Happy Sunday, you beautiful SPN Family you!
Thank you sooooooooo much for all the reads, reviews, follows. You guys are absolutely incredible. Please know that I try to respond to each and every review. If you're a guest, I can't private message you, but I'll try to answer requests here, lol.
I had a request for the most trouble Natalie's ever gotten into. I've already actually written those chapters- check out Bury the Sunlight and then my other story, Sweet Child of Mine (my first venture into Natalie world, ha ha). BUT I really don't let her cause that much mischief- so I'm going to amend that slightly (insert evil laugh). I'll play around with Natalie getting into trouble when I start some new stuff, I promise! Right now, I'm working on some new case stories- I plan to make one of the cases the next chapter.
This chapter, however, is for happygoddess2003. She's been a great support, and a huge fan of the Sam/Natalie relationship. She's helped me to think about their bond and pay more attention to it. And when I did, this story wrote itself. Thank you happygoddess2003!
The biggest thank you to my dear friend Jenmm31. For everyone who's made me think in depth about Natalie's relationships with all our favorite people, she's been the one to actually help me develop it. I owe her the world :)
Love you people! Go love each other!
A/N- in this story, Natalie is 9. Please see profile page for disclaimer.
The terrific crash that came from the living room shook the entire house. Dean had been sitting at the kitchen table, cleaning the barrel of his favorite silver .45. He jumped at the loud noise, and had a moment to reflect on the fact that he was incredibly grateful that the gun hadn't been loaded at the time. But he didn't have a chance to take more than a fleeting moment of gratitude at that fact. Because he knew that his nine-year-old daughter, Natalie, had been working in the room where the crash had just occurred.
He slammed the gun down onto the table and took off towards the room, all manner of terrible things running through his head and utterly panicking. Just as he rounded the corner to the living room, Bobby came tearing down the stairs, landing just in front of him. He had been in his room upstairs, organizing his own personal files. The crash had scared the living crap out of him too, and he had gone running out of his room to investigate. Both men entered the room to see one of Bobby's bookshelves tilted forward at a dangerous and awkward angle, and what appears to be a squirming pile of books and papers with a small foot sticking out of it on the floor.
"Natalie!" Dean hollered. Even though she was clearly moving underneath all the detritus, he still needed to hear her voice.
" 'Mokay," came the muffled, quiet answer. Bobby and Dean began pulling the vast amounts of lore books and old newspapers off the child. Bobby reached her first, and managed to haul her out of there by the arm. Even though she was nine, she was still very small for her age- it was easy for him to pull her out of the pile, and set her a bit away from it to examine her for injuries.
"Are you okay?" Bobby said, his voice laced with panic. Natalie gulped and nodded, looking down at the pile of heavy books he had just pulled her out of. At seeing the nod, Dean sighed in relief. Natalie, breathing heavily from the tumble, knew that Bobby wanted her to answer him verbally.
"Yeah- yeah, Pops, I'm okay," she mumbled back. Instantly, the panic in Bobby's eyes turned to fury. He latched onto her upper arm and dragged her closer to him, right in front of his face. At the sudden jerk on her arm, Natalie's eyes got wide and a bit fearful as she saw the angry look on her adopted grandfather's face.
"Were you climbing on them shelves again?" Bobby growled at her in his low, dangerous tone. At that, Dean watched Natalie's face drain of its color. Her eyes darted around the room nervously, and she mumbled something incoherent. Bobby, however, wasn't having any of it.
"Answer me, young lady. Were you climbing on the shelves again?!" Bobby roared at her, his tone forceful and loud, as he jerked her arm again, waiting for a response. Natalie seemed to shrink in on herself, but she knew she better answer up.
"Yes, sir," she mumbled miserably. Without missing a beat, Bobby whipped her around and planted a stinging smack on her backside. Before she could do more than let out a tiny yelp of pain, and Dean could do more than say "Hey!" Bobby spun her around again, and pulled her back in, close in to his face.
"How many times have I told you to stay off them shelves? Huh? How many times, Natalie?" he yelled. Natalie bit her lip to keep the tears from spilling out of her eyes. It had been an accident- she hadn't ever caused the bookshelves to collapse before when she'd climbed up on them, even though she wasn't supposed to. But before she could answer him again, Dean finally found his tongue and spoke up.
