AUTHOR'S NOTE: Glad you're still with me! All will be revealed...

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Dean Winchester was a hunter. He drove a classic muscle car that he had rebuilt from the ground up, he listened to classic rock, he had a trunk full of weapons and could shoot a bow and arrow just as well as he could fire a rifle. He had salted and burned hundreds of bones, sent demons back to hell, and ganked vampires, wendigos, and rugarus. He was one tough bastard, and his reputation preceded him.

Today, however, he was at "The Building Blocks Learning Center" to pick up his daughter. He'd had a fling 4 years ago- one of many that year- that had resulted in pregnancy. Liz had called him when she was in the middle of the second trimester. He'd started sending her money when he could, and tried to make it out to see her a couple of times. He'd managed to make it to the last ultrasound appointment before she gave birth, and the sight of that little baby moving her arms and legs on the black and white screen filled him with a feeling he'd never felt before.

He'd missed the baby's birth. He'd been deep in the mountains of Colorado hunting a pack of werewolves. In the end Sam and he had had to call in other hunters for help so that they could all work together to take the pack down. He'd had no cell phone reception and been so intent on tracking the creatures that he hadn't thought about Liz. She wasn't due for another three weeks anyhow.

When he came down off the mountain, his phone had buzzed for a solid 10 minutes with all the text notifications and voice messages she'd left.

His heart had opened up the first time he'd held his baby daughter, and he'd sworn to give her whatever she wanted and do whatever it took to give her a good life. One that didn't involve hunting supernatural creatures. He'd insisted that he and Sam hang around the area where Liz lived for several months, only taking hunts that would take them a day or so away. When the baby was a few months old he began taking her on weekends, and that continued for a long while. He and Sam had gotten involved in some business that had taken them to the West Coast for a couple of months, but Dean always came back to see his daughter. She knew he was her Daddy and he spent as much time with her as he could.

As time went on, though, it seemed like the hunts lasted longer, or ended up being further away, and so for the past year and a half, there had been weeks go by that Dean hadn't seen his daughter. He and Liz had worked it out that whenever he came into town he'd take Charlotte for up to a week and spend time with her, but now it was a little awkward at first. Charlotte would be shy and a little reticent for a while, and then she'd act out so that he'd have to set limits with her, and then everything would be okay. Liz was a very permissive parent, she let Charlotte basically run things. She barely had any rules, and she didn't enforce the ones that she made. Dean wasn't like that- he'd never sat down and thought about what kind of parent he'd be, but he found himself falling back on how his father had treated them, and his expectations. You did what Dad said, because he made rules and gave orders to keep you safe. Things that had annoyed him when he was younger now made sense to him. Being on a strict sleep schedule was one of them-when you're hunting you can't be tired and out of sorts, you've got to pay attention to everything. A kid needs to go to bed at the same time every night because if they stay up all hours, they end up cranky the next day.

Dean stood inside the doorway of the preschool classroom and watched as his daughter got her backpack and jacket out of her cubby. She approached him slowly and looked up at him. "Hi, Daddy," she said shyly. It had been almost a month since he had seen her.

"Hi, kiddo," he reached out to ruffle her hair. He took her hand, and turned to leave the room. Several kids called out, "Bye, Charlotte!" as they left.

An older woman with short graying hair stopped him at the end of the hall. "Hello, Mr. Winchester, I'm Mrs. Madison, the director. I wanted to make you aware that Charlotte's tuition...hasn't been paid in almost 3 months."

"Oh," Dean said with surprise, "I'm sorry, I send money to her mother-"

"Yes, she mentioned that- I just wondered if you could talk to her, we've sent a few notices home with Charlotte-"

Dean nodded and took the envelope she was holding out. "Yes, I will, and I'll get some money to you when I bring Charlotte back."

"Thank you. Bye, Charlotte, have fun with your father."

"Bye Mrs. Madison," Charlotte said as they walked out.

Dean felt annoyance rise up in his chest, at Liz. She wasn't responsible with money either, he gave her cash for Charlotte, and bought her things all the time, he'd paid for a toddler bed a couple of years ago and a new dresser, and he'd also started to pay for the preschool that Liz had insisted that their daughter go to. Dean now had a duffle bag full of clothes and toys in his trunk, amidst all the weapons and tools, because no matter how much clothing he bought for Charlotte, when Liz would pack her a bag it was haphazard and often full of dirty or too-small clothes. Dean got tired of having to run out after he'd picked Charlotte up and buy her new things, so he'd gotten a bunch of supplies.

