don't F E A R the R E A P E R

[Emma Bell]

She was exhausted, completely and totally exhausted. The past few months were catching up with her in a big way. If she thought she was overwhelmed before she really was now. It was times like these that she wished she did not work alone, someone to split the work with sometimes. Alas, that was the life of a hunter. You worked alone, unless you were the Winchesters. They got lucky, at least in her view. She would never say she was jealous of the Winchesters, not at all, but sometimes she wished she had someone to share the burden with. She had heard a lot about the Winchesters, mostly from Chris but never had the pleasure of meeting them... if it was indeed a pleasure.

Sometimes she wondered if Chris just thought they were so great because they were good friends. Emma had known Chris for most of her life so she trusted his word, but she heard some whispers circulating around the hunting community about the Winchesters. Rumors about Sam specifically. Emma tried not to believe the rumors though. Bobby and Chris both said that Sam was not dangerous, so she did her best to believe their words, some of that came from the fact that the rumors were started by Gordon Walker, a man Emma had a personal hatred for. He was responsible for killing her father. She chose not to believe the rumors, at least not one hundred percent. She had her questions though.

More demons meant more hunting, which lead to more sore muscles. Which brought her to her current situation. She sat in her hotel room, well... was laying in her hotel room, staring up at the ceiling after a particularly long fight with a demon. Lucky for her she had sent the thing back to hell with minimal damage to herself, or the man it was possessing. She was sore though. Her body bruised and her muscles tense and she did not know a way to fix it. Emma got up and took a shower, thinking maybe the hot water would soothe her muscles but it did no such thing. She she got out of the shower and got dressed, wearing simple black cotton pajama pants and a black tank top.

She looked around her room and rolled her eyes before opening the door to her hotel room, looking for something to drink. "Of course, just my luck," she muttered to herself. She was out of soda, beer, anything. There was nothing to drink in her hotel room. Emma whined quietly to herself as she searched through her pockets for some change. Once she found some she out into the hall, change in her hand. She had her headphones snugly in her ear, listening to "Double Vision" from Foreigner. Emma headed down towards the vending machines, her bare feet patting along the linoleum floor. As she turned the corner she was suddenly stopped by crashing into a solid mass. It almost knocked her onto the ground.

[Sam Winchester]

Sam greatly disliked hotels while on a job. They were too fancy…and too conspicuous, for their line of work. It was hard to load and unload their things quickly, and they were much more expensive than a sleazy motel room. And frankly, over the last three years, Sam had gotten quite used to motel rooms. He was even starting to like them. But for some unknown reason, this hunt had to be conducted from a hotel room. He didn’t mind hotels when he was on his own, or traveling, but on a hunt, it was a cumbersome, pricey mess. So at such a late hour, the only television options being an infomercial for male enhancement, QVC, or Gilmore Girls reruns, Sam decided he needed air and a Cherry Coke.

His long, pajama clad legs carried him down the hall towards the vending machine. His brown fingers turned the money clip over in his hand, and his eyes glanced at the gold-leaved, faux-baroque décor of the long hallway. It was pretty, in a gaudy, cheap way. He didn’t mind that, so much. At least this one didn’t have Xerox prints of famous artworks like the last hotel he’d been in did. It had been the Mona Lisa every 8 feet down the hall. Much as he loved the painting, that was just too much. The glow of the red soda machine looked inviting as he walked towards. Yay…more caffeine to keep him up even later doing even less than he was before. Fun stuff.

He had reached the Coke machine and had just straightened to walk back to his room when a small, light figure collided with him. He spun, and reached out a hand, keeping her from hitting the ground and helping her straightened. “Oh, I’m so sorry.” Even though it wasn’t his fault, Sam was always polite. He’d spent enough time around women to know that they could and would take offense at anything, and it was better for him if he didn’t have a young woman mad at him. Young women tended to be vicious.

[Emma Bell]

It felt as though she hit a brick wall and only realized it was a person when a hand reached out and caught her before she hit the ground. She pulled the earphones out of her ears and looked up at the young, very tall man in front of her. A smile crept onto her face as she regarded him. He was certainly not lacking in good looks. Emma started to think of cheesy romantic comedies where stuff like this happened. She hated those movies. Emma forced her thoughts back to the task at hand, just barely catching the young man's apology. She smiled, looking up at him. He seemed nice. You did not find many nice guys out in the world these days. He actually apologized to her, even though it was most likely her fault.

"No, no, its my fault." Emma smiled up at him, catching the color of his eyes. Her free hand (the one without the change in it) came up to the necklace around her neck, playing absently with a small charm that was attached to it. Chris gave the charm to her a few months back, just after the Devil's Gate was opened. He told her that his dad said it would protect her against demonic possession. Anything that kept those bastards out of her she was willing to try. Since then Emma had not taken it off. She wore it almost religiously, never could let your guard down. She knew that the moment she took that thing off, with her luck she would get herself possessed.