"Hang on- he's had to tell you MULTIPLE times?" he asked his daughter, his eyes narrowing dangerously. The little amount of color left in Natalie's face drained completely as her eyes shifted to her father. She knew that now Dean was pissed too. He was adamant about her obeying Bobby just like she did Sam and himself. To know that she had disobeyed multiple times did not bode well for her.
Not done with her yet, Bobby shook her arm again, causing her focus to snap back to him. "Why were you up there? Huh? What made you think climbin' on them shelves was okay?" he demanded.
She gulped again and tried to answer calmly, but between the embarrassment, the pain in her arm from Bobby's grip, and the sting of the smack, the tears threatened to spill out. She inhaled sharply and tried again to speak. "There was…..there was a book that I needed on the top shelf- "
"And you wanna tell me why you didn't get one of us to get it for you?"
"You were upstairs working, and Dad-" her eyes swung back to Dean. "I didn't want to bother you-"
"So instead," Dean interrupted, his blood starting to boil. "You chose to disobey Bobby and climb on those shelves that you've been repeatedly told not to? That about the size of it?"
Natalie fidgeted, her scared gaze darting between Dean and Bobby. "Well- you were busy?" she offered, knowing in her heart of hearts it wouldn't hold up.
Bobby pulled her in even closer. "That ain't gonna fly and you know it. Natalie Grace Winchester, you are nine years old. You know damn well that you are NOT to get up on those shelves."
"But-"
"Do not interrupt him, little girl," Dean said loudly.
"But nothing," Bobby said, shaking her arm again as if Dean hadn't spoken. A little whimper wanted to escape her lips, but she held it back with all her might. "Here you are, acting like a baby who don't know any better. You want us to start treating you that way? Huh? Like a little baby who can't follow the rules?"
"No, sir."
"Then you leave off this foolishness from now on. You hear me?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good." He finally released the grip on her arm. She immediately reached back to rub her backside. For an old man, he still had a damn strong swing. "Now you are gonna clean all this up," he declared, gesturing to the wasteland that was now in his living room. "You put back every book and paper on those shelves, up until the shelves that you can't reach without help. You got it?"
"Yes, sir," she mumbled, her hands dropping to her sides now that she had rubbed all the stinging out.
"You put those top shelf books on the desk in the order they're supposed to go, and then one of us will put them back up." He leaned down into her face again. "And so help me- if I EVER catch you up on them shelves again, you're going one on one with my wooden spoon. Got it?"
"Yes, sir." Her voice came out in a tiny squeak. He had swatted her a few times with his wooden spoon when she was younger and had really acted up. It was not an experience she was anxious to repeat. Bobby nodded once in acceptance of her acquiescence. He looked over at Dean.
"She's all yours," he said gruffly to the younger man. Natalie's eyes darted in panic over to her father. He was about to start in on her now?
*SPN SPN SPN*
After an ear blistering lecture that left her feeling both guilty and angry, Natalie was cleaning up the epic mess of books and papers and only God knows what else. It had been an accident, but Dean didn't seem to see it that way, and he wasn't about to let her explain that. As she cleaned, the unfairness of not being able to tell her side was making her more and more frustrated. She was grinding her back teeth together in frustration by the time Sam came in to the living room. She had about half the room cleared at that point, but the mess was still formidable. Sam stopped short and took it all in.
"Whoa," he muttered quietly. "What happened in here?"
Natalie straightened up with a frustrated expulsion of air. "I accidentally knocked over the book case, so Pops and Dad are making me put everything back." The tone came out a little more forced than was usually safe. She instantly panicked, and prayed that Sam wasn't going to start immediately scolding her like both Dean and Bobby had done.
"Are you okay?" he blurted out, his eyes running up and down his niece, looking for injuries. Those three simple words made tears spring instantly to her eyes. Sam was the only one who was more concerned with her wellbeing than the fact that she had just knocked over a bookshelf- at least, in her mind anyways. But she wasn't one to cry- no way. She sniffed those traitorous tears back and nodded.
