Still fightin'. :) Special thanks to Jenmm31- beta, bestie, and badass. Also a thank you to the readers and reviewers who still support me. I'm trying, y'all, I promise. Love you all very much.

Part 2 of a three part story. Natalie is 18. Please see profile page for disclaimers.

Part 2

"Okay, I'm just gonna say it. This is awkward."

The three Winchesters were waiting in the war room while the argument between Taron and Reginald raged on below. Sam was trying to pass the time with a book, Natalie was pacing and sighing heavily, and Dean was slumped at one end of the table, biting his thumb, apparently deep in thought.

Natalie checked her phone, then spoke again. "And that's….officially one full hour they've been at it." She looked nervously down the hall towards the stairs. The angry voices were bouncing around the room, still too muffled to make out the words, but the anger was certainly obvious. "I thought you said they were in the dungeon," she said, turning to Sam.

"They are."

"Isn't it supposed to be sound proof?"

"It's supposed to be."

"Well, shit," Natalie muttered, continuing her trek around the war room. After a terse but basically polite greeting to the Winchesters, Reginald had snatched Taron by the back of the neck and hauled him out of the room. He clearly remembered his way around from the last time he was there and made his way straight down to the depths of the bunker. Dean sent Sam to follow them (after expressly forbidding Natalie to do it), and Sam reported back that the two men had shut themselves in the dungeon to discuss their issues. An hour later and their "discussion" didn't sound like it was close to concluded.

"Did you get any of what they were saying?" Natalie asked, suddenly turning towards Sam. Sam sighed patiently; he'd already answered this question for her multiple times.

"No, as I said already, I could barely make out anything before they started losing their minds at each other," he replied kindly. He cocked one eyebrow at Natalie, wondering how many different ways she was going to ask the same question. "Just let them get it out of their systems, Bug." Sam gave her a knowing look, one that said just like your dad when he's yelling at you.

Natalie chose to ignore the look, and continued pacing. Something was obviously up in the hunting world- something big. Taron wouldn't have just dropped in on a whim. And they were all wasting valuable time figuring out what was going on while the two British ding-dongs played masters of the universe downstairs. It wasn't that she was concerned for Taron and the ass kicking he was likely getting at the hands of his father. Nope. Least of her concerns. Let him fend for himself. Whatever. The tool.

To banish her conflicting thoughts, Natalie instead focused on Dean. "Dad, do you have any ideas what they could be facing? You've gotta have at least something in mind," she begged. Dean had been thinking too hard for the last hour not to at least have a theory. When he didn't move, Natalie walked over to him and nudged his shoulder. "Dad?" she asked again.

"Sh, I'm thinking."

"Oh, is that what I smell burning?" she teased back. When Dean didn't answer or even acknowledge her sass, she turned back to Sam, disbelieving. Sam shook his head, trying not to laugh. Natalie turned back to Dean and pushed his shoulder hard this time. He batted her hand away, irritated.

"Knock it off."

"What are you thinking?"

"He's gotta have some sort of special lock picking kit. It's the only way he could have gotten in."

"Oh my god, you're still on that?" Natalie groaned, rolling her eyes to the heavens as Sam failed to smother his laughter this time. "Dad. Let it GO."

Ignoring her completely, Dean stood up and took off for the stairs to the garage. "Dad, you're not going to find anything on the locks," Natalie called to his back patronizingly. Dean just took the stairs two at a time in response. Natalie heard the squeak of the door opening, and shuffling around it. She backed up to the library to see- sure enough, Dean had knelt down by the lock and was examining it carefully. "You're gonna kill your knees," she commented dryly, but when Dean once again ignored her, she threw up her hands in defeat.

"I don't know why he's so obsessed with figuring out how Taron got in," Natalie complained to Sam as she resumed her pacing. Sam gave her a patronizing look.

"Really? You REALLY can't figure out why your father is obsessed with figuring out how a teenage boy who has a crush on you broke into a seemingly impenetrable bunker? C'mon, kid, I KNOW you're smarter than that."

