Hello Beautiful SPN Family! Hope you all are well and ready for the weekend!

I must give a shout out to all of you who read, review, follow, and favorite. You guys are seriously the reason I keep writing. Thank you so much. Special thanks to my Sammy, who helped me sew this one together- Jenmm31. I am eternally grateful for her friendship. She's the best ever.

Here's part 2! I hope you all enjoy. 3 Emma

A/N- This is Part 2 of a 3 Part story. If you haven't, please go back and read the previous chapter, otherwise this ain't gonna make a lick of sense. In this story, Natalie is 6. Please see profile page for disclaimer.

"Hello, Poppet."

Natalie stood up. It was pointless to stay huddled on the ground since Crowley had flung the desk she was hiding underneath across the room. Dean and Sam were still pinned to the wall, unable to move or even speak. Natalie's eyes flicked up to her dad. He was obviously struggling as hard as he could, but there was simply no way to break the King of Hell's invisible grip. His eyes were panicky, but when he saw his six year old looking at him, he seemed to steel himself, and sent her a glance that said, "It's okay. You're going to be okay." Natalie felt bolstered by that, and lifted her large green eyes and looked Crowley directly in the face.

Crowley was surprised, but refused to let that show in his expression. This little child with the two drooping black braids was simply staring at him after watching him fling her family all over the house. She didn't even seem fazed by it. He wasn't sure if that was a good indicator or a bad one. She stood her ground, staring at him stoically. Even Crowley couldn't miss the resemblance to Dean in her gaze.

"Hello," she said simply, seemingly untouched by the situation. Crowley cocked one eyebrow at her indifferent tone.

"You're a pretty little thing, aren't you?" he cooed, as nicely as he was capable of.

"I know," she said with a smile.

Crowley jerked back in surprise. "And you clearly have your father's arrogance." He chuckled in a sinister way. "What's your name?"

"Natalie."

"Hmm...I thought you'd have something more symbolic or something, like Hope or Faith." He snorted a laugh, and looked behind him at Dean still pinned to the wall. "Or Chastity."

"Grace is my middle name."

"Ah, there it is. I knew the Winchester pretention had to be in there somewhere." He took a step towards the child. She didn't move a muscle. She just continued to stare at him impassively.

"Tell me, Natalie Grace. Do you know what your father does for a living? Or your uncle? Or even..." he gestured to Bobby. "What that thing does?"

"First off, he's not a "thing"- he's my Pops," Natalie retorted hotly. Crowley's eyes glistened briefly- he was finally getting a rise out of her. "And second, of course I know, dumbass."

At hearing a six year old call him "dumbass", Crowley got pissed. He knelt down, right in front of her, making sure he was on eye level with her so as to intimidate the little wench. "So then you should probably know that you're addressing the King of Hell, young lady."

"I'm sorry. Your Royal Dumbass."

Crowley clenched his teeth. This brat clearly needed to be taught a lesson in manners- one he was only too happy to give. "So has your 'Pops' told you how he knows me?" He looked over Natalie's shoulder, which made her turn and look at Bobby's unmoving form. "Let you in on his special deal with me?" he continued, regaining her attention.

"No."

"Well, then you should know that 'Pops' let himself be used like a puppet. MY puppet," Crowley said, using his intimidating voice. He glared at the child for a solid minute, trying to illicit any response from her. When he got none, he couldn't take it anymore. "You know, Pops is a stupid name, don't you?"

"Bite me."

Crowley got a very irritated look on his face, and swung around to look at Dean, who was just grinning silently but smugly at him as if to say Yup- that's my kid. Crowley rolled his eyes and trained his attention back on Natalie. He was still on his knees, directly in front of her. He leaned forward, trying to scare her. He didn't know why, but her calm demeanor was unnerving to him. He wanted to watch the fear creep into her big, green eyes.

"I'm getting tired of this game. Long story short- he made a deal that kept Moose and Squirrel off my back. And now, I'm going to do the same to you."