He buckled Charlotte into her car seat and then got in and turned to her. "So how has school been going?"

She had lowered her head, and she glanced up at him. "It's okay," she said, still shy.

"What have you been doing? Working on your writing?"

"Uh, yeah...I c'n wite my name now!" she said proudly.

"That's great!" Dean beamed at her, "I can't wait to see it," he turned and started the car, pulling into traffic to drive to their hotel.

When they pulled into the parking lot, she asked, "Is Unca Sammy here?"

Dean pushed down the pang of jealousy that he felt. "He'll be coming in tonight," he told her.

As he opened the back door, he saw that she had already unbuckled herself and was standing in the back of the car.

"Charlotte, what did I tell you before? You are not supposed to unbuckle yourself," he reminded her sternly.

"But why, Daddy? I a big giwl, I can do it my-sef!"

"Because, it's not safe, and because I told you not to," He lifted her onto the ground. "Stay right there," he said, going around to the trunk. He got out a couple of duffles, and they walked to the room.

He set the bags on the dresser, and then opened the envelope that the director had given him, to see how much money was owed. Charlotte wandered over to the t.v. and found the remote, turning it on and climbing onto the sofa.

There was a knock on the door, and Dean hurried over, peering out of the peephole. Sam stood on the other side of the door.

"You're early," Dean said as he let Sam into the room.

"Yeah, traffic was really light," Sam said, slinging his duffle onto the floor.

"Unca Sammy!" Charlotte crowed, jumping off the sofa and running over to him. Sam crouched down and opened his arms, and the little girl jumped into them and threw her arms around him.

"Hi, Charlotte!" Sam said happily, hugging her.

She pulled back and looked at him. "You got anyfing fow me?"

"Hmm...I don't know..." Sam grinned at her so that his dimples showed, "I guess you'll have to check my pockets." This was something he did every time Dean picked Charlotte up, he always had a little present for her hidden on one of his pockets.

She reached into his right jacket pocket and pulled something out. It was a tiny purple purse in the shape of a butterfly, and she gasped.

"Open it," Sam told her.

She unzipped it, and pulled out a small packet of tiny plastic barrettes. "Ooh, I wove dem, Unca Sam! Fank you!" she exclaimed, hugging him.

Sam laughed and hugged her again, and then let her go and stood up.

She held the package up. "Put some in, wite now! Pwease?"

"Okay," Sam walked over to the table and sat down in a chair. She handed the package to him and turned, standing in front of him.

"Which ones do you want?" Sam asked.

"Ummm...da pink bows!"

Sam ran his fingers through her hair and pinned her hair back on the sides of her head with the barrettes.

"Fank you!" Charlotte said again, beaming, "Wook, Daddy! Wook at my hair!"

"You look very pretty," Dean said to her. He felt jealous again, Sam somehow had this easygoing way with Charlotte, and she adored him. Not that she didn't like Dean, but he was 'Daddy'' which meant that he sometimes had to be 'the heavy' and enforce rules and punish her when she did something wrong, which she hated. She wasn't used to rules or boundaries and it was always a fight at first to get her used to the way Dean did things. He wondered what she was going to do to push boundaries this time, and dreaded it, because it would usually mean scolding and tears.

Charlotte waited until later to misbehave. She opened up while they ate dinner at the diner, telling them about things she had done at school, and counted to twenty for them, and sang the ABC song a couple times. They enjoyed listening to her chatter about everything.

They walked into the motel room, and Charlotte pulled out the mint that the waitress had brought with the check. "Can I has it now, Daddy?" she asked coyly.

"No, Charlotte, what did I say?" Dean asked, "Give it to me, and you can have it tomorrow," he held his hand out.

She curled her hand around the candy. "But I want it NOW!"

"No, sweetheart, you already had dessert, and you don't need candy right before bed."

"I not gonna go to bed wite now!" Charlotte glared up at him.

Dean tried to make his voice patient. "I didn't say you were going to bed now, but it will be time to start getting ready soon."

