This is a fic about Piper and her dad. Even though there's some things I really don't like things about Piper, I wanted to bring out a more softer side to her.

A Father's Love

I just wish I could understand my father.

~Michael Jackson

Piper was in a dark room and heard whispers from a distance. "We must kill her now that we have a chance," a female viciously said.

"We don't know if she's part of the prophecy!" a male hissed.

"We don't know what she's worth," a powerful female voice said. The female's voice was silky and soft but yet ancient.

"So we wait and see?" the male asked.

"Yes," the ancient voice said, slowly and patiently.

"Can't we have fun?" the female pleaded.

"By all means," the ancient voice agreed.

Piper stood still, not knowing what to do but trembled in fear. Then a snake's tail slowly appeared and slowly wrapped its scaly green skin around her started to cry and started to tug her legs but she couldn't.

"Hush," the ancient voice softly said.

The snake's tail wrapped itself tighter and tighter around Piper, and she tried pushing the snake off of her, but it was no use since the snake was thick and much more heavier than she was. It wrapped itself around Piper's waist, and she turned her head sideways, and her heart nearly stopped. She was face-to-face with the snake that had dark green skin with round yellow eyeballs, black irises the shape of ovals, and a mouth with long pearly white fangs that showed even when it closed it's mouth.

The snake hissed and move it's head towards her's. Piper attempted once more to release herself from the snake's grip that it had on her, but it was no use. She did what she can only do—she screamed.

Piper's kaleidoscope eyes flew open as she breathed heavily and sat up. Her hand covered her face as she loudly sobbed and attempted to forget images of that horrible snake—but she couldn't.

As Piper continued to weep, her father, Tristian, ran into the room and took Piper in his arms. Tristan was handsome, even though his stature was 5'6, and he had chocolate skin, a dimpled chin, dark obsidian eyes that twinkled of both sadness and happiness, and long thin black hair tied into a braid. He wore over-washed light blue jeans, a white muscle shirt, and a pair of light brown moccasins.

"Don't cry little sagwu," he soothingly said. Piper attempted to calm herself down, but her attempt ended in failure and bawled out even harder.

"What is wrong?" Grandfather Tom said, his voice was heavy but full of knowledge.

"It's nothing, Dad. Go back to sleep," his son told him.

Grandfather Tom's dark wrinkled skin was wrinkled even more when he smiled. The old man was once handsome in his early day but looked the same, except for the wrinkles with his dark caramel skin, his beak-like nose from getting into fights in his early years, dark obsidian eyes but full of sadness, and his head was shaved except a single scalplock located at the bottom of his scalp. He wore a black and white cowichan wool sweaters that had designs of a buffalo on each breast and a X and diamond pattern on the arms and the bottom half, and deer-skinned pants with a cane in his hand.

"She was named Piper for a reason," his father replied.

"I know," Tristan said.

"Give me the child," Grandpa Tom entered the room and took a crying Piper into his arms. "You certainly have a loud voice for a 5-year-old," he commented. Piper weeped and weeped into her grandfather's arms. "What was your dream about little sagwu?" he patiently asked her.

"Snake," Piper said between her tears.

"Did the snake hiss? Did he scare you? Did he wrap its scaly body around your body little sagwu?" he asked her. Piper nodded and wiped her tears with the back of her hand.

"You had a loud cry there, reminds me of an animal. Ah, that reminds me of a story, care to hear it?" Grandpa Tom asked her.

"Dad, she should go to—" Tristian told his father but was cut off.

"Nonsense. I don't want you telling those foolish Greek stories," he told him. "Now," he turned his attention to his granddaughter, "the elders once told me a story that occurred a long time ago that involved the animals and the birds where the animals challenged the birds to a ball game. Of course, the mighty birds accepted the challenge and chose A-wo-ha-li, the eagle, as their captain. And the animals chose Yo-na, a strong cocky bear about his strength, as their leaders.

The two teams arranged the place and time on when to meet. On the animals team there was, of course, Yo-na, De-ga-si which was a terrapin with a hard shell, and A-wi, the deer that would outrun any other animal. The birds had A-wo-ha-li, the eagle, Ta-wo-di, and other strong birds.

