Good Day my Beautiful, Wonderful, Spectacular SPN Family! Oh, how I've missed you. I apologize for the delay in posting- I've been working 12 plus hour days recently, and haven't had a chance to do, well, anything. But I'm back!
Much gratitude and love to all of you who take the time to read and review- your reviews are Heaven on Earth. I appreciate knowing what you think and want to see. The next couple chapters will be requests! If you have anything that you would like to read, please let me know! I've had so many requests for little Natalie, that I had to share this one with you guys. I hope you enjoy it!
Biggest thank you in the world to Jenmm31. The best cheerleader I've ever had. I owe you one, Sammy. Please go check out her fabulous stories. She's brilliant and insightful with a great sense of humor. You will love her works.
Enough from me- let's hear from the kid! Big hugs to all of you- please read, review and enjoy! Love you all!
A/N- in this story, Natalie is 3. For disclaimer, please see my Profile Page.
It was a warm Thursday afternoon in the middle of Indiana. The August sun was beating down full force on the small town where the Winchesters had just completed another case. It was too warm to even think about packing it up and leaving- not just yet. Too warm to let a hyperactive three year old run around outside long enough to exhaust her before another road trip. Dean pulled his shirt collar away from his neck rapidly a few times, begging for a bit of relief. The air conditioner in the motel room was going full blast, but it wasn't entirely enough to keep them comfortable, especially when Natalie wanted to keep running around like a maniac. They had finally convinced her to stop when Sam picked her up and suggested reading through her books. She loved being read to, and had finally capitulated. She sat quietly in Sam's lap as he had read book after book. Since it was keeping her from tearing through the room and dehydrating herself in this heat, not to mention making the air conditioner work double duty, Sam had been only too happy to keep plowing through everything in her small library. Besides, he really did enjoy reading to her. Listening to her giggle at her favorite parts, gasp when something happened- like she hadn't heard the same story dozens of times- it all never ceased to entertain him. He knew they didn't have long to enjoy times like this, so he was determined to make the most of every moment he could with his niece. Their lives just turned too much on a dime to not take advantage of these rare, peaceful pauses.
Dean was sitting on his own bed, listening to Sam's lilting voice as he read all about a giant beanstalk and a scrappy thief named Jack. He looked over at his brother and smiled. He knew how much Sam loved this. He also knew that Sam was reaching the end of Natalie's small stack of books, having plowed through Green Eggs and Ham, Goldilocks, Sleeping Beauty, and a couple Bernstein Bears. He made a mental note to try to grab a couple more of those little golden books that she liked then next time he was out, especially the fairy tales. Natalie was becoming obsessed with them. Dean had managed to stay away from all the Disney crap so far, but he knew it was only a matter of time before she demanded them. He also knew he needed a game plan for the moment, since Sam's story time was quickly running out. He pulled their bag of weaponry onto his worn out bedspread, and carefully began pulling a couple guns and knives out, laying them out one by one. Sam's eyes darted to him, and when he saw Dean unloading the bag, he stopped reading for a moment. He was about to ask Dean what in the world he was doing, when he felt a small hand push on his chest.
"Unca Sam! Read!" Natalie said, pointing emphatically at the book. Sam shook his head.
"Um, hang on a second, Bug," he said, laying the book down, and leaning over towards Dean.
"No! Read!" she said, pushing both small hands against his chest this time.
"Natalie," Dean said blankly. Even though there was no emotion behind it, Natalie knew what her father meant when he said her name like that. It meant 'stop whatever it is you're doing, now'. She stuck her lower lip out as far as it would go, and slumped back into Sam's chest, annoyed at having her pastime interrupted. Dean looked over at his pouting daughter, and rolled his eyes. She was so damn stubborn sometimes. He had no idea where she got it from. Must have been her mother. That bitch.
Sam tilted his head, looking at the arsenal. "What are you doing?" he asked, interrupting Dean's uncharitable thoughts towards his ex.
"You're almost at the end of the book," Dean said, lifting up his favorite silver .45 into the light, inspecting it. "If we don't come up with another form of entertainment soon, we're going to have a straight up rebellion on our hands." His eyes slid back to Natalie, who was now pounding Sam's thighs impatiently, albeit silently, waiting for him to start reading again. Sam didn't pay any attention to the tiny fists though. He only had eyes for the dangerous paraphernalia littering Dean's bed.
