I kept busy while the four men in Dad's house worked out their plan of attack for whatever big bad they were dealing with on this particular hunt. I wasn't expecting anyone to seek me out, but Dad did, not long after John left my room.

"Sweetheart," he started, taking a seat in the chair by my desk. "How did you know about hunting?"

Ah, shit, I hadn't thought about that. I tried to think of a way to explain that wouldn't get John ran off or shot. "I met a hunter at school." I offered, seeing his eyebrows raised, I realized I just admitted that school wasn't as safe as I'd made it out to be. "One night, I got pretty consumed by my research. The night I actually chose the slant I would take with it, actually. And I didn't realize that it had gotten dark, and I hadn't driven to the campus." I could see the lecture building, but I kept going. "I was walking across the quad, when I heard it, him, the hunter. He'd been hurt." I could still see John's slumping figure, the blade in his hand, the blood on his face. Blinking it away, I continued. "I offered him help. He reminded me a bit of you, I guess, gruff and grumpy." He had, especially in the bathroom standoff for his shirt. "He told me, elaborated on your vague warnings I guess. And then, when they showed up, it clicked." I shrugged, hoping he didn't ask more leading questions. Like who was the hunter?

Dad was turning over my words in his head. And I was trying to stay still on my bed, where I had gone back to reading after John's visit. He nodded, and I thought I was free and clear. "Just the one time?" Of course, Dad wanted to know how often me and the mysterious hunter had connected. Or maybe he wanted to know just how fucking dangerous my college was.

"Yeah, just the one time." I agreed, feeling like a lying turd, but also not wanting Dad to worry. On either count. "Although it did make me take some first aid courses." I smiled, and he beamed back at me. "If this Master's thing doesn't pan out, I am totally qualified to work as an EMT."

Dad chuckled, knowing that there was absolutely no way I wouldn't finish what I'd started. "That's good to know, sweetie." He stood up and moved to kiss me on my forehead. "I'll let you get back to reading." He glanced at the cover of my book and shook his head. "Even if it is trash."

I bit my lip to keep from laughing at that. It was true, the toss away novels I kept for downtime weren't exactly the classics. Dad left, and I was alone to consider how I was going to make it up to him when my relationship with John was made clear. I'd lied, pure and simple. And I don't remember ever lying to my daddy. Jesus, what a mess.

That night, after hours of reading for me and unknown preparation for the guys, we sat around the kitchen table eating an actual cooked dinner. After Dad and the others had conceded that food was a necessary evil, and that perhaps the kitchen table wasn't the best place to clean their weapons. I had a feeling this edict would go out the window when I wasn't around to make it reasonable, but for now I was pacified. I'd cooked a meal of chicken breasts, mashed potatoes, rolls, gravy, and Italian green beans. No one spoke during the meal. John even kept his wandering hands to himself. And for a few minutes I grew wary. They ate, and ate, and ate, until it was all gone. Well everything but what was on my plate. Nerves I supposed kept my appetite low. Waiting to see what they'd thought of this meal I'd made.

When the last bite was swallowed, I took a careful sip from my glass and sat back to see if anyone would say a word. Dad was the first to open his mouth, but John beat him to the punch with actual words.

"My God, Parisa, that was delicious." His eyes locked on mine, and I knew it wasn't just a compliment for compliment's sake. I hadn't gotten to cook for him, not yet, because I rarely knew when he'd show up. We ate leftovers, we ate carryout or delivery, or we ate out when he showed up. This was the first meal he'd eaten as soon as I'd made it.

Dad's eyes squinted, looking from John to me, and I felt it. "It most definitely was, sweetheart." His hand touched mine on the table, drawing my attention back to him. "But then again, you ALWAYS make the best meals." For fuck's sake, was Dad jealous that John appreciated my food and gave the first damn compliment to me? Shit.

"Thank you, both of you." I smiled at John and kissed Dad's cheek. "I'm guessing you two don't have any complaints?" I looked up at Dean and Sam, who were watching the interaction between my dad, their dad, and me with uncomfortable focus.

Dean's smirk was blooming bright. "Not at all, sunshine." He winked and I swear I almost heard the two men flanking me growl in sync. Shaking my head I waited for Sam to weigh in, he was far quieter than his brother, a little less in your face.

"Yeah, Parisa, it was amazing. Thank you." Sam, ever the gentle giant, I thought. Even though I'd only met him yesterday. He was still watching Dad and John like a tennis match, which almost made me wonder what the two of them were doing, or expressing without words. Almost.

I smiled and stood up from the table. I was about to collect the empty plates, but Dad's hand on my wrist stopped me. "Nope," he shook his head. "You cooked, me and these three will clean up."

That was new. Dad was usually completely at ease letting me take care of him and the house while I visited. Not that he expected it, but he did appreciate it. "OK, thank you." I walked out of the kitchen, hearing them begin the same clucking tongues that they'd started when I'd left the room to order the pizza.

Dad came back to my room before bed that night. He wanted to let me know that they were going early in the morning to start the hunt.

