The Winchester Charm

by Lorelai McQueen

Dean Winchester met Melinda Halliwell when he was just six years old. They had what seemed like a good romance until she up and disappeared on him. Now, when he's in need of healing, Sam drags him to San Francisco to confront his past. What he finds changes his life forever. Dean/Melinda. S1 SPN & post-S8 Charmed.

10. God Says All He Has to Say

Chapter 10: God Says All He Has to Say When a Hero Falls

A/N: It hurts so much going through my day-to-day crap knowing that, right this second, Dean is gone from this world. It hurts to think of Sam, alone, trying to move past his grief and get to a place where he'll be okay enough one day to marry Eileen (whom I'm assuming is the blurry shaped co-parent of his) and be a good father to Dean Jr. I can't think of them without crying, despite knowing of their eventual reunion in a few decades' time in Heaven.

It took me A WHOPPING 8 WEEKS – four times longer than usual – to get this chapter out because I was so lost after the finale. It's just the oddest feeling of mixed emotions, all of which end up making me feel devastated anyway. In the end, I realized that while I loved Sam and Dean's ending in Heaven (understanding, of course, that their loved ones are there with them in Heaven, but we just couldn't see them due to the real-life COVID situation), I didn't care for their ending on Earth. I wanted more for them and I needed to see it in black and white before I could continue TWC.

So I did it. I jumped forward through the planned 25 seasons of TWC and went straight to the epilogue and I wrote the ending ala the original Charmed series finale (where we get a breakdown of everyone's future paths right down to the end; the end, of course, being the Heaven that all of them deserved) and I think I managed to write enough to start me on a path of healing after losing one of the most influential characters I've ever known and loved. There's little bits and pieces here and there that need to be edited once it's time for the epilogue to be posted but, for now, I've got the story and the ending that I think these wonderful, beautiful characters deserved.

Title of the chapter comes from the song 'When a Hero Falls' by Stephen Cochran.

Gotta say, I keep coming across songs that fit Dean's death, Sam living without him and the brothers' deserved peace in Heaven. It's not making my emotional state any more stable. HELP.

By the way, this chapter has the final planned flashback at the beginning of it as a way to show the past and what went down between Dean and Lynnie. There will only be more flashbacks written in the future chapters when it's needed for the story itself. We're already at Lynnie's pregnancy, after all.

Also, I planned this love story between Dean and Lynnie and now they sort of gave us Destiel, and I want to do right by them, give them a more satisfying outcome. I couldn't figure out a way to do that for TWC when I've already planned so much for Dean/Lynnie. But now I have, and I hope that this more inclusive version of SPN that explores as much of the LGBTQIA+ rainbow as possible will be as satisfying to read for you as it is for me to write it. I will say more on Destiel when Cas is actually around in the story.

For now, let's go back to a simpler time when Sam and Dean's biggest worry is the YED.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Supernatural or Charmed related. Except an extremely soft maroon SPN hoodie that I watched the finale in…It was a great comfort. Thanks, Hot Topic.

May 2000

San Francisco, California

Lynnie bit her lip as she sat on the closed toilet seat, her gaze locked on the little timer beside the sink. Heart sinking low in her belly, she refused to look at the object next to the timer. Not yet. Not until she had to.

The timer hit 00:00 and beeped obnoxiously, startling Lynnie out of her thoughts of what ifs and maybes. Reaching forward clumsily, she accidentally knocked both the timer and its friend into the porcelain sink. Cursing, Lynnie stood on shaky legs, grabbing the timer first to stop the beeping. Taking a deep, unsteady breath, she reached for the little stick next, eyes zeroing in on it without her consent.

A little pink plus sign.

Pregnant.

She was pregnant.

"Wow," Lynnie mumbled, tears gathering in her eyes as she sunk back down on the toilet seat. She lifted a shaking hand to her flat stomach, feeling a sense of wonder that there was a life growing inside of it even as she sat there, panicking.

Twenty-one years old, engaged to a hunter…And carrying the next generation, all before graduating from college. Momma, are you proud? Lynnie thought almost hysterically.

Sucking in a deep breath, Lynnie did her best to clear her head. Okay, the baby was a shock – she and Dean hadn't planned on starting a family until way down the road. Hell, they'd decided on a long engagement just so things could settle down between Dean and John.

After their disastrous reveal at dinner a few months ago, Dean and Lynnie had agreed to 'just be engaged for a while' so that John could get used to the idea – and so that Dean could show his dad that he could be both a hunter and a husband and not get anyone killed by being too distracted. The three Winchesters had spent the night at the Manor, at Piper's insistence, but when morning came, John had them packed up and hitting the road before the sun was barely up.

Lynnie had seen Dean since, of course. Lots of orbing, lots of phone calls…Dean had even come back to San Francisco twice. For her birthday, just a few weeks after the dinner, they'd even gone on a little weekend trip to New Orleans for a little fun – it had been romantic and dirty in all the best ways.

The plan had been to take things slow, let people – and, by that, they meant John Winchester – get used to the idea of them getting married, of someday starting a family.

It got a little tough, in ways Lynnie hadn't imagined it would. John kept Dean on a tight leash – tighter than usual. Despite how much fun it had been to sneak around, orbing in here and there, it was hard not having any real time to spend together. She missed him all the time and she was worried all the time – John had them taking cases back-to-back, mostly to keep Lynnie and Dean apart as much as he could. It was his belief that the kids were far too young and naïve to be committing to anything and if Dean wanted to marry the girl, they could wait until Yellow-Eyes was dead. Soon, despite how hard Dean and Lynnie tried, they just couldn't find the time to see each other.

As for Dean, he hated missing out on her life. He'd had a taste of what it was like to be a part of her life for more than five minutes. Waking up next to her, having meals together, driving her to class, going on a random picnic at the top of the Golden Gate bridge…Even taking out a few monsters together. It had all been amazing, from eating homemade waffles to ganking monsters. He wanted more of that. And he was jealous of the people who got to be with her when he couldn't. Things changed in a short span of time – she'd get a haircut or meet new friends or found a new hobby, and when she talked about these things, or he'd see her and see something new about her, it felt like he'd missed a good chunk of her life. It felt like he was just on the outside looking in. It didn't feel great.

It led to more than one argument. They fought more, which seemed to just prove to John that they weren't ready to get married. It frustrated Lynnie that John was so intrusive. It frustrated her that he seemed to be succeeding in his plan to stop them from getting married so soon (it wasn't a doubt in her mind that they'd walk the aisle eventually though because not even John Winchester had the power to take Dean away from her). It frustrated her that Dean wasn't around because he was working so much. It irritated her the most that they fought every other time they spoke to each other, both hurt and upset that they couldn't just stop with the nonsense and just be together without walking on eggshells.

It was odd, the fighting, and neither of them were sure why it was happening, only that it was, and it hurt and they didn't want it to continue. And yet, each time they spoke, they fought again. It was petty stuff, but Dean knew how to cut where it hurt the most, and she was no slouch either. She rarely aimed for the jugular with him, knowing that she was the one person he shouldn't be getting that from, but their last fight a few days ago…It had been a doozy. She'd been so hurt by his words and, even though she knew he never meant the harsh things he said when he was angry, that it always ate him up the moment the words spilled out of his mouth, it didn't stop her from lashing out back at him.

It had been the worst fight they'd ever had and if they never fought again, Lynnie would die a happy woman. She had wanted to leave him alone for a while, give them both some time to cool off…

But now their twosome was about to become a threesome and she needed to talk to Dean. She needed him to hold her. She missed having his arms around her. She missed his hands on her, his mouth on hers. She missed just seeing his face, the green of his eyes…She missed the scent of him, the utter comfort she found in his presence. She missed him so much her heart hurt.

She didn't know how Dean would react to the pregnancy but, even without thinking about it, Lynnie knew that there was only one option for her – have the baby.

The beautiful, precious miracle of a child was half Dean Winchester. There wasn't a time or place or dimension that would have her decide to not want them. She was all for choice, but her choice was her baby. She wondered if they would have Dean's smile, or his eyes, or his beautiful jawline. She wondered if they would walk the way he did – would they have bowlegs too? She wondered if they would like what Dean liked, food and classic cars and rock music? She wondered if there was going to be parts of herself that she'd recognize in them…

Raising trembling fingers to her flat stomach, Lynnie lightly pressed down on it. She couldn't feel anything, of course. It was too early for that. She was simultaneously terrified and impatient for the day the baby would be born. She couldn't wait to meet them. Thank God she had at least seven to eight months before she would.

Her turmoil over the baby, her mixed emotions, made the nausea she'd been feeling all week so much worse. A little too overwhelmed, Lynnie vaulted off the closed toilet seat, throwing the lid up and crashing down hard on her knees, bending over the porcelain just in time. Puking was the worst – it was the only drawback to her wild nights out with Dean. Once it felt like her body had been emptied of everything she'd ever put in it, Lynnie shakily twisted the flush, sinking back on her heels and closing her eyes so she wouldn't catch sight of the vomit swirling down the drain, holding her breath to ward off the smell.

So far, pregnancy was a bitch.

Needing some time just to digest and accept this new development in her life, Lynnie devoured half of an entire pizza (meat lovers with pineapple and olives – it was a combination she didn't think would work, but damn, did it ever work) and climbed into bed early, snuggling under her thick comforter and smiling as she caught a whiff of Dean's scent on her pillow (he'd been by for a surprise visit just a few days ago; it was a drive-by that didn't even last twenty-four hours, a pit-stop on the way to meet up with his dad, but she'd cherished it anyway – right up until the fight that still stung her heart whenever she thought about it).