"No! Not gonna go bed, I wanna eat my candy!" She ran across the room, over to the bed farthest away from them, and scooted into the area between the wall and the bed.

He walked over to her. "Don't you eat that candy," he said in a warning tone.

Sam followed Dean over, and looked at the little girl. "C'mon, kiddo, listen to your Dad," he said easily.

"But Unca Sammy, I wike candy!"

"I know you do, but it's late, and you don't need candy right now. You need a healthy snack at bedtime."

"Come out of there right now, and give me the candy," Dean said firmly.

Charlotte set her jaw stubbornly and he knew he'd said the wrong thing. She responded to Sam better because he always used that easy tone with her, but too often he found John's Winchester's stern bark coming out of his mouth.

Charlotte started to unwrap the candy, and Dean vaulted over the bed, and pulled it out of her hand.

"No, Daddy, gimme it!" she wailed, bursting into tears.

"I told you no, young lady," Dean said sternly. He picked her up, carried her over to the table and set her in a chair, then pushed it over to the wall, facing the corner.

"Time out," he said decisively. He glanced at his watch to note the time.

"Nooooo!" she howled, as tears poured down her face. After a moment, she turned around and glared at him, then started to slide off the chair.

"Don't you dare," his voice was deeper, which made her pause. She kept staring at him, and slowly eased her body off so that she was standing next to the chair.

He reached down and picked her up, plunking her back on the chair, and she wailed again.

"Sit down," he said firmly.

She kicked the rungs of the chair, and then said, "No!" in a snotty tone of voice, and slid off the chair again.

"Charlotte-" he said warningly. She glanced at him and started to walk away. He picked her up and set her in the chair again, and she turned around and climbed off of it right away.

"All right, that's it," Dean said, picking her up. He swatted her bottom once, and she began to cry harder. She buried her face in his flannel, and he felt awful that she was crying because of him.

"You need to do what I tell you," he said, still firm.

"Daddy I sowwy!" she wailed.

He hugged her to his chest. "All right, it's okay." he walked over to the sofa and sat down, setting her on his lap. She sniffled and put her arms around him, leaning her head on his chest.

"You listen to me from now on, huh?" he looked down at her.

"Yes, Daddy," she agreed.

Sam sat down next to him, holding a pink and purple backpack. "Hey, Charlotte, let's look through here and you can pick some books for us to read at bedtime, okay?"

She sniffled and sat up, looking at Sam. "'Kay," she said, but she didn't move off of Dean's lap, which he was glad about. She went through the backpack with Sam, and they decided on three books to read. This was part of the routine that they always did with her, and all three of them enjoyed it.

Charlotte behaved for the rest of the evening, sitting with them while they watched t.v., and then she got ready for bed when Dean told her to. She sat between them on the bed, and Dean read her one book and Sam read her two, and then they both hugged her and kissed her. Dean saw her watching them as they sat on the sofa with bottles of beer, watching a movie, but she didn't make any moves to get out of bed.

Dean stared down at his daughter, who was laying down on the ground, kicking and screaming. She'd had tantrums before, but never one like this. They had spent the day at the zoo, and all day it had been, "Mommy don't make me hold hands," "Mommy wets me wun ahead," "Mommy say I can eat whatever I want," and "Mommy buys me what I want." Charlotte had almost had a tantrum when Sam tried to insist that she get apple slices instead of french fries at lunch, and he had managed to derail the fussing by convincing her to eat the cucumber slices from his salad. Dean was tired of telling Charlotte, "Well, I do things differently than your Mom." He knew she was pushing against the boundaries to see what he would do, but he wished she wouldn't keep doing it.

Their last stop was the playground so that Charlotte could run around before the long car ride back to the hotel. Dean had told her, "It's time to go now," and that had caused her to throw a massive tantrum.

He leaned down and extended his hand to her. "Come on, kiddo, get up. Let's leave and we can stop for dinner on the way home."

"No!" she slapped at his hand, and rolled away, crossing her arms.

"Charlotte, let's go," he said firmly.

"No, I not wanna go! I wanna stay an' go back to see da effants!" Charlotte loved elephants and had insisted that they stay at the elephant habitat for a long time. Sam had bought her a small stuffed elephant as well, and she had carried it tucked under her arm the whole rest of the time. Now, it sat a few feet away from her.

