Hey hey hey beautiful family! How are you doing today? GUESS WHAT TOMORROW IS? End of hellatus, yippee! Oh, also, I'm going to my first SPN con :) I'm only slightly freaking out excited. Okay, I'm losing my mind excited.

Anyways, here's part three! Thank you to all of you who take the time to read and review, and let me know that you still love Natalie as much as I do. I appreciate you guys just so much, I really can't express it. Shout out to my sis, Jenmm31, best beta ever. Go check out her stories and show her some love- she's the only reason I'm here. Her works are fantastic, seriously, enjoy.

Okay people, do what you do- read, review, ENJOY! Love you jerks and bitches and idjits and assbutts.

A/N- in this story, Natalie is nineteen. This is part three of a three part story. If you haven't, please read the previous two chapters, otherwise this ain't gonna make a lick of sense. Please see profile page for disclaimer.

Part 3

"What. The Fuck. Was that?" Natalie gasped, still trying to catch her breath. In the backseat next to her, Sam had been leaning against the seat, his head tilted back as he tried to regulate his breathing as well. He turned his head and looked at his niece. "Sorry, Uncle Sam," she said, still gulping for air. She knew he hated it when she swore.

"Well, in this case, I think it's the only appropriate response. What the fuck WAS that?" Sam said back, a little twinkle in his eye at her. Despite the fact that her lungs still felt like they were on fire from their mad dash out of the haunted house, she giggled a bit.

Dean drove back to the motel like a bat out of hell, barely saying two words. The moment they screeched to a halt, he ripped the key out of the ignition, barreled over to Natalie's side of the car, and all but hauled her out of the backseat, pulling her into his chest. She had been expecting it. Any time she had a close call on a case, it was like Dean needed to hold her afterwards, just to make sure she was still intact and safe. She let him drag her out of the car and wrap her in his arms. Truth be told, she didn't really mind all that much. She found just as much comfort in it as he did.

After holding his daughter for a moment, he released her, and held her away from him at arm's length, leaning down a little to look her squarely in the eye. "You okay?" he demanded gruffly.

She nodded back. "Yeah, Dad, I'm fine."

"You sure?"

"Sure."

"Alright then. Come on." Dean released his grip and turned towards the motel room. All three Winchesters made their way in, and Dean closed and quickly dead bolted the door behind them. Sam was at the ready with the container of salt, pouring a thick line at the base of the door. Natalie rushed over to check that the lines were still intact at the windows. Once they had secured themselves, as one, they turned towards the center of the room and just looked at each other. A moment of silence followed.

"Okay, seriously, what the fuck was that?!" Dean finally roared, shattering the silence. Sam shook his head, his hands on his hips.

"I don't know, man. That was insane," he said simply, trying to piece together what had happened.

"Have you guys ever seen a ghost that acted like that before?" Natalie asked, looking back and forth between them. Sam and Dean shared a questioning look as they quickly flipped through their brains, trying to remember.

"We've seen some ghosts that have been able to pick up objects and kill people," Sam said, still looking at Dean while racking his brain. "But I don't ever remember seeing one with pyro kinetic abilities."

Dean rolled his eyes sarcastically. "Yeah, well your fancy name for it don't change the fact that that thing can go 'Flame On' when it doesn't get its way." He looked over at Natalie. "You did good to keep it at bay as long as you did," he said briskly, but not unkindly.

She nodded back, appreciating the praise. "Thanks. So creepy ghost boy is obviously looking for something…"

Sam nodded again before crossing over to the table to sit. "It kept saying 'Mama'. I think it's looking for its mother," he said, flipping open the lid to his laptop. The blue screen glowed to life immediately. He quickly typed in his password, and began hunting. "It seems like it's one of the kids from the orphanage. Maybe we can find some link to its family…"

"His," Natalie interrupted quietly. Sam stopped speaking and looked at her in surprise. She inhaled deeply before answering. "You keep calling him 'it'. It's a little boy," she said, looking at the wall, not wanting to meet his gaze, and not exactly knowing why it bothered her that Sam kept saying "it".

