WARNING: SPOILERS FOR SEASON 9 FINALE!


The Impala pulled into the gateway to a mansion hours later. Natalie could make out the perfectly manicured lawn through the elegantly designed gate rungs, her mouth hanging open in awe. It was a beautiful property.

"How long do we have to stay here?" She braced one hand against the dashboard when the gate creaked open and the Impala jolted forward in response.

Sam didn't reply immediately. He was formulating sugar-coated words in his minds, wishing his niece wasn't like her father and that she would buy into his words. Parting his lips to reply with organized thoughts, Sam steered up to the house, saying, "I don't know, Nat. But you'll be safe here."

"Wait," her eyes narrowed on his profile, "you're leaving me?"

"Natalie. You are not safe with me. Crowley will keep you safe. Trust me."

"I did trust you!" Natalie fumed. "I did trust you, and you're abandoning me with a guy I've never heard of before. I can't believe you! You're supposed to keep me safe, Uncle Sam!" Her jaw loosened and her voice went soft, cracking toward the end. "We're family."

Sam, keeping his foot down on the break, had the Impala still at the front of the house were two men dressed in suits stood. He looked at his niece, trying to convince himself that there was any other way to keep her tucked away, but she was a good actor and he could see past her fake tears. "Get out, Nat. I'll see you when I see you."

Slowly doing as he said, Natalie was soon huddled by the driver's side, leaning down to look at her Uncle through the open window. Her fingers clung to smooth finish of the car, armed only with the clothes on her back and the betrayal in her heart when Sam forced a smile in her direction.

"Bye, Natalie."

She stood her ground, chin raised, and watched until the red tail lights of the Impala disappeared through the dense sludge of trees. Somehow, watching him leave wasn't as painful as going into the house just knowing when she came out again, he wouldn't be there anymore.

"Ma'am," one of the suited monkey's called her attention to the main door, extending his arm to allow her in first. "Crowley is expecting you."

Shifting her eyes from one goon to the next, Natalie walked up the stairs. Her feet felt like rubber the entire way. She wouldn't allow herself to enjoy the scenery while walking through the mansion. Original Rembrandt's and Courbet's hung on the polished wooden panels down the hall but Natalie wasn't tempted at the moment to break.

Die Folgen dieses von mir selbst gewünschten und im Interesse des deutschen Volkes abgeschlossenen Vertrages waren besonders für die in den betroffenen Ländern lebenden Deutschen sehr schwere.

Her eyebrows furrowed at the sound of Hitler's voice pound through the thick walls, and followed a goon toward the source. She was left to the entrance of a large room. There was a sleek television taking up the entirety of one wall, with Hitler's black and white face shining in and out of the screen, a myriad of Art Deco furniture, and a man standing to one side with the mouth of an alcohol decanter poised over two glasses.

He tilted his head in welcome. "Hello. Where's Moose?"

"He opted out."

Crowley poured out generous portions into each glass before plugging the decanter, looking a bit preoccupied until Natalie decided to speak.

"What is that?" She motioned with a nod of her head.

"It's scotch," Crowley took his own glass and pushed the other towards her and, for a split second - long enough for her to see - he flashed his eyes into black orbs.

Natalie nearly choked on her own spit but maintained the space between herself and Crowley after that. Her guard was up and her escape route all planned out within seconds. She would have been scared but anger was all too prominent an ingredient in her bloodstream.

"You're angry." Crowley sipped on his drink like he had all night to finish it off. "You're just like your father."

"I'm better than my father." Natalie's teeth clicked as she sneered back.

"Well," Crowley's eyebrows arched in amusement, "aren't you the humble one. Apples really doesn't fall far from the tree."

"Stop talking like you knew my father. You didn't know him."

Crowley digested what she said and sauntered around the couch, but Natalie paced away, keeping their eyes locked.

"I," the King of Hell began slowly like he was starting a eulogy, "knew Dean Winchester better than you. Better than Moose. Or Bobby Singer. Your father was my student. We both howled at the same moon."

"My father hated things like you."

"Things like me?" He seemed surprised at what she was insinuating. "What am I, Natalie Winchester?"

"You're a demon." Natalie spit out the word 'demon' like it was bile on her tongue. "You're the same brand of cockroach that my dad's been ganking for years!"

"And yet, here I am. And here you are." Crowley snuggled into his leather wing chair, comfortably propping his foot up on the ottoman, "Contrary to the little fantasy world in your mind, you're father became the same 'brand of cockroach' as me. Dean Winchester was the man who decided too late that he didn't want to become a monster. Daddy dearest didn't hang the stars in the sky. Your father allowed his only daughter to be a psychedelic dirty dream for Lucifer himself."

"He didn't know!"

Crowley's eyebrows arched. "Didn't he?"

Natalie didn't reply. Her eyes fell to the ground, realizing the truth in the demons words. So, she tossed and turned over her own anguish. Hell, she just rolled it forward to join band with the sadness that went with the death of everyone she'd ever loved. Picking up the second glass of scotch poured out for her, Natalie sat in one of the leather couches across from Crowley.

"So, why are you helping me? Why does my Uncle trust you so much?"

Crowley snorted. "He doesn't trust me. He just can't protect you."

"You didn't answer my first question."

"Which was?"

"Why are you helping me?" She sat up straighter under Crowley's glued concentration to her face over the brim of his glass. "Lucifer's the big bad around town. He's powerful. Why would you risk your own to keep me out of the crossfire?"

With an over-exaggerated sigh, Crowley planted both feet on the ground. "I'm not keeping you out of the crossfire, Nancy Drew. I'm holding you back just long enough so you can realize why you're going to walk straight into it yourself."

The glass stopped halfway up to her lips and Natalie stared at the King of Hell for a long moment. "Why would I walk into it?" Her voice was small. She wanted a reason to justify an action she hadn't committed yet.

Crowley raised one shoulder in response, mulling over another meager sip of his drink. "That's for you to determine, my dear."

Three weeks later, Natalie received a reason to jump headfirst into the shit-storm. No questions asked. No one said I told you so. Crowley armed the young Winchester with the Colt and sent her off with a wicked smile.

She was just like her father.


I am SO sorry that I was an ass and took so long with this chapter. I've no excuse! But, hopefully, I'll be updating every few days :)

Options for the next chapter (Requests are always welcome!):

1. A four year old Natalie takes a walk with her Uncle Sammy

2. On her first day of college, Natalie runs into an unfortunate friend of her father's