CHAPTER 2 | Paper Trails

Truth doesn’t always come roaring in. Sometimes, it settles in like dust—on old files, on old names, on questions no one’s ready to answer.

Word Count: 5.3K

TW: mild language, brief mentions of death and abuse

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Sam sits at his desk, his laptop open in front of him, papers scattered around, and his work long put aside. There's a quiet intensity to his movements as he types and clicks through various documents. He's deep into his research, doing what he does best-digging for answers. It's almost like the old days when he was preparing for a hunt, and this time, it's a personal investigation into the girl who claims to be his niece. His concentration is broken when the sound of the front door creaks open, and a small voice yells out, "Daddy!" Within seconds, a little boy around four years old barrels into the home office. Sam barely has time to turn to his young son before he is rushed with a hug. He chuckles as he pulls the small boy into his lap, looking up in time to see his wife, Eileen, appearing in the doorway.

"Hey, Dean, how was your day?" Sam asks, turning his attention back to the boy.

"Good!" Dean exclaims. "Ms. Marilyn let us use the big swings today, and she said I was so brave!"

"Woah, that's awesome, bud! I bet you were so brave."

Eileen enters the room and gives Sam a gentle kiss on the side of his face. "He was so excited when I picked him up. He wanted to tell you himself."

"Well, of course," Sam replies with a big smile. "This is a big step for him, right Dean?"

The little boy nods excitedly.

Eileen spots the scattered papers on the desk, immediately clocking that this wasn't Sam's routine paperwork. She glances back at her husband, seeing the focused look that he is currently trying to mask. "Long day at work?" she queries lightly.

Sam semi-nods, shrugging his shoulders. "You could say that."

She squints suspiciously at Sam. "You've got that look… like you're on a hunt again."

He opens his mouth to speak but then turns to Dean. "Hey, why don't you go play in the living room for a bit while I talk to Mom?"

"But I want to stay here with you!" Dean protests.

"We'll be a few minutes, bud. It's grownup talk time."

The little boy pouts a bit but listens to his father. As this was happening, Eileen looked at the papers on the desk and what was on the laptop screen. She had picked up on Sam's tone, and after Dean left the room, she immediately becomes serious and tense, unsure of what he is about to say. She speaks quieter now, signing quickly at the same time, "Sam, what's going on? Who's this Nellie Branscomb?"

Sam sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. "A girl came by the house this afternoon. She said that she was looking for Dean."

Eileen immediately knows which Dean he is referring to. "Why would she come here?"

"She found my name on some paperwork," he replies, "and since it was the only address, she came here to ask if I knew where he was."

"Why? What did she want with him?"

Confliction pauses his words, but Sam pushes through. "She said that she was Dean's daughter."

If looks could turn to stone, Eileen's stare would have done so. Her mouth is agape, and worry immediately creeps over her face. "What? What do you mean Dean's daughter? Our Dean?"

Sam holds up the folder Nellie gave him earlier. "She found out through a DNA test. Claims that she's been looking for him since."

Eileen swipes the folder, reading its contents. She glances back at Sam, the tension somehow getting stronger. "How do you know she is telling the truth? I mean, this random girl just comes out of the blue with this bold claim and what… we believe her? Sam, don't you think that is a bit strange? Was she…" Eileen's words taper, her fingers signing the word 'supernatural.'

He shakes his head. "I did all the tests, and she passed them. I've looked over those documents so many times now. It is legit. I would have noticed if something was fake. And yeah, it sure as hell strange. I mean, do you not know how many random people have looked for Dean? He had his share of enemies, hunting buddies, and supernatural threats, but this was different."

"You don't think she's lying, do you?"

"I'm not sure. I've been going through her information, whatever I can find, trying to piece things together. But, Eileen, she was too… raw. And it was uncanny. She looks like him. From the eyes to the hair."

Eileen scans Sam's face, seeing the tension and vulnerability. He's always been the cautious one, but she knows how much he has been through with family. "She sounds like the perfect actor if she was trying to hit a nerve. Sam, I trust your judgment, but I am worried. We got out. We have normal lives. We have a kid and are paying a mortgage, for Pete's sake."

