Hey fabulous SPN family! Here's to you having a great day!
Special thanks to my friend, Jenmm31. She's a Chuck-Send (see what I did there? :) ) Seriously, though, go check out her stories and show her some love, because she's the coolest in the world, and deserves the best!
A/N- in this story, Natalie is 7. Disclaimer- please see profile.
Little did he know, this was about to be one of the best moments of his life.
Dean had been out, picking up supplies in the town of their latest case. His hands were full of plastic shopping bags. Some contained salt, others, shot gun shells, still others, beer and chips. He wrestled all the bags out of the car, and closed the door to the Impala carefully with his foot. He walked up to the entrance of the crappy motel room they were staying at, cursing to himself that he hadn't left out his keys before loading his hands up with all of his purchases. He shifted the bags, trying to fish the keys out that he had just stuffed in his pocket. He finally had to set the bags down at the door, annoyed as hell. He yanked the key out, still cursing under his breath, inserted it into the lock, and turned the knob. As he was pushing the door open, he leaned down to get the bags, when he heard it.
"Shut. Up."
Dean stood up in surprise at Sam's tone- he hadn't even said anything, let alone stepped in the room. But when Dean got a glimpse of what was in front of him, he immediately understood why Sam had spoken.
Dean's seven year old daughter, Natalie, had her hands in Sam's hair. One side of his head was already woven into an elaborate French braid, and she was working on a matching braid on the other side, her little tongue poking out of her mouth as she concentrated on her task. Sam was sitting there, gritting his teeth at hearing Dean's key in the lock, knowing that he would never, ever, ever, hear the end of this.
Dean froze in the doorway, taking in the oh-so-glorious moment. His mouth slowly stretched open in delight. He tossed the bags to the side of the room, his eyes never leaving the hair-braiding party.
"I said, shut up," Sam growled, but didn't turn his head to look at his brother.
"Hi Dad," Natalie tossed over her shoulder, as if she didn't know that she was unintentionally providing Dean with enough cannon fodder to harass his brother with for...at least the next few months, possibly more.
"You know what?" Dean said, the utter joy of the moment ringing in his voice, his shit-eating grin plastered on his face. "I'm going to go outside, and come back in, just so I can have this moment all over again."
"Dean-" Sam began, but Dean was already gone. When the door was closed, Dean took a deep breath, squeezing his eyes shut, the huge grin threatening to crack his face in two. He opened the door again, with a loud "Honey! I'm Home!", and took the whole scene in once more. Natalie was still concentrating hard on getting the braid just right, and so ignored her father's antics. Sam, however, was indignantly tapping his fingers on his thigh.
"Was that really necessary?" Sam asked, annoyed.
"Abso-freaking-lutely," Dean responded cheerfully. He strode over towards the makeshift beauty salon, a bounce in his step. "So!" he asked jauntily. "Whatcha doin'?" He could barely keep the glee in his voice from breaking out.
"I wanted to learn how to French braid, but I couldn't do it on my own hair, just yet. So Uncle Sam's being really nice and letting me practice on him!" Natalie explained.
"Well. Isn't that special!" Dean gushed out in a teasing tone, causing Sam to shift uncomfortably again.
"Uncle Sam! Hold still!" Natalie scolded as she almost dropped a strand of hair.
"You better listen to your beautician, Samantha," Dean said seriously, before his face twisted into a grin again.
"Dean, if you even..." Sam began. Dean started shushing him, placing a finger on his lips.
"Shhh, Sammy. Just lay back and accept it." Sam smacked Dean's hand away from his face, but tried to keep his head still so he wouldn't mess Natalie up, and she'd have to restart this whole awful process. She got to the end of Sam's long hair, and wrapped one of her rubber hair things around the end. Sam just sat there, unwilling to look Dean in the face and admit that he was going to be his brother's bitch for...at least the next two days, probably.
"A fine job you've done, squirt," Dean said, complimenting his daughter. She beamed at Dean, and hugged Sam around his neck. He reached up and patted her arm affectionately, but still refused to turn his head to look at Dean.
