November 2004

Andrea Hudson was fed up with the six month old baby girl screaming like a banshee in her crib. She cursed Dean Winchester every day for getting her pregnant and then ditching town without so much as a goodbye. She hadn't even had a phone number to call to tell him when she found out. She had considered getting an abortion, but something had stopped her before she could follow through on that desire.

"Why won't you shut up?!" she screamed, glaring in the direction of the child's bed. The only response she got was more screaming. Andrea gave a huff of annoyance, storming closer to the crib and peering in at the small child. She already had a full head of dark hair and her big hazel-green eyes were scrunched up as she screamed. Andrea hated those eyes. They were identical to the bastard who'd gotten her pregnant in the first place. "If I drive you around for a little while, will you shut up?" she asked.

The child just continued to scream, but she didn't have any other ideas for how to get her to be quiet. So, she picked her up and grabbed the diaper bag from the front hall, heading out to the car. After strapping the baby into her car seat in the back, Andrea slammed the door and got behind the wheel. It took twenty minutes of driving for the child to stop screaming and fall asleep. As they circled back toward the house, Andrea spotted a familiar vehicle parked outside the local motel.

The last time she'd seen that car had been right before she hooked up with Dean Winchester. Tightening her grip on the steering wheel, Andrea finished driving the rest of the way home, a plan starting to form in her head.


Dean looked up from the various maps and other articles at the sharp rapping sound at the door. On the other side of the room, John didn't even bother turning from his own research, obviously expecting Dean to take care of it. The rapping sounded again, and Dean couldn't help but think it sounded desperate. Cautiously, he drew his gun and went to open the door, keeping the weapon hidden from view. On the other side was a woman with long dark brown hair and pretty blue eyes. She was carrying a car seat in one hand and a manilla envelope in the other, a diaper bag slung over her shoulder.

"Uh... can I help you?" Dean asked her. "Dean Winchester?" she asked, staring at him desperately. Dean swallowed, glancing over at his father who was studying him and the woman with a calculated expression. "Um... yeah, that's me. What do you want?" She slapped the manilla envelope against his chest and then set both the diaper bag and car seat at his feet. "She's your responsibility now."

"Wait!" he called, but the woman had already turned on her heel and left. Dean stood there, dumbstruck for a moment and wondering what had just happened. John walked over, grabbing the manilla envelope out of his hands and then went to sit on the edge of one of the beds while he looked through it. A shrill crying met Dean's ears, and he snapped out of it, looking down at the child in the car seat. He picked up the seat and diaper bag and brought them further into the room, closing the door behind him.

"What's that?" he asked his father. "Legal documents," John replied. He handed the packet to Dean to look at and then went over to continue his research. As he looked through the pile, he realized that, yes, this was all the legal documents necessary to identify the baby in the car seat. Birth certificate, social security, health insurance information, all of it. He got stuck staring at the birth certificate.

It identified the child as Mckinley Grace, born May 2, 2004 at 7lbs 6oz at 4:53 a.m. The mother was listed as Andrea Hudson and the father... Son of a bitch. His name glared back at him in bold print. He couldn't even remember who Andrea was or where he had met her. The baby- Mckinley- was still crying in her car seat. "Shut it up, son," John ordered, focused on his research.

Heart pounding out of his chest, Dean set down the documents and focused on getting his new daughter out of her car seat. She continued to scream, and he wrinkled his nose as he realized why she was so upset. John was glaring over at him, and so he grabbed the diaper bag and took it and Mckinley into the bathroom. "Alright," he muttered, setting the bag on the ground. "This is fine." He laid Mckinley's blanket down on the floor beside the diaper bag, sitting down in front of her.

She was still screaming like a banshee as he dug through the bag and found a diaper. Nose still wrinkled, Dean gagged as he undid her dirty diaper. He wrapped it up, tossing it in the trash nearby, then realized another problem- her bottom was raw and red and it looked like there were a few bleeding sores. "Oh, baby girl, I'm so sorry," he told her. He dug back into the diaper bag until he found an unopened box labeled 'Boudroux's Butt Paste'. Opening it up and squeezing some of the cream out onto his hand, he gently applied it to Mckinley's sore bottom.