Despite how exhausted she was (who knew taking a few pregnancy tests would be so tiring?), Lynnie was wide awake for an hour after climbing into bed. Sighing, she threw the covers off herself, sitting up and swinging her legs to the side of the bed. She reached for the radio she kept on her bedside table – she'd bought the retro radio a few years back; it had been pretty and vintage and served its purpose well since Dean kept making her mix tapes that were still in cassette form. The tape she loved the most, a Led Zeppelin mix Dean had given to her right before dropping 'the L word' for the first time, was already in the radio's cassette slot. She'd been listening to it non-stop since Dean had stormed out of her apartment a few days ago. She started the tape again, back to the first track, snuggling under her covers and curling up into a ball, letting Led Zep lull her to sleep.

She fell asleep almost immediately after the first song came to an end, and her dreams were plagued by beautiful green-eyed toddlers with sandy brown hair and cheeky little smiles. Her heart ached for it by the time her eyes fluttered open. Missing Dean, she reached over to her nightstand and grabbed her phone, sending him a text.

'Hey. I'm sorry about our fight. Miss your face. Lemme know when you're free for a drop in. XO. L.'

John hated it when she orbed in for a visit when they were on a case, always muttering about how Dean was getting distracted. It never bothered her, but she wanted to make it easier for him to accept her engagement to his son…Especially now, with his first grandchild on the way. If staying away while they were working a case helped, then she' d stay away until she got the all-clear.

She had no classes that day, so she called up her doctor's office to get a last-minute appointment to confirm the pregnancy. Dean called her just as she was stepping out of the clinic.

"Hey, gorgeous," his voice sounded like the smoothest caramel. It made her miss him instantly, her chest hurting from just how much. She had to remind herself of where she was, and that it was probably a bad idea to orb out of a semi-crowded parking space to get to him.

"Hi," she breathed, an unbidden smile stretching from cheek to cheek. She quickly got into her car, shutting the door quietly and sinking back against the plush seat. "How are things?"

"Sammy and I are working on a case," he told her, sounding excited. "Sounds a little witchy – the bad kind."

She laughed a little at his abrupt correction. "You hate the bad kind of witches," she narrowed her eyes. "Why do you sound excited?"

"Dad's sitting this one out," he told her in an almost hushed tone. "Sort of. Sammy and I are taking lead on this one. He's just kind of…Supervising."

"Wow," Lynnie grinned, feeling more than a little proud of him. He and Sam had been getting more and more responsibilities working cases with John the past couple of years, but she knew this was the first time they were taking lead on something beyond a simple salt-and-burn. She supposed John wanted them to stand on their own two feet. "That's great, Dean! Congratulations!"

"Yeah, it's been fun," Dean chuckled, low and warm. "Sammy's even been a little more pumped for this one."

"That's good. He seemed down lately," Lynnie observed, pulling her lower lip between her teeth.

"Yeah," Dean sighed. "It's this college thing. He hasn't mentioned anything to Dad yet but…He wants to go. He's said it a few times."

"Dean…Would that be so bad?" she broached tentatively. "Sam deserves to go to college. He's smarter than most people I know."

"He's a friggin' genius, are ya kidding me!?" Dean replied, and she could hear the pride shining through in his voice. "But…Dad wouldn't like it. Sam's one of us. A hunter. Living some apple pie life for four years? That's gonna get him sloppy. What's a college degree gonna do for him anyway? He's gonna flash it at a monster before we gank it?"

Lynnie stayed silent, already knowing that if Sam wanted to go to college, he'll want a normal monster-free life after graduating from it.

"Ahh, doesn't matter anyway," Dean brushed it off. "We still have a year left before we gotta deal with all this crap, right?"

Again, she didn't tell him that if Sam was serious about college, he'd already be knee-deep in research about which ones to apply to come fall. She also didn't tell him she hoped Sam got in, be it an Ivy League school or community college, Sam deserved a chance at what he wanted.

"By the way…" he sounded hesitant, and she knew it was because he was about to bring up their fight. She bit her lip, forcing herself to stay silent. She knew this would be the part where he apologized and she'd forgive him, of course, but she wanted him to actually say the words first. The fact that she knew he didn't mean the words he'd said in anger didn't give him a free pass out of apologizing for saying them in the first place.

"I just…I wanted to say…Look, about…About the other night…" Dean fumbled, running a hand down his face tiredly, ears burning as he worked through an apology. Hearing nothing but silence on the other end, he sighed, knowing that Lynnie wanted to hear the words. And she deserved them, he thought remorsefully, shame and guilt weighing heavily in his stomach. He'd promised himself he'd never be an ass to Lynnie, not the way his dad was to him. He'd failed on that front these past couple of weeks and he had no one to blame for it but himself.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I know it doesn't make what I said right," he shook his head. "God, I don't know what the hell I was thinking. I shouldn't have said any of those things. I didn't even mean them. Please believe me."

"I do," she said softly, tracing circles on her jeans to distract herself. "I'm sorry, too, Dean. It wasn't like I didn't say hurtful things, either. I didn't mean them, either. Okay?"

"Yeah, okay," he said gruffly, but Lynnie could hear the smile in his voice. "I'm…We're gonna be better. I promise. It's been stressful here, with my Dad pretty much breathing down my neck all the friggin' time, but that's not an excuse or a reason. I'll be better. I'm sorry I wasn't before."

"Me too," she promised him quietly, feeling the jagged break in her heart fuse together, her shoulders suddenly feeling lighter.

"I miss you, Lynn," Dean admitted, his voice a little hushed, like he wasn't meant to admit these sorts of things. It hurt her to know that this was a side effect of being raised by John Winchester.

"I miss you, too. So much. Hey, will you tell me when you're free?" she changed the subject. "It's just…I have something I wanna talk about."

"Uh-oh," he said, wary. "Am I in trouble?"

She laughed, nervous and awkward. "No! No…Uh, it's good. I think it's good," she wiped her sweaty palm against her jean-clad thigh. "I just…I wanna see you, that's all."

"Well, okay," Dean said tentatively. "That doesn't sound too bad."

"Not unless you've got something against a hell-raising night of really dirty sex," she teased.

"No, ma'am," he replied cheekily, pep immediately back in his voice. "Listen, uh, I gotta go. Sammy and I are about to scout out this chick knitting club. We're thinking one of 'em's the one."

"Well, keep the ogling strictly professional, buddy," Lynnie warned him teasingly, her fingers stilling over her stomach as she realized she'd been rubbing it gently like some sort of comforting motion. It wasn't as though there was anything to feel yet, but it was a habit she'd established in the past twenty-four hours. It was ridiculous. Get a grip, Halliwell, she chided herself.

"Gross, they're like fifty," Dean's disgust came through loud and clear. "No, thank you."

"There are such things as MILFs, you know?" she said defensively. "People over fifty can be a total smoke show!"

"I know you will be," he told her sweetly. "Man, you'd be a total babe at fifty."

"Shut up," she laughed, rolling her eyes. "Stop being corny and find the big, bad witch. The sooner you gank her, the sooner you and I can have some alone time."

"Yes, ma'am," he repeated, and she could almost see the goofy smile she knew he had to be wearing.

He was so adorably dorky sometimes. She loved it – she loved him, so much. A little overwhelmed, tears springing to her eyes for some odd reason, Lynnie just had to tell him, "I love you, Dean."

"I love you, too."

It was a good thing she didn't have classes that day because she could barely even function. She had a list of errands as long as her arm, but she sat in her car for nearly half an hour just staring at the first thing on that list before giving up.

Going back to her apartment, she changed into her comfiest pajamas (an ugly-Christmas-sweater themed one Parker had gotten for her a few months back as a joke) and threw on Dean's hooded sweatshirt on top. It was huge on her and she pulled the sleeves over her fingers, the hood over her head, snuggling on her bed with the fluffy squirrel plushie Dean had won for her at a fair a couple of years ago. She turned on the TV and watched a few episodes of a Xena marathon, fighting off the urge to give in and take a nap.

Her phone ringing startled her awake and she scrambled for it, almost dropping it. "Dr. Green?"

She'd already taken the test, already knew it was true, could have felt it in her gut, her soul. But her doctor's words, confirming it all for real, made her head spin.

Lynnie barely heard a word she said about making another appointment for a pre-natal check-up and options and vitamins. She couldn't even remember if she thought to thank Dr. Green before she hung up the phone. She stared at Xena and Gabrielle on her TV screen for a few moments, her mind blank, her body frozen.

She'd taken five different home pregnancy tests and she'd pretty much accepted the fact that she's pregnant, but hearing the words confirming what she already knew spoken straight from the doctor's mouth was somehow different. Suddenly, the fog she'd been under since she'd gone to the store to pick up the tests the day before lifted, and in its place, an overwhelming mix of panic, excitement, anxiety and pure happiness.

Scrambling off the bed, Lynnie haphazardly slipped on her shoes, orbing out the moment she had them on. She reappeared in a motel room that looked familiar despite her never having been there before – she'd lost count how many motel rooms she'd visited Dean in and most of them looked exactly the same after a while. Other than the occasional 'themed' rooms (like that one particular disco one that kinda made her head hurt a little), all of them seemed more or less the same.

