Thank you for all of your amazing support! I cannot thank you all enough. If you have any requests or ideas for future chapters, please don't hesitate to reach out! I love bouncing ideas around with others.

Huge shoutout to the fabulous Emma Winchester 424 for co-writing this two-part chapter with me like six years ago! And another gigantic shoutout to Nevertoomany for being my beta. They are both FANTASTIC writers and have Dean/Daughter and Sis-fic stories, respectively. If you haven't read them, then you're missing out!

As a note, FanFiction now requires you to opt-in to receive email story alerts. I apparently live under a rock and just realized this. So be sure to enable this feature in Account Settings to be in the know when Part 2 is added :)

Read, Review, but most importantly ENJOY!

It was an average Thursday in the Winchester house, nothing out of the ordinary this evening. Just a mundane day in March as the leaves were starting to return on the trees lining the roads. The temperatures had been warming up over the last few days, much to everyone's pleasure. For someone growing up in Gen Z, Emily had quite the appreciation for all things outdoors thanks to her father.

Sam and his twelve-year-old daughter Emily were sitting at the table, enjoying a nice dinner of mac with low fat cheese. It was Sam's mission to make sure she ate a balanced diet instead of hotdogs and funyuns like he had. Eating dinner together was the usual and comfortable routine that Sam had made sure to put into place years ago.

"So how was work, Dad? Did you throw any more bad guys in the slammer?" Twelve-year-old Emily smiled, loving the new word she learned from her Uncle Dean, the cop. He had all kinds of fun and exciting stories that he shared when they talked. If anyone could fully make up a career and embellish fake stories flawlessly, it was Dean.

Sam grinned and looked at her sideways. "The slammer? Really?"

She crammed another bite of food in her mouth and replied, "Yeah, Uncle Dean said it's the cool way cops say 'jail.'"

He scolded gently, "Don't talk with your mouth full. And when did Uncle Dean teach you that?" He scooped another forkful of mac and cheese into his mouth.

She sighed and exaggerated as she munched on her food until she swallowed it. "Last time he was here. I asked him where you were and he said 'putting evil sons of b—,'" she stopped before saying the word. Even though she was quoting her uncle, she knew she'd still get in trouble for saying it, so she corrected herself. "I mean, 'putting evil people in the slammer!'"

Sam gave her a stern look in warning after almost hearing that word, but he didn't comment. "Well, as a matter of fact, I did win my case today." He was grinning a bit and ducking his head, thrilled that she was interested in his work.

Emily took another bite and forced herself to wait until she swallowed before replying. "Good job!" she praised. "Hey, what's the baddest bad person you've ever put in the slammer!?"

He chuckled a bit at her being so delighted to use the words Uncle Dean taught her. At least they were appropriate words. "Well, let me think..." Life as a public defender led him to see a lot of interesting cases, but he enjoyed it. He knew what it was like to live from whatever money one could, trying to make ends meet, so he had wanted to be able to help those that needed it most and had no other way. "Let's see...the baddest bad person I ever put away was … this guy who was stealing from a whole bunch of his workers by not paying them overtime. I helped them get their money back, and the guy went to jail so he couldn't steal anymore. How's that?" He ate another bite.

Emily smiled with pride. "You saved the day! Who knows, maybe I can be a lawyer one day and help people, too," she said nonchalantly, clearly having put little thought or planning behind the words.

He leaned over towards her. "And you'd be a great lawyer, peanut. You could do anything you want to, and be great at it." Those were the words he had longed to hear from his own father, so he'd never stop himself from telling his daughter. She smiled and nodded in agreement; of course she could do anything she wanted to. Why wouldn't she? Today she'd be a lawyer, yesterday it was a teacher, and tomorrow it would probably be a veterinarian. She took for granted having a supportive father because she'd never known otherwise. Sam leaned back in his chair and asked, "How was school today?"

"School was 'kay. We played kickball in gym though."

"Nice! Did you win?" He scraped his plate, finishing his dinner.

She pouted slightly. "No, because my team sucked." As an extremely competitive person, she hated losing at anything and everything, and she never hid it.

Sam smothered a smile, knowing that her competitive nature was eating her alive over this. "Well, hopefully you'll get 'em next time. So what else happened at school today?"