"You're going to let her play with the weapons?!" Sam asked incredulously. He knew that Dean had a much different approach to parenting than most, but this? This was insane, even for him.
Dean gave Sam his best are you freaking kidding me? face. "Yeah. I'm going to let a three year old loose in a crowded room with a loaded gun. Just for kicks and giggles. See how rusty you've really gotten." Sam gave Dean his best bitch face, causing Dean to roll his eyes again. "I'm going to show her what all these weapons are," he said, using the gun to gesture to the other three pieces on the bed.
"You really think that's a good idea?"
Dean shrugged. "I think it's a freaking great idea. You know how she gets when she's bored. She already steals our phones every chance she gets, no matter how many times we tell her not to. It's only a matter of time before she starts digging through the bags." He looked back at his .45, making sure it was unloaded. "I'd rather be the one to show her this stuff, and teach her that she's not supposed to play with it until we tell her to."
"Play with it?!"
"You know what I mean."
"And when exactly is that going to be?"
"Gee, I don't know. I was thinking of taking her out to the gun range...what...tomorrow? Do ya think that's too soon?"
"I don't need the snark, Dean."
"Sam, how the hell am I supposed to know the exact date when that's gonna happen? When she's ready, she'll be ready, and I'll just know."
"How?"
"I just will, okay? Geez," Dean grumbled. "Freaking mother hen over here."
Sam heaved a big sigh. If he had his way, he'd keep Natalie as far away from this whole lifestyle as possible. But since day one, literally since the day Natalie had come into this world, Dean was determined to keep her at his side. He and Dean had gone round and round several times on this, but Dean wasn't budging. They both had grown up without their mother, and their dad had constantly been on the hunt, seeking revenge for his wife's death. They both knew John had loved and cared for them in his own way- but it had always felt like he loved them as much as he could, and no more. The man had been consumed by grief, and had dealt with it by bringing his boys into the hunting world. It had been the only way he could have survived.
It had been hell on all three of them, with the boys growing up like that, but it had cemented Dean's resolve to hunt. Even now that they were adults, Dean would never be able to fully leave the hunting world, despite his best efforts. It always came back, never letting go, never letting them rest. Sam was the same way. They would have been fools to expect that any offspring either one of them had would have been left alone by the Other Side, even if they had managed to go into hiding. There were too many evil supernatural beings out there gunning for Winchester blood. It didn't matter to a demon if it was one of the brothers they caught- they would have almost been happier to get their hands on a Winchester child. And Sam and Dean both knew it. So they were going to keep Natalie with them as long as possible.
Sam returned his attention to his niece, who was now kicking her heels into the bed, trying to get Sam's focus back. For being only three, she was surprisingly strong, and the bed springs were creaking under her assault. Sam smiled to himself.
"Alright, alright, Bug," he said soothingly. "I'm back with you." The kicking immediately stopped, and she reverted to being the perfect child once more. She squealed in delight, and cuddled back into Sam's arms. She stabbed her finger into the open book.
"You was there," she said insistently.
"You WERE there," Sam corrected gently. She didn't say anything, just waited for him to start the story again. He chuckled, and resumed reading. They finished out the book quickly, Natalie pumping her tiny fist in the air when Jack got the best of that nasty giant. Sam chuckled- she looked just like a miniature Dean when she did that. Sam placed the book on the now completed stack next to him. Natalie bounced up, already ready for her next form of entertainment. She stood on the bed, and twisted around so she was facing her uncle. The old bed frame wobbled dangerously, even from her tiny body, and she lurched to the side, trying to steady herself.
"Whoa, hang on there Bug," Sam said, reaching out to grab her before she fell. "Don't jump up on the bed like that."
She giggled and dodged him. "It's fun!" she said, pleased with her new game of keep away from Uncle Sam.
Sam's quick reflexes put an end to that. He grabbed her sides tightly, before she could jump away again, afraid she was still going to tumble to the floor. "It's dangerous. Sit down on the bed, please."
"No!" came the knee jerk toddler reaction.