Dean wasn't there and neither was Sam, but John was. A thought nigged at the back of her mind – Dean had texted her earlier, saying that he and Sam would be out interviewing and investigating all day. Dr. Green's phone call had wiped out all thoughts from her mind temporarily – all but 'Oh, my God, I'm pregnant'.

John blinked at her from where he was seated at the small table to the side of the room. His journal was flipped open to a page about witches, research books on hex bags and curses splayed around it. He was multitasking, reading from one of the books as he cleaned out one of his guns. At the sight of her orbing in, he lowered the gun, the scowl permanently etched onto his face growing deeper.

"Dean isn't here," he told her gruffly, plopping his gun on the table with a dull thud and pulling one of the books closer.

"Right," Lynnie wrung her hands together, a little of the hysteria she was feeling bubbling up to the surface. "I forgot…I just…I need to…I-is he going to be gone long?"

John eyed her warily, her nervous energy making him anxious. She didn't look like she was about to give Dean good news of any sort.

"I don't know. Could be a while," he said slowly. "What's so urgent?"

"Nothing! Nothing," Lynnie sat on the edge of one of the messily-made beds in the room, standing up again almost immediately. "I just…I need to talk to him. I really need to…God, I think I'm shaking. Is this normal? It's probably normal. I mean, it's a shocking thing, right? Unless you were trying for…But we weren't. Trying, I mean. So, it's a shock. A whole…Shock thing. And I just need Dean to know now so we can be shocked together. I think I'd process better if-if he was shocked too."

John blinked at the rambling woman. Damn Halliwells, always so emotional about everything, he scoffed. There was something, though, about her words, about the way she wrapped her arms around herself…There was an internal neon sign blinking inside his head, 'Danger! Danger'. He didn't know what the danger was, but it was there, right at the tip of his tongue.

Still, he forged ahead. She was someone important to his son and despite knowing, deep in his gut, that these kids just weren't ready to do that marriage thing, he liked Lynnie. If his son had to fall in love with someone, he'd rather Dean fell for someone who had a shot against evil instead of a civilian.

Slowly rising from the chair, John held up a hand, putting on his best comforting expression – it wasn't easy; he couldn't remember the last time he comforted someone. Probably Mary when she'd been pregnant with Sammy.

"Whoa, okay, slow down," John spoke quietly, calmly, keeping his eyes locked on Lynnie. Though he wasn't very good at being comforting (never have, to be honest; Dean had always been the one to take care of Sammy in that regard, and Dean never needed much in the form of comfort), John stepped forward, just close enough to reach out and pat Lynnie on the shoulder awkwardly. "Everything okay?"

Lynnie blinked at him blankly for a moment before a hysterical giggle slipped out. Her weird emotional outburst had freaked out John Winchester enough to get him to try to be empathetic. Dean would be speechless. "Yeah," she shook her head. "Yeah, it's okay. I just…Really need to talk to Dean," she exhaled loudly, giving John a weak smile. "I'm sorry I'm being crazy."

Oh, God. Am I supposed to say 'it's okay' now? John panicked. Because it really wasn't okay that she was losing it when there was no one else around. "Uh…" John stared at her blankly.

Realizing that she was making him extremely uncomfortable, Lynnie wrapped her arms around herself, giving him an awkward smile. "Could you just…Tell Dean to call me? It's urgent," she pleaded one more time, giving him a beseeching look.

John nodded – anything to get her to leave before she started ranting again, or worse. "Sure, sure," he waved her off, trying not to let his relief show. He was about to turn away, ready to get back to his guns and research, when he caught something from the corner of his eye – Lynnie's hands, pressed against her own stomach, her fingers gently caressing her flat tummy. It was a weird thing to do, except in one case.

Mary had done it all the time when she'd been pregnant with the boys.

His blood turned to ice, John froze on the spot, his eyes never leaving Lynnie Halliwell's not-yet-showing tummy, already knowing the urgent matter the girl his son had been head over heels for his whole life was going to tell him.

No, no, no, not yet. Not like this, John panicked, unable to do or say anything as Lynnie smiled at him, her words of farewell a muffled garble. He stared at her, stared at the space she'd been occupying long after she'd orbed away, his eyes stuck on the ugly pattern of the wallpaper in the motel room. An image of Mary, mouth opened in a silent scream, bloody gash across her white nightgown, right before being engulfed in flames, flashed across his mind.

It was so vivid that he could smell the burning flesh, feel the heat searing his own skin. Staggering backwards until his knees hit the chair, John dropped back down ungracefully onto his seat, gagging so hard he thought he might vomit.

Propping his elbows on his thighs, John bent over so that he could run his hands down his face, feeling the barely stitched up crack in his heart tear open at the thought of Mary. His heart was pounding, breaking, making him feel just the way he had that fateful night sixteen years ago. He could picture it so clearly on his head, Mary's face turning into Lynnie's, Dean's fate mirroring John's – a baby in the backseat of the Impala, nothing left but vengeance, anger and hatred keeping him going.

A desperate need to protect his son overwhelmed John, and his mind started to race even as his body moved in slow motion. His cell phone rang, and John reached for it almost blindly, not even bothering to check the caller ID.

"Dad!" Dean's voice, happy and excited, jolted John from his shock.

"Dean?" he blinked, voice hoarse as though he'd just woken up from a screaming nightmare.

"Sammy and I ganked the witch," Dean told him, proud as he clasped his little brother on the shoulder and shook him a little. Sam gave him one of those smiles like he was looking up to Dean, and it made the elder brother's heart clench in his chest. It was his biggest goal in life to be the one Sammy could always look up to – and it was his biggest fear that, one day, that look would disappear one day and never come back. "We're good to go here. Should be back at the motel in twenty."

Twenty minutes? John panicked. God, he needed a hell of a lot more than twenty minutes.

"Negative," he said, thinking on his feet. "There's a situation about thirty miles North of here that needs immediate attention."

Dean's heart sank a little, his smile flickering. He'd been hoping for some down time so he could see Lynnie. She'd even asked for him to Call for her the moment he was done with the case, but if there was a situation that needed immediate attention, it wasn't likely that he'd get a chance to see her until he finished up with whatever that was, too. "Really?" he asked, hoping he didn't sound as despondent as he felt. "Couldn't we…Wait a while? Couple of hours, maybe? Or isn't there anyone else…?"

"Dean," John growled, annoyed. He didn't have time for Dean's rare burst of disobedience. With Whitelighters and White Witches all around them, John needed to rush if he was going to succeed in protecting his son.

"Right," Dean deflated, his own desires pushed aside as he stepped back into the role he was born into – that of loyal son and obedient soldier. "Sorry, sir."

"I'll send you the coordinates," John told Dean gruffly. "I need you and Sammy to go ahead, scout the area…I'm gonna be a little delayed here."

Dean frowned. "Delayed?" he wondered, worried. "Is everything okay?"

"Fine," John waved off his concern curtly. "Just a loose end I've gotta deal with."

"Oh…Anything I can do to help?" Dean asked.

"No, just head over to the job, Dean," John ordered. "And Dean? We're going incognito for a while – just until I settle things over here. So, no Calling for anyone – no witches, no Whitelighters. Got it?"

Dean frowned, hesitating. "But…If things are really that bad, maybe they can help?" he suggested.

"No, I can handle it on my own," John insisted. "I'm serious, Dean. Incognito."

"Look, Dad, if you don't wanna get Aunt Piper involved, we can just ask Lynnie," Dean told him, missing his girl like crazy and knowing that she could handle whatever it was John threw at her. Her powers had grown so much in recent years, and she was more than capable of keeping a secret for the Winchesters, even from her own family. "She can help, Dad."

"Dean!" John barked, his anxiety at the possibility of his plan crashing down around him before he could even properly formulate it making him sound harsher than he intended to. "Do as I asked. Don't ask questions. Not about this."

"Yes, sir," Dean conceded quietly. "I'm sorry."

A stab of guilt made John reel back. I'm sorry, kid, he thought ruefully. It's for your own good. It's for their good, too. I hope you see that one day.

"It's fine," John cleared his throat, attempting a gentler tone. "Look, just hunker down, okay? I'll send you the co-ordinates, you and Sammy head on down and lay low. I'll be there soon. Once everything's settled, you can call Lynnie. Okay?"

"Okay, Dad," Dean sniffed, straightening his back. "We're hitting the road now. Stay safe."

"You too, son."

John squashed the guilt down, burying it under several tonnes of emotional cement. What had to be done needed to be done. John was no stranger to doing difficult things that no one else could – this was no different except in one very crucial way. It was to protect his son. John would do anything to keep his boys safe.

He sent a quick text to Dean, giving him the coordinates to a town in Kentucky. There was a possible case there, a rogue werewolf if John's research was right – nothing dire, but it would take some time for the boys to reach Kentucky from where they were. John needed that time.

Not wasting any time, the moment Dean sent him a confirmation text to tell him he and Sam were on their way, John cast a simple shielding spell – it wouldn't last and it definitely wouldn't keep away people as powerful as the Halliwells for long, but it would do in a pinch until he could get a more permanent solution.

The spell took an hour of John's time. Once it was over and done with, he grabbed his cell phone and dialed a number that he'd rarely had to use but had memorized anyway.

"Talia," he greeted, the moment the person he'd been calling picked up the phone. "I need your help."

"What, no hello? No, 'how've you been'?" Talia teased him, the seductive lilt to her voice doing nothing for him this time. Nothing could distract him from the problem at hand.