She shrugged her shoulders as she finished the last bite of her food, trying to think of something interesting to share about her day. "Uh … we had pizza for lunch."

"Always a good day. You finished?" He pointed to her plate.

She placed her silverware on the plate and held it up for him. "Yeah, thanks for supper, Dad."

"You're very welcome." He dropped a kiss on top of her head before taking their plates into the kitchen and putting them into the sink. He called over his shoulder, "Any homework tonight?"

"Nope." She popped the "p." "Miss Gray didn't give us any." And that was the truth. Her teacher hadn't handed out any homework, but only because there was a project due the next day. One that had been assigned over a week ago. One that had completely fallen off Emily's radar.

"Really?" Sam looked over his shoulder at his daughter, not quite accusingly, but finding "no homework" suspicious. "Nothing at all?"

"Sometimes miracles really do happen."

"Ha ha. Go check your folders and make sure," he instructed. He trusted Emily to not lie, but he also knew that kids embellished the truth or forgot things. Once she headed for her backpack, Sam turned around to start washing the dishes.

As she opened her backpack, she commented playfully, "Oh come on, Dad. Why don't you believe in miracles?"

Sam just shook his head and smiled. He wasn't going to tell her why he didn't believe in miracles anymore. He had never told her, and if he had anything to say about it, he never would. With a chuckle, he replied, "Just check your folders."

Emily rolled her eyes, a bout of pre-teen annoyance at her father that he luckily didn't see. She opened up a folder and leafed through the papers quickly, clearly just doing it to please her father, and then stopped suddenly when she saw the purple one. Without realizing it, she gasped in a low voice, "Uh-oh."

He may have been out of the game for a while, but he still had a hunter's ear. Sam turned off the water and looked over his shoulder at her. "Uh-oh?" He raised one eyebrow, a magical skill all parents suddenly developed when they had kids.

She quickly closed the folder, not wanting him to come over and grab it just yet. She stood up and delicately walked toward the sink. She held the folder behind her back and said steadily, "You have to promise not to get mad..."

He took his hands out of the sink, turned around, and put his hands on his hips. His words completely betrayed his face. "I won't get mad. What is it?"

She slowly took a few more steps closer to him. She instantly picked up on his tell-tale signs of pending anger on his face. "You're already mad."

Sam exhaled to reset his emotions because he knew this wouldn't go anywhere otherwise. He smoothed his face over, and it was calm, but he didn't take his hands off his hips. "I'm not upset. Tell me what it is."

She dug her right foot into the ground and swiveled it back and forth like she always did when she was nervous to tell him something. "I, um, I think I forgot to do something."

He lifted one eyebrow and crossed his arms, ready to demand an explanation. "You think you forgot?"

She didn't want to meet his eye. "I did forget ... to do something," she confessed with immense remorse, already feeling guilty. If there was one thing she hated more than losing a game, it was when her father was upset with her. It had always been something that she couldn't handle.

Sam closed his eyes, praying this was going to be an easy one. "What did you forget?"

She exhaled softly. "A project that's due tomorrow." Finally, she forced herself to meet his eye, knowing she had no choice but to face the music right now. She breathed shallowly, trying to gauge how upset he was.

"Emily Marie..." He looked at her, his eyebrows retreating even higher into his hairline. "How many times have I told you not to leave things till the last minute?" This honestly wasn't like her to flat out forget, but she was a repeat offender for leaving projects until the last minute.

Once she heard her first and middle name, her eyes darted to the ground as she moved her foot around on the ground like she was squashing an imaginary bug. "But I told you about it last week ...," she tried to offer as an excuse to get some of the heat off her.

Sam searched his brain, trying to remember, but he was coming up empty. "Last week? And it's due tomorrow?"

"Yeah, you were in the office and I said 'Hey Dad, I have to do this project on a family member' and you asked 'who?' And I said either you or Uncle Dean. Then you went 'okay.'" Sam had been so wrapped up in paperwork for a case at home that the words hadn't fully hit him, but Emily knew this was her responsibility and she completely forgot. She was just hoping to lessen the intensity of the blame that her father was about to put on her.

He very vaguely recalled that conversation. "And why didn't you start the project right then, young lady?"

"Because it's like an interview. And you were busy working and Uncle Dean's not here to ask," she explained truthfully.