"Aw, come on, Sammy. Let's see the pretty pretty princess look," Dean said, practically jumping with joy.
Sam turned his head as he spoke. "Dean, I swear to god, if you take a..."
CLICK.
Dean had had his phone at the ready, just waiting for the perfect photo opportunity. He chuckled as he saved the picture. "Oh, this is SO going on the Christmas card this year," he said, the evil laughter in his voice.
"Erase that, right now!" Sam yelled. Dean didn't even pay attention, he was too busy typing away. Sam suddenly realized what 'Dean typing' meant.
"Don't you even think about..."
"And, send," Dean said, jamming his finger onto the key with delight.
Immediately, Sam's phone buzzed in his pocket. He whipped it out. Sure enough, Dean, who was walking over towards the dumped bags still chortling, had sent the picture to what looked like his entire contact list. Sam just sighed and hung his head.
"Daddy, don't be mean to Uncle Sam!" Natalie scolded. "He was really nice to let me braid his hair."
"You're right kiddo. He's the nicest lady in the place."
"And he said that since I braided his hair, that I can paint your toenails!"
Dean stopped in surprise, and turned around to look at Natalie. "Hold on there. Nobody is painting nothing on me."
She gave him her best bitch face. Damn Sam for teaching her that, Dean thought. "Why not?" Natalie insisted.
"Because I said so, that's why." He picked up the bags and placed them on his bed, beginning to sort them out.
"Aw, c'mon! I want to learn how to do a pedi- pedi- Uncle Sam, what do you call it?"
"A pedicure," Sam said, his own evil grin meeting his brother's stubborn look.
Natalie walked up to her dad, tugging on his sleeve. "Pleeeeeeeeeeeease?" she said in her most innocent voice. Dean turned around to see the wide puppy dog eyes. He leaned down and looked her directly in the face.
"Kiddo, I love you more than my own life. But I will never- and let me be clear- NEVER- have my toenails painted. End of discussion," he said, tapping her on the nose with one finger. Her sad puppy eyes were instantly replaced with a childish pursing of her lips. Dean knew that she meant that look to be intimidating, but it was so damn cute. He chuckled, and resumed digging through the bags.
"Why don't you do a pedicure on Uncle Sam? Give him something nice to go with his fabulous new 'do," he said, still snickering.
Natalie shook her head and stomped her little foot. "He said that I got to paint your toenails since he was getting his hair braided."
"Well, Uncle Sam was wrong."
Natalie sighed and walked back to her uncle, who was furiously deleting the text messages as they came in. She leaned over his shoulder, and read one.
*Why do you have snakes growing out of your head? Natalie giggled to herself- that one had to be Castiel, but Sam deleted it before she could read who it was from.
"Ah, dammit, I left the lighter fluid in the car," Dean said, suddenly realizing he was missing a bag. "I'll be right back. And Sam?"
"Yeah?"
"Did you want me to get you some lipstick the next time I'm out?"
Sam just threw a pillow at the door, which Dean dodged easily, shutting the door behind him. They could hear his laughter all the way in the parking lot. Suddenly, Sam had a brain wave.
"Natalie!" he said in a whisper. Natalie turned her head from examining her father's purchases.
"Yeah?" she said.
"Come here, quick." She ran over to him, and stood silently, facing him. He leaned in, a wide grin spreading on his face.
"I think it's time to teach you the fine art of the Winchester Prank War."
*SPN SPN SPN*
That night, Dean was sleeping peacefully. They had a new case, fresh round of supplies, and Natalie had inadvertently provided him with a fantastic running gag to torture Sam with until this case was over. He was so deeply asleep in his own bliss, that around two o clock in the morning, he didn't even feel the small hands pushing the bedclothes away from his feet, or hear the quiet breathing of a concentrating seven year old.
All of the sudden, a brushing of someone else's skin across his bare feet made his eyes instantly snap open. But before he could move, a humongous weight fell on him, directly onto his torso, knocking all the air out of his lungs. He gasped for breath for a moment, trying, in his sleep befuddled state, to make sense of what was going on. Before he could really catch his breath, Sam spoke up.