Just as Natalie whipped around to deliver a scathing retort- oh it was going to be scathing when she figured out what she was going to say, she had no doubt- Sam's eyes widened at something behind her. She flipped back around. Reginald and Taron were standing calmly, side by side, in the library doorway.

"Hey," she said awkwardly, then cursed herself for being so dumb and saying 'hey'. Reginald cleared his throat, clearly as embarrassed as she was.

"So sorry for that," he said evenly. "We had some…family business to discuss." At his side, Taron just rolled his eyes and shoved his hands in his pockets.

"No problem," Sam said smoothly, standing up and gesturing to the chairs around the war room table. "Have a seat. Well...that is…if you're staying."

The tension in the air grew thick for a second, before Reginald cleared his throat again. "It appears that we are," he said lightly, but his tone wasn't fooling anyone. He was still obviously pissed at Taron, but had made the concession to stay. His polished shoes clicking crisply across the floor, he made his way over to the table and sat down, neatly unbuttoning his suit jacket as he did so. Taron, however, in a display of his own rebellion, came and flopped down across the table from his father, putting a sneakered foot on top of the table. His sweatpants and tee shirt ensemble was such a far cry from the immaculate suit Reginald was wearing that it was nearly laughable. Reginald looked like he was about to burst a blood vessel at his son's obvious lack of decorum.

Taking a deep breath, Reginald composed himself, turning to Sam who had just sat back down. "Thank you again for your graciousness in letting him stay with you once again. As before, I can assure you that we had no intention of surprising you at home. Yet it seems to be an ongoing circumstance, and for that rudeness, I apologize."

"No problem, Reginald," Dean said loftily, making his way back down the stairs. Natalie gritted her teeth. She knew Dean was only using Reginald's preferred name as a dig at Taron. "Kid, why don't you go get our guests something to drink?" he continued.

Natalie pinched her lips together for a moment, before turning on her heel. "Don't discuss anything about the case until I'm back," she ordered, looking back over her shoulder. However, a quick glance at Dean's arched eyebrow made her gulp. "Please," she hastily tacked on. "Sir." Dean just jutted his chin out, silently ordering her to get a move on and not push her luck.

She rushed to grab bottled water, not putting it past Dean to start the conversation just to teach her a lesson. Racing back, she stopped and took a breath before walking back into the room. With the little bit of dignity she had left, she handed the bottles around and sat down next to Reginald.

"So," Sam began, after clearing his throat. "What can we help you with?"

"We have encountered what we believe to be another mutated monster," Reginald said tightly. All three Winchesters eyes went wide at that.

"Another one? Like the…worm from last time?" Natalie said, her voice going higher than she cared to admit. She still had nightmares about pulling that damn thing out of her own skin.

"Not another Khan worm, thankfully. But something much larger." Reginald took a tense drink from his water bottle, clearly trying to delay answering. When he realized there was no hope for it, he set the bottle down and looked at Dean, resigned. "A wendigo."

"A wendigo?" Dean said in disbelief. "You seriously trying to tell me that you've got a souped-up freakin' WENDIGO over there in jolly ol' England?!"

"Wait a moment," Sam said, holding up his hands. "Wendigos have almost never been found anywhere outside of Minnesota or Michigan. We found one in Colorado once, but haven't encountered them since. They're exceedingly rare."

"I'm aware of all the lore behind them, thank you," Reginald said icily, his face flushing a bit. Sam realized he'd inadvertently insulted the other hunter.

"Sorry," Sam apologized sincerely. "You just…you caught me off guard." Reginald seemed to thaw a bit at that.

"Quite right," he replied in a semi-softer tone. "This entire situation has got all the Men of Letters off guard as well. In fact, I shouldn't even be discussing it with anyone. It's strictly classified," he said, his eyes narrowing at his son. At that, Taron pulled his foot off the table and sat up immediately.

