A/N: Okay this is a Thankgiving Special Daddy Drabble, requested by ebonywarrior85. It's in the Lydia 'verse (she has multiple chapters in this series).


There were ten minutes until Lydia's kindergarten class let out and as usual, Dean was spending it at the school doors being smothered by the single moms who also had kids in the class.

"So Dean, what exactly do you do for a living?"

"Dean, I accidentally made extra brownies over the weekend and thought you might like them."

"You live with your brother, right?"

It was always a relief when Miss Carol opened the classroom door and the kids flooded out. Lydia was usually first and today was no exception. She ran out of the room, ignoring the teacher's orders to slow down. Dean caught her as she bounded up to him and he swung her up in his arms while she giggled and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Did you miss me?" she asked as they walked to the Impala.

"Of course I did," Dean responded just like he did every day when she asked him the question.

"Daddy, today we learned about pilgrims and the Indians and that they buried fish in their yards." He watched her nose wrinkle in the rearview mirror and noticed a streak of paint under her chin. "I don't like fish."

"I know," he said, chuckling. The kid had a healthy appetite despite being small for her age but no matter what, she refused to put anything seafood related into her mouth. That was fine with Dean: seafood was the weak man's meat. As long as she ate burgers – and boy did she eat them – he was fine with it.

"Let's see your take home folder," he said once they got back to the house and they had both kicked off their shoes so that both pair lay haphazardly in the doorway, Lydia's pink fur boots looking incredibly small next to Dean's work boots.

"I want to go to Grandpa's!" she said.

"Take home folder first," Dean reminded her. "Then we can go to Grandpa's and have a snack."

"I want ants on a log!" Lydia shouted.

"Folder," Dean said, trying to direct her wavering attention. It was their afternoon ritual that they sat down at the table together and read through the papers Lydia's teacher had sent home. Most of it was just information for parents but she occasionally had homework like coloring or writing out the alphabet a million times in a row. It made Dean bored as all get out to watch but Lydia was going to do well in school, he would make sure of it. She didn't seem to have the natural inclination toward academics that Sam had but Dean wasn't going to have her turn out like him, a high school dropout.

The folder was brightly colored with pictures of Strawberry Shortcake on the front and bent at the edges from both Dean and Lydia shoving it in her backpack in haste to make it disappear from view. Inside were two sheets of paper: one was a worksheet that he handed to Lydia and helped her get started on it. All she had to do was trace over the large letters that made up the multiple words they had learned recently, but the task was made ten times more difficult because Lydia wasn't exactly in the mood to sit still; she seemed to have picked up the habit of fidgeting from her father. Except Dean knew that if the homework didn't get done now, it wouldn't get done at all.

"Come on, kiddo," he said, tapping the paper. "You can do it."

"I don't wanna," she whined, laying her head down on her arm and dropping the pencil. Dean stopped it from rolling off the table.

"Well, I happen to know that a certain orange kitty is keeping Grandpa company at his house so you should hurry up so we can see him." Lydia groaned but picked up the pencil. Dean tried to hide a smile and started reading the orange piece of paper that he'd taken out of the folder.

Dear kindergarten parent(s),

This year, class 2B will be putting on a Thanksgiving play the day before Thanksgiving at eleven. This will be followed by a Thanksgiving feast that our kindergarteners will help prepare. We have been learning about the history of Thanksgiving this month in class and they are very excited to show you what they've learned. Please feel free to invite other family members such as grandparents and siblings to see the play and join us for the meal. Return this sheet with the number of people coming.

Miss Carol

And underneath that:

Lydia Winchester has been assigned the role of: Pilgrim. Please see list for appropriate costume pieces.

"So you're putting on a school play?" Dean asked after he had finished reading. Lydia's eyes snapped up from her homework where she had been painstakingly tracing the 'g' in dog.

"I'm going to be a pilgrim!" she said. "And then we are going to have a big dinner!"

"That sounds like fun."

"Are you going to come?" she asked more seriously, watching him carefully.