The teams gathered with the birds on the tree branches as the animals on the plush green grass. As A-wo-ha-li sat on a branch, two little field mice approached him and asked if they can join their team. The eagle noticed that the two mice had four legs and not wings, and the mice explained that they asked to join the animals but those mean animals said no and made fun of them.

Out of pity, A-wo-ha-li decided find a way to take them. The eagle consulted with his teammates, and they eventually came up with a plan and decided to take groundhog's skin, that was used as a drum when they danced earlier, and they cut the skin into pieces the shape of wings and applied them on one of the field mice—that was how Tla-me-ha, the bat, came to be. There wasn't enough skin that can be used for the other field mice, so the birds stretched him like leather and soon enough Te-wa, the flying squirrel, came to be.

The game began and Tla-me-ha caught the ball and brought it up in the air and passed it to the other birds. The ball eventually fell to the floor and Yo-na and Tlu-tlu, a martin, competed to grab it, but Tlu-tlu was successful and passed the ball to Tla-me-ha. Tla-me-ha dodged A-wi and the ball hit the pole—Tla-me-ha won the game for the birds.

Yo-na and De-ga-si, who once bragged on how they are better and how they'll defeat the birds, didn't even get the chance to play since the ball was in the air most of the time. Tlu-tlu was given a beautiful gourd that he can nest on, and he still has today," Grandpa Tom concluded.

Piper was no longer crying, instead she was fascinated by the story.

"That reminds me of the 'Tortoise and the Hare' by Aesop," Tristian was the first to speak. Tom left out a huff and briefly gave his son an angered look.

"What is that? Does that explain how the bat and the flying squirrel came to be?" He challenged.

"But the—" Tristan said but was cut off again.

"Can you fall back to sleep?" Grandpa Tom asked Piper, once again cutting off his son.

Piper shook her head and said, "No." She began to suck her thumb and blinked back tears from the horrible snake.

From his cowichan, Grandpa Tom took out a dream catcher. The dream catcher was the shape of a circle with a web inside of the circle, in the middle 'o' the circle was a semi-precious yellow stone, and three strings hung with brown and yellow beads and three eagle's feather hung on the ends of the strings. The dream catcher was hung by a hook that was attached to the ceiling. Piper smiled.

"It should help you sleep," Grandpa Tom said, smiling.

"Thank you, A-gi-du-da," Piper thanked, she laid down in her bed.

"Goodnight little sagwu," he said.

"Goodnight," she said, slowly drifting off to sleep.

Grandpa Tom turned and saw his son leaning against the doorway, pouting. "I hate it when you do that," his son confessed.

Grandpa Tom laughed and said, "Are you envious that I put the girl to sleep and you didn't? Believe me, you two would've been up all night."

"That's a story that I haven't heard in a while," Tristan said, not leaning against the doorway anymore so his father can go through.

"Oh yes, 'The Ballgame' story is such a fascinating tale."

"I don't believe in it."

"It's a story. I hope to one day tell Piper about how the Earth was made," he brightly said.

"That's an interesting story, Dad."

Grandpa Tom frowned and said "You don't believe in them do you? Ever since Crystal came into your life, you don't believe in them any more."

Crystal was Piper's mom who left Piper and Tristan when Piper was barely a month old. "Dad, I find them interesting but I never had believed in them. And don't mention Crystal," he painfully said "Crystal."

"That is how the Cherokee way of like is disappearing," Grandpa Tom said with sadness.

"Just because I don't believe in them doesn't mean the Cherokee way is disappearing."

"The Elders believed it and no matter how many stories I tell you, it wouldn't matter but what does matter if you believe them," Grandpa Tom said and slowly walked back to his room.

"Dad," Tristan pleaded, holding up his hand.

"Go look at a strawberry," Grandpa Tom called out, slamming his door behind him.

Tristan sighed and rubbed his face with his hands. "I don't know why you left, Crystal," he said, frustrated. He looked around the small two bedroom cabin and could see why Crystal left him.

"No matter," he said, walking back to the couch, "you left me little Piper." With that, he threw blankets on him and drifted off to sleep.

Piper walked out of her elementary school and sat down on the plush green grass. The school was two acre large with large red painted story buildings, the inside of the school's floors was made of concrete, and fences surrounds the back of the school until the front where walls were constructed. She patiently waited for Grandpa Tom to come and pick her up since her dad was busy with his construction work.