Sam just stared at her for another second before recovering. "Yeah- uh, right. Sorry. 'His' family," he restated, looking again at his niece. Natalie nodded once, awkwardly, then crossed over towards the couch and began unlacing her boots to give both her eyes and her hands something to do. Sam and Dean shared another brief but concerned look.

Trying to avoid the awkward moment, Dean crossed over towards the table and sat down opposite Sam, cracking open his own computer. "You think we're gonna find birth records on a kid born like a hundred years ago?" he said skeptically, punching his own password in. "Besides, even if we can dig up this kid's mother, what good is it gonna do?"

Sam shrugged. "It may give us an idea about what we're dealing with here," he said, returning his attention to the screen. "Like maybe there's an indecent with fire or maybe the boy's parents died in a fire…"

"It's a good idea," Natalie piped up, walking over in her socked feet. She scooted over to the chair by her own laptop, her fingers flying as she unlocked it. Despite the fact that it was nearly three in the morning, the Winchesters got to work. They were all too keyed up from their hundred-yard ghost marathon to do anything but. However, as the clocked ticked on and the adrenaline wore off, even Natalie found herself yawning. When the clock hit 3:30 AM, Dean closed the lid on his laptop.

"Alright. There's no point in burning the midnight oil right now. We need shut eye," he said authoritatively. Sam just nodded tiredly, closing his own laptop. Natalie was resolutely ignoring both of them. Dean finally stood up, leaned over, and shut her laptop right in front of her face. She huffed and looked up at him.

"Bed. Now," he commanded. She was about to open up her mouth and protest, but he gave her The Eye that had been curtailing her behavior since birth, and she knew it was pointless. She thumped back in her chair, glowering. Dean turned on his heel and made his way towards the bathroom. Sam chuckled at the old, familiar scene.

"Bug, it's really late. You know the rules when we're on a case," he reminded her gently. He expected her to roll her eyes or offer up some sarcastic response. Instead, he was surprised when she bit her lip and looked away, crossing her arms tightly. Sam immediately reached out a hand and placed it on her shoulders. "Hey- you okay?" he asked, his voice full of concern. He hadn't gotten the answers he wanted from her back on the street when he and Dean had been telling her off, but now she wasn't shutting him out like she had been. She didn't answer right away, but Sam wasn't letting go. He kept gently rubbing her shoulder until she spoke.

"Nights just suck right now. More so than normal," she said in a low, clipped tone. Sam nodded in sympathetic understanding. He himself had had too many "nights that sucked" to not know what she was talking about. He stood up, right next to her.

"Hey. C'mere," he said softly. Without missing a beat, she stood up and wrapped her arms around his waist, burrowing into the soft flannel of his shirt. Sam smiled sadly, and held onto her, as tightly as he could. After a moment, he put one hand on the side of her head, pressing her into his chest. He knew she had always liked that when she was younger- it gave her an added sense of security. He felt her relax a bit in his arms, now. He dropped a kiss on top of her head.

"It's okay, Bug. I got you. It's okay," he whispered. She didn't respond verbally, but nuzzled deeper into his chest. He just stood there holding her for a moment, till she suddenly pushed away from him, using the backs of her hands to wipe under her eyes.

"It's fine. I'm fine," she muttered, not looking up at Sam. He wasn't buying it.

"Natalie, we can still talk about Bobby…" he began tentatively, but upon hearing her Pops' name, she shook her head.

"I need to go to bed now," she said, shaking her head again, still avoiding eye contact.

"Are you going to be able to sleep?" Sam asked as gently as he could, knowing that this was part of the real issue. She had never liked sleeping, but when forced to, she fell asleep at the drop of a hat. She wasn't used to things keeping her up at night, and he knew that it scared her more than she was willing to say.