Natalie's back straightened a bit. To anyone else, it almost looked like she was just shifting her weight, but it really meant she was nervous. She refused to let that show in the rest of her body- she wouldn't give Crowley the satisfaction. "So what does this deal mean?" she asked with a lot more bravado that she felt.

Crowley's smile was dripping with evil. "You're going to trade me your soul, in exchange for me letting your family live."

"Yeah, I don't think so."

With all the strength she had, Natalie kicked him in the crotch. His snake like eyes suddenly went wide, and as the pain rendered him incapable of doing much more than giving off a strange "oomph" sound, he lost control of Sam and Dean. They both instantly slid down the wall, hitting the floor with a solid thud. They both stood upright as one, instantly at the ready for a fight.

"Dean!" Sam hollered. Dean didn't need clarification on what Sam meant. He dove straight for Natalie and in one strong, solid move, scooped her up in his arms and took off running. Sam grabbed the .45 that had dropped earlier and trained it on Crowley now, who was still curled over on the floor. Sam just prayed that Dean could get Natalie to safety before the shit really started to fly.

*SPN SPN SPN*

Dean held onto Natalie for dear life, and raced down into the basement of the house as fast as he could. He yanked open the door to Bobby's demon proof chamber, pushing down the horrible feelings of being back in here. He couldn't help but remember when they were weaning Sam off the demon's blood. The very walls still seemed to echo Sam's screaming, even though it had been seven years since that horrendous time. He couldn't dwell on that now. He had to keep Natalie safe.

In a quick move, he set her down, sinking to the ground with her, and staying down on his knees. He grabbed her face in his hands. She no longer had the cool, casual demeanor she had so eloquently displayed in front of Crowley. She looked exactly like what she was- a terrified six year old girl.

Dean pulled her face close to his, making sure she was looking directly into her eyes. "Listen to me- don't talk, just listen, okay?" he said in a rush. She nodded quickly. "I want you to stay down here. Do not leave this room for any reason whatsoever, do you understand me?"

"Yes, sir," she managed to squeak out.

"Good girl. I'm going to lock the door, but don't worry. I will come back and get you. But I need you to stay down here. Don't even think about opening this door once I shut it." He looked quickly around the room. Sure enough, all the supplies and weapons were still there, ready at a moment's notice. He jumped up, and grabbed the nearest one- a shotgun. He quickly got back down in front of Natalie. "Take this," he said, thrusting it into her hands. "You remember how to use it?" She nodded frantically. "Good. If anyone tries to come in this room, you shoot. I don't care who it is. If it's not me, you shoot, got it?"

"Yes, sir," she said with a gulp. "What's gonna be the password?"

In the midst of this chaos, Dean felt a stab of relief. Natalie was thinking about her training. He had always instructed her that if he had to leave, they would have a password for when he came back to prove that it was him. She was thinking like a Hunter.

"Zeppelin rules. Repeat it."

"Zeppelin Rules."

"Good girl. Don't leave this room. I will come back, okay? I'm always going to come back to get you. You know that, right?"

She nodded, a tiny part of the panic in her eyes receding at his words. He took his courage from that, and stood up. He was just about to the door, when he heard her small voice again.

"I know."

He allowed himself one second to pause. She was giving him their code for I love you. He turned quickly to look at her. She was standing bravely in the middle of the room, gripping a shotgun that was about the same size she was. His heart tore at the idea of leaving her here, alone and scared. But he had to help Sam and get rid of Crowley. He trained his deep green eyes right on hers.

"I know," he said in a whisper. She gave him a half smile.

He bolted through the door, and slammed it shut, jerking the iron latch into place. He pounded back up the stairs, pushing out the gut wrenching feelings of leaving his daughter down there out of his mind. He had to focus. Sam needed him. Natalie was fine. He was doing what was best for her. He had to get to Sam. The words kept tumbling through his head with every heavy tread of his boots. He bolted back into the living room, where Sam still had his gun trained on Crowley, who had just managed to get up off the floor. Dean followed Sam's lead and pulled his .45.

