It started with a voicemail.
Disclaimer.- Whedon and Kripke are keeping them safe for me.....
AN - I have decided to go a little alternate universe here in order to meld them. Some things will remain the same, but a lot of things will be different in small ways.....like no shrimp....except I like shrimp.....As always reviews will be loved and given a good home. Also this story being posted will be the last new one for a while. I am starting an updating cycle to see if I can stick to it....I think I have enough fandoms to keep my muse from wandering off, unless they think of a one shot. Okay enough of my rambling.
“This is John Winchester. I can't be reached .If this is an emergency call, call my son Dean: 8669073235, he can help.” With a shaky breath she dialed the new number and waited.
“This is Dean, leave a message”
“Hi, I am looking for John Winchester, he um left your number to call. I am not sure this qualifies as an emergency, but looks like he knew my mother. She has recently passed and I was calling to reach out to see if he needed closure, and to talk to him, I feel stupid leaving all of this on a message. Look please let him know. My name is Buffy by the way, daughter of Joyce Summers. Funeral is in Sunnydale in two days. Thanks.” Buffy clumsily hung up the phone and walked back inside the house bracing herself before she delved back in to dealing with her mother's estate.
Before heading back into the room that was her mother's to organize more paperwork, she stopped in her room and hid the yellow legal paper in the vent in her room, to keep it from prying eyes. No one needed to know now or maybe ever that Hank Summers was not her father.