Hey Beautiful SPN Family! I wanted to publish before...I go on vacation! It's my first vacation in two years- I'm so excited. While I'm gone, I will be plowing (hopefully) through the list of requests! To those who made requests- thank you for being patient. They're all on the way!

Special thanks to all of you who read and review. I really can't tell you guys how much it means to me. I wish I could take you all on vacation with me. And major shout out to my girl, Jenmm31! An all out rockstar, friend, and insanely talented writer! I can't do this without her, and I mean that.

I hope you're ready for Natalie to cause a little chaos...with Dean along for the ride. :) Read, review, and enjoy!

A/N- in this story, Natalie is 10. Please see profile page for disclaimer.

A cloud...a horse...a cloud riding a horse...a horse that looked like a cloud...Natalie rubbed her fists into her eyes. She had been staring at the patterns in the popcorn textured ceiling of their motel room for too long.

She sat up, only to be disappointed by the exact same view she had seen five minutes ago. The September sun was shining through the dirty windows, making splotchy patterns on the faded carpeting. She sat watching the streaky blocks of light, willing them to change, to move, to freaking do something. When they failed to entertain her, she shifted her gaze again. It landed on Dean, sprawled out on the threadbare brown couch awkwardly placed in the middle of the room. His foot was propped up on a stack of pillows. She rolled herself off the bed, and trotted over to him. He was lying with his left arm over his face. She stood for a minute, wanting to see if he would acknowledge her. After counting silently to one hundred, she poked him in the forearm that was covering his eyes.

"What?" he mumbled.

"Are you sleeping?"

"Yes."

"How's the ankle?"

"It's fine."

"Really? Or are you just saying that?"

He removed his arm from his face, and gave her a look that said why are you still talking? "It's just a stupid ankle. I'm fine."

Natalie rolled her eyes at his words. Of course he would be brushing off his injury. He and Sam had been on a hunt last night. They had been chasing down a spirit that had been trapped in a section of woods. While on the run from being used as bait, Dean had lost his footing on the slick fallen leaves that were littering the forest floor. He had gone down in a heap with the spirit right on top of him. Thank God that at that moment, Sam set fire to the corpse, causing the spirit to burn away with a wail. However, the damage to Dean's ankle had not dissipated so easily. It was a pretty nasty sprain- nasty enough that Sam wanted to go to the ER to get X-Rays, while Dean just wanted to go to the liquor store and get whiskey. Dean, as usual, won.

Today, however, Sam had won the fight. Dean was unable to walk on his ankle today, even with a brace and ace bandage. He tried to wave it off, saying he didn't need his right ankle to be in tip-top shape to drive. He then tried to walk to the bathroom to prove his point, and had practically fallen again. Sam had all but pushed him onto the sofa, ordering him to stay down, which he only did with much cursing and complaining. Sam declared that they were taking an extra day before heading back to Bobby's, so Dean's ankle could heal up a bit. Sam headed to the Laundromat since this motel didn't have one. Natalie had begged to come along, to save her from the sheer boredom of being trapped in this motel room for another day, but Sam had put a lid on that one. Someone needed to make sure Dean actually stayed down, and honestly, between him and Natalie, the kid had the advantage on making Dean do something he didn't want to do.

"Do you want some more pain pills?" Natalie asked innocently. It was Dean's turn to roll his eyes.

"I don't need any stupid pills, alright, kid? I'm tough. Tough guys don't take pain pills." As a response to that, Natalie reached out one finger towards his ankle like she was going to poke it. But Dean's voice stopped her. "Do that and you'll need pain pills."

"There's nothing wrong with medicine, Dad. Especially when you're hurt."

"Thank you, Dr. Oz. Go away," he said, but with a joking tone.

"Sorry. Bugging you is my only form of entertainment right now." The room, for whatever reason, had no TV. It had been torture for Natalie while Dean and Sam had been off on the hunt. Dean had declared she was still too young to have her own cell phone, and her laptop was only to be used for homework and case research. She had taken to thumbing through the multiple books that the boys had on lore to pass the time. Usually, that did the trick to alleviate her boredom. But she was feeling restless today. She wanted something- anything- to happen, to relieve these doldrums that she was feeling. As if reading her mind, Dean spoke her issue out loud.

