Enjoy!

Dean stared at his daughter, not sure if he had heard her right.

"Excuse me?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "You went where?"

Bridget sighed and placed her hands over her stomach nervously.

"I went to Planned Parenthood," she repeated. "I took a pregnancy test a few days ago and it came up positive. I wanted to be absolutely positive, so I made an appointment."

"Are you saying that you're pregnant?" Dean looked visibly upset and a tiny bit surprised. Bridget nodded and tugged down her sleeves again.

Dean took a deep breath in an attempt to not demand how that had happened. He was perfectly aware of how girls became pregnant. He just hadn't expected it to happen to his daughter, especially when she was still in high school.

"And how is that related to your face?" he asked after a few seconds. "Did the nurse suddenly decide to beat you up? Because I really doubt that."

A small smile crossed Bridget's face at the blatant sarcasm. It quickly left, though, as she prepared to tell her father what had happened after she had left the Planned Parenthood center.

"I figured the father should know," she said. "He…didn't react well. Needless to say, we aren't dating anymore."

Dean scowled at the thought of a faceless little punk daring to strike his daughter.

"You're dating someone?" he asked. That was news to him. His daughter had never mentioned a boy before.

"Was," Bridget corrected. "Now can we go inside? I'm starving." She tried to pass her father to go into the house but Dean easily blocked her.

"Not yet. When did that happen? Why didn't I know about this?" he demanded. Bridget sighed and rolled her eyes.

"We had been dating for the last few months and of course I never told you," she snapped. "I didn't want you going after him with your shotgun, after all."

"The shotgun's the least of his worries right now," Dean grumbled. Bridget's eyes widened ever so slightly at the pure rage in his voice. "Where does this punk live?"

"Dad, no," she warned. "You can't shoot him."

"Who said anything about shooting him?" Dean asked. "I'm going to rip him apart, limb by limb. Then I'm going to stab him repeatedly and burn the remains so no one will ever find him."

Bridget's eyes widened even further and this time it was her who had to block her father from getting to the cars.

"Dad, no!" she said. "No killing!"

"He knocked you up!" Dean shouted. "Then he had the nerve to hit you! He's lucky I ain't sending him straight to hell!"

"I'll be fine," Bridget informed her father. "I'm better off without him, anyway. Women empowerment and all that shit."

Dean scowled at the sound of his daughter swearing but decided that swearing was the least of his concerns right now.

"He's not going to get away with this," he promised. "That child is not going to have a deadbeat dad!"

"I think it's better than having a murdered deadbeat dad and a grandfather in jail for murder," Bridget snapped. Dean couldn't meet her eyes, knowing that she had a point. He let out a heavy sigh.

"Get inside," he ordered. "We need to have a long talk about this."

Bridget let out a silent groan.

"I'm not having an abortion," she announced as she walked into the house, Dean following behind her. "So you better get used to being called 'Grandpa'."

Dean stopped in his tracks and let out a curse under his breath. Shit, that was right. He was going to be a grandfather.

Suddenly the retired hunter felt a lot older.

Dinner was a quiet affair in the Winchester household. It usually was but that night there was an underlying tension between the father and daughter. Bridget could tell that Dean was upset with this turn of events but if he was upset, she was beyond upset. She was embarrassed that she had found herself in this situation, humiliated that she had ended up with a guy that was more concerned with his reputation than his baby, furious with herself for not being careful, and uncertain if she was doing the right thing.

And that was only the tip of the iceberg.

Bridget glanced down at her stomach and lightly traced her hands over it. In a few months, it would begin to swell.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Dean asked gruffly, noticing where his daughter's attention had wandered. Bridget nodded. "What are you going to do about school?"

"What about school?" Bridget asked, tilting her head slightly. Dean sighed.

"I mean," he began, "what will you do about school when the baby's born? You won't be able to bring it into the building."

Bridget shrugged.

"Then I'll drop out," she said simply. Dean's eyes narrowed.

"Good luck explaining that to your Uncle Sam," he said, beginning to clear the dishes. Bridget muttered a curse under her breath. That was one fight she wasn't sure she could win. Her uncle was adamant about education and doing well in school. Bridget couldn't care less and Dean was just impressed that his daughter had gotten into high school.

Bridget raised an eyebrow as her father grabbed the keys to the Impala.

"Where are you going?" she asked warily. She still wasn't convinced that her father wouldn't kill her now ex-boyfriend the first chance he got. Dean didn't know where the boy lived but that would stop him for only a few hours.

"I'm going to see if any of the bars need a new bartender," Dean said. "We'll have an extra mouth to feed soon and babies aren't exactly cheap. Need to get a second job."

"Oh," Bridget said quietly. "Well, I guess I'll see you later." Dean nodded curtly.

"Don't stay up too late," he said. "You're going to school tomorrow. No more skipping and no more disappearing without a trace."

Bridget gave a small nod. While Dean would never admit it, he had been worried, and she knew that.

"Bye," she called as the door swung shut.