"Thank you for asking," she said pointedly, causing Sam to look at her with a curious glance. "I'm okay. Just have to clean up all this crap," she said, looking around the room at the pile that seemed never ending. But before Sam could respond, Dean's voice came cracking in from the other room.
"Sammy, don't you dare help her, or I'll double her punishment," Dean barked out. Sam's eyes quickly flicked back to Natalie, whose face had gone red listening to Dean's words. She whipped back around so Sam couldn't see her, and continued gathering the books, shoving them forcefully back into place. Sam knew better than to call Dean's bluff, but he felt awful leaving her there. It was clear she didn't want to talk, though. He wasn't used to seeing this side of her, and didn't really know how to proceed.
"I'll, uh- I'll just be upstairs if you need me. Okay, Bug?" he said gently.
"Yup," she said briskly. She immediately felt bad over being so clipped with him, but she knew if she said anything more than that, she'd start crying, and that was completely against her own personal law. Sam nodded and went up the stairs to his bedroom as she continued cleaning the colossal mess she had created.
*SPN SPN SPN*
Over an hour later, she shoved her chair back from the small desk in her room, rubbing her stinging eyes. Between the dust that had fallen along with all the books, staring at her computer, and the massive amounts of reading she was doing to finish this stupid book report that had caused all the trouble in the first place, Natalie felt like her eyes were going to fall out. She looked down at her laptop- she really only needed to finish the conclusion, and she could call this thing wrapped. But she felt like she was running on empty. Her brain was tired. She was still a bit resentful and sore from her tumble this afternoon as well, and it was making her cranky. Not to mention, Dean had confined her to her room to finish her homework instead of letting her work on it in the study like she had been. She felt trapped, stifled, and isolated. She did NOT like this feeling.
Before she could really register what she was doing, she found herself on her feet and halfway down the stairs. Maybe a breath of fresh air would help clear her head, and then she could finish off this dumb report and be done with it. But just as her hand touched the doorknob downstairs to sweet, sweet freedom, someone cleared their throat behind her. She turned around to see Dean standing in the middle of the living room, his arms crossed.
"And just where do you think you're going?" he asked lightly, but Natalie knew her father too well to know that his query was anything but casual. She tried to answer back in her own light tone.
"Just outside for a second. I'm dying up there," she said, jerking her head towards her room upstairs.
Apparently, though, Dean didn't give a damn that she was dying. "You finish your homework yet?" he replied. Natalie's gaze quickly darted around the room. She should have seen this coming. Knowing that there was no way out, she tried the puppy eyes again.
"It's so close, Dad, I swear. I just need-"
"If it's so close, then go finish it. Then you can go outside."
"Please? I just need like two seconds!"
"You get some kind of memo that the rules changed around here? Cause I didn't."
"No, I know, but…"
"No buts. Upstairs."
"Dad!"
"March," he commanded. Natalie clenched her teeth together, and as she turned on her heel to stomp back up the stairs, she inadvertently let out a closed-mouth scream of frustration. Before she even blinked, however, Dean barked, furiously displeased at her tone.
"HEY!" he roared, making her jump. She turned back towards him quickly- just in time to see the smoke start pouring from his nostrils and the vein in his neck to start throbbing. She realized- to her horror- that that little angry yell had been a lot louder and more disrespectful than she had intended. All the frustration and fight drained out of her instantly. A Pissed Off Dean Winchester would do that to you.
"Get over here, NOW," he hissed, pointing to his feet. Natalie froze for a split second, before trying the worst idea possible.
"Dad, I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"
"I SAID NOW."
Once again, before she really realized her brain had given her feet the signal to move, she found herself standing before Dean, hands clenched and twisting nervously behind her back. As much as it scared her, she knew she had to look Dean right in the eye, or it would go so much worse for her. Not that things weren't already pretty damn bad.
"It seems you're having a problem doing what you're told," Dean said in his low, dangerous voice. "Bobby told you to stay off the shelves, I told you to finish your homework. You not able to hear all of the sudden?" His eyes narrowed dangerously. She swallowed hard.
"No, sir."