"Bored, are you?"

"Observant, you are."

"Gonna get smacked, the smart aleck is."

With a groan, she laid out full length on the floor beside the couch. "There is nothing to DOOOOOOOOOO," she whined.

"Yeah, I know. It's killing me too," Dean grumbled. Natalie sat up on her elbows, and looked at Dean curiously.

"What did you and Uncle Sam used to do when you were stuck in a motel room, and Grandpa was on a hunt?" she asked. Dean had been looking at her, but now he raised his eyes to the ceiling, trying to remember.

"Sam was always doing homework. Or studying. Or some stupid crap like that." He suddenly sat up, looking his daughter straight in the eye. "Did you finish your homework yet?"

"Yeah, about twenty minutes after Uncle Sam left. It was super easy."

"I'm going to have to tell him to start giving you harder crap. You're too smart, kiddo."

Natalie blushed and looked away. "Naw, he's just giving me the easy stuff." Dean snorted a laugh- just like her to deflect her own talents. She was so damn smart, sometimes he wasn't sure the DNA test had been right, and she was actually his.

"Did you finish that lore book I told you to read?"

"Two days ago."

"The whole damn thing?"

"Yup."

"Alright then, we'll see. Define a wendigo."

"Supernatural cannibal."

"Origin?"

"Cree Indian. Name means 'evil that devours'."

"How are they created?"

"Each one was once a human who succumbed to cannibalism. You eat enough human flesh, you become a wendigo."

"Abilities?"

"Speed, strength, immortality."

"How do you kill it?"

"Fire. It can be kept at bay with a protective circle of Anasazi symbols, and it can be hurt by silver arrows."

Dean raised his eyebrows- she was dead on. Even he had forgotten about the silver arrows. They went on like that for a while, Dean throwing any creature he could remember at her, and her answering all his questions. She only missed about 3 questions in the series, which, after reviewing them and her coming up with the right answer, was good enough for Dean. When he couldn't think of any other monsters to test her on, he looked at the clock. He made a dissatisfied sound in his throat.

"Well, that ate up about half an hour." He threw his arm back over his face. Natalie jumped up and started pacing around the room.

"There's got to be something to do!" she said desperately. Her eyes landed on her school books. "Wanna quiz me on spelling?"

"I'd rather let you shoot a loaded gun in this room blindfolded while I try to dodge the bullets." He didn't even need to move his arm to know that she had perked up excitedly. He just pointed to her with his other hand. "No."

"Can we go outside and do target practice?" she asked.

"No can do."

"Why not?"

"People don't take too kindly to a ten year old shooting a gun in a parking lot."

Natalie kept pacing around the room. She was going to come up with something. After another lap around, her eyes landed on a piece of crappy motel art. She walked over and began carefully examining it. Dean sat up from the couch, watching her.

"What are you doing?" he finally asked. She didn't answer. She walked over to the duffle bag where they kept the weapons, and started digging through it.

"You find an evil spirit trapped in the frame or something?" he teased. Again, he got no response. She found what she was looking for. Dean was surprised- she had a screwdriver in her hand. She drug a chair from the table and placed it right underneath the picture.

"Hey, hey, hey- what are you doing?" Dean said, no longer joking. Natalie turned her head, like she was just noticing that he was talking to her.

"Don't worry, they'll never notice," she said, and started unscrewing the picture from the wall, where it had been tacked in all four corners. Dean sat up even farther.

"Natalie, leave that alone," he said sternly. She stopped immediately, but turned to him with her puppy dog eyes. Damn Sam for teaching her that, Dean thought.

"Dad, I promise- no one will ever even notice I took it down!"

"And how exactly do you know that? Do I even want to know?"

She froze for a minute, then recovered enough to answer, "Probably not." Dean just rolled his eyes.

