A/N: Spoilers for season 12 from this point on!!
It had been about two weeks since Henley moved into the bunker. She had settled into one of the many bedrooms, learned about her grandmother that had come back to life, the angel Castiel, and the British Men of letters. From what Sam and Dean had told her she didn't trust The Men of Letters. She flopped back onto her bed, criticizing herself. The only thing she's failed to mention is that Dean is her father. Henley sighed as she stared up at the bleak white popcorn ceiling of her bedroom in the bunker. She had to figure out the opportune time and way to explain it all to him. Henley flipped over onto her stomach, just as the door to her bedroom creaked open. Henley rolled her eyes as Sam strolled in. closing the door quietly behind him.
"Henley, this has gone on long enough. You need to let Dean know. I gave you one week, it's now been two. You have made too many excuses and enough is enough. I'm headed into town to pick up some dinner, and by the time I get back Dean better know everything." Henley sucked on her bottom lip, nodding her head in agreement with Sam.
"Alright. I know I've taken way too long to tell him the truth, but I just have no idea how I'm going to say it. It'll be so awkward and awful. He's going to be so mad that I kept it from him this long. I just never had the courage to tell him. I didn't even have to tell you really, you just figured it out. It actually made it easier." she confessed, as Sam plopped down on the bed next to her.
"Listen, the longer you wait the worse it'll be. But I know that you are a strong and brave young woman, and you have the ability to do this. If you can take down a werewolf on your own, then this will be a piece of cake. Think of it like ripping off a band aid. Don't beat around the bush, just get to the point and make sure to give him a few minutes to wrap his head around it all."
"Thanks for the advice Uncle Sam." Henley sent him a sly smirk, as he rolled his eyes.
"Yeah, don't call me that. It makes me feel like an old bearded white man in a top hat." He ruffled Henley's hair, placed a kiss on her head, and exited her room. Henley waited until she could hear the sound of the garage door opening and closing before making her way out into the hall. She took a deep breath, closing her door softly. She made her way down the stairs and into the library where she saw Dean sitting at one of the tables, scouring the internet, and nonchalantly taking sips from his bottle of Beck's. Henley cleared her throat, walking over to the tall man. She slouched in the chair next to him, as he tore his eyes away from the screen.
"What's up kid? By the way, have you seen Sam?" He asked, relaxing into his chair.
"Um, yeah, he said something about going out to pick up dinner."
Dean smiled, stretching his arms up over his head before relaxing back into his chair. "Good. I'm starved, and could really go for a burger right about now. So, you want to work on your aim before Sammy gets back?" She shrugged her shoulders, reclining back into the chair. "I'll take that as a no." He let out a small chuckle, when suddenly he became very serious. "What is that?" he asked, pointing to the bracelet on her wrist.
"Oh, this it-it's nothing. Just a bracelet." Henley stuttered, tugging down her long sleeves to cover it up. Dean was not supposed to find out like this. "Listen Dean, I have something to—"
"No. People don't say something is nothing unless it's something. Let me see it." Henley sunk lower into the chair, and Dean rolled his eyes, reaching out and latching onto her wrist like a vulture, forcing her upright. She watched his facial expressions closely as he examined the bracelet. He turned the bullet over reading the engraving. "Wh-" Dean cleared his throat, "Where did you get this?" he whispered, though his voice was anything but soft. Henley yanked her wrist back, tears threatened to spill from her eyes, and she quickly rubbed them. "Where did you get that bracelet?" Dean repeated, teeth grit together so tight Henley thought he might actually chip a tooth.
Henley's lip quivered. "It was my mother's." Dean crossed his arms over his chest.
"What?" Dean asked, straining to hear her quiet voice.
"I said my mom gave it to me."
Realization dawned on Dean, at how she came across the bracelet, and she could see him concentrating really hard on trying to figure out when she was born. She thought she'd save him the trouble and rip the band aid off, although it was a little late for that.
"Dean, I-I'm your daughter."
He just stared at a her, a blank expression on his face. "I'm sorry; what?"
"I said-"
"I know what you said," Dean breathed out. "Why. . .how, I don't understand, I—" Dean massaged his temples, frowning deep in thought.
Henley looked down at her bracelet, futzing with the bullet. "In the year of 1998, most likely during January, my mom got pregnant. Her name was Caroline. My aunt Gemma, her sister took her in when she got pregnant. After my mom died, Gemma raised me all by herself. I always thought my father was a deadbeat, but I now realize that she just never told you she was pregnant. I know for a fact that you're my dad, because you were the only guy my mom ever slept with. Gemma told me, when I got older that there was only one person my mom was ever with, and that person was you, Dean."
Dean's brows knit together. "Why the hell didn't you tell me this earlier. It's been three weeks since I met you! What in the HELL made you think it was okay to keep this from me?" he proclaimed.
