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Dean's face twisted in anger and his hands clenched into fists.

"He did what?" His voice was sharp and loud with restrained anger. Bridget flinched back and took a step away from her father. She knew in the back of her mind that her father would never hurt her but she could never be sure. Not anymore. She had been sure that the last two boys she had been with wouldn't have hurt her but they had.

"He didn't do anything," she muttered, blinking away tears. "He just said some shit, that's all."

"So you just gave yourself that bruise under your eye for the fun of it?" Dean asked sarcastically, raising an eyebrow and crossing his arms. Bridget could feel the heat rising in her cheeks but refused to respond. Once realizing that he wouldn't get anymore out of his daughter, Dean took a deep breath in an attempt to calm down. It didn't work.

"I'll kill him," he muttered a few seconds later. "If that piece of—"

"Dad!" Bridget said sharply, surprised at the blatant threat. "You can't just beat him up!"

Dean glanced at his daughter with fleeting amusement. "I said nothing about beating him up," he said. "I said I'll kill him."

Bridget scowled and, with a surprising amount of strength, shoved her father away from the door.

"No," she said firmly.

"How are you going to stop me?" Dean asked. The two Winchesters' heads turned towards the door upon hearing a knock. Cautiously, Dean opened the door, only for it to reveal Sam standing on the other side.

"Bad time?" Sam asked, upon seeing the expressions on the faces of his brother and niece.

"Make him stop acting like a butthead." Bridget ordered. Sam's face lit up with amusement at her choice of words.

"I think that's a lost cause when it comes to your father," he said and grimaced as Dean punched his shoulder. His brother still hadn't lost any of his strength. "Now what happened to you?"

Bridget raised a hand to cover her eye. "Nothing serious," she said quickly. Dean snorted.

"Some punk kid," he grumbled. "That she thought was a decent choice for a boyfriend." Bridget's face twisted into anger.

"He's a good guy," she protested. "He was just shocked to find out that I was pregnant." Both Dean and Sam scoffed.

"If his first reaction is to punch you, we should reevaluate your criteria for a decent boy," Sam commented carefully. He didn't particularly want to become involved but was already resigned to the fact that he would probably have to. It was just the way the Winchesters were.

Bridget let out a shriek of frustration. "He's a good guy!" she repeated. "I am perfectly capable of choosing guys that are smart, attractive, kind—"

"—and complete dicks," Dean finished. Bridget's eyes flashed dangerously but Dean continued. "No more dating unless I say so."

Bridget's mouth dropped open in surprise. "You can't do that," she protested. "That's not fair."

"Well, I hate to be a cliché, but life isn't fair," Dean responded. "I would have thought that you'd have learned that by now."

Bridget's mouth snapped shut and she glared at her father, crossing her arms.

"I hate you!" she snapped out and stormed off before she could regret her words. Sam looked over at his brother awkwardly, wondering how Dean would react to those words. Bridget was his whole life. Those words would be tearing his brother apart on the inside.

Dean's face was emotionless as he watched his daughter storm off to her room. He turned to face his brother with dull eyes.

"Was there something you wanted?" he asked, only now addressing the fact that Sam had clearly come over for something. His younger brother looked hesitant.

"It can wait," Sam said after a few seconds. "I'll come back later in the week. Are you okay?" Dean blinked and nodded.

"I'll see you later," he said, ushering his brother out the door. He didn't want Sam to see just how much Bridget's words had affected him.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Bridget's troubling words were still lingering in Dean's mind as he went to work at the bar the next night. The sixteen-year-old had remained locked in her room for the rest of the night, ignoring Dean's summons for dinner. Her refusal of dinner showed just how angry she was with her father. Bridget, like Dean, rarely skipped meals, knowing how precious food could be.

Dean recognized one of the patrons sitting at the far end of the bar as the prick that had hurt his daughter. Just the sight of him made Dean's teeth grind. Seeing a blonde-haired girl eagerly hooked onto the boy's arm made Dean's teeth grind even harder.

"What can I get for you?" he asked the girl, a plan forming in his mind. The girl ordered a simple cocktail.

"You'll want to watch yourself around him," Dean said to the girl as he began to make the cocktail, just loud enough for the boy to hear. "You might end up getting hurt—and I'm not talking just emotionally."

The girl's eyes widened as she understood the message that Dean was trying to get across. Without another word, she picked up her purse and moved to the other end of the bar.

"Hey! Who do you think you are, making accusations like that?"

"The father of the girl you hit last week." Dean answered bluntly.

"Bridget? You're Bridget's father?" The boy seemed stunned. Dean nodded and leaned across the bar.

"My advice for you, boy, is to leave this town," he hissed, looking straight into the boy's eyes. "Because if you don't, I will make your life hell. Trust me, I've been to hell. It's not somewhere you want to be."

Within a minute, the twenty-year-old was fleeing the bar and Dean had a satisfied smirk on his face as he served the girl her drink. He would protect his daughter as much as possible.