Hey there! Thanks for taking the time to read this story. I appreciate it more than you will ever know. Please, feel free to drop me a review or message and let me know what you think. I welcome the comments, the criticism.

This story is a little different. I'm trying my best to make it a 3-shot, which, if you've read any of my other stories, you'll find I have a problem with condensing. My other stories are all 10-plus chapters. I've got like 3 other stories in the works right now, so if you're a follower of one of those, I'm sorry! I'm trying my best to generate some more chapters for you, but I just keep hitting a wall. Plus, I'm in college, x-ray school, and finals are here and I'm just a terrible person. But I am doing my best to finish those up! Sometimes it helps if I take a break, and this little story just popped into my head, in class yesterday, actually.

I'm using characters from my favorite shows, Supernatural and Charmed, but in this story, they're not magical. This is an AU. Sam and Dean are not hunters, Melinda and the Halliwells are not witches. The first couple of sections don't really give much information into who is speaking, but gives some background. Once you find out who is narrating, hopefully it will make sense. I hope you enjoy, and happy reading!

**Nothing from Charmed or Supernatural belongs to me.**

He'd been gone for a month.

Well, "gone" wasn't exactly the right word. "Gone" usually meant something horrible, something she never wanted to think about. He had moved out a month ago.

It had been for the best. All they could do these days was fight. The kids had stopped laughing, started quietly tiptoeing around, always sure to pick up after themselves, doing everything they could to not make anything worse. It absolutely broke her heart to see her babies that way, so the one thing in weeks they had finally agreed on was that he should go. It had been for the best, and things were much better now.

At least, that's what she kept telling herself.

If she was to admit the truth, though… The truth was, she missed him. It was so hard without him. She hadn't slept well in a month. Neither had the kids. Every night, one of them would have a nightmare and need to come and sleep with Mommy. She didn't mind, because it didn't seem quite so lonely with a little someone there. The truth was, they all felt better when Daddy was there. He was the one to check and make sure there were no monsters under the bed, none hiding in the closet. Without him, fear was running rampant, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

She wanted to call him. She wanted to hear his voice, his gruff, gravelly tone. She wanted to see him, that face that was almost too pretty for a man, his confident, bow-legged walk. She wanted his big, strong arms around her, holding her tightly, stroking her hair, telling her everything would be all right. More than anything, she wanted him to do like he used to, shut her up by crushing his lips to hers.

But she had two very important reasons not to do that. There were two little girls who needed her, who were depending on her to do what was best for them. It wasn't—it couldn't be about what she wanted; she had to do what was best for her children.

But wouldn't having their parents together be the best thing?

He'd actually slept last night.

Sure, it had only been for two hours, but that was the longest stretch of sleep he'd had since he left. Dear God, he hated that damn saying. He hadn't left. He hadn't walked out on his family. He could never do that. Just walk away from his sweet little girls, his beautiful wife?

God, he missed her. He hated waking up every morning without her. Well, if he was entirely honest, "waking up" usually meant after a half-hour, maybe an hour doze. Didn't matter. She still wasn't there.

The apartment he'd rented was an absolute shit hole. He hated it. But it had a bed, a shower, a roof that didn't leak—at least, he thought it didn't leak. There hadn't been a real good rainstorm yet, so he hadn't yet been able to test out that theory. He had all he needed to survive.

Wrong.

He didn't have her. Or their daughters. And God, how his heart ached when he thought of those two incredible human beings. Molly, the 7-year-old with her mother's blonde hair in curls around her face and her father's green eyes. And Hailey, the sweet 3-year-old with hair just a shade darker, more like her father's. The perfect mixture of his green eyes and her mother's blue, Hailey's eyes were a beautiful turquoise. Both of his girls absolutely adored their daddy, a feeling he reciprocated whole-heartedly, and being away from them, and their mother, broke his heart.