"So you're just hell bent on gettin' yourself in a lot of trouble today. That it?"
"I'm sorry. I…I didn't mean to be disrespectful. I was trying to go back upstairs when…."
"No, you were being defiant instead of disrespectful. You know damn well that what I say goes, and you know my rule about homework. You just decided to disregard the rules because you wanted to."
"I just needed to be outside for a minute, then I was gonna go back! I swear!"
"Missin' the point, kid. What's the rule for homework?"
"It was only gonna be a minute!"
"NATALIE. This is that 'not doing what you're told' thing rearing its head again, right off the bat. You really wanna carry on like this, little girl?"
Natalie fidgeted and dropped her gaze to her shoes. "No, sir."
"So you wanna try this whole thing again?"
"I'm sorry I didn't follow through on the 'homework first' rule," she said limply, the fight going out of her. It was taking her longer and longer these days to get here. Back when she was a kid, it didn't take much before she would just up and punish herself for misbehaving. But these days, she felt like she had pretty good arguments about why she chose to do things. Too bad Dean wasn't willing to hear them.
"Yeah. And you're sorry that you climbed on shelves and got yourself almost killed and stuck up in your room working on the homework you should have finished already." Natalie shifted her weight. It was true, but did he really need to bring that up? She felt the tiny flicker of anger ignite in her again. She didn't like it, but she didn't know how to extinguish it. So she just stood there, taking the rest of Dean's scolding, before he sent her back to her room with the promise that if she came down again before her homework was done, she'd never step foot outside again.
From the quiet of his room, Sam couldn't quite tune out the scolding that poor Natalie was having to endure again.
*SPN SPN SPN*
A grueling half hour later, she slammed the lid to her laptop closed, having just sent her report on the best ways to kill rougaroos to Dean via email. It had taken everything in her power not to put some snarky, sarcastic title to the email. But she was desperate to get outside, and that move would have gotten her locked in the panic room pretty much until she graduated.
She quickly brushed her hair back from her face, mentally going over her homework checklist. She knew if she had forgotten even the slightest thing, Dean would have been all over her, as pissed off as he was right now. Finally, she was satisfied that she had gotten it all, so she started creeping down the stairs. Even though she was done, she still didn't want to see or hear Dean or Bobby right now. She yanked the door open, but was careful to shut it quietly.
Once the fresh air and sunshine hit her face, however, she instantly felt better. She was still pissed, but she was more in control of it now than she had been a moment ago. She took off running for her favorite spot in the junkyard- the one that only she knew about.
It was towards the back, near the fence. Back in the place that Natalie called the Land of Forgotten Cars. It seemed like they were all hunks of junk that had been left here to die. Piles upon piles of rusting car parts, and even crunched and flattened frames stacked up, left to bake in the sun and rust in the rain. Natalie had often wondered why Bobby didn't just up and get rid of it all, but today she didn't care. She glanced quickly behind her as she turned the corner towards the towers of discarded automobiles. She ran right up to the base of the tower- an old Plymouth that had apparently been a Sherman Tank in another life. She glanced around quickly again to make sure that no one was watching. Good. Boy, would she get in trouble if they knew what she did out here.
Like she had a thousand times before, Natalie gripped the passenger side mirror of a car stacked above her head, and hauled herself up. She slowly and meticulously made her way up the rusting metal tower. She strategically placed her left foot into the smashed in side of an old Mustang, and gained another foot of height. At this point, she always stopped, turned, and saluted the barely recognizable old door that was hanging off the headlight of an sun-bleached wooden paneled station wagon. You could only see it from this vantage point, and it had taken her a long time to realize what it actually was, but she always felt the need to pay her respects to one of Baby's original backdoors. She had never asked what it was doing up here or how it had gotten so smashed up, because that would have been a dead giveaway that she was up here in the first place, so she just paid her respects anytime she saw it.