She wore faded blue jeans, a white cotton shirt, her chocolate-brown hair was braided with a white feather, and a black and red and white beaded bag with a long leather strap.

"What's up, Indian Girl?" Charles hollered at her.

"I'm not Indian. I'm Native American, idiot," Piper scolded. Charles was short for a ten-year-old with the size of a dwarf, white skin, dark green eyes, and a curly mop of ginger hair. He was in Piper's 5th grade class, and he was probably the most annoying person that she has ever met.

Charles rolled his eyes and told her, "Whatever. Can you do your rain dance? Or are you gonna be forced away from Oklahoma?"

Piper clenched her hands from how mad she was, and she doesn't want her dad to come and get from work from the principal's office. "It's Hopi. How about you leave me alone?"

He shrugged and pouted. "Maybe I don't want to."

She angrily looked at Charles. He wore a stained yellow dress shirt with brown velvet pants that reminded Piper of the late 1800s. "Leave me alone," she told him.

"Or else what?" he stubbornly asked.

I'll slap you, she wanted to say but knew she would pay for it later. As if she was saved by the bell, Grandpa Tom pulled up with his old lime green Chevy pickup truck. She payed Charles one last glare and jogged her way to the car where she hopped in and slammed the door shut behind her.

"What did the car do to you? It's just a car," Grandpa Tom sympathetically said towards the car and patted the steering wheel. She cracked into a smile and laughed. The interior of the car was made of beat up old leather, black carpeting, and in the rear mirror hung a car freshener with the picture of a strawberry.

Grandpa Tom had faded blue jeans, like her, but he had on a black and white ribbon shirt with dark brown cowboy boots. "Nothing," she answered, "it's just that I had a bad day."

"Why?" he asked as he drove off to home.

"Charles bullies me because I'm half-Cherokee," Piper muttered, crossing her arms.

"I hope you didn't say anything mean to him."

"Yeah, but—"

"We must treat other with kind, even though they do not treat us like that."

"I know." She regretted telling her grandad because she should've known she was in a lecture.

Now that she was paying attention to detail, she smelled smoke. She scooted closer to her grandfather and instantly smelled the smoke odor to be stronger. "You shouldn't smoke," she reminded him.

Grandpa Tom briefly looked at Piper and smiled, "I can't help it," he said.

Later that night, Tristan tiredly walked in the house. He was tired from all the hammering and nailing he had to do and all he wanted to do was sleep like a baby. "Daddy!" Piper squealed. She got cleaned her hands with a towel from pottery making and ran to her father.

"Hey there," he greeted, quickly hugging his daughter. "What are you and gramps up to?"

"We're doing pottery," she cheerfully answered and returned to the table to accompany her grandfather.

"How was work today my boy?" Grandpa Tom asked, with clay on his hands. He grabbed a red towel and wiped his hands. Piper ran to her room and grabbed her painting supplies to paint the pottery that were done earlier.

"Work as usual, Dad," Tristan answered, walking to the table and pulled up a chair to sit on. Before him, he saw two already made vases that haven't been painted yet. He grabbed the largest vase and examined them. "She improved," he noticed.

His father approvingly smiled. Piper sat in a chair next to her grandfather but then got up to grab a bowl of water to wet the brushes. "Indeed," he agreed.

Tristan then smelled the strong smell of his father's breath. "Dad," he slowly asked, "what have you been up to today?"

"I've been pulling weeds," he told him son. It was true, to lower the cost of food, he used the large backyard as a garden where he planted squash, corn, tomatoes, cucumbers, apples, and other vegetables and fruits.

"Really?" Tristan said in disbelief. He didn't doubt what his father was doing but what was he doing during plucking the weeds.

"Yes."

"How come I smell smoke on you?" Grandpa Tom knew he was caught, and he knew that his son hated it when he smoked since he lost his mother due to breast cancer when he was a teen.

"I smoked a few cigarettes," Grandpa Tom confessed. Piper sensed the tension between her dad and grandad so she cheerfully smiled, showing that she hasn't sensed anything. She sat on her chair and dipped her paintbrush in the bowl and dipped the brush in red paint and began painting her vase.

