“You know what? So far, my childhood’s been kind of disappointing.”

“You haven’t killed anybody yet, Emma. Walk away. Right now. I won’t go after you.”

“I can’t. I don’t have a choice.”

Despite knowing so, she’s unable to move. She doesn’t let go off her knife, but she doesn’t try to use it either. She doesn’t think about a way to use it.

Dean suffers the same dilemma. Is it because of him she’s like this?

Did you fail your mom and all your ancestors too? Were you not good enough for your people either?

Do you feel guilty because of it too?

The questions burn her tongue but she swallows them back. She isn’t here for idle talk. She doesn’t need– She doesn’t want to learn about her dad, or find out if they’re alike in some ways and if he’d understand her like the other Amazons never did.

It’d be the greatest failure of her life.

“What are we doing now?”

“I have to go after them.”

“Why?”

“They are hurting people. My job is to stop them.”

“But you are not moving.”

“And you aren’t trying to kill me.”

“Maybe I will.”

“Why didn’t you rush when I had my back turned?”

“Why don’t you press the trigger?”

They are stuck. Or maybe not. Emma eyes Dean warily. If she rushes toward him—or does the slightest move, really—he’ll be able to stop her only by pulling the trigger. The leader said he’s a seasoned hunter. He isn’t new to everything like Emma.

Why he isn’t attacking?

“They sent you to slow me down, right?”

Emma frowns. “What do you mean?”

“Come on... you come here, you talk to me, you don’t try to fight... Meanwhile, they have the time to flee.”

“Amazons don’t flee!”

And this isn’t the plan. Emma isn’t bait. She’s here to kill Dean to walk into adulthood and be allowed to go to the Mother Island.

Seeing her mom again, maybe.

Amazons don’t sacrifice each other.

The symbol on her wrist itches. If they branded her like this... No. It proves she’s one of them. They wouldn’t sacrifice her without warning her beforehand. This is a human method. Amazons are so much better than that. They are warriors. They are ready to do whatever it takes for their sisters, knowingly.

I’m not one of them yet.

And she’s defective.

Emma can’t get rid of that thought. She has always been several steps behind the others, hesitating when they were rushing forward, flinching when they were bearing the pain with dignity.

She’d never make her mom proud.

“Why you didn’t bring a gun?”

“What?”

“You knew I was a hunter when you came. They told you.”

Emma lifts her knife. “It’s tradition.”

“You could have used a gun to wound me and then used the...” Dean gestures at the knife.

Emma hasn’t thought about it. The leader didn’t suggest it.

The doubt he planted in her mind turns into certainty. She has been sacrificed. She’s here, meant to fight a hunter alone, so the others can return to the Mother Island safely.

The knife almost slips from her hand, but she clings to it, as her life is shattering around her.

Does Mom know?

Whether she knows or not, it doesn’t matter. She handed Emma to them, she asked her to make them proud. Emma didn’t. Her mom will never want her now.

What will she do? What will she become?

She’s an Amazon. She’s meant to be with the other Amazons. She can’t stay alone. She wouldn’t fit among humans. They’d never understand her and she’d never understand them. The gods marked them to make them different.

“Hey.”

The voice is soft, but somehow cuts through her thoughts. Emma focuses back on the present. Dean is still here. He didn’t use her loss of attention against her. He slightly lowered his gun—it’s still raised enough for him to use it quickly—and his features are expressing worry.

“Did you really mean it? About helping me?”

Emma’s question sounds dumb. He’s hasn’t shot her, despite guessing she was here to make him waste his time.

“Do you want help?”

Emma looks into Dean’s eyes. They are sad, but genuine.

Emma chews on her lower lip. She nods curtly.

Dean lowers his weapon first.

“Okay,” he breathes out.

They drive into a street. Emma recognizes it right away—it’s the place she spends the last two days. She follows Dean out of the car, and inside the building, a shout trapped in her chest, ready to warn her sisters if they haven’t abandoned her.

The building is empty. Abandoned. Like her.

Emma has been nothing but a bait. Her knees feel weak.

A hand lands on her shoulder. Dean is staring right into her eyes. “Hey, you okay?”

Emma blinks.

“I didn’t think– I didn’t think they would–”

Dean’s face softens. It’s different from his Hi, Emma face. Emma didn’t know features could get softer in different ways.

“Of course you didn’t. They were supposed to be family and family look after each other.”

A weird weight appears in Emma’s throat. She acquiesces with a slight nod.

“Come on. There’s no point in staying here.”

Dean steps outside. Emma glances around her one last time before following him. She has nowhere else to go, no one else to turn to.

She doesn’t belong anywhere.

Chapter Text

Emma would have never imagined this day to end that way.

She’s sitting in the car, next to her father. Has it happened before, in the history of Amazons? Emma has no way to know. If it happened, the others would never have talked about it... or maybe they would have, as a warning tale about the fate of bad Amazons.

Maybe Emma is the very first one.

She steals glances at her dad but his eyes are focused on the road. She has countless questions but she doesn’t know where to start. And maybe she’d better keep silent from now on, talking only when she has something useful to share. The Amazons didn’t like her talking. It’s certainly the same for hunters. It didn’t seem to bother Dean when they faced each other in that motel room, but that was different. He was trying to gauge her. Now...

Dean breaks the silence. “I don’t know what to do about you.”

His voice is stating a mere fact, but Emma is startled out of her thoughts. Her throat tightens. She isn’t human. As a hunter, Dean can’t allow her to live. Hunters believe in protecting humans against the natural order of things. He’d kill them all, given the chance.

Emma discovers here, in this car driving into the night, that she doesn’t want to die, not before having a chance to live. Warriors aren’t afraid to die. It means she isn’t one. She should have understood sooner, but it only hits her now.

How many world-shattering revelations one can have in such a short amount of time?

“I won’t hurt anyone,” she whispers.

Dean glances at her in surprise. “What– No, I mean...” He drums on the wheel. “Hunting isn’t a life for a child. You deserve better.”

A child, not a monster or a warrior who has to prove herself.

Emma can only stare at her father. He thinks she deserves better. She’s sure some implications are escaping her. She fiddles with the fabric of her sleeves and forces herself to stop. Fidgetting is wrong.

“I– I can’t stop and settle down. I’ve got... things to take care of.”

It sounds like a duty. A mission. That’s familiar. Emma makes herself relax and look composed, like she used to be when she was lined up with the other Amazons.

The other Amazons, who certainly succeeded their blood mission and are back to the Mother Island. Maybe they even met their mothers again.

Emma loses some of her composture. She pushes those thoughts away and focuses.

“What’s your mission?” she asks, her voice echoing in the car.

She remembers too late you’re not supposed to ask questions. You have to wait the informations to be given to you.

“Leviathan,” Dean says. Emma almost slump in relief. “They come from Purgatory. They... escaped.”

Dean pauses. Emma doesn’t know what Leviathan or Purgatory are, and she’s realizing how much she doesn’t know. Would the Amazons have taught her about this or is this hunter knowledge?

“I have to find a way to send them back, or to kill them all.”

“I can help.”

She learns quickly, like all Amazons. A shared skill that makes them look down on humans. They mock so many things about them: their slowness, their weakness. Dean doesn’t look either slow or weak. He lacks ruthlessness since he didn’t kill her—as she lacks ruthlessness, since she didn’t kill him—but Emma can’t believe it’s a bad thing.

For a non-Amazon. It’s a bad thing for Amazons, obviously. She wouldn’t be here, with him, otherwise. She’d be among her sisters. (With her mom.) She wouldn’t wonder so many things and be afraid to be alone in this big, wide world, as if she was a prey instead of a powerful warrior. She wouldn’t be begging to not be abandoned.

“You didn’t escape the Amazons to become a hunter,” Dean comments in a sad voice.

“They told me about hunters,” she reminds him. ”It’s different.”

“It’s a sad life. You fight, you get hurt, you see everyone around you–” Dean swallows. “–everyone around you die. It’s a war and, once you’re in, you can’t get out.” He looks at her. “You should get out while you can.”

“You never saw anyone out?”

“Not without paying a price.”

There is another pause. Emma uses it to untangle everything she learned about Dean and his motivations, trying to understand him and what he could want from her.

The conclusion is easy to draw—and painful.

“You want me to leave?”

Emma can’t blame him. The Amazons didn’t want her either, and she was supposed to belong with them.

“I– Let’s not go there, right?”

Emma frowns. It’s the second time he’s using that sentence. It must be important. She wonders if, by chance, he wouldn’t mind having her as a daughter.

Maybe he’ll allow her to stay around.

“First thing first... we’re going to eat. You told me you’re hungry, right?”

“I didn’t eat much today.”

Emma’s eyes trail on Dean’s hands, steering the wheel, and she remembers she’d have to cut them. Nausea churns in her stomach. She turns her face away and stares at the trees through her window, doing her best to shove those thoughts away. She won’t be able to eat anything if she keeps thinking about that.

What a pityful Amazon she’d have been. She can only hope she’d be a better hunter or else...

If she isn’t good at being an Amazon or a hunter, if she’s too weak to follow in her parents’ steps... what could she do? How could she ask for a place in this world?

Hunters are warriors. Her training will be useful for their lifestyle. Even a failed Amazon like her is skilled compared to hunters and other human warriors.

Emma remembers how easily Dean could have killed her and her building confidence vanishes.

The car slows down and Emma startles. There are still wood on both side of the road and her first thought is that Dean is going to abandon her. He told her she could leave because she didn’t kill anyone yet. He never vowed to look after her. What she read as a doubt has been nothing but wishful thinking, like all those times she pictured her mom smiling at her and opening her arms to her.

The car swerves on a side road, leading to a building—a Gas’N’Sip, according to the shop front.

Dean stops the car.

“We’re going to grab some food.”

Emma nods, trying to not let her relief shines through. Dean isn’t abandoning her... yet.

They step out of the car and walk to the building. The windows draw rectangles of light in the night. Emma is seeing a glimpse of the inside and has to stifle her awe while her eyes roam over the aisles she can see. There are so many items, so many colors. But she’s supposed to be an Amazon and Amazons aren’t awed.

She glances at Dean and notices he isn’t awed either, so that’s not a hunter thing. It’s only her, stepping out of the line, like usual.

Emma tries to tone it down. She steps inside the Gas’N’Sip and there are shelves everywhere and so much choice. The last time she saw something so varied and colorful was in her home, before she was taken away.

She walks forward, forgetting her resolution, looking the different articles. There’s so much food... Her stomach grumbles. She can’t remember the last time she ate. It was before the leader taught them to inflict pain...

Her belly twists. She knows she’s hungry—she can almost make the outlines of a pit in her stomach—while having the strange feeling she wouldn’t be able to swallow the slightest bite.

“You need something?” Dean asks, taking her out of her thoughts. “Food? You said you were hungry, and you never took that half burrito.”

“I... Yes.”

“There’s something you like?”

Emma blinks, surprised. It sounds like she can pick up whatever she wants, and it’d be hers.

Emma looks back at the shelves, and the choice feels heavy on her shoulders. How can she pick only one thing when there are so many things on display and she doesn’t know half of it?

Dean sighs. Emma tenses. Her indecissiveness is annoying him. It isn’t an Amazon trait. What she can do if what makes her different from Amazons bother him too?

“If things were different, I’d bring you to a diner. That’s good food. And it’s nice.”

His mouth curls up into something that almost looks like a smile.

“If I wasn’t an Amazon?”

Dean makes a derisive sound. “No. That’s not the problem.”

Emma frowns. How that can’t be the problem for a hunter?

“What’s the problem then?”

“Leviathan.” Emma nods. Dean already referred to those. “I’ve been a little too annoying and now they’re on the hunt for me. I’ve got to stay low. Avoiding the places I can avoid, switching cars... Once they’d be gone...”

Emma’s heart leaps but Dean shakes his head.

“What d’you want?”

Emma tries to hide her disappointment. They hardly know each other and she hasn’t proven herself yet, why would he talk about a future for the both of them?

“I... I don’t know.” Her mind flashes to the day before. “No raw meat. Anything else will be an improvement.”

Dean’s expression falls. Emma frowns. She obviously said something wrong. She should stop talking. If she keeps making mistakes, he’s going to get rid of her and how could she blame him? Amazons did for less than.

Dean looks around before she can find a way to fix this.

“We can start by food education.”

He grabs a basket and advances among the aisles, filling it with cans of food and packs of cookies. Emma follows him. Her eyes scan over the shelves, and stop on a cereal box. That’s what her mom gave her for their last meal together. Emma remembers it acutely. Her mom opening the cereal box and pouring them in a bowl. Her smile that didn’t reach her eyes and the way she crossed her arms on the table. Growing girls need to eat. The sadness in her eyes, because she knew she’d have to give up on her.

That’s how Emma wants to remember it. Sometimes, she worries she invented it, the expression of her mother, because Amazons are duty over everything else. But then she remembers being on the steps, when her mom handed her to them. She displayed that very same expression. Emma is sure. Her mom knelt in front of her and puts the necklace around her neck and it has to mean something, right?

“...ma? Emma?”

Emma blinks back in the present, the cereal box in her hand. Dean’s hand is hovering inches away from her shoulder. He’s looking at her, his brow furrowed, the basket forgotten at his arm.

Emma looks at the cereal box.

“I like those.”

She can’t tell him about her mom, like she couldn’t ask about her when she was with the Amazons. It’s still a secret.

“Alright.”

Dean holds out the basket. After a beat, Emma drops the cereal box inside. They keep shopping, Emma focusing on the present, forbidding herself to be swept away by her memories. It’s easier since Dean explains her about this Gas’N’Sip and shopping at large.

The human world is quite complicated, but it’s reassuring to learn things she’d have learned with the Amazons anyway.

Dean walks to the checkout, Emma following dutifully. A young man is standing on the other side. He looks at them in boredom before picking up the items and scanning them with the register. Once it’s done, Dean uses a credit card to pay. A spark of pride lights up in Emma’s chest at understanding it all.

Dean gathers their groceries in a bag and hands her a sandwich. Emma takes it, as well as the till receipt. She reads it on their way out. It’s really listing all the items they bought and how much cost each of them.

The door of the Gas’N’Sip closes behind them.

“You can read?”

“Of course.”

“What else?”

Emma is about to answer when a doubt seizes her. What if Dean keeps her around to learn everything he needs about the Amazons to kill them in two years? Maybe he’s searching their weaknesses, and Emma is the obvious weak link to attack first.

She doesn’t know anything.

She shrugs casually, her hand tightening on the till.

“You were very little when you started talking,” Dean whispers more softly, as if he doesn’t dare talking about it.

Emma raises her head, surprised. She didn’t think he’d refer to their first meeting. She wasn’t sure he remembered it. Amazons always say humans are forgetful, and that’s why they don’t know about them anymore.

She guesses hunters are different. They still know Amazons exist.

“So, what are you thinking about that guy?” he asks with the beginning of a smile.

Emma is brought back two days ago, in her room in the place she can only call her home—where she lived with her mom, when her life was easy and perfect, when nothing bad could happen to her.

Who’s that guy in the other room?

She smiles. It’s not her mom opening her arms to her and saying she’s proud, but it’s nice to share a memory of that happy time with someone.

“I guess he isn’t bad.”

Dean utters an amused sound. He opens the back door of the car and puts the bag on the seat. Feeling bold, Emma says, “If I have to answer your questions, you have to answer mine.”

“Fair enough.”

Emma stills. Fair enough?

“What do you want to ask?”

Why you allow me to accompany you?

Not this. Emma doesn’t want him to think about it and realize he’d rather keep travelling alone or, worst, abide to the hunter code.

She shakes her head.

“I don’t know yet.”

“Alright.”

They circle the car and sit in the front seats. Dean drives away from the Gas’N’Sip, into the night. Emma unwraps the sandwich and bites into it. Flavors flood her mouth. That’s how adult human food is like? Emma takes another bite. It’s so much better than everything they give her in the training quarters.

“Is all food like this?”

“Good and full of chemicals? Unfortunately not, but there’s much choice.”

Emma glances at the bag. She can hardly believe other meals can be as good as this sandwich. It has to be an exception.

Dean’s smile drops slowly.

“I– I’ll teach you what you need to know. About this world. The Amazons didn’t tell you about shopping and money. I guess they forgot to teach you other things.”

“I’d have learned that at some point,” Emma forces herself to say. Sharing informations is a show of good faith. “Before...”

She stops. There’s no way of ending her sentence without reminding her dad Amazons are men-killing warriors.

Dean’s face blanches.

“They... would have expected you to live like them.”

“If I succeeded the blood mission, but I didn’t.”

Dean’s hands tighten around the wheel. Emma made a mistake. Again.

“But... you’re free from that now, right?”

He glances at her and it’s so quick Emma can’t be sure, but she thinks she reads something like worry in his eyes.

Free... that’s one way of putting it. Emma mostly thought of it as her failing her ancestors, but maybe it’s about having her own path instead.

“What do you do... when there was a fate woven for you and it suddenly doesn’t exist anymore?”

Dean’s mouth trembles. Emma turns her head and looks through her window. She has to stop asking him questions that remind him of Amazons. Not only it’s preventing him to forget what she is, but he can’t have the answers.

“You take it one day at a time. That’s how I’m trying to do anyway.”

Dean offers her a sad smile before focusing on the road. Emma presses her forehead against her window.

One day at a time.

She’s still uncertain, but it doesn’t have to be hopeless. Maybe fighting her fate day by day is enough.

But can she really be free when her fate is written in her flesh and her bones?

Chapter Text

Emma awakes with a start. She sits up on her bed and looks around her, not knowing where she’s at first. There are threatening shadows everywhere. Her heart is climbing inside her throat. She needs a moment to notice the shadows aren’t moving. The room around her is cluttered with furnitures. It’s not the Amazon training quarters, nor it is—she realizes with a twinge—her home. Her eyes adjust to the dark. There’s another bed in the room and Dean is sleeping in it, his arm under his pillow. The last twenty-four hours come back to her.

Her heart is beating too loud in her chest, as if it’s trying to tear her from inside. She identifies it as fear and hates herself for it.

Emma’s fists curl in her sheets, as she remembers her nightmare. The leader took her to the ground, listing her failures and telling how Emma doesn’t deserve to be one of them. How she’s too weak.

But the worst... the worst was her mom, looking from afar, disappointment in her eyes.

The whole scene was a blur, except for this. Emma could tell exactly how her mom was looking, with her purple overall and black trousers, with her brown eyes and light hair. She was the most detailled element of the dream, even more detailled than the leader pinning her to the ground.

Her mom was wearing her necklace again.

Emma reaches up but the necklace is still around her neck. She clings to it. Her mom didn’t take it back.

It has been nothing more than a bad dream.

It’s okay. I’m here. I’m safe. They can’t find me.

Sure, some Amazons don’t return to the Mother Island in order to keep an eye on the human world, but they have better to do than concerning themselves with her. Emma’s not a threat. She’s hardly anyone. The bulk of the forces wouldn’t appear for two other years, and even then nothing says they’d waste their time going after her. Amazons don’t stay long in the human world and have to use this short amount of time to prevent their ranks from reducing. Emma isn’t worth the bother.

They certainly think she’s dead anyway.

Her heart refuses to slow down. She keeps clinging to her necklace. She feels so small... smaller than when she lined up with the other Amazons and they were taller than her. She’s not a warrior. And here, trembling in the dark, she can’t tell herself she chose her own fate. She didn’t choose to walk away. It was her only chance to live. She didn’t have the strength to own up to her real fate, and that’s what her nightmare reminded her.

Emma hugs her knees to her chest. She’s a disappointment. That’s why the Amazons left without her and she ended up here, alone, scared.

That’s why she’ll never see her mom again.

It’s not because they sacrificed me for the sake of the group they wished me harm.

Emma wants to harbor doubts about their intentions. She can’t know for sure they traded her for the safety of the group. It’s a guess, from a hunter. Why they told her about hunters and caution her to be careful if their goal was her death?

Because the usual way wouldn’t have worked on a hunter. It was the only way to buy them enough time to run away. Emma has to accept it. That’s how Amazons are. They never hid it. They’d do anything to ensure the continued existence of their kind. Sacrificing one of them—especially a failure like Emma—for the group’s survival is logical.

Her heart sinks. She doesn’t know which is worse.

Emma looks her father, lying in the other bed. He’s breathing evenly. His eyes are closed. No one is more vulnerable than in their sleep. She could attack him now, or at another time when he’d have his guard droped, and searching one of the Amazons on guard duty. She could pretend she played the long run because he was a hunter and was ready to fight her. Maybe they’d welcome her back. Maybe they’d congratulate her to have succeeded a harder trial than the other Amazons. She wouldn’t be allowed to go to the Mother Island—she knows the two-years gap is important, despite not knowing why—but she could be with her kind. She could meet with her mom again.

She could make them proud.

Emma slips free of her blanket. She swings her legs on the side of her bed and lays silently her feet on the ground. She stands up. She reaches for her blade, hidden under her pillow, and walks to Dean’s bed. Her hand tightens around her knife. He wouldn’t have the time to defend himself. One strike and he’d be dead. He wouldn’t notice it, wouldn’t have regrets about sparing her. Emma can regain the control of her life and be who she’s meant to be.

Even while she’s playing this fantasy in her mind, part of her knows she won’t do it. This certainty hits her like an affront and she wills herself to attack Dean. It’d be easy. She’s only two steps away from him.

She lifts her knife.

It’d be easy.

It should be easy.

But Emma thinks about the next steps. Her eyes trail on Dean’s hand—this hand that reached out to her when she was only a baby, offered her food and drove her away from the Amazons, this hand that couldn’t push the trigger. She’d have to cut it.

Her hand squeezes around her knife. She can’t bring herself to make the final move. How could she bring her to cut his hands and feet? To carve out his chest?

Emma can’t.

There’s a loud bang in the room. Emma swirls around, clinging to her knife, her eyes darting everywhere. They zero in on a pile of books, that were on a table. She frowns. They were at the center of the table, not precariously balanced. How they ended up on the floor?

“You changed your mind?” Dean asks in a too gentle voice for the question.

Something cold coils around Emma’s heart. She turns around. Dean is sitting on his bed, the sheet curled around his waist, casually holding a gun on the mattress. It was certainly hidden under his pillows. Emma can’t congratulate herself for her hunting thinking since she ruined everything. Dean won’t keep her now. He won’t allow her to walk out of this room alive.

Emma braces herself. The least she can do is being brave in front of death. Amazons don’t beg. Hunters certainly don’t beg either.

But Dean doesn’t lift the gun. Emma notices the barrel is turned in her direction, but he isn’t truly aiming it at her.

“Emma?”

She realizes Dean asking if she changed her mind was a real question. There’s no point in denying what she tried to do: she’s still holding her knife and is close to Dean’s bed.

Will he believe the truth?

Her throat tightens. She forces the words past it. “I wanted to know if I could do it,” she confesses.

“So?”

Her shoulders slump. “I can’t.”

Dean stares at her a little longer, then he breaks eyecontact. He slides back the gun under his pillow.

Emma stumbles.

“You aren’t going to kill me?”

A clatter startles her. She glances behind her. A bottle has been thrown against a wall. Emma shrinks on herself. It’s weirder than the books. Bottles don’t throw themselves at walls. When she glances at Dean, he’s frowning at the mess. He doesn’t look worried. He turns back his attention on her.

“My dad put a gun in my hands when I was six.”

Emma blinks. They aren’t going to talk about the bottles?

It seems not.

She frowns, thinking. Dean’s father—her grandfather—gave him a weapon when he was six... years old? She can’t imagine being alive for such a long time but the leader taught her and her sisters the slow aging process of humans. They need sixteen years to reach the same maturity than Amazons do in two days. Six years old... that’s how big she has been in the middle of her first day on Earth, when her mother handed her to them, isn’t it?