Dean walked over and picked it up, then held it out to her. "Come on, take your elephant and let's leave. We can talk about what you want to name him."

Charlotte grabbed the stuffed toy from him, and then threw it at him as hard as she could. It bounced off his knee and rolled away. "No! I not goin'! I gonna stay hewe, an' you can't make me go!" she huffed and set her jaw, a sign that she was angry.

"Okay then," Dean picked up the elephant and handed it to Sam. "Charlotte doesn't want this, I guess you'd better return it to the store, Sam."

"Nooo! Gimme!" She stood up and ran over to Dean, and then pummeled his legs with her small fists.

He squatted down and grabbed her wrists. "You need to calm down," he told her seriously, "That's enough, now. We're leaving."

"Nooo!" she threw her body backwards, and collided with a small toddler who was walking behind her at just that moment. The younger child fell onto her back with a startled whoop, and then she began to cry loudly.

A woman hurried up, leaning down and picking the crying baby. She gave Dean a dirty look. "You need to get control over your kid, mister," she snapped.

"I'm very sorry, ma'am," Dean said, "Charlotte, say you're sorry for knocking the little girl down."

"No!" Charlotte yelled.

"All right-" Dean picked her up. "C'mon, Sam, let's go."

As they walked to the parking lot, Dean tried to ignore the stares of the other people at the zoo. Charlotte continued to scream and twist in his arms, and he felt his face burning with embarrassment. He knew the little girl was tired and that's what a lot of this was, so he was trying to cut her some slack.

Trying to buckle her into her carseat was like trying to dress an octopus. She kicked and struggled, and he had to give her a shake and scold her, which caused more crying. Finally they were all buckled and he was driving out of the lot. He glanced back at her in the rear-view mirror, "Hey, where would you like to go for—young lady, what are you doing?" he snapped. She had unbuckled herself and had turned around in the car seat, staring out the back window.

"Charlotte, you have about 5 seconds to sit your butt back in your seat and buckle up." he said threateningly.

He watched her, and she glanced over her shoulder at him and then returned to looking out the back.

"Charlotte, that's not safe," Sam said to her.

Dean pulled the car over into a parking space and turned to her. "Do I need to start counting?" he asked her, "If I get to five and you're not buckled, you will be getting a spanking," he warned. He counted, growing more and more frustrated, and when he got to five, he got out of the car and walked around to the back. He got in and took her arm, turning her to face him. "What did I tell you, young lady?" he asked.

"Mommy wets me sit inna back seat on my own!" she told him.

"Well, things are different with me, and we've already talked about this. Getting out of your car seat is dangerous, and I will not allow it. Come here," and he turned her over his lap. Dean was willing to let some things slide, but not doing something potentially dangerous. To him, something like this needed a serious, immediate consequence. She burst into tears the first time he brought his hand down on her bottom. He gave her rear end a few sharp swats, and then picked her up and started to hug her, but she pushed him away.

"Nooo! I not wike you anymore, you a mean Daddy!" she sobbed.

"I'm sorry you feel that way," Dean said.

"Me on'y wike Unca Sammy! Not you!" She turned away from him.

"All right, fine. Get in your seat," he said. She climbed into her carseat, and he buckled her in. By the time they turned on to the highway 15 minutes later, she was asleep, with her head back and her mouth open slightly.

Sam sighed and looked over at him. "Man, that was rough," he shook his head.

"She's tired, we had a big day," Dean said, "and she's still pushing me a little."

"I know, I just wish there was some other way she could deal with that besides misbehaving like she does," Sam looked at Dean like he was considering something.

"What?" Dean asked.

"You know, you do a great job being patient with her. Dad would've swatted our asses the second we threw ourselves down on the ground."

Dean shrugged. "I feel like I let things go on for too long most of the time."

"No, you deal with things pretty well. I know you feel like you're too stern, but I think you only do that when she needs it."

"Thanks, Sammy," Dean said warmly.

Charlotte woke up when Dean got her out of her seat. She put her arms around his neck and rested her head on his shoulder as he carried her inside their motel room. "I sowwy I was bad, Daddy," she murmured.

"It's all right, sweetheart, I know you were tired," he said, kissing her forehead, "We're going to order pizza tonight, all right?"

