AUTHOR'S NOTE: EmilyAnnMcGarett-Winchester, stacy40, wandamarie, Luvreading67, fanclaire, Tumblr-Tidbits, noilyprat, and WalkersGirl, thank you for the reviews! Content warning for feels- this chapter gets more emotional than I had originally planned! Enjoy!

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When I came into the kitchen the next morning, Daddy was standing at the sink, staring out the window. He turned around and smiled at me. "Hey, kiddo. How'd you sleep?"

"Okay." I said. "M' sorry about last night."

"C'mere." He set his coffee cup down and beckoned me. I went over to him and he put his arms around me. "You know that after you've been punished, it's clean slate, right? You don't have to keep apologizing."

I looked up at him. "I still feel bad."

"Well, try not to. I've put it behind me, what's done is done, and you know what you did wrong and dealt with the consequences. Right?" He tweaked my nose.

"Yeah, I guess. Can we have our talk?"

He let me go, chuckling. "I forgot how direct you can be." He said. "You want some waffles?"

"Yes please!" I sat down at the table. There was a plate with crumbs on it at his place.

He put two waffles in the toaster and handed me a plate and utensils. Once he had put the waffles on my plate, he refilled his mug and then sat down across from me.

"So, what did you want to talk about?" Daddy asked. He took a sip of coffee and set the mug down, one hand wrapped loosely around it.

I hesitated- he was looking at me calmly, but would that change? "The stuff that the hunters were saying yesterday."

"Which stuff? There was a lot that got talked about. And no, you will not convince me to let you become a hunter, so don't even go there."

That made me feel a little annoyed, since I wasn't going to talk about that! "You said you were gonna teach me how to defend myself-how come you never told me that?" I asked accusingly.

Daddy dropped his eyes to the table, an uncomfortable look on his face. "Well, I guess...I guess it was in the back of my mind, but I didn't want to bring it up."

"But why not?" I pressed. I cut up my waffles and poured syrup over them and took a bite.

He shifted, playing with his fork. "It's just…" he sighed heavily and then ran his hand over his face. "Because it means a loss of innocence for you. And I feel like you've had so much taken away from you, in such a short time, that I didn't want to add to that."

"What does that mean?" I frowned. "What innocence?" I took another bite of waffle.

He looked at me. "When Sam was a kid, I tried my hardest to give him a childhood, because I didn't have one. I tried to keep what our Dad really did a secret, all the hunting stuff and monsters and all, and I managed it for a few years. And when Sam finally found out, he was really upset and scared at first. It took a while for him to get into hunting. And seeing his face-his hurt, and his betrayal, because I basically had been lying to him about what Dad did for years- that was really hard for me. It took a while before he forgave-" Daddy closed his eyes for a long moment. When he opened his eyes again, they were shiny, and he looked away from me, blinking rapidly for a moment. "I know it's different with you in that you already know about the supernatural, but still, the more you learn about it, the more innocence you will lose, and I don't want that. I don't want you to become hard and cold like I did."

"I won't, Daddy."

He shifted his gaze to me. "You'll have to. It's part of dealing with the supernatural world, divorcing yourself from what you're doing, that you're taking the life of a creature when you hunt, even if it's something that is harming people. It's tough to deal with when you're young, but it's necessary when you hunt, otherwise you end up feeling like shi-like crap because you killed a sentient being."

"I never thought about it like that." I said quietly.

"Well, I never wanted you to have to think about it." He gave a humorless chuckle. "I don't want you to hunt, but you do need to learn some self-defense techniques, and in order to understand the why of some of it, you'll have to know about some of the creatures and the things they do, and how to-how to get rid of them. And I don't know if you're ready for that."

I started to say that I was ready, but he held up his hand and kept talking. "No, Charlie, I don't want you to be ready for that. Because it can get ugly. Sam had nightmares for quite a while after he found out, after he started hunting. I've had nightmares after certain hunts. And I don't want that for you, sweetheart. You don't- you don't deserve to have your- your self dirtied with all the nastiness that is hunting. Do you understand?" He reached across the table and took my hand. His eyes were wet again.

"I-I guess." I said. "But then how do I learn?"