Unexpectedly from behind them came a deep, gruff voice. "Here. This'll help." Dean walked towards the three of them, whiskey bottle in one hand, three small glass tumblers clutched in the fingers of the other hand. He had overheard enough of the conversation to make an educated guess as to what was going on with his daughter, and as usual, he was right. He plunked the glasses down, quickly unscrewed the lid, and poured out three shots of the honey-colored liquid.

"Come on. The family that drinks together, stays together," he quipped, bringing a grin both to Sam and Natalie's faces. They downed the shots, Natalie coughing a bit on hers. Sam watched as Natalie and Dean both shook their heads in tandem as the whiskey burned their throats, then silently exhaled on a "whoo" in perfect unison. He tried to suppress his smile, but it was still amusing to him, watching how much in sync the two of them were, even after nineteen years. When she looked back up at Sam, he was happy to see some of the pain in her eyes had dissipated.

"Thanks, Uncle Sam," she said shyly. He smiled at her, and pulled her in again.

"I love you, Bug," he said, squeezing her tight.

"Love you too," came the muffled reply. Sam let her go and turned, picking up the three shot glasses and heading towards the sink. She looked up at Dean.

"Thanks for the shot. It did help," she admitted with a guilty smile.

"Hey," he said, looking at her with adoring eyes. She grinned back, still loving that look.

"I know. You too," she said, stepping forward into his arms. He squeezed her tightly.

"I know. Now go to bed."

She giggled. "Yes, sir."

*SPN SPN SPN*

The next morning, Natalie was, of course, the first one awake. When the boys came to around 11 am, she was typing away on her laptop.

Groaning his way towards the full coffee pot, Dean grunted out, "What time." It wasn't a question and they all knew it.

Natalie rolled her eyes. "I slept in till 8:30," she said, sounding ticked. However, both boys knew it wasn't because she hadn't slept in- it was because, in her mind, she had gotten a late start on the day. For the kid who was used to waking up at 5:30 naturally, 8:30 was practically half the day wasted. Sam fixed her with his own Eye upon hearing her confession. She knew she was supposed to get over four hours, and that was barely cutting it.

"I did!" she insisted. He could tell she wasn't lying- there was no rush in his blood indicating that she was trying to get away with something.

He nodded at her approvingly. "Well good. Does you good to see how the rest of the world actually functions," he teased. She just grinned back and shook her head, apparently feeling better than she had last night. Sam didn't want to make her upset again, so he didn't bring it up. Instead, he plopped down next to her at the table. "Find anything?" he asked.

She grinned triumphantly. "Boy did I," she gushed. She turned the laptop towards him so he could see. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and squinted at the tiny writing of the old fashioned document she had pulled up out of the dregs of the Internet. She snickered at him.

"Want me to find your reading glasses, Gramps?"

Without looking at her, Sam put his gigantic hand on her face and gently shoved her back, causing her to giggle again. He grinned as he continued to scan the document.

"So…this is a… birth certificate?"

"Yup. From 1929."

"Why is this our ticket to cracking the ghost kid case?" Dean said in his raspy-still-not-awake voice.

"Check out the name on the birth certificate," Natalie said triumphantly. Dean held up a hand to her.

"Take it down a notch. It's too early to be that happy." He leaned in past her smirking face to look at the computer with his brother. Before she could open her mouth, he pointed a finger at her. "One comment about reading glasses and I'll nail your ass to the wall." Natalie just giggled to herself. Sam commented first.

"So- the name- Enoch Smith?" he questioned, looking Natalie. "Who is Enoch Smith?"

She shook her head. "Not that name. Check out the mother's name." Sam focused and squinted again. He searched for the mother's name, and when he found it, his jaw dropped.

"Lydia Cortadine," he whispered. Natalie nodded again enthusiastically.

"Wait- wasn't she the chick who used to run the orphanage?" Dean said, the coffee nudging his brain into working.

"One and the same. Looks like she had a child out of wedlock. See?" Natalie said, pointing at the document. "No father listed. Generic last name." She leaned back in her chair, proud of her discovery. "I'm guessing this is our ghost kid."