"I'm serious," John told her, rubbing a hand down his weary face. "You said that you knew a way to ward off witches, right? Is there a way to ward off Whitelighters, too?"

Talia paused, frowning. "Why would you want to?" she questioned. "A man in your line of work…Having Whitelighters around would be handy."

"I can't explain," he shook his head. "But I need this. Can you help me?"

Talia sighed, shaking her head. "I…Well, there's a ritual…My grandmother should have it," she said, reluctant. "How soon can you get to New Orleans?"

"I can be there by tomorrow morning."

"I'll ask her for the ritual, then," Talia promised. "Though she'll want something in return. She doesn't do favors. It'll cost you, John."

"I'll pay anything," he swore, heart pounding. "Just get it done."

Back in San Francisco, Lynnie crawled back into the warm comfort of her bed, smiling into her pillow as she curled on her side. Bringing her hand to her stomach, Lynnie whispered the epiphany she'd had once she'd calmed down enough to the baby growing inside of her, "Don't worry, baby. Daddy will be so happy to know about you."

Aug 2006

Singer's Salvage Yard

Sioux Falls, South Dakota

Dean stared at the muted TV screen with tired eyes, Scooby and Shaggy running away from the big bad monster of the episode barely registering. He took another swig of his beer, his free hand absently stroking up and down Warren's back. The little girl was curled up on top of him, her hands tucked under her chin as she snored into his chest. She snuffled a little in her sleep, nose brushing against the soft t-shirt he was wearing, and he smiled a little. She was the only thing that had given him reason to smile in over a week, and for that, he loved her even more than before. He pressed a kiss to her hair, inhaling the gentle kids' shampoo that Lynnie used for her.

Lynnie shifted in her sleep, curled up on the couch next to him, her head almost on his thigh as she slept. Bobby's flannel throw was covering her, and she gripped the edges tight, almost shivering as she burrowed underneath. Dean reached out and tucked the throw around her shivering body, watching as the little crease between her eyebrows smoothed out. He'd have to see about fixing the thermostat later. Dean was immune to the cold and Bobby's house practically had no heat, but Lynnie shivered if the temperature went down even by two degrees on San Francisco's sunniest days. He used to joke with her that tolerance to the cold was a hunter thing.

Warren hadn't wanted to spend a single night away from Dean ever since Yellow Eyes had come for her, and he'd indulged her need – she was just a kid, after all, and what had happened had to have been terrifying. Besides, focusing on her gave him a way to avoid thinking about his own dad, and it gave him an escape from Sam's puppy dog eyes and empathetic looks and desperation to talk about their feelings.

It's been a little over a week since Dad had died, and Dean had done his best to do the stiff upper lip thing. Things had gotten so much worse now. And, after the bombshell Dad had dropped on him before he died…It felt like things were picking up. A war was brewing, drawing nearer by the day, and Dean could feel it in his bones. He just had no idea what it was about or who the major players were or even where to begin to win it. All he knew was that he'd never do what Dad said he might have to.

He caught sight of the clock on the wall. Almost six in the morning…Sam would be there at any minute, back from his daily morning jogs (God, how were they related?), and Dean would much rather avoid the awkward 'hey, you're here, should we maybe talk and hug and cry together' moment he knew would happen the moment his brother saw him there.

Pressing another kiss to Wren's forehead, Dean gently scooped her off of his chest and laid her down next to Lynnie, pulling the throw over both of them. Wren frowned in her sleep but her mother's arm around her tiny body kept her in dreamland.

He ignored the sounds of people waking up in the house – he could hear Bobby calling out for Wren not to run down the stairs, Sam calling out to both Bobby and Lynnie as he came back from his run, even smell the bacon frying for breakfast. His stomach grumbled weakly, but his hunger was pushed aside easily – food was barely a thought these days. His only sustenance most days was the beer he kept well stocked in Bobby's fridge. He was careful, though. He never ventured into heavier liquors and he never got so stupid drunk that he'd let his kid see him wrecked. He even forced down a few bites of real food here and there to soak up the alcohol.

Dean tuned out the world around him as he worked hard on restoring Baby. One week and she was already looking much better than the absolute wreck she was after the car crash. A thought crossed his mind to teach Wren how to fix up Baby, and he could almost see it in his mind's eye – her dressed up in a pair of tiny overalls, wrench too big for her in her hand, a focused look on her face as she listened to him talk about carburetors and valves. Smiling slightly at the image, Dean was brought back to the present when a memory of his own dad teaching him flashed across his mind.

Shaking himself out of it, Dean exhaled loudly and slid under the hood. He ignored the loud voices he could hear coming from the house, even ignored the sound of his little girl giggling at Bobby's teasing (she had really taken a shine to Bobby, and the old man practically beamed with joy whenever Wren was in the room, and their seemingly instant bond had made Dean happier than he could have hoped for at a time like this), putting his focus purely on fixing his Baby.

He didn't hear the footsteps until it was too late to run, so he hid under the car, working furiously in a non-verbal hint for his brother to leave him alone.

Completely ignoring his hint, Sam stopped just a few feet shy of Dean and Baby, and asked, "How's the car coming along?"

"Slow," Dean grunted.

"Yeah? Need any help?" Sam asked tentatively – Dean was even more repulsed by emotion or any show of support this past week. It had been tough on him, walking on eggshells when he was dealing with his own grief, but he knew his pain was nothing compared to Dean's. Despite his recent fight with their Dad regarding Wren and Lynnie, Dean idolized the man. Sam loved their father, but his love could never compare to what Dean had felt for John Winchester. Sam had seen their Dad as just a man, with flaws and imperfections. Dean saw him as a hero, whose mistakes were forgotten the moment they were made.

Dean dropped the torque wrench he was holding to his side, picking up a different wrench. "What, you under a hood?" he scoffed. "I'll pass."

Sam took in a deep breath, rocking back on his heels. "Need anything else, then?" he tried to ask as casually as he could.

Annoyed, Dean pushed himself out from under the car. Standing, he gave Sam a half glare, unable to muster up enough energy for a full blown one. "Stop it, Sam," he growled out, his irritation clear.

Sam rolled his shoulders back, putting on a neutral expression. "Stop what?" he asked innocently.

"Stop asking if I need anything," Dean snapped, trying to reign in his temper. It felt like he'd been suppressing everything since his father had dropped dead in Lynnie's living room, and if he gave into his anger now, he wouldn't be able to draw it back. "Stop asking if I'm okay. I'm okay. Really. I promise."

Sam didn't believe him – and, if he was a weaker man, he wouldn't be pushing. Dean lashed out when he's hurt, and sometimes, he lashed out where it hurt the most. Sam liked to believe he had a healthier grasp on his emotions than Dean or his dad, though, and he knew that they needed to talk about what happened – if not to heal, then to figure out what to do next.

"Alright, Dean," he scoffed, shaking his head as he stared at Dean's back, his brother ignoring him in favor of sorting through the tools on the rusted table to the side of Baby. "It's just…We've been at Bobby's for over a week now, and you haven't brought up Dad once."

Rolling his eyes, Dean turned to face his little brother, rag in hand as he wiped away the grease on his hands. "You know what? You're right. Come here. I'm gonna lay my head gently on your shoulder," he snarked. "Maybe we can cry, hug, and maybe even slow dance."

Sam threw him an irritated glare. "Don't patronize me, Dean," he scowled. "Dad is dead. The Colt is gone. And-and you're acting like nothing happened."

"What do you want me to say?" Dean demanded.

"Say something, alright!?" Sam snapped at him. "Hell, say anything! Wren was possessed by that thing!"

"Yeah, I remember," Dean said sharply, giving Sam a warning look. The last thing he wanted was to rehash that night.

"Do you?" Sam challenged. "'cuz you haven't talked to her about it. Not once. I mean, did you even notice she's been having nightmares?"

"I'm the one she cries out for when she gets scared at night," Dean slammed his hand on the table, making the tools scattered on it rattle. "Of course I noticed."

"Well, then, maybe you should pretend to be a better father than dad was to us and actually talk to her about it," Sam shot at him, knowing it was a low blow even before the words left his mouth. The hurt look on Dean's face right before he schooled his expression into a neutral one had Sam sighing, shaking his head, remorse dousing his anger for the moment. "I'm sorry, Dean. I didn't mean that. You're a great dad."

"Well, thanks for the validation," Dean turned his back to Sam, going back to sorting his wrenches and sockets.

Sam ignored that, ploughing on insistently, "Aren't you angry? Don't you want revenge? But all you do is sit out here all day long, buried underneath this damn car!"

"Revenge, huh?" Dean scoffed.

"Yeah!"

"Sounds good," Dean shot back sarcastically. "You got any leads on where The Demon is? Making heads or tails of any of Dad's research? Because I sure ain't. Not even the Halliwells can track It down. But, you know, if we do finally find it – oh, no, wait…Like you said. The Colt's gone. We've got nothing, Sam. Nothing, okay? So, you know, the only thing I can do? Is I can work on the car."

Sam watched as Dean crouched down next to the Impala again, getting back to work. "Look…the Colt's gone, but the Halliwells…Nothing beats the Power of Three, right?" he theorized. "We can use the Halliwell's magic. They'd help, Dean. We'd figure out another way to kill it."

Dean ignored him, staying silent.

Sam sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. He knew Dean was done talking about The Demon and Sam would let him be – at least for now. They had something else they could focus on for the time being, anyway.