"That little bitch," he spat out, still obviously in a great deal of pain.

"Watch it," Dean growled. "That's my daughter you're talking about."

"I can see the resemblance," Crowley said through gritted teeth. He stood up completely, steeling himself. His eyes burned with hatred. "Let me guess," he began sarcastically. "You've got her somewhere I'm never going to be able to get to her. And I'll have to get through you two first."

"Yeah, that's about the size of it," Dean said evenly. Every fiber of his being was focusing on Crowley, watching every move. Any indication that he would get the jump on the two of them, and Dean was ready to open fire. "You have one choice here, Crowley. Get the hell out and never come back."

"And if I don't like that option?"

"Then I'll fill you so full of bullets your minions will be able to use you to strain pasta."

"Well, well. Haven't we upped our similes."

"Get out of here, Crowley, we're not gonna tell you again," Sam barked at him, almost to his own breaking point. Crowley just turned a wicked smile on him.

"See Moose, the thing is- I don't want to." He snapped his fingers. Suddenly, a black mist began pouring into the windows and doors. It filled the room for a moment, then immediately began separating into sections. To Sam and Dean's horror, each section of smoke began materializing into people. People with solid black eyes. Before they knew it, they were surrounded by six demons.

"I intend to get what I came for," Crowley said, the wicked smile spreading across his face.

*SPN SPN SPN*

In the panic room, Natalie stood, shaking in her tiny boots. Dean had just closed and locked the door. She had heard his boots thundering up the stairs, and she knew she was all alone down here. She found herself taking very shallow, short breaths. Once she realized that, her training kicked in, almost on autopilot. She steeled made herself take three deep, slow breaths. That calmed her down enough to start to think. She put the shotgun down carefully, and in the dim light from the open grid above her, groped for the lamp that she knew was by the bed. She stumbled a few times, mostly from her own shaking, but eventually found it. She switched it on, and the room was bathed in warm, yellow light. That helped to clear more of the panicky feeling away.

She looked around her, taking in her surroundings. She had been here once before, with Dean and Sam. They had showed her this room and explained all about it, telling her that if she was ever in danger here at Bobby's and they weren't around, that she was to come down here at once. She had wanted to explore every inch of the room, but Sam and Dean didn't like it down here, so they hadn't let her. She had, unbeknownst to them, been down here a couple times when they had been on the road, and Bobby was asleep. She had thought it was cool- like her own secret fort. But right now, it felt like a dungeon. It was actually a fort, not just an imaginary escape. And this time, the monsters were real.

Natalie thought about Crowley. His eyes weren't black, or yellow, or red. He didn't have fangs, or fur. But he could manipulate people with his mind. Was he a psychic, like Uncle Sam had been? Or like that Missouri lady Dean had told her about? Natalie couldn't remember if Missouri had been able to move things with her abilities, but this Crowley sure could. Okay, so he may have been a regular human, or a demon that just hadn't showed his black eyes. He had called himself the King of Hell. Did that mean he was Lucifer? Wasn't Lucifer trapped in his cage? She tried to think logically through all her options, when suddenly, she heard gun fire from above.

The cracking, reverberating noise nearly made her jump out of her skin. She whipped around, in search of the shot gun. It was still on the ground where she had left it. Over the frightening sounds of bullets firing, she ran towards it, and picked it up. She checked to see if it was loaded. The weapon was just almost too big for her, and between her jumps from the gun shots being fired overhead and her own shaking, she was having a hard time checking to see if it was loaded. This was the first time that she had been on her own in a situation like this- she had seen monsters from afar, but Sam or Dean had always been with her. The terror started growing larger and heavier in her mind. What if she couldn't get the gun loaded, and something came for her that wasn't Dean? What if they needed her upstairs? What if...