She finally succeeded in climbing to the top, and stretched out full length on the hood of an old Chevelle that graced the top of the rusted tower. It was her favorite place to get away when she just needed to think or be alone, or pout when she was in trouble. She had discovered it totally by accident when she was five and living with Bobby for a year, while going through the ghastly hell of public school. In her desperation to find someplace that she could let her frustrations out that wouldn't get her in trouble, she had stumbled upon the hidden metal mountain. You couldn't see it from the house, not even if you were looking out the second story window. There were no good parts back here, so Bobby nor Dean ever even gave it a second glance. Her hand and footholds for climbing had changed a bit over the years, as pieces fell away due to corrosion, or if she hadn't been particularly anxious to get a tetanus shot that day, but the tower remained- solid and desolate.
She looked up at the clouds. The metal beneath her was already warm from the late afternoon sun, but it wasn't unmanageable. She put her hands behind her head and inhaled deeply. The intensity of the day started to untangle itself in her mind. Why had she gotten so angry? Well, that was easy. She was being treated unfairly.
Were you really? her subconscious whispered to her. She pinched her lips, not really ready to mentally answer the question just yet. Suddenly, a voice from below broke into her reverie and scared the living daylights out of her.
"You know, climbing up on top of a rusty tower in a scrap yard isn't exactly the best idea after you've gotten busted for climbing on bookshelves already today."
Natalie instantly froze. She hadn't even heard him approach. Praying that if she didn't answer, he'd just leave her be, she inhaled shallowly, holding her breath and pinching her eyes shut.
"Bug, I know you're up there."
She sighed resignedly, then crept over to the edge; only her wide, green eyes peering over. Sam was standing right at the foot of the tower, his hands on his hips, but a playful smile on his face. When he saw her eyes, he chuckled to himself.
"C'mon," he said, crooking his finger at her. She had no choice but to obey. Dad and Pops were going to kill her when they found out- not to mention she would lose her safe space. She closed her eyes, wishing it would all just go away, but knew she better do what Sam told her. She began the unwilling and slow climb down.
Sam watched her every move as she carefully descended, his hands halfway stretched to her in case she tumbled, but she didn't need it. Sam was mildly impressed at the way she clearly knew the ins and outs of every nook and cranny of the twisted metal as he watched her maneuver her way back down.
On the ground once more, she looked up nervously at him. She expected him to start yelling immediately- he was even more of a safety nerd than her father when it came to stuff like this. To her immense surprise, however, Sam smiled gently at her before tucking her into his side with a one armed hug. "Come on, I want to show you something," he said. Natalie's surprised eyes sought his for answers, but he was focused on the direction they were going.
"Um- Uncle Sam? Wh-where are we going?" she asked, fear and trepidation in her voice. Sam's smile just widened, but he didn't say anything. "Are we- we're not going back to the house, right?" she asked, the panic clear in her voice this time. Sam looked down at her and stopped moving.
"Nope. Don't worry. I'm not going to rat you out to your father or Bobby," he reassured her with a squeeze. "I just want to show you something," he said, raising his eyebrows and smiling as an invitation.
Upon hearing that she wasn't walking to her doom, Natalie's internal organs all settled back down to their correct places. She still wasn't sure what Sam was doing. However, if he wasn't going to tattle on her, she wasn't going to question it. She nodded, and Sam began walking again with her willingly trotting by his side. After they rounded the corner back towards the center of the junkyard, Sam surreptitiously looked to his left and his right- just as Natalie had done earlier. He took off around another corner- one Natalie had never gone around. She knew it lead to outside of the fence. Even when she had been at her angriest or most frustrated, she never dared cross that barrier. Her eyes widened as Sam casually slipped through a section of broken fence just large enough to let him. She, being about half of his size, followed easily. She stopped in surprise at what she saw.
There were a bunch of cars, lined up on the backside of the fence, their bumpers right up against it. Sam walked about five cars down before going in between the cars. He stopped at the door handle of an Oldsmobile and pried the passenger side door open for her. Her jaw hit the ground, causing Sam to chuckle again.
"Come on. Get in," he said, his grin going unchecked. Natalie cautiously walked towards him, watching his face as she approached. He was still smiling, so, praying that this wasn't a trick, she climbed into the passenger's side. Sam made sure she was fully in before shutting the door. However, he immediately rapped on the window with his knuckles. Natalie reached for the window crank, but realized it wasn't there. Sam chuckled, like he knew that was going to happen and spoke in a regular voice. That was when she noticed there was no windshield in the car. "Watch this," he said, his eyes sparkling.