"I know, I know." Sam runs a hand through his hair. "But even though I've been out of the game for a bit, I still know how to play. There was something different about her. It was like when we found out about Adam all over again."

Eileen reaches out and touches his arm with silent reassurance. "I know how much family means to you, especially Dean." She sighs, rubbing her temples while looking for words to continue. "But you must admit, this is bizarre. Sure, we both know what Dean was like. Honestly, I'm not surprised about him having a kid he didn't know about. But still… it's a lot to take in if this is true."

Sam nods. "Trust me, I've been thinking the same. Not surprised, but still somehow surprised. Crazy always had a way of finding Dean. It was like the universe had a grudge." He turns back to his computer screen, where several tabs are cued. "I've been looking through whatever records I could find on her. There's nothing to suggest that anything is off. Honestly, there isn't much of anything. Everything she told me matches up with what little I've found so far. However, something just doesn't sit right."

Eileen looks back at the folder of test paperwork, tapping the table while she gathers her thoughts. "Sam… What if this pulls you right back in? I mean, we don't know what this could do. If this Nellie is who she claims to be, this could change many things. We got out."

"I don't know yet," he admits. "I'm not going full hunter. I can promise you that. But if she is truly my niece, I can't abandon her. Dean would want me to take care of her."

"Do you think… you think that he knew?"

Sam pauses. It is a question he had been asking himself. But no matter what way he twisted it, he always came to the same conclusion. "No," he replies, "I don't think so. He would've owned up to it. If he knew, he would do his damnedest not to be like Dad. Especially considering what little she told me of her home life, Dean would have pulled her out of there."

Eileen purses her lips, nodding slowly at his words. "Again, I trust your judgment on this. You make the calls on this. I will follow."

Sam gives her a small smile, taking her hands into his. "It isn't going to hurt to check. I've reached out to some old hunting contacts. I didn't give them a reason; I just told them I needed some info. Hopefully, soon, we will get some news."

"What do you know of her so far?"

He turns back to the computer screen and his compiled notes. "Nellie is from Lockhart, Texas, not far from Austin. She's twenty-one, lives with her mother, and works at a local diner. No unusual criminal records and no notable family history. It just looks like she's lived a quiet life."

"It's not uncommon for people in small towns to slip through the cracks," Eileen adds, even though they both feel the strange sense of emptiness in her past.

"But get this." Sam hands Eileen back the DNA paperwork. "Take a look at her full name. I didn't notice it until I started digging. Nellie's first name is Eleanor, the same as her mother's. Nothing notable. But her middle name…"

"… is Deanne," Eileen breathes. "Well… that is certainly more than coincident."

"I've found more stuff on her mother more than her. Let's just say she seems a bit of a mess. Frequent house calls for disturbing the peace and DUIs. Married a couple of times, but nothing that would flag her as a danger. More like a narcissist than anything else, naming her daughter after herself and the man that wasn't there." Sam pauses, reflecting on the afternoon. "Nellie mentioned her mother was abusive. It sounds like she's been through a lot. Which makes sense if she just wanted to live under the radar in every aspect of her life outside of the home."

"Isn't she an adult?" Eileen inquires. "Why doesn't she just leave? Why hasn't she left yet?"

Sam rubs his face and sighs. "I thought the same things. But honestly, I didn't really do that. Back when it was just me, Dean, and Dad. Even after I tried to go to college. I still came back. I get it. When you don't have anyone else, you feel bad for leaving someone, even if they don't love you like a parent should. And it didn't sound like there was really anywhere else for her to go. She did mention an ex-stepdad, who was the only one who seemed to care that she was more than a waste of space. Apparently, he was the one who encouraged her to search for her real father."

"At least someone spoke up for her, let her know that she could do something for herself. Just a girl trying to figure out who her father was." Eileen looks at her husband with fond understanding. "You're doing the right thing, Sam. You'll figure it out, one way or another."

