Nephilim

3

December 31, 1982

It was New Year's Eve, of course it was. That would explain why John's favorite bar was so busy and rowdy, opposite of the normally quiet place he would come to have a few beers after a fight with Mary. He'd go home after the few beers, often times apologizing, but more often than not sleeping on the couch and waking up an hour earlier than normal so his son won't notice that his parents are having problems.

His parents that are having more problems than they currently know how to deal with. Which, of course, is how John ended up here in the first place. This argument was the worse they'd had in a long time. He knew that later on, they would probably blame it on Mary's pregnancy hormones. Tonight was different than most nights he came here; instead of the few usual beers, he decided to go for a few beers and some whiskey. A lot of whiskey.

It was New Year's Eve and Haley Blackthorn had just finished an awful hunt. A local vampire clan kidnapping children and draining them of their blood. Children barely older than her two boys at home. Drinking was a way to wipe the image of child corpses out of her Shadowhunter mind. And, of course, it was New Year's Eve.

They met about halfway through her time at the loud bar, both equally hammered. He thought she was pretty and looked like someone interesting to talk to. She thought he was hot and figured she could use the company. They didn't mean to end up in her hotel bed. They just wanted somewhere where they could hear themselves think, and have alcohol on hand. That was the first place they thought of. The bed was the last place they'd thought they'd end up. She was married. They each had kids at home. He had a wife. Who was four months pregnant.

They didn't mean for it to happen, but it did. In the morning, after she'd driven him home, they agreed to never see each other again. Of course, that was until she found out she was pregnant. Then everything went to hell.

Of course, she didn't know he'd had a wife, so she sent him a picture of the child in the mail, with her name and number at the bottom. Writing down that address nine months beforehand was probably the smartest thing she'd ever thought of. At least she thought it was until his wife called her instead of him. Mary Winchester was furious. John Winchester was screwed. Dean and Sam Winchester, and Andrew, Arthur, and Amelia Blackthorn were all oblivious.

November 25, 1984

The one-year-old Amelia Blackthorn was playing in the Institute Library, 'helping' her father put away books as her brothers playing nearby. Well, father for all intents and purposes. The couple had decided it was the best thing to do after she showed up after the hunt last year, bawling in guilt about what she did. Her husband, James, being the forgiving man he is, barely took two months to forgive what had happened, but not forget. It definitely slapped back on him when she found out she was pregnant. Though now, he had taken Amelia in like his own, let her keep his last name, treated her how a father should.

Of course, when she got older they were going to tell her and her brothers, Andrew and Arthur, the truth. Her father kept tabs on her, with Haley and James' permission and help, of course. John was a lot harder to reach after his wife died, but everytime something changed, they'd be notified. Anytime she sent him pictures, she'd send it to a P.O. box he'd set up a while ago. He'd check it once a month, always kept the keepsakes and pictures that were sent.

John, of course, hadn't told his boys until Sam and Amelia were thirteen, Dean seventeen. He didn't want them to hate him for what he did to their mother but soon realized they already hated him, at least Sam did. And, as it turns out, Dean had already known, answering John's phone one time when Haley called. About a year later, Amelia had ended up joining them for a while, having run away.

It went like that; she would go back and forth whenever she felt it was fit, never doing what her parents decided for her until Amelia had fallen in love with Michael, then she tended to stay close to John, Sam, and Dean. She kept in contact, of course. Until March 2001. She completely cutting off her Shadowhunter family, and hunter family alike.

April 3, 2001

Amelia Blackthorn giggles as she rolls over on the bed, staring up at the ceiling of the random motel room they had checked into. Her family, or technically her father and his family, were staying here a few rooms down. Being far enough away from them, she decided to pray to her favorite Archangel. That, of course, lead to them ending up in bed together. After all, she was only seventeen, a Winchester, had a hotel room completely alone, and no supervision around for at least an hour. Though, tonight, both parties had news for each other. They just didn't know it was the same news.

"So, Michael, you said you had something to tell me?" The afterglow instantly came crashing down as the reality of what they needed to tell each other hit them.

"You said the same thing too if I recall correctly?" The vessel's blue eyes met the young woman's own blue-green eyes. She shrugged noncommittally as he sat up on the bed, pulling the covers up to his hips after her gaze caught on his junk. She flicked her eyes up to his before sitting up also, not bothering to pull the sheet up over herself.

"Yeah. We could... I don't know? Say it at the same time?"

"I am okay with that if you are." Neither of them met each other's eyes as they counted down from three.

"3... 2... 1... I'm pregnant." "3... 2... 1... You're pregnant." They say at the same time, followed by two, "You knew?"