He sighed. "I don't know. That's another thing, I think I've been putting it off, because I still-I'm still in denial about you-about your powers. And I'm really realizing that I need to support you, one hundred percent." He squeezed my hand and then let go. "I haven't been, and I'm sorry." He looked down at the table like he expected me to be upset.

"But how would supporting me be different, I don't get it?" I frowned again.

He looked up at me. "I'd be actively working to make sure that you were learning as much about your abilities as possible and practicing what Missouri taught you, instead of assuming that you were going to keep it under control and that other people would keep an eye out for you." He looked off into the distance. "Yeah, I realize now how messed up it was that I got mad at Sam over that thing at the mall. I was thinking you'd be able to resist temptation and assuming that he'd be right there hovering over you and keeping you from giving in to your impulses, instead of realizing that you're still a kid who needs a lot of guidance and it's not his job to police you all the time. It was my job to be talking with you about controlling your impulses and dealing with your abilities, and I haven't been." He made a face, and then focused on me again. "So I'm going to be trying to learn how to work with you and guide you, all right?"

"Okay." I wasn't sure what that would look like, but I was willing to give it a try. "Are you gonna tell Uncle Sam that?"

He raised his eyebrows at me. "Why would I tell him?"

"Because you guys never really talked about it, did you?"

He laughed. "That's not-that's not what we do."

"But Daddy, you talk to me, and you make us talk stuff out. Why not with Uncle Sam?"

He shrugged. "It would be-we just don't do that."

I gave him puppy dog eyes. "Would you do it for me? Please?"

He laughed again. "Look at you, bringing out the big guns. All right, kiddo, I'll try it, for you." He took a drink of his coffee. "Is there anything else you want to talk about?"

Now I fiddled with my fork. "Yeah…" I stared at my plate. "How did-how did the other hunters know about the changeling? I thought hunting was s'posed to be a secret. Did you or Grandpa John tell other hunters about it?" I looked up at him.

He sat back in his chair. "Well, I'm not really sure what happened. If you remember, I was in the hospital with you. I, personally, felt like I didn't really want the case to be talked about, because it was my family that it happened to, and I know some hunters are that way if they happened to be wrapped up personally in a case. Others don't feel that way, and they'll talk about everything."

"Do Grandpa John and Uncle Sam feel that way?"

"There have been times in the past that...there's been-personal involvement in a case, and yes, at the time, we were all closed-mouth about it. I don't know if they told people about the changeling, I would think that they didn't, because I know they were just as worried about you as I was. However, I know that Dad talked to other hunters to ask for advice and whatnot, and of course, other hunters talk, and they may have heard about the changeling and put two and two together."

"It just-felt weird-knowing that they knew about what happened."

"I know. But we don't know how much they actually knew about everything, do we? They might have only heard that Dad killed a changeling, not that you were rescued from one and then spent time in the hospital."

I remembered something else from the conversation. "Daddy, do you-have you-have you had to hurt demons in the past? Why do you have to do that?"

He pressed his lips together, an uncomfortable look on his face again. "Well, Charlie, here's the thing. Demons are wily-" He stopped and shook his head, and then scrubbed his hand over his face. "Yes, there have been times in the past that I have had to-to hurt them, while questioning them. It's-it's a way to get them to answer questions. It's not something that's pleasant, and it's the last thing I ever want to do, but I have done it. And I really don't want to discuss it any further."

"But why do you have to hurt them? Can't you just talk to them?"

He blew out a breath. "All right, this is the last thing I'll say about it. You remember that kid, Mikey, who was at your mom's funeral and the meeting later, he hit you, and you told me he was really mean to everyone and would deliberately say and do things that were mean, on purpose? That's what demons are like. They're like-like really bad kids who only want to hurt other people, and they will say and do things that are mean and hurtful, and lie a lot, on purpose. And they do it to distract you from what you're asking, and to get you off balance, and so sometimes, we have to-do certain things to keep them from being like that."

"Like-like hurting them?"

"I'm not going to talk about it any more." He rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger, and then took a long drink from his mug.

"Does anyone know about Castiel?" I asked.

"No." He shook his head. "We all agreed to keep that under wraps, because I doubt that anyone would believe us, for one thing, and then they'd want proof, and it could get really weird after that."

