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hahahahahangst · 2 years

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S(a)mbody that I used to know (Be The Young 17)

GIANT TW which will be valid for each episode for suicidal thoughts, self-h*rm, violence, cursing, relatives dying, mentions of s*x, s*xual assault

All chapter titles are song titles, some of them translated from Italian songs. We start from the first season and make out way through the series. I will break canon (mostly from the S2 finale) but will try to get back into it for the sake of ✨ lore ✨ .

Summary: Emily's life used to be normal. Until one day, her family died, leaving behind just one letter.

"After reading this whole letter, call John Winchester. [...] He’s your real father."

MASTERLIST

A/N: I am not 100% about this one... But I say “fuck we ball it”. Also no I cannot leave Emily alone for 10 whole seconds. Deal with it hehe

S(a)mbody that I used to know

You can get addicted to a certain kind of sadness Like resignation to the end Always the end

They didn’t talk about Emily’s powers much after that. Dean was clearly scared of them, especially about how she opened the door without touching them, and kept denying any usability of them. “I can’t help it.” He said. “They make me shiver.”

Emily and Sam kept going along well, not a cloud crossing their sky, although Sam didn’t take very well Ava’s death. In one of the first cases they worked after Ava, Emily found him drunk in their room, rambling about how he couldn’t save one of the victims and couldn’t save Ava. He also had a couple of observations on her and Dean which were, as Dean had put it, interesting.

“If you just sat down and talked about it, you’d find out you actually like each other! Do it, do it now. I’ll close my eyes so I don’t hear you.” He had said, alcohol clouding any little clarity Sam had ever had. With a giggle, Dean and Emily had helped Sam to bed.

“Don’t even think about it.” She said to Dean, leaving the room.

Then, one day, she was awakened by Dean’s nervous voice calling her name.

“Emily, wake up!” He shook her one last time as she opened her eyes. She saw her back as he frantically filled his bag. “Hey! We have to go, come on.”

“What’s happening?” She sat up and noticed that the other half of the bed she was sleeping in, where Sam was supposed to be, was empty. “Where’s Sam?”

“Exactly. Where is him?”

“I don’t- Wait, did he leave?”

“To hell if I know. He doesn’t tell me anything these days, it’s all about you and how good it is to have a sibling who listens.” Dean was bitter.

“What are you, jealous?”

“Yeah, we don’t have time for you to give me a therapy session. Do you know where he is or not?”

“Of course not!”

“Emily…?”

“I don’t fucking know! Wait, let me call him.” She took her phone from the floor next to the bed and quickly dialed his number, which quickly went to voicemail. She looked at Dean, who had been standing in front of her bed, hands on his waist. Emily jumped out of bed and quickly got ready. As they crossed the street, Dean dialed another number on his phone, the fourth since she had woken up and waited for an answer. After briefly speaking with Ellen, he hung up again, but just as he was about to say something, Emily’s head started to burn. He kept walking, but she stopped and moaned, in pain. She stumbled towards the closest wall.

“Emily! Is everything okay?”

“No- give me a second.”

“What’s-”

“I said give me a second!” She repeated, clutching her head with both hands, extraneous images forming in front of her. As she finally reached the wall and was able to lean on it, the images became clear, the pain not getting any milder.

Sam was sitting on a bed, in a motel, somewhere. He was staring numbly at the wall, covered in blood. She tried to look up to tell Dean, but more details appeared.

Motel, a blue building, Twin Lakes, Wisconsin. Room 109.

When she finally opened her eyes, chest bent on her knees, Dean was towering over her, worried.

“I know where he is.”

“Who, Sam?”

“Yes, Dean-ugh…“

“Okay, easy now, what did you see?”

“Sam, he- he’s in Wisconsin.”

“Wisconsin? What-”

“I don’t know, okay? He’s in a motel in Twin Lakes and…“ She exhaled, hesitating. “I am not sure, but I think he was covered in blood.”

“His blood?”

“I don’t know.” Emily stood back up. “Dean, I have a bad feeling about this.”

“Okay, let’s go.” He started walking towards the car and in less than a minute they were on the road. “Emily, are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll be okay. It’s just my head.”

“Are you sure?”

“Just.. drive, would you?” She answered, nervous. Dean’s expression hardened but he, indeed, kept driving and didn't argue with her any longer. Having visions was extremely exhausting: Emily felt her whole body as tired as she would have been if she just spent the whole day running, yet she could not sleep because her head still hurt.

Nervous, she kept shifting in her seat, Dean’s gaze falling on her every time she would.