Henley stood up, letting out an exasperated sigh. "I could never find the right moment to tell you. I didn't want to tell you immediately because I didn't really know you, and then I kept getting worried, then Sam—"
"Wait, Sam knows!" Dean hollered, anger flashing in his eyes. Henley gulped, quickly realizing her mistake. "What does my mom know, what about Cas?"
"No, just Sam, he found out all on his own. I didn't tell him, he confronted me once he figured it out."
"Why didn't you tell me, and don't you dare say it wasn't the right time because it is never the right time!" Dean ran his hands through his hair, letting out a shaky breath.
"I don't know why, okay! I just, I was scared that you'd send me back to wherever the hell I came from. I mean, I didn't know what to expect when I first met you. I had figured you and Sam were hunters, and I didn't want to hear that lame excuse, 'It's too dangerous, I can't do my job and lookout for a kid. You need to go back to wherever you came from.' I didn't want to miss out on a chance to get to know my dad." Henley pouted, feeling tears form in the corners of her eyes, and took in a deep breath, widening her eyes in attempt to prevent the inevitable salty waterfall.
Dean frowned, clenching and unclenching his fists. His face held a somber expression, as Henley's revelation sunk in. When he finally looked up, she was surprised to see that he looked like he was about to cry. She'd never seen a man cry before, and she wasn't so sure she wanted to. " Get out."
"Wh-what?"
"I said: Get out. I need time to think, and I can't—I can't even look at you right now." Dean turned around, walking out of the library, and out of sight.
Henley choked back a sob, her face contorting into one of anger. Fine. This was just fine. She didn't need him before and she certainly did not need him now. Henley clenched her jaw, marching out of the library, up the stairs and outside into the crisp night air. She slammed the bunker door, kicking it with her foot for good measure. Henley huffed, walking up the small set of stairs and onto the opposite side of the road, plopping down onto the grass. She started rubbing her dripping nose with the edge of her long sleeve furiously, eventually giving up, and staring upwards into the bleak night sky. Her head fell down, as her throat tightened, and chest constricted, sobs wracking her entire body. She squeezed her eyes tight, tears falling freely down her face. The only thing running through Henley's mind was how she had found her father and let him slip through her fingers. If only she had been honest with him from the start.
***
Dean huffed, downing his fourth beer in a row. He turned to face the punching bag, narrowing his eyes at the black object, taking a swing at it. He couldn't comprehend why Henley didn't tell him the truth the second they met. Was she ashamed once she met him? Did she not want him to know so she could make a quick escape later? God, a daughter. He had a daughter. Karma was right to give him a girl. He took another swing at the punching bag, grinding his teeth. How could she think they would be okay after she lied to him. He popped off another beer cap, taking a swig of ice cold Guinness. He turned up the radio, Round and Round By Ratt blasting throughout the bunker. He focused his attention on the punching bag, drowning out everything, his poisonous drunk thoughts consuming him.
***
Henley's sobs had reduced to sniffles, as she scrubbed away the dried tears on her cheeks. She stood up, wiping the grass off of her butt, staring at the bunker door, as if it were going to come alive and swallow her whole. She chuckled at the thought, shaking her head. Henley started to slowly walk back to the bunker when a faint light caught her attention. She quickly dashed across the road, crouching on the stairs, her hand curling around the railing. She narrowed her eyes, quickly realizing it was headlights. Her eyes widened, and her grip on the railing tightened. Henley scampered down the stairs, mentally cursing herself for not bringing any form of weaponry with her. She pulled on the bunker door, nausea building in the pit of her stomach at the realization that she was locked out. Henley banged on the bunker door, as the car came to a stop on the road in front of the bunker. She gulped, realizing that no one inside could hear her. The music was so loud she doubted anyone inside would hear if a bomb went off. Henley crouched down behind the stairs, wedging herself as far into the corner as she possibly could, scraping her forearms in the process. Her hands trembled, as she curled them into fists. Henley jumped as multiple car doors slammed. Her brows knit together as she watched a group of four men in suits descend down the stairs. They all seemed relatively normal, at least they didn't appear to be demons. The man at the front of the group seemed to be the leader, as he knocked on the door. The man was tall, well everyone seemed tall to her, but he was still shorter than Dean. He had dark brown hair, and a receding hairline. Henley just hoped they would turn and leave without detecting her.
"Well," the dark haired man stated, "we might as well invite ourselves in. I'm in desperate need to have a chat with Dean Winchester about his reunion with his offspring."
Henley noticed the man had a British accent and instantly realized who these men were. The British Men of Letters just had perfect timing didn't they? No matter how mad Henley was at Dean, there was no way she'd let them hurt him. She clenched her jaw, standing up. "You want to talk about me? Why not just talk to me face to face?"