"It may take a few days, honey, so I don't want you to worry." I nodded, even though the worry was taking root. "If the phones ring-"

"Are you actually leaving the door unlocked to the library?" I asked, shocked that he'd even consider it.

He chuckled. "Well, sweetheart, you know now." He thought about what he'd been saying. "You don't need to answer the phones. Just keep your cell handy, I'll check in." I nodded again. "Is that one of the reasons it started to 'click' with you, about me hunting?"

"Yeah, one of the reasons." I smiled and sat up. "Multiple phones, landlines and cell. The fact that you answered each one SLIGHTLY differently. And the locked rooms." I shrugged. "Before I met-" I nearly said 'John', but caught myself just in time. "The hunter, I just thought you were used to having your own space. And since I only visited here and there, it made sense."

Dad looked a little uncomfortable. "I'm sorry about that, sweetie."

"Dad?" I had a burning question, something that I'd never dared asked, but since we were sharing now, why not? He motioned for me to go on. "Why don't you ever talk about Mom?"

His eyes, usually careful about making eye contact, fell to my blanket. As though he hoped to find answers in the paisley pattern. "What do you mean?"

I sighed. "You never tell me about her. Or the two of you. You don't even acknowledge her existence." He glanced up at me. "Grams and Pop-Pop tell me things, but they didn't love her like you did, or like I think you did."

He groaned, and rose to pace. "I'm sure your grandparents have a lot to say about your mama and me. Especially me."

"Daddy, Grams and Pop-Pop don't talk down about you. Not even close." I smiled as he stopped in his tracks. "When I was too little to visit you, they told me all about how you swept Mom off her feet and how the two of you reminded them of themselves. They made you seem like a king who found his queen. And that I was your princess. You were my hero, even before my first night in this house."

He wasn't expecting that. Not even close. "They said that?" I nodded. He ran a hand over his face and almost fell into the chair

again. "I was sure-" He was almost talking to himself. "They had every right to-"

I waited, clearly sharing was new for both of us. At least about this. It took him a few minutes to come to terms with the fact that my grandparents didn't think he was a monster, though I had no idea why they would.

He sighed, and moved to sit beside me on my bed. It squeaked, and I glared at the noise. "Your mama, Parisa, was the only woman that had ever made me consider having kids. She fought to show me that I wasn't like my own dad." He closed his eyes, remembering something about a grandfather I'd never heard about. "He wasn't a good man. Hell, he was barely a human. And I was so scared, darlin', so terrified that I'd be like him." I took his hand and held it. "Karen, your mama, she went circles around with me, reminding me of all the ways I wasn't him. She finally convinced me, and we found out you were on the way." His smile was sad, and suddenly I wondered if Dad became a hunter in the same way John had. "In the beginning of her pregnancy it was amazing. She really did glow. But the closer the time came for you to come into this world, the more she changed. I thought it was hormones. I shrugged off the intuition that I felt that something was truly wrong." His eyes closed and I saw a tear escape. "One day, her eyes went totally black. She growled at me and told me that she'd consume you as soon as you were born. That was the only reason she existed." He gulped, his eyes opening and locking on mine. "I didn't understand, Parisa, I'd never seen evil that wasn't truly human, like my dad. I didn't know how to stop it, what was inside of her, and she died at my hand to save you."

I felt my eyes go wide. My mom died because of me? I tried to take my hand from his, but he held fast. My heart pounded, and I felt like screaming or throwing up.

"I didn't know, honey." Dad was whispering. "I didn't know that it wasn't HER. That something had taken hold of her, something that wanted you." He was trying to force me to look at him, but a survivor's guilt started to gnaw at me. "I had you in my arms, somehow you'd survived, they said because she was almost at the end of her pregnancy anyway. The official story was an accident, but I knew, even if everyone else didn't that I'd killed her. I murdered my own wife. And I couldn't possibly be able to keep you safe. Not if I couldn't keep her safe. That's why I asked your grandparents to raise you." He smiled at me, sad, but serene almost. "They raised the woman I loved, made her the sweetest and kindest woman I knew, so I knew they'd repeat it with you."

"It was my fault." I whispered. Feeling the pain of not knowing my mother crush down over me. All because something evil wanted to devour me.

"Aw, no, Parisa." Dad pulled me to his chest, kissing my head. "Sweetheart, it wasn't your fault. If hunting has taught me anything, it's that evil doesn't need a reason. They make one up or they taunt you into thinking it's your fault or you haven't got another choice." He pulled back and wiped away tears I hadn't felt fall from my cheeks. "Wasn't your fault. Wasn't her fault. Hell, there are times that I can convince myself it wasn't even my fault. Your mama wouldn't want you to feel guilt for being alive, sweetheart. She wanted you to live. That's why she fought so damn hard to make me realize that I could be a daddy." He smiled and kissed my forehead. "You, Parisa Singer-Allison, were meant to be alive."

Dad left not long after. We cried, we bonded. We gave one another things to think over. I picked up my cell phone and texted John.

"I hear you're leaving in the morning." Mine read.