Sam and Dean looked at each other. "I guess it could be," Sam said hesitantly. "A kid that actually belonged to the lady who ran the orphanage…"

Dean nodded, following Sam's train of thought. "She wasn't married- probably would have gotten fired from her job had they known she had a brat of her own."

"It would be the perfect place to stay and hide with an illegitimate kid."

"Where you could still see him and support him…"

"-without having to admit to the world that you're a giant whore bag."

"Dean."

"So she dies in 1934- that means the kid's only five when she passes."

"He's left alone, no mother, no father. Enough to make a kid vengeful."

"You think?"

"But didn't the article say that all the kids got adopted? He should have gone on to a happy, healthy family."

"You know you sound like a giant girl when you say crap like that, right?"

"Hang on," Natalie interrupted, already hard at work on her laptop. "I think I got it. Check it out," she said, pointing to the screen. "Enoch Bary, aka Enoch Smith- was declared insane at the age of ten." She leaned back in her chair, tilting her head back and covering her face with her hands like she couldn't handle the terrible truth of what she was reading. "And dead at fourteen. That poor kid," she murmured, her hands covering her mouth. Sam reached over and rubbed her shoulder, trying to comfort her. "So this might not be our kid. He didn't die there in that house, and he wasn't that age when he died. The ghost is definitely younger than fourteen."

Sam shrugged. "Sometimes after death, people revert to a particular traumatic event in their lives. He could have de-aged."

Dean nodded in agreement. "They're not always tethered to their places of death either, if that's not where their big psycho snap happened in life."

Natalie shook her head. "It just seems like there's something else, you know? Like I get that the traumatic event of losing his birth mother made him go all Looney Tunes, but how is it that he's got pyro kinetic abilities? How is it that he's so corporeal?" Before Sam could speak up, Dean grinned widely and pointed at Natalie.

"See?" he said to Sam. "That's why she doesn't need college. She's already using all kinds of ten-dollar words." He turned his proud smile on his daughter. "You're so damn smart, you know that?"

Natalie playfully rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah. But do you see what I mean? Like- I could have sworn that… I could have touched him when he reached out to me." That statement immediately got Sam and Dean both tense, which she promptly noticed. "Don't worry, I wasn't going to," she said quickly. "But it doesn't change the fact that if I would have touched him, he would have been solid. Something other than his tragic past is keeping him trapped here. I know it."

Dean rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. "Well, you may be on to something kid, but the important thing is going to be how to get him un-trapped." He gestured to the computer Natalie had been working on. "Any clues where he's buried?" After a few flutters of her fingers, Natalie shook her head.

"He was cremated after he died. Typical practice in Victorian times with mental institution patients."

Dean growled low in his throat. "Great. No bones to burn. Should have known this wasn't going to be easy." He turned to Sam. "Got any ideas?"

Sam had been sitting back, his fingers tapping his lips as he thought. He looked over at Dean. "One. But you're not gonna like it."

*SPN SPN SPN*

Later on that night, the Winchesters had, once again, pulled to the curb opposite the haunted orphanage. Dean looked in the backseat at Natalie, double-checking the hastily scrawled notes from this afternoon's phone call. He gritted his teeth and looked at Sam.

"There's got to be another solution," he growled at his brother.

"Dad. Give it a rest," she said before Sam could reply. "I'm not going to be in any danger at all. Besides, she owed me a favor."

"With Rowena, there's always a catch to her favors."

"She's owed me a big one for a while now. Once I reminded her of that, she assured me that it was just a spell- nothing more. Not to mention, she likes me way more than she likes you two."

Dean shook his head and glared at Sam. "If this goes south, this is on you."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Dean, for the one millionth time. The spell will trap the spirit and send it on."

"Yeah, well- what if it doesn't even show up?" Dean asked, grasping at straws for a way out of using a witch's spell.

