November '79
On a back lane just outside London a young couple were returning home with their baby from a visit with her Grandparents, the road was narrow and the daylight was fading as night fell. The car approached a T-junction, and seeing no other headlights for miles the mother pulled out and turned right. Just as they crossed the road a crash reverberated through the car as it was pushed along, stuck on the front of a lorry. The headlights were off, as were the lights in the man's eyes – in fact they were black. As both lorry and car came to a stop a hiss of black smoke whipped out of the lorry cabin and joined the smoke from the burning car drifting away from the crash site. The driver from the lorry stumbled out of the door, slashing his arm on the broken glass shocking him into realisation. Something inside him had made him turn off his lights and smash into the car that was in pieces in front of him, what made it worse was he could hear a baby inside the wreck crying. He did the only thing he could think of, run.
That night as the sun set a man in a trench coat approached the totalled car and pulled the baby out of the carrier seat in the front. The man brushed all remaining fragments of glass from her, instantly healing the few small cuts that littered her exposed skin, and smiled softly at her tiny face. Then he disappeared. When he reappeared he was surrounded by cars, old beaten cars, parts scattered and metal everywhere. Walking through the crowded yard he passed under an archway with as sign reading 'Singer Auto Salvage' towards a house crammed in between all of the junk.
The door was shut and the lights were off, but the man inside the house was not asleep. Bobby Singer was lying on the couch in his living room surrounded by books but was too tired to move. He knew he had to get to bed, but the last hunt he went on had taken it out of him, Rufus sure did have a thing about Vamps. Suddenly he was awake when he heard a creak from his front porch, grabbing his shotgun from the floor beside him and pulling the silver knife from the sheath on the side table in the hall. Slowly he opened the door, not knowing what to expect, with gun and knife outstretched defensively. There was nothing there.
Bobby gave himself about 2 seconds to doubt his hearing before pulling the chord for the light on the porch and discovering the bundle that lay 3 feet in front of him. Shoving the silver knife between his belt and jeans he bent down to move some of the blankets, faltering as a cry escaped the baby's lips. 'Who in their right minds would leave a baby at a scrapyard?' Bobby muttered, reaching down and picking up the child, holding it close to him and supporting its head. The baby couldn't have been more than a couple of months old and squirmed as she reacted to the new position, calming slightly as Bobby swayed to calm her. He turned off the light and squinted into the distance to see if he could spot whoever left the baby there but even as his eyes adjusted to the dark he could see nothing other than the usual outline of cars in the yard.
No longer feeling tired Bobby cleared a space in the kitchen and tried to gather up some supplies to last the night, though in his thousands of books none ever mentioned caring for a baby. He would have to go shopping. Bobby watched as the baby settled back to sleep in a cot made from an old box and whatever blankets he could find, if only his wife was still here she would know exactly what to do. While thinking about his next move, Bobby finally fell asleep slumped over one of the kitchen chairs next to the baby facing towards the door with his shotgun next to him.
A piercing cry echoed through the house, bouncing off every surface waking Bobby who raised his shotgun in defense before realising that it was in fact not a monster that had woken him, but a baby. Rubbing his face calmly he stumbled getting up from the chair and made his way to the make shift crib to check on the child. From what he could see the baby was fine, but from what he could smell, well that was a different story. Trying his best Bobby managed after a few fumbling minutes to replace the nappy that she was wearing with a makeshift one made out of spare bandages and cloth. After a glance at the clock Bobby decided that he would be at the nearest store by opening if he left straight away so he made the decision to wrap the child up and bundle her into the car with him.
After 5 miles Bobby realised he had made a mistake. He had no car seat and with every turn, stop or passing vehicle he was more and more panicked. The little girl however was more and more amused; she wriggled and giggled with not a care in the world. He smiled to himself, it was a joy to have something so innocent next to him when he was used to fighting his way through blood and guts or researching death omens. As the trees along the road became less dense and the houses more common, Bobby spotted a church up ahead. An idea sprung into his head and he took the turn, pulling in front of the church and slowly breaking as to not let the baby roll off the seat. He got out of the car, shutting the door quietly and walked around the car to the passenger side, when a man in a trench coat appeared in between him and the door.
Bobby jumped back and was about to grab his knife when the man began to speak. 'Bobby Singer, you have been chosen to care for this child. I left her with you last night, however I was unaware that you would try to get rid of her.' While the man paused Bobby jumped in.
'What the hell are you? And why would you just leave a baby outside some rickety old house in the middle of nowhere?'
'I am an angel of the Lord. My name is Castiel and I am to watch over Hermione and her family, which is now you.' The angel glanced at the baby in the car and then back at Bobby, 'Her parents were killed in a car crash in London, and it was decided that you would be able to best care for this child. Look after her.' With no warning he was gone again leaving a stunned Bobby and a gurgling baby.
'Hermione, huh' Bobby muttered as he settled himself back into the driver's seat. 'Guess I'm gonna have to get myself acquainted with the whole father thing eh, little one' He pulled back onto the road and headed to the nearest store he could find.
It really was going to take Bobby a little while to get used to having another little human to take care of, and seemingly never having two hands free. Going around the small store was a pain, but with some help from a cooing redhead and her manager who couldn't seem to get enough of Hermione he had managed to get the main supplies that he would need to keep the two of them alive for the next couple of weeks. The staff had also pointed him towards a store in town where he could get a carrier and car seat, reluctantly letting him go when Hermione starting fussing.
Bobby got back to the yard more exhausted than he had after any hunt, his car filled with baby stuff and Hermione asleep again in her new clothes with a clean diaper. His wallet was cleaned out and he was running low on cash, it seemed like this baby was going to suck more out of him than a vamp.
He decided to get Hermione settled and fed before unpacking the rest of the stuff from the car, taking the carrier into the house and setting her down in the kitchen. He stopped when he noticed the same man from earlier standing in the corner. He wasn't quite sure he was ready to call the thing an angel; he knew that demons were real - but angels - that was a whole different ball game. Hearing Bobby enter the kitchen the man turned around, he had a file crammed with papers in one hand which he placed on the table.
'These are all you should need, I have entered her into the correct databases. As of now Hermione is your child, adopted, but yours.' With one last look at the baby in the carrier he disappeared leaving behind the file and a small gust of wind. Usually, Bobby would have gone straight for the file of papers, but Hermione needed feeding and Bobby had a new first priority. As he set about making up a bottle for Hermione, he assessed the house and what changes he would need to make in order to look after this little girl. He was going into this head first and decided that on his next trip out he would pick up some parenting books so that he could do what he did best... research.
The next few months were rocky, with Bobby juggling a baby which he knew nothing about, starting to properly advertise his business, and cutting all ties to the hunting community. He was spending every spare minute baby proofing the house; staring with the perfect nursery that his wife had described to him years ago when they first looked at the house. Standing back into the hall and surveying his work he sighed, what would she have said if she was here now? She would probably tell him that the cot should be facing the window or the wallpaper was a little too bright or something equally as unimportant to him.