Dean Winchester was many things, as he'd discovered over the course of fifteen years.

He was, first and foremost, a hunter. In fact, he was the hunter. Somehow, hunting had been brought to the spotlight in the public's eyes, dragging him unwillingly to the forefront. But instead of panic, excitement and intrigue spread through the world. Monster hunting became a global pastime, quickly brought under control by governments who contacted Dean for advice. (The President of the United States, his Board of Supernatural Beings officer, and the U.N. official all had him on speed dial.) If Sam was still alive, he'd be doing backflips.

He was Dad. And Daddy, and Papa, and Pops, and when Hector was feeling cheeky and wanted to get grounded, Dinosaur Dad, Fossil or "This is my father, the last of the dinosaurs." to which Dean would reply "This is my son, an endangered species." Hector was grounded a lot.

He was one hell of a soccer mom, one that put the neighbors to shame. Ivette was on her school's roller derby team, Tim was in football and track, Hector was in wrestling and weightlifting, and all three were on the same lacrosse team. Other parent praised him as one brave soul for being a single dad, raising children who played six collective sports, and somehow getting them all to practice on time. It was stressful, and Ellen chewed him out nearly every day, but it was worth it to head his kids dubbed The Winchester Devils by their opponents. No one cheered louder than him at the kids's games.

He was that overprotective father who leveled a shotgun at his daughter's first boyfriend, doused him in holy water, and nicked his arm when they'd met. It turned out that the kid wasn't a demon, just a pansy who nearly pissed himself because Dean fucking Winchester had answered the door.

He'd been sober for almost thirteen years now. The kids had even thrown him a party a few months ago.

Timothy was taller than all of them, which irked Hector and Dean to no end. Dean mostly because Tim reminded him of Sam, and if he didn't know any better, he'd think that he was Sam's kid.

He was the father of three honor students who were all in advanced placement with 4.1 GPAs. The counselor had said it was impossible. The kids had said "Screw that, we're Winchesters."

He still had no idea how he'd gotten them past the toddler years, or even into the teen years, for that matter. (Charlie, Jo and Ellen had been invaluable help in child-proofing and babysitting. Once all three were walking, it had been worse than hell, and he'd actually been there.)

He was a pretty damn good scrapbooker, if he could say so himself, and if the photo albums of fifteen-plus years were anything to go by.

He was getting grey hair, a fact that irritated him more than not having pie in the fridge.

All of the kids had inherited his love for pie. (He just hoped they didn't inherit being alcoholics too.)

And right then, he was the proudest he'd ever been in his life, because Hector was graduating from high school with a college degree as a valedictorian.

Hector Marcos Davilla-Winchester was, in a word, a prodigy. When he entered Freshman year in high school, he was accepted into St. John's university and split his time between schools. He was graduating from both with honors and degrees in history and psychology. Hector knew that he'd never been prouder when he got a phone call from his father saying "I am so proud of you, and your uncle would be too." Hector was the first in his family to graduate from college ever since his great-grandfather, and he hoped that he wouldn't be the last.

It was the proudest day in a long time for the Winchester family.

It also became the worst when Dean and Hector got calls from the police saying that Ivette had been kidnapped from school.

.

Hector came screeching around the corner in his father's car and arrived faster than the police. He jumped out without even parking properly just as his father and his uncle, Cas, appeared out of thin air. "Dad!" He barked, sprinting from the parking lot towards his father.

He and Cas wheeled around as Hector came to a stop. "What's happening?" Dean demanded with steel in his eyes. When he was like this, Hector knew that he wasn't Dean's son anymore; he was a soldier.

"I don't know. I just got here."

"Damn it. Come on!" They ran through the wailing sirens (ah, that would be the police) and shoved their way through the barricades and into where the students had been evacuated. "Tim!" He shouted, scanning the terrified mass of hormones for his middle child. "Timothy, it's Dad! Tim!"

"Mr. Winchester!" A hand waved, and from the crowd a tiny Freshman girl was produced with wide eyes and a drawn face. Hector recognized her as one of Ivette's friends. "Mr. Winchester, Tim's in the ambulance. He tried to save Evy, a-and he got hurt."

"What was it?" Cas asked her as the three men pulled her aside.

She blinked, then looked around to focus on Hector, who gave her a supporting smile. "I don't know." She squeaked. "We had a visitor for Humanities, and after he gave his presentation he asked for a volunteer. Evy went up, and his eyes went black and he just disappeared with her. Tim tried to grab the gun from the locker – you know, the ones they installed last year for ghosts or something – and the thing just threw him aside and vanished." Her shoulders started shaking, and Hector reached out to pull her into a hug.

"Hey. It's not your fault, kiddo." He soothed, looking up at his father and mouthing 'Demons?' Dean's face tightened, and he stormed towards the ambulance.

Demons. He couldn't even see straight, there was so much rage pumping in his system. There were demons involved, and they had his fucking daughter. She was just a fifteen year old kid! As he made his way to the ambulance, a clean-cut officer stepped in his way. "Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to-."

"I'm Dean Winchester." He snarled. "That's my son in the ambulance."

The officer straightened up. "I'm sorry, sir. This way."

Timothy was being checked out by a medic, holding a bloody bandage over his side with one hand and breathing in from a nebulizer with the other. His eyes lit up when he saw Dean and Cas approaching. The medic glanced up. "You the father?" He asked, and Dean nodded. "Timothy has a broken ankle, two broken ribs and a nasty gash on his side. He's going to need to-."

"Allow me." Cas stepped forward and placed his hand over Timothy's side.

