Dawn Winchester?
Summary: Dawn isn't a magical clone, she's Buffy's daughter, and John's
Disclaimer: If you recognize it, it ain't mine.
"Caleb, send them whatever they ask for. Yes, they're serious. No, it's not a joke. She really is a hellgoddess. Don't ask me, the way I heard it, she's from a hell dimension, not hell itself. That involves too much high level math for me to figure out. All I know is she needs to die, and Dean and Sam have a way to do it. So get off your ass and send my boys whatever they need Caleb." John Winchester was an ex-marine. He had watched his wife do this with her friends. He could do this. It was possible to talk on the phone and braid a girls hair at the same time. He was never going to survive. Dean had better make sure his body was salted and burned or he was going to haunt his son forever.
"If she wins, the entire planet goes into the crapper; got it Caleb? End of the World scenario here. The bitch is sitting on top of a hellmouth. One wrong move and poof, we're history. Yeah; thought you might see it that way. Wait a minute Caleb.
"What is it, Dawn? Did I screw up this braid thing again?"
"Nope. Tell Caleb to give you an account number and Willow will put his payment in it. She hacks the Watcher Council's bank accounts all the time to pay for stuff for Mom." Dawn grinned at her dad, sitting behind her. He really was a great guy. Imagine that, he was trying to talk a weapons dealer into giving her brothers anything they wanted just so they could kill the hellgoddess who was out to kill her. It gave her a warm snuggly feeling she hadn't had since she found out she was a magical test tube kid.
"Ok, Caleb, give me an account number where I can put your payment. Oh Come On Caleb. I may have had to take some shipments out in trade but I have never failed to pay you and neither have my boys. OH Don't you bring THAT up again. That was 30 years ago Caleb! And I more than repaid you by giving you a new market to play in. How many hunters have I sent your way? That's right. And how many times has Betsy's little contributions to your business saved your ass from the feds? Unhuh. Well then why do we have to have this conversation every time we talk? Yeah, you too, you stupid hound dog. If you'd just admit you love her, you'd be a hell of a lot better off.
"Yeah, I just found out about her. Fatherhood I can handle, it's having a daughter I'm not so sure about. Yeah, the boys know. She helped clean up a pack of hellhounds. Nope, she loved it. Spent the entire night like Dean on a sugar rush and then crashed for hours. You wish! Her mouth is worse, and she's got Sam's brain on speed. She's plowing through the study packets Pastor Jim's wife gave us. Yeah. Homeschooling is something I wish I could have done with the boys. Much less chance for Child Services to get on my ass about 'unexplainable' bruises, like I can tell them a vengful spirit threw a table at the kid; or even better too many schools in too short a space of time. Dean would have loved it, much less time spent on subjects he hated and that much more time to spend on hunting skills. Yeah, Sam probably thanked god it wasn't an option. Ok." John copied down the account number. "Got it, You just let me know how big the tab is. You'll get your payment 24 hours after delivery. That's why I'm making the payment, I'm not on this job. 24 hours for the boys to tell me they got the delivery and for me to get the money to your account. Ok, Semper Fi, Caleb." John hung up the phone and pulled out the very messy braid that was so far all he was able to manage. "Thank god you still have a mother to go to for female stuff." he muttered as he put his full attention on conquering the mystery that was putting a braid in a girls hair.
"Ok, that's the best I can do." Dawn jumped up off the motel bed and ran over to the mirror over the dresser. She squeeled and threw herself into her dad's arms. Hugging him as hard as she could, she held on until she was sure the tears in her eyes were gone. Then she jumped into the bed farthest from the door. She then folded her arms and thanked God for her family, all of them, and asked him to look after everyone in Sunnydale. It never failed to bring a tear to John's eyes to hear her thank God for allowing her to be created from his blood. He knew he wasn't the world's best father, hell he'd been more of a drill sargent during his boys later years, but he had no idea what was so bad that his version of parenting got this kind of reaction from Dawn. Truthfully he was afraid to ask. He got up and put up the salt wards around their beds and across the windows and door. For tonight she would be safe. He placed his weapons in easy reach and went to the bathroom to change out of his clothes and into a t-shirt and sleep pants. He fell asleep with one hand on his gun, and one eye on the door.