She can’t imagine such a young Dean. His features are blurred but the eyes... the eyes are the same that her own, that reflected in her mother’s eyes the last time she saw her. She pictures herself, instead, and sees her mom putting a gun in her hands instead of giving her her necklace.

It’d have made things worse, somehow.

No. It can’t be. Emma didn’t understand the leader’s explanations. It wouldn’t be the first time.

“I thought six was young for a human?”

Dean smiles wryly and Emma fears for a bit she shouldn’t have asked, she should have let him carrying on his story.

She forgot he isn’t like the Amazons and he doesn’t mind her questions.

“It is. From that moment, I was expected to be able to kill things. And I failed. I failed several times.”

Emma stares at her father.

“Like me?” she hardly dares to ask.

Dean’s mouth smiles but his eyes don’t change. He looks away. “Actually... I was twelve when I did my first kill.”

Emma tries to picture a twelve-years old. She doesn’t manage to, but she knows even Amazons think someone that small needs to be trained and kept away from the battlefield.

“I didn’t want to do it, but I have no choice. I did it for my family. To protect my brother. To not fail my dad again. All that to say that I understand.”

I understand.

Dean’s words are tugging a cord in her chest.

“You aren’t mad?”

Emma lifts her knife to show what she’s talking about without having to say it.

“You didn’t kill anyone yet,” Dean declares with a firmer voice. The hair on Emma’s neck stand. It’s like he isn’t only talking to her. She chances a glance around but they’re alone in the room. “You aren’t a killer. You aren’t a monster.” Dean pauses, listening, but nothing answers. Emma doesn’t understand. She is born Amazon. Doesn’t that mean she’s a monster by human standards? “As long as you don’t, I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Dean means it. Emma’s reading it in his eyes and she doesn’t know how to answer it.

So she doesn’t.

There are so many things in her father’s eyes that Emma can’t withstand them.

She walks back to her bed. She tucks back her knife under her pillow and lies down. She turns her back to Dean and pulls the sheets over her. It’s difficult to wrap her head around the fact she’s both younger and older than her dad was when he started hunting. It’s weird to think a hunter can understand how conflicted she is about the Amazons.

Her hand raises to her necklace but she doesn’t dare to hold it. It’s weighting heavier against her collarbone. Is she allowed to keep it when she’s a disgrace for all Amazons preceding her?

Make us proud.

I didn’t, she thinks back. I don’t.

She closes her eyes and opens them when she sees her mom’s face behind her eyelids, with an expression she’d never have wanted to associate with her: disgust. She pictures her snatching the necklace back, telling Emma she doesn’t deserve it and she doesn’t deserve the time she lost with her.

Make us proud.

I understand.

Make us proud.

To protect my family. To not fail my dad again.

“Does it get better?”

The question escapes her mouth before she can think about it.

“What?”

“Failing a parent. You– You said you failed your dad once...”

But Dean made up for it. Emma didn’t. She’d never be able to.

“I failed him so often I lost count.”

Emma relaxes. At least, she only failed her mother once. Guilt rises in her stomach. She shouldn’t be relieved because Dean failed his own father. She knows how horrible it feels to fail a parent. She can’t wish that on anyone, especially not on him.

“It was hard, but I finally grew out of it. I realized I was a kid and he should never have asked me the things he asked me.”

Dean’s voice echoes in the room. Emma has once more the impression he isn’t only talking to her. She brings the sheets closer. Is there something else with them here? If so, what it is?

He’s a hunter, she reminds herself. He knows how to handle threats.

Except if he’s a hunter like she’s an Amazon. If he was so good at it, she wouldn’t be alive to worry over it.

She strains her ears, but there are only her breathing, her heartbeat and her father’s breathing in the silence.

Emma forces herself to close her eyes. She’s as safe here as she can be.

Chapter Text

Emma wakes up. Which means she fell asleep at some point during the night.

The discussion she had with Dean comes back to her, along with her half-hearted murder attempt. She should give up about being an Amazon right here and now. Maybe she could have persuaded herself to kill Dean, but never to carve his skin and cut his limbs. She couldn’t stand that happening to him, if only for the smile he offered her that very first day and his gentle Hi, Emma.

She doesn’t have in herself to do this to someone she doesn’t know either.

The fears that plagued her the previous night creep on her again. She looks around, expecting the leader or any Amazon to burst through the door to kill her. Her breath catches in her throat. Dean’s bed is empty. She scans the room again. He’s nowhere to be seen. The bathroom’s door is ajar but there’s no sound coming from it.

Dean isn’t here.

She’s alone.

A rush of panic compresses her throat. What is she going to do? She doesn’t know a thing about this world. Amazons only got her ready to fulfill the blood mission and embrace their legacy.

He promised! He said he’d taught me everything!

She should have known he didn’t mean it. She has been warned. Hunters are their enemies. They can’t be trusted.

But... if those warnings were to be trusted... she’d be dead, wouldn’t she? Unless hunters are like Amazons, and are reluctant to kill their descendants themselves.

What if Dean is on his way to ask other hunters to get rid of her, as Amazons entrust their offspring to others to avoid unequal treatement?

Emma should have tried to kill him. He’d have shot her and she wouldn’t have so many uncertainties in her mind. She wouldn’t have to be so afraid.

But she doesn’t want to die.

What if Dean left not because she’s an Amazon, but for what she did yesterday?

Her chest tightens. She should have known there’d be consequences. She knew, then but Dean seemed to understand and he told her about his childhood and Emma... lowered her guard...

The plan her elders wanted her to use against Dean turned against her. How ironic.

Light is pouring through the curtains. Morning is well advanced. Emma doesn’t know when Dean left. Her suitcase is still at the foot of her bed. She looks at it and thinks about how her few belongings aren’t going to be of any use, because she wasn’t supposed to spend so much time here.

She shakes her head. She learned a couple of things yesterday. She can work it out. Amazons are nothing if not skilled to adapt. Even a failure like her should be able to.

Emma is climbing down her bed, trying to embrace this new resolution, when she hears the door open. She lunges at her pillow, grabs her knife under it and swirls around, ready to defend her life. She’s no match against a seasoned Amazon, her dagger is slower than a hunter gun, but she doesn’t want to die.

The door opens on Dean. His eyes go round with surprise and he stops on the threshold, his hands holding cups. Emma blinks. Dean is here. He’s back.

“Bad night?”

“I thought you left.”

Emma bites down her lip. She hasn’t intended to say that. She won’t be able to convince Dean to keep her if she keeps acting like a burden.

“Sorry. You were sleeping and we didn’t have anything for breakfast.”

Emma frowns and glances at the table. The bag of food they bought yesterday is still there. Emma notices a bowl, too. She doesn’t remember it.

“I’ll warn you if we have to go separate ways... for whatever reason.”

Emma nods, still confused. Dean eyes her for a beat before entering the room. He closes the door behind him and walks to the table, where he sets down the drinks. He gestures at one.

“I took a cocoa for you.”

Emma has no idea what it is.

“...Thanks?”

Dean nods.

Emma realizes she’s still holding her blade. She puts it carefully on her pillow and heads carefully for the table. The silence feels like a physical entity. Dean takes the cereal box out of the bag and opens it. He fills the bowl. Emma holds her breath, as she remembers her mom doing the same.

“Why don’t you sit?”

Emma does. Dean pushes the bowl toward her, next to the cocoa. He puts down the box.

“You can take more, if you’re hungry.”

Emma nods slightly. Dean picks up his own drink and sips at it slowly. Emma swirls the cereals with her spoon. She forces her hand still.

“I slept through you leaving.”

A good warrior is aware of her surroundings even during sleep. She should have heard Dean moving and it should have woken her up.

“Sorry. You were sleeping so deeply I didn’t think you’d wake up before a while.”

Why he’s apologizing? Emma is the one who did a mistake.

“I should have woken up.”

Dean stares at her. Understanding dawns on his face.

“You had a hard day. You needed rest.”

It’s not an excuse.

“And you’re what? Three days old?”

It isn’t an excuse either.

“And you hit the biggest growth spurt I ever saw. I’m pretty sure you should sleep more. And eat.”

Emma is hungry. Dean smiles a little, as if he heard her thought.

“Why are you being so nice?”

“You’re a kid.”

Emma doesn’t understand. She doesn’t ask further questions, though, not wanting to bother him. She picks up her cup and takes it to her mouth. The beverage is warm and sweet and dark.

“So?” Dean prompts.

“It’s good.”

His smile turns more geniune, though Emma can still read sadness in his eyes. He takes a sip of his own drink.

“Is that cocoa too?”

“Nah. It’s coffee. I need it to be functional.”

The warm feeling of Emma dampens. There are so many things she doesn’t understand and she doesn’t know. Will she catch up quickly enough?

She puts her cocoa aside and starts eating, eyeing Dean. He said he was going to teach her everything she needs to know. What does it mean? What’s the best tactic to stay with him as long as she can? If she learns at the Amazon rate, he’ll consider quickly she doesn’t need his guidance anymore but maybe he’ll be impressed and ask for her help. If she learns more slowly, she’s sure to stay with him longer...

...or maybe not. Hunters certainly don’t bear slow learners. Maybe they get rid of them, like Amazons do.

So Emma has to learn fast and well—and find a way to make herself indispensable meanwhile.

Emma takes another sip and relaxes in spite of herself. Food is a huge improvement since she left the Amazons.

She steals glances at Dean but her behavior isn’t bothering him. She adds enjoying food to the list of what she’s allowed to do.

(It’s the only point of that list, but it’s more than what she was allowed among Amazons.)

That’s it. Think about advantages. Pretend it’s better for you to be away from them and it was your choice.

She dislikes the current of her thoughts. She’d study the motel room if she didn’t do so yesterday. Nothing has changed except the books that fell this night were picked up and piled on the table and Emma doesn’t want to think about that either—it makes her feel unsafe. She draws her attention back on Dean. That’s useful. She’d understand him by dint of observation.

She frowns. He’s wearing a buttoned-up green plaid shirt and not a grey shirt over a black tee anymore. She glances down at herself. She’s wearing the same clothes as yesterday.

“I...”

Her voice trails off. She drums her fingers on the cup, notices it and stops right away.

“Emma?”

“I don’t have any other clothes. Well, I’ve got other clothes, but they’re too small.”

“I didn’t think about it.”

Emma shifts on her seat. She could open her suitcase to show Dean she’s telling the truth, but the mere idea bothers her. It’s hers. Even the leader and her sisters didn’t touch it.

(They wouldn’t have wanted to, but Emma being relieved because of it proves further what a bad Amazon she is.)

“Okay. We eat, then shopping trip.”

Emma blinks.

It can’t be so easy.

The mall is filled with clothes.

Emma gapes. She suspected as much—she saw how Gas’N’Sip was filled with food—but somehow trying to picture it is different than seeing it with your eyes. Maybe because she didn’t expect the clothes to be hanged in row and to be so low she can see the whole shop at once. There are two other customers: an eldery woman—older than Emma ever saw, with grey strands mingling to her black hair—and a male teenager. She never ran into that kind of people. The eldest woman she met was their leader, as for males... despite what Dean said yesterday—and he’s an exception because he’s her father—she didn’t picture them being young.

Dean looks around.

“What would you like?”

“Huh?”

Dean walks along the clothes, stopping to study them. Emma follows him, hard on his heels, wary of the two weird humans.

A woman steps inside the shop and heads for the eldery woman. This addition doesn’t bother Emma. That woman looks slightly older than herself, fitting in the age-range she’s used to.

“Pants, vests, flannels... I spy dresses too.”

“I don’t have much room in my suitcase.”

And Emma doesn’t want to throw her belongings away. Sure, it’s stupid—there are clothes too small for her and a teddy bear—but she doesn’t want to.

And she isn’t going to.

“They’ve got bags too. We can buy one.”

They almost reached the end of the row. There’s much choice, like everything in the human world it seems. Emma doesn’t know where to start.

“What I should buy?”

“At least two pairs of trousers and five shirts. Maybe a sweater or a vest, underwear too... Are your shoes comfy?”

“They are.”

“Okay. We won’t bother with it now.”

Dean utters an exclamation. Emma startles. She nearly drops her knife in her palm but Dean steps away from the aisle, holding a jacket, grinning. Emma never saw him with that kind of expression. He shows off the vest to her.

“It’s a Zeppelin jacket,” he says, his voice rising in... delight?

Sure enough, the words Led Zeppelin are written across the jacket’s back.

Dean looks at her, still grinning, and Emma doesn’t know how to react to that. She never saw anyone with that kind of expression, not even her mom.

Dean’s smile drops and she’s sure it’s because of her.

“You don’t know Zeppelin.”

“It’s on this vest.”

“They’re the best rock band that ever existed. I have to teach you about music. And movies.”

Something soft touches his expression. He looks at the jacket and sighs, before putting it back with the other clothes.

“Why don’t you take it?”

“I don’t need it. Where do you want to start?”

Emma’s eyes scan over the clothes. She moves forward shyly.

It’s a mission, she decides, hoping wording it this way will prevent her from feeling too overwhelmed. I have a purpose.

She walks with what she hopes is a determined gait. Her confidence fades away as she looks around and is hit once again by the countless clothes stored here. The task feels impossible. Emma spots a bright pink fabric. Emma heads for it. She summons her courage to take the trousers out of their rack and admire them. She’s quite disappointed to realize the fabric is weird under her fingertips. She puts it back, comforting herself by thinking she has taken that first step and it’d be easier then.

Emma spies shorts a little farther and winces. They look quite uncomfortable. There are plenty of nice clothes all around her but...

“I like pink.”

“How cliché,” the teenager scoffs.

Emma looks above the clothes and realizes he’s right on the other side. She glances at Dean, hoping for a clue about what she should do. Dean’s expression hardens. Emma didn’t know he could look angry—he never did, when she tried to kill him.

He looks at the teenager. The teenager blanches. He mumbles a sorry before hurrying away. Emma hardly takes notice of him. All her attention is on Dean. She watches the tension bleeding out of him. The ruthless hunter vanishes away. He eyerolls. He tries to smile.

“We’re searching pink clothes then?”

“Not all of them,” Emma clarifies.

She and her dad thread their way in the shop, focused on a different aisle. Emma finds a grey cardigan, that feels soft under her hand. It looks like it keeps warm. It’s something to take into account. She picks it up.

Then a bright pink tee catches her eyes. It’d be nice for warmer temperature, but isn’t it risky to let that much skin exposed? There’s nothing to lessen blows...

...and it’d show the brand on her wrist.

Emma drops the tee as if it burnt her and quickens her pace. She tries to focus on the present, but the Amazons are once again invading her mind.

Dean calls her and shows proudly a dark pink, pale pink... and orange plaid. Emma stares at it. She didn’t know something pink could be so ugly.

Dean pouts and places it back where he found it. Emma can’t help but cast it horrified glances as they walk away from it.

Emma chooses two long-sleeved shirts—one pale blue and the other dark pink. Dean suggests a pretty pink hoodie. Emma accepts it. Soon enough, they’re surrounded by trousers and she picks up two pairs of jeans. The one she has is comfortable and sturdy. Why she’d choose something else?

(Dean wears jeans too.)

Skirts succeed to trousers. Then there are dresses. Emma’s nearly stops in front of one—beautiful, pink with short sleeves and ruffles—but it’s not practical. She can’t picture herself wearing it. She thinks she wouldn’t like it anyway.

Dean isn’t at her side anymore when she reaches the underwear section. Emma spots him walking in another part of the mall. She grabs a box of panties, another of socks and a bra, before walking back, her arms full.

Dean reappears, holding out a duffel bag. Emma puts the clothes inside it and stretches her arms.

“We’ve got everything,” she says.

“Alright.”

They retrace their steps. The dress is still here. It wouldn’t suit her.

Dean stops. He picks the dress gently and puts it with the other items. He meets his eyes and shrugs.

“There’s still room.”

Emma feels thrilled, though she doesn’t understand why. She doesn’t need a dress. It’s useless.

They set off again, crossing the mall the other way, moving closer to the checkout counter. Emma adds two short-sleeved shirts in the bag. They’d be nice to wear with other clothes.

They walk past the shoes, and Emma spies the bags a little farther. There’s three displays near the counter, showing earrings, bracelets and necklaces. The old woman is looking at them. A flower-shaped hair clip catches Emma’s eyes. The petals are a shining pink and the clips is golden. Dark pink strands are hanging to it.

It’s beautiful.

Emma starts holding out her hand, before bringing her hand back. She doesn’t need that. She’s already indulging herself too much. It’d be greedy.

Her eyes keep coming back to it.

She shakes her head and walks away with firm steps.

“You shouldn’t be so shy,” comments a female voice.

Emma glances back. The old woman is smiling at her. Emma looks at her dad, unsure what to do.

Dean smiles. The woman laughs.

“I know. I’m a nosy woman.”

“I didn’t say so.”

“You look like a polite man.” The woman’s expression turns soft. “I’m searching a gift for my granddaughter. She’ll turn sixteen.”

“Old enough to drive.”

“It felt like yesterday she was asking me to tell her stories and talked about all the magic she sees in everything. Children... we blink and they are all grown-up.”

“They really do.”

There’s a soft note in Dean’s voice. Emma can’t quite identify it. The woman looks at her.

“You don’t want to try what you saw?”

“There’s no need.”

“Fitting sessions are half the fun of shopping.”

“You want something there?” Dean asks.

“It’s useless.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

Emma frowns. “That’s why you didn’t take the Led Zeppelin jacket?”

Dean frowns back. “It’s different.”

The woman grins, laughter lines appearing on her face. “Your dad is right, sweetie. It’s the parents’ duty to make sacrifices so children don’t have to. It’s a good thing to be sensible, but you’ll have all the time to be sensible later. Enjoy your youth.”

Emma hesitates. Dean nudges her shoulder gently. It’s the push she needs to step closer to the display. She takes the hair clip.

“You have great taste.”

It feels like a compliment. Emma’s face heats up. She somewhat nods and rushes to Dean’s side. Her father opens the bag and Emma drops the hair clip inside. He says a couple of words to the woman then they head for the checkout counter. Dean empties the bag on it.

The young woman joins them. She looks between the two of them, trying to fight off a smile. It’s a cute expression. Emma never witnessed it.

“Family time?”

Dean smiles back. There’s more distance than when he smiles to Emma, she can’t help but notice. It’s stupid to notice something like this, even more so to feel something akin to pride because of it.

“That’s obvious...?”

“You look alike.”

Emma steals a glance at Dean, sure it’d bother him. Amazons hate to be related to humans—they consider it as a necessary evil—she guesses it’s the same the other way around. But it doesn’t, unless he’s hiding it.

“I bully my dad into taking me shopping twice a year,” the saleswoman grins mischieviously. “I’ve got a car and a job now, but he didn’t point it out.”

“Willing victim then.”

The woman laughs. Emma never saw as much happiness gathered in one place.

Dean pays and they return to the car. Emma relaxes once she’s settled on her seat. The experience has been rather pleasant, but exhausting all the same.

Dean doesn’t mind humans knowing they’re related.

Dean sits in the car, holding a grey rectangle. He explains it’s a tape and puts it in the player. Notes fill the car.

“This is Led Zeppelin.”

The car sets off on a road as the music plays.

Emma decides she likes Led Zeppelin.

Chapter Text

Everytime a Led Zeppelin’s song stops, Emma expects it to be the last, but another follows.

Dean tells her it’s only a part of the world of music. And yet Emma hears more music in one morning than she did during her whole life.

They park in a rest spot and eat noodles for lunch. Emma isn’t sure she likes it. The sauce burns her tongue and makes it difficult to distinguish the flavors, but it’s not bad.

They set off again, music filling the car for miles before stopping. According to Dean, Led Zeppelin composed many other songs. Emma wonders how it’s possible to create so much.

Dean drums on the wheel, lost in his thoughts. He often does. It’s not something that’d be accepted among Amazons. Emma wonders if it is among hunters. Aren’t they warriors too? Shouldn’t they be always focused? How can you defend yourself if you let your thoughts wander and aren’t aware of your surroundings all the time?

Dean sighs sadly. “Another time, I could have brought you to more places... But I have to lay low because of the Leviathan.”

Emma looks at her dad, something weirdly warm, but not unpleasant, spreading in her chest. Dean is expressing regrets about her, and it’s not because of her presence, but because he has the impression he isn’t doing enough for her.

“I’m grateful for everything you do.”

“You don’t have to be. That’s my job.”

Emma’s smile drops. A job. In other words: a mission.

Something pierces her heart. Maybe he doesn’t trust her and he’s watching her in the case she slips.

She sinks into her seat, watching through the windows, her eyes burning. It’s silly. Of course she’s a mission. What’s gotten into her to think otherwise?

They stop in a motel. Its colors and furnishing are different from the previous one. Emma likes the change. It’s nice to see they’re in another place.

She drops her suitcase at the foot of her bed, watching Dean from the corner of her eyes. He’s settling too.

“I’ll take a shower.”

Dean nods. Emma grabs her bag of clothes and heads for the bathroom. She hovers on the threshold, takes a look at Dean.

“I’m staying here.”

Emma walks in the bathroom and closes the door behind her.

A movement attracts her attention. Her reflection in the mirror. Emma walks closer and stares at her face. It’s been hours since she last saw herself and she’s still the same. It’s weird. It’s the first time she’s seeing her reflection twice without looking older. She’s captivated. That’s how aging works for humans, and that’s how it’d be for her from now on.

Emma takes another moment to admire her features before turning away from the mirror. She places her bag next to the sink. She removes her jacket then her shirt. A red brand catches her eyes. She winces. She almost forgot about the Amazons. She spent the morning having fun with a hunter, with her father. Sure, he ended up saying she’s only a job for him, but it doesn’t erase what she felt earlier. What she didn’t feel.

The brand looks like a judgement.

You failed.

Emma quickly steps out of her clothes and showers, trying to not look at the brand. She throws on clothes. The fabric hides the mark, but she knows it’s here. She feels its presence. She’s picturing again the moment it was imprinted on her flesh. The sound. The smell. The pain.

Today, you will learn how to endure pain and how to inflict it. Fight it, Emma. As with all you do, courage is everything.

She has the impression her arm is throbbing, reminding her she isn’t able to endure pain and she couldn’t inflict it either.

When she leaves the bathroom, Dean is standing in the kitchen. He adresses her a smile.

“I thought you’d like to try for burgers. One hasn’t started living before eating burgers. Or pies.”

Dean takes the pans out of the stove and puts together what looks like a round sandwich. He brings them to the table. Emma picks hers. Dean watches her. Emma feels a little self-conscious about eating, as if she’s passing a test. She bites into the burger and chews slowly.

“What d’you think?”

“It’s good.”

And then, to Emma’s utmost shock, Dean smiles and it reaches his eyes. He glances down at his own meal and starts to eat it. Emma stares, not understanding his reaction.

But the meal is good, and she’ll have all the time to think about it later.

They eat in such a pleasant silence Emma could almost forget this life is limited in time.

This morning again, Dean is awake before her.

Emma feels bad, even if she doesn’t talk about it. They already had this argument. The matter is settled. Or it should be.

She isn’t good at following instructions.

She gets herself ready and eats the same breakfast as yesterday, with Dean. Apparently, he waits for her to wake up before having breakfast. It’s so incovenient. Emma is slowing him down.

She has to do better.

“You fine? You look lost in your thoughts,” Dean remarks.

It’s said without malice but Emma perceives it as an attack. It’s not an Amazon trait. It’s certainly Dean’s fault she’s like this.

She frowns thoughtfully and looks her dad. She first thought it by defiance, but she’s on something. Dean lets his mind wander quite often. He never stays still, drumming his fingers on surfaces, humming songs... Things Emma has to stop herself from doing all the time.