" 'kay," she agreed, "C'n I have my effant?"

He set her down, and Sam walked over to her and handed her the stuffed toy.

"Fank you, Unca Sam," she said solemnly. She hugged him, and then walked over to Dean and tugged on his leg. He squatted down and looked at her. "What's up?"

"I wanned to say, I do wike you, Daddy. Bof you an' Unca Sam."

"Well, I'm glad to hear that, Charlotte," Dean said, "I love you, sweetheart."

She leaned forward and hugged him. "I wove you too, Daddy," she buried her face in his neck, and his heart swelled with love.

Sam was in the restroom when the delivery man knocked on the door, so Dean had to answer it, holding Charlotte on his hip. The delivery man was chewing on a candy bar when the door swung open, and he grinned at them. "Aren't you a cute little thing?" he said to Charlotte, and she buried her face in Dean's neck, overcome with shyness.

"She's got your eyes, dude," the man said to Dean, wiggling his eyebrows.

"Thanks, here, keep the change," Dean pulled out his wallet and removed a couple of bills, handing them to the delivery man.

"Charlotte, I have to put you down so I can take the pizza," he said, and he put her down. He took the pizza boxes and stepped back.

"Bye! Have a good night!" the delivery man grinned at them as Dean closed the door.

"That was...odd..." Sam commented as Dean carried the pizza over to the table.

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Dean parked the car at the curb and turned the engine off. He turned around to look in the back seat. "Ready to go see your mom? Hey, what's wrong?" he asked with concern as he saw his daughter. She was sitting with her head lowered, and he could see tears dripping off her cheeks.

She looked at up him. "Wanna stay wif you, Daddy," she said, and her voice broke.

"Aww, well..." Dean tried to figure out what to say. Charlotte usually did get a little sad when he dropped her off with her mother. He had had her for the longest time, this time around, 10 days. He'd been ready to take her back after a week, but Liz had called and asked him to keep Charlotte for a couple more days. Dean felt closer to his daughter than he ever had, he had really enjoyed spending time with her.

"Can I wive wif you an' Unca Sammy?" Charlotte's voice was plaintive.

"No, we...we move around a lot, and...the things we do...it would be too hard to have a little girl along with us," Dean said apologetically.

"But, Daddy, I'll miss you!" Charlotte wailed, and then she burst into loud sobs.

Dean got out of the car and pulled her out of the car seat, holding her and hugging her tightly. He rubbed her back and shushed her until she was calm.

"Ready?" he asked, and she nodded. He picked her duffle up out of the back seat and they walked up to the apartment building.

Dean noticed that the apartment smelled funny, like it hadn't been cleaned in a while. There were several large bags of trash by the kitchen door.

"I've not been feeling well," Liz told him, taking a sip of wine, "Hey, sweetie!" she said brightly to Charlotte. "Go and see what I got for you!"

This was Liz's technique, to distract the little girl with presents so that she didn't have to deal with Charlotte getting upset.

Charlotte held tightly to Dean's jacket. "Wanna stay wif Daddy."

"Oh, okay...so how was it?" Liz asked.

"It was fine. We went to the zoo, and the aquarium, and went bowling and played min-golf," Dean told her.

"Must be nice to just do fun stuff with her all the time and not have to really be a parent," Liz said in a snarky tone.

Dean felt himself getting defensive. "I was a parent too, Liz, I'm not all buddy-buddy with her. I have to remind her of the rules and boundaries every time I get her."

"She has rules here!" Liz snapped.

Dean scoffed. "Yeah, that you don't-" he stopped, and exhaled, "I'm not going to get into that with you. Charlotte, why don't you go check your room, I've got to talk to your mom for a minute," he set the little girl down, and after she looked at him for a long moment, she left the room.

Dean pulled the bill from the preschool out of his pocket. "I was stopped on the way out of school when I picked Charlotte up, they said her tuition hadn't been paid in almost three months...where's the money going?" Dean folded his arms and looked at Liz.

She shifted and stared at the floor. "Money's been tight, I needed it...for other things!"

"Dammit, Liz, the money I give you is supposed to be for Charlotte and her school and all, not for you to spend however you want!" Dean exploded.

"I'm not using it for whatever I want, it's for bills!" Liz glared at him.

