Many apologies for the delayed update. I've been without internet for most of the time and then when I got the internet back, I've been too exhausted from working 8-12 hour days 7 days a week. Enjoy!

As always, the next few weeks were tense and awkward in the Winchester household. Bridget didn't want to admit it but the woman's words had affected her badly. She felt that she was nothing more than a slut and a wild teenage girl that had managed to get herself pregnant. It didn't matter what anyone else said. The words had ripped at her heart and her self-esteem.

Dean was at a loss of what to do. There was no manual on how to raise a teenage daughter, let alone a pregnant one. Everything he said seemed to be the wrong thing to say at the wrong time. Bridget had burst into tears at seemingly random times, with no trigger. The hunter felt like he was walking on eggshells whenever he came home.

The only time when both of them felt even remotely at ease was when they weren't around each other. Bridget took every opportunity she could to get out of the house. Like going grocery shopping.

Bridget stared at the aisles of food, unsure of where to start. Everything sounded extremely tasty at the moment.

"Are you looking for something in particular?" Bridget jolted at the sound of a voice behind her. She gave the man that had asked the question a shaky smile.

"Everything?" she said tentatively and her smile grew more sure as the man laughed. Bridget gave the man a quick once over. Shaggy blond hair, a well built body, and not extremely tall. The overall image was that of a decently attractive guy that had probably just turned eighteen or nineteen.

"Do you work here?" Bridget asked, hoping to make small talk. The man shook his head.

"You were just standing there for a while, looking lost and I thought that a gorgeous girl like you shouldn't be all by herself."

While Bridget doubted that she was gorgeous, she couldn't help the blush that crossed her face.

"This might be totally forward of me, but are you doing anything tonight?" Bridget's eyes widened at the suddenness of the question.

"Er—" she said, too stunned to form words. It had been a while since she had been asked out and the other times she had been asked out hadn't been in such a direct manner. Bridget shook her head to clear her thoughts and turned to the young man.

"I'm not doing anything," she said.

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Dean glanced at the clock as he saw headlights in the driveway. 12:13. Thirteen minutes past curfew. That was the third time this week.

"You're late," he called out as the door opened. Bridget jumped at the sound of his voice.

"You're still up?" she asked, sounding surprised.

"Whether I'm awake or not doesn't change the fact that you're late," Dean said firmly, not allowing the subject to be changed. "Again."

"Sorry," Bridget murmured. "I was just hanging out with some friends."

"Girls or a boy?" Dean asked, eyes narrowing at her sheepish look. At the wide-eyed look, Dean assumed—correctly—that it was a boy.

"A boy? Really?" he asked. Bridget stiffened at her father's tone.

"We were just talking," she protested. "It's not like that's a crime."

"Is this the boy that's been texting you nonstop for the past week or so?" Dean asked. Bridget gave a stiff nod. Dean sighed and attempted to back off. He didn't want to cause a deeper rift in their relationship.

"What's he like?" he asked. Bridget's eyes brightened.

"He's a great guy. He's always complimenting me and taking me to fun places."

"How old is he?" Dean asked. Bridget shrugged.

"Nearly twenty, I think," she said. An alarm began to go off in Dean's head.

"And where has he been taking you?" he asked.

"Just local places," she said. "Mainly Main Street." Otherwise known as the bars, Dean finished in his head. It was written all over Bridget's face.

"And he's never brought you home or wanted to come over here?" he asked.

"He's a college student," Bridget said, starting to become exasperated. "He doesn't live at home anymore. And why would he want to come over here? I thought you wouldn't want me alone with a boy anymore."

"Because staying out past curfew with a boy is so much better," Dean muttered. Bridget's eyes flashed.

"What's your issue?" Bridget demanded. Dean scowled down at his daughter.

"I don't like the sound of that guy," he informed her, crossing his arms. Bridget rolled her eyes.

"He's a nice guy," she informed her dad. Dean didn't believe her.

"I've been called a nice guy, too," he pointed out. "That doesn't mean anything. I don't want you around him, especially if he's bringing you to bars."

Bridget scowled and her eyes narrowed dangerously.

"You can't tell me what to do," she snapped. Dean raised an eyebrow.

"Actually, I can," he said. "You're sixteen and still technically a minor. You shouldn't be around bars in the first place."

Bridget took a deep breath as she processed the subtle threat. If she hadn't, she probably would have screamed in frustration.

"This is a good thing," she informed her father. "He wants to be with me. I can tell with the way he treats me. We could get married and he'd be a good father to the baby."

Dean shook his head in disbelief.

"You're sixteen," he repeated. "You shouldn't be talking about marriage and whether someone will be a good father or not, especially with a guy you've known for just over a week. I won't let this happen."

Bridget let out a huff of frustration.

"I thought you would be happy for me," she practically shouted. "Why are you being so—so—" She couldn't think of the word she needed to finish her sentence.

"Like a father?" Dean suggested. "Because I am a father. Your father. And I won't have you seeing that boy under my roof."

Bridget took another deep breath.

"Fine," she said slowly after a few seconds. "I won't see him while living here. I'll go somewhere else."

Dean's eyes widened but before he could stop his teenage daughter, she was storming off and out of the house. The father winced as he heard the engine of the car. He should have never given Bridget a copy of the car keys. It allowed her too much freedom and an easy way to escape when there was fighting.

After an hour, when Bridget hadn't come back, Dean decided to begin calling around. He started with his daughter's cellphone but as he expected, she didn't answer. Dean called all the bars in town but none of the employees had seen Bridget. Dean called Bridget again and nearly called Sam before hesitating. His brother wouldn't know where Bridget was and Dean really didn't want the lecture Sam would hand out. He also didn't want his brother to know that he was once again failing as a father.

The night passed and Bridget still didn't answer her phone or return to the house. Dean had been calling her every half hour or so, but to no avail.

When Dean had to go in to work, he could barely focus. His mind constantly wandered to thoughts about his daughter. Where was she? Was she with that guy? What if she came home while he was at work? Why wasn't she answering her phone? Was it dead?

The next few days made Dean into a nervous wreck. He had gotten less than five hours of sleep in the past seventy-two hours and it was starting to show. Coffee wasn't doing anything anymore and Dean severely needed some sleep.

Dean had just closed his eyes, prepared to take a nap when he heard the garage door open. His eyes flew open and he was on his feet. He watched silently as Bridget stumbled in, eyes red from crying. Dean's hands tightened into fists as he saw a bruise beginning to form on Bridget's cheek, just under her eye.

"What happened?" he demanded. Bridget let out a loud sniff.

"I thought he was the one," she admitted quietly. "But he found out I was pregnant. He didn't want me anymore after that. He said that I was damaged."