"Of course I am," Dean said, surprised. "Why wouldn't I?"

"Sometimes you have to go on trips without me," she reminded him, going back to her homework. It broke his heart how easily she said it but it was true. Dean was still hunting despite Lydia's growing attachment to him. He couldn't seem to shake the pure need to hunt.

"I'll be there," he said.

"Will Uncle Sam come?"

"You bet," Dean said, knowing Sam wasn't going to miss this for anything. Although Lydia was closest to Dean, she was incredibly close with all three men and Sam and Bobby leant Dean a huge hand when it came to raising her. He knew he couldn't do it without them and he wouldn't want to even if he could.

"And Grandpa?"

"Yep."

"And Oscar?"

"I don't think Oscar is allowed to go inside the school. But he'll be waiting for you when you get back." She shrugged and brushed hair out of her face.

"It was worth a shot."

Dean stared at his five year old.

"When did you learn to say that?" She looked up at him as if he were crazy.

"Uncle Sam says it all the time, Daddy." The duh was implied and Dean couldn't believe his little girl was growing up.

xxx

"Grandpa, I'm going to be a real pilgrim!" Lydia said, rushing into Bobby's house two days later, Dean following close behind. With him he carried a plastic bag from the Salvation Army and a bag of food for dinner that they had picked up on the way home.

"Hey, sunshine," Bobby said, stomping his way up the basement stairs. "What are you hollering about?" Despite his age, Bobby was still able to hoist the little girl over his shoulder and she giggled until he threw her gently onto the couch and then she exploded with laughter.

"Grandpa, stop, stop!" she pleaded and he pulled away, a twinkle in his eye. She sat up on her knees. "Daddy bought me pilgrim clothes!"

"He did what?" Bobby said, throwing a glance back at Dean who had already pulled a beer out of the fridge.

"At the pilgrim store," Lydia said seriously. "I got a dress and an apron and a white hat and I get to wear it to school tomorrow for the play." At the mention of the performance, Bobby's face tightened but only Dean noticed.

"Liddy, why don't you go get Oscar from the back bedroom?" Dean suggested. The cat spent his days in Bobby's house when Lydia was gone; he wouldn't admit it but the old man had a soft spot for the feline.

"Then can I try on my costume?"

"Sure," Dean said. "Go on now."

When she was out of earshot, Dean turned to his surrogate uncle.

"What's going on? Where's Sam?"

"I had your brother run to the library for me. He should be back soon."

"Come on, Bobby," Dean said. "What's up with you?" The older Hunter drew a hand over his face and sat down on the couch Lydia had just vacated.

"I can't make it to Lydia's thing tomorrow."

"You can't –" Dean lowered his voice, "What the hell are you talking about? We told her all three of us were gonna go."

"Well, I have other things to do," Bobby snapped. "I ain't her father." Dean reared back as though Bobby had slugged him a good one.

"Excuse me?"

"Daddy, I'm back!" Lydia said. She raced into the room with Oscar trotting behind her and leaped into Dean's lap. He held his beer out so it wouldn't spill and let out a grunt when one of her knobbly knees landed square in his solar plexus. "Can I try my costume on now? Pleeeeaaaaase?

"You know what?" Bobby said, standing and moving a curtain to the side so he could see out the front window. "I think Uncle Sam is home."

"I want to try on my costume," Lydia said, bouncing up and down on Dean's lap who was busy glowering at Bobby. Lydia put a small on either side of her father's face and made him look at her. "Daddy, focus," she instructed, sounded a lot like Dean when he was trying to get her to do her homework.

"Right here, Liddy," he said as the front door opened and Sam walked inside.

"I want to try on my costume," she repeated and then used her hands to move Dean's head up and down so that he was nodding. "Say yes."

"Hey, Lydia," Sam said.

"Uncle Sam will help you," Dean said. "Right?" He looked over at his brother meaningfully, hoping that Sam would understand Dean needed him to take Lydia out of the room. sam did.