"There you go, sweetheart," he cooed, grabbing the fresh diaper to put on her. As he was finishing up, the child stopped screaming, instead staring up at him with big hazel-green eyes. "Does that feel better?" he asked her, smiling a little. "I bet that feels a lot better." Mckinley babbled and blew little bubbles with her tongue in response. He laughed a little to himself, picking her up.

Her eyes found the light above the mirror and she babbled some more, reaching toward it with her tiny fist. "Do you like the pretty light?" he asked her, moving her closer to the mirror. "Huh? You like that, don't you?" She squealed in delight as he lifted her close enough to hit the bulb with her hand. "Just like a bug, aren't you? Daddy's little bug."

He pulled her back, cradling her in his arms and grabbing the diaper bag to exit the bathroom. John glared over at them when they came out. "You can't keep it," he told Dean bluntly. "She is my daughter," he replied, appalled at his father's reaction. John just kept glaring at him, clearly not willing to back down on the matter. "You don't even know that for sure. Birth certificates can be forged."

"Not this time," Dean shook his head, knowing in his gut that this little girl in his arms was his. His father was undeterred. "I don't know who that woman was, or how she found us here, but just because she gave you papers that claim you're that thing's father, doesn't mean it's true."

"I'm not giving her up. You can't make me."

"You're not hearing me, boy! We have no proof that that thing is actually yours! You cannot keep it!"

Mckinley had become fussy again during the argument, and Dean automatically started bouncing and swaying her in his arms to calm her down. He was mostly going off of instinct and what little he could remember from helping raise Sam. "What if I got a DNA test?" he asked, trying to find a way to make John agree to let him keep his daughter. "Then we'd have proof that she's mine." John paused, seeming to contemplate the idea. "And if it comes back negative?"

"Then we can discuss what to do with her. But if it comes back positive, she's staying. No arguments."

His father stared him down and he held his gaze, determined to stand his ground.

"Very well."

Dean let out the breath he'd been holding, focusing on the child in his arms. He pressed his lips to the top of her head, breathing in the scent of her soft dark hair. "There's still a job to do, son. Back to research," John snapped. "Yes, sir." Dean headed back over to his seat at the table as John returned to his own research across the room. He sat Mckinley on his lap, bouncing her to keep her happy as he went back to studying the maps and articles spread out in front of him.

"Alright, baby girl," he murmured quietly so John wouldn't hear him. "You gonna help Daddy figure out what monster we're fighting?" Mckinley babbled a response and Dean could feel his father's eyes boring a hole into his head, but he refused to acknowledge him, totally focused on the task at hand.


October 2005

Dean fiddled with the keys to the Impala, eyeing the college dorm room through the window. In the back seat, Mack slept peacefully in her car seat, the stuffed rabbit he'd bought her tucked snugly into her side. It was stupid, really, how scared he was to go inside that building and ask his brother for help finding their father. He was twenty-six years old, goddamnit. He could do this. But he hadn't talked to Sam in two years. He'd driven by once a year on his birthday just to check on him, but Sam didn't know that. He'd made sure to keep out of sight when he did that.

Biting his lip, he glanced back at Mack. He didn't want to leave her alone in the car, but it would be tricky breaking into Sam's dorm with her. "Let's go meet your Uncle Sammy, bug," he murmured, coming to a decision. He got out of the car, opening the back door and taking Mack out of her car seat. She made a noise in her sleep, but settled down against his shoulder, little fists clinging to his shirt. He managed to climb up the fire escape with her cradled in his arms up to the window he knew was Sam's dorm.

Keeping a firm grip on her, he used his other hand to ease the window open, wincing at the noise it made. He slipped inside with Mack, laying her down gently on the couch and making his way further into the dorm. As he passed by some strings of beads in a doorway into the kitchen, someone lunged forward and grabbed his shoulder. He knocked their arm away and aimed to strike and the man who'd attacked him- Sam- ducked. He grabbed Sam's arm, swinging him around and shoving him back.