Grandpa John came into the room just then, yawning. His hair was rumpled and he was wearing yesterday's clothes. He walked over to the coffeemaker and poured himself a mug.

"Well, well, look what the cat dragged in." Daddy said dryly. "That coffee's a couple hours old, might want to make a fresh pot."

Grandpa John took a drink. "I'll finish this first."

"Have fun last night with your new gal pal?" Daddy smirked.

Grandpa John gave him a look. "Yes, Dean, I enjoy Pamela's company. How are you, darlin'?" He came over to me and ruffled my hair.

"I'm okay." I said. I polished off my waffles- they were cold now, but I didn't mind.

He set the mug down and then started a new pot of coffee. "You should probably try to work on some schoolwork if your head's not bothering you." He told me.

"Aww, do I have to?"

"Yes, you should." Daddy gave me a look.

Grandpa John put two slices of bread in the toaster. "Anyone want any toast?"

Daddy stood up, picking up his plate. "No, I'm good."

"I'm done too." I said. Daddy held out his hand for my plate and I handed it to him. He set them in the sink and then picked up his mug and put it on the counter next to the coffee maker.

The doorbell rang. Daddy and Grandpa John looked at each other, and then went into the living room. I followed them curiously.

Daddy opened the door. "Hi, Sheriff Mills, how are you?"

"I'm doing okay." I heard her say. "Mind if I come in?"

"No...what's this about?" Daddy stepped back. I could tell by his voice that he was a little suspicious.

"Hey, John, Charlie, how's things?" She nodded to each of us. "How's your concussion, Charlie?"

"I get headaches a lot, but it's getting a little better." I said.

She nodded. "That's good. Last thing I heard about the Williams' case is that they're not going to rely on Charlie as a witness, since her memory is not intact from the concussion, so I guess she's off the hook."

"Oh, okay." Daddy sounded relieved.

She held up a manila folder. "Turning to another case, I have some...reports and photos...which might be of interest to you. Now, I can't let you have these for any length of time, I kinda snuck them out of the coroner's office, but if I were to set this folder down and then leave the room, I can't control whether or not you look at them. If you catch my drift."

Daddy and Grandpa John nodded. She walked over to the coffee table and put the folder down. "Where's your restroom?" She asked.

"Down the hall on the right." Daddy said.

As soon as she left the room, Daddy grabbed the folder and opened it. Grandpa John was right next to him, looking at whatever was in there. He removed a piece of paper. "Victim had a 3 mm puncture wound…" He muttered, and then stopped talking. "Dean, find the photo that goes with case number 155-CM43."

Daddy flipped through the papers and then pulled one out, printed on heavier paper. "Here it is." Just then, the papers slipped out of the folder onto the floor.

I saw a couple of papers that said "Coroner's Report" at the top, and there were some large photographs. One of them was a closeup of the back of a person's neck, with a little red scab at the hairline.

"Dammit!" I heard Daddy say as he shuffled the papers in his hand.

He and Grandpa John bent down to grab the papers and photos. Daddy looked at me as he stood up. "Did you see anything?"

"Uh-just a picture of a scab on some skin." I said.

"You okay?"

I nodded.

"All right." Daddy nodded at me. "You go sit at your desk and do some school work or something while we're dealing with this."

I really wanted to stay right there so I could hear them talking! But I knew Daddy would get upset with me, so I went into the dining room. I turned the touchpad on and scrolled through the last assignment I had done.

I could hear papers being shuffled and Daddy and Grandpa John talking in quiet voices. I couldn't make out anything they were saying, though. A couple minutes later, I heard footsteps, and then Sheriff Jody's voice. "Get what you needed?"

"Yes, thanks a lot, Jody." Grandpa John said. "Would you like a cup of coffee?"

"I'll have to take a rain check this time, I've got some errands to run." She replied.

"Thanks for stopping by." Daddy said.

"No problem, good to see you all."

I heard footsteps and then the front door opening and closing. Daddy came into the dining room. "How's it going? What are you working on?"

Impulsively, I blurted out, "My head hurts just from looking at the screen!"

Daddy frowned. "Hmm...Sam suggested that if the screen bothered you, we could print out your assignment. Which one are you on?"