"He didn't knock over the bottle, did he?" Dean blinked sleepily- Sam's voice had come from...overhead. He focused on the thing sitting on his chest, and sure enough, it was Sam. Sam, however, wasn't looking back at him. He was staring down at the end of the bed, at Dean's feet.
"Whuzz goin' on?" Dean asked, sleepily. He tried to get up, but Sam was pinning him down to the bed with no intention of getting up. Dean craned his head to the side. What he saw absolutely horrified him.
His toenails were bright purple.
Natalie, clad in her Batman pajamas, was concentrating hard on slathering the nail polish perfectly onto each nail. "No, he didn't knock over the bottle- I got it!" she said with delight.
"Hey!" Dean yelled. She looked up innocently and smiled at him. "You stop that, right now!" he commanded.
"I'm almost done," she said patronizingly, and went right back to work. Dean's mouth dropped open. Sam chuckled with glee. Dean's furious gaze moved to his brother. "Sam!" he grunted. "Get off of me. Now!"
"No can do, big brother. You might mess up your pedicure."
"Sammy, I swear to god, if you don't..." Sam stopped Dean by pressing a finger to his lips.
"Sh...just lay back and let it happen," Sam whispered evilly, just as Dean had done to him earlier. Dean thunked his head back down on the pillow, unable to believe this turn of events. He tried bucking Sam off again, but his giant moose of a brother had him down good.
"Daddy! Quit squirming!" Natalie scolded. Dean gritted his teeth while Sam just laughed. Dean leaned his head forward again as far as he could.
"When this is over, you both are dead meat. You're gonna wish you had never even heard of the words 'nail polish'. Got me?" he roared in his most intimidating, scary voice- the voice that had made demons flinch, vampires go running for cover, and skin walkers jump out of their skins. He got no response from the seven year old girl. Sam simply held up his camera phone and snapped a picture.
*SPN SPN SPN*
The next morning, Dean had tried everything he knew of to scrub the purple polish off. Despite all his ministrations, his toes still looked like they had been sucked on by a big purple dinosaur. He stormed out of the bathroom. Natalie was sitting at the motel room table, working on school work, in spite of the fact that it was only eight o' clock in the morning.
"Sam go get breakfast?" Dean asked. Natalie nodded, and looked up from her book. Her eyes immediately scanned down to her father's bare feet, where her toils from the night before were still evident. She grinned hugely.
"Don't know what you're grinning about," Dean snarled at her. "You're in big trouble, missy."
Natalie's eyes swung to his face. "For what?" she asked innocently.
Dean's eyes widened, and he gave a disbelieving huff as he pointed to his purple toenails.
"Oh. That."
"Yeah, that."
"Uncle Sam said I wouldn't get in trouble for that."
"Really."
"Uh-huh."
"Uncle Sam was, once again, wrong."
"He said I wouldn't get in trouble because it was a prank."
That made Dean stop short. He took a moment to digest Natalie's words. If Sam was teaching Natalie about pranks... His brain began to spin out as the possibilities of the moment came at him, wave after glorious wave.
"A prank, you say."
"Yup. He said it was time I learned the 'art of the Winchester Prank War'." For the second time in twenty four hours, Dean's mouth stretched open with sheer delight.
"A prank war, huh? Did he tell you anything else about this prank war?" he asked, trying to keep his voice casual. Oh, he had waited for this day for so long...
Natalie shrugged. "Not really. He just said that we had to work together, and he told me the plan, and we did it." She looked at Dean inquisitively. "So what happens now?"
Dean rubbed his hands together eagerly. "Now, my minion, it is our turn. And...we wait."
"Wait for what?"
"The perfect opportunity." Dean turned away from her, his prankster mind going at ninety miles an hour. "Game on, little brother. Game on."
*SPN SPN SPN*
Sam had expected Dean to retaliate immediately with a prank, but it was three days later, and there had been absolutely nothing. Sam knew that wasn't a good sign. It just meant Dean was plotting something. And Dean plotting something was never to be taken lightly. He had been on his guard, double checking everything from his beer bottles to his clothing, both popular targets in the Dean Winchester Prank arsenal. They had finished the case they were working on, and were heading back to Bobby's for a while.