Sam kicked at him and he blocked the blow and pushed him back into another room. Dean elbowed Sam in the face and then dodged another kick aimed at his head. After swinging at him once more and getting blocked, he managed to knock Sam down and pin him to the floor, one hand at his neck and the other holding his wrist. "Whoa, easy, tiger," he smirked. "Dean?" Sam asked in surprise and he laughed. "You scared the crap out of me!"

"That's 'cause you're out of practice," Dean replied. Sam grabbed his arm with his free hand, slamming his heel into Dean's back and flipping their positions so he was pinned on the floor instead. His heartbeat sped up, momentarily panicking, but he pushed that feeling aside. "Or not," he said. "Get off of me." Sam rolled to his feet, pulling Dean up. "What the hell are you doing here?" Sam demanded. "Well, I was looking for a beer," Dean joked.

He put his hands on Sam's shoulders, shaking him once, and then let go, glancing subtly toward the other room where he'd laid Mack down. She hadn't made any noise like their tussle had woken her up, which was good. He didn't want to explain why he had a one-and-a-half year old child with him to Sam just yet. "What the hell are you doing here?" Sam repeated, drawing his attention back to him. "Okay. Alright. We gotta talk."

"Uh, the phone?"

"If I'd'a called, would you have picked up?" Dean pointed out. Sam made a face. Just then, the light turned on and the brothers both turned to see a pretty blonde woman in short shorts and a cropped t-shirt with a picture of Smurfs on it. "Sam?" she asked. "Jess. Hey," Sam greeted her. "Dean, this is my girlfriend, Jessica." Dean nodded appreciatively, glancing past her again and listening for any noise from Mack. "Wait, your brother Dean?" Jess smiled. Sam nodded and Dean grinned back at her, moving closer.

"Oh, I love the Smurfs. You know, I gotta tell you. You are completely out of my brother's league." Jess shifted uncomfortably, turning to go. "Just let me put something on," she said. "No, no, no, I wouldn't dream of it," Dean stopped her. "Seriously." Satisfied that Mack was still sleeping since he didn't hear her, he moved back over by Sam without taking his eyes off of Jess. Sam was watching him, expression stony. "Anyway, I gotta borrow your boyfriend here, talk some private family business," he said, pointing at her. "But, uh, nice meeting you."

"No," Sam shook his head, walking over and putting his arm around Jess. "No, whatever you want to say, you can say it in front of her." Expression set, Dean nodded. "Okay," he turned to face the couple head on. "Um. Dad hasn't been home in a few days." Sam inhaled deeply, replying. "So he's working overtime on a Miller Time shift. He'll stumble back in sooner or later." Dean ducked his head and looked back up, staring his brother dead in the eyes. "Dad's on a hunting trip. And he hasn't been home in a few days."

Mack chose that moment to cry out and Sam and Jess both turned in surprise. "What-?" Sam asked as Dean pushed past him into the other room. He headed over to the couch, picking Mack up as she continued to cry. "What the hell?" Sam asked. Dean glanced over at him as he bounced Mack in his arms to calm her down. "Who's kid is that?" Sam asked him. "Mine," he replied. Jess glanced up at Sam as he stared at Dean with an unreadable expression. "Jess, excuse us," he told her. "We have to go outside."

Dean led the way out of the dorm, heading down the stairwell. Sam hurried after him after throwing on jeans and a hoodie. "What do you mean that's your kid?" he demanded. "I mean she's mine, Sam. Now, you're not hearing me. Dad's missing. I need you to help me find him." Sam rolled his eyes. "You remember the poltergeist in Amherst? Or the Devil's Gates in Clifton? He was missing then, too. He's always missing, and he's always fine." Dean stopped short on the landing, turning back to face him. Sam stopped as well, eyes flickering to the child in his arms.

"Not for this long," Dean protested. "Now are you coming with me or not?"

"I'm not."

"Why not?"

"I swore I was done hunting. For good," Sam told him. "Come on. It wasn't easy, but it wasn't that bad." He started back down the stairs, Sam following. "Yeah? When I told Dad I was scared of the thing in my closet, he gave me a .45." Dean stopped again just short of the door outside. "Well what was he supposed to do?" he asked. "I was nine years old! He was supposed to say, don't be afraid of the dark."