"Got that covered," Natalie piped up, holding up another paper. "This is a summoning spell- just in case. But I don't think we're gonna need it. Just call it a back up." Seeing that he was outnumbered, Dean slapped his hands onto his thighs.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. You two are freaking geniuses. Let's get this over with," he grumbled as he exited the car. Natalie took the bag of herbs with her out of the backseat as Sam opened up the trunk and extracted a scrying bowl. Amidst Dean's muttering about how much he hated "freaking witches", they carefully made their way towards the house. As they got closer, Sam fell in the lead, with Dean close by Natalie. If that ghost kid made one wrong move towards his daughter again, he was prepared. He gripped the sawed off that was chocked full of salt rounds tightly, as if it would disappear if he didn't hold on tight enough.

They carefully made their way towards the study, keeping one eye open for the boy. Sam quickly cleared a surface on the desk and set the bowl down. "Alright Bug, let's do this," he said quietly. Natalie quickly stepped up to the desk and plunked the bag full of the spell ingredients on top.

"Hurry up," Dean commanded in a gruff voice, checking all around as they worked. Natalie extracted the notes from her pocket and handed them to Sam, who started measuring out ingredients as fast as he could. She turned around just in time to see the boy materialized out of nowhere into the middle of the room.

She gasped loudly, causing both Sam and Dean to turn around and see him. However, upon registering that the ghost was back, Sam whipped back around towards the bowl, working twice as fast as he had been, knowing that the clock was truly ticking now. Dean trained the sawed off on the boy, but didn't fire. He just held it at the ready.

The ghost tilted his head again, looking at Natalie, much in the same way he did the first time he saw her. "Mama?" he said in his cold, little voice. Natalie knelt down slowly to his level, knowing she had to keep him occupied as long as possible in order to give Sam time to finish the spell.

"Enoch?" she said quietly. The ghost boy took a step back, his eyes widening. No one had called him that name in years. Not since…

"Mama?" he said again, this time, more urgently. Natalie smiled at him.

"Is your name Enoch?" she asked again. The ghost boy nodded and took one step towards her. Dean's knuckles nearly split through his skin as he tightened his grip on the sawed-off.

"Sam," he growled, pleading, low under his breath.

"Almost," Sam hissed back, his hands flying as he tossed bones and herbs into the bowl. Natalie didn't dare take her eyes off the boy, but she overheard the exchange. She smiled again at the boy, as calmly as she could.

"It's okay, Enoch. It's okay. We're here to help you," she said slowly, trying to see if he could understand. Enoch tilted his head the other way, trying to make sense of her words. Then he saw the boys.

His eyes narrowed as he took in the shotgun in Dean's hands. That was the thing that hurt him before. His gaze slid over to Sam, who dropped the last item into the bowl and turned around, snatching the paper up to read the spell.

He didn't like this. He didn't like this at all.

As quick as lightning, he extended his hand towards Sam. "Not Mama," he growled. Sam yelped as the paper in his hands burst into flames. He dropped it and backed up against the desk.

"No, Enoch! Don't!" Natalie cried out, watching Sam in horror. The ghost child turned his attention to Dean.

"NOT MAMA!" he screamed in a high-pitched ungodly cry, causing the glass in the pictures in the room to shattered. All three Winchesters covered their heads as the room became filled with flying glass shards. Natalie felt a couple pieces slice her hands as they protected her head. The instant she felt safe to uncover herself, she looked again, desperately for Enoch. He was raising a glowing hand towards Dean.

"NO!" she screamed. The ghost child paid no attention to her as a savage, hungry look crossed his face. She couldn't take it. She gasped, and got a sudden crazy idea.

"Enoch, stop!" she commanded in a loud voice. Every head in the room turned towards her loud, authoritative voice, as if they were bidden to do so by the sound. She inhaled deeply, and spoke again.

"It's me," Natalie said evenly. "It's Mama."

Dean's skin turned pale and clammy. What the hell was she doing?! "Natalie!" he hissed. Natalie turned to him. He could see the desperation mixed with the determination in her eyes. He had never seen it so strong before.