"Lydia, come show me your costume," Sam said, putting down the library books on the front table. She darted ahead of him and he followed with long strides.

"Bobby, we told her we would be there!" Dean said as soon as her chatter had faded.

"And you will be," Bobby said. "But I got a couple Hunters trapped in a sticky situation. I was waiting for Sam to get home and then I was going to head out."

"Bobby."

"Dean, this is my job. I love that kidlet but I can't let two men die. You know I can't."

"I know," Dean muttered after a minute, rubbing at tense spot between his eyes. "What about Thanksgiving? You gonna be back for that?"

"The job's in Florida."

Dean was silent.

"I'm sorry," Bobby said. "I hate to miss it."

"I wanted you to be here," Dean mumbled.

"I know," Bobby said. For a fleeting second, he thought about reaching out, maybe putting a hand on Dean's shoulder but he knew that the younger man would just shy away, possibly get angry. It was bad enough that Bobby wasn't going to be around for the holiday. He was sorry he had to miss it but the Hunting world stopped for no one. Including the five year old who came bouncing out of the back of the house a moment later.

"Ta-da!" she said, spinning around. Both Dean and Bobby instantly pasted huge smiles on their faces.

"Do you like my hat?" she asked. It was a white bonnet Dean had found in the corner of the Salvation Army and it was a little too big so that it slipped over her eyes. Sam knelt down in front of her to tie the strings into a neat bow under her chin.

"Wow, Liddy," Dean said, smirking at the sight of his child in colonial clothing. It was so adorable, he had to take out his phone. "Liddy, smile," he said and she beamed at him, curtsying like the princesses on TV.

"You are one cute looking pilgrim," Bobby said. "Come here, sunshine." The black dress was also too big and Sam had to pick up the excess material so Lydia didn't trip over the hem.

"Lydia, I'm not going to be able to come see you in the play tomorrow," Bobby said gently. Her smile disappeared faster than a Lamborghini around a curve.

"Are you going to have dinner with us?" she asked, looking over to her father. Dean bit his lip. Lydia had been talking about Thanksgiving since the morning after Halloween. Dean and Sam had spun fantastic tales of a turkey as big as her whole body and a whole plate of mashed potatoes just for her along with not one or two but three slices of pumpkin pie. Dean's house was decorated with orange and yellow and brown paper chains, his fridge was decorated with a handprint turkey made in Art class yesterday, and a Native American "headdress" was sitting on Lydia's dresser, which was really just a band of brown paper the size of Lydia's head with a couple craft feathers glued to it.

"I don't think so, sweet pea," Bobby said. "I have to go to work for a few days."

"On a trip?" By now, Lydia knew that "going on a trip" meant that the one of the men – or two of them – were going away for a long time and might come back injured or very late at night. Lydia hated trips.

"Yes," Bobby said. Lydia's lower lip trembled and she walked over to Dean and into his waiting arms.

"Are you going on a trip too?" she asked him.

"No, I'm going to stay home with you and we're going to eat so much pie, our stomachs will be like balloons," Dean promised. She stayed in his arms but twisted around to look at Sam.

"Is Uncle Sam going on a trip?" she asked and the younger Winchester shook his head, offering a smile.

"Daddy and I are going to stay home with you. And we're going to come watch you be the best pilgrim in the whole wide world," Sam assured her. Lydia hesitated then nodded and Dean swept a calloused hand over her hair, brushing it out of her eyes. "Come on," Sam said, crouching down and offering his back to Lydia. "Let's go get ready for dinner with a piggy back ride." With one more tearful glance back at Bobby, Lydia climbed on Sam's back and they trotted off.

"I hate this," Dean mumbled to his half-empty beer bottle. "I didn't want her to grow up like this."

"It's the way we are," Bobby said. "You're doing the best you can, Dean. Let it go."