"Well, if you're having issues with money, that's one thing, but you shouldn't be using the money I give you for our daughter for other things! That's lying, and I don't appreciate it! From now on, I'll pay the tuition directly to the school," he told her firmly.

She folded her arms. "Fine...be that way," she turned and walked into the kitchen, pouring herself more wine, "You can leave now."

Dean walked to the end of the hall. "Charlotte, I have to go," he called.

The little girl had been standing right inside the doorway of her room, and Dean was certain that she'd listened to them arguing. Charlotte came barreling up the hallway, her face tight with worry, and threw herself at him. "Daddy don't goooo!" she wailed, as he picked her up. She threw her arms around his neck and sobbed.

He looked at Liz, who was downing another glass of wine, and wondered if maybe he should talk to Sam about trying to take Charlotte with them.

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I heard knocking on the door and hurried over to look into the peephole. There was a family standing at the door of the Jones's apartment, two doors down and across the hall, all of them with their arms full of wrapped boxes and gift bags. I watched as the door opened and Mrs. Jones let them in. "Merry Christmas!" I heard her say happily.

I got down off the stool and kicked it to the side, feeling my throat tighten. I wanted to burst out crying. We had nothing this year, not even a tree. Aunt Janice had left to go visit relatives across the country. Mommy had had another treatment, and she wasn't doing well again. She had been too tired to go out and do things like shop for a tree or decorate, or anything like that, and now, she was "down for the count", like she said.

"This treatment's kicking my ass, Lottie, and I'm gonna be down for the count for a while longer," she'd say, trying to smile at me.

I heard her coughing in the other room, and hurried in, hoping she wasn't going to start throwing up again.

"Hey, sweetie," she said, after she'd stopped coughing. Her lips were very dry and cracked. "Do we have any ginger ale?" She propped herself up on her elbow, and I noticed that there were several clumps of hair on her pillow. She looked at my face, and then turned her head.

"Yeah, it's been happening more often," she said with a little laugh, "I'm wondering if I should just shave it all now."

I swallowed. "I—I dunno, Mommy. We're out of ginger ale, want me to go get some?"

She laid back down. "Yeah, my stomach- it's awful, so much pressure, and the nausea just comes in waves-"

"Okay, I'll be back in a little bit." I walked to the kitchen and got the canister out that held cash for things like this. I took some bills and shoved them in my coat pocket, then locked the door and went down to the mini-mart that was next to our apartment building.

There was a man sweeping the leaves off the sidewalk, wearing a one-piece uniform. He was whistling a Christmas carol and eating a candy bar. "Hey kid, Merry Christmas!" he called to me. I didn't respond, just hurried over to the store.

The door was locked and the lights were off, and with a shock I remembered that it was Christmas day. I could see a figure walking around in the store, and then Mr. Elliott walked over and unlocked the door.

"Charlie, what are you doing here?" he asked.

"Uh, sorry, Mr. Elliott, I just—my mom needs some ginger ale."

"That's all right, come in," he opened the door wider for me, and then locked it after I came in.

"How's she doing?" he asked as I walked over to the refrigerated cases against the wall.

"Um, she's, she had another treatment so she's real sick right now," I told him.

"Sorry to hear that. Here, take this," he pulled a 6-pack of cans of ginger ale off of the shelf. "Does she need anything else? Crackers maybe?"

"Uhh, no, she can't take any food in her stomach right now."

"Let me bag this for you, it's kinda heavy," Mr. Elliott walked around behind the counter. I got out the money and held it out.

He waved his hand. "Put that away, it's Christmas."

"But-"

"And here-" he picked up a container of chocolates that was shaped like a Christmas tree and put it in the bag.

"My mom can't eat chocolate right now, the smell makes her sick," I said.

"Oh, they're for you, kiddo. Eat them in the kitchen after she goes to sleep or something," he winked at me.

"Thanks, Mr. Elliott," I said gratefully.

He walked me over to the door. "Listen, me and Margaret are going to be at church today and out visiting, but if you ever need anything, any help, if your mom...you know. Go down the alley and ring the bell, it might take us a couple minutes, but we'll come down for ya," He and his wife lived in an apartment over top of the store.

"Okay, thanks."

