A/N; Here it is - my second uploaded story! So excited for this one - its a longer piece that will have multiple chapters (to be published after I edit and format them for publication). Thanks for reading!

Chapter 1

Difficult Decisions

The growling of a powerful engine echoed across the countryside as a gleaming black '67 Impala sailed down the county road. The asphalt path cut between wheat fields, the golden seeds and chaff illuminated by the bright, damp sunlight that was just now reentering the world, signaling a new day. The trees glittered with dewdrops that dangled from tender leaves. Mist rose off the earth, cut by shadows and sunbeams to cast an ethereally striped haze across the land. It seemed a glimmering start to a hopeful day.

Hopeful for some.

Dean sat, pensive, behind the wheel of his Chevy, his brother absently gazing out the passenger side window at the unfurling landscape beyond the glass. It had been a long night for both of them. Nothing special, but long nonetheless. Digging up graves to salt and burn bones never got any easier, especially at two in the morning with a hot-headed poltergeist hard on their case. But it certainly wasn't cause for the hard silence that surrounded Dean as he drove, and Sam (being Sam) noticed.

And – Sam being Sam – he mentioned it.

"You all right?" he tossed the question lazily over to his brother, accompanied with a casual glance.

There was a pause in which Dean's jaw tightened briefly before he spoke; "What do you think of that Hurstwine family? The couple – Doug and Pam – seem like decent people to you?"

Sam thought for a second, "Yeah, they seemed fine."

"Fine, fine, sure they were fine," Dean murmured irritably.

"Were you wanting a bit more detail or something?"

"Well… yeah," grumbled Dean, "I mean, they weren't just… fine, right? They were… nice, friendly, moral, weren't they? Am I just goin' nuts here?"

"No, no, they were definitely… all those things. Some of the most normal, genuine people we've met," Sam agreed.

"And their son, Matt…. He seemed like a nice kid, right? Happy… wasn't going to need therapy or anything in the future. Well, I suppose with the exception of the poltergeist living in his parents' master bathroom."

"Yeah," replied Sam. "Great kid, I thought."

"Yeah, I thought so, too…," Dean drifted, gazing absently at the road.

Sam watched his brother for a while with an inquisitive expression across his face. He finally broke the silence, his curiosity getting the best of him, "Dean, what's up? Why are you so interested in this family all of a sudden?"

"I was just thinking, Sammy…," there was another moment of silence while Dean gathered his thoughts, "I mean, they seem like the most normal, human people we've met in a long time and… responsible and caring."

"Dude, seriously, what is up? 'Responsible and caring'? I didn't know you knew those words," chided Sam.

"Hey, shut up – I've been responsible and caring all my life, just never cared to actually use those adjectives until recently," Dean snapped back.

"So why now?" persisted Sam.

Dean gazed out across the flat, black surface once more; "I want to ask Doug and Pam if they'd take in Alex."

The only sound was that of the Impala's rumbling engine while Sam sat frozen, gazing at his brother, a look of grief-stricken surprise plastered across his visage. Dean cast a glance over at this still image once or twice before deciding the error in Sam's expression was caused by a lack of explanation.

"Like, adopt her," he elaborated.

"Yeah, I get that," Sam bit back. He then worked to gather together his words, "You… you want to give up Alex?"

Dean looked somewhat disgruntled at this, shifting in his seat, "Not exactly how I'd like to put it, but yes."

"How would you like to put it?"

"How about… giving my daughter the life I never had? That we never had. Safe and comfortable and normal," Dean replied.

"By handing her over to perfect strangers?" Sam shook his head in disbelief.

"They're not perfect strangers; we just eradicated a poltergeist from their house, spent three days working with them," Dean countered. "You just said they seemed like decent, kind people – the best we've met in a long time."

"I didn't mean, 'Oh, yeah, they seem like great parents for Alex – she can go live with them for the rest of her life,'" Sam argued. "Dean, why would you even want to do this?"

"I don't want to do this; I have to do this."

"No, you don't."

"Yes, I do! Sam!" Dean sighed, a gravely growl coming from his throat. "I wake up in the middle of the night because – because a twig breaks outside our motel window and my heart stops beating because I am terrified that if I look over, I'm going to see a heap of bloody two-year-old on the floor! Every time we go on a hunt, I can't help but think, 'I hope nothing's going after Alex while we're away.' And that's not even what bothers me, this continuous, gut-wrenching fear. It's annoying, but it's not what bothers me. All the tension I have and all the nervousness bouncing around in my chest, keeping me from breathing like a normal person, it's all worth it just to see her smilin' face in the morning and hear her laugh and watch her discover the world. Just the way she somehow manages to find some good in this hell-hole we call our home, and it make me feel better about living in it, but dammit, Sam… all the while I'm seeing the beginning of our crappy childhood. Living without a real home and surrounded by a beat-up, worn-down, run-ragged family of real cynical bastards. And there's so much innocence just in her eyes… so much hope…. I can't put her through what we went through. Not if I can help it."

Sam's voice was quiet, "It wasn't all that bad."

"No, it was," Dean retorted immediately. "And don't you dare try and go against that, because, let's be honest, Sammy, you are lyin' out your ass."

Sam sighed in reply.

"It's better this way, it really is," Dean continued. "You gotta see it; you know this is right. She's safer and happier the farther away she gets from us."

Sam ground his teeth, looking defeated. "You're right. If she can have a normal life… we should give that to her."

"Damn straight," Dean spoke quietly.

They traveled another mile or so before Sam looked over and spoke once more; "Are you going to be able to do this?"

Dean gave Sam a questioning glance, "What do you mean?"

"I mean, I'm just her uncle and I'm dying inside thinking about it. Dean, you went and sold your soul to Hell to bring me back when I kicked the bucket – how are you going to handle losing your daughter?"

"Easy," replied Dean with his utterly typical nonchalance, "Giving her up means she's not going to die. Just like selling my soul means you didn't die. Or, at least, didn't stay dead."

Sam gave a tiny sniff of laughter. "So you're just going to continue to suffer so that the people you care about don't have to?"

"Hey, what's family for?" Dean replied. "We just happen to be living an exaggerated case."

Sam sighed. "Yeah, I suppose."

They turned into the motel parking lot and pulled into a vacant space. Just as Dean turned off the vehicle, a tiny, round face framed in thin, blonde hair peaked over the sill of a second floor window, looking down at them. The expression of excited expectancy quickly turned to bouncy jubilance.

Dean smiled. "I swear to god, she knows the sound of the engine already," he said as he and Sam stepped out of the car. "That's my girl." Only a moment after the words passed beyond his lips, he felt his heart sink seemingly out of his chest to the gravel that ground beneath his boots.