“Emily, he will be fine.”

“I know. I’m just worried.”

“I know.” With those words, the car started going faster.

They reached their destination and nervously started walking through the narrow hallways, trying to find the room Sam was staying at. They almost passed it, Dean stopping Emily from her jacket as she walked. He knocked. “Sam, it’s me!” Not receiving an answer, Dean intensified his knocking. Emily, disturbed by the noise, moved him away and just tried to open the door. When she opened it, Sam was sitting on the bed, in the same exact position she had seen him earlier.

He turned to Emily and Dean, who had been standing in the door. “Oh, hey.” He said, empty voice.

“Sam, what’s going on?” Emily walked into the room, Dean closely following, and crouched next to Sam, trying to understand if he was hurt. “Are you bleeding?”

“No, no- I don’t think that’s mine.” Emily and Dean exchanged a quick glare, apprehension growing higher.

“Sam, what’s going on?” Asked Dean.

Emily looked at Sam. Something was not right, it felt off. From his behavior, she was expecting to feel fear, maybe a little bit of panic, but all she could feel -and she was sure, it was coming from Sam- was anger. Lots.

Keeping that weird piece of info to herself, she watched Dean leave to get some food. The second the door closed, she stood back up and sat on the bed, next to Sam.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” She asked, stroking his back over his shirt. Sam nodded weakly. “Don’t worry, we’ll figure out what’s going on. Here-” Emily retrieved Sam’s bag from the corner where she had thrown it while entering the room and handed him a shirt. ”...You should probably take a shower and get changed.”

While Sam was in the shower, Dean came back from his supply run. “How’s he doing?”

“I don’t know, I-”

“What do you mean? What about your telepathy thingy?” The sound of the shower getting closed interrupted them. A minute later, Sam came out of the bathroom with clean clothes.

“Did you find out anything?” He asked Dean, drying his hair with a towel.

“You checked in two days ago under the name Richard Sambora.” He explained. “Of course, I think the scariest part about this whole thing is the fact that you're a Bon Jovi fan.”

Sam and Emily scowled at him. “Then how the hell did I get here, Dean? What happened to me?” Said Sam, nervously rubbing his head.

“I don't know. But you're okay, and that's what matters. Everything else we can deal with.”

“Oh really? 'Cause what if I hurt someone? Or worse?”

“Sam, I am sure you did nothing wrong.” Said Emily. “This is not about what dad said.”

“She’s right.” Said Dean. Sam and Emily looked at him, almost surprised. “I know, I didn’t think I would have ever said it, but- She’s right. Let’s not jump the gun, what’s the last thing you remember?”

“Just me and Emily, just, in that motel room in West Texas, going out to grab some burgers, and…“

“West Texas?” Intervened Emily. “It’s been- what, like one week?”

“That’s the last thing. Next thing I knew I was sitting here. Bloody. Felt like I'd been asleep for a month.”

“Okay.” Said Dean, suddenly moving towards the window. “Retrace your steps. The manager said you left yesterday afternoon and he never saw you come back, so…“ He pulled back the curtains, revealing a bloody handprint on the window.

Sam finished drying his hair and they left, trying to retrace Sam’s steps. “How did you guys know where I was anyway?” He asked as they walked back the same corridor Emily and Dean had just walked through.

“I had a vision.” Said Emily, gazing out one of the hallway windows. It had started raining. As they arrived out the door, Sam looked around.

“Recognize anything?”

“Not really- wait.” He stopped, staring at the garages in the back of the motel. “Try to open that one.” He pointed to the second door. Dean started trying to pry it open, but Sam stopped him, pensively taking a key out of his pocket. Emily gave him a worried look, which turned into surprise when he took out a key from his pocket.

After opening the door, Dean revealed an old car, most likely stolen. Sam, nervous, opened the door of the car, but suddenly froze.

“What?” Asked Emily, also approaching the car. Inside, a she saw that the backseat was covered in blood. “Sam, what the hell have you done here?!” She picked up a bloodied knife.

“You think I used this on someone?” Asked Sam. Emily and Dean exchanged another apprehensive look.

“We're not thinking anything.” Said Dean.

“Dude.” Added Emily. “This isn't even the most disturbing part.” She picked up a pack of cigarettes. “Really Sam? Menthols?” She took a disgusted sniff at the pack before throwing it back at the bottom of the vehicle. He grimaced, equally disgusted.

“Here.” Said Dean, picking up something else from the bottom of the car. “Gas receipt. Few towns over.”