Dean was trying but it was easier said than done

xxx

"Oh my god," Sam said, opening up the camcorder he had dug out of Bobby's basement the night before. "This is so cute." Dean had to agree. They were seated with about thirty other parents and family members around the edges of Lydia's kindergarten classroom in chairs about the size of Sam's palm. Both Winchester's squirmed uncomfortably in the tiny seats, adjusting this way and that to see if it was possible to get more than one buttock on the chair at a time. It wasn't.

At exactly eleven o'clock, six little Indians and six little Pilgrims marched into the classroom where they had been waiting in the library. Lydia was the last Pilgrim on the right side, conveniently standing close to where her father and uncle were sitting. When she noticed them, she grinned and waved at them. Sam and Dean waved back, trying not to burst out laughing at how ridiculous the whole thing looked, Lydia included. The "apron" she wore was really just a bedsheet that the lady at the Salvation Army had cut and pinned to the simple black dress and her bonnet was crooked, but Lydia looked ecstatic.

The play was short and chaotic. A couple of the kids were too shy to say their lines and Miss Carol had to step in for them but when it came for Lydia to speak, she stepped forward with dramatic flair and almost shouted the line she had been assigned to memorize.

"The Indians helped us grow food by putting fish into the ground!" Then she dropped the stuffed prop fish into the waiting container on the ground. Even though they weren't supposed to, Sam and Dean stood up and clapped and Lydia waved at them again, too excited to remember classroom rules. At the end, when they all took a bow, her pigtails flew wildly as she bowed four times in a row with enthusiasm.

"Did you see me? Did you see me?" she yelled after she had taken off her costume and was back in the room.

"Lydia, use your inside voice please," Miss Carol reminded her.

"Did you see me?" she asked again, more quietly.

"You were amazing," Sam assured her. "You were the best pilgrim out of all of them."

"Really?" she asked, climbing into Sam's lap. All of the other children were sitting in their own chairs but Lydia looked comfortable leaning against Sam's chest and Dean didn't feel the need to chastise her at the moment. What harm would it do, really? She had cried again that morning when they left for school without Bobby but her tears had stopped as soon as Dean had reminded her that Bobby would be back in a few days and they would all go out to dinner together.

"You were great," Dean said. "Definitely my favorite. I loved when you dropped the fish right into the bucket."

"I didn't even miss!" she said proudly. With one hand tangled up in Sam's hair, she showed them the placemats they had colored in class with the word "Daddy" scrawled on one and the words "Uncle Sam" on the other. And when the parent helpers dished out the food, she refused to eat until Dean and Sam told her that the cornbread muffins she had helped make were the best ones they had ever tasted, when in reality they were dry and crumbly.

"Uncle Sam?" she asked when they were about to leave. "Will you carry me?"

"Sure," Sam said, raising his eyebrows at Dean, who shrugged. Lydia laid her cheek on Sam's shoulder as they walked out, becoming strangely quiet after they got into the Impala. Dean was so disturbed the sudden change in his daughter that he tested her forehead with the back of her hand but she just pushed him away.

"She's not sick," Dean said, shrugging again. Lydia had picked up Oscar and gone to her room and now Sam and Dean were in the living room, half watching the rerun of a football game.

"She's probably just tired," Sam said. "I'm sure she'll be fine in a little while."

xxx

They decided to have Thanksgiving dinner at Dean's house and Sam came over early in the morning to help his brother prepare the meal. They were keeping it simple with a small turkey, mashed potatoes, stuffing, and rolls, with two different pies for dessert. Still, there was a lot to do.

"Where's Lydia?" Sam asked as Oscar met him at the door. Sam picked the cat up and scratched his head for a moment, feeling the purr vibrate against his hand. It was odd to see the cat without his usual sidekick but Sam's niece was nowhere to be seen and it was ten o'clock in the morning.

"Sleeping," Dean said. He had just finished prepping the turkey and was sliding it into the oven.

"Still? Is she okay?"

"I've checked on her a couple times and she doesn't have a fever. She said she doesn't feel sick either."

The little girl didn't show up until an hour later and it was then that she walked into the kitchen, dragging her favorite blanket behind her. When she saw Sam standing at the sink and Dean nowhere in sight, she burst into tears.

