Dawn Winchester?
Summary: Dawn isn't a magical clone, she's Buffy's daughter, and John's
Disclaimer in chapter 1
The kid didn't look like Sammy, but he was wearing a Standford sweatshirt just like the one Sammy used to wear around the campus. John took another drink of his coffee and hoped the painkillers would kick in soon. He hated these visions and the headaches that came with them. Had it been too much to ask that Sam wouldn't get them? The nightmares were bad enough. Ok, they were survivable and useful when it came to pinpointing something that needed hunting, but the pain from the visions on the other hand, just knocked you on your ass. And Missouri said Sam was stronger than either of them? Oh God, my poor boy. If it is this bad for me, Sam probably can't even move. Thank god he's with Dean.
John squinted through the pain in his head and regarded the image of his eldest son. Dean would look after Sam. Of that there was no doubt. He always had. Not the best way to raise him, but Dean had always been stubborn about it, trying his best to live up to his self-imposed image of the best big brother in the world. It had been the last thing Dean had promised his mother, and it was a promise he was determined not to break, no matter how unrealistic it was or what John said on the subject. John had given up that argument long ago, not that it was much of an argument. Dean just dug his heels in and plowed forward, stubborn cuss. Sam was the one who would argue.
One thing about Sam though, when Dean's abilities manifested, what ever they were going to be, he wouldn't let Dean deal with it on his own. That shaman or what ever he had been, had said that Dean's powers would come to him before his 30th year. That wasn't far off now. God, 30. His boy was going to be 30 in 3 more years. Where had the time gone? John shook his head and winced again at the pain. He knew where the years had gone, down the road and through god alone knows how many haunts and creatures they had hunted down and killed. How many people had they saved? Did it really matter as long as they were saved? John frowned, he shouldn't let himself get introspective. It wasted time and he had another job to do. As soon as the pain let up enough for him to drive.
He slowly stood up from the counter and waited for his head to decide if it was a good idea or not. But the pain seemed to be fading to a dull ache at last. He went to pay for his meal, glad that this time he didn't have to use a fake credit card. They were a necessity that he really didn't like, and one he knew that Sam had always called him on. They were too easy to use, and stealing besides. A good way to end up in jail, but what else could be done when the money ran out? It wasn't like hunting things that went bump in the night was a paying job. Ok, no more thinking about Sam, John told himself. He walked out of the diner and over to his truck. There was a hellhound lose in Arrow Rock, and he was sure it had something to do with the demon who killed Mary.