He suddenly vaulted and slid across the hood of the car she was sitting in, causing her jaw to become unhinged and hit the floorboards in surprise. He popped up on the other side of the car, and gave her a little bow. She was too stunned to respond. He wretched open the driver's side of the car and dropped into the seat. "Been practicing my Dukes of Hazard move out here for years," he confessed to her, before shutting the car door. "What did you think?"
"That. Was. AWESOME," she said breathlessly. Sam chuckled in appreciation of her praise, then leaned back, prying his long legs from under the wheel shaft and tossing them carelessly onto the dashboard, where they stuck out of the place where the windshield should be. Natalie immediately tried to copy him, but only succeeded in getting her feet on top of the dashboard. Upon seeing the grim displeasure in her face, Sam laughed.
"Don't worry. That was about as far as I could reach too when I found this thing for the first time," he commented. Natalie's head whipped around to look him in the face.
"How long have you been coming out here?" she asked. Sam shrugged.
"Since I was about seven."
"And no one ever found you? Not Dad or Grandpa or Pops or anybody?"
"Nope. No one."
"Wow."
They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, just looking out the frame of the car at the sky slowly turning from blue to a gentle fiery orange as the sun set, sitting side by side. Sam was the first to break the ice.
"So. Rough day?" he asked gently, looking over at his niece that he loved more than life itself. Her face crumpled into a mask of frustration at his words. He nodded his head in understanding.
"Boy, I know that face well. It's the reason I found this place to begin with." Out of his periphery, he saw Natalie's eyes turn to him again. He continued. "I would get so mad at our dad, and occasionally at Dean, that I would go hide out here to keep away from all of them. When Dad and Bobby had that falling out when Dean and I were kids, it was especially frustrating to me, knowing that I had lost another spot where I felt safe and that was all my own." He gently patted the worn and cracked leather of the large front seat affectionately. "It was one of the first places I came back to when we re-connected with Bobby. I was glad to know it was still here."
At hearing that long-kept secret, Natalie inhaled sharply. "You feel- you got mad too when you were a kid?" she asked carefully, not wanting Sam to feel like he had to spill anything more than he already had, but curious all the same.
"Mad wasn't even close to what I felt, Bug. I was furious. I felt angry- all the time." He looked over at her. "I get the feeling that you're getting angry a lot yourself these days." Natalie bit her lip. Here it comes, she thought bitterly. Here came the scolding from Sam that she should have known was in the works all along.
"You wanna talk about it?" he asked gently.
It was the last thing she was expecting. Her jaw dropped again, causing Sam to laugh out loud this time. He gently put his hand under her chin and closed her mouth. "You keep your mouth open like that much longer, I'm going to have to start calling you Bug Catcher."
An unbidden giggle burst from Natalie's lips, taking her by surprise. She suddenly felt safe- like she had on top of the hood of her tower car. Sam meant what he said- he was asking if she just wanted to talk it out. She knew that she could tell Sam things, and he would just listen instead of scolding her.
"I'm getting really mad sometimes, Uncle Sam, and I don't like it."
"You're growing up, Bug. It's gonna happen. And it's okay."
"I don't like it," she repeated with emphasis. Sam smiled at her in his gentle way.
"What makes you mad?" he asked.
"When Dad won't let me explain my side of things. Like today- it was just a total accident. I didn't MEAN for those shelves to fall over. I didn't mean to make such a mess. But they both treated me like I was a dumb baby. That made me really mad."
"How did they treat you like a baby?"
"Pops-" Even though Natalie knew that Sam already knew, she couldn't bring herself to tell him that she had gotten spanked like a child, so she amended her statement. "Pops yelled at me like I didn't know anything, and then Dad yelled at me twice. I was just trying to explain why I had climbed on the shelves."
"Why did you?"
"Because I needed a book and I didn't want to bother anyone."
"Is that the real reason?"
That question made Natalie think. Sam's ability to know when she was lying had made her start really analyzing when and why she was tempted to tell a lie. "Well, I guess I just wanted to do it all myself," she responded quietly.