Them being daughter and father is more than some physical similarities.

“Emma?”

Emma blinks. She shakes her head.

“It’s nothing.”

Just her world turning on its axis, once again, but it’s not Dean’s problem. This man is a stranger. He should have been nothing but a mission to achieve. And yet... she knows him for longer she has known her mom. She almost spent half of her life with him.

Something prompts her to share this last point with Dean. His green eyes fill with sadness.

“I like living with you better than... you know,” Emma says. She winces. That’s not what is going to improve Dean’s mood.

As proof, he smiles his sad smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.

Emma keeps her comments for herself for the rest of breakfast.

“We forgot a couple of stuff yesterday.”

Emma tenses. What else did she forget?

“I called someone. He’ll make you an ID.”

“What it is?”

Dean produces his wallet. He shows a card to Emma. She studies it. There’s a little picture with Dean’s face in one corner and a list of informations on the other.

“What’s the use of it?”

“Too many things,” Dean sighs.

“I thought your name is Dean Winchester?”

“It is, but the Leviathan are keeping an eye on me. And I’m legally dead. Twice.”

Emma frowns. Dean slides back the card in his wallet and puts it back in his pocket. He hands a phone to Emma.

“Good thing Frank is a paranoid bastard. He gave me more phones than I need. You know how that work?”

“I haven’t learned yet.”

Dean nods. He opens the phone and explains her how it works. He saves phone numbers in it. The first, listed as Dean, is the number of the phone he uses most and keeps on him. He adds the numbers of two of his other phones. He asks her to call him. Emma follows his instructions from memory. Dean’s phone rings. He smiles and picks it up.

“Hello? You hear me?”

Emma frowns. He’s right in front of her. How could she not hear him?

Dean utters an amused sound. He cuts the call.

“Why are you giving this to me?”

“Well, if we get separated, you can call me.”

Calling to get help... What a foreign concept.

Such a little thing shouldn’t reassure her so much, especially since Dean would have to answer his phone. Nothing could force him to, if he doesn’t want to.

Somehow, she believes he will. He didn’t abandon her. He didn’t force her to walk away.

“One more thing.”

Dean opens his own phone and holds out his hand. Emma gives him back her phone. She watches him entering another phone number, listed as Jody.

“Here it is.”

Emma gets the phone back.

“Who is Jody?”

“A friend. She’s a hunter too, so she knows about all of this. You never know. This job, this life...” Dean shakes his head. “If you can’t contact me, call her. She’ll help.”

Emma doesn’t know what to think about it.

Dean rises to his feet. He heads for his bag and retrieves his laptop. He returns to his seat and opens it. He gestures at the screen.

“Well, I’m going to...”

“Search the Leviathan. What can I do?”

“Watch TV?”

Emma’s shoulders slump. Dean’s answer was to be expected. She hasn’t proven herself yet. Why he’d ask for her help?

Soon, she vows.

She heads for the sofa and sits. She turns the TV on—she saw her mom do so in their home—and keeps changing channels. She stops on the news. It’ll teach her something useful.

“You sure?”

Emma looks over the couch. Dean is wrinkling his brow at the TV.

“It’s depressing. You should watch something fun.”

Fun? That’s what he’s expecting from her?

Emma bites back a protest and starts changing channels again. She stops on moving drawings, her curiosity picked. The humans on screen are wearing colored and tight suits, unlike the humans she met. Most of them are hiding their face. Only one of them is dressed in grey and black. They have weird names—Green Lantern, Flash, Batman. There’s also some kind of woman cat who fights and insults them. A woman appears, dressed in bright colors too. But she doesn’t hide her face. She has blue eyes and dark hair. She flies. She endures pain. She uses a rope to fight.

“Oh, Diana.”

Emma glances at her dad. He’s watching the TV, his laptop forgotten. He’s smiling, and though it doesn’t reach his eyes, there’s something geniune enough about it.

“She’s my second DC favorite character... but Batman is special so...”

“You like them?” Emma asks, focusing back on the screen.

If she manages to make sense of the story, she’ll learn something else about Dean. But she feels more and more puzzled as she watches the story unfolds. Her puzzlement reaches its peak when she hears a word she knows all too well.

The Diana is an Amazon.

“Amazons aren’t like that,” she blurts.

The Diana is fighting alongside men, she saves humans... she’s called like the Huntress! She never talks about Harmonia, or Ares, or her tribal destiny. She isn’t with her sisters and mothers. She seems happy to live with her group of mainly male humans.

She hasn’t been branded.

“It’s a story. They’re often wrong. Vampires don’t sparkle.”

“Stories lie?”

“Kinda, but people know it’s not real.”

“What’s the point?”

“It’s nice, a world where the bad guys lose.”

The story is followed by another, then a third—Emma learns they’re called episodes. She relaxes.

Dean is right.

There’s something comforting about the heros winning.

A routine settles.

Emma eats breakfast with her dad, then Dean spends most of the day doing research while she watches TV or goes on the web. He brought her her own laptop.

Dean told her about tracking down the Leviathan, but he hasn’t said anything more. Emma has the impression he doesn’t want to talk about it, so she takes her cue. He’s still not asking for her help and she wonders how she’ll be able to convince him to keep her if she doesn’t make herself useful.

But there are many other things she wants to know. The world is so big.

They eat lunch together then resume their activities. In the late afternoon, they watch a movie together. Dean explains what happens on screen unprompted, and Emma feels more and more at ease about asking him questions when she stumbles over a thing she doesn’t know, even when it interrupts his search. Dean is never annoyed or angry. He doesn’t look bothered, only surprised... or sad. The latter doesn’t happen often, and Dean recovers quickly, as if it’s something he’s worried to let through.

They eat dinner and Emma goes to sleep.

The routine shatters four days later.

Dean sighs and closes his laptop. It sounds differently from when he’s hitting a brick wall in his chase of the Leviathan.

Emma looks away from the TV screen.

“I’ve got a case.”

Emma tenses. This peaceful life couldn’t last. Hunters are warriors. The time for battles has come. She had more time to prepare herself mentally. She can do it.

Emma musters all her confidence, “I can help.”

The line of Dean’s shoulders tense. Emma shrinks on herself. Of all the things she said since they met—six days ago, an eternity—why he’s reacting badly when she’s finally acting like she’s supposed to?

“You won’t.”

“I’m strong. I have Harmonia’s blessing. I learn quickly.”

Truth, lie, truth. Harmonia doesn’t like bad Amazons.

“I won’t slow you down.”

She’d do everything to prove herself.

Emma forces herself to not think about the fact that’s what she was telling herself when she was on her way for her blood mission and that her father is very much alive.

Dean lifts a hand. Emma doesn’t really understand this gesture. There’s no tension in his arm showing he intends to hit something. He isn’t reaching out for anything. Should she imitate him?

“You won’t become a hunter. That’s final.”

But she can’t be an Amazon either.

“We’ll have to take a new car. I’ll teach you that. And to drive. It’ll be handy for you, one day.”

Dean sighs and Emma’s heart sinks. She keeps saying she won’t slow him down but he’s always changing his plans because of her.

“I learn quickly,” she reminds him. “You won’t have to explain me long.”

It’s her only skill for now, but soon... once she’ll know the world better...

“It’s not... Good parents don’t teach their kids how to steal cars or forge IDs.”

“You’re teaching me what I need to learn,” Emma points out.

And Dean’s voice, when he explains her things she doesn’t know, is soft.

Dean doesn’t look convinced.

They gather their few belongings and leave the motel. Dean walks among the cars, and stops next to a dark grey one. He picks its lock and starts it. Emma didn’t lie. Each step burns into her mind and she could do it herself now.

They put their baggage in the trunk.

Dean heads for their old car, his step sure, Emma hard on his heels. He opens the trunk and lifts two bags. He holds out one to Emma. It’s quite heavy, but the one he keeps looks heavier and metallic noises sound inside it. Emma thinks those are weapons.

Dean leans forward and picks up a piece of fabric. He’s holding it so carefully one could have thought it belongs to Harmonia herself. As soon as the fabric leaves the trunk’s shadows, Emma notices it’s a stained piece of clothing. Dean smoothes its edges, making sure it’s folded properly, and carries it to their new car. He places it at the bottom of the trunk and puts the bag of weapons over it. He does it so gently one would believe the clothing is made of glass.

Emma never saw anyone treating an object with so much care.

She puts the bag down, trying to be as delicate. She’s pretty sure she fails miles away.

Dean slams the trunk shut. He circles the car and heads for the driver seat. Emma is so surprised by the change she freezes on the spot. She shakes herself and hurries to sit in the car. Dean only starts the car once she fastened her seatbelt.

Chapter Text

Dean closes the case in a couple of days. Then, they leave Wichita, Kansas, and are back to their routine, in another motel.

“I’d like to read, today,” Emma announces.

Watching TV isn’t as fun when Dean doesn’t make comments. Sure, he answers all the questions she has, even when he’s using Internet to track down the Leviathan, but it’s not the same. Sometimes, his comments have little to no relation to what’s happening onscreen. Emma likes those moments very much.

She holds back a sigh. How can she be so different of what she was meant to be?

“What can I read?”

It’s an open question, but Emma thinks about a notebook Dean consults regularly, as if it’s containing informations. Emma could learn things if she reads it.

“I think I’ve got some old Slaughterhouse Five.” Dean adresses her a grieved look. “I’m not sure it’s a good start for reading.”

“It’s bad?”

“No! Vonnegut’s a genius.” Dean pauses. “But it’d be better to start with another book.”

An alert pops on his laptop. His eyes switch to the screen.

“It’s Frank. I’ve got to...”

“Sure.”

Dean focuses on his computer and types. There’s another alert and he reads whatever appears on his screen. Emma doesn’t miss a single shift in his expressions. Dean leans forward and types again. He watches for the answer. He leans back and looks at her. Emma stills, wondering what she has done.

“Frank finished your ID.”

Emma’s heart sinks. She’s one step closer of having to walk away. Dean said she needs an ID to have a normal life. Once he’ll hand it to her, he’ll consider she doesn’t need him anymore.

She didn’t have the time to prove she can be useful.

“Something’s wrong?”

Emma blinks back in the present. Getting lost in her thoughts isn’t going to convince Dean she’s strong and skilled.

“Nothing.” Her voice sounds weak even to her own ears. “It’s... a good news.”

Dean doesn’t buy it. Emma shrinks on herself. She isn’t even a good liar. She can’t do anything.

Dean shuts his laptop.

“I’m meeting Frank tomorrow afternoon, close to Ranton, New Mexico.”

“It’s not far from here.”

Dean smiles proudly and something warms Emma’s chest. Which is silly. She studied a map of the United States and now, all its states and counties are printed in her mind.

“You’re right. All that to say we have time right now. We can grab something to eat and watch a movie.”

A smile eases on Emma’s face.

“Really?”

“Really.”

Emma is sitting in the passenger seat of another car. Dean said switching car is important before heading for Frank, though the way he told so contradicted his words.

“How I should act around your friend?” Emma asks.

Dean frowns. “My friend?”

“Frank.”

“I don’t think he’s friend with anyone. Letting people get that close doesn’t fit his paranoia.”

Emma is a little disappointed. She’d have liked to see a friendship. It’s an interesting concept, that doesn’t exist in the world of Amazons.

“And... you aren’t going to meet him.”

A weight falls on Emma and she realizes how light she felt moments ago. She fights the urge to bring her knees against her chest and hug them.

Her hand lifts to her necklace but she notices it and forces her hand down. This win against herself doesn’t erase the taste of ashes that invaded her mouth.

“It’s not against you,” Dean says. It looks like she’s as bad at hiding emotions as for lying. What kind of warrior has all her thought written across her face? “It’s already surprising Frank asked to meet me. I thought he’d send your ID somewhere and I’d have to search it with coordinates.” Dean frowns. He drums on the wheel. “It’s kinda weird.”

“You think it’s a trap?”

Dean takes the time to think about it, as if her question is good. Smart.

“No. He found something, maybe, and he fears to be listened.”

Emma nods, as if it makes sense. It doesn’t, but she doesn’t know what she could ask to make the situation clearer. She’d rather end this talk on a victory.

She reaches for the car radio and switches it on. That’s what Dean usually does when there are pauses in their conversations.

When she glances at her dad, she notices he’s smiling.

Emma leans in her seat, quite proud of herself.

They stop in a motel, next to Ranton, New Mexico. Emma enters the room and looks around her curiously. It’s the seventh motel they stop in and, as the others, it’s different. The color of the walls, the furnishing and the shape of the furnitures—who’d think so many kind of chairs exist? It’s like there aren’t two rooms alike in the whole world.

Emma drags her suitcase to her bed and drops her bag. She notices uneasily that Dean hasn’t taken his own baggages out of the car. She bites her lower lip.

Dean puts food in the fridge. He closes its door and drums his fingers on it.

“You have lunch and dinner here, but I’ll be back sooner.”

He smiles and Emma doesn’t ask how much time he thinks he’ll be gone. She has to look more confident than she is.

“Alright.”

Dean nods. “Well, I’m going. I’ll come back as soon as I can.”

He hesitates then heads for the door.

“Can I go out?”

Dean stops and Emma can’t take her words back. She’s asking for too much. If Dean wanted her to go out, he’d have told so.

“You remember how to use your phone?”

Emma nods, a little lost.

“Okay,” Dean sighs. “Ground rules: you don’t accept food from people you don’t know and you don’t follow them, capisce?”

Dean waits for Emma to nod before producing his wallet and walking to her. He gives her a handful of bills.

“If you need... or want to buy something.”

“I can go out?”

“You aren’t a prisoner.”

That much Emma knows. Being with Dean doesn’t feel the same than being with the Amazons at all.

“But you have to be careful.”

Emma’s shoulders loosen. As nice as the difference between Dean with the Amazons, it’s reassuring to come across a familiar topic.

“No one will notice I’m an Amazon, don’t worry.”

“Wha– No, I meant... take care of yourself.”

Emma blinks. She’s on unfamiliar territory again.

“Oh? I... have my knife.”

She pulls on her sleeve. Her knife is secured against her wrist, one motion away from falling into her hand and being used.

“Good.”

Emma glances at the bills. Her forehead wrinkles. “Shouldn’t we travel light?”

“We still have room.” Which has been Dean’s excuse for the dress and the hair clip. Emma likes to look at them every now and then, even though she doesn’t dare to wear any of them yet. “You call me if you get any problem, right? Even if you think it’s not important. It won’t bother me.”

Emma nods again. Dean gives her one of his nice but forced smile. He starts to leave, hesitates and walks back to her. He pats her shoulder.

“See you later.”

Emma watches him leave. Something constricts her chest when the car sets off but Dean implied he’ll be back in the afternoon—this night at the latest.

She looks down at the bills and slides them in a pocket. Buying something by herself could be fun.

Emma steps outside the motel room and locks the door behind her. She walks away from the building, a thrill of enthusiasm running through her. She’s ahead of her sisters for once. They won’t walk in streets among human beings before two years.

Her gait is lighter when she reaches the sidewalk. She scans her surroundings. She can go left or right or cross the road. There’s no instructions. The choice is up to her.

The thought stops her in her tracks. She nearly swirls around and runs back into the motel room but she steels herself. She can do it. 

She decides to turn right and head for the city. The motel is neighboring houses with bleak frontyards. None of them looks like her former home.

After a couple of steps, Emma notices a boy kneeling in a yard. There’s a motionless lump of fur next to his leg and a hole dug in front of him. Emma slows down. The boy nods at himself. He stands up and shoves the lump of fur—Emma notices it’s a dog—in the hollow. He covers it with earth. Emma knows enough about human customs to guess it’s a burying. This is how humans treat the dead. Unlike the despictions of the leader, there isn’t any flood of tears or cry of despair. The boy appears indifferent, like her sisters during their training. He’s completing a task, nothing more.

“You aren’t sad?” Emma asks, surprised.

The boy shrugs. He kicks one last morcel of soil. “It was the litter runt.” He turns toward her and makes himself look important. “It was smaller than the others, and weak. It couldn’t fight them so they took all the food and there was nothing left for it. Mom always says nature does things well. It doesn’t allow the weak to live so everything gets better.”

The boy glances dispassionately at the disturbed earth. A weight pins Emma’s chest. The boy grins to her.

“You want to see the others? They’re much cooler.”

“I– Right.”

The boy runs to his house. Emma starts following him.

“They’ll move out soon. You’re lucky.” He jumps across the threshold. “MOM! A girl wants to see the dogs!”

“DON’T LEAVE THE DOOR OPEN!”

Emma closes the door, then she follows the boy deeper inside the house. There’s a door at the end of the hallway. The boy holds it open for Emma and they gather in the living room. There’s a black and white dog, with pointed ears and a long snout, lying on her flank. Two pups are nestled against her stomach, while four others are running and sniffing all around the room. One look is enough for Emma to see how bigger and healthier those pups are next to the one buried outside.

One pup chews on a squeaky duck. Two of its siblings rush toward it and they wrestle around. The boy kneels next to them. Emma does the same, looking away from her growing uneasiness. The boy takes the duck and squeezes it. The pups focus on it. He plays with them as joyously as he buried their sibling indifferently.

“You see how funny they are? They’re real dogs.” Not like the other one, goes unsaid, but Emma hears it as clearly as if he shouted the words. “People will be happy to have them.”

Emma heads for the motel as soon as she walks out of the house. The boy and his mom were rather nice, if you can forget about the poor little pup.

She feels better once the motel room’s door is closed behind her. Dean isn’t here, but she expected so: she hasn’t left for long.

(She hasn’t spotted his car in the parking lot.)

Emma only has to wait.

If Dean comes back.

She sits on her bed, resisting the urge to text him to ask him when he’ll return. She doesn’t want to call him and risk to not get an answer, to finally realize he doesn’t want her and abandoned her like everyone else.

Emma hugs herself and waits. The seconds ticks by, then the minutes. A whole hour. Time seems so long. She feels like she’s here since forever. She’s too anxious to watch a movie. She should use her energy and her free time to train. That’s what a real Amazon would do. That’s certainly what a hunter would do, too—though she never spied Dean training.

She raises to her feet, closes her eyes and does the stretching the leader taught them, the ones that help her being aware of the size and the limits of her body.

It hasn’t changed since yesterday. Nor did it changed the day before that.

It’s weird to think that’s normal for humans.

Emma opens her eyes. With one motion, she frees her knife and grabs it when it slides in her palm. She holds it. She doesn’t really know how to use it but it does feel comforting.

She moves it slowly, getting used to its weight and equilibrum.

Keys fumble in the lock. Emma hurries to hide the knife in her sleeve. She’d rather not remind Dean how they met and that she tried to kill him—twice.

She rushes to her bed and sits at the moment the door opens. Dean steps inside. Emma’s panic receeds as she’s understanding what is happening. Dean came back, as he said he would.

He didn’t abandon her.

“Hi!” Dean says.

“It went well?”

“Frank was... Frank.” Dean shrugs. “It went as well as it could.”

He walks to her and hands her a card.

“Here, your ID.”

Emma takes it and studies it. There’s a picture of her, a fake birthdate—the day and the month are right, but the year is eighteen years ago—and her name...

Disappointment claws at her heart. The family name is Campbell.

She bites her lower lip. She let herself forgot that her– that Dean doesn’t want her. He’s only helping her because it’s his duty.

“Something wrong?”

Emma looks up. Dean is watching her. It’s not as fond as the first time they met, but there’s something... soft, about it. She could almost believe there’s affection, caring.

Emma stares down at the card, where the name Campbell proves otherwise. She isn’t his daughter... Well, she is, but he hasn’t wanted her. She can’t keep forgetting this.

“Why I’m eighteen on this?”

“We can’t put your real age. They’d think it’s a lie. Eighteen will avoid you problems.”

“What kind of problems?”

Emma wonders when Dean will snap and order her to stop asking questions. The Amazons would never have been so patient.

“You’d be seen as a kid.”

Emma frowns further. “You see me as a kid,” she points out.

Dean makes an amused sound. She snaps her head up, surprised.

“I do, but if you run into cops and they ask your ID, they won’t arrest you because of your age and send you in a foster care, or a reform school, or whatever they do to wandering kids.” Dean’s eyes unfocus. “You won’t have to rely on luck or someone’s goodwill to get out,” he adds lower. He shakes his head. “Let’s eat something, right?”

He turns around and heads for the fridge. He opens it and frowns.

“You didn’t eat?”

Emma didn’t. Her stomach sinks when she realized she failed the two things Dean told her to do—eat and buy something.

The three things, she corrects herself.

She followed someone she didn’t know. She has been so shocked about the pup she forgot everything else.

“I forgot,” she confesses.

“We’ll fix this.”

Dean grabs two cans, closes the fridge and heads for the kitchen area. He takes a pan.

“How was your day?”

Emma startles, not expecting to be talked to.

“I– A boy buried a puppy.”

“Oh. That’s sad.”

“He wasn’t sad about it,” Emma whispers.

Dean doesn’t answer right away. Emma doesn’t dare glancing at him. Even if hunters are different from Amazons, they’re warriors and warriors shouldn’t be affected by such little things.

“Creepy. That’s how it starts.”

Emma frowns, puzzled. She glances at Dean. His eyes are focused on the food, but he’s grimacing distatefully.

“I don’t understand.”

Dean glances at her. “There aren’t many things sadder than an animal dying. A baby animal?” He pouts sadly. “The kid should have his heart broken. Soon, he’ll start burying people in his yard.”

Emma concludes there’s a link between the way you treat animals and humans. She guesses it means she isn’t a monster.

“I thought you’d like to try macaroni. With ketchup and sausage. It’s a classic!”

Emma breathes in. It smells good.

She joins Dean in the kitchen and watches him cooking, saving the steps in her mind. He serves two hearty dishes. He waits for Emma to taste and looks at her expectantly.

“So?”

“It’s good!”

Dean smiles. Nice words about his culinary skills always make him happy. It’s nice.

Emma hasn’t expected to like so many meals. She didn’t know so many kind of food existed.

They share their dinner in a companionable silence.

When she lies on her bed, that night, Emma thinks about the pup, dead and thrown in a grave because it was smaller and weaker than its sisters—and brothers.

She thinks about herself, and can’t help but draw the parallels.

Chapter Text

There’s earth above her and Emma can’t breath. Its weight is pining her down. She can’t move her little finger or blink.

Unless it’s the terror twisting her chest from inside that is preventing her to move.

Emma tries to gasp and soil flows her mouth, rough but as liquid as water. She can’t talk. She can’t scream.

She can’t breathe.

Despite this, she hears voices above her.

“She failed,” the leader states.

Emma stops struggling. She’s still terrified, but she’s more afraid of what the leader could do to her if she notices she’s here.

“The others did not,” says a second female voice.

“Most of them did not,” adds a third.

“None of them did, except this one,” declares a fourth.

Impossibly, Emma feels the ground shakes above her. She doesn’t try to breathe anymore despite her burning lungs. She’d do anything to not draw their attention on her.

“It shouldn’t have happened like this.”

Emma cannot not recognize this voice. Her mom. The leader doesn’t matter anymore, neither do the other Amazons. Emma’s mom is right here, only a few steps away from her. She’d claw her way to her if she could move. She wants nothing but seeing her again. That’s the reason that helped her endure the training of the Amazons and that prompted her to obey when the authority of the leader wasn’t enough.

“It was a waste of time.”

No! I’m not. Mom!

“It’s to ensure our daughters are worthy to become our sisters the trials exist,” says the leader. “Emma was not. You’ll do better next.”

No!

Emma’s arms can finally move. There’s a locked door above her. She starts hitting it with her whole might, not caring about being noticed anymore.

Mom! MOM!

Don’t abandon me!

“Hey, hey, hey.”

