Thank you for the reviews and love from Part 1! I hope you enjoy how this one wraps up.

Big thank you to Emma Winchester 424 and Nevertoomany! They are not only amazing writers but also wonderful humans.

Read, Review, but most importantly ENJOY.

"Next one...What is your favorite childhood memory of your dad? And your mom?"

"Oh." And Sam was right back in uncomfortable land. What the hell was he going to say? "Well- um- my dad … he … uh … he bought Dean and I these little green army men. And they were so cool. I remember this one time, he had just come home from a … job ... And I asked him if he wanted to play with us. And he did." Sam didn't tell her that was the only time he remembered his dad playing army men with them- she didn't need to know that. "As for my mom- well...you remember that I told you she died when I was a baby. So, I don't have any memories of her."

"Grandpa sounds fun. It's like when you used to play legos with me. I'm going to write that as a comparison between us." She fervently made note of it, while she commented without really thinking about the words that were coming out, "You were a baby when your mom died?" She knew that her grandma had died, but the idea of her dad losing his mom when he was young...it reminded her of losing her mom at a young age. And it was a connection that she hadn't quite made until this moment.

Sam wanted to reach out and take his daughter in his arms- he knew what she was thinking. But he held back, seeing as how she was getting older and wasn't as receptive to his embraces as much. So instead he replied, "Yeah, yeah I was." He watched her face closely for any reactions.

She smiled softly but it was full of regret and sadness that she was realizing they had more in common. "So, you don't remember anything about your mom either." It wasn't a question but a statement.

Sam was torn- because he did remember. He had memories of her- appearing and saving him in their old house, coming to him when he was detoxing from the demon blood...but he couldn't tell her that. So, he just cleared his throat. "Nothing at all."

Emily slowly nodded her head in silent understanding. "I don't remember Mom except for the pictures you've shown me." She paused for a moment before the unfiltered question was spoken. "Is it strange to miss her even though I never even knew her? Like I know that I can go talk to her at night, but it's not the same as knowing her, you know?" There wasn't any sadness in her voice. It was like she was finally able to voice a question that had been rolling around in her mind for some time now.

Sam smiled warmly, trying to show her that these questions were welcomed and nothing to be ashamed or embarrassed about. "It's not strange at all. You are a part of her. Now that she's gone- it's kind of like a part of you is gone. But remembering her- remembering who she was, even though you don't remember her per se, it's keeping that part of her with you." Sam felt a small ache in his heart again at remembering all that he'd lost in his life.

"So, we both get to carry around our moms." They shared a sweet moment of silence as their eyes locked, but Emily was quickly able to recover and return to the task at hand, even though Sam would have loved to talk about the topic more, since she had never really opened up unprompted like this before. But he knew not to push her. "We are like halfway done!" she exclaimed in a sudden change of demeanor as she was able to quickly disconnect from the moment of vulnerability. She scanned the list for the next question. "Hhmm…What was your least favorite chore to do as a kid?"

Because of the honest moment they just shared, he felt more relaxed than ever with her and his response was out of his mouth before he could stop it. "Rounds." The second the word crossed his lips, he clamped them shut in horror. How was he going to work around this one?!

Emily's brow furrowed in confusion. "What's 'rounds?'"

"Uh ...I mean … rounds … around the block. We … uh … had to run for … our health. Dad made us run to keep healthy, and it felt like a chore." Although that wasn't far from the actual truth, he prayed that she'd buy into this without much thought.

However, she was clearly not buying it. There was suspicion in her eyes because her dad rarely fumbled over his words like that. And running around the block? That just seemed … odd. "But why didn't Grandpa just let you go to the park and play soccer or something fun instead of running around the block?"

Sam got his crap together. "Oh- I played soccer too. But we weren't always at a place where we could go to the park- some places didn't have them. So, we had to substitute running around the block sometimes. Make sense?"

Her brow was still furrowed as she tried to make sense of this in her twelve-year-old mind. "But why would he make running a chore?" She was not ready to let this go just yet. The idea of being forced to run was too foreign to her. That kind of thing only happened in gym class.

"What's the next question?" he tried to push.

"You didn't answer my question." Her persistent, stubborn side was coming out and Sam suddenly felt like he was the one on the stand in the courtroom. "Why would he make running a chore?"

Sam stared at the ceiling for a moment before returning his glance at his daughter. "It felt like a chore. But it was just to keep us healthy. C'mon, if we don't finish this soon, neither of us are getting any sleep tonight."

She countered, "If it was to keep you healthy, then how come you don't make me run like your dad did?"

He grinned, seeing a loophole. "You want me to make you run?"

She tried to shrug nonchalantly. "I wouldn't care if you did." Which was a total lie, but she couldn't see him following through with it. "What other chores did you have to do?"

Sam welcomed the chance to change the topic. "Your uncle and I traded off doing laundry and cleaning. I didn't have a room to keep clean like you do."

"Wait, you had to wash your own clothes?" The concept, yet again, seemed so foreign to her. Emily always helped fold clothes and put them away, but her dad would never let her use the washing machine for fear that she'd either ruin their clothes in hot water or flood their laundry room with suds.

