"I wonder what we're going to do now," your dad says and takes a seat at his desk. He reaches for his alcohol bottle, but you snatch it from his hand before he can take a sip. "Hey, unless you're planning on drinking it, hand it over."
"I'm not going to drink it. You're not either. Today won't be about wallowing in grief, pity, and worry. We're going to get our minds off Sam and Dean because we can't do anything until twenty-four hours are up, right? No use is getting gray hair now," you scoff and set the bottle off to the side.
"I'm not going to wallow in grief, pity, and... worry, yes."
"I know you're not over Rufus' death. Every night since it happened, I put nothing but good dreams into your head. You get a good night's sleep because of me. I know you still have nightmares because I have to take them away. I did that for you when you died and Sam jumped into the cage with Lucifer."
"Yeah, well, I didn't ask you to," he sighs.
"You didn't have to. You're my dad. I want you around when my daughter is born. I need you to be... well, you. Okay?"
"When is are you due, anyway?"
"In about two months. I can't believe I've been pregnant for six and a half months. I'm not so lucky, though, because I hear new moms have it a lot worse with Braxton Hicks, morning sickness, and always having to pee," you chuckle.
"Are you ready?"
"Not even close. I've been so busy with Sam and his soul and now Eve that I didn't have time to pick up an actual parenting book about all this."
"Let me tell you right now, those parenting books are shit. They never prepare you. No one can prepare to be a parent. Whether you have one kid or five... all of them are different. Your mom tried to get me to read them, but I never did."
"Are you saying I'm going to have five children?" you laugh.
"No, I'm saying that don't pick up a book. Parenting is all about experience, and if it were up to me, I'd say you're already ready."
"I am?" you ask nervously.
"How long have you been taking care of those boys? Me? You're ready, Y/N. You were made to be a mother."
"I don't even have anything for her. I don't have a crib, a changing table, diapers, clothes–" you stop yourself short when you come to the realization that you're giving birth in about two months, and you don't have a lick of anything. "I don't have anything. I am so unprepared!"
"Why don't we go right now? We can go to the store and pick out some stuff. We'll need to find you a permanent home to keep it all, though."
"I'll keep it here. You wouldn't mind, would you? One-on-one time with your granddaughter if I need to go out and hunt?"
"I'd be honored," he grins tearfully.
"Okay, then let's go! I'll meet you in the car. I need to get something, first."
"Okay."
Your dad heads out to the car while you head upstairs to your room. Every single time you come home to visit your dad, you've added money that you've made from hustling other people in pool or darts. You've racked up a nice wad of cash over the many, many years that you've done this. Sam and Dean don't know you did this, or else they'll have you blow it all.
When Dean grabbed the rabbit's foot that one time and got all this cash from scratch-offs that he won, you got a good chunk of the forty-six thousand dollars that he won. To get technical, he gave you twenty thousand of it because he loved you. He wanted you to use this money for important things, so you saved it. Then, Bela (the con artist who gave you nothing but trouble) handed over five thousand dollars for when she sold a hand that she stole from a certain rich lady that had the hots for Sam. You added it to the pile.
You have all this money you never knew what to do with, and you know baby stuff is really expensive. It's time to put a dent in that wad after all. You don't want to bring the entire amount, so you only cough up six thousand dollars just in case things run on the pricy side of things.
It's time to go baby shopping.
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It's good to finally get out of the house, to have your dad be preoccupied with getting baby stuff instead of focusing on Rufus and the Winchesters. Luckily, there is a baby store in the city, and that's where you two are right now. It's a big place, and your cart is already almost full with things like a changing table, bottles, a crib, stroller, some clothes, an automatic baby swing, and other necessary items needed for your baby.
"Hey, I don't know if I have enough money saved for all this," your dad begins, but you're quick to stop him.
"I do. I've been saving over the years from hustling and winnings that the brothers and I have come across. I've saved a lot of money."
"How much?"
"Over thirty grand," you mutter.
"Excuse me?"
"Yeah, don't tell Sam or Dean. If they knew, then Dean is just going to make me spend it or will blackmail me into giving it to him. He's very persuasive when he wants to be. I just want that stash to be for me when and if I need it. I use some of it to get motel rooms separate from them, but that's about it... until now."
"Go Y/N," your dad praises.
"Thanks. So, don't worry about the prices. I just want to make sure we get everything that she's ever going to need."
"In that case, you're going to need one of these."
He reaches over and grabs what's called a Diaper Genie. You're not familiar with the item, and when your dad sees the confused look on your face, he just chuckles and heaves it into the cart.
"What is it?"
"It's where you store the dirty diapers. It can fit quite a lot, so it's handy if you decide to bring her to motels for when she's still breastfeeding–if you decide to do that."
