First things first...

You don't mess with Winchesters and Harvilles. You just don't. You hear them coming, you run like hell in the opposite direction. You don't stop running 'til you're dead.

Sequel to The Family Business – The Fallen. It isn't entirely necessary that you have read that. This fic follows the lives of the children of Dean/Cas, Sam/Gabriel and Jo/OMC. Anything you need to know from The Fallen will be explained if need be, though for the most part, there isn't much that'll need to be explain.

Oh, yeah. We're completely ignoring the events of season 6 and beyond.


Chapter One: Recap

Dean often thought that his family was much like the Brady Bunch, though he never voices that thought, especially to Sam because he still hadn't lived down the whole 'Dr. Sexy' thing. But really, they had this huge, ridiculous family and it was, well, ridiculous.

Of course, the Brady's probably didn't teach their kids to hunt demons and monsters. Well, maybe they had, but the chances were slim.

The Winchesters (and Harvilles) taught their kids to be hunters. They didn't raise them quite like John had raised Sam and Dean, because they wanted their lives to at least be somewhat normal, but they taught them to recognize the real evil in the world. Knowing the Winchester track record, they were going to need it one day.

Seven year old Rob (he insisted by age five that he no longer be called Robbie) was never happy when it came to the hunting lessons, whether they be practical or just knowledge based. Sam said maybe he was just too young (though he trained Jack, who was a year younger) or maybe he just didn't believe that it was all real, which was entirely possible, given that the kids had yet to ever see one of the monsters they were taught about.

Dean and Cas' second son, Mitchell, had been well enough into their lessons, and when he turned six, Dean thought, perhaps it was the time to teach him how to work on the Impala (he'd done the same with Rob, but he'd shown no interest). Mitchell was grossed out the second he got a little oil on him and rushed into the house to wash up.

"Can I help, Daddy?" Mary, his youngest, and only daughter, asked, staring up at him. Her hands where shoved in the pockets of her paint covered overalls and her eyes were wide.

"Sure kiddo," he smiled, lifting the four year old off the ground and carried her over to the car, giving her the basics, even knowing that she wouldn't remember the majority of them.

The first time Mary brought a boy home, Dean was sitting in the living room, cleaning a shotgun; not because the gun particularly needed cleaning (though, it did), nor because the boy seemed particularly threatening (because he five foot nothing and Dean had met Chihuahuas more terrifying), but simply because he thought it would be funny.

She didn't bring the boy around again.

At age eighteen, Rob left home to go to college in New York. Dean swore it was like déjà vu all over again because Rob swore he was never coming back to the madhouse he'd once called home.

"It'll be fine, Dean," Sam assured him. "He'll be back. He's a Winchester. He can't stay gone."

"Yeah," Dean agreed absently. That was what he was afraid of.

When Mitchell turned eighteen, Dean bought him a new car. Well, it wasn't a new car, but it was like new, and better than the car Sam had given Jack for his birthday a month before. The two boys then took off hunting together. Mary had begged to go with them.

"When you're older," Dean replied. He took her on a hunt the week after, but still refused to let her out on her own.

It wasn't long before Mitchell called to inform him that the car had been blown up by a shapeshifter they'd been hunting. From then on out, the cousins travelled together in Jack's chick car.

When Mary finally turned 18, the same age that Mitchell and Jack had been allowed to leave, Dean told her no. She wasn't allowed to go out and carry on her family's legacy.

That night, the whole family had gathered to celebrate. Jack and Mitchell had returned from their hunt, and even Chuck and Becky had shown up for a while. Only one was missing.

She received a whole assortment of gifts that she would probably never use, and a few things she probably would.

"Don't forget the one from us," Cas said, handing her a large box from him and Dean. Inside was a brand new, shiny shotgun and a pair of keys. Her eyes widened in delight as she lifted the pair out of the box.

"The keys to the Impala?" Mitchell exclaimed. "How come she gets the Impala?"

"Because you would have blown her up."

"Thank you daddy!" Mary squealed, hugging both her fathers.

Three days later, after several rounds of hugs, and even more warning to be careful, and not hurt the car in any way, she took off on her own to carry out the family name.

Sam's daughter, Jessica, was already gone by the time she turned 18, but not to go off hunting, as her brother and cousins had done, but to go to school, as her eldest cousin had. She kept in touch, a little, holding back the hostility she felt, only because she could not bear to break her family's heart, as Rob had done four years before.

And just like that, the next generation of Winchesters were gone. All that remained were Alice and Ellen Harville, the youngest of the bunch.

Of course, the kids all returned, now and again. They had to. The family was all too close knit for them to just leave and never return.

The bulk of our story from here on out will focus on Mary Winchester, the girl who was just like her fathers in every possible way. The girl who had grown up wanting to be nothing but a hunter; not just any hunter, but the best, the kind that would make her father proud. The girl who'd never had a real boyfriend, partially because he father scared them all away, partially because she had long ago fallen for a man who couldn't exist.