"Bug, in your nine years, how often does lying or trying to get your way work out for you? Really think about that for a moment," Sam prodded gently. She did. As she went through her past misdeeds, she couldn't come up with a single instance that had played out in her favor.
"It….doesn't, really," she mumbled, afraid that the lecture was going to start.
"Exactly. Why?"
"Because…because you or Dad always catch me. You can tell when I'm lying, and he's got eyes everywhere."
"So deep in your heart of hearts, did you really think you were going to continue getting away with something that you knew you shouldn't have been doing?"
Ah- the questions that her brain had started to ask her while she was up on the tower. Her shoulders slumped. "No."
"So you get why Bobby and Dean got upset at you."
"Yes," she said. She didn't like it when Sam made her see reason. Sam knew that, and stifled his smile at the begrudging look on her face.
"However, I will say, I think they both went overboard," he said honestly. That brought her up short. Her eyes swung around to him, searching to see if he was just placating her or if he was telling the truth.
"You do?"
"Oh, absolutely. You're not the only one who's been on the receiving end of Bobby's swats." Sam shifted, as if the memory itself still carried a sting. "And Dean seemed more pissed that worried about you, as far as I was concerned."
Natalie sat up straight, twisting around to Sam, her hands reaching out to him in supplication. "That's exactly what I mean!" she said loudly. "It was just an accident. Yeah, I shouldn't have been doing it, but they came down on me like a ton of bricks!"
"You know why they did that?" Sam asked, turning his full face towards her. She shook her head. She had never stopped to think about that Her eyes sought Sam's, curious for the answer. "Because they were scared," he responded simply. Her face registered shock.
"Scared? What do you mean?"
"What I mean is, it scared the living crap out of both of them to think that you were hurt, especially when the entire thing could have been prevented." He watched as Natalie slowly settled back on the seat, listening to his words and thinking about her actions. "And you know your Dad and Bobby. When they get scared, they get-"
"Loud," Natalie finished up, the light bulb dawning in her brain. Sam nodded in agreement.
"They were reacting in anger because they were both scared for you."
"But Dad's been training me since Day One that a good hunter doesn't let anger rule him."
"Why do you think your Dad harps on you so much on that particular point?"
"I dunno."
"Think."
She did as Sam instructed. He had always been one to make her think and reflect, rather than just parrot her answers. It had always served her well, as it did now.
"Because he has a hard time doing it himself?" she asked tentatively. Sam nodded with a smile.
"Bingo," he said. "You and he are so alike, that he's trying to help you avoid the pitfalls he always seems to drop into. He needs to do a better job of avoiding those pitfalls, himself, in my opinion. That's why I come out here and cool off. Gives me a chance to think. And," he said, pulling his legs off the dashboard and turning full bodied towards his niece. "If you want to, you can use this place too."
Natalie's eyes got wide. "Really? You mean it?" she said breathlessly. "But this is your space."
"I'd rather you take over this space every now and then than try climbing that tower of death again," he teased.
She snickered. But she had another question. "So- other than come out here to cool off- how did you deal with the anger?" He turned to her. He could tell the feeling was really bothering her. He sighed and smiled.
"Well, truth be told, I don't always do a good job of dealing with the anger myself. Sometimes I just need to talk it out- other times I go for a run. It all depends. But you can't let it fester. It has to come out, one way or another. So if you need to talk it out, I've always got your back. Okay, Bug?"
She nodded, feeling relieved, and then launched herself into his arms.
"Thanks, Uncle Sam. You're the best," she said, nuzzling into his chest and feeling the soft flannel against her cheek. It has always been one of her greatest sources of comfort. Sam wrapped his long arms around her and squeezed, dropping a kiss on the top of her head and just holding her for a minute. Finally, he released her.
"Come on. Let's head back to the house. If I know your dad, he's probably feeling pretty guilty about yelling at you so much. Hell, he might even let you order pizza for dinner."
She chuckled, suddenly realizing that Sam was probably right, and feeling more affectionate towards her father. "Uncle Sam?"
"Yeah?"
"Thanks."
"Anytime, Bug."