"Wait, I know this is going to be a stupid question, but why can't I throw it away in the garbage?"
"This also neutralizes odors. You don't want those dirty diapers stinking up the motel rooms, do you?"
"No, and this is going to be an even more stupid question, but why can I go to the dumpster and throw it out there?"
"Say Sam and Dean aren't with you, okay? You're going to go out to the dumpster ten times a day?" he chuckles.
"What the fuck? Ten times a day?"
"Maybe more. All a newborn baby does is eat, sleep, and poop. They're pretty boring. Just wait until they start potty training," he laughs.
"You act like you've done this before. You left my mom before I was born," you say quietly.
"Yeah, I did, but I've taken care of my fair share of children. I'm just glad by the time I found John Winchester, those boys were already done with this all."
"Yeah, well, my daughter is going to need someone like you taking care of her when I can't. You sure you don't mind doing this?"
"Y/N, you don't understand how happy I am that she's almost here. I'm very proud of you," he grins.
"Thanks, Dad," you smile right back. "Well, ten times a day or not, it's going to be worth it when she finally gets here."
You quickly move throughout the store, finding things you want and things you think your daughter will love. You're not sure how easy she is going to be, so you basically get everything you lay your eyes on. You come across the shelves that store the items for the mothers like burping towels, diaper bags (which you have two of), a baby carrier blanket so the baby can hang off your chest easily, a portable changing pad, nursing pillow, nipple cream for when your nipples become bruised and raw from breastfeeding, and other goodies you know you have inside your cart.
However, you come across an item that you're not sure what it does or how it works. It says it's a breast pump, but again, you're not sure what to do with it.
"What the hell is this?" you ask, and your dad just laughs as he heads over.
"That, my dear, is a breast pump."
"Yeah, I know what it says. What does it do?"
"It for extracting the milk that's in your... breasts. If the baby can't latch onto the nipple, then you can suck the milk out and put it in a bottle."
"I shouldn't be talking to you about this, should I? It's too weird," you blush and put it in the cart.
"I don't mind."
"Are you sure? I can find some blogs to join online that I can find new moms to talk about this with."
"I'm sure, Y/N," your dad smiles.
"Okay," you chuckle.
Your eye catches some of the baby clothes a few aisles over, and you leave the cart unattended to check them out. There are different color onesies, small shoes and socks, and they all look very adorable. The shoes are so tiny that they don't even fit the entire size of your palm. Just thinking about your daughter being able to wear this is making you think about when she finally gets here and thinking about that makes you think about you and Dean and how she even became conceived in the first place.
Tears unknowingly slide down your cheeks, and your vision gets blurry very quickly. Your dad look over at you and approaches you from the side. He sees the tears, but he doesn't know who or what they are for.
"Y/N, what's wrong?"
"These are so cute," you sob quietly, "and so tiny. I bet she's going to be so tiny and vulnerable."
"Is that all that's bugging you?" he asks and takes the shoes from you to place them in the cart.
"No," you sigh sadly.
"What's going on?"
You wipe your eyes to clear some of your vision, but you know that your eyes are red and puffy. After taking a deep breath, you talk about what's really been bugging you for a while now, but you never had the guts to come out and talk about it.
"It's Dean and me... This isn't how I imagined being here and buying all these things. I imagined Dean and I going together and picking out the things we both loved. I imagined us decorating her room together with little stuffed animals that I know would be useless to her, but she would love to look at. I imagined having this baby because Dean and I were ready to have kids, and after we were married. I imagined being married to Dean when I finally got the good news that we were expecting...
"This isn't how I imagined any of this... and it sucks because it's not all my fault. It's his for not listening to me in the first place. It's Lisa's for taking him in when she knew Dean and I was in a complicated relationship. All I want is to make up with Dean and move on, but I just don't see that happening, so where does that leave us? We're having a baby together, and he's still with another woman. I miss him, dad, I really do."
"I know this isn't how you pictured things, but it's what you got. Now, do I wish things were better for you? Hell yeah, I do. Do I wish you didn't have to go through what you're going through? Absolutely. But it is what it is, and you can either roll with it and try to make it better, or you can be stuck in the past. Dean has to make his own decisions, and while you may never get rid of him because of this baby, you can separate yourself from him. I'm rooting for you, honey, and that's all we can do at this point."
"Yeah, I know," you whisper with a sigh.
"I think we got enough stuff here. Why don't you do some more shopping while I bring everything home, okay? I'll pick you up later. This old man needs a break," he chuckles.
"Are you going to be okay by yourself?"
"I'm old, not crippled. I can handle an afternoon by myself."
"Yeah, I know. I just worry about you."
"It's not your job to be worried. Now, let's get this stuff paid for, and we can be on our merry way."