"But seeing as we ain't gettin' nowhere at home 'cept being told to run the same damn tests over 'n over, I figured if we wanted to actually get somewhere and make sure this damned thing is offed for good, then we needed help what wasn't going to keep making us chase our effing tails," Taron shot off in one breath. Natalie's shocked eyes slid over to Reginald, just in time to watch his ears turn red as Taron continued. "Again, apologies for barging in, but there didn't seem to be no other way to do it." He sat back, rapping his knuckles against the metal arms of the chair methodically. "We needed the help if we're gonna figure out what the hell this thing is."

"Seems like your old man got it figured out, kid," Dean said sternly. Taron's gaze swung to the other hunter, and he withered just a tiny bit at Dean's look. "Said it's a wendigo. What more do you need to know?"

"Yeah, but the bigger problem is it ain't the only one."

"What?" It was Natalie's turn to exclaim in shock. Taron nodded at her grimly.

"Yeah. Seems it had a mate. And it keeps attacking, knowing that we killed its partner."

"Since when do wendigos mate?"

"Exactly."

"Well, can't you spring a trap? You already killed the one, just set a trap and kill the other."

"It ain't that easy, mate. First off, like Dad said, these are enhanced Wendigos. Regular fire ain't doing the trick. Silver ain't either."

"Wh-what the hell?" Natalie stammered, her voice getting uncomfortably high again. "Those things are damn near perfect hunters already, and now you're telling me that fire or silver isn't working?"

"Well, yes and no," Reginald explained. "The first wendigo was…well, he was blown apart by a grenade."

"Did you say…a grenade?" Sam repeated, his jaw on the floor. Reginald nodded grimly.

"Indeed. It was the only thing that eventually stopped it. We had shot it with a flamethrower. Didn't even slow it down. It was only when we got lucky and launched it straight into its open mouth that it finally was subdued long enough to dismember it and burn the rest." Reginald took a quick sip of his water, clearly still struggling with the remembrances of that day. "We…we lost several good agents that day." Taron bowed his head remorsefully as well.

"So…you were able to torch the sucker after you took it apart?" Dean asked, oblivious to the somber moment. Both Natalie and Sam looked at him with exasperation, but it seemed to shake Reginald and Taron out of themselves.

"Quite," Reginald replied. "We used silver knives and axes of course, and other than the samples we kept, we burned the rest."

"You kept SAMPLES?"

"We needed to run tests on it to discover why it was fire resistant in the first place. But then we discovered that there was another wendigo hell-bent on getting revenge, and all the efforts went to chasing that one down."

"Well, all efforts- except for me, ain't that right?" Taron suddenly broke in bitterly. Reginald sighed heavily, clearly trying to keep his temper in check.

"Taron," he said in a warning voice. But Taron obviously didn't care about what his dad clearly wanted him to keep quiet about.

"Naw, that's alright, let everyone else go and die, 'slong as I stay cooped up in the lab running the same damn tests over and over with you lot wanting different results," he said, his rage clear and present in his voice. "D'know what Einstein said about doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results?" He glared pointedly at his father. Reginald gritted his teeth and turned his piercing gaze back on his son.

"You are to do as you're told, boy," he hissed, barely containing his rage. "You will follow protocol and keep to the code or by god-"

"You'll lock me up like one of the other lab rats?" Taron shouted, standing up quickly and shoving the chair behind him. "Well, mission accomplished on that one already, ain't it?" Without waiting for a reply, Taron stormed off, taking the stairs two at a time and charging through the door that was still standing open from Dean's previous inspections.

Natalie had been glued to her seat during the entire heated exchange. Sure, she and Dean had had some blowups before, but this was almost frightening with the level of sudden anger and rage pouring forth from the two men. She flinched a bit as Reginald stood up quickly and made to follow Taron, but Dean stood up just as quickly.

"Hold on there," Dean said in a soft but firm tone. "Maybe just give the kid some time to cool off, yeah?" He clapped a friendly hand on Reginald's shoulder. "C'mon. Got some kickass brandy back in the kitchen that might help take the edge off." Swallowing hard but not uttering a word, Reginald turned towards the kitchen, his back ramrod straight. With a quick but significant look, Sam and Dean followed him.

Neither of them noticed Natalie slipping up the stairs and outside.