Dean closed his eyes, leaning up against the window, sipping the coffee in his hand. The coffee which tasted like crap. Nearly ten years ago, he made the mistake of accepting a cup of coffee from a pretty blonde, and now … Now, he hated even the damn taste of coffee, unless Melinda had fixed it for him. He ran a hand through his hair, watching as the sun rose up into the sky. He thought of the little house on Rosewood Drive, where he was almost certain a little green-eyed girl would have her nose pressed against the glass of the window beside her bed, watching the sun come up.

Molly had night terrors when she was younger, horrible dreams that she would wake up from, screaming blood-curdling screams. The dreams had started when she was two, when she was too young to articulate what exactly happened. She would shake, just tremble all over until her mommy or daddy would come, take her in their arms and whisper soothing words. It didn't happen every night, just once in a while, which gave way to once a month, which eventually turned to once a week. It got so bad that for a while, Molly would stay up all night and sleep all day, because nothing bad could get her in the light. That was horrible, a miserable existence where Dean had to hold Molly in one arm and Melinda in the other, while both of them cried.

One night when Molly was nearly 4, shortly after Melinda had told Dean she was pregnant again, Molly woke up not ten minutes after she'd gone to sleep. She was screaming, crying hysterically, and Dean had stumbled in her room, his heart in his throat like it always was when he heard his little girl screaming. He'd gathered her into his arms, but he couldn't take her back to bed with him, not with Mel pregnant. So he'd sat in the rocking chair, slowly rocking back and forth, rubbing a hand up and down Molly's back until she drifted off. Every time he tried to stop, tried to put her back to bed, she'd start to tremble. So he stayed up all night, holding her, singing softly whatever song came to mind, rubbing her back, just letting her know she wasn't alone. He'd been in the chair, watching out the window as the sun came up. And he'd looked down to his chest to see little green eyes watching out the window, as well. From that day on, Molly had slept soundly, almost always waking up to watch the sun rise, then falling back to sleep.

Dean turned from the window, pressing a hand over the ache in his chest. He took a shower, the water deciding to run frigid four minutes in. Used to be, times like that he'd wished he'd listened when his father had tried to train him and his brother into the military three-minute showers. Now, though, he accepted it, feeling as though maybe a cold shower was some kind of punishment, like his penance for screwing up his life so badly.

He wasn't entirely sure what exactly happened, what led to his family being where they were right then. If he had to guess, he figured it was his fault. Any bad thing that had happened, whether it be his mother's death, Sam leaving, his father's death… Somehow, it could be attributed to Dean's fault. Even if there was no possible way it was Dean's fault, Dean would find some way to beat himself up over it.

He toweled off his hair, walking into the bedroom/living room/kitchen of his apartment and slid a beat-up pair of jeans on. He walked to the window again, thinking back to the little house, wondering what was going on over there.

Melinda opened her eyes as her alarm went off. She'd been awake for a while, just waiting for the buzz, which would give her a reason to be awake. She slid out of bed carefully, so as not to wake Hailey up. Hailey had come tiptoeing in just after three, blue eyes wide, talking about her "bad dweam." Hailey couldn't pronounce her R's correctly, something that made Melinda smile. She had just nodded, scooting over in the bed, letting Hailey climb in. She let out a soft sigh, and was asleep before Melinda could wrap an arm around her. Melinda just smiled, stroking the blonde hair identical to Dean's, savoring the moment with her little girl.

Melinda walked down the hallway to Molly's room, glancing in to see her curled around her pillow, clutching it in her arms, her little head facing the window. Melinda smiled, knowing Molly had watched the sun come up, then drifted off back to sleep. Melinda walked to the kitchen, starting up the coffeepot, and once it had brewed, walked her mug over to the window. She did this sometimes, when she was by herself, savoring those few moments of solitude. She'd drink her coffee and look out the window, letting her mind drift.