I tapped the screen and found the next math assignment. "This one." I held the touchpad up.

"All right, let me take this back to Grandpa John's room and see if I can figure out how to connect it-" he muttered, looking at the sides of the touchpad. "I'll be back, Charlie."

I rested my head on my folded arms and swung my feet as I waited. I felt a little bad about saying my head was hurting. But...maybe I wouldn't have to do as much work if I kept saying it hurt.

A few minutes later, Daddy was back with some papers in his hand. "All right, printed out the next two math assignments. Give it a try and let me know how your head feels after you do the first one. If it starts to hurt worse, let me know. I'm going to be in Grandpa John's room looking through some notes and stuff." He set my touchpad and papers down, and then leaned down to drop a kiss on top of my head.

I sighed and picked the papers up as he left the room. I shuffled through them, trying to see how many pages each assignment was. And then I saw it-mixed in with the papers was a typed sheet of paper. The top said "V. Hackett notes on Golden Years Retirement Facility:"

I stared at it for a moment- this must've been in the printer and they didn't notice! I felt mixed up- on one hand I shouldn't look at the notes, but on the other hand, I was really curious! I decided to read a little bit of it and if it got gross or scary I'd stop. I started to read.

"11 subjects reported feeling more tired/run down than usual over a period of 5 weeks.

They had daily interactions with nurses, cafeteria staff, PT and OT, and housekeeping. (names on next sheet)

It was reported by 7 of them that they recalled feeling worse after PT with a specific person, but it was a distinctive type of feeling. It didn't feel like a medication side effect or the physical exhaustion that comes from PT.

Mrs. P., Mr. Van D., and Mrs. M. all reported seeing "colors" around one of the PT staff (Georges Delamore) but their descriptions were discounted as they are all suffering from forms of dementia.

Mrs. P. regularly has conversations with people who have passed and it's assumed that that's an aspect of her dementia. Tried to talk to her relatives to find out if she had had any sort of psychic powers when she was younger, but none of my calls were returned.

Was not allowed to talk to the patients- staff said it would be too upsetting for them.

Mr. Van D. kept talking about Mr. Delamore being "dark", became agitated during and after PT. Ended up attacking Mr. Delamore. Mr. Van D. began to decline rapidly until he had another stroke, ended up in a coma and then passed away.

Mr. Delamore left suddenly, did not come into work and left no forwarding address. Checked out his apartment on Brewer St.- 3rd story walk up, already furnished. Appeared not to have been lived in for quite a while- no food in fridge, dust on the counters and dresser, no personal effects. Could have been a fake out?

Georges Delamore Soc. Sec. #594-01-6349

This social security number does not exist.

Landlord showed me photocopy of driver's license from Jackson Hole, Wyoming- FAKE

No forwarding address, contact numbers are all disconnected or go to busy signals.

Burner cell phone.

This guy knows how to hide his tracks, has contacts to help him make fake documents. Who in Wyoming makes fake IDs? Does Ash know anyone in that region?

Delamore wore size XL scrubs and was reported to be about 6 ft. Brown hair medium length, brown eyes, thick eyebrows, cleft in chin.

Mr. Van D. COD- stroke

Mrs. R COD- aneurysm

Mrs. G COD- could not get death cert.

Mr. F-

I set the paper down, realizing I had read through the whole thing. My mind was spinning now- colors around a staff member? Could they mean auras? What if I could help them out, since I was still seeing auras? But Daddy still got very grumpy when I had mentioned in the past about helping on a hunt. I didn't want him to get mad at me or scold me. Could I ask Grandpa John about it, or Uncle Sam? Maybe they'd let me help and convince Daddy that I could. But then… I had just read a paper of notes about a hunt, instead of giving it back to them as soon as I had realized what I had. Would they be upset with me? Maybe if I gave them the paper now, they wouldn't be mad. I could just tell them I didn't read it. But what if they didn't believe me? My head started to hurt as I tried to consider all the possibilities. I had a lot to think about- the talk I had had with Daddy, and now all the information I had just learned about the hunt. My mind felt overloaded, like a shopping bag stuffed full. I put my head down on the desk and closed my eyes.