"Proceed," he said, flopping back down on the couch. After all, he was bored nearly to tears himself. He watched at the kid unscrewed the picture frame from the wall, and carefully lowered the picture down. She placed it, face down, on the worn out carpet. She carefully pried the small metal tabs off the back of the picture, and she lifted out the cardboard backing. She stood up and placed it flat on the table, then came back for the picture frame. She carefully laid it with the picture and glass still in it by the wall where it was out of her way. She ran back to the table, and seized a pen from her backpack. She began scribbling on the cardboard. When she was done, she propped up the cardboard between the floor and the back wall, directly across from Dean. She raced back to the weapons bag, pulling out a bundle of cloth that was tied with a piece of twine. Dean's eyebrows raised- he knew what was in that bundle. Natalie skipped back to him, sat down on the floor, and untied the bundle, spreading it out of the ground between them. The silver throwing knives gleamed in the midafternoon light. Dean looked quizzically at his daughter. She smugly pointed to the cardboard. Dean sat up and squinted. When he finally made out the drawing, he laughed out loud. It was a balding man making a horrible face, wearing a suit and tie. Above the figure, she had scrawled "Crowley". Natalie picked up a silver knife, and handed it to Dean.

"Ten points if you get his head, twenty if you get it in his heart, and fifty if you get him in the crotch." She sat back, very pleased with herself. Dean looked at her, impressed.

"And you can hide the fact that the back of the picture will be completely destroyed if we do this?" he questioned, turning the knife over in his hands.

"All we have to do is get another piece of cardboard from the dumpster. They'll never know the difference," she assured him.

"Works for me," Dean said. He carefully took aim, and threw. He nailed Crowley's likeness in the throat. Natalie clapped delightedly.

"Yes! Nice shot!" she said, giggling. "Okay, so you got in between his head and his heart, so that's fifteen points. My turn!" She seized a knife, aimed, and sent it flying through the air. It thudded into the picture just to the left of Crowley's hip.

"Ah. I see you're aiming for his crotch."

"Always."

"That's my girl."

They continued throwing the knives, taking turns. Natalie would pull ahead for a moment, then Dean would take the lead back. Occasionally he would stop and correct her aim, showing her how to hold the hilt a little differently, or raising her elbow to get better accuracy. She would do it perfectly then, with Dean grinning on her like the Cheshire Cat. When the picture cardboard was mutilated beyond all recognition, they finally conceded the game.

"I totally owned your ass on that, kiddo," Dean said smugly.

"Whatever, old man."

"What'd you just call me?!"

"OLD. O.L.D.," she said teasingly, spelling it out.

"I can still blister your butt, missy," he threatened with a smirk. She walked over to the other side of the room.

"Fine. Walk over here and do it," she said, throwing that same smirk right back at him. Dean tried to keep the stern bitch face on, but he had to give it to her. She owned him like a boss on that one.

"Yeah, yeah. So now what do we do?" Just then, his cell rang. He snatched it up. "Hey Bobby, what's up?" Dean said into the phone. Natalie began quietly gathering the knives and picking up the cardboard, trying not to disrupt Dean on the phone. A few minutes later, he hung up.

"Pops okay? Did he find us a new case?" Natalie asked before the cell could even hit the coffee table.

"He's fine, just checking in on us. I should have let you talk to him. Sorry, squirt."

"It's okay."

"Wanna call him back?"

"No, he'd just be annoyed."

And that gave Dean a brilliant idea. "So let's annoy him." He grabbed his cell, dropped it into his pocket, and hopped on his good foot over to the end table between the beds in the room. There was an old white push button phone on it. Dean gestured for Natalie to come over to him. She did, and plopped next to him on the bed. Dean pulled his phone out of his pocket, and started scrolling through his contacts. Natalie craned her neck to watch him, and was surprised when he went past Bobby's.

"I thought you said we were going to annoy Pops?"

"We have to give it a minute, otherwise he'll know it's us."

"He'll know what's us?"