There’s a hand on her scalp and another supporting her arm. She’s confused to notice she’s sitting. She still feels the weight on her chest, but a chilly air is running over her skin. She’s shaking. She’s gasping but no air is reaches her lungs, as if there’s something stuck in her throat. Panic seizes her.

I’m going to die!

Harmonia is taking revenge because Emma turned her back on her. Amazons can’t live away from their sisters and their traditions.

She’s going to die alone, after having been a disappointment her whole life and making no one proud.

A hand lands on her shoulder. Ah yes, she isn’t utterly alone. She tries to focus despite her blurring vision. Dean is standing next to her bed. He’s supporting her elbow gently, as if she was about to fall to pieces. The last time someone held her like this, it was her mom, when she was a baby.

Thinking about her mom reminds her the Amazons burying her.

But she’s cold and there’s air on her skin and a hand on her shoulder is grounding her.

“Breathe. Breathe, okay? You’re safe.”

Emma keeps gasping. Air ends up reaching her lungs somehow. She draws a first shaky breath, her lungs burning. The second is easier.

“Good. Keep going.”

Emma does. Soon enough, breathing isn’t an effort and her lungs stop aching, but she’s so cold. She brings her knees against her chest. Dean lets go of her and steps back. Emma can’t tell if she’s relieved for it or not. She doesn’t know how she’s feeling.

She’s cold, for one thing.

She fiddles with the sheet, stifling the urge to wrap herself with it. Just wanting this is something so un-Amazon-like.

Why she can’t be like them? Why she has to fight when everything was so natural for them? If only she was like her mom, like her sisters. If only she was what the leader wanted her to be.

It’s not fair!

The words get stuck in her throat. Why does she have to be the only failed Amazon?

Amazons are warriors, for one thing. Warriors don’t complain—even inwardly.

“Emma?”

The voice is so gentle her throat tightens.

“I–”

Warriors are supposed to sleep to recover strength. Emma gathers her courage. She has so few of it it’s quick and it hardly makes a difference.

“Sorry to have bothered you. You can go back to sleep.”

Wrinkles appear on Dean’s brow, and his eyes... Emma can’t hold them. They make her feel small. Not like the leader. She can’t keep her armor under their weight. They’re seeing what she is and there’s no hiding from it.

“You sure? You don’t want something to drink? Or watch a movie to take your mind off it?”

Emma shakes her head. She doesn’t trust her voice.

Dean hovers next to her bed for a bit, as if expecting her to change her mind. Emma has to use all her will not to.

Dean clears his throat.

“Right. Wake me if you need anything.”

Dean walks away. Emma listens to him lying in his bed and shuffling under his blanket. He doesn’t fall asleep right away. She listens as his breathing evens out, not trying to protect herself from the cold. Warriors are supposed to endure pain. She can bear a little inconvenience.

Emma closes her eyes and presses her forehead against her knees.

“I can do it.”

She doesn’t know what yet, but there has to be something she can do in this world.

“You look exhausted.”

Emma blinks and tries to lift her head. She’s hardly aware of her surroundings.

Dean lays their breakfast on the table—the same as everyday, Emma takes comfort in this routine—and sits across her.

“I couldn’t sleep.”

“You had other nightmares?”

Emma shakes her head. She couldn’t go back to sleep.

Dean nods to the necklace, and Emma realizes she’s clinging upon it.

“It’s your mom’s.”

Emma forces herself to let go of it. She shrugs.

“You miss her.”

Emma tenses. Missing your mom is a weakness. She learnt so when she has been taken away from her home. Only babies need their mom. Once you’re old enough to walk, you’re old enough to learn what you need to learn and be shaped into a weapon.

But there’s no a shadow of judgement in Dean’s gaze. He’s looking sad, as he often does, but on her behalf. A little like that day, when they faced each other.

It’s been ten days, an eternity. How time flies.

The truth spills out of her.

“I do.”

Saying it outloud increases impossibly her loss.

“I only spent one day with her, but I keep thinking about her.” Something grows in her chest. “But she left me! She handed me to them despite knowing what they were going to do! She– She–” Emma shows her wrist. “She knew they’d brand me, and make me kill you, and she didn’t try to keep me. She didn’t want me.”

Her voice breaks. Emma stiffens. A true Amazon does not complain. Every trial, every pain, is a chance to prove your strength and your bravery.

“But you miss her,” Dean says.

Emma bites the tip of her tongue, but Dean’s eyes are as gentle as his voice—as gentle as the first day they met and his Hi, Emma. She crumbles.

“You can be angry at her and miss her. Feeling is messy and complicated. Feelings about family even more so.”

Emma’s throat tightens, something crawling inside it. A sob. It tears itself from her throat and all the times she thought about her mom since she has been dragged away of her home come to her mind. She feels all of it. She’s a little girl again, utterly terrified, who doesn’t understand what is expected from her, who just knows she has to be brave because her mom wanted her to be.

It’s overwhelming.

“Why she didn’t protect me? She’s my momma.”

Her eyes are doing a weird thing. She hides them behind her hands. They’re leaking.

Tears.

She knows about it. Amazons aren’t supposed to cry.

She tries to swallow them back, to shut down the hiccups. She hears a chair scrape on the ground and urges herself to stop being so weak. No one likes weakness. Amazons aren’t weak. Since hunters fight them, they can’t be weak either.

Arms wrap around her.

“It’s okay,” Dean says.

Emma clings on his shirt and cries. Dean doesn’t tell her to stop. He doesn’t explain she shouldn’t. He only holds her, and whispers. Emma can’t hear his words. He starts humming. There’s something soothing about it, and about him holding her. It’s like she’s a little girl again and nothing can harm her.

Her sobs calm down and she starts hearing words. Dean isn’t humming. He’s singing.

“Hey Jude, don’t make it bad. Take a sad song and make it better.”

Emma listens to him, her eyes closed, forgetting for a time everything else. She decides she likes this song.

She feels better... well, her thoughts and her mind are getting clearer. She’s feeling safe here, and she shouldn’t. Warriors aren’t meant to. Amazons and hunters stay on guard all the time, ready to fight. They don’t cling on people and cry and expect someone else to protect them.

She knows, but she doesn’t mind much right now.

He doesn’t even want you, she reminds herself.

Emma forces her fingers open and starts leaning back. Dean lets her go. Emma blinks in surprise. She doesn’t think she’ll ever get used to be listened so much. Who notices and cares about such little cues?

“I think your mom loves you.”

Emma startles.

“Sometimes, love isn’t enough to be able to protect someone, or even to try to.” Dean gestures at her necklace. “It doesn’t look Amazon-related. It’s something that belonged to her. Maybe she bought it herself, and she chose to give it to you.”

Emma holds up her necklace. She recalls her mother crounching in front of her and putting it around her neck. Her motions have been gentle and her eyes sad. Maybe– Dean is certainly right. She did love her, as much as she allowed herself to. It doesn’t erase the fact she abandoned her, first by giving her to the other Amazons, then by leaving her fight a hunter on her own—maybe leaving after thinking she’s dead—but... at least, she loved her.

And you? she wants to ask her dad. Do you love me too?

Do you think you’ll learn to love me one day?

She bites her lips, knowing better than asking so.

“You have a mom too,” she mutters instead.

“I did.”

“What happened?”

“She got killed when I was four... do human ages mean something for you?” he asks as an afterthought.

Emma shrugs. She knows it’s younger than Dean was when his dad took him shooting, but that’s the crux of it.

Dean walks away. He opens one of his bag, rummages inside it, then walks back to her. He returns to his seat and holds a picture to her.

“There.”

Emma sits up to look at it. There’s a woman with blonde hair and a soft smile, holding a little boy.

Mom used to be like this with me, too.

There’s a pang in her chest, not as painful as her previous breakdown.

“That’s my mom and I, not long before she was...”

Emma focuses on the child. That’s Dean?

She fights the urge to grab the picture to study it more closely. It’s Dean’s, like the necklace is hers. She’d hate someone to try to take her necklace.

“How long ago that was?”

“Twenty-nine years.”

Emma blinks. She can’t imagine how it feels to live that long. She hasn’t been alive for a year yet.

“She...”

Emma doesn’t know what to say. If this woman were an Amazon, it’d have been simple: she’d have praised her strength and fighting skills. But what can you say about a human?

“She’s smiling,” Emma says.

When she looks up, Dean is smiling sadly at the picture.

“Yeah. I hope she got a few days of happiness.” Dean looks at her, his sadness giving way to determination. “You’ll get a better life. It doesn’t look like it, now, but you will.”

Chapter Text

Amazons aren’t meant to feel that much and showing so openly their weaknesses. Emma knows, and yet she doesn’t feel bad about it, not really. She has the weird impression of feeling better, lighter, as if something heavy left her along with her tears.

She looks Dean and, even though she knows he doesn’t feel like her dad and it hurts in some ways, she’s mostly glad because she feels like his daughter. He’s no longer just a lifeline to escape the Amazons. She saw he’s different from the leader, but her breakdown was the last nail. It was more than answering her curiosity or being nice with her, things that remind her her mom.

She doesn’t have to make him proud. She doesn’t need to be strong and endure pain. She can only be.

Maybe he’d ask her to leave one day, considering he did everything he could for her, but that day isn’t today, or even tomorrow. She’s a child for him, and you don’t leave children alone.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“I’m not good at this whole parent thing.”

Emma doesn’t get how Dean can say something like this, let alone think it. He does help her, all the time. He answers all her questions. He told her about failing his dad too. He let her cry. He assured her mom still love her. None of this suddenly freed Emma from her fears, but it weakened them. They aren’t so overwhelming anymore. She’s up to confront them. 

“I think you’re doing just fine.”

“Practice. You’re not the first child I’m trying to take care of.”

Something unpleasant hits Emma, shattering her new-found well-being. She didn’t think there has been anyone at her place at Dean’s side. She knows she’d be quickly replaced by her mom and among her sisters, but she thought—she believed—it’d be different with Dean.

“You... have other children?”

Her voice is taunt. She doesn’t have enough control over it. She was aiming for casual or curious, like when she usually asks questions about Dean’s life.

“Not really. I have a baby brother. He’s four years younger than me, but I kinda raised him. Our Mom died when he was a baby and Dad... Well, he was hunting. It was my job to take care of Sammy.”

“Not a real kid then.” Relief chases the ugly feeling from Emma’s chest, quickly replaced by a pinch. “You didn’t want to have children?”

“I wanted a family,” Dean whispers. “I didn’t care the shape it’d take. But I was raised as a hunter and I wouldn’t want that on a kid.” He glances at her, apologetic. “I also discovered a couple of years ago I’m from a specual bloodline and... long story short, it’ll cause problems to any kid I’d have. Your Amazon legacy is protecting your from that part. So that’s a win.”

Being an Amazon has good sides?

“What you’d like to do today?” Dean asks, the matter closed.

“You shouldn’t track the Leviathan?”

“I can stop for one day,” he says, shrugging, as if it’s not a big deal, as if he’s not priotizing Emma over a mission. “We could go out... You still don’t have any books, right?”

Emma nods. She likes the idea. It’d fix her failure of the previous day. And, if this is half as fun as when they bought her clothes, then it’d be a successful day.

She remembers Dean comforting her and thinks this day is already a good one.

After a quick Google search and a ten minutes drive, Emma and Dean step inside a bookstore. Emma’s jaw drops. There are so many books, dozens for each shelf. Some are looking so heavy they could be used as weapons.

The shelves rise to the roof, preventing her from seeing the whole shop in one glance. There’s a desk by the door, and a woman is sitting behind it. She’s rather young, her apparent age closer to Emma’s mom than to the leader. She sits up and offers them a joyous hello. Dean answers right away, with ease. Emma hesitates for a bit. It makes her answer awkward.

They walk deeper in the bookstore. Soon, shelves are hiding the door.

“The children’s books are there,” Dean says, nodding to a nook of shelves. He points another. “Sci-fi novels are there. I guess Fantasy isn’t far.”

“I see.”

Dean wanders away, reading the back cover of a book then putting it down before picking up another one. Emma decides to do the same, picking books randomly. She’ll never have the time to look at them all.

She focuses on the smaller sizes. It’ll allow her to carry more books.

A title draws her attention. She takes the book out of its shelf, staring at it with round eyes. Her name is written in big letters across the cover, above a picture of a woman in a large gown.

Emma knows it’s not about her, that many other people share her name, but it’s a weird experience all the same. Weirder than when she got her ID, certainly because she wasn’t expecting it.

“Found something?” Dean asks her.

Emma raises her head, wondering how much time she has been staring at the book.

“The title is...”

She can’t finish the sentence. It sounds so silly.

Dean glances at the book. A smile lifts the corners of his mouth.

“Your name.”

“It’s dumb to choose a book for that.”

“I read books only because a character shared my name,” Dean confesses, shrugging.

“Then it’s your fault.”

Emma freezes. She can’t have said that aloud.

A sound chokes in Dean’s throat. Emma stares at him. He’s laughing.

“I’m sorry you’re a weirdo because of me.” Dean takes the book from her hands. “I guess I have to buy you that book.”

He walks away with a light step. Emma blinks after him. He is weird—different from the Amazons—and he doesn’t mind them being related.

Emma drags back her attention on the books, smiling. No other title catches her attention the same way. They’re all different. Some are reduced to a word or a name, while others are a whole sentence, and there’s everything in between. Emma learns some titles don’t seem related to the content offered by the summary.

She starts frowning. Which one she should believe?

Clicking steps come closer to her. She turns around and ends up facing the woman.

“Can I help you?” Spotting Emma’s hesitation, she adds, “I’m the librarian.” She’s saying it with as much pride as Amazons talk about their fighting skills or Dean about cooking.

Emma glances at her dad. He gives her an encouraging smile.

“I’d like to buy a couple of books but I don’t know where to start.”

The woman’s eyes sparkle. She focuses them on the shelves, as if every book here are making her pride.

“What are the last books you liked?”

“I haven’t read books yet.”

The head snaps toward her. Emma nearly recoils. She reads dismay, pity then a fierce determination on the woman’s face.

“We’re going to change that. What themes you’re looking for in a story?”

“Something with... friendship? Family? Maybe some adventures.”

That’s what features in the movies she likes best.

The woman nods thoughtfully. “Recent or older books?”

“...Classics.”

It’s the word Dean uses for the best movies and food. Emma guesses it works with books too.

The woman nods again. Emma puffs her chest. She guessed right, it seems.

“I have some ideas... Follow me.”

Emma glances at Dean. He nods so she follows the librarian. The woman walks between the shelves without a hint of hesitation.

“What size of book you want?”

“The small ones.”

Her hand darts and takes a book from its shelf. She hands it to Emma.

“The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, the first book of the Chronicles of Narnia. Four siblings enter in a magical world.” She gives a little smile. “The story is much more than that, but it’d be more interesting if you discover it by yourself.”

Emma accepts the book and follows the woman in another aisle. The librarian picks another book with as little hesitation.

“Anne of Green Gables. It’s an orphan with a vivid imagination. She creates bonds with friends and finds a family.”

Emma’s heart makes a leap. She accepts that book too.

A third stop.

“Twenty Thousands Leagues Under the Sea, an adventure novel.” The librarian smile grows into a grin. “You can read them as stand-alones but if you love those words, know that their authors wrote more about them.”

Emma hugs the books against her chest. “Thank you.”

Emma carefully puts her books in her suitcase. She admires them for a bit before shutting it. She doesn’t know which one she’ll read first and it’s exciting.

“You didn’t want to read?” Dean asks, surprised.

“I thought we’d watch a movie,” Emma says.

That’s what they usually do, in the late afternoon, but maybe going to the bookstore changed that.

“Sure. We could watch Lost Boys.”

Emma frowns. “We... already watched it?”

Unless Dean is talking about another movie with the same title. Emma noticed some books and movies share the same title, despite not telling the same story.

“We... did?” Dean sighs, “We’ll watch something else then.”

“You want to watch Lost Boys?”

Dean motions her question away. “We can watch it another day.” Like tomorrow, he adds in a whisper. “What you’d like to watch?”

“A Disney movie?”

They watched several of them already. Hercules, Bambi, The Lion King... Parents often die in those stories. Despite this, the movies are telling tales of hope and finding something worth fighting for.

“Sure. Which one?”

“The Little Mermaid?”

They haven’t watched a movie happening in the water yet.

“Good choice. The movie is way better than the tale.”

“You say that everytime,” Emma points out, settling on the couch.

“It’s true everytime! Fairy tales having a happy end is a lie. Especially for the pining girls. Just see what happens to Faline or no-Ariel.”

Dean shudders dramatically. He sits next to her and gets the movie ready.

“Ready?”

“Ready.”

He starts the movie, an amused spark in his eyes. Emma watches the adventures of Ariel and her friends. She smiles every now and then, because she knows the use of all those tools but also because she understands this enthusiasm Ariel has in discovering a world she doesn’t know.

She doesn’t understand Ariel’s fixation on the prince or how she’s ready to leave everything for him—all those beautiful things and her loving family.

Once again, the good guys win and those who wanted to harm them are rendered harmless. Dean was right. Emma doesn’t get tired of it. She doesn’t think she ever will.

“Have you ever been in love?” she asks when the credits start.

“A couple of times.”

“It’s really like this?”

“Like...? Oh, you mean but Daddy I love him?”

Emma nods. Dean smiles in amusement, then sadness.

“Sometimes.”

“You wanted to leave everything?” Emma asks, unable to conceal her shock.

“Yeah.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“They slammed the door to my face before I could take the last jump.”

Emma’s expression falls. It sounds so sad. A laugh is startled out of Dean.

“There’s a reason I’m so harsh with the pining idiots. If you’re puzzled by this, wait to see Romeo and Juliet.”

“What it is?”

“The most famous romance of all times.”

Emma scrunches up her nose. It doesn’t sound appealing.

She lets a moment slips away.

“Amazons don’t fall in love. Do you think... it’ll happen to me?”

She doesn’t like the idea much. Friends look great, and having a loving family looks like an impossible dream. Romance on the other hand? It feels very complicated over nothing.

But if Amazons don’t fall in love and humans do... wouldn’t it be better if it happens to her too? It’d make her one step closer of Dean.

“Depends on the person.”

“Not about being human or not?”

“Nope. Some humans fall in love, others do not... Some m– creatures fall in love too. I’ve got a friend... She’s a demon and very in love with her husband.”

Emma doesn’t know what demons are, but since Dean is a hunter and is friend with her anyway, it means the leader lied about hunters.

Emma already knew, but it’s weird to see the evidences filling up like this.

“You know? The next movie we’ll watch is Oliver & Company...” He glances at his phone. “We can even watch it now, if you’re not tired.”

“I’m fine.”

She’s a little tired, but she’s curious about the movie. Dean is introducing it as a logical sequence to their talk. Questions about it will clutter her mind and prevent her to sleep anyway.

She’s glad of her choice. This movie is awesome.

Chapter Text

As soon as they finish their breakfast, while Dean opens his laptop to track the Leviathan, Emma spreads her books on her bed to compare them. She wants something new today. She won’t start with her namesake—it’s a romance, and she doesn’t want to read that now. Anne of Green Gables shares themes with Oliver & Cie, so Emma’d rather keep it for later. The action of Twenty Thousands Leagues Under The Sea takes place in the ocean, like The Little Mermaid, though it seems to be their only common point. The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe is a sheer novelty.

That’s the book she chooses.

Emma puts back her books in her suitcase before settling on her bed, cross-legged, and opening The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. The text draws her into its world at the very first sentence and images fill her mind. She follows Lucy and her siblings in the wonderful world of Narnia, meets Aslan... It’s as pleasant as watching a movie.

She only lifts her head when Dean calls her for lunch. She has the impression he called her several times without getting an answer, but she doesn’t dare to seek confirmation. She shouldn’t be as little aware of her surroundings.

But the novel is so interesting.

“We’ll have company today or tomorrow,” Dean announces as if it’s not a big deal.

Emma stares at him over her burrito.

“Company?”

“A friend texted me. It looks like she has some free time and wants to see me.”

“It looks like?” Emma echoes.

Dean shrugs. “I bet she’s just bored.”

“And... hm... I’ve got to...?”

“Nothing. I thought you’d like the head-up.”

Emma nods. Focusing on her novel after this is near to impossible. Emma’s mind keeps providing her with questions about this friend of Dean—who she is? how they met? is she a hunter too?

Will she like her?

Ironically, her lapse in concentration allows her to notice right away a change in the room. She quickly raises her head. A woman, with fair hair and dark eyes, appeared in the room, between Emma’s bed and the table. She’s wearing a flowing blue dress and is staring at Emma in puzzlement. Emma jumps on her feet, ready to drop her blade in her hand.

“D– Dean,” Emma calls, catching herself just in time.

Dean is already standing, watching the stranger. The woman turns around. She smirks and extends her arms. “Come on, Dean. That’s how you welcome an old friend?”

Dean studies her. His face softens. “Casey.” He starts opening his arms then frowns warily. Casey eyerolls.

“It’s okay. The meatsuit wouldn’t mind a hug from you.”

Dean levels an annoyed stare at her.

“I can say meatsuit. I treat them well, and leaves them happier than they were.”

Dean shakes his head slowly. “You’re so weird.” He walks to her and hugs her anyway. “It’s good seeing you.”

“I know.”

So this Casey is the friend Dean told her about.

Casey steps away from Dean to watch her. Emma freezes, not knowing what to do with herself.

“Who is she? She looks... familiar.”

“That’s Emma. My daughter.”

My daughter.

Emma’s heart grows bigger.

“Your daughter? How do you have a daughter and I know it only now?”

“She isn’t as old as she looks.”

“Really?”

“She’s two weeks.”

Casey’s eyebrows shoot up. “Maybe I should swing by more often. What would have happened in your life if I stayed away for a year?”

“I could die and come back a couple of times.”

“Certainly.” Casey glances at Emma. “I’ve got so many questions, but it’ll be for another time. Won’t you introduce us?”

“Can’t do it yourself?”

“That’s not how a gentleman should talk.”

“What makes who think I’m a gentleman?”

“Some foolish hope, it seems.”

Dean’s mouth quirks in a half-smile. “We’ve known each other for a while. You should be cured of that.”

Casey eyes Dean thoughtfully. Emma doesn’t know what to do with it. It’s not wrong per se, but the way Casey is studying Dean reminds her the way the leader studied her.

Dean turns toward her. “Emma, this is Casey.” He gestures at his friend. “She’s a demon.”

Casey’s eyes turn black. Emma suppresses a flinch.

“Casey, Emma.”

“And she is...?”

“An Amazon,” Emma answers defiantly.

Casey stares at her and laughs. It wasn’t the reaction Emma was hoping for. She wasn’t trying to scare her... only... She doesn’t want this Casey to think she’s harmless. Or to see her as a weakness that can be exploited.

“Only you would run away with the kid instead of getting killed. I mean... I did spare you, so I can’t blame her.” She looks at Emma, her eyes sparkling. “I guess you and I have this in common.”

Emma doesn’t know how to answer to that. She doesn’t know if she should answer at all.

“Gil isn’t here?” Dean asks.

“He’s busy.”

“Busy?” he echoes, judgement in his voice.

“You know me, I only uncover truths.”

Dean shakes his head slowly. “You’re talking trouble, Casey.”

“I can handle it. It’s easy.” Casey stretches. She sits on the table, dangling her legs. “The only trouble I’m seeing is that self-proclaimed king.”

“Here we go again,” Dean mutters.

He heads for the kitchen, turning his back on Casey. He opens the fridge and Emma has a flashback of their second meeting. She chances a glance to Casey but she keeps swaying her legs lazily, her mouth turned down in a pout.

“It’s not a little thing. We were promised a king who would lead us in battles and conquer the world. We were promised Lucifer.”