Sam returns her gaze, finally letting the weight on his shoulders ease just a little. He nods, but there is still hesitation in his voice. "I just… I want to make sure. I don't want her to feel like another person gave up on her."

She squeezes his hand, offering a small but reassuring smile. "And this is why I fell in love with you. You are always looking out for those who normally get pushed to the side. Now, I should go start dinner and make sure Dean didn't decide that the living room needed new art on the wall."

Despite the hint of sadness in his eyes, Sam gives his wife a small, appreciative smile. He knows that this new chapter in his life may affect not just him but also his family. He takes a deep breath and turns back to the computer, his mind already shifting back to his research. It is going to be a long road ahead, but with Eileen by his side, he feels ready to face it.

• • •

The car engine dies, and the headlights thrust the cabin into darkness. Nellie's hands rest on the steering wheel; keys clutched into her palm. A weary sigh leaves her lips, her eyes shut as her head thuds on the headrest. The visor flicks down, the yellow life faintly revealing her reflection in the spotty mirror. It is an image Nellie has seen frequently in the bathroom mirror: red-rimmed eyes, dried tear tracks, and a heaviness that should have been cried away but still lingered like a shadow. She had cried more than she cared to admit. She had to pull over after leaving Sam's house, curling up in the driver's seat as the tears made it impossible to continue. It was a good fifteen minutes before she pulled herself together and began the long drive back home to Texas. Of course, it wasn't the last time she cried in those long eleven hours.

As she continues to look at her pitiful reflection, Nellie asks herself the question she had mulled over on the drive: Why did I get my hopes up? This trip was the first thing Nellie ever really did for herself. She never told Eleanor that she had undergone two tests to obtain the results. One was more locally based, and the other was a more expensive one that searched databases nationally. She remembers the extra shifts at the diner and odd jobs she took just to save up for it; she still has the calluses and a slight burn scar on her forearm to prove it. All this hard work and secrecy to find a man her mother loathed. Nellie remembers all the times she asked about her father, where he was, and why he wasn't there. Of course, the answer always included yelling and being locked in the hall closet. The smell of mothballs will forever be burned into Nellie's lungs. It is the reason why she took her closet door off the hinges when she was twelve.

Nellie takes a deep breath. She peers out the passage side window, trying to spot a light on in the living room. It was too late at night for her mother to be up, at least sober. But it didn't mean that she was in the clear either. Nellie returns her gaze to the visor mirror, rubbing her face with her fingers to remove some of the remnants of her emotions. She had been planning on her story since before she left. She worked a late shift, and instead of coming home, she immediately drove to Kansas. She had told Eleanor that she was working multiple shifts at the diner and would just sleep in her car in the parking lot and wake up for the morning shift. Nellie had done this before when they were tight on money, so it wasn't entirely out of the norm. After "working all day," she would just tell her that she had taken a late-night drive, which would explain why she didn't come home until close to three am.

After calming her beating heart, Nellie finally gets out of the car. In the best-case scenario, her mother is asleep or passed out, and she can sneak up to her room without any problem. Worst case scenario? Well, anything involving Eleanor being awake is bad enough. Lately, her moods are unpredictable, which happens from time to time. Nellie had put a picture up on the wall in the living room the other day just to hide the mark of a bottle thrown at it. All because she came home from a shift ten minutes later than usual.

The gravel driveway beneath her feet crunches, echoing loudly in her own ears, as she approaches the side door and unlocks it with practiced silence. The kitchen lights are off, but a bottle of cheap wine sits uncorked on the island. It is hauntingly illuminated by the dim moonlight, the dregs sitting menacingly at the bottom of the glass bottle and gaudy pink lipstick rims the top. Even though she is standing still, the wooden floor seems unnatural, noisy and creaky. Nellie takes a deep breath, steadying herself as she continues quietly to the living room. The air is thick in that room; even from her silent spot in the kitchen doorway, she could feel it. Nellie glances at the couch, seeing its threadbare fabric empty. No lights are on, and the way to the stairwell is clear. She wishes she could just run up the stairs and into her bedroom. It seems miles away. 