As it always did, her mind wandered to Dean. What was he doing right then? She knew where he was, because he'd called his brother, the ex-Marine turned CIA something or other, with his coordinates. That was something their father used to do, and Dean still did it to Sam. Sam had called Melinda, letting her know Dean's location, telling her that he'd watch over him, make sure he was all right, and she heard the unspoken statement that he was doing the same for her and the girls. He'd spoken softly, telling her that he hoped they could work everything out, because he loved her and the girls.

That was always something that kind of took Melinda back. Sam was huge, standing a good three inches taller than Dean's six-foot-one frame. He was solid muscle, not an ounce of fat on him and, if Melinda was being completely honest, deadly. Sam had joined the Marines when he was 18, trying to live up to John Winchester's expectations. After ten years, he was honorably discharged, moving back home to take care of his father. He took college classes, seemingly without a break, graduating in just 3 years. Dean would just shake his head. He had dropped out of high school first chance he got. "Sam was the brains of the operation" was something he liked to tell everyone. Sam got the brains, Dean got the looks. Melinda and Dean had gotten married the year before Sam came home, with Sam getting special permission to be there and stand beside Dean on that day. They moved to Kansas to be close after John had a heart attack, the reason Sam moved back, as well. Molly was born just as Sam started college. When Sam graduated, John had been there, smiling widely and holding a 2-year-old Molly in his arms. John had died six months later, the liver cancer just too far gone for them to do anything about it.

Soon after John's death, Sam told Dean that he'd gotten offered a job with the CIA. He couldn't elaborate any more than that, and he was taking it. He never said it, but Melinda knew it was because he couldn't stand being somewhere John had been for so long, but wasn't anymore. Sam and John had always had a rocky relationship, but it had improved once Sam joined the Marines. Sam still carried a ton of regret, and getting away was the only way he could deal with it. He still dropped by every now and then, sent the girls presents on their birthdays. They were crazy about their Uncle Sammy, calling him that because Dean did.

Once Sam left, Dean had no reason to be in Kansas anymore. He talked to Melinda, and they packed up and moved back to San Francisco, where her family was. Molly's night terrors had started after the move, after John's death. Hailey was born almost two years later, and four years later… Here they were.

Melinda shook her head, turning back from the window, putting her empty coffee cup in the sink. She ran her hands through her hair, looking over at the clock. She walked back down the hall, poking her head in Molly's room. She walked over, sitting on the edge of the bed, running a hand over Molly's curls.

"Sweetheart? Hey, Mol. Wake up, baby."

Molly made a noise so reminiscent of Dean that Melinda's hand faltered. Melinda swallowed, then went back to rubbing Molly's back.

"Wake up, little one. You've got a big day ahead of you."
"Do I have to go to school?"

Melinda smiled.

"Yes. But it's Friday. Do you remember what's happening on Friday?"

Molly sat up, shaking her hair out of her eyes.

"Daddy's coming!"

Melinda smiled and nodded. Molly threw her arms around her mother, squeezing tightly. Melinda held a hand on Molly's golden curls, then pushed her back.

"So… Let's get up, go wash your face and I'll get your sister up, then we'll eat breakfast."

Molly nodded, grinning widely before taking off and running down the hall to the bathroom. Melinda sighed as the smile fell from her face. Molly was so excited, because she was finally getting to see Dean, the first time in a month. It wasn't fair, and it nearly broke Melinda's heart. She tried to push those feelings down and walked down to her bedroom. She laughed when she got to the door, seeing Hailey stretched out sideways, covers kicked off, her Beauty and the Beast nightgown all skewed. Melinda walked over to the bed, sitting down and moving Hailey's hair out of her face.

"Baby girl. Good morning. Hailey."

Hailey made a quiet moan and Melinda laughed. Her 3-year-old was a big fan of sleeping. Not so much of waking up, though. Melinda ran a hand over Hailey's cheek.

"Wake up, gorgeous."
"No, Mama."