After the usual glow that demonstrated his Grace, Timothy took off the nebulizer and stood up, the medic's protest silenced in shock. "They have Evy." Tim blurted out. "Dad, I'm so sorry, I tried to stop him, but the teacher didn't have the holy water or devil's trap she was supposed to, and-."

"Tim, it's fine." Dean gave a shaky smile and pulled Tim into a tight hug. "I'm just glad you're safe. Now, did the teacher touch anything in the room?"

"No, she just called 9-1-1 and pulled the alarm. No one's been inside yet, except for the cops."

Dean hadn't been this furious and frustrated and terrified ever since he saw Sammy… God, he couldn't think about that. He was going to find his little girl, and the son-of-a-bitch who was responsible for taking her would regret ever crawling out of Hell.

.

"How's Dad?" Hector demanded the instant Cas materialized in Ellen's front room. He'd been with Dean looking through the classroom for any signs of the demon.

Cas thought for a moment. He really had no idea how to describe Dean at the moment. He'd seen the Righteous Man at his best, and he'd thought he'd seen him at his worst, but he'd obviously been mistaken up until now. "Angry." He finally settled with. "Frightened. Furious. It's… complicated."

"No shit." Hector grumbled before continuing to pace through the front room. "Did he find any clues? Who is this demon and why would he take my baby sister? God damn it!" He finished that sentence with picking up the coffee table and flipping it over.

"Hector Davila-Winchester, you put that back right now!" Ellen ordered from the kitchen.

Hector's face melted into a sheepish mask, because Hell hath no fury like Ellen Harvelle. "Sorry, Grandma." He grumbled before setting the table back up and scooting the rug to cover the scuff marks on the floor. "Uncle Cas, please. What've you guys found?"

"Nothing." Cas sighed and sat himself down on a chair. He had many pleasant memories in this room, and how, he had plenty of unpleasant ones. "Whoever this was, he was massively powerful, and he was angry. That's all we could tell."

"Well, that's bullshit." Hector dropped onto the couch.

"Hector!" Cas and Ellen warned at the same time.

"It doesn't matter! Evy's gone!" Hector clenched his eyes shut.

"Hector. We're going to find her." Cas promised, even though he knew he had no way to guarantee it. He seemed to be the only one to know that fact. "She's going to be fine. I give you my word."

"I'm gonna hold you to that." Hector smiled tensely before standing up and storming upstairs. "But if you guys don't do anything soon, Tim and I will."

.

Sneaking out of Grandma's house had always been easy, as long as Aunt Jo and/or Aunt Charlie wasn't outside to catch them. Tim was tall enough now to just drop to the ground from the second floor, while Hector still had to scale down the gutter drain. Tim covered his mouth to keep from snickering as Hector shot him a glare.

"Hijo de puta." He snapped under his breath. Tim didn't speak Spanish like his brother did, but he knew Hector well enough to know what it was probably a comment about his mother.

"Hec, this is serious." Tim sighed, stowing retorts away for later. "We need to find Evy."

"Shut up, Timmy." Hector scowled and dropped to the ground. From behind his back, he procured their father's hunter's journal and flicked to the back. "Dad didn't write much about this one – can't blame him there – but he said that there was a sulfur trail, he just didn't follow it because he thought he wasn't ready." He snapped it closed and shoved it into his duffel bag, which was filled to the brim with guns, holy water and bullets carved with devil's traps.

"If Dad thought it was too dangerous-." Tim started.

"Oh, be quiet, Moose. Or should I say, Mouse." Hector smirked. "It'll be fine. Dad taught us how to hunt, and what would the use be if we didn't ever use it?" Tim sighed, but followed his brother to the car. They didn't dare touch their father's ancient Impala (despite popular belief, they didn't have a death wish, and touching the car that was three times their ages was a one-way ticket to Hell) and instead hijacked their sister's car. Really, it was all of theirs, but she mainly took care of it. It was an old 2012 Chevy truck, but it was still in good shape.

"This is a terrible idea." Tim grumbled as he threw his bag into the truck bed.

"Kids are to be seen and not heard, Moose." Hector gave a lopsided smile and started the car. The Santana CD in the player blasted ear-shatteringly loud music for about three seconds before both Winchester boys slammed it off, exchanging looks. "Well, that could have been dangerous." Hector laughed.

"Shut up and drive, you jackass."

"You know you love me, baby."

"Jerk."

"Bitch."

.

"Dean. Wake up."

Dean nearly shot out of his skin and was about to blow a hole in whatever had shaken him awake when he recognized the fallen angel. After more than twenty years of knowing him, Dean still wasn't used to the angel-mojo. "Cas, you scared the shit out of me." He grumbled crossly, jamming the gun back into the side holster draped over the bedpost.

"This isn't the time for your idioms, Dean. We have an emergency."

What, besides my little girl being kidnapped by the strongest damn demon I've ever seen and spirited away to God knows where? Fan-fucking-tastic. "What is it?" He asked, rubbing his forehead tiredly.

"Hector and Timothy are gone."

Dean snapped from groggy to wide-awake in less than half a second. "What the hell do you mean?!"

"They took a duffel bag and left. I can't sense them because of the sigils we've carved in their ribs, but they took your journal with them."

"God damn it!" He shot out of bed and threw on the first clothes he came into contact with. Why in the name of God were his sons so damn impulsive?! He grabbed his prepared duffel and went flying down the stairs, hammering on a bedroom door he passed. "Jo! Kids are in trouble, c'mon!"

.

I couldn't resist making Mini-Winchesters. I'm sorry for hurting you. Here have a hug.

While I'm talking, I'm considering this a bit of an AU from Season 8. Cas didn't go so batshit and retained some of his mojo and stayed with the Winchesters as their kind of guardian angel. As for the tablets, I'm working on it.