She suddenly stopped, and yanked herself upright. She stomped her tiny foot on the ground. "Get your head out of your ass, Winchester!" she said out loud. Her small but pissed off voice echoed through the chamber. The sound gave her courage. She could do this. She shook out her hands, trying to release all the tension, and grabbed the shotgun again. She was pleased to see that her nerves were obeying her, and her hands had stopped shaking. She quickly checked the rounds in the shotgun. Sure enough, they were rock salt bullets. She nodded grimly, satisfied. She snapped the shot gun back into place, and took it towards the bed with her. She laid it down quickly, and her eyes began scanning the shelves that were up against the wall next to the bed. She found the container of salt, but it was too high for her to reach. She ran to the other end of the room, and drug a chair from the table back with her. She climbed onto the chair, stretching up on her tiptoes, and was just able to grab the salt. She knew that the whole room was made of iron, but she also knew what Dean would say if he came back and saw that she hadn't salted the door. She was halfway towards the door when the panic stopped her again. WHEN. WHEN Dean came back. She repeated that out loud quietly to herself five times, and then willed her feet towards the door again.

She poured a thick line of salt at the base of the door. The only window in the entire room was the overhead vent, and it looked directly onto the devil's trap in the center of the room. She drew a salt perimeter around the devil's trap too- just in case. She knew it was always better to be safe than sorry. She realized with a start that the gun shots overhead had stopped. She didn't know if that was a good thing or a bad thing. She raced over to the bed, grabbed the shotgun, and hauled it back to the center of the devil's trap. She sat right in the middle of the circle, cross legged, with the shotgun across her lap. Now there was nothing to do but wait.

She sat perfectly still for about two minutes. There was still plenty of scuffle overhead, and a mass of voices, but she couldn't make out any of the words. Every now and then she could hear Dean's yell or Sam's, and she knew they were still okay. But the sounds never lasted long, and that left her wondering if their voices had been cut off. She would push that terrifying thought back down, and strain to hear them again, only to have the entire cycle repeat. A new sound came- crashing furniture. She thought of Bobby, unconscious on the floor of the room. She prayed to Cas that somehow Sam or Dean had been able to get Bobby out of the line of fire, but she also knew there was a distinct possibility they had not been able to. What was she going to do if her Pops wasn't there anymore? The sudden realization that she could lose one, or even all, of her family tonight hit her like a freight train. She gasped, and was unable to keep the hot tears from spilling down her face. She shook her head, trying to stifle the thoughts and emotions like Dean had been teaching her to. She tried to focus on the moment- they were still fighting, and they would be okay. They had to be okay. Everything was going to be okay. She banished the thoughts by swiping the back of her hands on her cheeks, batting the tears away.

She sat, willing herself to keep still. It was difficult with all the adrenaline and terror rushing through her system, but she was a Winchester. And Winchesters were stubborn. She allowed no part of her exterior to break rank as she tried to pull her mind in check. Her thoughts kept pulling her in the direction of "What If". She was exhausted already, trying to pull them out of that never ending cacophony of what could have gone wrong. Even though she wasn't moving, the mental strain was wearing her out. Every time she heard the sound of furniture scraping across the floor, or glass breaking, or a human...or non-human...voice grunting in pain, she was immediately thrown back to the starting line. She ground her teeth together, getting angry at herself for feeling so emotional. She thought of Dean. She had to be brave for him.

She thought what Dean would want her to do right now. He would want her to be ready, be calm, and be alert. How was she supposed to do that? She remembered how Dean's face was perfectly blank when she was hiding under the desk with Crowley in the room. She suddenly became aware of her facial muscles. Her lips were tightly pressed together, her forehead was so furrowed her eyebrows felt like they were touching, and her jaw was locked down. One by one, she took charge of each muscle, willing it to relax back into a normal face, just like Dean did. It took forever, but once she started releasing the muscles from their tense grip, the other ones wanted to follow suit. A couple times, overhead crashes made them tense right back up, but she was steering this ship, and she made them relax again at once.