A ding and I looked at his reply. "Yeah, I'd love to spend tonight with you, but that damn bed and your dad's tendency to come do bed check-"

I grinned. "Which room did you get assigned to?"

A few beats and another ding. "Four doors down from yours."

Feeling wicked, I replied. "Does your damn bed squeak too?"

This ding came faster. "Not that I've noticed."

"Maybe I should do an inspection?"

I'd barely pressed send when the ding chimed. "Maybe you should."

"Let me know the best time to perform my duty, Mr. Winchester."

I swear the ding nearly made me jump out of my skin with want. "Will do, princess."

I practically jumped out of bed. Grabbing my nightgown, a safer bet, not John's shirt, just in case Dad chose to visit me again, and rushed to the bathroom for a shower, shave, and preparation for what I hoped would be a good send off for my hunter. Unlike last night, I took my time and had a warm and luxurious bath. I made sure the hair that shouldn't exist was gone, the hair that should be groomed and sweet smelling, and that my skin was soft and clean. And I prayed, like I had never prayed, that John's fucking bed didn't make a fucking sound.

When I finished, and wiped the steam build up off the mirror, I took stock. My hair was hanging in wet ringlets, my skin looked fresh and glowing, and my eyes, well if they dilated any further, they'd be black. I pulled on my nightgown, having forgotten my panties in my rush, I realized that I could probably get away with going without. The gown was to my knees, and it covered all my pertinent bits, just in case Dad decided to pop in to say goodnight, which he would. Of course he would.

I'd barely covered myself up and propped my back against my pillows, when a knock came to my door. Calling out for Dad to come in, he did. Smiling at his sweet, sort of innocent daughter laying so pristine and perfect in her bed. I could almost read these thoughts running through Dad's mind. He came over, assured me once again that everything would go well on their hunt, that I shouldn't worry, and that I should keep my cell phone close so he could check in. As if speaking the phone's name, it dinged, causing him to look at me.

"Sorry, Grams likes to say goodnight and I just taught her texting." I smiled, ignoring the face down phone sitting on my side furthest from Dad.

He gave me an indulgent smile and kissed me goodnight, and goodbye, since he was sure I wouldn't be awake to see them off. "We're leaving before dawn, sweetheart." He told me, and gave me a hug, hearing that I'd be fine (what 25 year old who lived alone all year long wouldn't be, I wondered), and another kiss on my forehead and he left. My door closed behind him, and since he knew it wasn't locked when he came in, and that I was already in bed, I wouldn't need to when I went to inspect John's bed for squeaks.

Turning my cell over, I read John's text. "I'll be up in about an hour. That should give Bobby time to settle in for the night."

"Tell me when you're actually in bed, babe." I rolled my eyes, and turned off my lamp, just in case Dad decided to do a bed check before John came up.

I ended up waiting an hour and a half. Just to be sure that Dad didn't come sniffing around, although I had bets that he'd rush into Dean's room before even considering John now. The hallway was dark. Even without visiting all that much, I'd memorized the squeaky boards along the hall years earlier, knowing that Dad would get all up in arms if I was snooping where he didn't want me to. I saw a hint of light under the door that John told me was his, and with a soft knock, I entered.

I was utterly thankful that he hadn't miscounted. That our luck of false starts, of unsatisfying endings, and comedy of errors had apparently run out. He was laying back on his own bed, jeans on the chair nearby, shirt tossed on top, and I hoped, God I hoped that he'd gone Commando, because honestly my body was practically humming from the mere thought of finally having him.

"Get over here, princess." That voice, there were days that I could swear he could order me to stab a hole in the person next to me in that voice and I'd do it. I didn't rush, not knowing this room's noisy boards. I took my time, pulling my nightgown over my head as I neared his bed and tossing it to join his clothes on the chair. I heard him sigh, his eyes taking in my bare body, and then he reached for me.

I have never been so fucking excited over a quiet bed frame. The headboard made not a single noise as my weight joined his. And then, he rolled until he was over me. His lips finding mine, his hand reaching for the lamp, just in case Dad came peeking or wondering why he was still up, turning it off and allowing only the light from the moon and stars to guide us.

He was completely bare under his blanket, and I was thankful. We didn't wait, we couldn't. His hardness found my center like we'd been made for one another and then joined, we tested the bed's shock system. Neither needed to be told that silence, or near silence was of the essence, and because we needed one another so fucking much it was easy to comply. We rode the waves, pushing one another, pulling, thrusting and rolling, and it was exactly how I wanted to send him off.

I was barely awake when he kissed me and got up to dress. The time had come, clearly for them to go. I couldn't open my eyes, or even speak to tell him to be safe. To come back to me. To keep my dad safe. Sleep took me as I heard the door click shut and by the time I woke up, happy and content at first because I'd made love to the man I loved, they had been gone for hours.

I'd worry, because what person wouldn't worry when they knew that two people they loved were out in the world battling something most people didn't believe in much less know existed? But, as I promised Dad, I kept my phone close, waiting for their update.