"Don't be afraid of the dark? Are you kidding me? Of course you should be afraid of the dark. You know what's out there." Sam glanced at Mack again. "That what you're gonna tell her when she gets older?" Dean glanced outside, not answering. "Are you seriously gonna raise her like we were? I mean, after Mom was killed, Dad's obsession to find the thing that killed her. But we still haven't found the damn thing. So we kill everything we can find."

"We save a lot of people doing it, too," Dean pointed out coldly, not wanting to talk about how he was raising Mack. He'd already made a vow to himself to give her as normal a childhood as he possibly could. "You think Mom would have wanted this for us?" Sam asked after a pause. Dean rolled his eyes, slamming the door open with his free hand, carrying Mack up the stairs and over to the Impala. "The weapon training, and melting the silver into bullets. Man, Dean, we were raised like warriors. I'm serious. Are you really going to raise her like that, too?"

"No, I'm not," Dean snapped, rounding on his brother angrily. "I'm going to do whatever I can to make sure she grows up as normal as possible. I'm not going to be like Dad. I'm not." Sam swallowed, glancing down. He could tell by the tone in Dean's voice that he'd struck a nerve. "So, what are you gonna do?" Dean asked, getting back on track. "You're just gonna live some normal, apple pie life? Is that it?"

"No. Not normal. Safe."

"And that's why you ran away." Dean turned away, opening the back door and strapping Mack back in her car seat. "I was just going to college. It was Dad who said if I was gonna go I should stay gone," Sam pointed out. "And that's what I'm doing." Dean straightened up, closing the door and turning back to face Sam. "Yeah, well, Dad's in real trouble right now. If he's not dead already. I can feel it." Sam remained silent. "I can't do this alone."

"Yes, you can."

"Yeah, well, I don't want to." Sam sighed, looking down, and then looked back up at Dean. "What was he hunting?" Dean moved around to the trunk, opening it up and then lifting the spare-tire compartment. It had been converted into an arsenal, and he propped it open with a shotgun. "Alright. Let's see. Where did I put that thing?" he muttered to himself. Sam was staring through the back window at Mack, who'd grabbed onto her rabbit in her sleep. "So, when Dad left, why didn't you go with him?" he asked curiously.

"I was working my own gig," Dean replied, and Sam looked away from Mack to stare at his brother in surprise. "This, uh, voodoo thing, down in New Orleans." Sam frowned. "Dad let you go on a hunting trip by yourself?"

"I'm twenty-six, dude," Dean glared over at him. He grabbed a folder, pulling out a stack of papers. "Alright, here we go. So Dad was checking out this two-lane blacktop just outside of Jericho, California. About a month ago, this guy." He handed one of the papers to Sam. "They found his car, but he vanished. Completely MIA."

"So maybe he was kidnapped."

"Yeah. Well, here's another one in April," Dean threw down another article, continuing as he listed off dates. "Another one in December 'oh-four, 'oh-three, 'ninety-eight, 'ninety-two, ten of them over the past twenty years." He took the article back from Sam, putting them all back in the folder. "All men, all the same five-mile stretch of road." He pulled a bag out of another part of the arsenal. "It started happening more and more, so Dad went to dig around. That was about three weeks ago. I hadn't heard from him since, which is bad enough."

He pulled a tape recorder out of the bag. "Then I got this voicemail yesterday." He pressed play, letting Sam listen to the message which was interspersed with static and was breaking up. "Dean... something big is starting to happen... I need to try and figure out what's going on. It may... Be very careful, Dean. We're all in danger." The message ended and Dean pressed stop. "You know there's EVP on that?" Sam asked. "Not bad, Sammy. Kinda like riding a bike, isn't it?" Dean smirked.

Sam shook his head. "Alright," Dean sighed. "I slowed the message down, I ran it through a gold wave, took out the hiss, and this is what I got." He pressed play again, and instead of John's voice, a woman spoke through the recorder. "I can never go home..." He pressed stop. "Never go home," Sam echoed. Dean dropped the recorder back in the bag, putting down the shotgun and shutting the trunk, leaning against it. "You know, in almost two years I've never bothered you, never asked you for a thing."