Melinda smiled and scooped Hailey into her arms. She carried her into the kitchen, where Molly was sitting at the table with a huge grin on her face. Melinda laughed, setting Hailey in the chair beside Molly, feeling a tug at her heart when Hailey reached over to link hands with her sister. Melinda fixed breakfast, and by the time the food was ready, Hailey was coming around. She held her sippy cup of chocolate milk in both hands, bright blue eyes fixed on her mother as Melinda set a plate in front of her. Melinda pressed a kiss to the top of Hailey's head, before moving to do the same to Molly. Molly said grace, and they ate. Melinda stood back, nursing another cup of coffee. She didn't eat much these days.

Dean locked the car and stuck the keys in his pocket. He leaned up against it for a minute, staring at the little house. They were inside, all his girls. They were probably finishing up breakfast, and Melinda was probably helping the girls to get dressed. Well, if Hailey was up by now. He smiled at that, taking a deep breath as he made his way down the sidewalk, up the front steps and onto the porch. He hung his head, taking another breath, then raising his fist to knock on the door. He heard little feet running to the door, and a second later, it was thrown open.

"Daddy!"

He caught Molly as she launched herself into his arms, blinking back tears.

"Hey, baby girl."
"Daddy, I missed you so much."

He squeezed his eyes shut as he knelt down, running a hand over her curls. He cleared his throat.

"I missed you too, Mol."

He swallowed, trying to make the shakiness of his voice go away. He opened his eyes, and felt his heart drop to his knees. Melinda stood there in her long bathrobe, Hailey in her arms. The little girl was still clutching her sippy cup, resting her head on her mother's shoulder. Dean met Melinda's eyes, seeing the emotions there before she smiled. She turned her head to listen to Hailey's whisper, then smiled and nodded.

"Go ahead, baby."

She knelt down too, and Hailey unfolded herself from Melinda, leaving the cup with her mother before she walked to Dean. He smiled, pressing a kiss to Molly's cheek and patting her back. Molly stepped back and Dean enveloped Hailey in his arms. She put her little nose in his neck, the way she'd done since she was born and he closed his eyes again. He held a hand on her hair, letting out a shaky breath. He opened his eyes to meet Melinda's, seeing the pain and tears before she looked away. She lifted a hand to brush a tear away, and Dean felt another piece of his heart break. Dean pressed a kiss to Hailey's forehead before moving back and smiling for her.

"Good morning, Hailes."
"Morning, Daddy."

He smiled, tapping a finger on her nose. She scrunched it up, making him let out a quiet laugh before Molly moved back, sitting on his knee and resting her head against his shoulder. Hailey moved to his other side, and he wrapped an arm around both of them. Melinda turned around as he watched her, and after a moment, she turned back.

"Okay, you two. We need to get dressed if we're going to be on time."

Dean kissed both his girls, patting their backs and they went down the hall, Hailey running on her tiptoes to keep up with her sister. Dean hung his head, letting out a long, shaky breath. He stood up, wincing as his knees protested. He met Melinda's eyes, stopping when he saw the smile on her face. He couldn't help the small smile that crossed his face.

"You heard that?"
"Sure did, grandpa."

He let out a laugh, sliding his hands in his pockets. That was all he could do to keep from reaching out and pulling her to him, holding her the way they both needed him to. Melinda bit her lip, then sighed.

"Do you want some coffee?"

Dean looked up, meeting her eyes.

"I'd love some."

They were sitting at the table, Melinda with her third cup of coffee, Dean savoring every sip of his. Melinda cleared her throat.

"So tonight."

Dean nodded, looking over to her.

"I'm going to Mama's, and I'll stay there until Sunday."
"You know you don't have to, right?"

She met his eyes, and he sighed.

"You don't have to go just because I'll be here, Mel. I'll sleep on the couch. Or if you want, I'll leave after they fall asleep and I'll come back before the sun comes up."

Melinda closed her eyes, fighting back the tears with everything she had in her.