“An archangel who hates demons,” Dean retorts, shutting the door with his hip before walking back to them.

“Nobody’s perfect.”

Dean makes a sound. He hands a beer bottle to Casey, then gives an apple juice brick to Emma. He keeps the last beer for himself.

“That’s what you wanted, right? Hell united under one leader.”

“Yeah. A leader. A king. Not some... bureaucrat,” she spats in disgust. Her pout turns into a charming smile. She leans towards Dean. “Don’t you think you can... kill him maybe?”

“I’ve got other problems right now.”

“Leviathan.”

Interest appears in Dean’s eyes.

“Don’t get any idea, hot stuff. I don’t have a single information... except Crowley is working a deal with them.” She clicks her tongue disapprovingly. “That’s why we need a real king, someone with an ideal that isn’t only about keeping his place.”

“And as I said, it’s not my priority. Hell politics will never be my priority.”

“What a pity.”

“Why don’t you take care of it if it bothers you so much?”

“I don’t want to get drawn in the great scale of thing. Being a demon takes too much time already.” Casey sighs. “A bureaucrat can’t last long at this spot, right? Someone with a backbone has to replace him, someday.”

The words feel more like a prayer than a certainty. Casey sips at her beer. Emma doesn’t understand much of their conversation, but she’s sure of one thing: Dean is comfortable with Casey, as he isn’t the rest of the time. He looks at ease when he chats with other human beings but Emma is realizing it’s only an appearance. There’s something more, right now, with Casey.

Casey drags her attention on Emma and seems to forget about her complaints. Emma tenses. Her gut reaction is defiance, but she tones it down. Casey isn’t the leader. She doesn’t have to react that way.

Weird how her defiance hasn’t been instinctive with Dean.

“You’re quite pretty, really Dean’s daughter.”

Dean frowns. “Pretty?” he echoes before Emma can worry.

“You forgot what you look like?” Casey retorts without looking at him.

Dean scrunches up his face. It seems that pretty isn’t a word to be used toward humans—at least hunter ones.

“I could teach you to use it to your advantage.”

“Two weeks old Casey.”

Casey glances at Dean in amusement. “I don’t mean anything by it. She’s pretty and it’s a pity to ruin it. You can’t really give advices given your... lack of style.”

Dean frowns down at his clothes.

“Dean bought me a beautiful dress,” Emma defends her dad.

“Really? He can buy clothes that aren’t flannels?”

Emma recalls the horrid orange and pink flannel Dean tried to buy her and can’t reply.

“What are you playing at?”

“She’ll need guidance in some aspects of her life. She’s your daughter. I can’t not offer my help.”

“What? You want to be her godmother?”

Casey slides from the table and stands in front of Dean.

“I can’t tell if you’re mocking me because I am...” She points at her face and switches her eyes black. “Or if you’re being geniune.”

“Come on... You don’t expect me to believe you can’t really tell?”

They stare at each other. A smile draws itself on Casey’s face. She walks to Emma.

“I think we’re going to get along.” She adds in a whisper, “It’s a good thing you’re here.”

Emma’s heart makes a jump. A good thing?

“What do you mean?”

“I’ll tell you later. I’ve got a job to do.” She motions at Dean. “Take care.”

“I don’t have a choice.”

Casey grins. “I saw that.” She steps away from Emma. “Call me.”

“You don’t have a phone,” Dean points out.

“I’ll have to change my habits, if only for Emma being able to call me. I take my tasks seriously as you know.”

“Yeah, your mission,” Dean eyerolls.

“You and me both, honey.”

“Don’t get yourself killed.”

“Don’t you worry. The hunter who can end me isn’t born yet.”

Dean snorts. “I can end you.”

“Please! I could have ended you.”

Emma watches the banter, her curiosity about real life friends satisfied at last.

Casey’s expression softens. ”It’s good to see you like this.” She draws back her attention on Emma before Dean can answer. She waves and smiles at her. Emma waves back, a little puzzled.

Casey disappears. Emma startles. She blinks and looks around her, but Casey isn’t in the room anymore. Dean is shaking his head fondly.

“How did you meet?”

“On a hunt. Long story short, we trapped each other and then she convinced her husband to not kill me.”

Emma frowns. “Her husband wanted to kill you?”

“I’m a hunter, he’s a demon,” Dean says as if it’s obvious.

“But you became friend with Casey?”

“We had time to talk and got to know each other. We had nothing better to do.” Dean pauses. “It’s weird how some things change when you take the time to talk,” he muses.

Emma can only agree. Talking has changed what they were fated to do—killing each other. She talked as she never talked, said everything she had on her heart, and Dean listened. He understood.

“What is a godmother?”

“It’s... hm... a friend or a sibling of someone’s parents and who... hum... is here to help the kid too. And– And taking the kid in if something happens to the parent.”

It sounds nice... Not the parents having problems, but them caring enough about their children to make sure they’d be safe even if something happens to them.

“You were kidding,” Emma says wistfully.

Their relationship isn’t normal—Dean didn’t want her to begin with and she was meant to kill him—but... She frowns. Dean gave her a phone number, in case something happens to him.

“Casey is great. She’ll win you when you’ll spend more time together.”

“You weren’t kidding.”

“Nope.”

Emma shifts. If they weren’t kidding... if Dean is making sure she won’t be alone even if something happens to him... if he’s binding her to people who are a part of his life... doesn’t it mean that, maybe, he changed his mind about them parting ways?

Emma doesn’t dare to ask. She doesn’t want this thing spreading in her chest—this fragile, fluttering hope—to get destroyed. She likes better her optimistic uncertainty, the one telling that maybe Dean is seeing her like a daughter and not a job to complete.

“What are demons?”

Dean startles. Guilt stings Emma before she reminds herself this is Dean, not the leader. She can ask him anything she wants. He told her so and proved it time and time again.

Maybe that’s the problem. Dean has never looked so shocked by her lack of knowledge before, even when it concerns the daily life of humans.

“What do you know about... this world? You know, hunting, and monsters.”

“I know about my kind. About humans and hunters.”

“That’s all?”

Emma nods, hating to disappoint him.

Dean looks away.

“There’s so much more...”

“You told me about Leviathan.”

“That’s just the tip of the iceberg.” Dean drums his fingers on the table, his shoulders slumping forward. “It was stupid. You can’t be safe if you don’t know.”

He’s looking so sad, so guilty, that Emma feels bad. She studies him, disliking how he’s losing himself in his thoughts—a horrible contrast with the moments Casey spent with them.

“You want to watch Lost Boys?” she offers, hoping to make him smile.

He does smile.

But he doesn’t look less sad.

Chapter Text

Dean is always awake before her and he waits for her to wake up before cooking breakfast. Emma got used to it. It’s part of their routine.

But when she opens her eyes that morning, it’s to see Dean sitting at the table, a pen in his hand, drawing something in a book. Emma sits up, trying to catch a glimpse of what he’s doing. She’s too far. Feeling her eyes on him, Dean lifts his head. He smiles, closing the book.

“You slept well?”

“Yes.”

Dean heads for the kitchen. Emma leaves her bed and walks past the table. It’s almost on her way to the bathroom.

The book’s cover is in leather and there isn’t a title on it, like the one Dean reads all the time.

Emma locks herself in the bathroom, questions filling her mind.

The same thing happens the next two days.

Emma is confused, all the more since their routine is mostly left unchanged. She reads, watches TV or surfs the web, while Dean searches for the Leviathan. They pause for lunch and, later in the afternoon, watch a movie together.

It makes this change even more obvious.

Maybe it’s a hobby, she tells herself.

It’s something humans have. They don’t only live for a mission and ensuring their continued existence. They do things that brings them satisfaction or joy.

Emma guesses reading books and watching movies are her hobbies, which means she’s closer to her human legacy than her Amazon legacy.

The thought is followed by a shard of guilt. It’s a selfish reason to give up on her ancestors. Turning away from them to survive is one thing, but this...? Somehow it feels worse than working with a hunter. Maybe because she knows Harmonia and Ares would despise her for this.

Humans don’t talk about them in their books and movies. Dean doesn’t talk about them either. It’s easy to forget they exist.

But did they forget about her? The leader talked so often about the gift Harmonia offered to them and the gratitude they owe her that Emma can’t help but wonder what happens to ungrateful Amazons.

“You fine?”

Dean’s voice brings her out of her mind. She blinks at his coffee, the question on the tip of her tongue. She swallows it back. Dean isn’t an Amazon. How could he know about Harmonia and her purposes?

“I’m fine,” she says, plunging her spoon in the cereals.

The routine makes her forget about Harmonia.

“Should I get up sooner?” she asks on the third day.

“Why?”

“You’re always awake soon. I don’t want to waste your time.”

They talked about this, but things changed. Dean changed.

“I’ve dreadful habits.”

“Sure?”

Dean nods, and the matter is settled once again.

Emma’s curiosity about the book only gets stronger, but she doesn’t dare to ask. She doesn’t know what is holding her back.

It’s like the picture, Emma realizes, the fourth day.

Dean is careful in a way showing it matters to him. Emma doesn’t want to steal that from him, and asking questions would feel like this. She likes to keep some thoughts she has about the books or the movies for herself, as well as some of the things she likes about them. It feels more precious.

Dean announces he has a hunt in the middle of the afternoon. It’s a part of their routine too.

They pack their belongings and set off for Coeur d’Alene, Idaho.

They settle in another motel. Dean gives her his usual warnings before leaving. He comes back a couple of hours later, his mood darker, something gnawing at him. He heads for his bag and pulls a salt jar from it. He pours it along the windows, explaining to Emma it wards off ghosts and demons.

“You mean Casey can’t appear here?”

A muscle works in Dean’s jaw. “Yeah. She’d be stuck outside.”

Emma is surprised the little white grains hold that much power. Humans aren’t as weak as Amazons say, it seems. Otherwise, how something so harmless to them could have that much power on other beings?

She frowns.

“What does Casey eat then?”

Dean stops in the middle of a line. He turns and blinks.

“What?”

“We had salt on our fingers when we ate fries.” It has been a very good meal. “Does that mean Casey can’t move a fry?”

Dean blinks again. A surprised laugh escapes him.

“I never thought about that.” He smirks. “Maybe I should throw a fry at Casey’s face next time she bothers me. To check.”

He shakes his head and finishes the barrier. Emma is happy to see his mood getting lighter, even if she doesn’t know how she did it and she’d never be able to make this miracle occur again.

Before leaving, the next day, Dean asks her to pour a line of salt behind the door. He hesitates on the threshold, retraces his steps and lays his flask on the table. Emma’s brow furrows. This object is important for him. He never goes anywhere without it. Forgetting it is what pushed him to see her mom again and made them meet for the first time.

He meets her worried eyes.

“It’s... kinda like a lucky charm. I’d feel better if you keep it with you.”

Emma blinks. She glances at the flask.

“I’ll take care of it.”

“Watch over each other.”

Weird thing to say to an object, but what does Emma know about it? Dean is the only human she spends time with. Maybe they all talk about some objects as if they are people.

Dean stares at the flask. He murmurs something that Emma doesn’t hear and leaves.

Emma draws a line of salt behind the closed door.

She’s alone in their motel room. Her eyes find Dean’s bag. That’s where he puts the book. She could read it and discover what it’s about, but she won’t.

She walks back to her bed, smiling. She’s trustworthy and she doesn’t have to struggle for it.

She takes Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Seas of her suitcase, sits on her bed and starts reading it.

Dean whisks by for lunch, bringing fries. They share an amused glance over their plates.

Dean exits the room as quickly. Emma redraws the line of salt before sitting on her bed and resuming her novel.

The light dims outside, lessening her focus. She glances at the door, wondering when Dean will be back. He’s been gone for a while.

(A look at her phone tells her he left seven hours ago.)

She heats up macaroni and eats her dinner. A meal—even a good one—isn’t as nice when you don’t share it with someone.

Dean isn’t back yet.

Emma isn’t in the mood to watch a movie. It’s not easy, but she manages to focus back on Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Seas. But her senses are on alert and she raises her head when she hears keys fumbling in the lock. The door opens. Emma’s book slips from her hands. A shocked cry dies in her throat. Dean stills on the threshold, something flashing in his eyes.

“It’s not as bad as it looks.”

Blood and bruises are staining his face. There are bloodstains on is shirt. It does look bad, and his words aren’t comforting.

Emma’s heart jumps in her throat. She leaps to her feet—to fight or to flight, she doesn’t know. Dean raises his hands in a soothing motion, as if he’s trying to calm down a frightened animal.

“I got worse and I’m still kicking, okay?”

“Worse?” Emma echoes weakly.

How it’d be if it was worse?

Emma remembers why the leader sent her to her dad. She thinks about Casey, and how Dean told her he’d have the time to die and come back to life if she spaces her visits too much. Emma thought they were kidding. Now she wonders if there’s any truth in those words, if, one day, her dad died.

He can be hurt. He can die.

She knew so. It’s the fate of every living being, and it’s truer for warriors. It shouldn’t disturb her so much.

“I thought you’d be sleeping.” He smiles sadly. Emma winces. It’s certainly pulling at his wounds. “I forgot how it is on that side.”

Emma doesn’t understand what he’s talking about. She doesn’t care. He’s hurt and she’s unable to see anything else.

Dean closes the door and locks it. He faces her again.

“I’ll patch up and look better in no time, alright?”

Emma can only hint a nod.

Hurt flashes in Dean’s expression and she thinks he downplayed his pain. He crosses the room and locks himself in the bathroom. Emma listens the water running. Everytime she blinks, she sees her dad’s bruised face behind her eyelids.

Her legs feel shaky. She drops on her bed. She stands back right away. Sitting feels wrong. She scans over the room, her heart hammering like a scared prey. She moves her wrist, checking her blade can fall in her hand. She keeps her ears and her eyes open, ready to react to... anything. Everything.

The bathroom’s door opens and she nealy jumps out of her skin. She swirls around. Dean hovers on the threshold. The blood has been washed out and his wounds don’t look so serious anymore. Even the bruises look paler. It’s better. But he’s still hurt.

And the other image is burnt into her mind.

“You see? I’m almost as good as new.”

Dean moves slowly, careful to not startle her.

“What happened?”

Dean stops and shifts on his feet. Of course. He doesn’t like talking about his job with her.

Dean gestures at her to sit at the table, with him. Settling at the very place they share meals is comforting. It’s even better to see Dean sitting on his usual seat, looking mostly fine.

“I was working on a case.”

Emma nods. She knew that much.

“It was a demon.”

Emma’s mind darts to Casey and her black eyes. She doesn’t know what being a demon entails exactly, but they move fast.

“But mostly a human.”

“But humans are weak!”

She winces as soon as her words leave her mouth. Dean is human, and she isn’t Amazon enough to say that kind of thing. Doesn’t she spend most of her time thinking she has a better life as a human, without the duty of the Amazons? You can’t reach for everything in your life. It’s greedy, a bad thing for humans and Amazons alike.

“You should never underestimate them.”

Emma scrunches up her nose. It sounds more like a warning than a scolding... like that time Dean talked about the little boy she met.

“I noticed the threat almost too late, but it’s settled.”

Dean doesn’t sound satisfied. Maybe he’s blaming himself for having almost failed. According to Amazons, being wounded proves you’re lacking skills.

Emma is just glad he’s mostly okay.

Dean stands and pats her shoulder. “I’m sorry to have worried you.”

“Right.”

Dean searches something in her eyes. “You want us to leave now?”

“Shouldn’t you rest?”

“I’m fine enough to drive a couple of hours.”

Emma looks around. There’s something threatening about the room now. She nods.

“Let’s pack our things.”

She’s relieved to have something to do. She gathers all her belonging, putting them back to their rightful place. She hangs her bag on her shoulder and drags her suitcase behind her. As she walks away from her bed, something metallic catches her eyes. She scampers to the table and recovers the flask. She hands it to Dean. He thanks her with a smile.

They settle in the car and drive away. Emma relaxes only when they cross the border of the state.

While she draws the blankets over her, in their new motel room, Emma realizes that Dean never looks proud or happy when he comes back from his hunts.

She guesses hunting is more complicated than following the fate made by your mothers.

Would I end up that sad if I become a hunter?

She doesn’t have an answer. She can’t figure herself a world that would be heavier than the Amazons.

The answer doesn’t matter much, in the end. She thinks about Dean who was six when he held a weapon, and who’s now thirty-three—Emma saw his birthdate on his ID. It means he’s hunting for twenty-seven years.

She can’t fathom it. It’s so long. Anyone would be tired of anything after such a long time, wouldn’t they?

It’s sad to think Dean isn’t content with his life.

Chapter Text

The next morning, Dean acts as if nothing changed, resuming his routine, taking notes in his book. Emma supposes nothing changed. Hunting is and has always been his life. He said he had worse, and Emma believes him.

His state is as little serious as he claimed after coming back from his hunt, but Emma only sees those marks that show he can be hurt. The fact it’s not as serious as she first thought doesn’t change anything.

When Emma joins him at the table for breakfast, Dean doesn’t shut his book right away. He adds a couple of words, closes it and hands it to Emma.

“I wrote down some stuff, about the jobs I did, what I met. You were wondering about it. It’s not Vonnegut, but I think it’s clear enough.”

“You...” Emma takes the book carefully and puts it on the table. She lays a hand on the leather cover, without daring to open it. “Thank you.”

Dean shrugs, as if it’s not a big deal.

Emma looks at the brown cover. “Does that mean you want me to follow in your footsteps?”

She doesn’t mind... she thinks. She has to do something with her life and she’s an Amazon. She’s born to fight and to kill. What else could she do?

“I– No. Hunting isn’t a life for children.”

But is she really a child?

She doesn’t ask outloud. She doesn’t want Dean to answer she isn’t. It’s nice to be treated like a child.

“But you’re giving me this knowledge.”

“You have one foot in this world, because of what me and your mom are,” Dean answers, as if her mom and he are both different from humans. Emma files this for later. “It may help you someday, but I hope you won’t need it. Better be safe than sorry.”

Would have she been treated like this once on the Mother Island or the leader would have kept giving her only the informations she needs before each mission?

What does it matter? I’m here, and now.

“Thanks D– Dean.”

She catches herself just in time again. She doesn’t know how long it’ll last. She worries about Dean’s reaction if she slips. Their balance feels so fragile—he’s a hunter and she’s an Amazon, she’s an Amazon and he’s her father—she doesn’t dare to test it.

Maybe one day.

After their breakfast, Emma settles on her bed with the book. She opens the cover, then its first page. The first thing that draws her attention is a circle surrouded by flames and holding a five-pointed star in the middle of the page. Above is written Guide and underneath it...

Her heart swells too big for her chest.

For Emma.

She brushes the letters.

For me.

She’d never have imagined to receive such a gift.

She ventures behind the first page. One of the pages is covered with drawings and the other provides informations. All of this is handmade. Every word, every strike of pen, cover to cover, was made for her. Emma wonders how many hours Dean spared for this instead of chasing the Leviathan.

Emma discovers a world that is mostly unknown to her. Ghosts, Werewolves, Vampires, Shapeshifters, Djinns... She doesn’t hurry to burn the informations in her mind as she usually does. She studies the drawing first, then reads the text, then looks at the drawing again, before discovering the next page.

She learns how to identify and defend herself from those beings. She reads about exceptions. Not all creatures are bad, the book seems to say.

(Not all humans are good, it also says.)

She learns that most of them starts as humans and change, unlike Amazons. And unlike Amazons, they have fangs and claws and supernatural abilities like shapeshifting or teleporting. She understands why Amazons didn’t tell her about this world. Those beings look stronger, and have more gifts than those Harmonia offered them.

Her heart speeds up at the blasphemous thought, but nothing happens. She pushes it away all the same. Better not to tempt fate.

She learns there are other gods than Harmonia and Ares, gods coming from other pantheons, who walk over the world and expect humans to worship them, who eat humans.

Emma’s mind flashes to one of the rituals and the piece of meat. Nausea rises in her throat. She stares at the drawing of a Scarecrow—a Vanir—, focusing on its details until it chases the memory away.

There are demons like Casey, except most of them aren’t like Casey. They used to be humans before ending up Hell and being turned.

When you’re human, you risk to be turned in many things it seems.

“What are souls?” she asks.

“Wow. Big question.”

“You talk about it in the Guide.”

“Yeah. It’s– um– something most living being have, that keep living after death, kinda. Souls have power, so Heaven and Hell fight to have them.”

Most living beings, Dean said. Not humans. Yet the guide talks about human souls turning into ghosts or following reapers or becoming demons.

“Do I have a soul?”

“Yeah.”

“Where it’ll go?”

“I... maybe Purgatory. I don’t know much about it, only–” There’s a pained flash across his face. He shakes his head. “Only that’s the place where are... vampire and djinn and werewolf souls. That’s also where Leviathan used to live.”

Emma nods and resumes her reading. She soon falls on the Leviathan’s entry. The drawing shows a wide mouth, opening on emptiness behind sharp fangs. They’re hideous. She learns more in the three paragraphs that what Dean accepted to tell her those last weeks. It certainly bothered him to write all of this, and yet he did. Because he thinks it’s the best thing to do for her.

After the Leviathan, there’s Eve, the Mother of All Monsters, who created most of the beings in this book, except demons.

And Amazons.

A question appears in her mind. She files it for later, if there isn’t an answer in the next pages of her Guide.

She discovers four powerful horsemen and learns that Death is more than a concept: it’s a sentient being, who walks in this world, leading his reapers.

A huge wing is drawn across both pages. It’s entirely black and, yet, each feather is beautifully detailled. She likes every drawing of Dean but this one feels special. There was more care in doing it. More details.

Angels. They work for Heaven, the place fighting Hell for souls. They’re the soldiers of God and have many powers—they can fly, enter someone’s mind, time-travel... Dean talks about their way to see the world, calls them self-righteous pricks, but something lacks. He doesn’t refer to their weakness.

The next page introduces the four archangels, who are stronger than angels. And that’s all. The next pages are blank.

“How you’re supposed to defeat an angel?”

Dean raises his head from his laptop.

“What?”

“You didn’t write how to defeat them, but you wrote it for all the others.”

“Oh? I– Yeah. Angel blades. I’ve got a couple of them in the trunk. And Enochian wardings.”

Something in Dean’s voice prevents her to ask for more informations.

“You didn’t put Amazons.”

“You know everything you need to know about them.”

He isn’t wrong.

“Do you think other gods created other races like Amazons?”

“I’ve got no idea.” Dean shrugs. “But I’m hunting for years and I keep discovering things. I didn’t know dragons were real before last year. Or... or that angels were real. Or vampires,” he adds with more confidence. “And there’s like tons of lore and stories about them.” He pinches his lips. “Maybe I should have made an entry about hunters.”

“Why?”

“Some of them... aren’t good. Others are dangerous.”

“Aren’t they the good guys?”

“The world is way more complicated. They’re humans. Some humans are monsters.”

“You don’t trust other hunters?”

“I trust some of them. Jods. Garth.”

Only two.

“How many hunters there are?”

“I don’t know.”

Amazons always know how many they are. They’re supposed to trust each other blindly because they all have the same goal.

“But you have the same goal, right?”

“Not always. Some hunters think that every... creature should die.”

“Not you.”

Dean has a wry smile. “It took me some time but, yeah, I’m not like that anymore.”

Emma is grateful for it. That kind of hunter would have killed her without a second thought.

The next day, Emma looks at the Guide again. She read it all yesterday but she’s amazed by it. Dean created it to teach her things, but he could have chosen to only sum up the knowledge he gathered as a hunter. He took the time to write whole texts and to share some episodes of his life, to add drawings.

She opens the Guide randomly on Eve’s page. She traces the letters with her fingertip. E-v-e. T-h-e m-o-t-h-e-r o-f a-l-l.

