Dean can't lie, he hadn't been expecting a girl.

None of that sexist bullshit. It's just, fatherhood's complicated enough for him, already. Being a single dad aside, he had only just settled down- and even then, sometimes, he had to go on hunts with dean- but one look at that squirming angel's face and he wondered, how in the Hell his Dad had ever raised them on the road like that. Because he knew one thing for certain; he was never letting his precious girl get in harm's way. Ever.

Figuring out raising a kid, all by himself, let alone a girl seemed more daunting than locking up Lucifer. But he'd done that, okay. So it only figures that he'd work this thing out eventually.

he used to cheer at your ballet recitals like he was in a mosh pit or watching some sports on tv; he always used to get funny looks from the other, much older, parents- but he never cared, to him it was you two against the world.

but now you were growing up, and he was having a very hard time realising that you wernet a little girl anymore; you were a teenager.

you also had issues- a lot of issues, ones dean was too afraid to face. You reminded him of a younger version of himself, and it hurt him endlessly.

he woke up late one night, going to the toilet, but he stopped as he passed your room, hearing you grunting and groaning sickly. He pushed open the door and stood next to the doorframe, his heart dropping as he sighed, watching you; you were wasted again and laid on your bed, trying not to vomit, your eyes disoriented. He'd struggled with alcoholism hiself; but he'd rather struggle with it again than see you- his little girl, his baby- struggle with it.

"Hey...hey, sweetheart..." he said softly, crouching beside the bed to make sure she was okay, concern on his face as he stroked her hair. He could hardly scold her.

like daddy like daughter, right?