"Natalie, please sit down on the bed," Sam tried again, convinced that if he said "please" enough, she would listen. She wriggled, trying to get out of his grasp.
"NO!"
"Natalie!" Dean barked. She immediately stilled, and looked over at her dad, trying to assess how serious he was this time. He was definitely giving her The Eye. She whimpered once more in protest, just to see what he would do. Dean cocked one eyebrow at her. That was all it took. She plopped down on the bed with a huff, her lower lip poking out again, but she didn't try to get back up on the bed. Seeing that she was behaving, arguably under protest, but still behaving, Dean looked at Sam.
"You gotta learn to be more firm with her, Sam," Dean said in his low tone. "This 'please' crap isn't going to work. Otherwise she's gonna run over you like a steam roller." Sam just looked away. He knew Dean was right- well, about the steam roller part; he still believed his 'please' method would win out- but he couldn't help it. His soft spot for her was way more in control than the disciplinary side. It was difficult for him, especially when she started pouting. That lower lip had managed to get her out of any number of scrapes, even though Sam would never have admitted it. However, before he could retort, Dean called out to Natalie.
"Hey, kiddo, come here," he said in a gentler voice, letting Natalie know she wasn't in trouble any more. The lower lip instantly disappeared, and she pushed herself off the bed, running over to Dean. He picked her up, and set her on his lap, her back to his front. He wrapped his arms around her, squeezing her tight. He leaned down and snorted like a pig into her ear, causing her to jerk away in a flurry of giggles, which just caused him to snort louder, until she was shrieking with laughter. When she finally caught her breath, Dean reached down and picked up his .45 carefully.
"Alright, squirt. Now I want to show you all this, but you listen to me- Don't. Touch. Anything. Not one thing. Got it?"
Natalie nodded her head in wonder. Usually Dean let her play with just about anything she could get her hands on. She had no idea what these things were, and was curious enough to obey her father to find out. Besides, she really hated when she was in trouble with Daddy, so she tried to do what he said. Most of the time.
Dean slowly brought the unloaded .45 in front of him, watching Natalie's hands. She was keeping them firmly planted on his legs, just looking with her eyes. He smiled once, pleased that she was doing as she was told.
"This is a gun," he said. Her head cocked to the side as she stared at the weapon. "This is one of the things we use to kill the monsters that we hunt."
"Oh," she whispered her voice full of wonder. Her piercing green eyes stared at the shiny silver. She wanted so badly to touch it, but she knew that her daddy wouldn't like it, so she didn't.
"It's very dangerous. That's why I don't want you touching it until I tell you that you can. Got it?"
"How's it dangerous?"
"Because if it isn't held right, or treated with respect, it can go off and hurt you and other people. That's why you don't play with them or touch them."
Natalie nodded seriously. She pointed to a small pistol to Dean's right. "Is that a gun too?" she asked in a whisper.
Dean nodded, grinning. His kid was so damn smart. "Yup. Good job, squirt."
"Why are they other colors?"
Dean took a split second to puzzle out what she meant by that. It finally dawned on him that she was asking why one was silver and the other black. "Because we need different guns for different things. Sometimes, we have to use different types of guns to kill monsters."
"You throw the gun at them?"
Dean smothered a laugh. "Not exactly. This part- right here?" He twisted the gun around to the side, pointing. "This is called the trigger. You pull on that, and that makes the gun go off."
"And that kills monsters."
"What's in the gun kills the monster. For spirits, we use rock salt bullets. For werewolves and shape shifters, we use silver. So all kinds of different bullets kill different monsters. Understand?"
"Yup!"
Dean nodded, put the .45 down, and picked up his sawed-off. "This is a kind of a gun too," he exclaimed, bringing it in closer after quickly double checking that it was unloaded. He felt Natalie's little fists bunch up on his legs, but stay put. He knew they were going to be reaching the end of today's lesson soon. She was still only three, for crying out loud- her capacity for "Don't Touch" when she was being presented with all these shiny new objects was going to wear out soon. He turned the shotgun over in his hands, showing her.
"This is called a sawed-off. We use this one to shoot ghosts and spirits." Natalie squirmed, but didn't reach her hands out, even though every fiber of her being desperately wanted to touch it.