"Look, I didn't just come out here to fight," Sam said placatingly. "I got something, alright? It's what I came out here to tell you. This is one of dad's old phones. Took me a while, but I cracked his voicemail code. Listen to this."

Dean stood, reluctantly taking the phone from Sam. Pressing on the button to replay the voicemail message, Dean's brows furrowed together as he listened to the voice of a woman he had never heard of before, "John, it's Ellen. Again. Look, don't be stubborn. You know I can help you. Call me."

"That message is four months old," Sam told his brother.

"Dad saved that chick's message for four months?" Dean raised his eyebrows, stunned. Dad didn't hold onto junk – not even virtual ones. He didn't keep anything anyone sent him – firstly because it would be too easy for demons to track down people you knew and used them against you if you kept anything of theirs like pictures or voicemails, and secondly, Dad just wasn't a sentimental man.

"Yeah," Sam said, meaning lacing his answer.

"Well, who's Ellen?" Dean frowned. She didn't sound like she wanted to see their Dad due to personal reasons. He wondered what 'Ellen' thought she could help Dad with. Maybe she was a psychic or a witch that Dad sometimes sought help from – he had quite a few contacts like that, especially after they'd lost touch with the Halliwells. If she had been one of those contacts, Dad would have written about her in his journal. "Any mention of her in Dad's journal?"

"No…But I ran a trace on her phone number," Sam smiled slightly. "And I got an address."

Dean jutted his chin out, thinking it over.

Sam was right – they'd been stuck at Bobby's for over a week now. He was going a little stir crazy. He wasn't sure he was up for meeting any of Dad's old contacts or even to get back on the trail for The Demon, if this Ellen chick was telling the truth about being able to help.

Dean also didn't want to leave Wren alone for too long. She was still traumatized by what happened, and she'd been clinging to him more than she clung onto Lynnie. The first day after, she had a panic attack when she'd woken up and he'd been in the shower. But he knew that he couldn't coddle her forever. He had a dangerous job, and her mother was a magnet for evil – Wren would have to deal with even more messed up things than a possession as life went on.

But the part of him that remembered Sam shaking in fear at night when they were little, remembered his own sleepless nights as he waited for Dad to come home safe from a hunt, remembered what it felt like the first time he'd had to help sew up a wound or watch as Aunt Paige Healed his dad from what would've been a fatal injury…Yeah, that part wanted to wrap Wren up in a hundred blankets, keep her tucked in his arms and never let go, just staying inside Bobby's house for the next fifty years.

Still, they had to keep going at some point. And if they were chasing down leads, futile as Dean believed them to be, then there was less of a chance for Sam to come at him at every corner, asking to 'share his feelings' like they were a bunch of thirteen-year-old girls.

"Ask Bobby if we can use one of his cars," Dean decided.

Bobby, as it turned out, didn't have a problem with them taking one of the cars in the junkyard, though he warned them that he only had one car that was up and running at the moment. "Ellen Harvelle," he'd nodded knowingly once he was given the first name and the location. "It's a hunter's roadhouse you're going to. Ellen's a good woman – you can trust her."

Before they could leave, though, Bobby had insisted Dean sat down and had breakfast first. "Wren insisted on making you smiley face pancakes," he told Dean in a low voice. "Sit down, son. Eat something."

So, Dean had showered and changed, sitting at Bobby's kitchen table only to have a stack of chocolate chip pancakes put in front of him. His stomach churned a little, but he smiled at Wren when she climbed into his lap.

"Aw, you helped Bobby make these?" he asked her, kissing her top of her head.

Wren beamed at him, sitting sideways in his lap so she could reach her arms up to hang around his neck. "Nope," she shook her head, curls flying everywhere. "I helped Mommy. Grandpa Bobby said he can't cook worth a darn."

Lynnie shot Bobby a look, but he only shrugged it off. "Hey, I already made it PG," he defended.

"Well, thanks, Wren, this is great," Dean smiled at his girl. Catching Lynnie's eye, he gave her a small smile, too, "Really."

Lynnie blinked at him, the soft look on her face making his heart clench a little too painfully. He looked away, taking in a deep breath as he grabbed his knife and fork to get started on his pancake stack.

"Baby, let your dad eat," Lynnie encouraged, stepping forward to move Wren out of Dean's lap. "Come on, sit next to him."

Wren's arms tightened around Dean's neck, and her smile turned quickly into a displeased scowl. "No, Mommy!" she protested, burrowing into her father's chest.

"Hey, it's cool," Dean said, waving Lynnie off. "Wren can help me finish this monster stack, huh?"

Wren cheered, reaching for the maple syrup. Dean kept a close eye on her – she tended to go overboard with the syrup. Last thing he needed was to be the dad who got his kid possessed and on their way to suffering through childhood diabetes under his watch.

Dean did his best to focus on nothing but Wren during breakfast, but his mind kept drifting. All he could think about was his dad and if looked at Wren for longer than a few seconds, he could see her eyes flash yellow. It hurt too much to think about that day, but at the same time, he couldn't stop thinking about it.

His heart raw, Dean held his daughter close, an immense feeling of gratitude towards his father for sacrificing his life for Warren. He had no idea how he'd survive if he'd had to build a child-sized pyre for his own kid. He wasn't faring any better, having had to build that pyre for his dad, but losing Wren would have destroyed him. For all that they'd fought about, everything they'd disagreed about, Dean forgave every mistake that John Winchester had ever made, and he hated that he hadn't had the chance to say that while Dad was still alive. He hated that his forgiveness was overshadowed by his utter heartbreak over what Dad had told him just moments before committing the greatest act of love Dean had ever seen in real life.

"Dean," Sam called out to him, and Dean turned to look at his little brother as he dried his hands, plates washed and put away. "We gotta…" Sam tilted his head to the side inconspicuously.

Dean nodded, jostling Wren in his arms a little to get her attention. She looked up, abandoning her interest in his switchblade he'd left on the table to smile at him. He couldn't help smiling back – she was his little angel, no doubt about it.

"Listen, buddy…I've gotta head on the road for a little bit," Dean broke the news, gentle but firm. It had been Bobby's way of doing things when he and Sam were kids and though he'd been a lot gruffer than Dean thought of himself, he knew that he should probably take cues from Bobby and Leo when it came to being parental.

Wren frowned, dropping her eyes from his gaze. "Are you going after the Black Smoke?" she asked, voice small and worried.

Dean ran his hand through her impossibly soft hair. "No," he promised, though he knew eventually he'd have to break that promise and not just to hunt Yellow Eyes, either. He was a hunter, after all. It was in his blood. "But Uncle Sammy and I…We need to go find someone."

"Can I come?" Wren asked hopefully.

"Aw, it's gonna be a long, boring ride, kid," Dean let her down gently. "Besides…Who's gonna keep an eye on Grandpa Bobby if you come along?"

That last bit was said with a tinge of amusement, an almost playful look shot Bobby's way. For his part, Bobby scowled good-naturedly, adjusting his baseball cap as he growled out, "Careful, boy. I've been around a lot longer than you. I don't need no babysitter."

"That's true," Dean nodded sagely. "Bobby's so old, he once had a pet dinosaur."

Wren giggled into Dean's shoulder, sparkling eyes dancing with mirth as she chided him, "That's not true, Daddy! Dinosaurs lived a thousand billion million years ago! I learned all about it in school!"

"You sure?" Dean teased, tickling her sides a little. Once she'd calmed down enough, Dean gave her another kiss on the forehead, urging her to go wash her hands so she could get started on her coloring time. "Look, don't worry about it, Uncle Sammy and Daddy will be back by dinner time, okay?"

Wren wasn't happy, the smile on her face as they'd eaten breakfast and joked around together long gone, replaced by a sad frown and a wrinkle between her eyebrows. She clung onto Lynnie's jean-clad legs and stared after Dean forlornly as he pulled out of the salvage yard in the only vehicle that would survive a mini road trip.

Lynnie waited with her daughter as they watched the station wagon disappear from view. The anxious look on Wren's face worried her – she had a feeling that Wren's utter reluctance to see Dean go was linked with her worsening nightmares. She hadn't moved past what had happened. Not that Lynnie blamed her. It had only been just nine days, after all. They hadn't even hit double digits yet. She knew there were full blown grown-ups who never recovered from a demonic possession.

Terror gripped at her heart. She knew that Wren was a double threat – a Winchester and a Halliwell. It was in her blood to battle evil. She would do it without blinking an eye, too, just as Lynnie did, just as Dean did. But Lynnie didn't know what it felt like to be possessed by something pure evil. She didn't even vanquish her first demon until she was seventeen. Dean, on the other hand, putting together his own sawed-off at the age of eight, killing wendigos when he was ten, having a favorite firearm by the time he was sixteen…Being so exposed to supernatural evil from such a young age changed you. She didn't want anything to change her little angel into something other than the pure, happy bubble of joy she'd been the past five years.

Prying Wren's fingers off of her legs, Lynnie crouched down so she could look into her baby's eyes. "Hey, I have an idea," she grasped Wren's hands in her own, playfully swinging their interlocked fingers. "Why don't we go home for a little bit?"

Wren frowned at her, tiny cold fingers tightening their grip on Lynnie's hands. "Why?" she asked petulantly.

"'cuz we haven't been home in a while," Lynnie coaxed, giving her a gentle smile. "I bet Aunt Parker's lonely there all by herself. We could have a girls' day in. Order pizza, watch Harry Potter, drink lots of hot chocolate…Hmm?"