"Patience, my padawan." Dean kept flicking through his contacts list, looking for a good victim. He finally found one. He chuckled to himself, pulled up the number, and picked up the white phone. Natalie couldn't help herself.

"What are you doing?" she pressed Dean again. He just looked at her, held up one finger to his lips, and dialed the white phone. Natalie looked at the number on her dad's cell phone. It was Tony, a fellow hunter they had met when she was about eight. She sat back, wondering what Dean was up to. He held the phone a little ways from his ear, so she could hear the ringing on the line. It suddenly picked up, and she heard Tony faintly through the receiver.

"Hello?"

Dean pinched his nose, and said in a voice that didn't quite sound like his, "Yes, hello, is John there?"

"No, no John here."

"How do you go to the bathroom then?" Dean asked in the nasally voice. Natalie slapped her hands over her mouth to keep from laughing out loud. On the other end of the line, she could hear Tony grumble.

"Son of a..." Dean slammed the phone down before Tony could finish the sentence. Natalie collapsed back on the bed in a flurry of giggles. Dean leaned over and grinned smugly at her.

"And that is what is known as a prank phone call," he said proudly. She sat up, still occasionally hiccuping giggles.

"That is hilarious. So what do you say? Is John there, and when they say no, you ask how they go to the bathroom then?" She could barely get the words out. Bathroom humor was still hysterical to the ten year old. Also to her forty something year old father.

"There's other stuff you can say."

"Like what?"

Dean told her, then handed her his phone to select the next victim. She scrolled through his contacts, her eyes landing on an unfamiliar name. "Who's Kate?" she asked questioningly. Dean shook his head and smiled.

"This nurse I met a long time ago. Stitched up a gash in my head, barely left a mark. One of the coolest chicks on the planet. She's off limits. Pick another name."

Natalie continued to scroll. She stopped at another unfamiliar name. "Jasmine?" she asked.

Dean snatched the phone away from her like it was a bomb. "Um...she...never mind," he mumbled. He continued scrolling, ignoring the bitch face he was getting from his daughter.

"Dad. Ew."

"Shut it. How about this one?" He handed her the phone back. The highlighted name was Pete- he was a weapons dealer back in Sioux Falls. Dean dialed the number, and handed the receiver to Natalie. She took it, a bit nervous, not wanting to mess up. After about six rings, she was starting to get really anxious, when Pete finally picked up.

"Pete's Place," he said in his flat, I've-answered-the-phone-too-much voice.

Natalie tried to drop her voice into a lower register to make herself sound older. "Hello. I'm with Kenmore appliances, and we're doing a survey. May I ask you a few questions?"

On the other end of the line, Pete heaved a sigh. "Sure."

"Is your refrigerator running?"

"Yes."

"You'd better go catch it then!"

CLICK.

Both Natalie and Dean laughed at that one. They continued calling person after person, until finally Natalie landed on Castiel's number. She bounced up and down on the bed.

"Oh, please, let's call Cas!"

Dean looked at her in disbelief. "Are you kidding? He's not going to give you the typical answers. You ask if his refrigerator is running, and he's going to put the phone down to go check. And then forget that he was on the phone at all."

Natalie wrinkled her nose, but she knew Dean was right. She recovered quickly, bouncing back up on the bed. "Can we call Bobby then? I've got a really good idea for one for him. It'll totally freak him out."

Dean handed her his phone with an approving grin. "Have at it," he said, pleased that she was so entertained. She scrambled over his lap to the phone, dialing Bobby's number quickly. She then plopped herself back down on his other side, and waited for Bobby to pick up. He finally did with his usual gruff "Hello?"

To Dean's surprise, Natalie didn't say anything- she just began breathing shallowly into the phone. He looked at her and opened his mouth, but then she shot him the same look he had given her earlier, and held a finger up to her lips. Dean could hear Bobby say "Who is this?" through the receiver. In a low, hissing, creepy as hell voice, Natalie answered.

"I'm so cold," she whispered into the phone.