He unlocked the door and let me out. "Merry Christmas, Charlie."

"Merry Christmas, Mr. Elliott."

I watched as Mom drank the ginger ale down fast. "Mommy, go slow," I said, "you don't want to get sick."

She put the glass down, and then heaved. I grabbed the trash can next to the bed and held it up for her. After she was done throwing up, she wiped her mouth, and then started to cry.

"Mommy, what's wrong, are you hurting?" I asked.

"No, I just can't...this sucks...it's not getting better...what if it doesn't get better?" she looked at me sorrowfully, "I've.. started... trying to find... your father..."

"My- father? Why?" I felt surprised. In all my life she'd never mentioned him before, just said that he was a man she'd been with for a short while.

"Because, Lottie, if I...if I die...you need to have someone take care of you."

"Mommy, don't," I got scared, "don't talk about that!"

"Lottie, it needs to be talked about. The doctors said that the scans don't look good, there's no change, so we need to start making plans-"

"NO!" I shouted, running out of the room. I ran over to where the box of chocolates was, on the table, and I grabbed it up, forgetting that I'd opened the top. I hurled it across the room, and chocolates scattered as the box fell. I threw myself down on the sofa and burst into tears.

~ ~ spn ~ ~ spn ~ ~ spn ~ ~

I was the only one in the waiting room. The t.v. on the wall blared a football game, but I didn't hear anything. I felt numb. All the machines in Mommy's room had started to make noises and flash, and then a bunch of nurses had come rushing in, and finally someone had noticed me in the corner, and shooed me out of the room.

I had stood there in the doorway watching as they worked, but I knew what that sound meant- the steady beep and the straight flat line on the monitor. I'd seen it on too many t.v. shows, it meant that the heart had stopped. That the person was dead.

A doctor and nurse hurried in, bumping my shoulder, and the doctor gave me a dirty look. He said something to a nurse, and she walked over and shut the door, right in my face. Last thing I head was, "All right, let's get out the paddles, people."

I heard the squeaking of wheels and a janitor came in pushing a mop bucket. He began to mop the floor, whistling every once in a while.

"Hey kid, you look like you could use a pick-me-up," he said, "want some candy?"

"Uh, I don't have any money," I said.

"That's okay," he walked over to the machines and banged twice on the side, and then once on the glass. A candy bar fell out, and he reached in and took it out.

"Mmm, I love these," he said, "Ya want something? Snickers? Mounds? Gummy Bears?" He unwrapped the candy bar and began to eat it.

"I'm—not s'posed to talk to strangers an' all," I hunched down in my coat, wishing he would leave me alone.

"Aww, c'mon kid, but it's free candy!" He banged on the machine again and several bars fell at the same time. He reached in, and then walked over to me, holding them like they were a deck of cards all fanned out.

"Go ahead, take one. Take 'em all, kid, I like you. You've got sass and moxie."

I looked up at him. He seemed...familiar.

"How'd you do that?" I started to feel scared, "Who are you?"

"Just...someone who enjoys watching people," he grinned, "And I've been watching you-"

I heard a noise down the hall, and we both turned. A door at the far end had opened, and a tall man in a brown leather jacket was coming up the hall. He had short light brown hair and stubble on his chin.

He had a determined look on his face, but when he saw me, his face changed. He ran towards us. "Charlie!" he said with relief, "Oh my God, baby, there you are!"

I felt even more scared. "Wh—who are you?" I squeaked, getting up and walking over to the corner of the room.

"All right, let her go," he said to the janitor, in a hard voice.

The janitor put his hands up. "I'm not holding her here, we are just talkin'."

The tall man looked over at me with concern. "You okay, Charlie? Did he—did he hurt you or anything?" his voice was urgent.

"I'm o-okay...wh-who are you?" I asked again.

He stared at me, and then at the janitor. "What the hell kind of game are you playing?" the man barked, and the stern-ness in his voice made me shrink down. "Have you been messing with her memories this whole time? What the hell is the point of all this?"

The janitor laughed and shrugged. "There is no point...I wanted to give you a little taste of what life was like when she was little, because you've always wondered about that. Then, I wanted to teach all of you a lesson, to appreciate what you have with each other, in the here and now, and not keep looking into the past, yada, yada, yada...but watching all the angst that you people go through was just too...much...fun..."

