Bobby Singer had always been a lone wolf, but that changed when he discovered he had a daughter, Y/N. She was the spitting image of her mother

One day, Dean and Sam Winchester rolled into Bobby’s salvage yard, their Impala kicking up dust

“Hey there,” Dean said, flashing his signature smirk. “Need a hand? “

Y/N looked up, wiping grease off her hands. “I think I can manage, thanks.”

Bobby, watching from the porch, narrowed his eyes. He knew that look on Dean’s face all too well