Wren bit her lip, considering. She loved all of those things – but none of them sounded okay for right now. Her tummy hurt, her heart racing, and she just couldn't stop thinking that something would happen to her dad.

"Mommy, can we go with Daddy?" she implored, ignoring her mother's tempting idea.

Lynnie sighed, dropping one of her daughter's hand to gently brush back a few strands of hair from Wren's face. "No, baby, we can't," she reminded her patiently. "Why don't we go back inside, okay?"

Wren only agreed to go back inside the house at the mention of Rumsfeld, Bobby's old dog. She cuddled up to the giant beast on Bobby's ratty old couch, the Rottweiler whining a little when Bobby grouched about him getting his muddy paws on the furniture.

"You're a good puppy," Wren praised him, stroking his fur gently. Rumsfeld was warm and he smelled nice because Mommy had given him a bath just the night before to get all the dirt out of his fur. Rumsfeld panted, tongue lolling out, as Bobby's reprimand is immediately forgotten. He licked Wren's cheek, making her giggle and squirm away.

Lynnie watched them with a smile, wrapping her arms around herself to ward off the slight chill in the air. It wasn't like Sam or Dean made a lot of noise, but without them around for the first time in nearly two weeks, Bobby's house seemed so much quieter for some odd reason.

"She's a great kid," Bobby told her, his eyes fixed on the same scene. Lynnie jumped, having not noticed him right beside her. "I mean it. Most kids…God, they're awful. But she's a good one."

Lynnie smiled, a little pride making her stand just a bit taller. "Thanks, Bobby," she reached out and squeezed his arm. "We're very fond of her ourselves."

Taking in the worried look on the young mother's face, Bobby patted her on the shoulder, "She's gonna be okay, kid. It'll take her some time, but she'll stop being so scared all the time."

Lynnie frowned, giving Bobby an anxious, almost disbelieving look. "You think?" she asked hopefully.

"Ya kiddin'?" Bobby chuckled slightly. "That kid's part you, part Dean. She'll bounce back in no time, fighting fists raised to take down some sons of bitches. You'll see."

Lynnie laughed, shaking her head. "Yeah, that second part can wait until she's at least hit puberty, I think," she reached out and gave Bobby a hug, rolling her eyes good-naturedly when Bobby froze a little. "Oh, man up and take the hug, old man."

Bobby grunted gruffly but his arms came up to hug her anyway, prickly beard hiding his smile. She had been almost as much of a regular visitor to his house when she was younger, and it had never made much sense when she'd just stopped stopping by or calling out of nowhere. He'd only seen Dean a few times after his break-up with Lynnie (before Bobby himself had had a falling out with John and the man had forbidden his sons to go anywhere near Sioux Falls again), and he'd never really gotten the full story back then (though now he knew even Dean hadn't been aware of the full story).

He'd tried once or twice to get in touch with Lynnie and her family, but he'd always stopped before actually contacting them. It was on him that he never thought much of it, never tried harder. He wished he could have done something, anything, to have given Dean the time he'd lost with his kid, but nothing could change the past. He was just glad they were all reunited now, and he hoped Dean and Lynnie could work things out between them someday.

"I'm glad you're back in his life, Lynnie," Bobby told her, his tone gruff to hide his affection. "And it's a good thing he's got that kid in there, especially now."

Wren giggled loudly as Rumsfeld play wrestled with her, as gentle as a he could be. Lynnie's attention was drawn back to her daughter, and her worries faded just a smidge as she watched her daughter rolling around on the couch, overwhelmed by body-wracking laughter as the huge dog barked and wrestled with her, his silly antics seemingly distracting the little girl from her too-adult anxieties for her father.

"Yeah, I think so, too," she murmured, watching on with soft eyes.

Dean could barely contain his eyeroll as he pulled up in front of Harvelle's Roadhouse. The engine squeaked loudly as he turned the key in the ignition, the minivan shaking a little as the wheels stopped turning.

"This is humiliating," Dean said grouchily as he stepped out of the vehicle, careful not to slam the door too hard in case it broke the damn thing and they'd be stuck miles away from Bobby's place with no car to get back in. "I feel like a friggin' soccer mom!"

Sam shot him an unimpressed look. "It's the only car Bobby had running," he reminded Dean for the hundredth time in two hours, reminding himself not to lose his temper with his overly onerous brother. Dean's grieving. Give him space, he repeated his mantra for nearly two weeks now. Looking around the empty parking lot, Sam squinted at the abandoned-looking building they were approaching. "Hello? Anybody here?" he called out cautiously.

Dean patted his pockets to check for Dad's phone and, realizing he didn't have it, turned to his brother, "Hey. You bring the, uh…"

"Of course," Sam knew immediately what Dean wanted, taking the phone out of his pocket and tossing it to Dean. Sam pushed open the door to the saloon slowly, stepping inside cautiously. It looked as deserted on the inside as it did on the outside. It was kind of shabby, too – a light bulb blew just as they walked past it, which would have been odd if half the lights weren't either flickering or dead. The bar was entirely empty, except for a man passed out on top of it.

"Hey, buddy?" Sam called out, but the man didn't budge, letting out a loud snore that at least let them know he wasn't dead. Sam cocked an eyebrow, tossing Dean a look. "I'm guessing that isn't Ellen."

While Sam slowly made his way to the back to have a look around, Dean headed down the steps towards the bar. The place seemed deserted enough to be a bigger dead end to a flimsier lead than he'd originally thought, but at least he'd get some free booze out of it. He was just a few feet away from the bar when he felt something cold and hard against his back.

Closing his eyes briefly, Dean quipped, "Oh, God. Please let that be a rifle."

The sound of a gun cocking did nothing to ease his tension, though he wasn't particularly concerned – clearly whoever was behind him had no clue how to handle a gun.

A voice he'd never heard before said, "No. I'm just real happy to see you." Dean smirked a little – she sounded spunky. He liked spunky. "Don't move," she warned.

"Not moving," Dean assured her. "Copy that. You know, you should know something, miss. When you put a rifle on someone, you don't want to put it right against their back. Because it makes it real easy to do…" he spun around, grabbing the rifle and cocking it. "That."

The girl (pretty, blonde and young, Dean noted idly) didn't lose her stride. Her response was quick – a hard punch to Dean's face he never saw coming. As he doubled over, clutching at his broken nose, she grabbed the rifle back, aiming it right at him.

"Sam! Need some help in here!" Dean hollered, blinking his eyes in pain as blood gushed out from his nose, coating his cupped hands. "I can't see. I can't even see."

The sound of the door opening had Dean turning, only to see Sam stepping out of the backroom, both hands on his head as he entered slowly.

"Sorry, Dean," Sam said, looking more than a little pissed off. "I can't right now. I'm a…Little tied up," he tilted his head to indicate the woman behind him, a handgun pointed at his head.

The woman, older than the one with a rifle pointed at Dean, stopped in her tracks as she processed their names. "Sam? Dean?" she repeated, brows furrowing. "Winchester?"

Sam and Dean shared a look, chorusing their confused reply, "Yeah."

The woman shook her head. "Son of a bitch," she said, awed. She never thought she'd actually meet John's kids – in all the years he and Bill had known each other, they'd never once crossed paths with the grizzled hunter's boys. She understood that, though. Hunters were notoriously suspicious of people. They guarded what little they had with everything they had, and family was the most precious thing you could have to protect, after all.

The blonde girl shot her a look, sensing more to the story than a simple trespassing-gone-wrong. "Mom, you know these guys?" she asked, suspicion still coloring her tone.

Ellen nodded, eyeing the two tall young men in front of her with a keen eye. Yeah…She could see bits and pieces of John in both of them. "Yeah, I think these are John Winchester's boys," she grinned. Lowering her gun, Ellen chuckled, smoky and warm. "Hey. I'm Ellen. This is my daughter, Jo."

Jo, seeing her mother's relaxed stance, lowered the rifle, too. "Hey," she nodded at them.

Dean squinted at her, giving her the most charming smile he could muster with blood pouring out of his nose. "You're not gonna hit me again, are you?" he half-joked.

She gave him a sly smile, tilting her head to the side. Whatever snarky reply she had in store for him, though, was interrupted by a swirl of bright white and blue lights.

"Whoa!" Jo yelped, rifle going up again in defense.

"Hey, hey, lady!" Dean snapped, stepping in front of the swirling orbs. "Watch where you point that thing. You never heard of Whitelighters before?"

"Honey, it's okay," Ellen called out to her daughter. She herself had only met Whitelighters a handful of times in her life, but she'd heard John Winchester had a long-term relationship of unknown definition with the family of White Witches/Whitelighters – the Halliwells up in San Francisco. She hadn't seen the man in a hot minute, but maybe he'd kept up his relations with them even until now.

Jo stood, stunned, as she saw her first Whitelighter in her twenty-two years of life. It was a shocking thing to see such raw power, and when the orbs of lights flickered away, it was an even more startling reveal. Dean's eyes widened when he caught sight of the little Whitelighter who shouldn't be orbing across state lines just yet.

"Wren!" Dean rushed forward, dropping to his knees in front of her, grabbing her by the shoulders and shaking her gently. "Wren, what are you doing here!? Is everything okay?"

"I Sensed something wrong," Wren replied, wide eyes locked on his bloody nose. "Daddy, did the Black Smoke come back?" her lip trembled.