Emma stepped passed this so far nameless young man and slipped her coins into the machine. "Son of a bitch," she muttered. Sure enough, as her luck would have it she was five cents short. Emma glanced over at the young man, her face turning a bright shade of red. "You don't happen to have five cents on you do you?" She felt like an idiot asking a complete stranger for change, though it was only five cents. She knew she should have double checked before she left her room. Oh well, too late now. All she could do was hope that he had at least five cents on him, and if he did, hope that he was willing to give the change to her. She was in desperate need of some caffeine, and this was the only way to get it.

[Sam Winchester]

Sam chuckled a little as the young woman regained her bearings. Her hand came up to a charm around her throat. One that reminded him quite a bit of Dean’s. Either she was a hunter, or she knew a hunter. Or she was new-agey. That was a possibility too. The necklace had the shiny, soft look of something that had been rubbed or handled frequently, rather like Dean’s own. It made him extremely curious, but when you asked a young woman in a random hall if they were a hunter, they either told you “Yes”, “My boyfriend hunts deer…?” or they shoved you into a wall for being cruel to animals. And with the odds looking like 1 in 3, Sam figured he would just keep his mouth shut. His eyes scanned the young woman. Dark hair, dark eyes, pale skin, and tattoos. She reminded him of Meghan, to be honest. She had the same sort of look about her. It gave him a small affinity to the nameless young woman, who’d run smack into him. He was very close to his sister, so other girls of that style made him feel a little fuzzy inside.

He smiled as she attempted to buy herself a soda. The curse that fell out of her mouth made him chuckle. It was easily Dean’s favorite expletive. The more he watched her, the more she seemed to scream “hunter”. The controlled grace and subtle muscle, the stocky, planted posture, the swagger…it was all signature of someone in his line of work. It was also signature of a dancer, though, and based off of the ballet slipper tattoo, that was probably much more likely. She turned to him, and asked for a nickel. “I’m sure I probably do…” He searched through his pockets, and scrounged up a nickel that had probably been in there for three years. “Here you go…You’re lucky…I usually try not to keep any change.” Sam laughed quietly, and handed her the small piece of metal.

He popped the tab on his Cherry Coke idly, and gave a small exclamation as it fizzed and foamed all over the place. He’d been so busy analyzing the potential hunter/dancer that he hadn’t remembered to tap the lid of his Coke and let it settle before he opened it. So now he had cherry cola scented foam splattered all over himself, and the gaudy floor beneath his feet, and a little bit on the young woman. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry…” He tried cleaning up the mess he’d made, but it didn’t do much good when he didn’t have a rag or papertowel. He looked around, finding a maidstation cart that had been left unattended. He grabbed a spare roll of double-ply toilet paper off of the rolling cart and opened it, cleaning up the can, his hand, his shirt, the floor, and handing her a large piece to clean up her arm. “I’m so sorry…I’m not concentrating too well tonight…”

[Emma Bell]

She could feel his eyes on her. As Emma took the nickel and got herself a soda she took a moment to glance over at the man that was easily a foot taller than her. There was a slightly cautionary look in his eyes as he studied her. The same kind of look she had in her own. Emma did not say anything. She kept her suspicions to herself, simply wondering why someone like him would be alone in a hotel in the middle of nowhere. It seemed somewhat odd, though there she was, alone in a hotel in the middle of nowhere. She was a hunter though, that gave her some kind of excuse for odd behavior, or something. The thought that this young man was a hunter never really crossed her mind.

He did not have that... well there wasn't really a word for it, but whatever it was that made one a hunter, she did not get that kind of vibe from him. She did get the vibe that he was different, maybe not completely normal though that could have simply been because he was so very tall, and she found it odd that he would be here. There was nothing really special about this tiny town. Emma had just finished a hunt here. She was going to move on to the next town, after she got some rest. Then the memory came back to her. Those stiff achy muscles. She rolled her shoulders back after picking up her soda, in hopes for some kind of tension release, but there was nothing.

Then suddenly she felt something hit her arm. If he was not so tall, she would have completely forgotten the guy was there. She looked down and saw that the can had exploded when he opened it. Emma tried her best to stifle any sort of laughter at his response, but was horribly unsuccessful. While he looked around for some sort of towel or something to clean it up with, she was laughing, covering her mouth trying to hide it. He really was rather adorable when she took a second glance at him. She took the piece of toilet paper that he offered her and wiped off the small amount of soda that had gotten onto her arm, still giggling.

She looked up at him after that was all clean and smiled. "Smooth," she teased. Emma leaned against the soda machine. She put a hand on her hip and the other held her soda. Emma tapped the top of it gently before opening the can. After taking a drink she glanced up at the young man once more and smiled. "Name's Emma." Not that it mattered what her name was because she was two seconds from walking back into her room and honestly, what were the odds of ever seeing this guy again, no matter how adorable he was? She figured she would give him his name anyway. It seemed polite, not that Emma was very aware of what 'polite' was. She was raised by men, and not exactly men with the best manners.