Chapter Text
Emma was facing her second hangover that week when her taxi dropped her off back at her place in Sioux Falls, all thanks to Dean Winchester, who was a little too good at convincing people to have “just one more drink”. Thankfully, the headache had subsided from a sharp, insistent knocking to a dull pounding at the side of her head.
To her surprise, Jen was waiting for her already, leaning against her blue Subaru, face turned up towards the sun, wavy blonde hair shining in the sunlight. “Wow,” she said, looking Emma up and down. “You look like shit.”
Emma scowled, shielding her eyes from the sun, which seemed to be too bright even though she was wearing her sunglasses. “Thanks. Did you come here just to insult me, or do you actually have something you want to talk about?” The moment it was out of her mouth, Emma regretted it. She really needed to learn to hold her tongue.
Jen looked a little surprised at her hostility. She was silent for a moment, and then she shrugged. “Shall we go inside, then?”
* * *
The house was a mess, but Emma was too hungover to care. Books were strewn all over the couch and the coffee table, and her bed was practically drowning under a sea of her clothes. She'd spent a long time—far longer than usual—picking out clothes to take with her to Vegas, which may or may not have had anything to do with a certain tall, green-eyed hunter with a soft voice.
Jen stood awkwardly in the middle of the living room, eyes roving over the scattered books while Emma dumped her bag in her bedroom and prepared some coffee. She handed Jen a mug, carelessly swept some of the books off the couch and onto the floor and gestured for her to sit. Jen sat precariously, and Emma perched on the edge of the armchair. “So, what's up?” she said. The old nervousness was back; butterflies were fluttering frantically in her stomach. She took a sip of her coffee to try and steady her nerves.
Jen was silent for some time. She stared expressionlessly at the carpet, her hands clasped around her mug. Her brown eyes were strangely glazed over. “There’s no easy way to say this,” she said finally. Her voice was low and urgent. “So, I’m just going to give it to you straight.”
Emma pressed her lips together.
Jen took a deep breath, looked up, and said, “I’ve decided to give up hunting.”
There was stunned silence for a few seconds. Emma sat frozen on the couch, the mug of coffee burning her palms, but she could hardly feel it. “Why?” Her voice was reduced to a croak.
Jen’s face was flushed, and she was tapping her leg, the way she always did when she was nervous. “Come on, Em,” she said, leaning forward and placing her untouched mug of coffee on the coffee table. “This can't have been a surprise.”
Emma abandoned her coffee too and leaned forward, hands clasped together. “No, but... I was expecting something worse.”
Jen raised an eyebrow. “Like what?”
Emma shrugged, her nervousness dissipating like water evaporating on a hot day. Jen waited for her to say something, but when she didn’t, she continued, “Look, after Jonathan...”
It was as though an invisible hand had squeezed Emma’s guts tight.
“...I don't see the point.”
“The point of hunting?” Emma said abruptly. There was an accusatory tone in her voice, one that she couldn't help.
A flash of hurt crossed Jen’s face and she sat back, crossing her arms defensively. “You know I was only in it because of Jonathan, right?”
“What does that even mean?”
“Jon and his goddamn revenge quest!” Jen snapped. “His—his obsession to find that Skinwalker that killed our parents—that was something he wanted, not me.” She seemed a little disconcerted by her own outburst and relaxed, letting her shoulders droop. When she spoke next, her voice was sad and deflated. “I figured I could either live a boring, normal life and worry about him from a thousand miles away or...” She shook her head and buried her face in her hands.
Emma didn't know what to say. The Jen she knew had always been a very enthusiastic hunter, always eager for the hunt. But now that she thought about it... all the hunts they had ever been on... Jen had always, always volunteered to go with her brother. She had only been interested in keeping him safe. She cleared her throat. “You figured the best way to keep him safe was by being with him.”
Jen looked up. Her blonde hair had gotten a lot longer in the last few months, and it brushed the arm of the couch. “Pretty much.” She shrugged. “Why do you think you and Jon got along so well? It's because you both have that hunger, that thirst.” She looked up at Emma. Her brown eyes were wary. “It scares me sometimes.”
Emma rubbed her clammy hands on her jeans. “Well...” The word came out as a croak, and she cleared her throat determinedly. “What are you going to do?”
Jen looked a little relieved by the change of topic. “Honestly, I have no idea,” she said. “Move to the country maybe. Get a dog.”
Emma ran a hand through her hair. “Jen,” she said. “Is this really what you want?”
Jen's brown eyes were unwavering. “Yes.”
Emma shrugged. “Well... okay then.”
“Okay.” Jen stared at Emma for a second, strangely hesitant, and then she added, “Come with me.”
For a second, Emma couldn't comprehend. “With—with you?”
“Yeah.” There was a faint smile on her face. Her voice was earnest. “Leave this behind, Em. This whole world of monsters and demons—leave it all behind.” Her voice was soft. “Give the apple-pie life another chance.”
Emma hesitated. It wasn’t so much that she didn’t know what to do, more that she didn’t know how to give an answer. She opened her mouth, saw Jen’s hopeful expression, and closed it again.
The slight smile dipped from Jen's face. “That's a no, isn't it?”
Emma didn't know what to say. How could she explain to Jen that hunting was everything to her? Her old self, the one that was blissfully unaware of what lurked in the shadows, was long gone, her world was greyed out like an old black and white movie. She was flimsy, insubstantial. It was in the here and now that she saw the colors—when she was on a case, knife in hand, gun cocked, heart beating frantically. “I'm sorry, Jen.”
The smile was gone completely now. But she didn't look surprised. “I can't say I wasn't expecting it.”
Abruptly, she stood up. Reflexively, Emma stood up too.
Jen looked around the house one last time, as though she was trying to commit it all to memory.
“I guess this is it, then.” Emma clasped her hands tightly in front of her, trying to ignore the bowling ball of a weight that had dropped into her chest.
Jen whirled around and frowned. “What do you mean?”
Emma started. “Well—like—I thought you—I mean, you’re leaving, aren’t you?”
Jen narrowed her eyes. “Yeah, I am, but—” she stopped suddenly, in mid-sentence, and then began to laugh.
Emma blinked. “What the—”
“Did—did you think I was just—going to ditch you?” Jen said, in between laughs.
A flush crept into Emma's cheeks, warm and red. “No,” she said stubbornly.
“Yeah, you did.” Jen was still grinning. “You dumbass. You really think after everything we’ve been through, I’d just cut you off?”
“Sorry,” Emma said, abashed. “I just—I didn’t know what you wanted. You were avoiding me, and—I just figured you’d need some space. Maybe permanently.”
Jen's smile faded a little. “Yeah. I just—I don’t know, I guess I just needed time away from... everything.” She was silent for a moment, and then she grinned again and shook her head. “Wow. I haven’t laughed that hard in a long time.”
Emma shrugged. “Glad I could help.”
Jen chuckled and pulled Emma in for a hug. “Come here, you idiot.”
The feeling of Jen’s arms around her was familiar. Her heart felt lighter than it had felt in weeks. She blinked away the tears she felt prickling at her eyelids; she hadn’t realized how relieved she was to know that she wasn’t going to lose her best friend.