"Okay, kiddo. One more, then we'll put all this stuff away," Dean said, sensing her frustration at having to look just with her eyes. He picked up the demon knife. Natalie gasped once, and bound off Dean's lap, twisting around quickly as only an agile three year old can do. She sat face to face with Dean, sitting on her hands. She knew if she didn't, she would touch it and he would be mad. But she had never seen anything so pretty before. Dean held the knife in both hands, but close to his chest. She leaned in for a better look. Dean watched her little eyes light up in delight.
"Wow," she whispered. "It VERY pretty!"
"Uh huh," Dean said. He chuckled to himself- pretty wasn't what usually crossed his mind when he thought of this particular knife, but hey, what did he know? He carefully laid it on the bed, close enough to himself to grab it if temptation became too much for the three year old, but close enough to her that she could look at the writing on it. She put her hands on either side of the knife to balance herself better on the bed, and looked closely at the inscription.
"What does it say?" she asked breathlessly. Dean was thrown for a moment- for the life of him, he couldn't remember. He looked over quickly at Sam, who shrugged. Natalie took advantage of that rare moment of her father's distraction, and was reaching her hand out to put one finger on the knife- just one. One finger couldn't hurt, right? And it was just so pretty. Unfortunately for her, Dean's gaze fell on the knife and the little reaching finger right then.
"Natalie!" he yelled. She froze, caught in mid-movement. Her eyes snapped up to his face, but the rest of her remained still- one tiny finger extended towards the demon knife. She looked exactly like a stereotypical kid-caught-with-their-hand-in-the cookie-jar; except it was a knife to kill demons instead of a batch of chocolate chip.
"What did I say about this stuff? Don't touch anything!" Dean scolded loudly. Natalie looked down at the knife for a moment, but still didn't move.
"But it don't got a tri- tri..."
"Trigger?"
"Trigger. It don't hurt like a gun."
"Knives are different. They are sharp and can cut. Don't. Touch. It."
"But..."
"No Buts! Don't touch it!"
Natalie's face puckered up like she had been sucking on a lemon. She looked Dean square in the face. Dean could see the anger and resolve building behind her eyes. Her stubbornness was currently taking the wheel, and it was taking no prisoners. He wasn't going to let her win this one, though. She had to learn to do what he said, when he said it. His own stubbornness reared its head, firming his resolve.
"Last warning, little girl. You better do what I tell you, or you're gonna get it," Dean said in a stern voice.
Natalie's eyes narrowed.
Dean's eyes narrowed.
Slowly, and very deliberately, she reached the one finger out and put it on the hilt of the knife. One lightning-quick second later, Dean grabbed her offending hand by the wrist, and gave it a slap. He obviously didn't use all of his strength, but the smack was hard enough that it stung. She gasped, her little mouth dropping open, her eyes going wide. She seemed speechless as she stared at her father, still holding her tight by the wrist.
Dean leaned down, staring right into her face. "I told you not to touch it, and you were bad. This is why you do what I tell you to, got it?" He released her wrist, and she sat back, still stunned. She examined her hand. There was a tiny pink spot on the back where he had smacked her. She didn't like that at all. She also didn't like that Daddy had said she had been bad. She didn't like being bad, but she wanted to touch the knife more than anything. The warring feelings of frustration, sadness, shock, and daring rolling around in her three year old brain finally boiled down to two- she was mad. Mad that she got in trouble, and mad that she had been bad. And as a result, she wanted sympathy. Her eyes darted back up to Dean. She stuck her lower lip out, but before she could do any more, he spoke.
"Don't even try it, Natalie," he said sternly. "You deserved that, and you know it." Her face puckered once more in anger. She didn't really have any hope that Dean would give her sympathy, especially when she had just gotten in trouble. She was only three, but had a very distinct sense of right and wrong. And both she and Dean knew that she knew she had been bad. So she was in the wrong here. Big deal. Dean wasn't the only adult in the room.
Dean watched as Natalie's eyes darted over to Sam, who had been watching the entire exchange. She slid off the bed once she saw him looking at her. She walked over to him without a word, and held up her arms towards him, just like she used to do as a baby when she wanted to be held. Sam quickly looked from her to Dean. Dean was shooting Sam his own bitch face. Sam knew that Dean didn't like it when he coddled Natalie after she had just been punished. But just then, Natalie unleashed her own secret weapons. She let out the hint of a whimper, combined with the protruding lower lip. And Sam was gone.