She worries at her lower lip.

If you don’t ask, you’ll never have an answer.

Gathering her courage, she says, “Dean? Can you teach me how to write?”

Dean raises his head quickly. “What?”

It’s not a no so, despite her embarrassment, she insists. “I’d like to learn to write.”

“But– I though– you know how to read. How you don’t know how to write?”

“Mom taught me.”

Her throat tightens as she remembers her mom, kneeling next to her, a book in her hands, reading it aloud and following the words with her finger. After listening to this example, the rest was quite easy to figure out.

“It was an expected skill, to read signs and addresses,” she continues. “Writing wasn’t useful yet.”

Dean keeps staring at her. He shakes his head. Emma’s heart starts to sink but he shuts his laptop and pushes it in a corner of the table. He gathers the sheets of paper he uses to take notes and grabs a pen before it can roll off of the table.

“It’s not much but it’ll be enough for a first lesson.”

“Now?”

Dean nods. Emma feels a smile spread on her face as she walks to the table. She didn’t think Dean would drop his mission to teach her to write right away.

She moves her chair to sit next to him.

“Kids usually learn with lined papers, but Sam and I did it like this, so...”

Dean traces the letters one below the other, repeating each letter twice—one in capital, the next the small version of it—until he wrote them all. He’s tracing them slowly, unlike when he usually takes notes. He slides the paper to her and hands her the pen.

“Your turn.”

Emma copies each letter next to their model. The eye-hand coordination is trickier than for holding a sword, but she likes it.

Dean whistles. “That was quick.”

“It’s easy.”

“It took weeks for Sam.”

A bubble of pride bursts into Emma’s chest. Being an Amazon does have its advantages.

Dean writes a list of words—Emma notices quickly they are movie, book and music titles—showing how the letters combine or space out to create words. Emma succeeds it even more quickly. She’s getting used to it. She’s almost regretting it. She wouldn’t have minded to spend more hours in Dean’s company, like this.

But Dean smiles proudly and she guesses it’s not bad.

“It looks like my handwriting, but it’ll do the job.”

Emma likes that their handwritings are so similar.

Now she knows the basics of writing, Emma gives a try to drawing.

She skims through the Guide until the page with the wing. She studies it and tries to copy it. It’s not as easy as it looks. She focuses and keeps going, but the result is messy, with lines too long or too short and wrong proportions.

Emma draws a werewolf, then a vampire, with the same result. She tries one of the reapers—a woman with big eyes and dark hair—but it isn’t better.

This is frustrating. Why can’t she do something so simple? She only needed one try to learn to write after Dean showed he how.

Maybe that’s the problem.

She didn’t see Dean create those drawings. She nearly asks him but he’s working. He already put his research aside to teach her to write yesterday. She won’t turn it into a habit. It’s not that important.

Emma waits for their lunch break to ask Dean to draw something.

“What?”

She shrugs. She doesn’t really care.

Dean ponders. An idea shines in his eyes and he grabs the pen. He’s looking so pleased with himself that Emma thinks he’s going to draw something related to Lost Boys. A black car takes shape on the page. Dean adds it wheels, fender, headlights and even a licence plate. He shows the result to her, grinning.

“That’s my baby.”

Emma frowns in confusion. “That’s a car.”

“Not a car. She’s a 1967 Chevy Impala, the best car ever made. Once this whole Leviathan buisiness is over, I’ll introduce you to each other.”

You can be introduced to a car?

“What the Leviathan have to do with this?”

Dean sighs. “Baby is too easy to recognize. I mean... look at her! They’d spot her in no time. That’s a shame, because you don’t put Baby in the corner.”

He grins again. Emma’s understanding it means something, but she can’t tell why for the life of her.

“Dirty Dancing. Patrick Swayze. I didn’t make you watch it?”

“...No.”

“Then we know what movie we’re watching tonight!”

Dean jumps from his seat and heads for the kitchen, humming. Emma uses the time he’s cooking lunch to copy the Baby, drawing it in the same order as Dean. Despite this precaution, the result isn’t the same.

Emma keeps trying after lunch. Each of her failures feels like an insult. Why can’t she do it? She understands how it works. She saw Dean drawing. She has many examples of drawings in the Guide.

Then why can’t she do it?

“I can’t!” Emma mutters.

She feels the weight of a gaze on her. When she raises her head, she meets Dean’s interrogative eyes. Shame flames up her face and she wants to be swallowed by the ground. She’s throwing a tantrum, like those tiny human children she sees on TV. That’s unworthy of her.

“You can’t learn everything at once.”

That’s how I usually do, though, Emma prevents herself to retort.

“It’s very good for first tries,” Dean comments, watching her drawings.

“They aren’t as good as yours.”

“I’ve got more experience.”

Emma hesitates, then says, “But I don’t need to train that much. I watch, I remember, and it’s enough.”

Or it should be.

A lump gets stuck in her throat. What if she can’t learn anything anymore?

“This isn’t useful,” Dean comments in a thoughtful voice.

“What?”

“You learn quickly things that can be useful to you, but that’s not how art works.”

Emma frowns at her drawing. Dean is right. Amazons are no artists. They are warriors. They learn quickly things that can be useful to them. What’s the point in growing up quickly if your mind doesn’t follow? Emma thinks back about what she learnt with her mom, the leader and Dean. All of this can be useful according to Harmonia’s plans, even if Emma ended up using her reading skills to entertain herself. But drawing... there’s no way she can twist drawing in something useful for the Amazon destiny. They don’t need it to blend among mankind or fight.

She’ll have to learn it as slowly as humans usually learn.

This is frightening. How much time it’ll take? Days, weeks?

Years?

Her breath shakes. How can you spare that much time to learn only one thing, without getting quick results?

She wants to ask Dean but he’s focusing on his laptop again. The matter is closed. She looks at the pen in her hand, at her badly proportioned drawing and at Dean’s drawing of Baby.

Years.

Her breath gets stuck in her chest.

“Emma, look at that.”

Dean is smiling. He turns his laptop. Emma frowns at the screen and leans forward. There are many ugly little pictures. She can’t tell what they’re supposed to represent. She guesses the shapes surmounted by circles are characters or people... so what is inside the circles are faces.

“What are those?”

“Kid drawings. They are between five and eight years old.” Dean grins proudly. “You see? You’re skilled.”

It’s true that Emma’s drawings are much better than those.

“Humans need eight years to reach that drawing level?”

“Yeah.”

“You started like this too?”

Dean laughs. “Yes.” He looks wistful. “There’s no proof left of it, though.” He chases those thoughts away. “And you’ve got to find your own style. That takes time, too.”

“My own style?” Emma echoes.

Dean motions at her to sit closer. He turns the laptop and types something else. Emma draws her chair closer, brimming with curiosity. New drawings filled the screen, way better than the children’s ones... and none of them look alike. Some are in black and white, others in color. Some are realist, others whimsical. There are drawings and paintings. Some of them are displayed in museum and famous worldwide.

“The journey is the funniest about this. You can try different things and find what suits you the most. Or what you like the most.” Dean smiles. “It’s not about efficiency.”

Emma nods. She thinks she understands.

Chapter Text

Dean steps in the motel room, holding their breakfast drinks. He shoots Emma a smile that puzzles her. It’s the same kind of smile he has before cooking a meal or watching one of his favorite movies.

Dean puts his coffee and her cocoa on the table. He turns toward her, still smiling. He produces a pink little book from an inside pocket of his jacket and hands it to her.

“What’s this?” Emma asks, reaching for it.

She skims through its pages and discovers all of them are blank.

“A notebook. You can write or doodle anything you want there.”

She raises surprised eyes on her dad. Before she realizes what she’s doing, she’s hugging him. Dean stiffens in surprise. Emma scrambles away. She’s about to apologize when he pats her hair. She tries a smile.

“Thanks for the notebook. It’s awesome.”

Dean startles, his eyes rounding. Emma wonders if she said something she shouldn’t have, but he shakes his head and smiles.

“Our drinks will get cold.”

Emma sits at the table without letting go of her notebook.

Emma adds drawing and writing at her routine.

Technically, she added them before having the notebook, but it feels more important and official now. Emma ventures to write some of her thoughts and ideas. Sometimes she tries to draw—she’s still not as good as Dean but she does have some skills—or she doodles.

She realizes soon enough her drawing progress makes her prouder than her usual quick success. It looks like there’s a cause-and-effect relationship between the pride you have doing something and the efforts it demands from you.

The days go by and, despite her contentment, anxiety rises in her stomach. Dean never stays long without hunting. He’s going to work on a case as soon as he’ll find one.

The idea pops in her mind more and more often. So when Dean shuts suddenly his laptop, she jumps on her feet. Dean casts her a surprised glance.

“You’re fine?”

“Errr... yeah.”

Are you leaving to hunt?

“If you say so...”

Dean doesn’t sound convinced. Emma winces. She really is a bad liar.

“I’ll run errands. You want something?”

“I’m coming with you!”

Dean frowns and shrugs. “Okay.”

They only go to the closest convenience store. Emma shakes her head at herself. There was no need to be so jumpy.

When Dean pays for their groceries, she notices once again the many ID cards he has—because of the Leviathan but also for hunting, he told her. Will she have to own that many cards if she becomes a hunter?

“We stayed around too long,” Dean says as they walk back to the car.

“We did?”

Dean nods gloomily. He doesn’t start the car radio, nor does he fills the silence with comments. Emma wonders if there’s a problem.

“Don’t forget anything,” Dean advises her.

Emma nods. She never forgets anything, but she’s glad for the reminder when she packs her belonging. Most of her stuff are out of her baggages. Anne of Green Gables and The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe—she reread some passages—are piled up on her nightstand with her notebook, drawings are scattered on the table and on the coffee table—it’s nice to have something to do with your hands when you’re casually watching TV and not engrossed in a movie.

She packs everything then walks around the room to be sure she left nothing behind. Dean doesn’t hurry her. Emma eyes him as they walk out, wondering if he shouldn’t be annoyed by her disorganization.

They sit in the car. Dean starts the engine and Emma asks him about his ID cards. Dean hands her his wallet and drives the car away. Emma grabs a handful of IDs. Most of them don’t even figure her dad’s first name.

One stops her.

Dean Campbell.

She stares at the letters, almost expecting them to change. They don’t. Dean is using the same name than the one he gave her. Humans have the same name as their relatives, the people who are important to them.

“You... the names...”

Emma doesn’t know how to word her question, so Dean answers to the obvious one.

“Dean Winchester is searched by the law. It was before the Leviathan. I’ve got a couple of problems with the FBI.” He scrunches up his nose. “I hope Sam didn’t have too many problems because of it.”

Sam, his younger brother.

“Why he’d have problems?”

“They tend to annoy every relatives and Sam was my only family left.”

Was.

The past tense grips Emma’s attention. She tries to be normal about it. It doesn’t mean anything.

Well, it doesn’t mean anything about her.

“How you chose Campbell?”

“It’s my mom’s name, before she married my dad and became a Winchester.”

Emma’s heart jumps. She remembers the woman on the picture, holding young Dean and smiling to the camera. It changes everything. Dean didn’t give her this name to keep her away and disowns her. It was to protect her, while making her a part of his family. He gave her his mom’s family name, this woman he loves and admires and misses. Emma wouldn’t give her mom’s name to something she doesn’t care about, and she knows Dean is like this too.

She wonders if she misunderstood other things.

“I... heard about it. Women changing their names for men.”

Dean laughs.

“You’re gonna be a warrior feminist in no time.”

“What it is?”

“People who fight for women right. Things are better than they were, but there’s still progress to make.” He pauses, thinking. “Men can take their wives’ names but they rarely do.”

“You would?”

“What?”

“Take your wife’s name.”

Dean blinks rapidement, surprised. “I... Well... If things were different, I wouldn’t have minded.”

“If you weren’t a hunter?”

“And legally dead.”

Ah, yes. Emma forgot about that part.

She eyes her dad, lost on memory lane. She needs to learn more about him and his past to understand him and their interactions better.

“Dean?”

“Hum?”

“Do you regret it?”

“What?”

“Being a hunter. Not being married.”

She stops her list right here. She doesn’t know enough about normal human daily life to sketch a realistic picture of it.

Dean takes his time answering, but Emma sees that he will. He isn’t ignoring her question. He’s thinking about it. It’s nice how he’s always listening.

“Hunting isn’t a good life, but someone has to do it and... I haven’t known anything else. Better me than someone else.” He drums his fingers on the wheel. “I felt lonely for a long time, but it’s in this life that I met the most important people of my life.”

“Like Casey?”

“Yeah. And if I had become Dean Robinson, you wouldn’t be here.”

Emma is so pleased she doesn’t ask who Robinson is.

Dean smiles and starts the car radio.

When they settle in their new motel room, Emma decides to be more careful. From now on, she’ll only pull what she’s using, so her baggages would be always ready. They had time to pack their belonging, but what would happen if they have to hurry? She doesn’t want to lose anything. All her belonging are treasures. Some are remnants of her too short childhood and gifts from her mom, the rest are gifts from her dad.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

Despite the authorization, Emma feels a little self-conscious. Taking resolutions is one thing, keeping them is another.

Dean waits patiently.

“Campbell is your mom’s name. Can– How was she? Your mom? You showed me a picture but...”

“But you’d like to hear about her?”

Emma nods. “I’d like to see the picture again too.”

Dean smiles and gestures at her to wait. He opens one of his bags and takes carefully a metal tin from it—as carefully as the piece of cloth... Emma wonders if both are related. He heads for the sofa. Emma and he sit down. Dean puts the box on the coffee table and takes a stack of photos from it. Emma hardly dares to breathe anymore. There are several pictures. The first is the one she already saw, with Dean and his mom. She looks gentle. Emma wonders if Dean gets his kindness from her.

“This is Mary Winchester, née Campbell. It’s an old hunter family.”

Emma’s brow furrows. She thought Dean’s father was the hunter. She recalls him saying his father put a gun in his hands and taught him to kill monsters, more similar to the leader than to her mom.

“She tried to get away. My dad didn’t know about hunting until her death. I don’t think he knew who she was before him.”

Emma tries to connect the woman with gentle eyes to a hunter. She looks at her dad. Maybe being nice out of the battlefield is how hunters are and Amazons are the only warriors who think you have to devote each second of your life to the fight.

She recalls her dad’s warnings about other hunters and figures they’re an exception.

Maybe I can be like that too.

What if she’s able to be a warrior when she has to fight and it only turns off when she isn’t in danger?

She’ll have to check this theory.

“Was she skilled?”

Dean smirks. “The best. She could knock me out with one punch.”

Emma frowns. If Dean was four years old when she died, she was obviously stronger than him—and even the leader wouldn’t push around such a small child. She doesn’t know what to think about this woman anymore.

“I time-travelled and met her younger self, when she was still a hunter.”

“Oh.”

How it’d be to meet her own mom on the battlefield before she became her mom?

“Both her parents were hunters. I’m named after her mom.”

“So I’m from a long line of female warriors.”

Emma winces. She shouldn’t have said that.

“Not wrong. There’re only badass women on that side. By the way, the most famous Campbell is a woman too. Moishe.”

“What about your father’s family?”

“I don’t know much... only that his dad abandoned him and his mom when he was a kid.”

“That’s horrible.”

“Yeah.”

They share a silence. Dean puts the picture at the end of the stack. The next shows Mary again, with a dark-eyed and dark-haired man. They look happy.

“They’re my parents.”

Emma nods. Dean is looking at them with fondness. Will she have this expression, one day, when she’ll talk about her mom or Dean?

There are two children on the next picture: Dean, as small as he’s on the picture with his mom, holding a baby.

“That’s me and Sam. He’s named after mom’s dad.”

He makes a face.

“You don’t like your mom’s father?”

“He came back from the dead only to sacrifice me to bring mom back.”

Emma blinks. “Family... is more complicated than I thought.”

Dean scoffs, amused. “It’s one way of putting it.”

“Where’s your brother?”

“Now? He has a job, and a wife. Maybe kids now.” Dean smiles a little. “He has a good life.”

“Isn’t he a hunter?”

“He used to hunt, before.”

Emma frowns. Didn’t Dean say that, once you’re in this world, it’s your responsability to keep fighting?

On the next photo, Emma spots a group composed of three men—Dean included—and two women in a room, before seeing his hand tense. She raises her head and sees a shadow of pain crossing his face. He puts back the photos in order and locks them in the box.

“Other questions?”

Emma shakes her head.

“Good.”

He raises to his feet and walks away, moving tautly.

“Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m glad to be a Campbell.”

His face softens.

Later, Emma studies her ID card. She thinks about Dean saying Sam was his only family left. She thinks about the name Campbell and Dean’s mom and the pictures he’s keeping of her because he loves her, even if she died long ago.

She fiddles with her necklace. Amazons were wrong on many things. There are other ways to be a warrior than being ruthless and killing without reason. There are strong women and strong female warriors among mankind. Maybe they’re even stronger than Amazons, since they don’t need to perform all those rituals and to be watched over by gods.

She thinks about the last picture.

I wonder who those people are.

Two older people—a man and a woman—, a middle-aged man and a young woman.

Dean told her hunting is a sad life and you lose everyone. He lost both his parents. His little brother, who he raised, lives far away from him.

Did he lose those people too?

If he did, why it’s still hurting him that much? Why he didn’t watch them fondly, as he did for his parents? Because it happened more recently?

(He doesn’t look much younger on those pictures.)

Who would have known having the answers to some questions just led you to wonder so many other things?

Chapter Text

Emma feels more confident. She studied her guide and remembers every bit of information. She’s from a great line of hunters, people skilled to fight but able to have some kind of normal life.

She’s a failed Amazon, but maybe she can be a skilled hunter and honors her female human ancestors.

(Except Dean, her male ancestors don’t seem worth to be honored.)

Emma knows to write, now. It’s not related to hunting, but it builds her confidence all the same.

It’s certainly the reason she feels bold enough to ask Dean to allow her to accompany him when he tells her about his new hunt. Dean hesitates, as she expects.

“Hunting isn’t a life for a kid.”

Emma wants to insist something in Dean’s eyes prevents her too. She deflates, her confidence thawing quicker than it built itself. How can she discover if she’s a good warrior if she can’t prove herself in the field?

Dean heads for the door, unaware of her turmoil. “Take care,” he says.

Emma’s heart twists as memories of Dean coming back from his last hunt fills her mind. She clenches and unclenches her fists, anguish rising in her chest. What if Dean gets hurt again? What if he gets hurt more? Who’d help him?

Asking to be a hunter in training is only an excuse.

“I don’t want you to get hurt again,” she whispers.

Dean stills on the threshold. He turns around, his expression carefully blank, and studies her face. Emma shrinks on herself.

“I know you said it wasn’t bad, but...”

She doesn’t know how to finish this sentence without giving the impression that she’s calling him a liar. She’d like to swallow back everything she said today. Starting this day over seems great, even if it wouldn’t soothe the fear tearing her from inside.

“I forgot how it is to be in your place. It’s been so long...”

It doesn’t sound like a criticism or an accusation. Emma perks up.

Dean looks away, visibly torn.

“You can come with me, but you listen to me, alright?”

“Of course!”

“And if I tell you to run, you run. Capisce?”

Emma isn’t sure she can promise that.

“Emma?”

“What if you get hurt?”

“I’m used to it.”

Emma frowns. Dean sighs.

“Listen, I don’t want you to be hurt. Okay?”

The idea Dean is looking out for her warms her. She nods. If he’s too worried for her, it might distract him. Emma wants to help him, not to endanger him. He won’t be harmed because of her.

Dean runs quickly the case to her. Four bodies have been found in two days, drained of their blood. He suspects vampires.

“Can’t it be djinns?”

“I don’t think so. There are too many victims. Djinns don’t need to hunt as much as vampires.”

Emma nods.

“I’ll have to wear a suit. This part is the most boring... But I’ve got to pretend to be a Fed, to use the informations of the cops.” Dean sighs. “When I was twenty, I used to pretend to be a wannabe reporter. It was funnier.”

“Do I have to wear a suit too?”

“Nah.”

Emma can’t tell if she’s relieved or disappointed.

They first stop in a police station.

On the way, Emma asked Dean if it wasn’t too risky because of the Leviathan and he answered he can’t let them prevent him to save people. It’s a risk he has to take.

Dean asks for the investigating officer, flashing out a badge, and is directed toward a cop who raises an eyebrow at Emma.

“It’s bring your kid at the office day,” Dean pretends before asking about the case.

Emma’s heart leaps. He’s telling to this stranger they’re father and daughter.

The cop answers to Dean’s questions begrugingly. The victims are still four, young people who were in the street after the dark. He glances worriedly at Emma when he goes into details. She wrinkles her forehead in confusion. As soon as he walks away, she questions Dean about the cop’s behavior.

“You’re a kid. Most people don’t want kids to hear that kind of things.”

Emma knows Dean is one of those people.

“I’ve got to check the bodies.”

When Emma starts to follow him, Dean stops her.

“I really don’t want you to see that, okay?” he says so gently it doesn’t feel like a rejection.

So Emma waits.

Hunting is actually a research work, even on the field. Emma was expecting more battles. She’s quite relieved to see her dad spends much of his time outside talking to people and gathering clues.

It doesn’t mean he’s safe, she knows, but it’s better than what she pictured.

She watches and listens everything carefully. Dean talks to people being professional, people being defiant or angry, people feeling a sadness she never experienced and she selfishly hopes she’ll never have to experience. The rest of the world keeps turning, people unaware of the tragedies tearing others apart. Emma understands her dad a little more. He wants those people to keep living like this, without knowing what kind of dangers lurk around them. He doesn’t want them to become like those victims, or the family of the victims, or like him.

It’s a noble cause.

Night is falling as they leave the building where they talked to the youngest victim’s best friend. Emma’s mind is swirling with things she learned about mankind today.

She has never met that many people during her whole life.

“I’m driving you back to the motel.”

“We’re done?” she asks, surprised.

“You are done. I got vampires to kill.”

Emma side-eyes Dean. She won’t be able to make him change his mind.

Another time, maybe. They’re progressing, step by step, as Dean told her once. Even though she has the unpleasant feeling she hasn’t helped him.

“Run to the car.”

Emma tenses. Remembering her promise, she breaks into a sprint. She hears gunshots bursting behind her and forces herself to not look back.

One. Two. Three.

She reaches the car and swirls around, keeping it behind her. Dean isn’t far. He opens the trunk, grabs a blade and retraces his footsteps. There’s a body on the ground, where Emma started her flight.

She heard three gunshots.

She scans their surroundings, her eyesight sharpening. Movements in the shadows catch her attention. Two—no three!—outlines.

The body raises but Dean gives it no time to do more: he cuts its head with a swift motion. Something jumps from behind a car and Emma has no time to warn her dad that he already got rid of it. There’s coldness in the way he moves and watches around him. Dean is more than a warrior: he’s a weapon. Emma understands why the leader told her he was going to be a challenge and the Amazons didn’t wait for her. She’d never have been able to win against him.

The other three close around Dean, not repeating the mistake of attacking him one by one. Dean studies them, holding his blade tighter. Emma trusts him, but she cannot do nothing. She has to help.

Without endangering herself.

She heads for them with determination. One of the vampires glances at her and curls his mouth in amusement. Emma doesn’t allow the insult to stifle her thoughts. She stops, staring into the vampire’s eyes, and drops the knife in her hand. The vampire startles, his judgement of her changing. The attention turns on her, the time to decide if she’s or not a threat. Dean stares at her hand, his face pale, paler than she has ever seen it. It hardly lasts one second. He comes back to his senses, his blade makes swift motions and a first head falls.

Three bodies thud on the ground.

Emma exhales. All her training was useless. Her very nature is useless. She had a weapon in her hand, enemies in front of her, and yet she didn’t kill them. She didn’t even harm them.