I felt a surge of anger. "My Mommy just—she just died! Of cancer! You think that's fun?" I yelled, clenching my fists and stepping towards the janitor.

"Oh, Charlie, I'm so sorry-" said the tall man.

The janitor snickered. "Oh, this kid, she's got a lot of moxie. She's a spunky little thing, you better hold on to this one. She's gonna give you a run for your money when she gets older!" he turned and winked at me.

The tall man glared at the janitor. "How are you able to do all this? What the hell are you?"

The janitor laughed again and spread his arms. "I can't believe you haven't figured it out, Dean-o. But then, I guess you've been pretty off-kilter with me zapping you back and forth through the years. And you probably would've figured it out with your brother here, he's the brains of your operation," he leaned forward and gave an elaborate bow, "I'm a Trickster! And playing with your little family has been such a pleasure, it's like my own live-action doll-house-"

"Well, I'm done playing," the tall man reached behind him and pulled out a gun. I gave a little squeak of fear and backed up further. He pointed it at the janitor, "You're going to let us go, but first you're going to scrunch your nose, or wave your wand, or whatever it is you do, and blink everything back to the way it was before all this started."

"Are you sure about that?" the janitor's voice was sassy, "You were left in a motel room with your kid while your baby bro got to go off hunting the 'Big Bad' who killed your mommy, with the great John Winchester. Wouldn't you much rather be there for the showdown?"

"No, I just want it back the way it was," the man ground out, doing something that made the gun click, "Fix it and make everything right, and give her her memories back."

The janitor laughed. "Dude, guns don't work on me, come on," he rolled his eyes, and snapped his fingers, and the gun disintigrated into powder.

"What the fu-"

All of a sudden the door to the surgical area opened, and a really tall man came running through, holding a long stick.

"Guns don't work, but this will," he said, and he leapt forward and plunged the stick into the janitor's back.

I screamed and covered my face with my hands.

"Son of a-" the janitor said in a surprised voice, and I heard a thump as his body fell.

"Holy crap," the tall man said.

I lowered my hands and looked at the men. Geez, they were both really tall and big!

"You okay, Dean?" the taller man's chest was heaving. He had longer, darker brown hair and was wearing an olive green jacket.

"Yeah, I'm good. You saved our bacon, Sammy. Hey, Charlie-"

The taller man turned and smiled at me, and he had dimples. "Charlie!" he exclaimed happily, "Are you okay, honey?"

"You—you killed that man!" I sad accusingly, and then as we watched, the janitor's body slowly turned to a gray dust that scattered across the floor.

I stared at them, frowning, "What the—what's going on? How do you guys know who I am?"

The man in the leather jacket came over to me. "Charlie, let's sit down and talk-"

I backed away from him. "No! Don't touch me! Who the heck are you guys?"

There was a sound like flapping wings, and then another man appeared in the room. He had short dark hair and was wearing a long tan trench coat.

I screamed in surprise.

"Oh, God, Castiel," the tall man said, "there you are."

"I got here as fast as I could, Dean Winchester," the man in the trenchcoat said. His voice was low and gravelly, "Are any of you injured?"

"No, but she—she doesn't know who we are! How'd he do that, did he mess with her memories? Is it—is it permanent?" Dean Winchester's face was full of worry.

"He's dead, how come she still doesn't recognize us? Shouldn't the spell or whatever have worn off?" the taller man asked with concern.

"It was not a spell," the trench coat man said, "He was bending time and space, reality, if you will, and because of Charlie's abiliites, she was deeply entrenched in it. I will have to try and—fix things in her mind, to disentangle the twisted reality and remove it."

He walked towards me and I backed away. "What're you gonna do?" I asked anxiously.

"Is it- is it safe?" Dean Winchester looked nervous. I noticed that his eyes were very green.

"Yes, it is safe, and things will go back to how they were," trench coat man said. He reached towards me, and lifted his hand up.

"Get away from me!" I tried to bat his hand away. I turned, to try and run, but the other men were right there, and Dean Winchester reached for me and grabbed me.

"Charlie, hold still-" he said as I struggled.

I began to fight and kick as trench coat man came over to us.

"Hey—no—lemme go-what are you-" he put two fingers on my forehead, and then everything went dark.