He reached out and picked her up under her arms. The second his hands touched her, her face crumpled, and she began wailing. "Hey, hey, it's okay, it's alright," Sam said, pulling her into his arms. She knotted her small hands into the front of his flannel shirt, and buried her face in his chest, still giving off loud, theatrical sobs. Dean rolled his eyes.
"Oh, for god's sake, Sam," he spat, annoyed.
"What? She's upset, Dean. Since when is it a crime to comfort a crying three year old?" Sam retorted, wrapping his arms even tighter around her.
Dean shook his head. "You know she's playing you, right?"
"What?"
"Playing you, Sammy. Like a violin."
"Stop being ridiculous."
"I'm being ridiculous?!" Dean snorted, rolling his head back, looking at the ceiling. He couldn't believe the so-called Smarty Pants was getting worked over by a toddler. "I'm willing to bet you five hundred dollars there's not a tear on that face." Upon hearing that, Natalie pressed her face even harder into Sam's chest. Sam responded by rubbing her back in small circles, trying to soothe her.
"Maybe you smacked her harder than you thought," he said, a touch of bitterness in his voice.
Dean sat upright, glaring at his brother. "Hey. That's crossing a line. I would NEVER do that. Yeah, it hurt a bit- it's supposed to hurt. But she can't even feel it anymore. I'd never hit her like that, never," he said emphatically, his hackles raising. Sam just looked away, down at Natalie. He gingerly pulled her hand away from his shirt to inspect it. There was no mark on it, not even the pink spot that had been there a moment before. Realizing that Dean was probably right, he reached down to pull Natalie away from him, but she wasn't done getting what she wanted yet. Her cries, which had recently been reduced to a couple sniffles, started up again, full force. He pulled her right back into him, cuddling her and rocking her. His guilty eyes avoided his brother's face.
Dean was just shaking his head slowly. "Like a violin," he muttered. Sam rolled his eyes.
"Hey- she's still upset, so I'm going to comfort her. There is nothing wrong with that," he said, trying to defend himself. Dean started putting the weapons back into the duffel. To leave the bag of shiny things in the same room as Natalie? Now that was cruel. He wanted to get them out of sight, so when she was done with her little tantrum, she would go back to being the perfect hyper angel. He just continued to shake his head at Sam's caving.
"This is going to come back and bite you in the ass, buddy boy."
"And how's that?"
"If she thinks she can get sympathy from you, running to you every time she gets in trouble, she's never going to listen to a damn thing you say."
"You're full of it."
"Just wait and see," Dean said. He zipped the bag closed, stood up, and walked over towards the end table where his keys were. He stopped at the door, and then turned back to Sam, an ironic grin on his face.
"Hey," he said. Sam looked up at him, exasperated.
"She's gonna stop 'crying' the second I walk out. Just watch," Dean mouthed, not wanting Natalie to hear. He chuckled, and as he walked out the door, Sam heard him mutter, "like a freaking violin" again. As if a switch had been flipped, the second the door closed behind him, Natalie popped up in Sam's lap, all wails and cries silenced. Sam froze for a second, surprised. Natalie held up her "injured" hand to Sam, once again, poking her lower lip out. He quickly grabbed it, knowing what she wanted. He gave it a small kiss. She beamed her angelic smile at him.
"Candy?" she asked innocently. Sam's face fell. Dammit. She remembered. He had a small stash of chocolates in his bag that he kept just for her, hidden from Dean. Whenever she fell or got hurt, all it took was one chocolate, and it was like it never happened. He quickly looked at the door, analyzing how much time he had before Dean walked back in. He leaned away from Natalie, thrust his hand into his duffle, and came up with one Hershey's kiss. He dropped it into her hands.
"Don't tell your dad about this," he cautioned. Natalie quickly opened it and popped it into her mouth, snuggling back into Sam's arms. So her daddy had a whole stash of weapons that she couldn't play with just yet. Fine by her. She was perfectly content with her own secret weapon- Uncle Sam.