Another two days after being home, Sam was starting to relax. It was possible that Dean just wasn't feeling a prank war right now. This would be the first time in history, but never had he taken so long to respond either. He was a pretty in-the-moment kind of guy. Regardless, Sam let his guard down.
Which was exactly what Dean had been teaching Natalie to wait for.
That night, Dean was on dinner duty, and as such, enlisted Natalie's help. When everything was nearly ready, Natalie went searching through the house, looking for Sam. She found him up in his room, reading. She knocked on the door.
"Come in!" he said. She pushed it open a bit, and poked her head in.
"Dinner's ready, Uncle Sam." He put a bookmark in, and dropped the novel on the bed. She eyed it curiously.
"Whatcha reading?" she asked.
"Game of Thrones," he said.
"What's it about?"
"Stuff to make you ask a lot of questions, Bug," he responded with a chuckle. Natalie just rolled her eyes. That was her uncle's go-to answer when she asked about stuff that he deemed "too old" for her. No matter. She'd just ask Dean later. Sam noticed her taking her time walking with him, instead of just tearing down the stairs, like she usually did.
"Is Bobby down there already? Sam asked her. She nodded. "Is that why you're actually walking for once, and not running?" he laughed.
She shrugged and grinned. "Pops gets mad when I run in the house, so I don't anymore." Sam looked sideways at his niece, marveling at how mature she was getting, even though she was only seven. "And yes, he's already in the kitchen. Come on, I'm hungry!" she said, taking his hand and tugging on it. Sam just laughed and picked up the pace.
When they got into the kitchen, Sam saw that they had already set the table. To his surprise, a small side salad was waiting at each place. Sam's curious gaze swung to Dean, who caught it and shrugged.
"You're always harping on us to eat better- I figured I'd try it. But only once, mind you," Dean said, pointing a finger at Sam.
"Well, good job. I'm proud of you," Sam said.
"I can't take all the credit- it was actually Natalie's idea."
"Really?" Sam turned, and ruffled Natalie's hair. "Well done, kid!"
She gave him her adorable grin. "Thanks, Uncle Sam!" Bobby started making his way towards his chair, slowly. "Sit down, Pops, dinner's ready!" Natalie announced loudly, causing all the men to wince at the decibel level.
"Geez, kid, you seem to get louder and louder the older you get," he complained. Natalie just giggled, and skipped towards the stove where Dean was putting the final touches on the burgers he was making. She grabbed his sleeve and tugged.
"Dad! Come on!" she whispered urgently, her mischievous grin spreading on her face.
"Patience, my padawan, patience," he whispered back, leaning down towards her. "Don't give him any reason to suspect that something's up." Natalie nodded once, and let Dean's sleeve go. She pranced back to her seat, clambering up into it, and tried to school her features into a calm mask, just like her dad had taught her to. For a seven year old, she was already pretty good at it. Dean made his way towards the table, the hot platter in his hands. He set it down, and took his seat with the rest of his family. He casually picked up the vinaigrette dressing that he knew Sam liked, and passed it over to his brother.
"Thanks," Sam said, taking the bottle, and shaking some onto his salad. "So did you make the salad all by yourself, Nat?" he asked. She nodded proudly.
"I picked it all out and even chopped up all the tomatoes and stuff!" she said, beaming with joy.
"Did you think it was a good idea to give a seven year old a chopping knife?" Bobby asked Dean scathingly. Dean's eyes rolled, then landed on Bobby.
"She already knows how to throw one. Figured I could at least teach her what they're really used for." Bobby thought for a moment, then shrugged and nodded. Dean was actually right for once. Meanwhile, Sam was busy digging into his salad. It was actually pretty good- he was impressed. Natalie had tossed in quite a variation of vegetables, and there was this unique flavor to it as well. It was like a touch of a spice that he couldn't name. He took another big mouthful. There it was again- only this time, it was more than a touch of spice. Whatever he had bitten into, was now burning. Burning profusely. He coughed once, hoping that he had just bitten down on a peppercorn or something, but the ache didn't stop. His eyes darted up to the rest of the people at the table. It was only then that he noticed Dean grinning evilly at him, and Natalie squirming in her chair, looking like she was waiting for Christmas Day to start. Before he could utter a single word- which would have been difficult due to the fact that his mouth was on fire- Dean spoke.