Dean shook his head, confusion and relief warring inside of him. "No, no, I'm fine," he assured her. "You sure you're okay?"

Wren nodded, wrapping her arms around his neck in a tight grip. "I thought you were in danger, Daddy," she explained. "I wanted to help."

Dean sighed, slowly climbing to his feet as carefully as he could so he wouldn't dislodge his precious cargo. "Listen, we've talked about this, Wren," he chided gently. "Sometimes, Daddy's gonna be in danger. But nothing's gonna happen to me. Okay?"

"Really?" Wren asked dubiously.

"Really," he promised. "I've got Uncle Sammy to watch out for me."

Wren eyed the other man worriedly. "But what if something happens to Uncle Sammy?" she wondered. "Then what?"

"Well, I'll watch out for Uncle Sammy," Dean grinned at her. "And he'll watch out for me, so that way, we both make sure nothing happens to the other person. It's a fool proof plan."

Wren's worried frown didn't lessen. She laid her head on Dean's shoulder, reaching one tentative finger to touch him gently on the nose. Even that stung a little, but Dean gave no reaction at all, not wanting to scare her more than she was already.

"The Black Smoke really didn't come back?" Wren asked anxiously.

"Nah," Dean shrugged casually. "This is the handiwork of that blonde lady over there."

Wren glared over at Jo, who held up her free hand in a sign of peace. "Hey, I thought he was the bad guy," she said defensively, actually finding the whole kid interaction thing adorable, though she'd never say that to this Dean guy's face. She knew that hunters, especially the guys, had extremely fragile egos.

Wren gave her a patronizing look that was almost out of place on the face of a child her age. "My Daddy is not the bad guy," she scolded Jo. "My Daddy is a hero."

"Noted," Jo nodded, giving Wren a conciliatory smile. "Hero dad. My bad."

There was another swirl of bright lights, Lynnie's worried face the first thing Dean saw when the orbs disappeared from view.

"Oh, my God," Lynnie breathed, squeezing her eyes shut in relief as she saw her daughter cradled in Dean's arms. "Warren Piper-Mary Winchester-Halliwell! What in the hell do you think you're doing!?"

Wren shrank back into her father's arms, scared. She had never, ever seen her Mommy that angry before.

"L, come on," Dean started placatingly.

Lynnie turned to glare daggers at him, frowning. "Don't you start, Dean!" she held up her hand. "I turned my back for one minute and she was gone. Didn't you think to Call?"

"Well, how was I supposed to know you didn't know?" he widened his eyes.

"She's five years old, Dean! Why would I let her orb somewhere alone? I don't even let her cross the street alone!"

"Uh, guys?" Sam interrupted them loudly, clearing his throat. When the two of them snapped their attention to him, he flicked his eyes between Ellen and Jo. "Could we…Maybe talk about what we came to talk about?"

"Right," Dean reached into his pocket and pulled out Dad's phone. "You left a message on our dad's phone, Ellen. We need to know what you meant."

Ellen quirked an eyebrow, bristling a little at Dean's tone. He was gruff and unapologetic – a lot like John. And she wasn't so thrilled that he sent his boys to her instead of coming himself. She was offering her help, after everything that had gone down. The least he could've done was shown up himself.

Still, whatever issues she had with John-Friggin'-Winchester was with him alone. She wasn't going to start transferring her issues to his sons. Neither of them deserved it.

Giving a reassuring smile to the little girl doing a fabulous imitation of a barnacle as she clung onto her father (she had never been close to John Winchester and had never even met his sons, but shouldn't this have been news? He'd had a kid with a Halliwell, after all, and those were the two biggest names in the White Witch and hunter communities, respectively. She hadn't heard a peep about a mini-Winchester-Halliwell until the little girl had orbed her way into her dinky little roadhouse), Ellen sighed loudly.

"Sure thing," she conceded. "But let's get some ice for that nose first, huh?"

Lynnie blinked, as though suddenly aware of Dean's injury. Feeling a stab of guilt at not having realized it sooner, too overwhelmed with relief, panic and anger at Wren's disappearing act and subsequently locating her, reached out to cup Dean's cheek in one hand. His eyes fell on her, and she felt herself get swept away into the green abyss, her thumb gently stroking as close as she could to his bloody nose.

Dean's eyes fluttered a little as he felt the familiar warmth of her Healing touch, his nose righting itself painlessly. Lynnie was looking at him with those big, beautiful brown eyes and all he wanted to do was hang on to this – his little family, imperfectly perfect, just him, his kid, the girl he swore to win back and his little brother – hightail it back to Bobby's house and just hide out for the rest of their lives.

Reality, in the form of Ellen's voice, pulled him back to the ground.

"Or, maybe, just a towel to wipe off the blood," Ellen grinned. "I've only seen a Whitelighter Healing someone once before this. Still amazing to watch."

Dean watched Lynnie's cheeks turn red, embarrassment at being caught during such an intimate moment. She snatched her hand back, barely able to look at Ellen and Jo in the eye as she gave them half-smiles.

"Hi," she laughed awkwardly.

"This is Ellen," Sam introduced. "Her daughter, Jo. We just got here so we haven't really talked about anything."

Lynnie pursed her lips and nodded. "Okay, well, I'll let you guys get to it," she shot Dean an apologetic look, reaching out to take Wren from him.

Wren tightened her arms and legs around Dean. "No! Mommy, I stay here!" she protested.

"Honey, Daddy has to work now," Lynnie tried to reason.

Wren batted her mother's hands away. "Daddy's not working," she argued obstinately. "There's no monsters here. No Black Smoke. Daddy's just hanging out. I can hang out. I'm big enough to hang out now. Daddy, tell Mommy I can hang out."

Lynnie knew, without a doubt, that if she pried Wren off with force, she was going to have a kid in the middle of a temper tantrum in front of two strangers. Frowning, she steeled herself to just snatch Wren and orb the hell out of the roadhouse – perks of having supernatural powers, she supposed – but Dean caught her eye, shaking his head.

"Hey, it's okay," Dean assured her, voice low. "She can stick around for a while. Sammy can talk to this Ellen chick."

Ellen, watching the sweet interaction with a smile, interjected, "Yeah, look…"

"Lynnie," Lynnie introduced herself, shaking first Ellen's hand, then Jo's.

"Lynnie," Ellen nodded. "The bar ain't open, but I was just cookin' up some burgers for lunch. You and…Wren, was it? You can stay for lunch. How about that?"

"I love burgers," Wren offered, smiling toothily at Ellen. Just like her father, food was the way to her heart. "Cheeseburgers rule!"

Ellen grinned right back at her, putting her at ease, "I agree, sweetie."

Lynnie was about to protest – Dean and Sam had to find out what Ellen knew about John's mission, and Wren shouldn't be imposing on someone else's lunch plans – but her phone rang and she jumped, startled out of her swirling thoughts.

Shooting Dean a meaningful look (hoping that he'd get the message to subtly encourage Wren to get back to Bobby's with her), Lynnie stepped aside to answer the call.

Wren blinked innocently at her father, giving him a shy smile when he quirked a knowing eyebrow at her. "Can we have burgers now?" she asked.

Dean sighed, looking around the place. So he was the kind of father to bring his child to a dingy roadhouse for a meal. Good to know. It was hilarious how he'd once ever thought he'd be a better dad than John Winchester. Maybe they should give it twenty years and he'd be the one telling Wren to kill her yet-to-be-conceived younger sibling when the time came.

"Dean," Sam called out, jarring him out of his darkened thoughts. "C'mon, we've gotta work this out."

Jo stepped forward. "Look, she can come with me," she offered.

"I don't know you," Dean glared at her.

She held up her free hand in a gesture of peace. "We'll be right over there," she pointed to the arcade machines to the side of the bar. "We'll play a few games…You'll have your eye on her the whole time."

Frowning, Dean glanced down in surprise when Wren squirmed in his arms. It had been a while since she'd wanted out of a hug. Agreeing on pure shock alone, Dean watched with wide, round eyes as Wren took Jo's hand and almost dragged her across the room to where the arcade games were, eager to learn and play.

"Come on," Ellen jerked her head towards the bar. "I'll get you that towel. And maybe a couple of cold ones."

Dean climbed onto the one bar stool that had the arcade games in full view, keeping one constant eye on Wren as she danced around on her tiptoes, giggling loudly as Jo taught her how to win fast and dirty. Ellen handed him a wet towel and he gave her a distracted half-smile. "Thanks," he muttered, bringing the towel up to wipe at his bloodied nose.

Sam, seeing that Dean was completely distracted by his daughter, gave Ellen an apologetic look and what he hoped was a smile amiable enough to get her to open up. "So…You called our dad, said you could help. Help with what exactly?"

Ellen gave him a blank stare. "Well…The Demon, of course," she said, brows wrinkling together. She had a look on her face that told him she thought this should've been obvious to them. "I heard he was closing in on it."

Her words were enough to pull Dean's attention from Wren temporarily and he shot an annoyed look Sam's way. "What, was there an article in the Demon Hunters Quarterly that I missed?" he quipped sarcastically. "I mean, who…Who are you? How do you know about all this?"

"Hey, I just run a saloon," Ellen held up her hands defensively. "But…Hunters have been known to pass through now and again - including your Dad a long time ago. John was like family once."

Dean scowled a little, disbelieving. "Oh yeah? How come he never mentioned you before?" he challenged.

