Jemma Winchester One Shots

Even My Dad Does Sometimes

I'm sad. Like, really sad. I was having a fantastic week, then one thing happened and it was like knocking over dominoes. But at least Christmas is here and I won't have school for a week.

Word count: 1,177

Warnings: spoilers for season 12

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It's been two hours since Mary left. Dad and Uncle Sam went to their rooms, and they haven't left them since. In all fairness, neither have I. I keep replaying the moment in my mind.

I'm sitting on my bed, working on an essay for English when someone knocks on the door. "Come in," I tell them. The door opens slightly, and Mary pokes her head in. "Hi." I smile at her.

"Hey, Jemma." She pulls out my desk chair and sits in it. "I need to talk to you."

At that, my heart starts to beat a little faster. I shut my laptop lid and set it aside, swinging my legs off the edge of my bed. Mary reaches out and takes my hands, squeezing them gently. "I want you to know that what I'm about to say has nothing to do with you, or your father and uncle. You three have been nothing but kind and helpful since I came back. The way your father talks about you—he's so proud to be your father. But I have to leave. This... isn't my life. I never wanted to be a hunter, and I never wanted to raise my boys into the life. And my boys, my Sam and Dean, they're in Heaven."

"I don't understand..."

"I just need some time, sweet pea. I won't be gone forever. But I need you to do me a favor. I need you to watch out for your father and uncle after I leave. They're going to need you. Can you do that for me?"

I nod, unable to say anything else.

Mary lets go of my hands and moves her hands up to my cheeks. She presses a quick kiss to my forehead, stands up, and leaves.

I completely abandon the idea that my English essay is going to be done tonight. It's getting late. I should go to bed, but I can't. I get out of bed and quietly walk the short distance to Dad's room. I knock on the door softly. "Dad? Can I come in?"

"Yeah, sure," comes my dad's voice from the other side of the door. He sounds tired. I open the door and slip inside, closing it behind me. "Hey, Jem. Need something?" He rubs his hands over his face. His eyes are red, and his hair is all messed up.

"Are you okay?" It's a stupid question, and I already know the answer.

"Yeah, I'm fine, Sunshine. Why?"

I give him the bitchface. "You know why." I sit down on the bed beside him. "Dad, I know... what you're going through. Kind of. And you don't have to go through it alone."

"Jemma..."

"It sucks. Going through it alone, it sucks. And it makes you feel like crap, but you don't have to go through it alone."

Dad gives me a sad smile. "When did you get so wise?"

"I get it from you." I lean my head against his shoulder, and he wraps an arm around me.

"I'm sorry, Jemma."

"For what?"

Dad sighs. "Every time I left you. When I was a demon, when I went to kill Amara... I was always putting the world before you, and I shouldn't have. I just feel like now... it's payback for what I did to you."

"Dad, listen to me. You have been there for me through everything. You weren't putting the world before me, and I don't blame you for any of it. Mary didn't leave because she doesn't love you; she left because she's confused because she's been dead for thirty years. It's not your fault, Dad. It never is."

Dad looks down at me. "You are so grown up."

I wrap my arms around his neck. "I know."

"I love you so much, Sunshine."

"I love you too, Dad." I can feel warm drops of tears on my shirt. "It's okay, Dad. Everything's going to be okay. Why don't we watch a movie?"

Dad hold me at arm's length. There are tears falling down his cheeks. Despite the tears, he smiles. "Yeah. I would like that."

I nod. "I'm gonna go see if Uncle Sam wants to watch too."

Dad nods and I exit his room, walking swiftly down the hall to Uncle Sam's room. I knock softly on his door. "Uncle Sam? Can I come in?"

"Yeah, come in," he replies. I open the door. Uncle Sam is sitting at his desk, his eyes red and hair mussed as well. "Hey, kiddo. What's up?"

"Me and Dad are gonna watch a movie. You wanna come?"

He looks down at his desk, which has a box on it. I can see there's a bunch of little trinkets and pictures inside it. I recognize a drawing of a dog in a field of flowers. "I think I'm gonna have to—"

"You still have that?" I interrupt Uncle Sam's response. I cross the room and take the drawing out of the box. The paper is rumpled from being folded and the color has faded a little, but the memory is still vibrant in my mind. "I drew this for you for your birthday when I was seven."

"Yeah, I remember."

"You kept it all this time?"

"Of course I did. It wasn't that long ago. It was... Wow. Almost eight years. I guess it was a long time ago. You're going to college soon—unless you don't want to," he adds quickly.

I nod. "Yeah, I want to."

"Really? For what?"

"I want to be a surgeon."

"Really? That's awesome, Jemma. You'd make a fantastic surgeon."

"Thanks, Uncle Sam."

"You'd be gone a long time, though."

His comment catches me off guard. "What do you mean?"

"College, medical school... it takes a long time. You'd be away from here."

"I don't want to go far away. Besides, I'll come back for holidays, breaks... Then I'll get a job at the hospital closest to here. I'm not leaving you and Dad forever."

Uncle Sam takes the drawing from me, puts it back in the box, and stands. "You're right, Ace. I'm sorry. I'm just..."

"I know." I stand on my toes and wrap my arms around his neck. "I love you, Uncle Sam."

"I love you too, kiddo. I think I'll join you for that movie."

I smile. "Okay."

We go back to Dad's room, where he's setting up the Netflix. "Dude, you look like shit," he says to Uncle Sam.

"I look like shit? You look like shit," he retorts.

"You both look like shit. Now come sit down," I interrupt.

"Hey, watch your mouth," Dad warns, but he's smiling. I sit on the bed beside Dad, while Uncle Sam sits in Dad's desk chair. "Jurassic Park okay with everyone?" Me and Uncle Sam both nod. "Okay. Hey, we need popcorn."

I roll my eyes. "I'll go make some." I get up and leave, hearing Dad and Uncle Sam laugh behind me. It feels nice knowing that I was able to make them feel better, even if it is temporary.