"Yup. Uncle Dean and I did the laundry from the time we were six on. It was...a lot to deal with. What's next?" He wanted to get through this as quickly as possible, and he hated toeing the line between truth and lies. It had been awhile since he had had to do it, and he really hated doing this to his daughter. She deserved better than his crap-filled lies.

"But why didn't Grandpa help you wash clothes?" Because if her dad didn't let her wash clothes, she couldn't understand why his dad had let him. It seemed so contradictory in her mind.

"My dad was busy a lot of the time. And if we wanted clean clothes, we had to do it ourselves."

"It sounds like Grandpa made you and Uncle Dean do a lot of things." It wasn't said with hate or accusation, but like an innocent observation. A father who made their little kids wash clothes just so they'd have something clean to wear and run laps around the block? It was a concept she couldn't relate to and had a hard time imagining her father growing up like that.

Sam smiled again, but looked away. "Yeah. He did." He shook his head once and looked back at Emily. "So. What else is on the list?"

Emily sighed, knowing her dad was cutting off that conversation and she gave in, wanting to get it all over with. Checking the list again, she asked, "What was your favorite thing to do as a kid and what is it now?" Sam was about to open his mouth but she cut him off. "And you can't say spending time with me! That's cheesy, Dad." The pre-teen in her couldn't handle that corny stuff from her dad like she used to. And there was no way she'd write that in her actual report! The absolute horror!

"Well, then, what am I supposed to say? It is my favorite thing." He gave her a cheesy I-know-I-just-told-a-dad-joke smile.

"Daaaaaaad," she said in that low, "I cannot believe you said that" voice that she would come to perfect over the next few years. She huffed before continuing, "What was your favorite thing to do as a kid and what is your second favorite thing to do now?"

"Okay, okay. Favorite thing as a kid- I loved to read. Anything and everything I can get my hands on. I guess that's pretty true now too- I just don't have enough time." He thought for a moment. "Hey- what's your favorite thing to do?"

Emily seemed to think about it before retorting, "Well I can tell you it's not spending time with Old Man Sam." She smirked at the other nickname Dean would throw at him every now and then.

Sam didn't know if she was joking about her comment or not, so he snorted a laugh and looked away. "Alright. Noted." It stung, but he didn't want to let her know that. "So what's the next question?"

Emily immediately knew she hurt his feelings and regretted her stupid joke. "I'm just kidding, Dad. I like hanging out with you, sometimes or whatever." She quickly diverted her gaze as she had to keep up the appearance of a moody girl, even though she really did like spending time with him whenever they were actually able to do it, especially watching their favorite show Jeopardy together.

Sam chuckled. "I guess I can take sometimes-or-whenever. You just don't like it when I beat you at Jeopardy- that's all it is." He grinned, teasing her back now.

That instantly brought back her spark like he knew it would. "Yeah, well, that's only 'cause you're super old and have had more time to study and learn things! I'll beat you one day!"

"Yeah. Keep dreaming, kid." He laughed. "Next question." He needed her to finish this assignment and get to bed at a decent hour.

"Hhmm...it looks like we are getting closer to being done. Let's see...describe a typical family dinner. Did you all eat together and who cooked the food?"

"Uhhhhh..." And he was at a loss for words again.

"Come on, Dad. It's not a hard question!"

Sam shook his head. How little she knew. "Well … a typical family dinner was usually just your Uncle Dean and I. And it usually came out of a paper bag."

"A paper bag? You mean like fast food?" There was a bit of excitement in her voice at hearing this news, seeing as Sam rarely let them eat fast food. She was more than ready to pounce on this bit of information and turn it in her favor.

"Exactly. Which is why we had to run all the time- to keep ourselves fit from eating all that garbage."

"So, if I start running, I can eat all the junk food I want?" The idea was so thrilling to her … even though she knew it was about two seconds away from being shot down.

"Yeah- no. No junk food."

"But how is that fair? You got to do it when you were a kid … you're like a..a ..." She tried to think up the word. "A hypocrite." She knew she was being pushy, but it just didn't seem fair that he got to do something as a kid that she was being denied.

His eyebrows hit his hairline at that comment and he wasn't about to let it slide. "Excuse me, young lady?"

The eyebrows, tone, and "young lady" made her recoil. Her eyes darted to the table as she slouched down in her chair more. She stayed silent for a few seconds, but felt the need to quietly defend herself. "But, Dad, how come Grandpa let you do it but you won't let me? You're not being very fair." The last sentence was mumbled almost under her breath.

His tone became stern, ready to put an end to her attitude. "Because junk food is bad for you, Emily. There's a lot of stuff that your grandpa made me do that I don't make you do, so be grateful for that. Do you understand me?" He was not too eager to get into the finer details here, so he was hoping that his tone and words would cut through the attitude, and she'd understand.

But she didn't heed the warnings. She was not wanting to pick a fight but this conversation had definitely turned into her wanting answers before he shut her down completely, which would be any second judging by his tone. "Like what things? You got to—"

He interrupted her. "Emily- this is not open for discussion right now. Do you understand?"

