Dean has known and understood the signs of demonic possession since he was five years old. John had pounded the idea into his head every day and night for fifteen years, so the oldest Winchester is normally confident that when a person starts acting strange or out of character, they must be possessed by something. Demon or no demon.

So Dean can't figure out why Sam or Bobby didn't holy water his ass and throw him in a devil's trap as soon as he tried to leave the salvage yard earlier this morning.

Because there's no way in hell Dean would readily agree to take his seventeen-year-old daughter shopping without something controlling his brain.

The oldest Winchester is slouched down on an uncomfortable white chair inside of some preppy chick store called Forever XXI, scowling at any customer or sales attendant that happens to walk by. In his black t-shirt and well-worn jeans, Dean feels out of place shoved inside the bright white walls and pastel colored clothing. Not even his mental promise of greasy food court pizza can lift the dark cloud that is shopping from above his head.

But Dean knows that he can't complain too much, because this is only the first store Rayan has brought him into. And then there's the fact that his daughter hadn't even asked the oldest Winchester to tag along, knowing that he wouldn't hate the whole shopping excursion.

But Dean must have been having a mental breakdown when she asks to borrow some money in order to buy a few new outfits for the summer months, because instead of just handing over some green bills and telling Rayan to be careful, he decides that taking his daughter to the mall would be a nice way to spend some quality time together. Because really, a few hours of shopping couldn't be too bad.

Dean's never been more wrong in his life.

"Come on, Ray," Dean whines from just outside the dressing rooms. "Are you done yet?"

"Dad, stop asking!" his daughter's voice snaps back from behind one of the several closed doors. "I just got in here five minutes ago. I need time."

Dean scoffs and rolls his eyes, considers snapping back a response but decides that it's not in his best interest, and continues to pout on the white couch like an overgrown toddler. But along with the pouting comes the uncomfortable shifting in his seat, because he's starting to receive funny looks and stares from the many young girls and women inside the store. Apparently it's weird for a nearly middle aged man to be sitting inside the store alone.

Dean's about to call out to his daughter again because he really can't take the stares anymore (despite the fact that some of the women are pretty nice to look at), but he is saved the trouble when one of the dressing room doors swing open and Rayan emerges.

Not that a whole new set of protests don't rise to his tongue as soon as he catches sight of the close his daughter is wearing.

The teen has on a set of black skinny jeans that Dean would normally grudgingly accept, except for the fact that they have several man-made rips up and down the legs. And Dean's not going to buy a pair of pants that already have holes in them. And then there's the shirt. It's a white and silver tank top that swoops down in the front, not necessarily in a tacky way, but definitely in the "holy shit, she's a girl" way.

"When did you get those?" Dean chokes as he gestures wildly at Rayan.

Rayan looks down at the clothes she's wearing and then back up at Dean. "You just watched me pick them off the shelf."

"Not the clothes," Dean scoffs. "Those."

It takes Rayan a moment, but as soon as she realizes what Dean is talking about a look of embarrassment and horror crosses her face. "Dad!" she hisses quietly, looking around her to make sure people aren't watching. "This should not be an issue anymore. I'm seventeen years old. Of course I've…grown."

But it is an issue for Dean, because he hasn't noticed that his little girl is obviously well on her way to becoming a woman. Obviously, it's not like he was looking (because that would just be pervy), but Rayan's also never outwardly wore an article of clothing that wasn't a baggy t-shirt either.

"Pick out a different shirt," Dean demands with a wave of his hand. "Something that's got more…well, just more. I don't need any teenage boys coming around the house."

"Dad, it's a shirt," Rayan protests as she tugs on the fabric a little. "Normal seventeen-year-olds wear shirts like this. I want to wear shirts like this."

"And I want to meet Pamela Anderson, but that's not going to happen. Now go change."

Rayan glares at her father for a moment, narrowing her eyes and pulling her lips into a thin line. Then with a growl, she turns on her heel and marches back into the dressing room, muttering under her breath the whole way.

Dean watches her go and drops his head into his hands as soon as the dressing room door shuts. The oldest Winchester is well aware of the fact that he didn't handle that as well as he could have. And he also knows that he could have handled the whole realization of his daughter having boobs much better, also. But the moments over, and whether he was wrong or not, Dean isn't ready to admit that Rayan is going from his sweet little girl into a beautiful young woman.

"Does your wife normally take her shopping?"

Dean is so absorbed in his thoughts that he misses the approaching click of heels against the tile floor, and jumps a little when the woman speaks to him. He quickly looks up and takes in the sight of an attractive woman with short blonde hair and brown eyes, not much younger than himself.

"I'm not married," is the first thing Dean blurts out before rolling his eyes in exasperation towards himself. He can't believe how uncool he's become over the years. "I mean, normally her aunt would bring her. You know, to offer advice and everything."