"Yeah. Natalie did a great job making the salad, didn't she?" He turned towards his daughter with the air of a talk show host interviewing a guest. Natalie turned back to him, with the look of pious innocence on her face.
"So tell me, Natalie- what's your secret ingredient?" he asked. Sam's watering eyes widened. He looked at his niece in horror.
"Ghost chilies!" she squeaked, and then burst into giggles. Sam nearly went ballistic. Ghost chilies were one of the hottest peppers known to all mankind. The burn could last for hours, not to mention, tear up his insides like a hellhound with an expired contract. He reached for his glass of water, only to find there was none there. He scrambled for a moment, then his peppered out brain asked the only thing it could think of.
"Where's my water?" he gasped, the burn now reaching maximum scoval levels. He saw Dean nudge Natalie, and raise his eyebrows at her. She nodded in acknowledgement of the cue. She turned back to Sam with her angelic smile.
"I'm sorry- we're all out of water today!" she said, in what was clearly a carefully rehearsed line. Dean just shot Sam his most cocky grin, as if to say, yeah, I totally told her to say that. Sam bolted from the table towards the kitchen cabinets. He could hear both Dean and Natalie roaring with laughter behind him as he fumbled for a glass, desperately hoping they had milk in the fridge to soothe the burn. He yanked the fridge open and pulled out the milk jug, quickly pouring himself a glassful, and downing it as fast as he could.
"Geez, Sammy, I half expected you to chug from the carton. Even on fire, you're still such a girl!" Dean said, in between peals of laughter. Sam just glared at him- his mouth was still burning too badly to speak. He poured himself another glass. He was going to get Dean back for this. Big time. Whatever he came back with, it had to be epic. His eyes narrowed, and his brain set to work. He didn't answer, just sat back down at the table, still sweating profusely. He just glared at his brother.
"Jerk," he finally spat out hoarsely.
At that, Natalie laughed so hard, she fell off her chair, causing Dean to whoop like a gibbon, and even Bobby started to chuckle. She picked herself back up and plopped back down, still giggling madly. "All's fair in the Winchester Prank War, Uncle Sam!" she managed to get out before succumbing to giggles again. Dean was laughing watching his daughter in hysterics, paying no mind to Sam at all.
"Hold on," Bobby said. "You idjits are in the middle of another one of your prank wars? And you brought the kid into it?" No one answered him, but they didn't need to. Between Dean's smug grin, Natalie's giggles, and Sam's watery eyes, that was all the confirmation he needed. He shook his head and looked at Sam.
"You're getting rusty, boy." He pointed to Sam's salad. "Even I saw that one coming a mile away."
*SPN SPN SPN*
It had been a month. A whole month. They had ganked a werewolf that had been terrorizing the outskirts of Detroit, rescued a family being tormented by a poltergeist in Pennsylvania, and almost gotten arrested- twice. And still, Sam hadn't retaliated. Dean suspected he was pissed because Natalie was so deeply involved in pranking now. She had been trying to pull fast ones over on the two of them almost daily. All the juvenile tricks from joy buzzers to whoopee cushions. Silly String was becoming a particular favorite, but her supply seemed to be out, and they had collectively agreed to not let her anywhere near any store that may replenish her supply. Dean knew it was coming- but he had no idea why it was taking Sam so long.
They had heard of a case in Kansas, where supposedly stray cats and dogs were attacking people in the street. They had just pulled in the night before. Owing to Natalie's love of all things that had to do with dogs, Dean and Sam had told her she was going to be spending a lot of time in the motel on this one. Sam had been working on an elaborate school assignment for her, to keep her occupied while they were dealing with the case. She was doing very well with her "road" schooling, as she called it, and Sam found he kept having to up the level from where she would normally be at in a public school. He had devised a big history assignment, bound to keep her busy researching and writing while they worked on the animal case.