*SPN SPN SPN*

It didn't take her long to find him. Basically, Natalie followed the path of destroyed fauna and found him sitting at the end of it on a rock on the creek bank, staring off into space. Taron turned his head slightly just to make sure it was her, then retrained his focus on the stretch of trees by the tiny stream.

Natalie chose a rock slightly apart from him so he didn't need to talk if he didn't want to and sat down, pulling her short legs underneath her and sitting cross-legged. After a few minutes of companionable silence, Taron let out a quiet chuckle.

"Well. Guess I just blew the whole mysterious-and-handsome-cool-as-a-cucumber-British-hunter trope, right?"

Natalie grinned wryly. "Naw, you blew that a long time ago," she teased.

"Ouch. Kick a man while he's down, woman."

"I'm a Winchester. Kicking while you're down is our version of a hug."

"Gotta keep that in mind."

"It would be a good idea." Another moment of silence. "You…wanna talk about it?"

Taron shrugged with a half-hearted snort. "What's there to talk about then? My dad, the gracious dictator, keeps me penned up in a fucking lab…" Taron broke off self consciously, kneading his jaw, then sighed and looked at Natalie. "Look, I know you don't care if I swear, and I know that you're a right sight better at it than I am even, but it's been drilled into my head since I was a kid that I ain't supposed to swear in front of a lady, so I'm sorry." The quickest flash of pain shot through his blue eyes, just long enough for it to break Natalie's heart.

She reached over and patted his back kindly. "Well, I can't really do much for unprogramming what's wired into your brain, but I thank you for the chivalry. Also," she leaned forward, letting the wicked grin spread slowly across her face. "I really don't fucking care." Taron laughed, and they both relaxed a bit.

"I'll try to keep it in mind, love," he said, winking mischievously. Natalie let her lips twist to the side in her typical I-won't-smile smirk, and made a big show of shaking her head and looking away. Can't let him know what that wink does to me, especially when I'm not even sure what it's actually doing to me.

Completely unaware of Natalie's internal battle, Taron continued. "As I was sayin', my dad just wants to keep me outta harm's way, right?" he said bitterly. "Wrong. He says that's why he wants me in the lab instead of on the field, but when I can't produce different results he annihilates me in front of our boss. Says I ain't tryin' hard enough, says I ain't givin' it my all. And it's freakin' humiliating, it is. It's like he's setting me up to fail for no reason other than making a show of force to his own damn superior. Also, you remember how last time I said that the higher-ups were keeping shi-…information from us?" Choosing to ignore the near slip, Natalie simply nodded. "I keep telling Dad that, and at first he believed me, but suddenly, about a month after we got back last time, he shut down. Stopped me every time I tried to talk about it, even though I only tried to talk about it in the privacy of our flat, never at work."

"Any ideas why he just stopped talking about it?"

"He has to be gettin' shit from his boss," Taron ground out, too angry to notice his slip. "Bloke named Ketch. Right smarmy bastard, if you ask me. Head of our division, thinks he knows it all. But I've been makin' friends in the organization too, and I ain't the only one who thinks he's full of it."

"Really? How many Men of Letters are in there in your chapter?"

"Used to be nearly 400 over all the UK. Our particular branch was around 70, but we lost at least twenty during the Wendigo attack."

"Wow. That really sucks, I'm so sorry."

Taron twisted his head away, trying not to show the grief in his eyes. "They were good men." He turned back, his charm covering up his pain. "They woulda gotten a kick outta you, love." Natalie rolled her eyes and hid her smile behind a fake rubbing of her nose. "Problem with 'em is that most of 'em believe every porky that comes outta the higher-ups."

"What's a porky?"

"Oh, sorry. Means lies."

"Gotcha. So you think your bosses are all lying to you? Why?"

"Because something big is going on. Something wicked massive, and on a global level."

"Why the hell wouldn't they tell you all?"

"Because they don't know what it is or how to fix it. They like their control, they do. And anything that contradicts that is seen as a threat. Even if it's one of us."