Dean moves from one body to the next, checking the vampires are all dead.

“It’s over,” he says.

It is, Emma thinks.

The Amazon life is forever closed to her. She feels lighter, as if a weight left her shoulders. Hunting is different. She can help Dean without hurting anyone. She just proved it, didn’t she? She distracted his enemies enough to allow him to defeat them.

Maybe... Maybe that can be her purpose.

She’s almost smiling as Dean walks back to her but his face is so grim her sense of accomplishment vanishes. They walk back to the car, the silence between them sharp and too heavy.

“Did I make a mistake?”

Dean blinks and focuses on her. “You– Is that how you hide your knife, when... you know?”

Emma nods, her heart sinking. Is the blade reminding him she tried to kill him?

Dean looks away, drums on the car’s door.

“I– A friend– My best friend– He used to do that to.”

Emma blinks. So... it didn’t remind him that moment, but a person he cares about? A friend is important, Emma knows, despite Amazons having none of them. A best friend... it’s greater still.

Emma doesn’t know how to feel about it. On one hand, it’s good for her. On another, why he’s so sad talking about someone he obviously cares about?

You lose everyone.

Dean walks around the car and opens the trunk. He drops the blade carelessly, rummages among the weapons and picks up a silvery sword.

“That’s what he used. It’s an angel blade.”

Dean hands the angel blade to her. Emma takes it and feels its weight. It’s well balanced. She gives it back to Dean.

“An angel?” she echoes.

Is it because of this friend that the entry about angels was so different from the others?

“That’s what he– he was. Most angels are massive dicks. They have many powers, so they think everything else is lower than them,” Dean explains, fiddling with the blade. It’s kinda what he wrote in the guide. “But Cas– He made the good calls, he decided to protect people. He saved me more times than I can count. He strayed, and made mistakes, but he was always trying to do the good thing, and it’s more than most people do.”

“What happened to him?” Emma whispers.

Dean bites down his lip. “His mistake turned against himself. He... needed more power, so he used souls from Purgatory, but there were older things... the Leviathan. They escaped and... in doing so... they...”

Dean coughs. He gazes away.

Emma has always known about life and death. It’s an important part of the Amazon culture and just today she witnessed how death affects humans. But she has no idea of how she can help Dean.

“You know, he used to be in some kind of cult, too, with the angels. He didn’t know much about this world, but he wanted to learn. He did.” Dean sighs sadly. “There are so many other things he could have learned.”

Dean puts the angel blade in the trunk and closes it. He walks around the car. The moment slipped through Emma’s fingers. She feels like she should have done more.

She wanted to do more.

She advances to follow Dean but something grabs her shoulders. Fingers ding into her flesh.

“Dad!”

Dean swirls around. He stills, horror widening his eyes.

“Don’t.”

“Come on, hunter,” purrs a female voice against Emma’s ear. “Don’t you think it’s fair enough, after what you did to my nest?”

The vampire forces Emma’s head sideway, exposing her neck...

But the bites never happens.

The vampire suddenly lets go of her. Emma doesn’t question her chance. She seizes her opportunity and runs to Dean’s side. She turns around only then.

The vampire swirls around, baring her teeth at a flickering old man. Emma can make out a cap, a flannel and jeans whenever he appears.

“Mind your own business!” snarls the vampire.

“That’s what I’m doing.”

The flickering man lunges at the vampire who avoids him. She takes several steps back, looking between him and them. She snarls, turns around and runs. The man chases her. Dean rushes to the trunk, retrieves the sword and runs after them. The man appears in front of the vampire and holds her back. Dean beheads her in one strike. Her head rolls on the ground. Her body collapses one moment later. But Emma doesn’t relax. She keeps her eyes on the newcomer, who is watching Dean. She shifts her wrist, making sure her own blade is still here.

Dean nods at the stranger and walks back to Emma. He brushes his arm. “You fine?”

Emma nods, unable to take her eyes away from the man. He flickers closer to the vampire’s corpse and stares at it gloomily.

A ghost. He’s a ghost, she thinks, remembering Dean’s guide.

Against ghosts... you have to use salt or iron, and burns down their remains or whatever object is tethering them to Earth. She doesn’t have any on her, but the trunk isn’t far and it’s filled with both.

Maybe she can’t harm something, but she can make a run for the iron stick and hands it to her dad.

Dean turns around and his reaction surprises her. A smile dawns on his face, similar to the one he had around Casey.

Kinda similar to the one he has around her.

“So, I was right. You stayed.”

The ghost raises his eyes from the vampire. He keeps flickering.

“And I was right to. How can you fail something as easy as vampires?”

“I got distracted.”

“Distracted,” huffs the ghost. “That’s one way of putting it.”

He focuses on Emma. A chill goes through her. She shuffles closer to Dean.

Maybe Dean looks at that ghost with affection, like with Casey...

...but that ghost doesn’t seem to share Casey’s curiosity about Emma. If she had to bet, she’d say what she’s seeing in his eyes, right now, it’s hostility.

“Care to explain what you’re doing?”

Chapter Text

The ghost glares between Emma and her dad. Dean doesn’t seem bothered, or the slightest worried. Is it because they used to know each other and they care about each other, or because Dean is an experimented hunter and it takes more than a ghost to unsettle him?

According to the Guide, hunters run into ghosts often, though it’s the first time Emma meets one. She guesses it’s logical. They are nothing but human. They turn like this because they die, not because of some outside force. Refusing to die is their choice and Emma understands. She refused that fate too, despite it being a honor for the Amazons.

(Can Amazons become ghosts?)

“Boy?” the ghost insists.

Dean gestures around them, something annoyed in the way he moves.

“You saw what happened. We were on a vampire hunt and your just saved our asses. Good job for a young ghost. It’s not that simple. Patrick Swayze would be proud.”

Emma frowns, not understanding what this actor has to do with anything.

The ghost glares at Dean and Emma is relieved to not have his attention on her anymore. He doesn’t seem to find the situation as light as Dean.

Dean produces his flask and gives it a shake.

“You turned down your reaper? I hope it wasn’t Tessa. She was pissed at me for...” His smile fades. “Ya know.”

“I’m not here to small talk, son.”

Emma startles. Son. Does that mean...?

She wants to ask but the ghost keeps talking, bristling, looking angrier with every passing second. She studies his features and, if he doesn’t look like John Winchester, he’s the spitting image of the old man on the group picture, the one Dean couldn’t talk about. So Emma doesn’t know his name, or who he is for Dean.

Why he called him son if he’s not his father?

Maybe humans do like Amazons and are all parents and children... No. It doesn’t fit what she learnt about them. Humans have smaller family units, not any human will claim a relationship to any other human.

“It was only a vampire and you could have died.”

“Emma could have died.”

“Don’t play dumb with me. That vampire was going to shake her a bit and offer you to exchange your place with hers.”

Emma startles out of her thoughts. What?

“What you’d have done because you’re that kind of idjit.”

“We’re lucky you were here to save us, then.”

The ghost glowers. Dean brought them back to the starting point of their conversation. It has to be frustrating.

Emma glances at her dad. She’s missing too many elements to understands what is happening. She needs the answer to one question.

“Is that your dad?”

The man isn’t John Winchester but he looks old enough and he calls Dean son. And he’s so angry. Only someone who believes you owe them would talk to you like that.

Though Emma’s mom never talked to her that way.

Dean never did either.

“Bobby is like a father to me, but he’s not my father,” Dean explains. “He’s an old family friend.”

Emma nods. Now she can act as a mere witness and not bother them again while they settle... whatever they have to settle. It looks like Bobby has many things to say and dislikes being interrupted.

Dean smiles, some tension leaving his shoulders. He looks between the both of them.

“That’s Bobby Singer. Bobby, this is–”

“A monster.”

Emma isn’t surprised by the word. She saw his look. She remembers the leader’s and Dean’s warnings about some hunters. But Dean... Dean didn’t expect it. His eyes round in shock and his shoulders hunch. Emma reaches to him to put a hand on his arm, as he did for her, but she stops, hesitating.

She drops her hand.

“I’m trapped with the flask, even when you couldn’t see me,” Bobby continues. “I heard everything.”

The flask...

Emma thinks back about the first days she spends by her dad’s side and a pit of shame opens in her belly. If Bobby saw that... If he was here when she stood next to Dean, her blade in her hand, willing herself to strike... No wonder he’s looking at her that way and he’s calling her a monster. She is.

Her heart pounds in her ears. She’d run as far as she could weren’t she rooted into place.

“Everything?” Dean echoes and his tone is weird enough to catch Emma’s attention. There’s something ashamed and horrified in his expression. “When I was with Lydia...?”

He glances at her and somehow manages to look more embarrassed.

“Not everything,” corrects Bobby, grumbling. Dean’s shoulders collapse in relief. ”But most of it. Enough to know what she is,” he adds, jerking his chin at Emma.

“She’s my daughter,” Dean retorts fiercely, every hint of shame gone, stepping in front of her to protect her.

Emma startles. She is Dean’s daughter, and they both know it, but she didn’t expect him to be so defensive of her, in front of someone he cares about, someone from his family.

This moment, like when she learnt about the Campbells, feels important, as if she gained a piece of herself she didn’t know was missing.

“Dean...”

“Watch what you say.”

“It’s in their nature. You should have learnt your lesson Cas.”

Dean flinches, as if the words are striking them physically.

“So funny, from a ghost.”

“Listen, son–”

“No, you listen.”

“That’s exactly how you reacted about–”

“Don’t talk about Cas! It has nothing to do with him!”

“Why are you so defensive then?”

“Why did you stay?”

“I’m worried for you, boy.”

“So you thought the good thing to do was to stay and force me to exorcize you?”

“You won’t have to.”

“A monster is a monster Bobby,” Dean says in a cold voice. Bobby looks like he wants to protest. Dean hurries to add, “That’s what you said to make me hunt my daughter who never harmed anyone.”

“It’s only a matter of time. You can’t do it yourself, of course, but you should ask someone to–”

“You know where I heard something like this? From John. You’re saying the same thing he’d say if he was still around.”

Bobby recoils as if Dean hit him. Emma understands it’s an insult, and that Dean aimed it like this.

“I’m... looking out for you,” Bobby says, looking less sure.

The John Winchester comment hurt him deeply, more than Dean calling him a monster, more than Dean saying he’ll have to hunt him down. Emma thinks she doesn’t want to learn more about her grandfather. If a hunter thinks he’s worse than a monster...

“You get blinded. If you listened, we could have stopped Cas.”

“It wouldn’t have changed a thing,” Dean retorts. “Actually, if I listened, I’d have killed Casey. You know how many times she saved and helped me?”

Bobby doesn’t look convinced, but he doesn’t want to protest either.

“Dean...”

“You really think I should kill a one-month kid who didn’t harm anyone? That’s your vision of hunting? You’re sounding like a fanatic.”

“I guess you could lock her up.”

Emma’s stomach sinks. She tries to distance herself from the conversation but she’s right here and being locked up somewhere would never have crossed her mind. She used to think about getting killed, come to worse. She’d never have thought things could get worse than this.

“What you don’t understand when I tell you she didn’t kill anyone?”

“She tried to kill you,” Bobby reminds Dean.

Emma lowers her head in shame, not wanting to see her dad’s reaction. Most of the time, it’s like he forgot about it and Emma doesn’t want him to remember. They almost act like those parents and children she sees on TV, having a real life, where he isn’t a hunter and she isn’t an Amazon who was sent to kill him and they could belong together like any parent with their children.

Except it isn’t. It’s only an illusion.

She’s too dangerous according to hunters, not enough according to Amazons. She doesn’t belong anywhere.

Maybe there’s mercy in killing the runts. At least, that way, they stop being a disappointment. They stop suffering.

“She didn’t.”

Emma’s thoughts come to a stop. She chances a glance at Dean, who doesn’t look at her, still standing between her and Bobby. Did he really forget? Is it the reason why he keeps her around and treats her like a kid?

For a reason she can’t fathom, she doesn’t like the idea.

“She aimed a knife at you.”

“That’s rich coming from you. You actually tried to stab me.”

“I thought you were a demon–”

“You used a knife against me and the only reason I didn’t die is because I avoided it. Emma didn’t try.”

Bobby scoffs. “I saw her try. I warned you.”

A pit of shame almost swallows Emma whole. That’s what happened that day... Bobby was the one Dean talked to, in their empty room.

After she pointed a blade at him.

Maybe... Maybe he really doesn’t mind...

“She didn’t try,” Dean repeats. “She was wondering if she could do it.”

Emma quirks her head up, surprised Dean trust her enough to believe her version when he has no reason to.

“And I pointed a gun at her. We’re even.”

“We are?” Emma can’t help but ask.

Dean nods. Emma fiddles with her sleeves. She feels the blade nestled against her right wrist, ready to be used, and, for the first time, there’s no stab of guilt hitting her because of the comfort it’s bringing to her. Dean remembers what she did and he doesn’t mind. He still sees her as a child—his child. He believes her.

He says they’re even.

Emma draws her attention back on Bobby. If Dean doesn’t resent her, she has—almost—no reason to blame herself. She isn’t angry at the accusation, though. It’s fair. And Bobby only tells it because he cares for Dean and worries over him. Her mom would never have loved her enough to go against the Amazon way of life but this man, who isn’t Dean’s father, cares about him enough to break some hunter rules. She can’t resent him for this.

“Didn’t you get the lesson last time?!”

“Don’t.”

“I don’t want you to get hurt again.”

“Then stop talking.”

“Dean–”

“I swear if you keep going, I’m using the rock-salt gun on you.”

“You’d dare?”

“Come on. It doesn’t hurt that much, especially as a ghost. I experienced it first hand.”

Emma’s eyes round. Rock-salt gun? As a ghost? It’s one thing to die and come back to life, it’s another to have been a ghost. Well, that’s what she thinks. How something like this could have happened?

“What are you going to do?” Bobby forces himself to ask more calmly. Emma sees how he’s struggling with it, but he’s trying. “She isn’t human. She’ll never be one. You can’t let her walk freely in their live. It’s the opposite of our job.”

“Our job is to make sure innocent people can get out.”

“So what are you going about her?”

Emma pricks her ear. She’d like to hear more about the future Dean envisions for her.

But Dean doesn’t answer. He only shifts uneasily.

Bobby flickers more. An expression of intense concentration paints on his face.

“I can become a hunter,” Emma offers.

“You won’t,” they retort in unison.

It seems they can agree on something about her.

“Listen, Dean. You’ve got to do your job–”

“What if you stop playing dumb, Bobby? You went all Ghost because you were worried for Emma.”

Emma frowns in confusion. Bobby grumbles.

“You’ve got to move on,” Dean talks more gently. “I’m grateful, but you can’t stay. You know what happens to ghosts.”

“They aren’t hunters. They don’t know what to expect.”

“Exactly. They don’t know. You know better. You don’t have that excuse.”

Bobby scoffs. “There’s a job to do.”

“And I’m working on it. You shouldn’t be here. You should be in Heaven, drinking beers at the Harvelle’s.”

“The job isn’t done. Why death should be more comfortable than life?”

“Because it’ll turn wrong.”

Bobby shakes his head. “I didn’t save you to be lectured.”

A shadow of amusement appears on Dean’s face. “No. You did to lecture me. Not so fun the other way around, huh?”

Bobby glowers. He looks Emma. She doesn’t back away this time. He’s angry at her and thinks of her as a threat, sure, but he did protect her too. His actions don’t echo his words. It’s the opposite of the leader, who promised great things only to hurt her and let her down in the end. She likes this better, even if it’s confusing when you don’t expect it.

She likes Dean’s attitude the best, with his words and actions matching most of the time.

“You’re doing a mistake.”

“It’s really the last words you want to tell me?”

Bobby eyes Dean in surprise. “The last?”

“I’ll have to exorcize you,” Dean answers not without kindness.

A note in his voice pushes Emma to stare at him. Pain and sadness are written across his features.

“You won’t.”

“It’s the job, Bobby, like you said,” he adds, resignation sounding in his voice.

“It’s different.”

“It’s not.”

There’s a pause. Bobby looks deeply annoyed, almost angry. Suddenly, he disappears.

Emma blinks, expecting him to reappear.

He doesn’t.

Emma looks around them to catch a glimpse of him. Bobby certainly reappeared somewhere else, as he did to slow the vampire down.

He didn’t.

“I give you time to get used to the idea, but I will,” Dean whispers. He exhales slowly before turning around to face her. “I’m sorry.”

Why he’s apologizing? He protected her, like he always does. Emma should be the one apologizing to have been such a weak link.

“Bobby isn’t usually like that.”

“He’s worried for you.”

And he’s right to. Emma did try to kill and is an Amazon. All her ancestors killed their fathers.

Not all of them, she thinks, thinking about Dean and Mary and Moishe Campbell.

“What I don’t understand is why he saved me.”

“You’re my daughter. He can say anything he wants that’s the most important.”

Really?

“We’ve got to get out of Dodge. We lingered too long.” Dean makes a puzzled face. “It’s weird no one’s here yet.”

Emma nods. As they walk to the car, she says, “Cas was a monster too.”

Dean whirls around. Emma almost steps back. It’s the first time he looks angry at her.

“You aren’t a monster! You didn’t kill anyone.” Dean’s anger vanishes as quickly as it fired. “As for Cas... it’s complicated.”

I’d like to hear more about him, and Sam, and Bobby.

Now is not the time, but maybe Dean will tell her more about them, one day, like he did for Mary, like he started doing for Cas.

But there’s a question she has to ask.

She slides on her seat. Dean settles behind the wheel and slams the door shut behind him.

“Dean?”

His hands tighten on the wheel and something crosses his expression, too quickly for Emma to read it. She’s almost sure there’s sadness in it though. It almost makes her draw back, but she has to ask now, to find a way to help him if it comes to it.

“You’ll really have to exorcize Bobby?”

Dean swallows. He diverts his eyes.

“It’s the job.”

Killing me wouldn’t have been the job? she doesn’t ask.

“He said he wants to help you.”

“Staying here turns the ghosts crazy. Bobby is still himself, now, but it won’t last. He’ll end up hurting people.”

“Maybe he can be an exception?”

Dean shakes his head slowly. He looks so sad, so resigned, Emma keeps her other questions for herself.

He starts the car and they sail in the night.

Chapter Text

Dean stops driving way past dawn.

Emma is jolted awake when the car parks. She blinks against the bright sky, guilty for having fallen asleep. She glances at her dad. It looks like there’s a new weight on his shoulders.

How can I help?

Emma wants to, but has no idea how. Her wanting to help is what caused Dean more problems to begin with. Her hands curl into fists and she winces as the memories of the previous day come back to her mind. Her dad could have been killed because of her. Would have been, Bobby hadn’t been here.

Dean sighs.

“I’m sorry.”

He blinks in surprise and turns toward her.

“For yesterday.”

“Wha– No, Emma. I’m the one who should be apologizing here. I’ve not been careful enough. None of this is your fault.”

“I can fight,” she says, more for herself than for Dean.

“You don’t have to.”

Emma is relieved... until she realizes what her relief means. A wave of shame crashes over her.

“You just have to know how to defend yourself. I’ll teach you a couple of things.”

Emma is starting to smile when she catches Dean’s expression. He’s defeated, as if he just heard the worst news ever. Her smile drops and a stone lands in her stomach. Teaching her things is that horrible?

“I’m sorry,” Dean says. “I promised you you’d get a better life, and here we are.”

“My life is better.”

Dean smiles sadly. Emma doesn’t like to see him like this. She hasn’t missed those false smiles. She got used quickly of seeing him geniune, almost happy. Never completely happy, but way closer than this.

Dean drums on the wheel. He shrugs and steps out of the car. Emma notices they’re on the parking of a motel. She joins her dad outside but he’s already walking toward the motel to book a room. To say it was going so well...

She frowns. Maybe that’s the crux of the problem.

Dean steps out of the motel and walks to the car. He picks up bags from the trunk, far in his thoughts. Emma stands by his side and takes her baggages. They settle in the motel room, still silent. Dean produces the flask and brings it up. Emma stares at the motion, surprised by the gentleness of it. She saw Dean yield weapons, fight and kill, yet he’s more gentle than any other people she watched.

Dean notices her watching and winces.

“I can put the flask in the car if you want.”

“Why?”

“I don’t want you to... not feel safe.”

Emma still doesn’t understand.

“Bobby threatened you.”

Emma shrugs. “But he didn’t hurt me. He saved me.”

Dean looks relieved. He puts back the flask in his jacket. Emma’s curiosity burns the tip of her tongue, but she feels her dad is still shaken up by what happened with Bobby and the vampires.

“Why did you talk about Patrick Swayze yesterday?” she asks, hoping to improve his mood.

He likes talking about this actor almost as much as he likes Lost Boys.

“Because of the movie Ghost... You didn’t see it yet?”

Emma shakes her head. Dean smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes anymore, like those first days they spend together.

“We know what we’re gonna watch today then!”

Good acting, but he lacks his usual enthusiasm.

Emma forces her mind to stay awake despite her closed eyes. She’s listening to Dean’s breathing, waiting for him to get asleep. It takes always more time for him than it does for her.

The task is easier than she expected. Anticipation makes her heart pound fast. She almost hears nothing above her heartbeat.

Dean’s breathing gets even. At last.

Emma waits what feels like an eternity to be sure—though she only counted to one hundred—then she slips out of her bed. Her feet meet the ground in silence and she heads for Dean’s chair. That’s where he hangs his jacket. Something uneasy spreads in her belly but she shoves the feeling away and pats the jacket, until she finds the flask. She picks it out and glances toward Dean’s bed. He didn’t stir. She swallows past the lump in her throat and walks to the door.

She steps outside, pulling the door as silently she can behind her. There’s so much energy coursing through her veins she could run ten times around the motel without tiring.

Emma puts the flask as carefully as she can on the windowsill. Her movements aren’t half as gentle as Dean’s are, but it’s the best she can do.

She takes a respectful step back and stares at the flask. She expects to feel something, like the flask staring back at her. It doesn’t.

She doesn’t know much about those ghost things.

She clears her throat and the sound is so loud in the silence of the night it startles her.

“Bobby?” she whispers.

She looks around but the ghost doesn’t appear. Emma worries at her lips, wondering if it’s some clue about his opinion of her or only because making himself seen is difficult.

She draws back her attention on the flask. Talking to an object is weird, but it’s less weird than whistling in the wind.

“We’ve got a bad start. I get why. I– I really tried to... and you saw. I mean... I’d be mad at myself too but Dean understands and forgives me.”

She winces. It looks like some disguised reproach. She isn’t blaming anything on Bobby.

“What I mean is that I won’t try to hurt Dean again. He,” she lowers her voice, “he’s my dad, you know? I don’t want to hurt him.” She twists her hands together, feeling both freed and embarrassed by her confession. She doesn’t want to hurt her dad. “My mom would be ashamed of me. She asked me to make them proud but I didn’t. I don’t.” Emma shakes her head. She isn’t here to talk about herself. She is, kinda, but not like this. “You’re about Dean a little like Dean is about me, and I’m glad he’s got that. And I’ll prove you you can trust me. About Dean. I’m not really good at this whole hunting thing.”

Emma looks around her again. Still nothing. She allows a soft sigh to escape her lips.

“So. That’s what I wanted to tell you. I understand, but I’ll prove Dean was right to give me a chance. I owe him my life. A real life.”

Emma waits a little more, but there’s no answer.

She hopes Bobby heard her and understood.

She grabs the flask, enters in the motel room and puts it back to its rightful place. She slips in her bed, unable to fall asleep before long, listening, waiting for a reaction.

Sleep catches her before she can notice anything.