Sam looked away, glancing in the backseat at Mack and then back at the dorm building. "Alright," he sighed. "I'll go. I'll help you find him." Dean nodded. "But I have to be back first thing Monday. Just wait here." Sam started to head back toward the entrance to the building. "What's first thing Monday?" Dean asked curiously. Sam turned back to face him. "I have this... I have an interview." Dean shrugged, frowning. "What, a job interview? Skip it."

"It's a law school interview, and it's my whole future on a plate," Sam corrected. "Law school?" Dean smirked. "So we got a deal or not?" Sam asked. Dean nodded, not saying anything else. He waited until Sam went back inside and then climbed into the driver's seat of the Impala to wait. Mack had woken up again and was getting fussy. "What's wrong, bug?" he asked, turning around in his seat. "You hungry?" He got back out, heading around to sit beside her in the back, getting her bottle out of the diaper bag and feeding her while keeping an eye out for Sam.

When his brother showed back up with a bag slung over his shoulder, Dean finished feeding Mack and circled back around to the driver's seat. "Ready?" he asked. "Yeah. Let's go," Sam answered.


Sam kept glancing back at the nearly one-and-a-half year old strapped into the car seat in the back of the Impala. "What the hell, man?" he asked his brother. "How'd you end up with a kid?" Dean glanced in the rearview mirror at his daughter, expression softening. Mack was babbling and grabbing her toes, her stuffed rabbit tucked into the car seat beside her. "It's a long story, Sam."

"We've got a long drive, Dean." Dean sighed, relenting. "Okay, fine. About a year ago, Dad and I were working this case in Greenville, South Carolina. We were at our motel doing research when there was this knock on the door. I don't know how, but her mom had figured out where we were staying. She essentially dumped Mack at my feet and told me she was my responsibility before taking off. Dad and I were shocked."

"And you're sure she's yours?"

"Yeah," Dean nodded. "Andrea- Mack's mom- gave us all her records. The birth certificate had my name on it. Dad was furious, said that stuff can be forged." Sam glanced over at him. "They can." Dean shook his head, "Not that time. I don't know how to explain it, but the second I laid eyes on her, I knew. She was mine. Dad protested, and I only got him to back off when I suggested getting a DNA test."

"So, Dad really didn't want you to keep her?" Sam shook his head. Dean sighed, nodding. "Yeah. But when the DNA test came back positive, he sucked it up and dealt with it. Still didn't act happy about it, though." Sam glanced back at his niece who had stopped playing with her toes and had become interested in her rabbit. "How have you been hunting solo with her along?"

"I've figured it out," Dean answered. "It's not ideal, but I've learned to adapt." Sam nodded, "Right."

After a pit stop at a gas station so they could refill the tank and Dean could change Mack's diaper, they continued their journey to Jericho, Sam making a few phone calls to try and get some more information about John. "Thank you," he said, shutting his phone. "Alright. So, there's no one matching Dad's description at the hospital or morgue. So that's something, I guess." Dean glanced over at him, then back at the road.

They were approaching a bridge where there were two police cars and several officers. "Check it out," Dean nodded in that direction. Sam leaned forward for a closer look as Dean pulled the car over. They both studied the scene for a moment before Dean cut the engine. He leaned over Sam, getting into the glove compartment and pulling out a box full of IDs. Sam stared at him incredulously as he picked one out and set the box on the seat beside him. He glanced back at Mack who'd fallen back asleep in her car seat before grinning over at Sam. "Let's go."

Sam also glanced back at the sleeping child and then hurried out of the car and after his brother. "So, this kid Troy," one of the deputies was saying. "He's dating your daughter, isn't he?" The other deputy nodded. "Yeah." The first deputy- Jaffe- according to his name tag nodded back. "How's Amy doing?" he asked. "She's putting up missing posters downtown," the other deputy replied. "You fellas had another one like this just last month, didn't you?" Dean interrupted.

Jaffe looked up at his voice, straightening up to talk to him. "And who are you?" he demanded. "Federal marshals," Dean lied smoothly, flashing the ID he'd gotten from the box. "You two are a little young for marshals, aren't you?" Jaffe narrowed his eyes. "Thanks, that's awfully kind of you," Dean laughed. He moved closer to the car the deputies were examining. "You did have another one just like this, correct?"