"Lydia!" Sam said, dropping the potatoes he had been peeling and rushing over to her. "What's wrong? Are you hurt?" She couldn't speak through the sobbing but she shook her head and then launched herself at Sam.

"Shhh, it's okay," he soothed, bewildered. Lydia tugged at his hair, a sure sign that she was distressed. He picked her up and carried her into the living room where he sat the two of them on the couch, completely confused as to what was going on. "Liddy, it's okay, honey. You're okay. Did you have a bad dream?" She nodded against his collarbone and he held on tighter, feeling the quick beat of her tiny heart against his own chest. This is what Dean must go through every time Lydia hugged him goodnight or hello, every time she wrapped her arms around her father's neck.

"M-mommy left," she sobbed, her words stuttering through the tears. "And G-grandpa l-l-left. And now D-daddy left t-too!" she howled, tiny fingers scraping against Sam's scalp as she tried to burrow closer into his body.

"Hey, Daddy didn't leave," Sam said. "He just went out to get firewood." Oscar had jumped up next to them on the couch and when Lydia pulled away, he infiltrated the space between the two humans, rubbing his face against her pajamas.

"W-where?" she hiccupped.

"Outside at the woodpile," Sam said. "He didn't leave, sweetheart. And Grandpa is coming back." Lydia didn't believe him, he could see that her narrowed eyes. So he stood again, hitching her onto his hip and led her to the backdoor. It was easy to spot Dean from here; his arms were stacked high with wood and he appeared to be singing though Sam couldn't hear the words from where they stood inside the house. Sam knocked on the door to get his brother's attention.

It took Dean all of two seconds to drop the wood and sprint to the door when he saw Lydia's tear-stained face. A blast of cold air hit Sam when the door opened and he felt Lydia's toes curl against his leg at the chill.

"What happened?" Dean demanded, reaching for Lydia as soon as he was close enough. She clung to him like a spider monkey.

"She had a nightmare that you left," Sam explained. "And when she woke up and couldn't find you…" Dean's face relaxed but the concern stayed.

"Oh, Liddy," he said softly.

"I thought you were g-gone," she said, the remnants of tears tracking down her cheeks.

"No," Dean said. "I won't ever leave you, okay?" She nodded as she played with the short hair on the back of his neck. "I promise." He carried her back inside where the aroma of turkey was just starting to waft through the rest of the house. Dean turned on the TV and sat with Lydia until he could convince her to let go of his sweatshirt.

"I'm just going to go back outside and get some wood to build you a fire," he said. He tugged on one of her toes. "So your little toesies don't cold, okay?"

"Daddy?" she said in a small voice, tearing her gaze away from the talking snowman on TV.

"Yeah, princess?"

"Can we wait for Grandpa to get home before we have Thanksgiving?"

"Are you sure? Uncle Sam and I are making a bunch of food."

"I want Grandpa," she said.

Dean thought about it. He knew that a lot of kids weren't as attached to their family as Lydia was, he certainly hadn't been to John, but he also knew that most kids didn't live the lifestyle she did, with the important adults coming and going out of her life whenever they wanted. And she had no way to control it. It made sense that she would want all of them in the same place for a little while, especially after losing her mom.

"Okay," he said, leaning down and pressing a kiss to the top of her head. She smiled up at him, reminding him of the pictures of angels he had seen depicted as a child. She sure as hell beat the real live ones.

"Daddy?" He was almost out of the room when she called to him again and he saw the return of her normal spunk as she grinned slyly at him.

"What?"

"We don't have to have turkey for dinner but maybe we could have pie," she said. "I don't think Grandpa would mind."

"Pie for dinner?" Dean said, pretending to think about it.

"Just a little bit?" she cajoled, holding up her thumb and pointer finger close together so they were only an inch or so apart. Dean laughed.

"Okay. Pie for three coming right up."


A/N: Hope you enjoyed! Happy Thanksgiving for those of you celebrating and I hope you get to eat plenty of pie! :D