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Father Knows Best

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Summary: She'd always been convinced it was true; but as she started the engine and gave a lingering glance at the only family she truly had left in the rearview mirror, she couldn't stop the feeling that this was only headed for the worst.

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Supernatural > Buffy-Centered > Theme: Real Family(Recent Donor)BuffyCharmedFR1511,733252,1533 Nov 073 Nov 07Yes
Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy or Supernatural.

A/N: Hey everybody. I just saw the November site wide challenge and used an idea I've been toying with. Hope you like!

It was raining that night. The night when everything changed.

It wasn't a light rain or a drizzle or something a waterproof jacket could easily take care of. The rain pouring down that night harshly beat down upon everyone and everything with a fiery determination that would remind someone of the spirits of some of the very people it was drenching.

Standing in a parking lot of the latest cheap motel they were currently residing, the petite and defenseless looking young blonde woman was quite a contrast to the atrocious weather surrounding her.

Salty tears were already running down her cheeks as she stood before the gruff man in front of her. Emerald orbs glistened looking into her father's soft brown eyes.

"I can't"

John Winchester looked into the eyes of his daughter, and in doing so his heart nearly broke even more than he thought possible. She looked just like Mary with her beautiful blonde curls and expressive green eyes. If he thought his wife was the only person capable of making him feel this way when they cried, the tears of his beautiful baby girl cut like a knife through his gut. Closing his eyes for a moment, John attempted a calm sigh.

"Lizzie...You know if there was any other way I'd figure it out."

She shook her head in denial, wrapping her arms around herself. "No, no I can't do this. I know I said...I know I said I could but...I, I just can't." Lizzie broke off, unable to utter any more in her emotional state. And she couldn't. There was absolutely no way that she could do what her father asked of her.

It had been a few years now since Mary Winchester had been victim to the will of that evil son-of-a-bitch- whatever the hell kind of demon it was. To Lizzie, it seemed like only moment ago that she had just been helping her mother sing Sammy to sleep, and even shorter since she'd been witness to the burning of her body on the ceiling. From that moment on, especially after her dad spoke to Missouri Mosley, Lizzie had been second only to her father in commanding the troop that was the Winchester clan. The notion of demons and evil spirits probably should have scared the hell out of her. If any other teenage girl would have come across this same revelation, they would most likely run screaming in the other direction. For Lizzie, however, this invoked the exact opposite.

This demon, this yellow-eyed bastard that took away her mom served to fuel a fire that she didn't know existed within her. Lizzie knew that a fire couldn't take the credit for taking her life. No. And when she learned that there was a living (if not breathing) being out there that she could make pay, it was all she needed to venture out with her father during every hunt.

Did John agree with this? Hell no. When she'd announced to her father that there was no way in hell she was standing on the sidelines when she could be getting revenge, a no holds barred yelling match invoked between the two in the middle of the night that kept both of her little brothers up and cringing. It was only when John saw his daughter on a hunt- a hunt that he most definitely didn't sign off on letting her on- that he realized he couldn't hold her back. The quick actions, the sheer emotion behind every attack, and the way she moved told him that this wasn't the first time she'd fought a demon and won. In fact, later he'd find out that she'd been hunting from the very beginning behind his back; sneaking out and taking care of the things that would have gotten him had she not been there. She'd trained with guns, swords, crossbows, and absolutely any other weapon she could get her hands on. By the time they were hunting together regularly, there was nothing that stood a chance against the anger that she used against her enemies as she fought.

Dean was incredibly jealous of this.

Lizzie continued to reassure Dean that he could hunt when he was old enough, and told Sam continuously that she would protect him. It was an interesting contrast, how Lizzie managed to deliver such cold cruelty when she hunted, yet was the most gentle, caring older sister you could possibly imagine. Though she was incredibly passionate about the hunt, she never left if they needed her. She was always there for them, and that was probably because of one reason.

They didn't have a mother.

Dean was able to remember and reminisce occasionally on the good things he could recall about Mary. Poor Sammy was too young to be able to remember anything.

