Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or Dean, Sam, John or Bobby. Em is a character of my own, though.

-E.

There was a knock on my door. In any other house I wouldn't be freaked out, but since this was a new town and my mother had just left, I was a little tightly wound.

As I got my mother's knife out of my pillowcase, I made my way down to the front door.

"Who is it?" I demanded.

"Detectives Hector Aframian and Richie Sambora," a familiar voice replied.

Richie Sambora? I thought. "Yeah, and I'm Pat Benatar, who are you?" I repeated.

'Hector Aframian' replied, "Ok, alright, let us in and I'll explain everything."

I cautiously opened the door. I gasped.

"Dad?'

Dad nodded.

I looked up into the green eyes that were exactly like my own. I remembered the first night that dad left us...

Memory

"Daddy! Don't go! Please! Daddy, I'm sorry if I've been bad, I'll be good I promise, don't leave, Daddy!" Three year old Em cried as her father walked out the door. She turned to her mother, "Mommy, tell him he can't leave!"

Dean picked up his daughter and held her close, "I'm sorry baby, Grandpa needs me. I'll talk to you soon, ok?" He held her close for another minute and walked out the door.

I looked up at my father, "So I guess Mom called you?" I asked him, handing him one of the beers in my fridge. He glared at me with a livid expression until I put it back in the fridge. I bit my tongue as he replied.

"Yeah," he said, motioning me forward and putting his arms around me, "That's why I'm here. To take care of you, like I should have been doing all along. I'm sorry I left, Em. But there wasn't a single second I didn't want you. I have this photo of just you and me, just after you were born. I looked at it every night leading up to now." He pulled out his wallet and showed me the picture. Dean Winchester was grinning madly at the camera, holding a baby wrapped in a hospital blanket.

I flipped the photo over. It read:

"Dean with his daughter, Em, 23/4/93"

Tears ran down my cheeks as I handed back the photo to my father.

He looked down at her, "You're my baby. Always will be." He said.

Sam cleared his throat, "Hey, Em," he greeted me, "I'm your uncle Sam."

I looked up at Sam, who was almost twice my height. He noticed my disbelief.

"No steroids or anything. I promise you," he grinned.

I grinned back, "Nice to see you, Uncle Sammy." Sam rolled his eyes as Dad stifled a laugh. My face turned serious as I looked up at my father, "what are you doing here anyway, dad?"

Dad's eyes sparkled. I didn't screw up this kid, he thought.

"You're a minor. I'm your parent. You're coming to live with me and Sammy."

I scoffed. Quickly becoming frustrated, "But, why? I'm sixteen... Dad..." I whined. It took all of Dad's concentration not to smile at the way that sounded.

"Emmanuelle, don't argue with me. You can go and pack your stuff by yourself, or I can get Sam to help you."

I glared at my father as I stalked out of the room.

Twenty minutes later Sam was piling all my stuff into my father's '67 Chevy Impala. When he lifted up my pillow, Dad looked at me.

"Put it in the back with her, she might get tired." He said, scrutinising my face.

I groaned, "Dad, I'm not a kid, I can manage to stay awake in car rides... Don't break my iPod, Sam, it cost a bucket load."

Sam turned my iPod on and scrolled through the music, "Well, at least we know she's definitely your kid, Dean. Look at this. Metallica, AC/DC, Nirva—you shouldn't be listening to that, Em," he disapproved.

I stuck my tongue out at him, "Bite me, Uncle Sammy."

Dad chuckled, "I can deal with the music. But not the dating crap. You better not be dating yet, Em," he added, frowning at me.

I bit my tongue. How to explain this without bringing up the "V" topic...I thought.

"No, sir. Whenever I wanted to date Mom always said, "would your father approve of this guy?" so, I don't date."

"Was I always a hard-ass or something?"

I blushed, "Kinda."

Dad laughed.