Sam swallowed and dropped his arms, feeling slightly guilty. He hated that his little girl felt he had been too busy to help her in that moment, which was on him. He took a deep breath, trying to squash his frustration. He'd have a talk with her later about staying organized and how to write a successful to-do list, but right now they had to get this project finished. "Alright then. Let's get going on it, okay? What do we need to do?"

Emily felt her heart start to beat again and her shoulders relax when Sam didn't scold her - he wasn't that upset with her after all. What a relief.

She quickly dove back over to her backpack and retrieved a notebook and pencil before sitting down at the table. "It's a report. We are supposed to ask our grandparents or someone old a bunch of questions about their lives. That's due tomorrow. And then compare and contrast it to our own personal answers for next week. I told Miss Gray that the only old family members I know are my dad and uncle, so she said I could do it with you." She smiled not seeing any offense because in her eyes, every adult is "old."

With that comment, Sam was reminded that Emily had next to no family in this world. She'd been able to know her maternal grandparents when she was younger, but they too passed away long ago, and it was really only her, Sam, and Dean now. Yet again, Sam shoved aside his feelings on the matter and returned to focusing on the task at hand, shaking his head as he snorted a laugh. "Thanks for calling me old." He reached over and ruffled her hair as she swatted him away. "So what kind of questions are you going to be asking?" He was really hoping they weren't going to be up late tonight working on this—Emily needed sleep and if he were honest, he needed some too after his draining day at the office.

She replied, "Questions about when you were little. Because Miss Gray wants us to learn how things were and what other people did when they were kids like us. Then I'll write a report with your answers and compare them to mine."

"Oh." His brain spun for a hot second. His daughter knew very little about his past, and he'd kept it that way for a reason. He'd always been scared of slipping up and exposing some part of his past that had to do with the supernatural, leading her to be suspicious of him or give her a reason not to trust them after years of building an open relationship. This was also why he and Dean never spoke about anything like that when she was within earshot. It was too risky and he wasn't about to burn down all that he'd built. His internal panic was short lived, because he had to get his act together for Emily. He thought to himself- I'm a lawyer. I can talk my way through this. It's a freaking sixth grade assignment. This is nothing. I've lied to feds before - not that I'm proud of that - but I succeeded. With a bout of confidence, he responded, "Alright kiddo. Let's do this." He sat down by her at the table. "What's the first question?"

She picked up her pencil and opened her notebook. "Okay … first I have to write your whooooooole name." She giggled because she never got to call her dad by his first name without chiding. "Sammmmuuelll" She drug it out as she wrote. "How do you spell your middle name?"

Now it was his turn to roll his eyes at her but he smiled at her pleasure in drawing his name out. "It's Jonathan." He spelled it out for her.

She diligently wrote down his middle name and then looked back at the handout. "Okay...number one!" She read it silently to herself first before speaking. "What town did you grow up in?"

Sam fidgeted for a second. Great. An uncomfortable question right off the bat. "Well ... We moved around a lot when I was a kid, so I don't really have a town I grew up in."

Emily stared at him and blinked a few times, not liking his long answer because it just meant more for her to write. "Can't you just pick one?"

Even though he knew she was trying to take a shortcut on the first question, he wasn't about to protest and have her pry more than necessary. He had no choice but to let it slide this time. "Uh … sure. How about … Lawrence, Kansas." Because out of all the towns that he was in, technically he lived there the longest.

"Okay..." She wrote it down. "How did your parents choose your name? Did you have any nicknames?" Before he could answer, she interrupted, "I know the last one: Uncle Dean always calls you Sammy!" She laughed because she knew how much he hated it when Dean called him that.

"Well, I was named after my grandfather. My mom's dad." That was as much as he wanted to say- he prayed she didn't ask what her great-grandpa did for a living. "As for nicknames..." He gritted his teeth. "Yeah, your uncle calls me Sammy." He pointed a finger at her and said jokingly, "Don't get any ideas."

Emily was completely excited by this new bit of information about where his name came from. "Did you know my ..." She paused as she drew a family tree in her mind to get the right name. "My great grandpa?"

"Sorry, peanut, uh … I never met him. Don't know too much about him at all."