"I don't like it when you smoke," Tristan sternly said.

"I know," he said in a hushed tone, grabbing a paint brush for himself.

"I especially don't like when she's around smelling it."

"I can't help it," Grandpa Tom said, dipping his brush in blue paint and started to paint his vase.

"At least try, Dad," he sincerely told his father.

"How about those acting gigs you've been trying out for?" The old man changed the subject.

Tristan smiled, knowing what his father was doing but would rather avoid getting into an argument. "I haven't been called for anything." He tried out for old western movies but producers told him that he was either too short or he didn't have that look they were looking for but would keep an opened mind when selecting who would play their roles.

"Don't give up," his father encouraged him. "I'll pray to Unetlanvhi, the Creator, to help you on your search."

"Okay, I'll do the same," Tristan said. He didn't believe the stories about Unetlanvhi, but because he didn't believe in him or in any other type of god.

"That's nice painting," Grandpa Tom told Piper, affectingly patted her back. Tristan smiled from the view he was seeing and thankful that he had his father in his life.

It was a Saturday and twelve-year-old Piper woke up to someone that was wheezing. Piper automatically got out of bed and ran to her grandad's room where she found him and her dad there.

"Grandpa," Piper said, kneeling before the old man and grabbed his rough wrinkled hand. Lately, Grandpa Tom hasn't been acting like himself but rather sluggish; he has been very weak and can't carry a gallon of milk anymore, and he lost a significant amount of weight. Piper tried to help him around the house and has even started taking care of the garden because he would get out of breath easily.

"It's okay little sagwu," Grandpa Tom said in a raspy voice.

"I must take you to the doctor," Tristan said. "Pipes, get the car and I'll help gramps," he told Piper who nodded and left.

After Piper started the car, she anxiously awaited for her grandfather and father to apprear at the doorway. Finally, they appeared and Piper did all she can so her grandfather can get inside the lime pickup truck.

Tristan took the driver's seat, and Piper sat inbetween him and Grandpa Tom. "You'll be okay," she assured her grandad on the way to the hospital, blinking back tears from her eyes.

Hours later and several test at the hospital, Piper and her dad sat next to Grandpa Tom who was hooked up to several machines and had an oxygen mask attached to his face. Dr. Rancic walked in the room with a sad expression on his oval shaped face.

The doctor looked to be in his early forties with a scruff on of black and gray on his chin, thinning black and gray hair with a small bald spot, a large arched nose, tan skin, light blue eyes that showed that he hasn't slept for days, and gray rimmed round glasses. "I have bad news," Dr. Rancic said, taking off his glasses.

Piper's eyes began to water again but was actually suprised that she had more tears since she cried a lot when Grandpa Tom was taken to the emergency room when he was coughing up blood in the car.

"I'm sorry to say this but Thomas McLean has lung cancer," Dr. Rancic said. Piper turned her kaleidoscope eyes to her grandfather who was quiet and laced both his hands together.

"How much time does he has?" Tristan asked, bowing his head down.

"It's in the late stages," Dr. Rancic answered.

"How much time?" he repeated, as he too blinked back tears. Grandpa Tom tapped his son's shoulder and pointed at a crying Piper.

"Maybe you should—" Dr. Rancic said before he was cut off by a yelling Piper.

"No! How much time does my grandad have?"

"Get the girl out of here," Dr. Rancic said and two nurses came in the room and tried to grab Piper, but Piper tried to hide behind her father.

"Tell the doctors I can stay," Piper pleaded between sobs to her father.

"Just wait outside for me," Tristan said, not looking at Piper in the eye.

"No!" Piper yelled as the two nurses carried them away as she tried to kick them away.

"How long does my father have?" Tristan finally spoke, grabbing his father's hand.

"It's in a late stage already and it's maybe six months that he has to live if he has the right treatments."

"And if he doesn't?"

"Maximum is 3 months," the doctor answered. "I'm terribly sorry." With that, the doctor left and heard a screaming Piper.

"I'll try to get you those treatments," Tristan said to Grandpa Tom, looking at their hands that were together.

"Just remember: I won't blame you with whatever happens," Grandpa Tom said, gently squeezing his son's hand. "Bring me the little sagwu," Grandpa Tom cheerfully said, but eyes were full of sadness.