The following days, Dean teaches her basic movements of self-defence. Emma learns how to get rid of a bigger opponent or to turn the tide of a fight.

Dean looks more comfortable with the idea after saying every girl should learn so.

Overpowering an opponent is easy for Emma. She notices she’s stronger than Dean. Not by much, the first day, but the difference gets more obvious with every passing day.

Her Amazon nature is never far away. If only she had a little more of it, then she’d be able to help Dean more for his hunts.

(But if her Amazon side was stronger, maybe she’d have...)

She can’t bear to finish that thought.

Emma is also on the lookout for the slightest hint of Bobby’s presence. He doesn’t manifest himself in any way.

After a week, Dean declares he taught her everything he knows. Emma’s face scrunches in puzzlement. It can’t be right.

“You’re hunting for so long. You really don’t know more?”

“I don’t. Hunting is mostly about adapting. And research. Tons of research.”

Emma nods. It’s carefree in a way Amazons wouldn’t afford. They believe in training—and rituals and duty and Harmonia and so many other things.

She looks at her hands.

“Something wrong?”

“They never taught me any of this. The Amazons. They knew how to fight, knew what you are, and they sent me anyway. Untrained.” Her throat tightens. It shouldn’t hurt as much anymore, but it does. Emma doesn’t understand it. She came in terms with it—or so she thought. “Despite their promises, I was only here to divert your attention. They said they care and would be here, but I was only a bait.”

Dean blanches and Emma almost regrets her words. But they’d have felt so heavy on her chest...

“I’ll never ask you to be a bait.”

“I know.”

It’s obvious.

Dean nods curtly.

They resume their usual routine, except that, when Dean leaves to buy their breakfast, sometimes, Emma talks.

She hasn’t expected to catch on this very human trait of talking alone, but she comforts herself by thinking she’s talking to Bobby, wherever he might be. Sure, he still doesn’t appear, but he’s here. Emma notices the books moving several times. She checked them, but they didn’t give replies to her words. They’re only a proof Bobby is still here, and listening.

She thinks he’s warming to her. Maybe. A little.

What gets the biggest reaction so far is asking if the car Baby was haunted too. It felt possible. Dean cares about it as much as he cares about the flask.

Bobby slams a book shut. Emma translates it as a annoyed—and shouted—no.

“Dean says she’s a she!”

It’s not her fault if her dad is weird.

Sheets of paper fly from the table and scatter in the room. Emma hurries to gather them.

“That’s not really nice,” she comments, piling them back next to Dean’s laptop.

She falls silent when she hears the door open. She feels self-conscious about babbling to Bobby. She doesn’t get how human children do to be so comfortable talking to imaginary people even when there are other people around.

Emma turns around and stills, noticing with a start how tired Dean is looking. He’s distant since the vampire hunt but right now, it’s like he’s drifting away. Emma doesn’t know how to help him like he helped her.

Guilt stabs her heart. She can’t even repay her debts.

“He isn’t fine,” she whispers in the silence. “Can’t you help him?”

She listens, but only the silence answers. She hugs her knees to her chest.

“I don’t know how to help him,” she confesses, her voice muffled. “I never know what to do. I feel... It’s like all I do is causing him more problems.”

Dean has so much work and her presence is adding a responsability he never asked for. She imposed. She could have left for a while, once she knew enough about this world to not be utterly lost. She didn’t. She clinged to him, hoping every day they could become a real family.

Even now, knowing it’d be for the best for her dad, she doesn’t find in herself to walk away. She wants to have a family. She wants Dean to be this family.

Tears pool in her eyes and she wipes them. If only she could call Casey. Emma doesn’t know her much, but Dean and she looked so at ease around each other. Maybe she could have helped him. Dean said only a couple of days ago that Casey helps him all the time.

But, despite her promise, Casey didn’t give Emma any way to reach her.

And Emma can’t do nothing alone.

She eyes her dad’s shape, sleeping soundly in the next bed. He’s so tired she doesn’t bother walking out anymore to talk. He’s just so... terribly tired.

And she’s so terribly helpless.

Something clatters on the ground, so loud Emma finds herself on her feet, next to the bed. From the corner of her eyes, she sees Dean sits up, a gun in his hand. He scans the room. Emma notices what made this sound first. Her shoulders collapse.

“It’s a book.” She gestures at the table. “It fell.”

Dean falls back on his bed with a groan.

“If Bobby did that,” he mutters.

“I’ll pick it up.”

Emma sprints toward the book before Dean can say anything. She grabs it. When she stands up, she notices a notebook, open on the table. Its page shows a list of handwritten phone numbers. Her grip tightens on the book. She looks around her, a question burning her lips. Is it the answer? Is there someone here than can help her dad?

She reads the list quickly and a name catches her eyes. Jody.

That’s it, she thinks.

“Thank you, Bobby,” she whispers as silently as she can.

Chapter Text

Emma takes a day to ponder about the best way to push Dean to visit Jody. None of her half-planned ideas feels right and she casts them aside almost as soon as they take shape in her mind.

She comes to a conclusion.

Better to be straightforward about it.

The next morning, as they gather their dishes after breakfast, she says, “I’d like to meet Jody.”

Her declaration is unexpected enough to draw a light surprise on Dean’s face. He’s less expressive since the vampire case, as if he holds his emotions tighter.

“Jody?”

Emma nods. She toys with her sleeves.

“You gave me her phone number. I’m curious about her.”

She bites her lip. It’s true enough, though it’s not the whole truth. Is it manipulation? If so, would her dad get mad if he ever learns about this?

Dean looks away. “Yeah. Good idea.”

His voice sounds flat. Like he doesn’t care either way.

Emma realizes with some annoyance she believed it’d be a quick fix, that she’d only have to utter Jody’s name for Dean to return to the person she learnt to know. It’s ridiculous. How could she have been so naive?

Dean produces his phone. “I’ll warn Jods of this.”

Emma perks up. “We’re going today?”

Dean shrugs. “There’s no point in postponing, is there?”

Emma frowns, finding the wording weird. Her hope it’d fix everything quickly was naive... but Dean’s reaction being the perfect opposite of what she expected is equally—if not more—weird. Out of character.

Dean walks away.

The drive to Sioux Falls, North Dakota, lasts six hours. They take a break on a rest area to eat a sandwich but the silence between them is heavy, impossible to defeat. As if there’s a wall all around Dean.

Emma realizes in hindsight he didn’t keep that much distance their first days together, not like he’s doing now. Which is both dreading and surprising. Shouldn’t he have been more wary of her when all he knew was her species and the traditions she had to follow? When she didn’t think she could have another destiny than her mom, the leader and Harmonia wanted her to follow?

What she could have done to have fallen out of grace? Dean trusted her and her motivations. He defended her to Bobby—who saved her from the vampires. Nothing changed since that day.

The car slows down and leaves the main road. Emma snaps her attention back on the moment. They drive under an arch, where the word Salvage stands out, on a grey ground. Cars and scrap heaps seem to be piled up everywhere.

“We’re there?”

“Not yet... It’s...”

A house comes into view. Its remains. It looks like it had been burned down.

Emma glances at her dad.

“It was Bobby’s,” he explains.

He drums on the wheel, looking lost. Emma hesitates then opens the door and steps out of the car. She walks some steps closer and stops, studying the house, trying to picture how it used to be.

A door opens and shuts. Dean stands by her side, his hands in his pockets.

“Sam and I used to come here, as kids. We’ve got some of our best memories here. Bobby treated me– us more like kids than soldiers. It was nice.”

Emma knows how that feels. She didn’t spend as much time as Dean as a soldier, but it has lasted her whole childhood too. And Dean is the one who gave her the chance to have an almost normal life, with her being a person instead of a tool.

“Children aren’t meant to be soldiers. We’d have been happier if we could have stayed here, despite knowing what we knew.”

It’s only a whisper. Emma isn’t sure if Dean’s talking to her and not trying to disturb the solemn calm around them, or if his thoughts are escaping him.

Emma allows the silence to settle for a bit.

“How it used to be like?”

Dean looks at the house but it’s like he’s seeing the past through it. He starts describing the different rooms: a kitchen, the couch where he used to take naps between hunts, a safe room warded against most supernatural beings.

“And tons of books. Bobby used to have the biggest hunting library.”

“Like in The Beauty and the Beast?”

Dean makes an amused sound. It’s far from a laugh, but it’s geniune.

Some of Emma’s uneasiness settles.

“Yeah. Dustier, but kinda like it.”

“You liked this place very much.”

Dean doesn’t answer right away. “Yeah. Like I said, Sammy and I used to spend time here when he was a child. I’ve got many memories about him here. And about Bobby, of course. And then Cas.” Dean’s sadness overcomes any other emotions he could have expressed. “We took the picture in the living room, right before the Apocalypse.”

Emma nearly asks which picture but she guesses in time. Dean has to be talking about the group photo. She’s still missing the names of the two blonde women who figure on it. She wonders if Jody is one of them.

Dean’s shoulders collaspe, as if a weight is trying to pin them down. He keeps staring at the house, his gaze heavy with grief.

“There’s only me left.”

Emma raises one hand and hovers it next to Dean’s arm. She brings it back to her and draws back her attention on the house’s remains, allowing him time and space as he struggles with his memories. She tries to picture how she’d feel if she ever finds her childhood home in such a state.

It’d be heartbreaking, and she doesn’t have that many memories of it.

“What happened?”

“Leviathan.”

It looks like everything comes back to this.

“It wasn’t long ago then.”

“This very year. They wanted to get at Bobby but they underestimate him.”

“Good. But it’s still sad.”

“It is.” Dean shakes his head and walks back to the car. “Bobby and Jody are the same kind of hunters.”

There’s a bang and he smirks like a mischevious kid before the expression slips away.

“They know about everything but they have a home. They don’t live on the roads. There’s danger,” he adds, looking back at the house. “But not more than there is on the roads. Maybe less, weirdly.”

Dean’s words fall heavily.

“I don’t know why... I guess it didn’t make sense to not stop here.”

Dean opens the door and sits in the car. So does Emma.

They drive away from Bobby’s home and farther in the city. After some turns, they reach another house. Emma studies it as Dean parks in front of it. The contrast with Bobby’s house is impressive, but it’s certainly normal when you see a house in good condition after watching ruins.

“It’s here,” Dean declares.

They step out of the car. They are climbing on the steps when the door opens on a woman with short-brown hair. Emma eyes her. Nothing screams hunter about her, except maybe the flannel—is it some kind of uniform? She’s only the second hunter Emma meets and she expected her status to be more obvious.

Hunters are kinda like Amazons that way. They blend in for other humans and their preys to not notice them.

“Hi, Jods.”

The woman steps closer to Dean and wraps her arms around him. He hugs her back, some tension bleeding out of his shoulders.

Jody only needed a couple of minutes to do so.

“Hello Dean. Good to see you again.”

“Same here.”

They break apart and smile to each other. This is good. This is why Emma wanted them to see each other. She wanted Dean to feel better.

She isn’t able to chase the ugly feeling from her chest though.

Jody looks at her.

“And so this is...?”

Dean glances at her before looking at Jody again.

“Emma, my daughter.”

Jody studies her as closely as Emma did earlier. She shifts self-consciously. Jody’s expression softens.

“I see that.”

Emma resists the urge to touch her own face. She doesn’t know what to feel about Jody’s reaction. She casts a glance to Dean but his back is revealing nothing to her. Is he annoyed Jody is implying they are looking alike? He keeps chosing to introduce her as his daughter, despite being able to use any excuse—calling her a sister, a niece, a cousin—but it’s different. Kinda. At least she thinks so.

Jody smiles and Emma doesn’t know how to react. She’s pretty sure she looks like a deer caught in the headlights. It’s a shame. She never felt as far from an Amazon as she does now—and she never truly felt like one.

Jody nods and steps away from the door, inviting them in. Dean follows her without hesitation. Emma hovers on the threshold for a bit, before steeling her resolve and stepping inside.

The first step is done. And now...

Now Emma doesn’t know. She hasn’t thought that far.

The living room is wide and you can see the kitchen from it. Emma sinks on one edge of the couch. Her dad sits on the other edge. She allows her eyes to skim over their surroundings. The place is surprisingly normal. She didn’t expect to spot weapons everywhere but...

Actually, yes. That’s exactly what she expected.

Jody sits in front of them and raises an eyebrow.

“What do I owe the pleasure?”

“Emma wanted to meet you.”

Emma blushes to be sent under the spotlight but Jody only smiles, not looking bothered by the fact it was her idea.

“Thanks. I rarely have news of that guy, here.”

“I’ve got to stay low.”

“You can call or text sometimes, to show you aren’t dead.”

“Maybe...”

Dean doesn’t sound convinced.

The following moments are rather pleasant. It’s weird to talk with someone who isn’t Dean for so long. Emma glances several times at her dad as the evening goes by but he’s drifting off again, only answering when spoken directly.

It deflates Emma’s pride. Her solution seemed to have worked, at first, but now...

At one point, Jody claps her hands and raises to her feet.

“It’s time for the dinner.”

Interest sparks in Dean’s eyes and the ghost of a smile paints on his face.

“You want help?”

Jody eyes Dean. She nods. “Sure.”

He stands as she’s already walking in the kitchen. As soon as Jody steps out of the living room, Emma hurries to ask her dad. “Are hunters more often women?”

“Huh?”

“I know you’re a man, and that Bobby and your father were too, but there are this Jody, your mom and your grandmother, and your famous female ancestor.”

“I...” A slow smile paints on his face. “Actually, I met more men than women hunters, but the latter are more skilled.” He glances at her, amused. “Don’t tell anyone I said that.”

Emma frowns. Who she’d tell? There’s Bobby, but since he’s always there, with them, there are chances that he heard it on his own.

Dean advances for a couple of steps and stops. He turns toward her.

“You’re getting along with Jody.”

“She seems to be nice and wise.”

“Good.”

Dean turns stiffly his back to her and steps in the kitchen. Emma is still seeing them from her sitting place and doesn’t hesitate to watch them. Dean is look more relaxed, like he usually is when he cooks.

“I guess you can’t help me, now,” Emma whispers.

Bobby doesn’t answer. Emma isn’t sure if that’s the answer—meaning she did everything she could and have to let things happen now—or that he doesn’t want to disturb Jody’s home.

They eat a tasty chicken with potatoes, drowned in sauce.

Dean declares between two bites there’s nothing better than home-made food and, for the shortest time, Emma has the impression she catches a glimpse of sadness in his eyes.

He engages more in the conversation, asking Jody about her job. She didn’t have many hunts, but she faced several human problems.

Time keeps ticking by. Shadows grow outside and Jody offers them to rest. She tells Emma where is her guest room.

Dean smiles and it’s a really good try—he does look happy and enthusiastic enough—but at the same time, the sadness lingering in his eyes looks sharper.

Emma is starting to fear she’ll never understand him.

“A real room. You’ll see how nice it is. Enjoy your sleep.”

Emma nods. She raises to her feet, bids them a good night and walks out of the living room. She heads for the room... or pretends to. She climbs the stairs, walks to the room, opens and closes the door. She retraces her steps silently. When people dismiss you to talk, it usually means you need to know what they’re talking about. It’s something she has known for a long time. She tried to learn more about the Amazons, the first night she spent away from her home.

She didn’t lie to Dean when she talked about the patrols and the shifts.

Emma. Always too slow. Always one step out of the line.

“I don’t know what to do.”

“About?”

Emma steals a glance at the room. Dean levels a stare at Jody and Emma steps back in the shadows. She can’t risk to be found out right away.

“You know what.”

“I do.”

Dean sighs.

“It was meant to be temporary, just the time she needs to get used to... all of this.”

Hurt stabs Emma’s heart. She knew it, though. Dean warned her when they faced each other that day. He never pretended Emma would be allowed to stay with him forever. He has been reluctant to keep her around, at first.

He has never wanted her.

Emma tries to not feel attacked. None of the Amazons have fathers who wants them. It’s in their nature. That’s certainly why it’s so easy for them to get rid of them.

But I didn’t kill you, she wants to protest. I couldn’t!

And part of her can’t help but believe it should matter.

(Since when not killing someone deserves a reward?)

“What I’m going to do?”

Emma closes her eyes. She can manage on her own. She knows the world better than she did then. She knows how people live and could adapt. It won’t be so difficult. No one would ever guess what she is. She can disappear and build her own life.

She should leave now, before causing more problems to Dean. He did more for her than he had to, than anyone did.

But he gave me his mom’s name. He showed me pictures of her, and told me about our family. He drew a journal for me. He defended me to Bobby.

I thought–

“What do you want to do?”

“It’s not important. It’s about what I should do, what’s best for her.”

What’s best for her.

Emma opens her eyes, the words echoing through her mind.

“You should ask her.”

“Jody.”

“It’s her life. She’s the one who should choose, don’t you think?”

There’s a too long pause. Only Emma’s heartbeat fills the silence.

“What if she wants to stay?”

“Then she’ll stay.”

Another pause.

“I’m going to ruin it.”

“How so?”

“Bobby’s dead. Cas too. And Jo and Ellen. And John. And so many others. The only reason Sam isn’t is because he left. If she stays with me, she’s going to die too.”

“It’s unfortunate.”

“Unfortunate?” Dean repeats, louder, his voice sharpening. “You know what they’ve got in common? Me. I’m bad luck.”

“Most of them were hunters.”

“And so?”

“It’s like soldiers. You can’t expect everyone to make it. It’s not your fault.”

“It is. I was here for most of them, or a phone call away, and I couldn’t do anything. If I were stronger, or smarter, or– or anything, I could have saved them. I didn’t. They’re dead because of me. What if– What if I fail Emma the same way? Things always go wrong and I– I won’t be able to protect her. I know. I failed everyone else and the same thing’ll happen to her. She’ll have a death sentence over her head as long as she’ll stay with me.”

“Dean, Bobby wouldn’t want you to feel like that. I’m sure he never thought it was your fault.”

“Doesn’t matter because it is.”

Emma leans against the wall, not knowing what to do. It’s like when Dean talked about his best friend. She hasn’t been able to do anything then, and she’s still regretting it...

...maybe there’s something she can do this time.

Emma listens carefully. Dean doesn’t want her to hear any of that or he wouldn’t have waited for he and Jody to be alone to talk, but she needs to, to understand him. Those are the missing pieces of the puzzle.

“What are you expecting from me?”

“I don’t know,” Dean sighs.

“Really? I think you’ve got an idea.”

Silence.

“Advices? A shoulder to cry on?”

Dean lets out a wry laugh. “I don’t know. I kinda expected you to tell me to stop whining after the first couple of sentences.”

“Doesn’t sound helpful.”

“Don’t know. That’s how it usually goes, and I’m still alive.”

Emma hears footsteps. Her first intinct is to run up the stairs and hide in her room. She’s spying and no one wants to be caught doing so. She forces herself into place and resists the urge to steal a glance in the room.

“I gave Emma your number. I thought you’d give her a place to stay if something happens to me. I... There aren’t many people I can’t trust with her.”

“But you’re fine.”

There’s another pause.

“We went on a hunt. She nearly got killed. It’s only luck she’s alive. Jods, I... I can’t protect her. She isn’t safe with me.”

“You’re too harsh on yourself.”

“She nearly got killed,” Dean growls.

“No parent can keep their child totally safe,” Jody whispers sadly. “Do you think what happened to Owen is my fault?”

“It’s not.”

“Then why it’d be yours?”

“I brought her to a hunt. I chose to endanger her.”

Emma is about to run into the room to shout out the truth: Dean didn’t bring her for a hunt, only for a case, and the vampires ambushed them, but hearing her name stops her in her tracks.

“What Emma wants?”

“She’s a kid.”

“So she doesn’t have a say in what you decide for her life?”

“Sometimes kids give their loyalty to someone who doesn’t deserve it. She has no one but me. How it can be a choice?”

Silence.

“How many people you lost this year?”

“Cas. Bobby.”

“And before that?”

“Too many. What’s your point?

“Do you think I’m whining when I talk about my son and my husband?”

“No!”

“Then why you would be?”

“It’s different.”

“It really isn’t.”

Dean doesn’t answer. Emma can feel stubborness in that silence. If only she could hear the emotions weightening every pause of the conversation.

“What do you want?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“You say so often.”

“It’s true.”

The footsteps echo again. A seat creaks.

“Let’s imagine Emma wants to stay with you. Really. You can’t doubt it a second. How it’d goes?”

“I’ll stop hunting.”

“You will?”

“It’s not a life for kids. She deserves better.”

Those words again. Amazons never said anything like this. Emma was a warrior among others. A soldier among other soldiers, quickly deposable and easily replaceable.

“And you’ll be happy with it?”

“What are you asking Jods?”

“You’d find a place outstide hunting?”

“Hunting isn’t a life. It’s not a choice. Leaving... it’s the dream.”

“Why didn’t you leave sooner?”

Dean’s answer is so low Emma has to prick up her ear to catch his next words.

“Because you can’t leave. Many never have the chance to try... and those who can... They didn’t manage it.”

“I thought your brother did.”

“He did,” Dean says carefully. “But there were prices to pay and I’d never allow anyone to pay that much for me.”

“Maybe you can manage it. There has to be a first time for everything.”

“That’s not how it works.”

“And who says so?”

“Everyone.”

A pause, again.

“Jody, I need you to promise me something.”

“If something happens to you, I’ll watch over Emma.”

There’s a silence.

“That wasn’t what you were going to ask?”

“Yes, but... If Emma is happy here, with you... you’d allow her to stay? I– I can’t watch her die.”

“Dean, it has to be her–”

It’s her last straw. Emma doesn’t wait to hear more. She runs in the room and throws her arms around Dean. She feels him startle but she doesn’t care. She clings onto him.

“Emma?”

She holds him tighter.

“I want to stay with you, Dad. Please. I like Jody but you’re my family.”

Dean stays frozen for a bit before closing his arms carefully around her.

“You don’t have to...”

“I know. I want to.” She loosens her grip and looks at his face. “Who’s going to teach me about good movies and musics? And food? Who’s going to talk books with me?”

It feels shallow, put like this, but it reminds Emma all the good moments they shared, learning to know each other and acting more and more as if they belonged together, as if they were a family.

Dean smiles softly. “I’ve got the best taste about musics and movies.”

Emma wouldn’t go that far.

“And... I like to hear about your mom. And Bobby and Sam. And all the others. I’d like to see Casey again.” She adds in a whisper, “No one else can tell me about my family.”

She realizes when she utters those words how much all those people, even those she’ll never be able to meet, matter to her. They are her family, as well as her mom, and more than the unfathomable entity of the Amazons.

“I won’t send you away if you want to stay.”

“It looks like everything worked out,” Jody comments a smile in her voice.

Dean quirks a half-smile.

“Yeah.”

Emma nods.

She understands why Dean and Bobby are counting on Jody. Dean talked to her like he’d never have dared to talk to Emma, and Jody didn’t act as if she was a clueless child. She allowed them to talk and understand each other better.

Bobby’s idea has been great.

Chapter Text

As they’re on the threshold, ready to leave, Jody lays a hand on Dean and tells him he’s a good parent. Dean ducks his head in embarrassment.

Jody steps back, smiling. “Don’t be strangers.”

“We won’t.”

Emma offers her a smile.

“Thank you. For everything”

Emma and Dean climb into the car. Emma waves and Jody waves back.

The car turns around. It quickly leaves the town and rolls on a highway.

“We take care of the Leviathan,” Dean declares confidently.

Emma nods with determination, though she doubts Dean would allow her to take part in the real battle.

“And then... we try what no hunter ever succeeded. We walk out and have a normal life.”

“I like this plan.”

Emma exchanges a smile with her dad. She leans forward and starts the car radio. The first notes of Ramble On fills the car.

Her dad’s taste in music is flawless.

Zeppelin rules.