"Yeah, that's right. About a mile up the road. There've been others before that." Sam chimed in, "So, this victim, you knew him?" Jaffe nodded. "Town like this, everybody knows everybody." Dean circled the car, looking around. "Any connection between the victims, besides that they're all men?" Jaffe shook his head. "No. Not as far as we can tell."

"So what's the theory?" Sam moved over to stand next to Dean. "Honestly," Jaffe sighed, "we don't know. Serial murder? Kidnapping ring?" Dean smirked. "Well, that is exactly the kind of crack police work I'd expect out of you guys." Sam stomped hard on Dean's foot, smiling at Jaffe. "Thank you for your time." He started heading back toward the Impala, Dean following. When they were far enough away from Jaffe and the other deputy, Dean smacked Sam upside the head. "Ow!" Sam cried. "What was that for?"

"Why'd you have to step on my foot?" Dean snapped. "Why do you have to talk to police like that?" Sam returned. Dean moved in front of Sam, forcing him to stop walking. "Come on. They don't really know what's going on. We're all alone on this. I mean, if we're going to find Dad we've got to get to the bottom of this thing ourselves." Sam cleared his throat, staring over Dean's shoulder. Dean turned to see the sheriff and two FBI agents.

"Can I help you boys?" the sheriff asked. "No, sir, we were just leaving," Dean answered. He nodded at the FBI agents as they passed by. "Agent Mulder. Agent Scully," he muttered. He and Sam got back into the Impala, driving into town. When they arrived, they spotted Amy hanging up missing posters of Troy, just like Jaffe and the other deputy had talked about. Dean carried Mack as they approached her. "You must be Amy," he got her attention. "Yeah," the young woman nodded. "Yeah, Troy told us about you. We're his uncles. I'm Dean, this is Sammy. And this is my daughter, Mack."

"He never mentioned you to me," Amy replied skeptically, eyeing them warily. She turned, walking away and they followed her. "Well, that's Troy, I guess. We're not around much, we're up in Modesto," Dean lied. "So, we're looking for him, too," Sam interrupted, "and we're kinda asking around." Another young woman came over to Amy, putting a hand on her arm comfortingly. "Hey, are you okay?" she asked. "Yeah," Amy nodded.

"You mind if we ask you a couple of questions?" Sam asked both young women. They headed to a diner, Sam and Dean sitting across from Amy and her friend, Rachel, in a booth. Dean sat on the outside so he could bounce Mack on his knee comfortably while they talked. "I was on the phone with Troy," Amy explained. "He was driving home. He said he would call me right back, and... he never did."

"He didn't say anything strange, or out of the ordinary?" Sam asked as Mack babbled, dropping her rabbit. "Uh oh." Dean smiled down at her, reaching down to pick up the rabbit as Amy replied to Sam's question. "No, nothing I can remember." Sam nodded. "I like your necklace," he told her. Amy reached up, touching the pendant- a pentagram circle- and looked down at it. "Troy gave it to me. Mostly to scare my parents," she laughed, "with all that devil stuff."

Sam laughed a little, looking down then up. Dean looked away from Mack to glance at his brother. "Actually, it means just the opposite," Sam explained. "A pentagram is protection against evil. Really powerful. I mean, if you believe in that kind of thing." Dean scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Okay. Thank you, Unsolved Mysteries." He leaned forward a little, subconsciously still distracting Mack with the toy as he spoke. "Here's the deal, ladies. The way Troy disappeared, something's not right. So if you've heard anything..."

Amy and Rachel exchanged a look. "What is it?" Dean pressed. "Well, it's just..." Rachel began. "I mean, with all these guys going missing, people talk." Sam and Dean replied in unintentional unison. "What do they talk about?" Rachel swallowed, shrugging. "It's kind of this local legend. This one girl? She got murdered out on Centennial, like, decades ago." Dean looked over at Sam again, who was staring intently at Rachel as she spoke. "Well supposedly she's still out there." Sam nodded, encouraging her to continue. "She hitchhikes, and whoever she picks up? Well, they disappear forever."