"Where the hell have you been?" a slightly slurred but raised voice asks from the shadows of the living room.

Nellie's heart nearly falls out of her ribcage. She had prepared for this, but some part of her still hoped for the clean getaway. Her mother's anger, sharp and slurred, had become the one constant in a world that never offered stability. She doesn't want to make it worse, so she simply shrugs and walks past her mother, heading toward the stairwell. Nellie, trying to keep her voice steady, replies, "I was at the diner all day. Remember? I worked the late-night shift and slept in the car for the early shift. Then I felt like going on a drive afterward, so that's why I'm back so late."

Eleanor snorts, "A drive? Really? For hours? You're not even gonna tell me where you've been?"

Nellie grips the stair railing. "I wasn't anywhere. I was driving. Because I wanted to. Now, I've got another early shift, so I'm going to go to bed."

"You better have put some gas in the car in the damn tank before you decided to bring your ass home," Eleanor mutters, grabbing a nearly empty glass from the side table.

Nellie closes her eyes for a brief moment, taking in the stench of alcohol in the air. It's not worth it. She's learned that by now. With a slight shake of her head, she walks up the stairs and into her bedroom, slamming the door behind her. The sound echoes in the silence of the house, and for a second, she feels a small sense of relief. The chaos of her mother's voice fades away, leaving her alone in the stillness of her room. She leans against the door, letting out a long breath. Her mind races back to everything Sam told her: the photo of Dean, the words he said, the pieces of her past that suddenly make more sense. She can't quite wrap her head around it yet—the idea of him, of Dean, being her father. It feels surreal, like something from a dream that she can't quite shake off.

Nellie walks to her bed and sits down, her hands trembling slightly as she takes out a copy of the DNA test papers from her bag. She looks at them again, seeing her name, her mother's name, and the connection to the Winchesters. She wasn't sure what she had expected, but it wasn't this. She thought she was just another kid with a broken family. But now, Sam had shown her something bigger—something that made her question everything she knew about herself. She places the papers on the bed beside her and stares at them, the words on the page blurring together as tears begin to well up in her eyes. She wipes them away quickly, not wanting to give in to the feeling, but it's too much. Her breath catches in her throat as the tears come anyway. The thought of a father she never knew, someone who could've loved her, someone who might have wanted to be there, is almost too much to bear.

Nellie stands up and walks over to her small window, staring out into the quiet night. The sound of crickets fills the air outside, but inside, her heart is pounding in her chest. She presses her hand against the glass, feeling the coolness against her skin. She wonders what it would've been like to have someone—someone like Dean—who cared, who wanted to be there for her. She wonders if he would've loved her. The tears flow freely now, and she doesn't fight them. She lets herself break down, letting the emotions of everything she's learned hit her all at once. She's grieving for a man she never met, but the ache in her chest feels real enough. The loneliness she's felt all her life suddenly seems more overwhelming, more painful. She doesn't know how to

deal with it, how to make sense of the hole she feels inside her heart.

For a moment, she lets herself feel the loss—the loss of the father she never had, the loss of the family she could've had. But then, just as quickly, the walls go back up. She wipes away her tears, swallows hard, and forces herself to breathe slowly. She can't fall apart now. Not when she doesn't even know the whole truth yet. But deep down, she knows that finding the truth means uncovering something bigger than she ever expected.

Nellie takes a final, shaky breath and heads back to her bed. She picks up the DNA test papers again, staring at them for a long moment before sliding them into her bag, out of sight. She spots a piece of paper protruding from one of the inner pockets. It is Sam's phone number. She grips the edges of the paper, staring at the line of numbers. For a moment, Nellie wonders if she should just throw it away. She feels like she encroached on his family and home, which she didn't deserve, given how lovely they are to bother with her. But the longer she stares at it, the more she wants to hold onto it. She grabs her phone and creates a new contact, only listing it under the name Sam. She didn't want to risk Eleanor going through her phone. Tearing the page into small pieces, she throws them into the bag.