The first morning of the case was when Sam and Natalie decided to strike. Dean slipped into the bathroom to take a shower, and they immediately went into action. By the time he emerged about ten minutes later, Natalie was calmly sitting at the table working on her history, while Sam was tying his shoes. He was wearing his jeans, but had apparently forgotten to take a shirt into the bathroom with him. Or (he later discovered) Natalie was just really good at silently picking locks and slipping into rooms.
He yanked his duffle bag onto his bed. One of his favorite tee shirts was right on top, so he pulled it on over his head. He made to pull it down the rest of the way over his torso, but noticed something odd. The shirt seemed to be...out of fabric. He yanked down on it, thinking it was just folded underneath itself or stuck or something, but the shirt wouldn't yield. He pulled so hard he actually heard the material tear. He ripped the shirt off over his head, and turned to glare at the other two Winchesters in the room. Sam was finishing knotting his laces. He looked up nonchalantly.
"What?" he said. His eyes traveled to Dean's hands holding what was left of the shrunken shirt. "What did you do to your shirt?" he asked innocently. Dean just growled under his breath, and looked at his daughter. She hadn't moved. Her eyes were still scanning her history book, but he could see the smallest hint of a smile on her face.
"That the best you two got?" Dean said, balling up his shirt and tossing it at Natalie's head. She looked up and caught it with her lightning reflexes. She unraveled the shirt and held it up in front of her. It was so small, she could have easily fit in it. She looked up at him like she had no idea what was going on, but he wasn't fooled. She couldn't seem to keep the corners of her mouth from turning up.
"What did you do to your shirt, Daddy?" she asked, then clapped her hand over her mouth to stifle her giggles.
"A ha ha ha. Shut it," he growled at her playfully. He yanked another shirt out of his duffle bag, and held it up. Sure enough, it too looked like it was built for a toddler instead of a thirty nine year old man. He kept pulling shirt after shirt out, coming to the realization as to why it had taken these two yokels so long to retaliate. They had replaced all his tee shirts with tiny versions of the originals.
"Son of a bitch!" he yelled. He turned to Sam. "Where are they?" he roared.
"Where are what?" Sam asked, his own grin plastered on.
"Oh, for god's sake," Dean grumbled. He finally found a shirt at the bottom of the duffle that didn't seem to be sized for a midget. He shook the heather gray tee shirt out from its folded form, and turned his head towards Sam and Natalie. "Ha!" he said triumphantly, pulling the shirt over his head. "You missed one."
"Did we, though?" Sam said casually. Dean froze, then turned to look at himself in the motel room mirror hanging on the wall. A very colorful kitten was plastered on the front. He had completely missed the kitten graphic when he was taunting his brother and daughter. He instantly tore the shirt off. He knew better than to try to go for Sam's duffle bag, so he begrudgingly turned the shirt inside out and put it back on. Natalie had turned back to her school work with a delighted grin. Sam slapped his thighs, and stood up.
"Come on, let's go," he announced cheerfully. Dean just rolled his eyes and pulled his boots towards him. He angrily jammed one boot on, and was rewarded by a sudden cracking of his toes. His feet had hit a barrier inside his boots, making them way too small. He looked up once more to see Sam and Natalie both watching him this time, evil grins on both faces.
"Really?!" he thundered, plunging his hand into the boot, pulling out a wad of cotton that had been stuffed into the toe. He threw it at Sam, who just laughed and bobbed his head at his niece.
"Wow! The shirts are small, the boots are small. Dad- you must be getting your growth spurt!" Natalie pronounced. Dean just did a slow burn to her, not believing what was coming out of her mouth. Sam did a hell of a job coaching her through this one, he thought bitterly. And she wasn't even done yet.
"Maybe now you'll be as tall as Uncle Sam!"
Sam doubled over laughing at that. Dean continued to glare at his daughter, and she just smugly returned the look.
"You both have no idea what's coming at you. Don't come crying to me when it gets to be too much," he threatened with a growl. He stalked out of the door, Sam right on his tail. He unlocked the car door, and threw himself into the driver's seat of the Impala. But his knees crunched against the steering wheel.