"How come you never met him?" She was getting off track from the questions, but sheer curiosity was guiding her now as they'd never really touched on these topics before. It wasn't something a pre-teen went around asking the adults in their life.

"He, uh ..." He cleared his throat. "He died before I was born. What's the next question?" He tapped her notebook, trying to push her away from the hard topics and keep moving.

To his relief, she accepted his answer and moved on. She scanned the list of questions, deciding not to do them in any particular order. "Umm...what jobs have you had?"

"Just a lawyer … that's it." Easy as pie.

However, his smart daughter couldn't comprehend his answer. "No, the question means what did you do before you were a lawyer, Dad." She was shocked he hadn't understood it properly. It had seemed straightforward to her.

"Oh, uh, well … I was a student in school. I, uh, worked in the university library for a while. Does that count?"

She looked at him with slight confusion mixed with a dash of disbelief but she didn't press the matter further because she was on a mission to get this done. With a grin to make Dean proud, she commented, "You're such a nerd, Sammy!"

He gave her a really? look, before an idea sparked. "Hey- you know what the difference between you and Uncle Dean is?" She shrugged her shoulders. "I can't take away Uncle Dean's TV privileges if he calls me 'Sammy.'" He was now grinning at her with raised eyebrows.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, Dad." She held up her hands in surrender, not wanting to risk TV being taken away. Once he gave her an approving nod, she moved on. "Okay, the next question is a long one. What world events had the largest impact on you and your family growing up? Like space travel and presidents dying, those kinds of big events."

" Let me think..." This one had Sam stumped. All of the major world events that impacted his family's life was his FAMILY'S doing. The yellow eyed demon creating an army, releasing the seven deadly sins, not to mention the end-of-the-world Apocalypse. But he decided to go with something else because he had no other option here. "Well- when I was younger, your grandpa and I didn't exactly get along. He used to be in the military- before he was a mechanic- and he liked for your uncle and I to behave a certain way. And, well, I didn't like it. So, I left for college in 2001. I didn't speak to your grandpa for about a month. But on 9/11, when the attacks happened on the World Trade Center- your grandpa called me at school to make sure I was okay. We didn't talk for long- I was still mad. But later, that call meant the world to me." Sam smiled and looked away, wishing he had had the chance to tell John that.

Emily beamed, loving the stories that she'd never heard before. She was learning all kinds of things, starting with the fact that her dad apparently didn't get along with his dad. "Why didn't you guys get along? Was Grandpa mean? You're mean at times, but I don't think we could go a long time without talking," she confessed, unable to imagine a long period without talking to her dad.

However, Sam only picked up on one thing. "You think I'm mean?" he said lightly, but he was wary. If his daughter thought of him like he thought of his father...

"Yeah, you're mean when you take away the TV or wash my mouth out with soap. So, I don't like you then." She said it like the answer was obvious.

Sam gave a relieved chuckle as air filled his lungs again. The confirmation that he wasn't like his own father was reassuring. "Well, I don't like it when you do stuff that makes me punish you. So, don't do it, and we'll be all good, deal?"

"I don't try to get in trouble. It's like tonight. Sometimes I just forget about things. But my favorite dad wasn't mean and isn't going to punish me, right?" She flashed him her sweet innocent smile, but secretly hoping to confirm that he wasn't truly mad about all this.

"If my favorite daughter finishes her homework sooner rather than later, then she's in the clear." He chuckled at her cuteness. "Alright, peanut, next question," he pressed on.

She grinned from ear to ear. "I always knew I was your favorite." He smiled back and shook his head before pointing to her paper. "Fine. It says...who was your childhood hero and why?"

"Well- I'd say my childhood hero was..." He decided to take the honest approach on this one. "...your Uncle Dean. Because he was my big brother who always looked out for me."

But his response took her by surprise. "Really? Uncle Dean? But I thought you said he was always mean to you when you were little?"

Without missing a beat, he replied, "He was. But he also was the only one who stuck with me, too."

"And he's still sticking with you now," she commented as she wrote down his answer and then added, "I like Uncle Dean, too."

He reached out and put a hand on top of her head. "Good. But don't tell him I said any of that, okay?" He chuckled, knowing she was going to do it anyway and then he'd have to live it down. "What's the next question?"

"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?