Three of the men startled, while the dark haired man just chuckled, slowly turning around. Henley growled, rushing towards them jumping on the shortest man's back. He struggled to get her off, slamming her into the concrete wall. Henley grunted, wrapping her arms around the man's neck, squeezing as tight as humanly possible. Two of the men had gotten out daggers, and were slowly making their way behind the man she had in a choke hold. In the spur of the moment Henley bit down on the man's ear as hard as she could, causing him to lean towards the left, just as one of the other men was about to stab a dagger in her back. He flew past, accidentally grazing the man instead of Henley. Henley let go of the man's ear, as he finally dropped to the ground passed out. She smirked, turning around to find the two men running towards her daggers raised. Henley stood in front of the staircase, arms crossed. As the men neared, she slid out of the way, watching as they crashed into the wall. Henley picked up the fallen silver daggers, gripping them tightly in each hand as she turned to face the last man, with the dark hair and psychotic smile. Her own smirk faltered, as the man let out an exaggerated simper, pulling a gun out of his jacket pocket. Henley gulped, making a dash for the stairs and darting up them. The man followed behind slowly, seeming to be in no hurry, as if he enjoyed the chase. Henley ran around his car, ducking underneath the passenger window. Her breathing was labored as she peered through the window, watching as the man sauntered up the stairs. Henley's eyes widened in surprise as he pointed the gun at her through the windows. She quickly ducked, right as the bullet crashed through both car windows. She shrieked, covering her head as shards of glass poured over her body, littering the ground around her. Henley clutched the daggers, her knuckles turning an unruly shade of white. She grabbed both daggers, sliding them into the belt of her pants, letting her over sized long sleeve shirt drape over them. Henley sneaked a peek at the man as he came around to her side of the car. She could defeat him, she was a Winchester for Christ's sake. She'd feign innocence, overpower him, and then wait for Sam to get back or hopefully get Dean to hear her and open the door. Henley turned her head to the ground, thinking about the fight she had with Dean, making herself tear up. She began to whimper, looking up when a pair of black shoes appeared before her. She peered up at the man, only to have the barrel of a gun pointed straight at her head. Henley gave him the best puppy dog eyes she could muster, wiping away her tears. The man only rolled his eyes, pressing the gun against her forehead.
"I-I'll go with you. I promise I won't make a fuss, please just d-don't hurt me," Henley cried, her lip quivering. He sighed, dropping the gun to his side, and holding out a hand for her. Henley gave him a gracious smile, taking his hand, as he helped her up. She stood up shakily, broken glass spilling off of her and onto the ground. The man reached around her opening the passenger side door, and Henley knew this was her chance. She acted like she was stuffing her hand into her pocket and grasped the metal hilt of the dagger. She whipped the weapon out stabbing it into the man's bicep. He screamed, clutching his arm. Henley spun around, running around to the other side of the car when a bullet tore through her shoulder, the piercing sound ripping through the silent night. She fell to the ground clutching her shoulder, screaming out in agony. Henley had never been shot before and man it hurt like a bitch. She groaned, tears streaming down her face, as her own cries of pain echoed around her. She peeled her hand off of her shoulder, only to see blood gushing out of the wound and all over her pale pink shirt. She stifled a scream as she clamped her hand over the entrance wound. Her vision of the empty night sky changed as the man loomed over her, pressing his foot down on top of her wound. "Agghhhhh, please stop!" Henley cried, writhing around in an attempt to shrug his foot off.
"Ah, ah, ah, love. You lied to me, and that needs to be dealt with. Can't have you lying during our sessions can we." The man removed his foot, slowly pulling out a rag from his inside blazer pocket, and dumping what Henley assumed was chloroform on it. She scooted backwards to the best of her ability, when his burly hand, and chloroform soaked towel clamped over her mouth and nose. She held her breath for as long as possible eventually giving in, breathing in the rotten stench. Her head lolled back as the man heaved her into his arms. She wanted nothing more than to get away from this horrid excuse of a human being. She weakly pushed against his chest, her movements becoming weaker by the second. After giving up fighting the man, she realized she had to do something so Sam and Dean would know what happened. Henley fiddled with the latch on her bracelet, grasping it in her right hand, letting her arm go limp, watching it clatter to the ground, unbeknownst to the British asshole. Henley could feel herself losing consciousness, as her vision began to blur. She barely registered the car door open, as she was strewn across the back seat. The other men had regained consciousness at this point, and she hazily watched them walk past the car she was in and into another one. She heard multiple doors slam as the engines revved up. Tears continued to silently stream down her face, as she slowly watched the bunker disappear from view.
"I'm sorry daddy; please forgive me. I'm sorry daddy. I'm sorry. . ."