They had moved his car seat.
They had touched Baby.
Dean rocketed out of the car, and walked directly in front of Sam, who was still laughing.
"You messed with my car," he said quietly. Sam stopped laughing. Dean stepped around him, and stalked back to the room. Throwing open the door, he didn't even stop moving, walking straight up to Natalie.
"Did you touch Baby?" he growled. Her laughing green eyes suddenly went wide as she heard the no-longer-joking tone of his voice. He was towering over her, and to a seven year old, he was huge. She slunk down in her chair a bit, not daring to move her eyes away from Dean's face. As Sam walked through the door, she pointed at him timidly.
"He did it," she whispered urgently. Sam threw up his hands in disgust.
"Way to throw me under the bus, kid," he said, a trace of humor still in his voice. That little joking lilt in Sam's voice did Dean in. He whipped around, and pounded back to Sam, getting right in his face.
"You messed with my car?!" he yelled. Sam held up his hands placating him.
"Just the seat. We didn't do anything else, I swear," he said in a calming tone, that idiotic grin still on his lips.
Dean pointed a finger right in Sam's face. "If you did, Sammy, I swear to god I'll-"
"There's nothing else," Sam said, cutting his raving brother off. Dean nodded one short jerky nod, then yelled over his shoulder.
"Natalie!" he bellowed. She slunk down even farther in her chair. "Come here!" he ordered. In spite of the fact that it was the last thing on Earth she wanted to do, she obeyed, walking quickly over to him. Before he could say anything, she spoke in a whisper, afraid.
"I'm sorry, Daddy. We were just having fun. I didn't mean to make you mad," she said miserably. Dean took a deep breath. Great. He had scared her. Once again, his insane overreactions hurt his kid. He kneeled down so he could look at her on her level.
"It's okay, squirt," he said, trying to calm his voice down. "I'm not mad. But- and listen good to this- when we pull pranks in this family, the car stays out of it. Got it?"
"Yes sir," she said, a bit louder than before, a hint of relief in her voice as she realized that Dean wasn't actually mad at her. Dean stood up straight and fixed Sam with a focused gaze.
"Next time? No car."
Sam just nodded, unable to keep from grinning. He knew Dean would be over this in a few minutes, and everything would be fine. Dean just shook his head, then looked back at the two of them.
"You two almost ran out your time limit on this one. A whole month?" Dean asked, a touch of lightness back in his voice. Sam's grin just broadened.
"We had to find a duffle bag's worth of shirts that looked enough like yours," Sam explained.
Natalie giggled once, and Dean's face finally cracked into a smile. She looked up, realizing that he had recovered his humor, and she grinned back. "Did you like the kitten shirt bit?" she asked tentatively.
"I have to admit. That was a nice touch," he said, his mouth twisting to the side in amusement.
"That one was all Natalie," Sam proclaimed. Dean looked with amazement down at her. She was grinning proudly, twisting from side to side. He just chuckled.
"That's my girl," he said, ruffling her hair. She giggled and grabbed his hand.
"Hey!" she said, tugging his hand. He looked down at her. "I love you," she said, with her heart stopping grin.
He put on his best cocky grin and shrugged. "I know," he said casually, which caused her to giggle again. "I love you too, fuzz ball."
"I know!" she said in between fits of laughter.
"Good," he said. "So now we come to the truce." Sam sighed, but nodded.
"What's a truce?" Natalie asked, wiping her eyes from the tears of laughter.
"It's when we all stop pranking each other and get back to normal, everyday life," Sam explained. She wrinkled her little nose.
"That's no fun," she complained. Dean nodded in agreement.
"I know. But truces must be made- and kept. Got it?" he asked, pointing at her.
She tilted her head coyingly to one side. "Got it," she said sincerely. Dean looked inquisitively at Sam. They didn't even need to speak. Sam reached out his hand, and Dean grasped it. They shook on it, once.
"Wow. A whole month to set that one up. Damn, Sammy, I think you went for a new record." The brothers laughed together. Natalie didn't say anything. She was already too busy planning the next move for when the Winchester Prank War resumed.