After closing the garage door, they went to the Impala and drove to the gas station.

Dean looked inside the store. “You getting any, uh, any goosebumps yet? 'God, this looks familiar', deja vu vibes?”

Sam shook his head. They all left and walked inside the store, but the clerk immediately look at them, angry.

“You. Outta here now, I'm calling the cops.” He pointed towards Emily and Sam, who had entered slightly after Dean. Emily pointed at herself, confused.

“You talking to me?” Her mind started to wander around, trying to guess on which occasion she had entered the store and why the clerk would be so angry at her.

“No, the tall guy! Jerk comes in yesterday, stinking drunk, grabs a forty from the fridge, starts chugging.” Said the clerk, who had the phone already in his hand.

“This guy?” Asked Emily. “What, you drinking malt liquor? Who are you?!”

“Not after he whipped the friggin' bottle at my head.”

“This guy?” Repeated Dean.

“What, am I speaking Urdu?” The clerk started dialing something on the phone.

“Look, I'm really sorry if I did anything-” Tried to say Sam.

“Tell your story walkin', pal.” The clerk interrupted him. “Po-po will be here in five.”

Dean approached him. “Wait, wait, put the phone down.” He said. “Sam, go wait in the car.”

“But Dean-” Emily glanced at Dean and started walking Sam towards the door.

“Let's go, come on.” Sam reluctantly walked back to the car. Emily giggled.

“You find this funny?”

“Just the part where you are basically an unhinged version of me, at least you were when you came here.”

“I don't even remember doing that.”

“I know.” Said Emily, suddenly serious again. “That's the not funny part.”

Dean came out of the store soon after. They started driving again.

“What's going on with you, Sam? Hm? 'Cause smoking, throwing bottles at people, I mean, that sounds more like Emily than you.” Asked Dean.

“That's the same thing I said.” Shrugged Emily.

“Emily, wait- Dean, turn down that road.”

“What?”

“I don't know how I know, I just do.”

Dean turned down the road Sam had just pointed to, which ended up being someone's property. The house had plenty of emergency lighting and security cameras. Whoever lived there was very careful about their surroundings.

They sneaked around the house. The first thing Emily noticed was a broken window. Then, Sam pointed at a disabled alarm.

“Sam, I'm starting to be seriously worried. Why were you here?”

“I- I don't remember.”

“Alright, no panic, okay?” Said Dean, walking in the middle of them and approaching the broken window. “Let's see what's inside.”

Emily soon regretted entering the house. There was a strong scent of blood and it also smelled a little bit of dead body. The vision they came across when they entered the bedroom was even worse.

“Holy shit.” Emily covered her mouth the second she entered and turned back out when she saw the body on the floor. His throat was cut, blood pooling all around him, his eyes still staring, terrified.

“Dean, I did this.” Said Sam. Emily wasn't looking anymore. She was standing in the adjacent look, trying not to vomit for both the scent and the amount of blood she had just witnessed. It wasn't like it was the first time she saw blood. But when it was human it always hit differently. Maybe it was for the good that she never became a surgeon.

As she thought that, she heard Sam and Dean grow more alarmed.

“What else do you need?” Asked Sam. “I mean, how else do you explain the car, the knife, the blood…“

“I don't know, man, why don't you tell me?!” Asked Dean. “Look, even if you did do this I'm sure you had a reason, you know; self-defense, uh, he was, he was a bad son of a bitch, something! By the way, he doesn't have any ID.”

Even then, as Sam looked at the dead body he seemed convinced to have killed, Emily couldn't feel anything coming from Sam. Did he suddenly learn how to control his powers? Or was there something else going on.

“Emily, come here, you might want to see this.” Said Dean's voice. Taking a big breath, Emily came back into the room. “Are you okay?” He asked, looking her up and down.

“Yeah, it's just the stench, it's horrible.”

“I thought you were used to it.”

“Well, turns out I'm not!” She said, bitter, getting closer to the screen. “What did you find?”

“Surveillance tape, yogurt. I think they might tell us what happened here.”

Dean started the tapes, which showed Sam entering the room and violently killing the person who lived inside. Emily didn't say anything, she just crossed her arms and waited for Dean to say something. Before he talked, he looked at her, probably expecting her to have an opinion, as she usually did.

But not that time. Emily didn't want to have an opinion. She had built an image of Sam as the calm brother, the one to speak to when something was wrong, the one who would have listened and the one who wouldn't get drunk so he could drive her and Dean back safely.