Feeling the weight of the day's travels and its emotional outcome hit her like a truck, she climbs into her small bed, pulling the covers over her body and curling up into a ball. She tries to find some comfort in the dark silence of her room. But even as she drifts off to sleep, the emptiness in her chest lingers, and the question of who her father was continues to haunt her dreams.

• • •

The porch light offers some warmth to the home office as Sam sits at his desk, surrounded by papers and his laptop. The soft glow of a desk lamp cast additional shadows across the room, illuminating his focused face. His phone sits beside him, displaying a string of messages from various numbers. It has been several days since Nellie showed up at the Winchesters' front door. His own research could only go so far since he promised Eileen that he wouldn't go "full hunter mode," as she called it. So, he reached out to a few of his old hunting contacts, keeping his requests vague. He just needs to confirm she is who she says she is.

Sam mutters to himself as he reads through a message. He taps on an attachment in the message. The document opens, showing a scan of an official birth certificate from the state of Texas. The certificate discloses that Eleanor Deanne Branscomb was indeed born to Eleanor Branscomb on October 14, 2005. The paternal information is blank, leaving Sam a bit frustrated. He closes out the file, angrily staring at the file's icon in the text chain. He turns to several other listed documents and selects one of them. It is a digital transcript from Lockhart High School declaring that Eleanor D. Branscomb was a high school graduate with honors. There were also some additional scans of academic achievements and certificates from various grades.

"She's clean, so far," Sam tells himself as if saying it out loud made it more real.

A dinging notification breaks his concentration. Clicking on the banner, Sam reads the new message from yet another one of his hunting connections. He skims the text, drawing more to the images linked below it. He blows up the grainy screenshots, noting the dates in the corners that indicate the source was a local CCTV or security camera. Even though they weren't high quality, he can still make out the young woman in the images. The first screenshot shows Nellie walking away from her car, hair up in a ponytail and wearing a crappy 50s-style diner uniform shirt and jeans. There are a few more of her outside the diner, starting or leaving her shift. The last image is actually a phone photo, showing a blurry Nellie taking an order from a customer.

He pulls up one of the clearer screengrabs and sits back, staring at the young woman on his screen. Even through the grainy quality and low color, Sam still sees that resemblance to Dean in Nellie. The dark circles under her eyes remind him of all the late nights they pulled driving across the country or staking out in whatever crappy motel room was available. A split lip hides under some loosely applied lipstick, and there is a tension in her jaw that Sam knew all too well from his older brother. Now, if only he could find proof of Dean's potential involvement.

After a minute, he finally straightens up and moves on to more documents. There are several arrest records for her mother, Eleanor, stemming from drunken incidents. His brow furrows as he clicks through the pages, his expression serious as he reads. Her mother had a history of problems, but Nellie is clean, with no signs of anything unusual yet. He shakes his head, not seeing anything alarming at first. As he continues, he stumbles across more paperwork—an incident report from a local police department that mentions an arrest involving her mother in the small town near Nellie's home. It's just another note about her mother's past struggles.

Rubbing his face, Sam looks away from the laptop, staring into nothingness. So far, Nellie is everything she said she was, but nothing stands out to him that could indicate any connection to Dean. He had come to terms with the potential outcome of Dean's playboy tendencies, and if he was being honest with himself, he was surprised that this hadn't happened earlier. Dean proved that he could take responsibility for his mistakes, but in a case like this, what would he have done?

Sam taps on a file attached to one of the messages, and the screen flickers as the document opens. It's a scan of an old report from a hunting case dating back to January of 2005, from an area near where Nellie grew up. His eyes narrow as he reads the document, which describes a hunt Dean was involved in during the same year Nellie was born. The report details a routine hunt that Dean and another hunter were called in to deal with—nothing extraordinary, just a standard supernatural case.

Sam mutters, thinking out loud, "January, 2005. Nellie's birth? October. Nine months. Exactly." He continues reading the report, his mind racing. He connects the dots—Nellie could have been conceived around that time. His heart races, the mystery deepening. Just as Sam continues scanning, his phone buzzes again. A new message from another contact appears, accompanied by additional information. He opens it and finds an old photograph of Dean from the same period, including one where he's standing with a fellow hunter in front of an old, decrepit house in Texas.

