Hey guys, so this is my very first fanfic, and it's the first story I wrote in English. I'm awfully sorry for any stupid grammar mistakes, if you find some let me know:)

A friend made me publish this story, and I should actually be studying right now, so I'll probably upload the chapters I already finished over the next few days and then we'll see.

I do not own the show Supernatural or its characters or they would all be happy and have everything they want. I also don't own the songs that give the chapters their names.

I hope you guys enjoy this story, which is mostly about family but also about the global consequences of what our boys do in the US. Okay, let's go.

Chapter One- Hey Jude

"Hey, Jude, don't make it bad"

I slam the oven door shut and almost shout the next line.

"Take a sad song, and make it better"

God, I love that song. Wait, if I say something like that, should I use God or rather Chuck? Why didn't I ask him? Typically me: meets God and, instead of asking the real important questions, asks about some guy I've never met, never wanted to meet, but have been hating my whole damn life.

Maybe it was his sister though. Amara really really freaked me out.

Well, that isn't important anymore. Right now, it's all about me, the Beatles and the pie in the oven.

"Na na nanananananana" I'm pretty sure I sang a few Na's too much but I don't care. I'm on my own, the music is so loud even I can't hear me singing, the smell of baked goods is filling the air and, well, I'm alone in the bunker anyway.

At least that's what I thought.

I'm spinning around in the kitchen, singing, kinda dancing, having more fun than I had since...

And then, I turn around, and look right into the barrel of a gun. And a beautiful one.

The gun lies in a man's hand. The guy is at least ten centimetres taller than me and stares at me with a look that would probably kill me if looks were able to do so.

"Who are you?" It's not really a question, more of an order.

"I-" I start to say and then stop. Not because I don't know how I'm gonna say what I have to say, I have been thinking about that for my whole freaking life, I know exactly what I want to say. Not because of the gun pointed at me, I couldn't care less about that. No, I stop because the guy standing behind Gun-Guy is bleeding.

Like, Red-Niagara-Falls-On-His-Face-Bleeding.

"Holy shit!" Flinching because of that- for me rather innocent- curse, I try to get to the even taller guy with the long hair, but the slightly smaller but still very intimidating man with the freaking gun in his hands tells me to stop.

"Who are you?" He almost hisses at me.

"Let me help your brother, okay? Please?!" I try Puppy-Eyes and it looks like they almost work. Almost.

"You know us? Why are you here?" He gestures around with that stupid beautiful gun in his hand and if he was anyone other than Dean Winchester, I would probably be scared of him accidentally shooting me.

"Please. He's hurting and I can help him. Just, please?" He looks really confused but seems to decide that I don't pose a great threat to him and his brother, because even if Sam is hurt, they are still the Winchesters and I know who they are, so I must know what they're capable of no matter how badly they might be bleeding.

"Okay, I'm just gonna get some stuff to take care of that wound, out of my backpack over there", I gesture to the small black bag leaning against the fridge, "and then I'll stitch up that cut on your face", I look from Dean to Sam. Wow, they look a lot alike if you look past the obvious differences. And that nose sitting right under Dean's green eyes reminds me of-" and then we can talk, okay? I'm not going to hurt anyone. I really just wanna help." They nod. I nod. Great.

Two steps over to the fridge. Ten seconds to pull the first aid kit out. Five steps to stand in front of Sam. Fifteen seconds to put on the blue gloves I stole in a hospital.

"Nananana, Hey Jude!" The Beatles fade away and suddenly it is really quiet in the Bunker.

Andy Grammer's Keep Your Head Up is almost over, being replaced by Juke box hero, when I take out the bottle of disinfectant again and spray some on the awful cut right above Sam's right eye that I just stitched up without him even flinching once. I put the bottle on the table next to the gauze and the needle. The gloves I just throw right next to the stuff, everything's full of blood but at least Sam's face isn't anymore.

"I'll clean this and then-"

Dean interrupts me. "The hell you are! First, you'll tell us who you are, how you got here and what you want!"

I sigh. The gun still pointed at me doesn't scare me at all. I've had too many guns pointed at me, too many triggers pulled that fired a shot in my direction, I'm used to it. So I just sigh again.

"What I want? Talk. First. Then? We'll see. How I got here? Well, I'm just that good of a hunter. Who I am?"

I pause.

This is it.

The point of no return.

Right now, I could leave. Just get my stuff and go, forget this ever happened.

Or I could say one sentence, that would completely turn my life around.

One sentence that would probably get me killed in the end.

I inhale, try to say it, fail and exhale loudly.

I swallow dryly and look at them. They both look a little confused, a lot angry and mildly concerned.

Sighing again I close my eyes and open them while I inhale deeply again.

This is it.

"I am-"

There's black smoke.

Where the hell did that demon come from? This is one of the most powerfully warded places on the face of the earth!

But the air doesn't smell like sulphur, I quickly check.

It smells like burnt pie.

"Crap!"

I turn around and open the oven and pull out the grid, burning my fingers. I grab the towel hanging next to the oven and pull the damn pie I completely forgot about out of it's own little hell and toss it on the stove.

"Dammit! Fuck!" I turn off the heat and turn back around to face the Winchesters who now stare at me with the exact same look of surprise and weirded-outness in both their eyes.

"Sorry, eh, I thought I'd make you some pie, but, uhm... You guys came home a lot earlier than I thought you would... Uhm..."

They look even more confused if that's possible. I kind of smile at them and want to kick myself in the face for the stupid expression I probably just showed them.

"Well... eh... I bought some pie, too. I mean, it's not as good as self-made pie, but it's pie nonetheless, right? So, eh, it's in the fridge and I just thought we could eat some pie and drink coffee or tea or, well, beer, if you prefer that, and just talk and I really thought you'd come home tomorrow or the day after, because the newspaper article I found was from last week and I thought when you followed that lead, then it would take you at least ten days so I thought... Maybe I thought a little too much. Eh... Sorry?"

Sometime during my monologue, Dean has lowered his gun. Right. No one that talks so much crap could be someone who is able to hurt the Winchesters.

I clear my throat and just keep going, because, hell, I screwed it up already so fuck it, right?

"But then again, you guys have a lot of practise, right. You even saved the world, some say. Well, I mean a lot of people say that you both have died before, so… I don't know. Did you? Die, I mean? Doesn't matter sorry, I'm not asking the questions, you are, right? Wait, you asked me something, right? Who I am?"

Dean slowly nods. He looks kinda shocked. Wow. I really screwed it all up.

What do I even care?

I hate the man, right?

Hated him every day of my life. I don't have to not screw anything up, because there isn't anything to screw up, because there just isn't anything.

"Okay, wait. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have come here. Sorry. I shouldn't have just come in here and bake pie and stitch you up and l talk to you and probably scare you, you know what? I'm just gonna grab my stuff and leave, alright? Don't mind me, I'm leaving. Sorry for everything, Sam I wish you a fast recovery, maybe you guys can save some of the pie I made, or you could just eat the one in the fridge, there's also new beer over there and I bought some vegetables and fruits, they're in the fridge as well, so, have a nice day, eh, life, eh, bye."

Before I can grab my bag, Dean holds me back by just wrapping his whole freaking hand around my upper arm. Chuck, these guys are tall.

"Who are you?"

Inhale.

Exhale.

Do I tell them?

Inhale.

He lets go of my arm.

I should.

Exhale.

I will.

Inhale.

"I think, well I know, I'm pretty sure, that, eh..."

I think I'm gonna chicken out again.

I'll just tell them, right? I can leave after telling them.

No prob.

I'll just tell them.

"I'mprettyverysurethatI'myourdaughter."