Seeing him killing someone suddenly reminded that he was, just like Dean, trained like a soldier. That all the calm he showed was just a choice and if he wanted to kill, he would be able to kill. And he did.

So Emily stood there, staring at an indefinite point in front of her. Dean started talking.

“Alright listen. Whoever this guy is, he's a hunter. Which means that other hunters are going to come looking for his killer, which means we've got to cover our tracks, okay?” Sam nodded. After finding a letter addressed to the dead man, Steve Wandell, Dean resolutely took the computer's hard drive and smashed it onto the floor, making Emily flinch. “Wipe your prints, then we go.” He announced, tossing Sam a rag.

They silently got back in the motel. Emily still had not said a word and Dean had become progressively more nervous throughout the silent journey. “Emily.” He called.

“Uh?” She answered, pensive.

“You haven't said a single word for hours. Should I be worried about you too?”

“What?” She sat straighter in her chair. “No, I'm just thinking.”

“Alright.” Dean glared at her and then closed the motel door. “We get a couple hours sleep and then we put this place in our rearview mirror.” Sam looked at him, silent. Emily raised her eyebrows, not really liking the solution provided by Dean, but nontheless gathered a t-shirt she had left on the floor. “Look, I know this is bad, okay? You gotta snap out of it.” Emily stuffed her shirt in her bag, expecting Sam to answer Dean. When he didn't, Dean called his name again. “Sam, say something!”

“Just get some sleep and leave in the morning?” Repeated Sam, stern. “Murder, Dean. That's what I did.” Emily stopped preparing her bag to look at him, frowning.

“Maybe.” Stuttered Dean, looking for words. “Hey, we don't know, it could have been a shapeshifter!”

“Dean, come on-” Said Emily, aggressively closing the zip on her bag. “We saw the tapes, there was no eye flare.”

“Yeah, but it wasn't him! I mean it might have been you, but it wasn't you.” He pointed at Sam.

“Dean, that doesn't make any sense.” Emily sat down on the bed.

“Emily, what side are you on? Do you really think Sam did it?”

Emily didn't answer. She didn't want to think about Sam being able to commit murder just like that. She wanted to find an excuse, a possibility, but nothing made any sense. Every scenario she made up in her head didn't comply with reality: Sam could have done it. But still, it was weird. Why didn't he remember anything? And why did her powers suddenly stop working with him? The weird, white noise coming from Sam was unusual. Especially in a situation where she was sure, Sam would have been full of emotions. “Emily?” Repeated Dean, looking for an answer.

“I don't know, okay? This whole thing… very weird if you ask me. But- Dean, if you need to find an excuse for what Sam - or Sam’s evil twin - did, at least- at least find a good one, okay?!”

“Listen-”

“Dean, she's right.” Interrupted Sam, frowning. Emily leaned on the separator between the door and the room. “For the last few weeks I've been having... I've been having these feelings.”

It wasn't true. Emily knew that if he did, she would have felt them. It was the first day in a long, long time she was not connected with him. Sam sat down on the bed and Dean quickly followed.

“What feelings?” He asked.

“Rage. Hate. And I can't stop it. It just gets worse. Day by day, it gets worse. I’ve been feeling…“ He raised his hand, pointing at Emily. She recognized that description. She felt the same way, all the time. She had always thought it was because she had lost her mother, her little brother, that it was because John and Dean were absolutely unsustainable people to have around, but what if it was something the demon had done to her? But then, there was the fact that Sam had not been feeling any of that. Or at least not as intensely as he was describing.

Or, maybe he had learnt how to block her out all of a sudden.

”...just like I do.” Concluded Emily. “Well, that doesn’t make me any less worried.”

“You never told me this.” Said Dean, nervous.

“I didn't want to scare you.” As Sam said that, Emily raised her eyebrows and with a big exhale, pushed herself away from the wall and stood in the middle of the two beds.

“Dean, the yellow-eyed demon, you know he has plans for us. And we both know that he's turned other children into killers before, too.”

“Wait- you’re saying that…“ Intervened Emily. “All this time, I’ve been angry because of that? The demon is just trying to turn me into a killer?”

“Yeah, I thought you might agree with me.”

“I’m not agreeing with you- Sam, what’s going on? Why are you blocking me out like that?”

Sam seemed surprised. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You don’t? Because we’ve been basically sharing the same brain for months. What’s up with that now? Where did that go?!”

Sam stood up, looking at her. His expression was intelligible and Emily wasn’t able to understand his intentions until she got hit in her face. Losing her balance, she hit her head on the wall behind her and quickly passed out, not really able to decipher what was happening around her.

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