"I figured you weren't the regular after your mild panic attack," the woman jokes with a bright smile. When Dean gives her a strange look, she sobers up and begins to look sheepish. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to intrude. I was over by the shoes and overheard your little discussion. My name's Heather."

Dean grasps the woman's outstretched hand and introduces himself. "Dean Winchester. Are you always this nosy?"

Heather lets off a soft laugh and takes a seat next to Dean on the white couch. "Only while shopping," she says with a grin. "And I thought you could use a little help in the shopping department."

"Do I really look that desperate?" Dean asks with a half-laugh, leaning back against the white leather.

"Only when you're daughter comes out of the dressing room."

"Peachy," Dean sighs as he rubs a hand across his face. "But you saw the shirt, right? I mean, that was just a little too much."

Heather laughs, and shakes her head slightly. "Actually, that was one of the more modest pieces in this place. I thought she looked nice."

"Well, yeah, she did look nice," Dean grudgingly admits. "But it was just a little too much for a seventeen-year-old, don't you think?"

Heather laughs and leans back against the couch next to Dean. "You sound just like my husband the first time our daughter came home wearing an outfit similar to the one your daughter is wearing. He claimed that she was too young, even though she was eighteen and getting ready to go to college. Although he was a little worse when it came to the developmental issue and fully asked her when she got boobs in the middle of a Wal-Mart parking lot."

Dean lets out a little laugh, picturing Rayan's mortification if he were to actually say the word boobs. The longer he sits with Heather, the more he realizes that he probably overreacted to the outfit Ray had tried on, and that it really wasn't all that bad.

"This, I'm not trying to tell you how to parent," Heather says with a friendly pat to Dean's arm. "I just think that you should reconsider your initially rejection to the shirt. At least she's asking for your opinion."

Before Dean can say anything else, Heather is up off the couch and making her way back through the store, waving over her shoulder. He feels bad for the woman's husband, because all of the energy and pep that was stored inside Heather seems like way too much for one man to handle alone.

But he does agree that she had a point, and he decides that as soon as Rayan exits the dressing room, he'll tell her the shirt looks nice and she should get it.

Rayan is inside the dressing room, shedding off the clothes she tried on and still mumbling under her breath about naïve fathers who are overbearing and ridiculous when her phone rings. Reaching down onto the small bench inside the room, she grabs the device and notes that it's Andy calling her before she flips the phone open.

"You've noticed my boobs before, right?" she asks her best friend without even saying hello.

"Uh, is this a trick question?" Andy asks, apprehension coloring his tone.

Rayan sighs and plops down onto the bench. "Very funny, Andy."

"Well you can't blame me! You're asking the gay kid if he's noticed your breasts. We don't tend to look for that kind of thing."

"Whatever," Rayan growls out, bending over to lace her boots back up.

Andy chuckles on the other end of the line softly, and Rayan can just picture the smirk on the other teen's face. "I take it the shopping trip isn't going as well as it could."

"Dad just discovered I have boobs. That's how well it's going."

A loud bark of laughter echoes through the phone as Andy reacts to his best friend's statement. Rayan just scowls into the device, as if she can send her glare through the phone's signal. She should have known that Andy would be nowhere near sympathetic.

"Yeah, laugh it up asshole," Rayan growls at her friend.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Andy apologizes as he calms himself down. "Anyway, I've got some news that I think will make you feel better."

"Do you now?"

"I sure do," Andy says in a smug tone. Not that it actually sounds smug, because Andy is too much of a sweetheart to actually sound smug. "Alabama just convinced Cas to give us the last item we need for the summoning spell."

Rayan jumps up and begins to pace in the dressing room, not that there's a whole lot of space for that in the first place. "Cas gave us an angel feather? Really? This is great! Now we can finally summon Death and figure out what in the hell I've got going on with me. I'm coming home right now."

"Woah, Ray. Slow down," Andy interrupts, panic in his voice. "We might have all the stuff, but we're nowhere near ready yet. We still need to find a time when no one is home, and we have to make sure we can perform the spell flawlessly. One screw up and we could be in serious trouble."

Rayan groans and flops back down on the bench. "So what are we talking, a week? A month?"

"Who knows? But Cas is confident that it shouldn't bee too much longer. Just a lot of planning for right now, though."

"Great, more waiting," Rayan complains.

"Just look at it this way, Ray," Andy consoles through the phone. "We're so fucking close."

Hello everyone! I just wanted to let you know that this is the last chapter of this small fic, and the first chapter of the newest full-length fic will be up soon enough. There will be more explored concerning Jack Devlin, Rayan's abilities, and...Death is coming. =P

Thanks again for all of the reviews! Some of them seriously crack me up, and I love it!