The next two months were very hard on Tristan and Piper as they tried to keep it together. Tristan couldn't afford his father's treatments because they were out of his budget, and he simply couldn't afford it without taking multiple jobs. The more Grandpa Tom started to move slower and the harder time he had breathing, the more Tristan's heart ached and was filled with more sadness. Piper tried to keep both her grandfather's and father's spirits up, but she too had a hard time doing that since she was depressed about seeing her once story-telling grandfather to a grandfather who hardly talked anymore.

At dawn on a Saturday, the three of them sat around a small fire as they roasted marshmallows, and Tristan told stories about mythology. He talked about how the Earth was made, the gods, and a couple of adventures of Hercules, Theseus, Perseus, and other heroes. Grandpa Tom patiently waited until his son stopped talking nonsense.

"What do you think about it, Dad?" Tristan asked, pulling his stick with a marshmallow pierced through it from the fire and blowed it.

"It's a bunch of bull," Grandpa Tom muttered under his breath. Piper laughed.

"But there interesting stories," Tristan said in his defense.

"It's bull. The Titans were overthrown by gods? Chopping off whose head?" Grandpa Tom asked.

"There interesting stories."

"I'll tell you a true story on how the Creator created the world," Grandpa Tom started.

"Dad…"

"Don't dad me when I'm giving little sagwu," he pointed at Piper, "because I'm going to give a history lecture." Both Piper and Tristan laughed.

The next day followed and Grandpa Tom, Piper, and Tristan sat down around the table. Piper woke up extra early and made pancakes. Both Grandpa Tom and Tristan woke up with a smile on their faces as they gathered around the table.

"It's smells good," Grandpa Tom commented as Piper presented him his pancakes.

"Yeah, Pipes," her dad agreed.

Grandpa Tom grabbed his fork and knife and sliced a piece but didn't even had the chance to eat a bite since the fork slipped out of his fingers and started to wheeze.

"Gods," Tristan muttered. "Piper, start the car." Without another word, Piper grabbed his keys and went to start the car.

Minutes later, Tristan and Grandpa Tom made it to the car to Piper and drove off to the hospital.

They arrived to the hospital and Grandpa Tom was hooked up to machines like last time.

"Can you get me some water little sagwu?" Grandpa Tom croaked.

"I'll be back," she told her grandad, looking at him in the eye.

"You're a strong little one," Grandpa Tom commented.

"I got it from you." She smiled.

"Be yourself and keep true to yourself."

Piper smiled once more and slowly walked to the doorway. When she stood at the doorway, she paused and felt her heart sank. "I love you gramps," Piper meant it from the bottom of her life.

"I love you to little sagwu," Grandpa Tom said. Piper's heart leaped with joy since she ran back to him and kissed his forehead and jogged out of the room.

"She has a strong attitude as well as a strong voice," Grandpa Tom said, staring at the doorway.

"I know. You taught her to be strong," Tristan said.

"No, you taught her my son. You raised her on your own, and I was the one that guided you."

"Thanks, Pops."

Grandpa Tom reached for his son's hand and gave him a sad expression. "Continue telling her the stories of our people. I know you don't believe in them but at least believe them when you tell her the stories. Promise me."

"I promise," Tristan promised, kissing his father's hand.

"Keep her safe and keep her down to earth," Grandpa Tom said. "I'll be watching." He let go of his son's hand and put his hands together over his stomach, and he closed his eyes.

Moments later, the monitor beeped—Grandpa Thomas McLean was dead.

A year passed since Grandpa Tom died and Piper and her dad still mourned over the lost. Piper remembered how she saw her father cry for the first time in her life and how he was hugging and kissing the forehead of her now dead grandfather. She cried as well but because she saw her father break as well, and of course, her grandad.

She walked back to home because her dad was going to get out of work late today. It was a hot day and Piper felt like she was roasting under the sun.

Piper finally made it to the house and threw out a sigh of relief when she opened the door and slammed it shut. She expected to be alone, but she was surprised when she saw her dad sitting on the couch. Her dad had on white jeans, a black buttoned down shirt, and he no longer had his ponytail since he cut it off to a closely cropped style on the first day of her father's death.

"Hey, Dad," Piper suspiciously greeted her dad.