"Who the hell is this?!" Bobby roared, and Natalie slammed the receiver onto the phone. Dean threw his head back and howled with laughter.

"And the student becomes the master!" he said, almost choking on his hilarity. Natalie jumped off the bed, and began making exaggerated, theatrical bows.

"Bravo," he said, applauding. She just giggled in response.

"So I say we call him completely randomly for like the next two days, just to really freak him out. What do you think?" she asked.

Dean pointed at her. "Yahtzee. And when we get back to the house, keep your trap shut about it, or he'll kick both of our asses. Got it?" Natalie nodded, then jumped back on the bed beside Dean. They both sighed in tandem, the realization that they were once again without entertainment hitting them at the same time. Natalie's eyes wandered around the room. They stopped at the mini kitchen. She turned to Dean.

"Have you even wondered what would happen if we microwaved a ball point pen?"

And the next boredom relieving game began.

After the success of making a very hot pen whose ink had made paper smell like it was burning, the game was on to find whatever else may create an interesting reaction when being microwaved. They did ice cubes, taking bets on how long it would be before they actually melted. After both of them changing out of their wet shirts after that particular experiment, they tried playing with the items the motel had so thoughtfully provided for the bathroom. The soap gave off the most noxious smell. Natalie had run around the room opening every window and door to the outside while Dean gagged. It didn't keep them from going right on to their next experiment, though. Natalie was a big fan of the shampoo- it had bubbled over and out of the small plastic container like the slime from Ghostbusters 2, which she found absolutely hilarious. Doubly so when the plastic container wilted from the heat. They tried various food items that they had lying around as well, all with varying degrees of entertainment. When they were running low on test items, Natalie started searching through the piles on the table where she had been doing her school work. Her eyes landed on a CD that Sam had been using. It was a Rosetta Stone program for Latin. She hated working on her Latin. She knew every exorcism they had by heart anyways- why did she have to read it? It was a complete waste of time, in her opinion. She raced back to Dean, and held the CD out.

"What do you think? Can we fry this?" she asked. Being the responsible, always concerned about their safety parent that Dean was, he shrugged and answered.

"Sure. Go for it."

Natalie popped it into the microwave, and punched in two minutes. She stood back and watched, wanting to see what would happen. It didn't do anything for a good ten seconds. Natalie turned to Dean and said, "This is boring," just in time for Dean to sit up and exclaim loudly. She turned back around. Little sparks of electricity like lightening were jumping all over the CD. Suddenly, the sparks shot off into the inner walls of the microwave, letting out a large bang. Natalie jumped back as the microwave started to emit black smoke. Dean jumped up from his place on the couch and hopped as fast as he could towards the disaster. He shoved Natalie behind him, and grabbed for the fire extinguisher. He quickly pulled the pin and sent a white smoky blast towards the appliance. The microwave short circuited with a pop. Dean kept blasting the extinguisher until he was sure there was no smoke left. Both he and Natalie just stared at it blankly, neither one of them sure what to do.

"WHAT THE HELL?!" came a loud roar from behind them. Dean turned on his good foot so fast, he lost his balance and went tumbling to the floor. Natalie made a grab for him, but he was a goner. She turned her head to see a furious Sam standing in the doorway, his face slowly going from pissed-off red to I'm-going-to-kill-you purple.

"Uh oh," she mumbled to herself.

*SPN SPN SPN*

About five minutes later, she and Dean were seated, side by side, on the sofa. Sam was pacing back and forth in front of them.

"What the hell were you two thinking?" he yelled. Normally, if Sam was actually yelling, Natalie knew she was in for it. But since Dean was in trouble right along with her, this whole thing suddenly became very funny to her. Dean shared the same viewpoint. They both had been trying to hold in the snickers while they were being scolded. Sam heard them, however.

"Is this funny to you, Dean?" Sam roared.

Dean looked up, the mirth sparking in his eyes. "Yeah, a little bit," he confessed.

"Are you insane? You both could have gotten hurt, or killed! You could have burned the place down! And you've completely destroyed the Latin language CD!"