"Dad, don't," she whispered back. She turned her face back to the ghost boy, whose palm was still stretched towards Dean, but was no longer glowing. "Yes, Enoch, that's right. It's me," she said in a gentle tone. Enoch tilted his head again and took two steps towards her, his cool, gray hands moving to extend to her.

"Natalie, you stop this," Dean hissed again, panicking as the ghost boy started towards his little girl. "Stop it now."

She shook her head and turned her face towards him again. "I can't," she said. He was shocked to see tears in her eyes. She never cried. "I can't let him hurt you. I can't lose you too."

Too? Dean thought to himself. Natalie looked at the little boy, whose face was a mask of longing. She extended her arms towards him, inviting him in. He rushed into them, and she closed him in her embrace. He was exactly what she thought he'd be- solid to the touch. But he was cold. She brushed her hand through his hair. It felt like frozen straw. But she could feel the despair, the hurt, and the confusion radiating off of the child. She held him tighter.

"It's okay," she whispered. "It's okay, Enoch. I know. I know what you're feeling." Enoch leaned back. His dead, gray eyes searched her wet, green ones. "I know what it's like to lose someone who's important to you. All you want is them back, right?" she said.

Enoch nodded. "Mama," he said, and there was a trace of sadness in his tone. Natalie nodded in understanding as memories of Bobby flooded her mind.

"You feel like your heart has been torn right out of your chest, don't you?" she said, unable to stop the tears from sliding down her face. "You feel like even if you could find your heart again, that you don't know if you want to put it back, because that might hurt even worse. Right?" The ghost child nodded sadly, and put his arms around Natalie's neck. Natalie pressed her hand gently on the back of his head, pulling him in tighter, just like Sam did to her.

Dean's lungs closed off. Hearing her confession about how Bobby's death made her feel- really feel- was like going through the pain of losing him all over again. He couldn't leave her like this. He had to help. But if he made one wrong move, the ghost child could set her on fire before they could send him on to the afterlife. He looked up at Sam, panic screaming in his eyes to help his child. Sam's face was just as horrified, trying to come up with a way out of this and coming up empty. They had lost the spell to banish the ghost. They couldn't burn his bones. What were they going to do?

Dean's eyes frantically darted around the room, looking for something- anything that would get this ghost child to let go of his Natalie. They landed on a picture of the woman who looked like her. She was holding the hand of a little boy- who looked exactly like Enoch. In an instant, an old, almost forgotten fact burst into his mind.

"Sam," he hissed. Sam's terrified eyes slid to Dean. "The other spell," Dean mouthed, not wanting to draw attention to either of them so Enoch wouldn't freak out and hurt his baby girl. Sam looked confused as hell for a moment, but slowly pulled the other spell out of his pocket, trusting that Dean had a plan. He checked the list of ingredients needed for the summoning spell. There were a few more in the scrying bowl than were needed for it, but essentially it was all there- except a piece of something that belonged to the person you were trying to summon. Dean carefully picked up the picture frame and ever so slowly made him way towards Sam.

Meanwhile, Enoch finally leaned out of Natalie's embrace again. "Mama," he said, the relief palpable in his voice. He gently poked Natalie's nose, causing her to give a watery giggle.

"I know, I look a little different," she said. "But listen to me. You can't hurt the other two in the room with us." Enoch's gaze lifted to the boys, who both immediately froze. Natalie gently put her hands on Enoch's cold cheeks, turning his gaze back to her. "You can't hurt them. Do you understand? I've already had my heart torn out by losing someone I love. If I lose either one of them, I can't survive. There will be no more me anymore at all. Do you understand?" she said, her voice quivering. Enoch nodded slowly.

"Mama," he said, reaching out a small cold hand to gently wipe away her tears. While he was distracted, Dean set the picture carefully in the bowl, and while Sam muttered the written words on the page, Dean pulled his lighter out and set the bowl's contents ablaze.

A loud, sudden rush of wind swept through the room. All eyes turned as the shining image of a tall, beautiful woman appeared in the doorway to the study. Enoch's grip around Natalie's neck loosened.