Lizzie, though, had truly been treated like a princess by her mommy. They had been so much alike. They would go shopping, stay home to watch movies and gossip like she was a teenager herself, and she was always there to lend an ear and a shoulder to cry on. The oldest Winchester sibling remembered her mother clear as day, and she could hardly believe the woman that had raised her and was practically her best friend was well and truly gone.

She knew there was no way she could be a fitting replacement for such a wonderful person, but she only wanted to give her little brothers comfort, to make them feel like even though everything was in utter chaos, they would always have her.

"They need me," Lizzie grounded out with almost angry tears.

"Dean's growing up, and he's been taking care of Sam."

She huffed with clenched fists. "That is complete and utter crap. They're only little kids; you can't tell Dean to play the parent while you're out hunting. I'm not mom, but they need someone to look after them when it's too dangerous for them to be alone."

"You think I haven't thought about this?" John said, growing frustrated. "I wish to God there as a way to change this, but you heard Whistler, you have a duty."

"Screw duty!" Lizzie practically screamed in her father's face. "Screw the damn Hellmouth, because I don't give a hell what goes on in Sunnyhell if my family's getting maimed because I listened to a demon spew crap about destiny!" By this point she was seething.

Breathing heavily, Lizzie gazed into her father's sympathetic eyes. She saw something then, something she hadn't noticed before as she went through all the emotions she'd been going through, and her next words were said as a statement and not a question.

"You're not going to change your mind."

Of course she knew that they would have quite a tiff over this, but never in a million years did Lizzie think that her father couldn't be shown what a momentous mistake this was.

When the annoying little balance demon claimed that she had a destiny on the Hellmouth, they figured he was just like any other demon; he lied. They tried desperately to dismiss it, dismiss him, but as they continued to hunt and couldn't ignore the fact that her strength and skills were even more honed than was possible for a small girl such as herself to have. When they were told that she would be required to guard the Sunnydale Hellmouth in southern California, however, Lizzie fully intended to continue to live life with her family and continue the hunt.

Yes, they'd fought so much about that particular subject; There was no way she could willingly give up on the quest to avenge her mother. How could he tell her to leave them? To leave the hunt and her family?

She looked away from him then, in favor of moving towards little Sam and not-as-little Dean. Even now the two continued to show their completely different personalities. While Sam couldn't hide the beginnings of tears, Dean tried against all odds to prevent her from seeing the weakness.

"You know, " she started, crouching in front of the elder brother, "Sometimes it's okay to have a 'chick flick' moment." She tilted her head and smiled a sad smile at his attempt to do the same. "Come here."

She enveloped them in her arm, never wanting to let go. "You know, I don't know how I'll live without these hugs."

As she let them go, Dean attempted to look as if not caring as he shrugged and said "You don't have to go."

"I kind of do, or did you not hear me and dad over there?" Neither of them smiled. She sighed.

"Listen to me you two," she said, looking them both in the eyes as she sat between them under the shelter of the motel with her arms around their shoulders, pulling them towards her. "Anytime you need me, anytime, just call me and I'll be here quicker than you can say 'demons suck.' No matter what, if you need me, you better call me, no matter what daddy says, all right?"

Sam and Dean nodded.

She reluctantly let them go and stood up. As she started walking away, she finally heard Dean say "I love you Lizzie." She couldn't stop the smile that touched her lips. Dean had said continuously that he was too big a man to say things like that. Turning around, touched by the scene of Dean holding Sammy who was waving shyly (always the quiet one) Buffy gave her own little wave and said, "Love you too, Bro."

Using her keys, she unlocked the door of the cheap car and opened the door. Turning, she saw her dad looking at her sadly, and she couldn't help rushing to him for a hug. Running rough fingers through her hair she heard him mumble "I'll miss you baby"

She finally let go, getting into her car.

She kept repeating to herself that father knew best; she'd convinced herself of this over the years. Yet as she started the engine and allowed herself a lingering glance in the rear view mirror at the only family she truly had left, she couldn't help but feel that it was headed for the worst.

For now, she had to start a new life. She had to go to Sunnydale. Grimacing, she thought I have to be Buffy.

The End

You have reached the end of "Father Knows Best". This story is complete.

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