Hey guys. I know I said it was a one-shot, but I just had to do another chapter. This is just way too fun. If you even bother to read these, please check out the one at the bottom when you're through reading!
Dean Winchester's daughter does not like bathtubs.
Dean sometimes wonders if this is his fault, for dropping her as he picked her up out of it one day. But then, they've also seen plenty of bath-tub deaths, so he get some relief of guilt from this. It doesn't stop her from always preferring rooms with just a shower stall, though.
Dean Winchester's daughter calls Three Days Grace 'whore music.'
But somehow Time of Dying escaped her judgment. Honestly, Dean doesn't give a damn WHAT kind of music it is. He just wants her to stop humming Lie to Me by Red, because really, it's all the same to him.
Another thing. If it's whore's music…why was it all she listened to just a year ago?
Dean Winchester's daughter loves Tinkerbell.
He lets her get away with the notebooks, sweat shirt, and even the backpack, but he put his foot down on the car air freshener.
Dean Winchester's daughter collects sweatshirts.
It's not such a bad idea, really. After all, if she buys them three at a time when they're on sale for a total of 20 bucks, he'll never have to worry about her getting cold.
Dean Winchester's daughter sleeps in her Uncle Cas's t-shirt.
Dean doesn't know how she got hold of it. He only wore it twice, but both times they were at Bobby's, so maybe the sentimental old fool kept it. Or maybe she just stole it out of the trash can, which is highly likely on its own.
Dean Winchester's daughter writes poetry.
Dean paused at the door. "What's going on, Sam?"
Sam glanced up from the notebook in his hands. "Dean, come look at this."
Wondering what could possibly be worthy of that surprised look, Dean warily went over to Sam. "That Adrian's journal?"
"Yeah, I found it by accident. She left it open to this page, and…Dean, just listen." He cleared his throat and started to read.
"I walk the path that I am destined to;
and given a choice, I might have chosen different.
But I cannot choose another course
than the one with my family,
my heart,
and my soul.
Because when I bleed,
I bleed for them.
When I sleep
I dream of them.
When I work
it is to make them proud.
And when I die,
I'll die for them.
My family is my livelihood
Not only in that they care for me,
but in that they are all I have.
My family is my one and only marking on this world.
My worldly possessions are minimal
and the changes I make go unnoticed by all.
But my family:
My father,
Sam,
and Uncle Bobby,
they will remember me.
And if Uncle Cas was still alive
he might remember too."
Dean's eyes are wet, but he doesn't know why. He hears a squeak of surprise at the door and sees his daughter standing there, stunned into silence. Finally, he finds a way to make his lips form words and he says, "That's beautiful, Adrian." Then the chick moment is gone, at least in Dean's eyes, and he clears his throat and taps Sam's shoulder. "Put it, uh, put it back where you found it." He leaves the room quickly, heading for the stairs to go see if Bobby has any more Oktoberfest, or if they're left with Corona.
"Daddy?"
Dean turns around. "Yeah, Princess?" Here comes the shouting…
"I'm glad you like it."
Later, her excuse was "Well, I had to write it for school," but Dean's not buying it and she knows it. And ever since, every once in a while, little scraps of paper with poetry on them find their way into his pockets, wallet, and bag, just in the right spot for him to find them.
Dean Winchester's daughter read their books.
"They're not half bad," she says one evening. "But they got one thing wrong."
"What's that?" Dean asks her absently as he cleans his gun.
"There's not a single mention of your relationship with Uncle Cas."
He throws a cleaning rag at her, but doesn't bother to argue that they're not together. She knows it, she just likes to get a rise out of him, and pretending to think he's gay for his best friend is her favorite way to do it.
Dean Winchester's daughter is a twit.
At least, she is when she can get away with it. Like with that water gun. And the pancakes. And the trick birthday candles. But the firecrackers in the trashcan were just a step too far, and the next day, she fished her hoodie out of a tree, then got jumped from at least three closets.
Dean likes to call it "interactive training."
Dean Winchester's daughter doesn't worry about the future.
"It's not like mine is going anywhere."
"You can be anything you want to," Dean tells her again and again. "I'll never stop you."
"Good, because I want to be what I am right now. Forever."
"And what's that?"
"Your favorite girl."
He bumps her shoulder playfully. "You're my only girl." Then he kisses the top of her head. "And you'll always be my favorite, no matter what you do. Just don't become a serial killer. Or a cannibal."
"All right. I'll knock Hitler and zombie off the list."
Dean Winchester's daughter hates demons.
It's not just that they're evil sons of bitches. She just thinks they're ugly. And apparently, she holds their lack of knowledge on the whereabouts of Shakespeare's and Poe's souls against them.
Dean Winchester's daughter never cared to meet her mother.
Dean can kind of understand this one. After all, Lori dumped her on the doorstep of Dean's motel when she was less than a week old. Still, when Sam accidentally discovered her in a hospital they were investigating, Dean popped in to tell her he would be bringing Adrian around.
What he didn't expect to find was a very cancer-wasted, frail woman who looked nothing like herself from thirteen years ago. Still, Dean dragged Adrian to see her, and then a week later he brought her to the funeral.
Dean didn't cry for Lori.
His daughter didn't cry either.
Dean Winchester's daughter scares him sometimes.
"Goddammit, Adrian, get down from there!"
With a giggle, the seven year old leapt down from the tree, landing gracefully on her feet. "What's the matter, Daddy?"
Dean doesn't have the heart to tell her it was a hanged man's tree she was just climbing, so instead he says, "Don't go so high. You had me worried."
"Daddy, I won't fall. I promise. I'm a real good climber!"
"Yeah you are, you little monkey. Hey, why don't you go see if Grandpa needs help with anything?" He points to the car, far away from the tree he's about to burn.
"Okay, Daddy!" She runs off, still giggling.
He glares at the tree. "You're lucky you didn't hurt her. I'd kill you again, you son of a bitch."
He feels just a tiny bit of enjoyment from burning that damn tree.
That's all I've got for now. I might add on to this if I come up with any more, but I'm going to leave it marked as complete in case I don't.
Anyways, I'd like it very much if everyone could go to my profile and vote. I'm thinking about doing a story based on Adrian and Dean, and I'm wondering if anyone would want to read that. Any takers? Yes? No? Maybe?
R&R
