Disclaimer: I don't own any characters here but Angel Winchester. Kripke and Whedon are the ones to thank for SPN and BtVS!

Note: This story contains violence and death, please be forewarned.



He was going to die. Demons, vampires, wendigos and werewolves had all tried and failed to end Dean Winchester’s life, but fatherhood was going to do the trick.

He hadn’t meant to put Angel in danger. They didn’t bring her along when they actually went looking for trouble. When trouble found them, though, “That’s her, boys, the Winchester kid. Grab her and lets get the hell out of here” well, that was what her training was for, right? She was good, they'd taught her well. So why was his heart beating so hard it was about to shatter his ribs?

Six years old was young, even for a Winchester, but her small hands gripped the pistol firmly, finger steady on the trigger just the way they’d practiced as she leveled the barrel of Dean’s gun he’d lost it when the baseball bat hit the back of his head at the man moving toward her. He was a man, too, not a monster at least not a supernatural one and that was confusing the hell out of Dean. What the hell did a handful of human guys want with Dean's kid? There were two men holding him down, one kneeling on his chest with a gun on him and the other struggling to bind his hands as he fought them fought to get to her. He could hear Sam on the other side of the car shoes scuffing the pavement, fists on flesh struggling with at least two others. Dawn was lying on the ground, there’s blood on the blacktop, it looks like oil unconscious, not too far from where Dean was being held.

“Don’t come any closer.”

Her voice rang out, high and clear he could hear the slight tremble, she was scared in the cold night air. The man in front of her smiled, his hands out at his sides as if to show he was harmless and he kept moving forward, slowly now.

“Put the gun down, honey, before someone gets hurt,” he told her and her eyes narrowed damn, she looked like Faith at him.

“’M not your honey,” she told him. “Stop moving or I’m gonna shoot you.”

The man just smiled and kept coming closer and Dean saw him reach back metal glinted in the moonlight to the waistband of his jeans.

“Gun, Angel, he’s got a gun!” don’t let him get closer, baby girl, kill his ass Dean shouted. He saw her finger tighten on the trigger, saw her chest heaving she’s terrified, if she kills him she’ll have to live with it forever as she struggled to stay calm. She bit her lower lip, the way she did when they practiced shooting and he knew she was aiming she was a good shot, almost never missed at either the heart or the head. Dean forced his eyes away from Angel they’d deal with the fallout later at least she’ll be alive to see her attacker pulling his gun. A shot rang out Dean’s heart stopped and the man fell dead to the pavement, a bullet through the side of his head.

The two men holding Dean down were startled enough by the shot Sam standing in the moonlight, holding his gun, breathing hard, his lip bleeding from the fight as he saved his niece from having to pull the trigger, take that life that he was able to throw them off and get to his feet. He scrambled across the pavement their attackers were running away and he couldn't bring himself to care, all that mattered was her and fell to his knees beside Angel, taking the Colt from her hands and thumbing the safety on before dragging her harshly against his chest. She clenched small hands in his shirt and he felt her release a shaking breath.

“Did they hurt you, Daddy?” she asked, her voice muffled by the way she’d pressed her face into his chest.

“No way, baby,” he promised shit, his hands wouldn’t stop shaking as he stroked her hair.

“Did I do good?” she asked, raising her head to look up at him tears shone in her eyes and Dean wanted to bring the bastard back to life and kill him again.

“You were awesome,” he told her. She looked behind her, toward Dawn Sam was helping her sit up and her eyes were open and then back at Dean.

“You think she’d be proud of me?”

Dean blinked, for a moment thinking she meant Dawn and then he realized that reverent tone of voice was reserved for only one person she meant Faith.

“Yeah, Angel,” he told her, his voice rough. “She’d be damned proud of you.”