Okay- she was as close to calm as she was going to get. So what else would he want her to do? Be alert. Her eyes quickly scanned the room again. The door was securely locked, she had drawn all the salt lines, and was sitting in the middle of the devil's trap. She triple checked the shot gun one more time. She was ready. She was as ready as she could possibly be. The minutes ticked by in agony, as the sounds overheard got quieter and quieter. Suddenly, she was aware that there weren't any sounds anymore.

At that exact moment, she heard a thump on the stairs in the basement. She sprang up, her shotgun pointed at the door. It was go time.

*SPN SPN SPN*

Dean wiped his bloody mouth on the back of his hand. Other than a busted lip and some bruised ribs, he was pretty okay. He looked over to find Sam performing the same assessment. His worried gaze scanned his brother, but Sam was alright too, it seemed. In confirmation, Sam locked eyes with Dean and nodded once. Dean inhaled, and looked over at the figure hovering over Bobby.

"Cas, thank God you showed up," Dean said in his low voice, still trying to catch his breath. "We were completely outnumbered, and with Bobby down-"

"I am glad I was here as well," Castiel said, standing up, still looking at Bobby. "Crowley wasn't about to let you two win unless I intervened."

"How did you know we needed you?" Sam asked, questioningly.

Cas shook his head. "I just had a strong, sudden urge to be here. It was muffled, but I could feel that you needed me." Dean and Sam exchanged a quick look- neither of them were going to question it. Dean looked quickly at Bobby, then back at Sam. Sam could see the torn look on Dean's face- he wanted to make sure Bobby was okay, but Natalie was still locked downstairs in the panic room. Sam gestured to the basement steps with his head.

"Go get her. I'll make sure Bobby's okay," Sam said, low. Dean just nodded once, and with a final look at Bobby, he took off for the basement steps. He slowly walked down the stairs, keeping his eyes open. He knew that Natalie had understood that she was to stay in the panic room, but she was still a scared six year old. She may have opened the door when she heard the fighting stop. He scanned the basement. He didn't see any movement, which relieved him. She had stayed in the room, like she was told to. He knew that she was a good kid who would do what she was told, but they had just been attacked by demons in their house- so all bets were off. His heart went out towards her- she was probably huddled in a ball underneath the bed, just waiting for him to come get her. He reached the solid iron door, and turned the latch, throwing it open.

What he saw surprised the living hell out of him. Natalie stood, her face perfectly impassive, in the middle of the devil's trap. The gigantic shotgun in her small hands was aimed directly at his heart, and her finger was on the trigger. She had tilted her head, and was looking right down the barrel at him- just like he had taught her to do. At once, she looked like she was twenty-six instead of six. Dean immediately threw up his hands in a gesture of surrender.

"Whoa, whoa, Natalie- easy. The password is Zeppelin rules."

Natalie didn't twitch a muscle, but her eyes narrowed slightly. "Say it again," she commanded, her six year old voice full of authority. Dean nodded slowly, showing her he understood.

"Zeppelin Rules," he said slowly, enunciating clearly. And then he saw it. He saw the calm mask begin to fall, the hands begin to tremble. Her lips parted slightly, and she took a shaky breath in.

"Daddy?" she said in a small voice. In a heartbeat, Dean rushed inside the room. She put the shotgun on the ground next to her just in time for Dean to swoop her up in his arms. She threw her arms around his neck, burying her face into his shoulder. As much as she tried, she simply couldn't keep the tears from falling again. Dean held her as tightly as he could. If it hurt her, she didn't complain. She just sobbed and held on to him.

"Shhh, shhhh, it's okay, Baby Girl," he said, whispering into her ear, trying to comfort her. "I'm right here, you're okay." She cried harder, burrowing her face into him. He reached up and put one hand on the back of her head, keeping her as close to him as he could. "I'm right here. You're safe. I'm not going anywhere."

To Be Continued...