In any other circumstances, Sam would have laughed out loud at how nervous Dean was.

They were at the International Terminal and now, slowly people on the flight from Sydney began to appear from a door that joined a walkway from the terminal to the plane.

Dean had no idea what his daughter looked like. The only photo the lawyer had been able to send them, not destroyed by the fire, was a dodgy school picture taken five years ago. God knew how much she had changed since then.

'Hey, do you think that's her?' Sam asked grinning, gesturing to a menacingly butch girl wearing a Ghost Busters t-shirt.

'Bitch.' Dean shoved him in the arm.

'Well what about her?' Sam nodded at a waif thin girl with dyed black hunched over with unwashed hair, heavy makeup, ridiculously tight jeans and a mournful the-world-is-against-me expression.

'No daughter of mine listens to emo music.' Dean huffed.

'Her?' Sam pointed.

'Dude, that's a guy!'

'Oh.'

'No wonder you never get laid, you don't even know what a girl is.'

'Jerk.'

'Bitch.'

Gradually the crowd of people emerging from the plane thinned and Dean began to panic. 'She's walked right past us, hasn't she? Been taken into white slavery or something. Jesus, Sam, what are we going to do? I'm such a horrible father and I haven't even met my kid yet.'

'Dude.' Sam nudged his brother and he fell silent.

A girl had stopped in the frame of the walkway door. She checked a photo in her hand, then looked at them, then back at the photo, frowning slightly. She was tiny, her petite frame made her look fragile, vulnerable, but as she and Dean locked eyes he recognised her almost instantly. As Oprah as it sounded, he just knew.

'That's her.' Dean said quietly.

'Are you sure?'

'Yep.' He replied confidently.


That was her father. It had to be. He was taller than she had imagined. Why hadn't she inherited any of that height? He had to be about 6'1. But the guy standing next to him dwarfed him. Who was that anyway? A friend? A random stranger? A relative? His boyfriend? No, from what Laura had told her, Dean Winchester was definitely straight.

He looked almost exactly the same as he did in the photo except for a bit older and with a few more scars. He was good looking, as creepy as perhaps it may have seemed for her to think that. So was his friend.

She felt suddenly shy and had no idea what she should do next. She half moved toward them then stopped self-consciously. The two men met her halfway. For a few seconds, nobody said anything.

It was Sam who broke the silence. 'So…Ella, right? I'm Sam, Dean's brother. Which I guess makes me your uncle.'

Ella smiled. 'It's nice to meet you.' So he wasn't Dean's brother.

Dean remained silent as Ella looked at him expectantly. He seemed completely lost for words.

'Dude.' His brother shoved him.

He finally managed to find his voice. 'Er…hi…. how's it going?' He asked with some effort, holding out his hand.

In the many times she'd pictured this moment since she was five years old and her mother had told her about Dean, this was never quite what she'd imagined.

'Um, good…I guess?' Ella said uncertainly, shaking the proffered hand.

'Good, good, that's good.' Dean answered, cringing inwardly.

'Yes…it's good.'

They fell into an awkward silence.

'So…' Thank God for Sam, Dean and Ella thought gratefully. 'I say we grab all your bags and then go get something to eat.'

'That sounds good.' Ella agreed.

An hour later (why was it that it's always your bags that come out last on the conveyor belt?) the three of them were looking at menus. The car trip had been suitably awkward. Nobody knew quite how to act. Sam had asked a couple of polite questions but Dean had simply focused on driving. Or, tried to. His daughter was in the backseat. He had a kid. And she was sitting behind him. She was real. She was part Winchester. He still couldn't believe it. He had no clue what to do. When Sam had meaningfully left various parent-help books lying around with titles such as How to communicate with your teenager, Raising Girls and Help! I'm a Father (When a one-night stand turns into a life long commitment), Dean had simply told his brother that he was whipped. He was starting to regret it.

Now, in the back booth of, he couldn't help but watch her as she and Geek boy chatted easily about books or something he wouldn't know anything about. She was pretty, almost a spitting image of Laura, but at the same time, there was a stubbornness about the way she stuck out her chin and a glint in her eyes that was all Winchester.

'Would you like to order?' A perky blond waitress asked Dean flirtatiously, shaking him from his reverie. She had so little body fat anywhere else apart from her boobs, it was surprise she had not fallen over yet from lack of balance.

'Heck yes.' Dean smirked, momentarily forgetting his sixteen year old daughter was sitting in the booth across from him.

'Oh but Daddy, I'm not ready yet.' Ella said pointedly, her eyes wide and innocent.

A look of horror appeared on the waitress's face. 'I'll uh…get Marge to come over when you are then.' Said the blonde, abruptly hurrying away as Sam shook with silent laughter. 'I like you already.' He told Ella, who smirked. The Winchester Smirk, Dean noted with a mixture of pride and annoyance.

'A teenage kid, the ultimate turn off.' He muttered under his breath.

'Yeah, well I just met you, I didn't want you arrested. She looks about my age.'

Dean threw her a disgruntled look. But after that the atmosphere lightened considerably. Particularly when Marge turned out to be a grumpy, rotund woman in her 50's who seemed just as keen on Dean as Order Taking Barbie, as Ella had affectionately named the other waitress.

'Can I get a cheeseburger and-' Ella began.

'Are you sure you just wouldn't like to throw another shrimp on the barbie?' Dean asked.

'Oh, ha, ha, would you like fries with that?' Ella returned promptly.

Marge brought back their attention with a rather disgusting cough.

'Sorry,' Ella apologised. 'Um, a cheeseburger and a side of chips…I mean fries and coke please. And sauce…I mean…. Ketchup.'

Dean looked at her approvingly. 'Make that two.'

'Three, please.' Sam chipped in.

Marge left and silence fell over the table again.

'So, what do you want me to call you?' Ella questioned bluntly at last. 'I mean, Dad? Daddy? Father? Pops? Pa? Papa? Daddio?'

'God no.' Dean shuddered. 'Dean is fine.'

'Dean it is.' She conceded. 'You can just call me Ella.'

'Ella it is. And you can call him Geek Boy.' Dean gestured to his brother.

Sam rolled his eyes. 'Sam is fine.'


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