Sam smiles faintly, despite the gravity of the situation, "Classic Dean."

He stares at the photograph for a moment, then checks the date on the message—2005, the same year the hunt took place. Sam sighs, running a hand through his hair, both amazed and slightly unsettled by the confirmation that Dean had been in the right place at the right time. He shifts through a couple of other documents sent from different contacts, none of which point to any supernatural connections, but all of which reinforce Nellie's story.

Sam, his voice a little hoarse as the weight of the information sets in, mutters, "I... I can't believe this." His eyes return to the screengrabs of Nellie, and for the first time, he acknowledges her as his niece. He takes a moment to process everything, his hands resting on each side of the laptop. The light sound of footsteps in the hallway catches his attention. He turns to see Eileen entering the office, her expression thoughtful as she observes Sam working.

"You've been at this for a while now," she says quietly, signing gently. "Found anything?"

Sam looks up at her, his eyes tired but resolute. He takes a deep breath and leans back in his chair, glancing over the documents scattered across the table and the open laptop. "I reached out to some of the old contacts... asking about Nellie," he replies. "I didn't tell them who she is. I just asked for general info about her or any hunts that happened around there."

Eileen approaches Sam's side, glancing at the computer screen. "And?"

 "Turns out, Dean was in that area in 2005. A shade hunt in a nearby town she's from... about nine months before she was born."

Her expression shifts from concern to a quiet understanding. She observes Sam, her eyes soft as she processes the significance of the discovery. In a gentle but serious tone, she queries, "So, you think Dean truly was her father?"

He nods slowly, still processing everything. "I think it's more than likely. The timeline adds up. She was born nine months after he was there. And her story—it just lines up. But it's... it's hard to accept, you know?"

Eileen's hand gently rests on his shoulder as she leans in closer. She speaks softly, offering the support she knows he needs at this moment. "This is a lot, Sam. You didn't expect this."

 "Yeah," he sighs, "but I can't help but feel like it's some sort of cosmic joke. Dean never knew he had a daughter. He never knew any of this."

She watches Sam for a moment, her gaze warm but thoughtful. "What do you think you're going to do?"

He looks back at the screen, at the photograph of Dean and the security camera images of Nellie, his mind whirling with possibilities. He thinks about what Dean would have said and how Dean would have reacted if he were here to see this. Sam swallows hard, trying to suppress the flood of emotions stirring within him. With a deep breath, he quietly responds, "I need to talk to her. I need to figure out what all this means —both for her and for me. I gave her my number, but I didn't think to get hers. Shouldn't be hard to find."

Eileen nods her expression understanding but with a hint of worry. She squeezes her husband's shoulder. "Take it one step at a time. You don't have to do this alone."

Sam looks at Eileen, her words grounding him. He nods, his expression softening a little as he realizes he's not alone in this. Not now. Not ever. "Yeah. You're right." He leans back in his chair, finally allowing himself a moment to relax.

Eileen finally turns to the laptop, flipping the screen to face her more. She scans the images of Nellie he still had up, seeing her newfound niece for the first time. "I see it. She does look like him." After a minute of silence, she speaks again, "But… do you think that she wants anything to do with us? I mean, Nellie is an adult. While she did come looking for him, that doesn't exactly mean she would want to have a relationship with us."

"I don't know," Sam admits. "She seemed so broken up hearing that Dean was dead, and she looked disappointed when she finally had to leave. Considering her family life, we could give her a chance to understand what a true family is. And if Dean was here, he would do anything to be in her life."

"Then, think about it," she advises softly. "Just for a day or two. Whatever you decide, I will support you." She kisses his temple and pads out of the home office, giving him a loving smile from the doorway.

As she disappears down the hallway, Sam stares at the open door for a moment before turning his gaze back to the computer, his eyes resting on his older brother's. That classic Dean smirk hits him hard. The weight of the situation still presses on him, but he feels a small flicker of hope for the future. Maybe this family, this strange, new chapter, could help him heal... help them all heal.