"Yeah, I'm really sorry about that one," Natalie muttered out the side of her mouth. Dean snorted a laugh, but tried to swallow it.

"What was that, young lady?" Sam said hotly, whipping around and looking right at Natalie.

"Nothing. Sir," she said, hastily tacking on the pronoun, and looking back down at her feet, petulantly. Sam just rolled his eyes and kept pacing. Not only was he dealing with a ten year old who had been given permission to misbehave like this, he was dealing with his supposedly older brother, who had no doubt instigated the entire thing.

"We're going to have to pay to replace the microwave and the picture backing," he said, hoping that at least this fact would make an impression on either one of them. Natalie's head popped back up.

"Nuh-uh! We can replace the picture backing with regular cardboard!"

"And how do you know this? Do I even want to know?"

"Probably not."

Sam threw up his hands in frustration. "Dean, don't you see? She's going to keep doing stuff like this if you keep encouraging her! And what if she tries it when we're not around?"

Dean turned to his daughter. "Don't do anything like this when we're not around. Got it?"

"Yes, sir."

Dean turned back to Sam. "Problem solved." He watched with amusement as Sam's blood pressure rose even higher. Finally, Sam stomped over to Dean's duffle bag, yanking out his wallet.

"Hey! What do you think you're doing?!" Dean yelled. Sam just pulled a wad of cash out of the wallet.

"Microwave is coming out of your wallet," he said, walking back to them. "I don't think either one of you really get how serious this is. You've destroyed someone else's property. People can go to jail for that." Natalie squirmed a bit at Sam's words- they had just been having fun, not gunning for jail time. She hadn't thought of the consequences, and she instantly felt guilty.

"You're right. Sorry, Uncle Sam," she said, drooping her head.

"Well, at least one of you has come to your senses. Natalie, for punishment, you're doing extra Latin homework for a week," he said in response. Natalie's head shot back up, the look of shock and consternation on her face. When she met Sam's very serious and angry eyes, she swallowed her retort and dropped her head again.

"Yes, sir," she said with a theatrical sigh. Sam nodded, accepting her acquiescence. He turned to Dean.

"And YOU aren't driving until that ankle is completely healed."

If it was possible, Dean would have jumped off of the couch and strangled Sam on the spot. "Absolutely not!" he roared in disbelief.

"You are so willing to put yours and Natalie's safety at risk right now with this little microwave stunt, that I'm not trusting you with mine. You're not driving. End of discussion." As if to emphasize the point, Sam grabbed the keys and dropped them into his pants pocket. He knew there was no way Dean could catch him and take them, not with his ankle in its current state.

Dean's jaw practically unhinged, it was so close to the ground. Sam had taken his keys AND his catch phrase. He finally closed his mouth, but opened it again immediately. "When I can walk again, I'm going to kill you. And then run your corpse over with MY car."

"Fine," Sam said, not appearing to care. "Both of you better rest up. We're leaving first thing in the morning. I'm going for a run. You two? Don't freaking move, or you're both in more trouble." Sam grabbed his running clothes and walked to the bathroom, slamming the door. Father and daughter collapsed back onto the sofa in tandem, giving out a frustrated sigh. After a minute however, Dean turned his head towards Natalie.

"Worth it," he said.

"Totally," she replied. They tapped fists.

*SPN SPN SPN*

The next morning, Natalie had loaded the trunk, while Sam wrestled Dean into the passenger's side. Natalie never really knew how Sam had made Dean obey, but it was clear that Dean wasn't happy about it. He sat in shotgun, grumbling like a five year old. Natalie slid into her own seat as Sam started the car.

"Buckle up," he said over his shoulder to his niece. She clicked the seat belt in place and picked up the extra homework Sam had given her. She muttered a few words under her breath.

"I don't want to hear it- you deserve that," Sam said sternly. She just continued working for the first part of the drive, when she suddenly stopped.

"Hey Dad- when we stop at the next gas station, can I borrow your phone to call Bobby? It's been a couple hours since I called."

"Absolutely you can."