Tristan looked up from his newspaper and folded it and left it on his lap. "Hello," he quietly greeted.

"How come you're here?" she asked him.

"I have to tell you something." He held out his hand, and Piper nervously took his hand and sat in the couch with him.

"What's wrong?" she asked, panic in her voice.

"I made it," he told her. After her grandad died, her dad has been doing small roles and he recently tried out for King of Sparta.

"What?" she asked him, making sure she heard him right.

"I made it!" he exclaimed as he threw his hands in the air.

"That's great!" Piper threw her arms around him and gave him a big hug.

She had tears in her eyes but from joy. She was glad that her dad was going to have his big break into the movie industry.

Thanks grandpa, she thought.

She hated her life right now. She hated the world. She hated her dad. Recently, her dad has ignored her because he was busy doing his James Bond movie. He hired an assistant named Jane who was making her life miserable, thank you very much.

"I hate this," she muttered under her breath. Piper was very upset because Jane wanted to send her to a boarding school that was out of California.

She walked passed a BMW dealer and paused in front of it. A tall two story building made of glass with numerous BMWs of variety of colors. Recently, Piper discovered that she can easily convince someone because she has stolen a BMWs before and a Lamborghini.

Piper took a deep breath and cheerfully walked through the new shiny cars. A man approached her with yellow pit stains under his armpits, a cheap red tie, and black dress pants.

"Where are your parents?" the man asked with a sugar toned voice.

Piper resisted the urge to yell at him and tell him that she wasn't a five-year-old girl but was a fifteen-year-old girl. "Hi, I was just looking at the cherry red BMW," she sweetly said, patting the cherry red car next to her.

"You can't buy the car," he said.

"Can I have the keys to the car?" Piper asked in her most sweetest convincing voice.

"I'll be back with the keys," the man told her as he walked to the glass building to get the keys.

"Mr. McLean," Jane said as she entered his office.

"Yes, Jane," Tristan said, closing his script that he was memorizing for an up coming film about terrorists.

"I got a phone call from a BMW dealership that said that Piper stole a car again," she informed him.

Tristan suddenly sighed, not knowing why to do with his daughter. He tried spending time with her but that didn't seem enough. He tried talking to her about it, but she always managed to steer the topic to another direction. "I don't know what to do anymore," he muttered, shielding his face with his hands.

"She needs discipline," she suggested. Tristan looked up and saw that she wore a black pencil skirt, a white tucked in long-sleeved shirt, and a black blazer. Her long auburn hair was tied in a tight bun, and her dark rimmed glasses reminded Tristan of nerdish look.

"What do you suggest?" He placed his hands together. He didn't know what to do. He was running out of options. He started to question if he was doing something wrong that was affecting Piper, but he couldn't pinpoint what he was doing wrong.

"There's a school called Wilderness School," she said as she she handed him a dark green brochure with a picture of a school bus in the middle. Tristan hadn't bother to look at it and instead placed his face down on his desk.

"What's the school about?"

"It teaches troubled kids to be well-behaved and disciplined," she explained.

"I don't know what to do," he confessed to her.

"She needs to have a clear mind, and she need this," Jane urged on.

"You think that would happen?" he asked her, interested.

"Yes."

"If you had a daughter that was behaving like mine, would you do this?"

"Absolutely."

"Okay. Jane, call the school and tell Piper about it," Tristan said.

"Okay, Sir." Jane nodded and left.

Tristan breathed out a sigh of relief. He just hoped that the school will help change Piper's attitude.

He loves Piper very much, and he's willing to do anything for her. He understood that Piper needed more attention, and he has tried with that, and it didn't seem like that was enough; the reason being because his schedule was always busy.

Once The King of Sparta became a huge hit, he tried keeping Piper away from the spotlight because he didn't want her to become a spoiled brat who whined and complained all day. He wanted Piper to remain who she was, not be a spoiled brat.

Keep her safe and keep her down to earth, he remembered his father's words. That was exactly what Tristan McLean was doing. After all, a father's love is unconditional.

Okay, sagwu means one. "Bring me little sagwu." Bring me the little one. The Ballgame is Cherokee story I read about. For the Cherokee, strawberries remind them not to argue and good luck. A-gi-du-da is grandpa in Cherokee.