"Dean, this … "

She shook her head, covering her face with her hands. He actually reached across the table for her, and she saw it, but she shook her head again. After a moment, she lowered her hands.

"They'll be in here in a minute."
"Mel… After I take them to school, can we just talk? I've got the day off."

She made the mistake of looking at him, wanting so badly to get lost in those green eyes. She shut hers, looking down again. Dean swallowed, his coffee forgotten beside him.

"We … we could have lunch or something."

No. Everything in her was screaming that she needed to say no. All they did was fight. Their children were suffering because they couldn't get their shit together. She needed to stay as far away from him as she could until they figured this out. But … How could they figure it out if they never talked? No. No, she just needed to refuse him.

"Lunch sounds great."

Dean blinked, like he wasn't expecting her to agree with him. A smile crossed his face and he nodded.

"Do you want me to pick you up or…?"
"I'll just meet you somewhere."

Dean nodded, the smile back on his face.

"Okay."

Melinda smiled back.

"Okay."

She looked down at her coffee as a blush crossed her cheeks. Dean saw it, a genuine smile crossing his face. He finished up his coffee as Hailey came walking to the kitchen, carrying shoes in her little hands, a pout on her face. Dean bit his lip and Melinda gave him a confused look until she turned around.

"What's the matter, babe?"
"Mommy, I can't tie my shoes. The knot is too tight."
"Oh. Well, come over—"
"Mama! I need your help with my hair!"

Melinda looked where Molly's voice had just rang out, then let out a sigh. She turned to Hailey with a sad smile, but Dean spoke up.

"Come here, Hailes. I'll help you with your shoes."

He looked to Melinda as she looked at him.

"I can handle this. You go help Molly."

She nodded, giving him a grateful smile. He tried to ignore the feelings that rushed up, as Hailey walked over to him.

"Let's see, squirt."

He picked her up, setting her on the table in front of him, and she handed him her shoes. After a moment of working, Dean muttered.

"Damn, these knots are tight."
"Mommy says you're not supposed to say 'damn.'"

Dean bit his cheek to keep from smiling.

"Mommy's right. But I'm a grown-up, and a daddy, and it's okay if daddies say it. It's not okay for little blonde three-year-olds to say. Or seven-year-olds, so don't even go there."

Hailey grinned at him, and Dean couldn't help but smile back. He finally got her shoes untied, surprisingly without any more cursing, because Hailey was watching him like a little hawk. He slipped the shoes on and tied them, kissing her forehead before setting her back on the floor. She ran out of the kitchen, down the hall to the bathroom, where Melinda could fix her hair. Molly came back to the kitchen, where Dean was putting his mug in the sink. He turned around and smiled.

"Well, howdy there, gorgeous."

Molly grinned. She had her backpack on, lunchbox in her hand.

"So you're picking me up from school, right?"

Dean smiled, nodding.

"And you're staying with us this weekend?"

Dean nodded again.

"The whole weekend, right, Daddy?"
"Yes, babe. The whole weekend."

Molly grinned, and Hailey came running back in.

"Ready!"

Dean grinned at her pronunciation of "weady." He walked over, holding out his hands, which each of them laid their hands in. He looked over at Melinda, who was smiling as she walked from the bathroom, her arms crossed over her chest. Molly grinned at her.

"Bye, Mama."
"Have a good day."

Hailey looked up and scrunched up her nose as she grinned.

"Bye, Mommy."
"You be good, you hear me?"

Hailey nodded, and Dean smiled. Their littlest daughter was quite the little hell-raiser. He considered it payback, of sorts. Dean and Melinda's eyes met, and after a second, she smiled.

"I'll call you?"

He nodded, and followed as Molly pulled him out the door. When they were gone, Melinda let out a sigh. She walked to the window, smiling as she watched Dean put Hailey in her car seat. It always struck her as funny, the classic car, the man driving it, and the pink booster seat in the back. They drove away and she let out another sigh, walking down the hall to the bathroom, set to soak in a long, hot bath.