"Mama?" he gasped, looking at the apparition. Lydia- the ghost that Sam and Dean summoned- nodded and smiled.

"My sweet boy," she said, extending her wispy gray arms to him. Enoch rushed her, and she scooped him up, pressing him tightly into her. Once the ghost child was in her arms, she seemed to exhale in relief. She looked at all three of the Winchesters.

"Thank you," she whispered simply. She turned to the boy in her arms. "Come, Enoch. It's time to go home." With another rush of wind and a flash of light, mother and son disappeared.

Dean's lungs started working again. He looked over at Sam, who nodded back that he was okay. He turned his gaze towards his daughter, still on her knees in the middle of the room, her arms wrapped tightly around her waist. She was hunched over, almost in half. Her back was shaking with silent sobs.

He waded through the broken glass and got down right next to her. "C'mere, kid. I got you," he said, pulling her into his arms, letting her soak the front of his shirt with her tears.

*SPN SPN SPN*

Later on that night, after they had gotten back to the motel and treated their sliced hands and arms, the three of them sat in close proximity on the motel couch, Natalie in the middle, each of them clutching a beer and laughing.

"You remember how Pops used to make me pancakes all the time? For like, every meal?" Natalie said with a giggle. "I used to think it was all he knew how to make. But he really did it just because I loved them so much."

Sam chuckled back. "I'm pretty sure you lived off of pancakes during your entire year with him. You would fight me so hard when I tried to get you to eat anything else."

Dean took another sip from his beer before speaking. "Hey Sammy- you remember that time Bobby took us outside and taught us how to play catch?"

Natalie turned towards her father. "I didn't know he taught you to do that," she said. Dean nodded.

"Oh yeah. Dad was out on a hunt, and he wanted Bobby to work with us on the double barrels. But instead, he took us to a park, gave me a baseball mitt, and taught me how to catch a grounder." Dean grinned at the memory. "It was awesome." Sam nodded and smiled, remembering the man who had actually remembered that he and Dean had once been children, and had treated them as such in the best way possible.

Natalie leaned her head back against the sofa. "Look. I'm really sorry that I haven't talked about Pops or been avoiding the topic or anything…" she started, but Dean cut her off.

"Kid, everyone grieves differently. You needed to work through it in your own time, and in your own way. Part of bein' human, you know? Although," he said, the teasing tone back in his voice. "If you could do it next time without deciding to make me the foster grandfather to a dead kid, that'd be great."

Natalie chuckled and tilted her head over to rest it on his shoulder. "I'll see what I can do." After another moment, she looked back up into his face. "How did you know that picture would summon Lydia?"

"First off, I didn't. Second off, it wasn't the picture," Dean said, taking another swig of beer. Sam and Natalie's face wrinkled in confusion.

"Then what was it?" Sam asked, perplexed.

Dean swallowed. "The frame. I remember once, way back when we were on a case with a haunted doll, when you said that people in Victorian times used to use locks of their hair to decorate personal stuff. Every picture frame in that house had that weird braided detail around it. I took a shot in the dark that it was her hair. Lucky me," he commented casually before lifting the beer bottle to his lips again.

Natalie's mouth fell open in shock. "That was pure genius," she said, nodding appreciatively.

He grinned down at her. "Where do you think you get it from?" he replied, causing her to giggle. Even Sam chuckled low at that one. All three of them sipped their beers in comfortable silence.

After a moment, Sam turned and looked at his niece. "You gonna be okay, Bug?" he asked gently.

Natalie thought for a moment. She was still hurting from Bobby's death. She knew in her heart of hearts that she would always hurt from it. But as she continued to deal with the grief, the pain would get to a point where she could deal with it without it taking over her life. She now believed what Sam and Dean had been telling her all along- that when it became too much for her to deal with, she didn't have to do it alone. She could talk to them, and they would work through it together.

"Yeah," she replied, a genuine smile on her face as she lifted her beer bottle to her lips, looking exactly like Dean and causing both boys to smile. "Yeah, I will be. I'll be okay."