She sat back against her chair and knew this fight was over before it ever really began. So she said the same thing she said every other time he used that tone and phrase with her. "Yeah, Dad, I'm sorry." But there was a bit of authentic remorse behind her words because she did hate making her dad annoyed with her.

"I forgive you. Now let's finish these questions, okay?" He reached across the table and gave her hand a squeeze.

Emily half smiled before she sat up and looked down at the paper again. "It's the last one. Okay, so. What's the scariest and most amazing thing that's ever happened to you?"

"Ahhh..." And he was gobsmacked again. What is he going to tell her?! And what the heck kind of teacher came up with these ridiculous questions anyway. In a quick reflection, he realized that all these questions would have been very cool for Emily to ask a grandparent. But instead she got stuck with his lackluster lies. He took a deep breath. "Well- do you want the truth?"

She reached over with her left hand and picked his hand up, forcing him to press their palms together. "Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?" She didn't even bother to hide her grin at her lawyer joke.

He flat out laughed at her. "I do."

She acted very proper and replied, "Very well, sir. Proceed."

Sam took a deep breath and went for it. "The scariest and most amazing thing that ever happened – was when your mom told me she was pregnant with you. And don't roll your eyes at me." He grinned, stopping the eye roll before she could do it.

And his words did stop her from the eye roll that was coming. "But why were you scared to have me?" There was a slight fear underlying her voice that maybe her dad hadn't wanted a kid at all.

Sam decided to put it all out on the table and be completely honest with her for at least one question. "Because I was afraid I was going to mess it up. Because there was going to be this little tiny baby in the world because of me- and I didn't know what to do." He cleared his throat, but then looked her right in the eye. "My dad and I didn't get along. And so- I felt like I never really knew how to be a dad. And you were going to need me and depend on me. I knew I had to be the best I could ever be, because you would need that. I wanted you so bad- your mom and I both did. I wanted to be the best dad ever, just because you were so important to the both of us. And I was scared I was going to fail."

There was a comfortable moment of silence as Emily processed everything her father just said. She was taken aback by how honest his answer really had been-revealing a side of him that she had never even known existed. Her dad was scared of failure...of failing her? That had never been a blip on her radar. Finally, after a few more moments, she asked, "And when did the fear go away? When I was born?"

"Who says it went away?" he countered instantly.

For the first time in a very long time, Emily was speechless. How could he have failed her? Her mind flashed to all the loving and joyful moments she'd spent with her dad, and how she would cherish those forever. And she knew the perfect way to have him see that, too. Getting a glimpse into this rare side of her dad made her feel a need to help him, even though he wasn't asking for it; he never did. But deep inside, she wanted to share something with him. Maybe he didn't know he needed her at this moment. But there was something special about their bond, a deep connection that not many fathers and daughters shared. She suddenly stood up and waved for her dad to follow behind her. "Come on."

Sam was surprised- he didn't know what she was doing. He didn't stand up, just yet. "Is the interview over?"

She reached down and grabbed his hand, tugging for him to stand up. "Stop being a lawyer and asking so many questions." She put one hand on her hip like an authoritative parent. "Now come."

Sam just gave that charming sideways smile and stood up. "Yes, ma'am. Lead the way."

She led him into his home office that was on the other side of the entry way. They stopped in the middle of the room and she spun on her toe, motioning to everything around them and then stopped, facing him. "What do you see?"

He had no idea where she was going with this, but he was intrigued. "My…office?"

She rolled her eyes at his logical answer. "Yeah, but what's all around your office?" She motioned with both palms around the room.

"Uh … books, pictures, my files … furniture?"

"Okay, good." She patted him on the upper arm like a little kid who just got a question right. "And what do you notice about the pictures?"

He smothered the grin that was forming at being treated like the child. "That they're with all of us. You, me, your mom, Uncle Dean- the whole family."

She picked up the nearest photo off the bookshelf. It was a photo of her and Sam when she was probably 5 or 6. They were baking cookies for a school bake sale and it turned into a disaster. There was flour everywhere in her hair and Sam even had some icing on his nose that she'd placed there. They were grinning from ear to ear in laughter.

She held the picture up for him to look at. "See that smile? I'm happy, Dad. I've always been happy with you. I mean, sometimes you make me mad and we fight. But that doesn't mean you've been a bad dad. It probably means I was bad actually." She laughed. "So don't be scared anymore. You've never failed at being a dad." She paused for a moment to let it sink in. "And all these smiles?" She motioned around to the pictures scattered in the room. "They prove it." She spoke like a young girl wise beyond her years, a real testament to how she'd grown up.

Sam couldn't even speak for a moment. The fact that his daughter just told him, straight up, that she thought he was doing a good job- that meant the world to him. "Come here." He kneeled down and opened his arms to her, inviting her into an embrace.

Emily smiled and threw herself against her father, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck. It had been a long time since they'd embraced with such affection.

Sam didn't want this moment to end. He hadn't had many perfect moments in his life, but this…this was without a doubt one of them.