"Huh. Maybe that's why your dad is keeping you in lock down."

"How's that then?"

"Well, if you keep calling out the bosses, won't they try to eliminate you as a potential threat to their tidy little system?" Taron stared out into space without replying for so long that it got awkward. Finally, he cleared his throat a bit.

"Erm, yeah. Yeah, that makes sense. Wouldn't be the first time Dad's tried to protect me from them." Unable to help herself, Natalie turned to look at him, wanting him to elaborate but not quite feeling comfortable enough to ask. Still gazing out at the tree line, Taron spoke again. "So…Reginald isn't my real dad."

Out of everything, she wasn't expecting that. "Wh-what do you mean?" Natalie stammered, thrown at the direction this was taking. Taron smiled softly.

"I was four," he said, his voice sounding far away. "And…and a changeling captured me." Natalie's blood turned to ice. Dean had kept her far away from any case having to do with a changeling for her entire childhood for a good reason. "By the time Reginald found me, it was too late for my parents. I never saw 'em after they… he never let me look. Tells you how bad things got for 'em. Dad- Reginald- took me back to headquarters with him, determined to protect me. Ketch- his boss- wanted to shoot me instead. Said it was too likely that I was a changeling too, and would destroy all of 'em." Taron snorted derisively, lost in the memory, and shook his head. "Like Dad hadn't done every test under the sun on me already. Every other person in the organization voted to keep me once Dad proved I was human, except Ketch, and Reginald took it as his personal mission to adopt me. Took me in, raised me to be a Men of Letters just like him." Taron suddenly turned his head, as if he'd just realized Natalie was there. "I don't want you to think I ain't grateful. If it wasn't for Dad, I'd be dead a million times over, starting with Ketch's bullet through the back of my head at the age of four." Natalie nodded, unable to think of anything to say. "It's just that sometimes I can't tell if he's really on my side." He looked away again. "And I need him to be on my side," he finished softly. The grasshoppers softly chirped as the wind blew gently through the trees, underscoring the rush of the stream.

"I wish I had the magic words to help," Natalie said quietly after a long moment of silence. "I'm really sorry about your parents."

Taron smiled, a real smile this time. "Thanks. I try to honor their memories by thinking about 'em sometimes, y'know, but I was only four. There's only so many memories that I got. And Reginald has…well," Taron broke off, his shit-eating grin spreading across his face. "Despite the fact that I'm out here complaining about what an ass he is, he's really been aces as a dad."

"I've got a pretty great dad myself that I don't always agree with. I get it," Natalie said, smirking. Taron sniffed, rubbing his hands together.

"If you don't mind me asking, is that why your mom ain't around? You lose her to a monster too?" Natalie's spine stiffened, as it always did at the mention of her mother.

"No," she said firmly. "She…well, that's a mixed bag."

"Sorry, love. Didn't mean to pry."

"Naw, it's okay. I'll tell you what I know of the story sometime after I figure out how to get into my dad's liquor stock and deplete it without him knowing."

"Woulda thought you'd be an expert in that by now."

"Right? Go figure."

They both shared a companionable laugh, but broke off at the same time. Out of her periphery, she saw Taron's head turn slightly- right in the direction she had just heard the branch break.

Something was out here with them.

"What are the chances it's a rabbit?" Taron whispered, only loud enough for her to barely catch it.

"Slim to none," she breathed back, slowly standing up from the rock and extracting one of her bull's-eye knives from her boot as she straightened. She felt Taron rise beside her, completely at the alert himself. As one, they slowly began making their way back. However, Natalie turned a bit from the original path they had forged. Knowing that she was on her own home turf and would know better, Taron followed suit. He couldn't see anything up ahead, no bunker entrance or anything to indicate that they were heading inside.

Suddenly, a blur and an ungodly scream came flying through the trees on their right. Both hunters turned instantly as the wendigo came into view. It stopped, looked at Natalie and Taron, and slowly began stalking forward.

"Looks like your dad isn't the only thing that followed you across the pond," Natalie muttered. She ground her teeth together, ready to fight.