Ellen rocked back on her heels, flashes of the last time she'd ever seen John Winchester flashing through her mind. Their argument about what had led to her husband's death will forever haunt the recesses of her mind. "You'd have to ask him that," she countered, steel in her voice as she tried to collect herself from the grief that she knew she'd never escape from.

Sam snuck a look at his brother, whose back had stiffened, and eyes grown cold at the thought of never being able to ask their Dad anything ever again. A glance at Ellen told him she hadn't noticed Dean's sudden shift, so Sam cleared his throat to get her attention on him lest she happened to look Dean's way and catch the abrupt chill in the air.

"So why exactly do we need your help?" Dean asked before Sam could say anything.

Ellen bristled at the tone of his voice. She'd been reserving her judgment on the boys, not wanting to treat them the way she would if John himself had walked through the door, but Dean was exactly like his father, from what she'd seen of him so far. Brash, impatient, rude and loud…He was a carbon copy of his dad.

Guilt at any unfair treatment she might have towards him thrown out the window, Ellen glared at him with enough heat to make a lesser man wither under her gaze. "Hey, don't do me any favors," she snapped at him, careful even in her anger to not raise her voice so much that it would attract the attention of the precocious little girl just a few feet away from them. "Look, if you don't want my help, fine. Don't let the door smack your ass on the way out. But John wouldn't have sent you if…"

She trailed off, the pained expressions on both the Winchester boys' faces making her pause, a startling suspicion sinking low in her gut. "He didn't send you," Ellen stated rather than asked. Dean looked down at the bar top, lowering the blood-stained towel from his face. His eyes darted towards Sam briefly, but Ellen caught the look they shared, loaded with meaning. Heart thudding in preparation of bad news, Ellen exhaled loudly. "He's alright, isn't he?" she asked, eyes darting from one brother to the other.

Dean clenched his jaw, averting his gaze from his brother and turning a keen eye back on Wren. Knowing that his brother wouldn't be able to answer, Sam did it for him, "No. No, he isn't." Giving Ellen a strained smile, Sam explained, "It was The Demon. It, uh…There was a…I-it just got him before he got It, I guess."

"I'm so sorry," Ellen frowned, surprising herself with how emotional she was getting. John's words the night he came to tell her about her Bill flashed in her mind – "We're hunters, Ellen. No matter what, at some point in our lives, we all go out the same way."

Dean, uncomfortable at the empathy in her voice and the sympathy on her face, shifted awkwardly in his seat. "It's okay," he brushed off her condolences. "We're alright."

"Really?" Ellen frowned, disbelieving. Jo had been much younger than Dean when she'd lost her father, but it can't be easy losing a parent, especially one you loved. Jo had been inconsolable for weeks. "I know how close you and your dad were."

God, my head's gonna explode if she doesn't shut up, Dean thought, irritated. This was surely some kind of hell, where hunters were forced to hold hands and talk about their feelings. "Really, lady. I'm fine," Dean snapped, shooting her a warning look.

Ellen looked like she might say more, but Lynnie rushed towards him, a frantic, frazzled angel he desperately needed.

"Dean, I have to go," she said urgently, an anxious look plastered on her porcelain face. "That was work. There's a massive pile-up on the highway. They need all hands on deck."

Dean frowned, throwing a furtive glance at Wren over Lynnie's shoulder. His girl was still happily battling aliens with Jo, completely unaware of this little wrench in her plan. Of course, Dean had known this day would come eventually – there was no way in hell Lynnie could take a permanent sabbatical from work for the unforeseeable future. Even if they allowed it, she wouldn't want to. She loved her job. Being a Charmed daughter gave her life meaning and purpose just as much as being a nurse did. She wouldn't give it up for anything.

Not that she should. Wren was going through a tough time, but their kid was a tough one. She'd bounce back sooner or later.

"I need to get Wren back home," Lynnie bit her lip, wrapping her arms around her middle and shifting to stand next to Dean's seat so she could look over at Wren. "Or maybe I can ask Parker to come over to Bobby's…"

"I can take her," Dean offered immediately, and the part of him that wasn't nearly as much in denial as the rest of him was quick enough to realize that maybe Wren wasn't the only one clinging tight. He was using her as a crutch, too, holding onto her as though she was a life raft keeping him from drowning. He hated that. Kids should never bear the responsibility of being their parents' sobriety check.

But the bigger part of him, still wildly in denial over everything that had happened since they'd walked into Lynnie's apartment nearly two weeks ago, shut out the rational argument his brain was weakly trying to make.

"We can hang out here for a bit," Dean blinked, shaking away his darker thoughts.

Lynnie stared at him balefully. "You want me to leave my five-year-old kid in a bar?" she frowned at him.

"I'll be with her the whole time," he countered. "Look, I'm not planning on going anywhere. We'll hang out here a little, maybe I'll take her out for some ice-cream…Then we'll road-trip it back to Bobby's."

Lynnie pursed her lips. "You sure?" she wondered, heart racing at the possibility of an easy answer. "What if…You catch a lead or something?"

Dean frowned. He hadn't really thought much of it. He wasn't sure if this Ellen chick had anything to offer at all. If she did have something, Dean wasn't so sure he wanted to go chasing after The Demon just yet. He needed time. He needed to catch a breath.

"I'll get her to Bobby's," he promised the mother of his child, unwilling to think too much about getting back to work. "She'll be fine."

Lynnie sighed, shaking her head as she agreed to it. It wasn't as though she had any other choice. Calling for Wren, she watched as Jo paused the game, bumping knuckles with the little rascal Lynnie loved with her entire heart and soul.

"C'mere, baby," Lynnie dropped to her knees in front of Wren, straightening out the flannel she'd chosen to wear over her denim overalls. "Listen, Mommy has to go back to work at the hospital. They really need help there right now."

Wren frowned. "Do I have to go?" she asked, eyes darting over to Dean in a desperate plea.

Lynnie smiled. "No, look, why don't you stay here with Daddy for a bit," she took Wren's hands in hers. "You can ride in the Impala back to Bobby's house later."

Wren grinned widely. "Okay!" she agreed easily. Lurching forward, she fell onto Lynnie for a big hug. Lynnie barely caught her in time, rocking back on her heels at the sudden force. "Stay safe, Mommy, okay?"

"Okay," Lynnie grinned, feeling her heart expand three times its size, overflowing with love for her little girl. "I love you so much."

"I love you, too, Mommy," Wren giggled as Lynnie squeezed her into a tight hug, pressing kisses all over her face. "Mommy!"

Lynnie stood, giving Dean a meaningful look. "Anything at all, Call me, okay?" she begged.

"We'll be okay," Dean promised, reaching out to take her hand, squeezing it in comfort. "Go. Me and my little buddy here…We're just about to have burgers for lunch."

"It was really nice meeting both of you," Lynnie smiled at Ellen, nodding at Jo as she approached the bar. Good manners her parents had raised her with wouldn't have let her leave without saying anything to the two women.

"You, too, sweetie," Ellen grinned at her.

"Sorry I pointed a gun at you," Jo shrugged slightly.

"I've had worse," Lynnie waved off her apology.

Wren climbed onto Dean's lap, watching her mother orb away. Ellen plated up their burgers and even poured her the only non-alcoholic beverage they had in the fridge that wasn't past its expiry date (grape soda). Jo kept her company with a game of Go Fish (Wren had orbed it into her hands, straight from the living room of the apartment back at San Francisco, much to Jo's amazement) while Sam got the conversation back on track.

"Look…About the message you left our Dad…" Sam implored, looking over at Ellen with those puppy dog eyes Dean knew would break the woman's tough exterior. "If you can help, we could use all the help we can get."

"Well, we can't," Ellen tilted her head in Jo's direction. "But Ash will."

Sam's brows furrowed together in confusion. "Who's Ash?" he asked, lost.

Ellen gave a little half-grin, calling out loudly, "Ash!"

Sam and Dean turned, startled, as the man they'd first seen passed out on one of the empty tables jerked awake, scrabbling loudly against the wooden surface. Flailing a little, he looked around, squinting against his hangover.

"What? It's closing time?" he slurred.

Sam cocked an eyebrow. "That's Ash?" he asked wryly.

"Mm-hmm," Jo said with a smile, snapping her fingers in mock dismay as Wren won another round. "He's a genius."

Dean rolled his eyes. "A genius," he repeated disbelievingly.

"You'll see," Jo jerked her chin at Sam, urging him to trust Ash with whatever he needed.

Dean watched warily as Ash stumbled towards the bar, Ellen pushing him the biggest glass of water anyone's ever seen to sober him up while Sam trudged on, offering the least amount of information he could to get Ash just enough to get started on what they needed to track down Yellow-Eyes. This could be it, a part of him marveled.

He rebelled against the idea and, pushing away his plate of half-eaten burger, he sidled closer to his daughter. "You got a deck of real cards on you?" he asked Jo. When she produced the deck, Dean grinned. "Deal 'em out. C'mon, kid. I'm gonna teach you one of the oldest American games – poker."

So this chapter ran a little longer than expected. I'm gonna split this episode into two which is just odd considering there's not much of the canon episode in these two chapters at all. We're mostly dealing with the fallout of YED's attack and John's death, which we've barely even begun to touch upon beyond Dean's denial and simmering anger, and Wren's utter fear and clinginess. We'll get to the good parts soon – or, at least I hope you'll think so, too.

Please leave a review to let me know what you think of this chapter. I live off of your kind words, I truly do. Thank you for reading!