starry eyes and galaxy minds

Prologue

So, I said I'd get this chapter up by June or July. *Checks Date* *Shrugs* Honestly, I fully expected this.

Hello to anyone who's still around! I was so blown away by the support that I've gotten from this story! Like, it's by no means my best work, so I was so excited and happy with your approval! Thank you so much!

You are all amazing and I love you all. I'm so excited to see how many more start reading this as the story goes on!

This chapter is a re-write of the first. Bear that in mind

Hi I'm not the owners of Supernatural. I don't own it. If I did, would it be such a homophobic show? No. Would everyone die? No. Would the fandom finally have reason to live? Probably not but I'd like to think that I could help with that.

Dean sat anxiously on the couch, his eyes flickering around the room. It was a small room, but all of it was loved. The couch was pink, dulled out from age and covered in a crocheted blanket. The window had light peeking through and a gentle breeze flowed into the room. There's about a hundred framed photos in the room, and even more books on the shelf.

He tried not to look at them.

The little girl, he knew, couldn't be older than eight months old. If she was his, that is.

He had to keep convincing himself that she couldn't be his.

Fatherhood was an impossibility for him. Simply an impossibility. His life was not one that he would bring a child into.

His eyes stopped on a little bunny, white with a pink bow, which was left on the floor.

He leaned down and picked it up, holding it in both his hands and staring into its eyes as if they would hold answers.

How had this happened?

He shook his head, clearing his thoughts. He knew exactly how this had happened, and he was trying to deny the thought that he had no one to blame but himself.

There's a noise in the hallway and- Heather? Harper? She'd introduced herself again when she'd contacted him- walked into the room, and apologetic smile on her face.

"Sorry," She sighed, flopping into the seat across from him. "Just got her down to nap."

Dean tried to smile reassuringly, but fell short in what probably resembled a grimace.

"'s okay." He mumbled, fiddling with his hands anxiously.

"So," The woman continued. "I'm Rikky," He wasn't even close.

He decided that small talk was off the table.

"How do I know she's-"

"I have papers."

He closed his eyes.

"Those could be fake," He began.

"Is now really the time for denial, Dean?" She asked gently.

"She's your daughter." Rikky said. "She needs you."

A stray tear found its way down Dean's cheek, which he didn't bother to wipe away.

"What could I do for her?" He didn't know how that question sounded to her, or how he even wanted it to sound, but he was certain that his voice had cracked.

"I can't raise her." The woman before him said.

His heart sank in his chest.

He couldn't raise her either. He couldn't- wouldn't- raise her to be a hunter. He couldn't raise her without a home or any sense of consistency- he wouldn't hurt her like that.