A/N: This will not be a long story, nor will it be a happy story. You've been warned. That being said, it only has one chapter of smut. The rating is mostly for language and violence, but the smut is for sure M rated. Anyone on this site knows that reviews really do motivate so please give me your input, whether it's good or bad, but please let any bad reviews be constructive criticism. This story will bounce from place to place and time to time. I'll do my best to make it clear when things are taking place. Thank you for reading!

1 Year Ago

He was never a heavy sleeper. Ever since childhood, even the slightest noise or flash of light would wake him so it wasn't anything new when a shift on his mattress caused his lips to curl up in the corner. He kept his eyes closed as the light movement traveled closer to him. He found himself wondering if he should write a complaint letter to the company who made the bed, telling them that he could indeed feel movement from the other side of the bed, despite the commercial's promises of complete stillness through the night. It took mere seconds for the mattress to cease being his problem as he felt hands grip onto his shoulders as bony knees dug into his back. He opened hie eyes, smiling into his pillow, smelling the bubblegum scented breath blowing in his face.

"Daddy are you awake?" He closed his eyes again. He felt wet lips graze his temple. "Daddy it's Christmas Eve." He bit the inside of his lip, still faking sleep. "Daddy." She raised her voice and gently shook his shoulders, not even making him budge though she tried her hardest. He felt her knees digging into his back as she crawled over him, sitting on the pillows above his head. She laid down with her head next to his, facing him upside down. "Daddy." She whispered. She leaned in and kissed his nose, making him smile. "Wake up." She said, smiling back. He opened his eyes and stared at her.

Her skin was pale and her green eyes matched his perfectly. Everything on her did, in fact. Though her hair was light, he knew with age it would darken, just as his had, and her lips were as full as his were. Sometimes he wondered what parts of her she got from her mother, as every feature on her face bound her to him.

"Hi Daddy."

"Hi baby." He leaned forward and kissed her like she'd kissed him. "What do you want for breakfast?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know?" She shook her head. "You want broccoli?" Her face scrunched up and she shook her head. "Okay, no broccoli... What about spaghetti?"

"For breakfast?"

"Yeah, why not?"

"Not for breakfast." He frowned and looked down.

"Is it snowing outside?" She nodded. "How about we have snowballs for breakfast?" She frowned again, confused.

"Snow's cold, Daddy." He smiled.

"Well I happen to know a way to make it hot. What do you say?" She nodded and he kissed her again before sitting up and grabbing her, making her scream out and laugh as he picked her up upside down by her waist, facing her forward as he carried her through the hall and down the stairs. She laughed the whole way and he dumped her on the couch next to an open coloring book and a messy pile of crayons. "Make me something pretty for the fridge. I'm gonna make hot snow." She smiled again and began turning the pages in the book to find a picture she could work on.

They lived in a small cabin in the middle of the woods. It wasn't anything spectacular, but it was theirs, and nobody bothered them. There was no rent to be paid and they each had their own small bedroom, hers with an altered window that included a plexi-glass tube full of salt lining it. The walls were lined with framed paintings he had done- ancient symbols he had attempted to make look artsy so he'd have an excuse to plaster his home with them should anyone not in the know come over. He had given up motel heaters for a wood burning stove and a diet of 100% fast food for the kind of healthy homecooked meals he would've scoffed at before all of this. The only thing that remained a constant from his old life was the black Impala in the makeshift driveway. That, too, had been altered, with a carseat in the back instead of a duffel bag full of weapons. A part of him missed traveling the world, doing what he used to do, but it took one look at his daughter and he was fine. He found it impossible to do anything without looking at her every couple minutes. From the time he mixed the pancake batter to the moment he took the puffed up fried balls of dough out of the weird cast iron pan he'd gotten at some overpriced home goods store, he'd watched her halfway color three different pictures. He grabbed a small see-thru pink plate with glitter melted inside the glass down from the cabinet and shook powdered sugar all over it before rolling the dough balls in powdered sugar and arranging them in a small pile on the plate. Once he finished that, he took two small bowls down. Pouring strawberry jelly into one and maple syrup in the other, he popped them in the microwave for ten seconds and put them next to her plate. "It's ready." He said. She tossed her book aside and ran to the table, a huge smile plastered on her face.

"Snowballs!" She squealed, jumping onto her booster seat and grabbing one. she dipped it in the jelly and began eating. "It's hot!"

"Too hot?" He asked. She shook her head and took another bite.

"You made hot snow, Daddy, just like you said." He smiled and began cleaning up after himself.

"When you're done, we gotta get you dressed. Sammy's coming over to spend the night for Christmas." She gasped and a huge smile crept onto her face. Dean smiled back. Though he was dead to the world, Sam and Cas still knew the truth, and they popped in and called from time to time either to have a slice of quiet normalcy, or to ask for Dean's expertise, which he gladly gave. He'd turned into more of a behind-the-desk Bobby figure, but couldn't give it all up completely.

"Is Cas coming too?" Dean smiled.

"Maybe, I don't know. He might be busy."

"Okay. I made him a present, too."

"Did you?" She nodded. He smiled and sat down on the opposite side of the table. His eyes fell on the scar on her forearm and he forced himself to look away, rather than falling into one of his notorious trances, thinking about the past.

"Done!" He smiled at the mess on her face and got back up to walk to the sink. He wet a rag and she ran over to him so he could clean her off. It was a routine they were both all too familiar knelt down and erased all the remnants of her breakfast off of her face.

"Alright. You're clean. Go, my child. Be free." She smiled and ran off to her room, leaving him to pick the dishes up off the table.