Goooooooooood morning, SPN Family! Who's emotionally ready for this Thursday? Not me! :D

Here's some little Natalie for you all. Hope you enjoy it! Thank you all for taking the time to read and review- you guys are manna from Heaven. Special thanks to my sis, Jenmm31 for being the best everything ever. Go check out her stories and show her some love. She more than anyone else deserves it.

Be nice to each other. Gonna be a tough week for all of us.

A/N- in this story, Natalie is 4. Please see profile page for disclaimer.

"Is not."

"Is too."

"Is NOT."

"Is TOO."

"IS NOT!"

"IS TOO!"

"You guys are really yelly today," came the singsong voice from the backseat of the '67 Chevy Impala. Both Sam and Dean stopped their argument long enough to turn and look at the four year old buckled into her car seat. When Natalie saw she had their attention, she waved at them with both hands and a giggle.

Sam turned back to Dean, full bitch face activated. "Dean, it is TOO a bad idea to bring her with us. First off, how the hell are we going to explain two FBI agents, asking questions about a murder, with a four year old in tow? Second, we have to focus- we can't be watching her every minute."

"I'll be good, Unca Sam, I promise!"

"Squirt, don't interrupt Uncle Sam while he's being a whiny little bitch."

"Sorry!"

Sam exhaled heavily through his nose and practically shattered his teeth grinding them together, but kept going. "And third, what if we encounter something while we're there?"

Dean's stoic face kept focused on the road, just waiting for Sam's diatribe to finish. "You give me one other option that we have then, Sam. I'm all ears." That shut his brother up quickly. Sam just pursed his lips and looked out the window, giving Dean free rein to continue the argument that had begun back in the motel room. "This is going to take both of us, remember? This lady ain't gonna have any idea that she's housing a haunted antique. You questioning her, me searching the store. That's how this goes down. We've already been through this."

"Yeah, but Dean-"

"But what? We ain't been here long enough to scope out daycares or friendly waitresses or whatever. Cas ain't answering his phone. And we sure as hell ain't leaving her unsupervised in the motel room. So, once again, feel free to enlighten me about your genius plan of what to do with the kid."

Sam just continued looking out the window, knowing that he really didn't have an option left. Tangling with the supernatural was one thing- marching his four-year-old niece straight into it was another. He knew he was being overprotective, but his concern for Natalie was palpable. His guts turned to lead just thinking about what might happen to her if anything went south here.

As if he could read his brother's mind, Dean spoke again- this time, in a slightly quieter voice. "Look. We're just going to the store, and you're gonna ask some questions while I look around. It's…" He looked quickly at his watch. "…eleven a.m. Ghosts are down for the day."

"You don't know that."

"Since when do they attack in daylight hours? Please tell me, because I'd sure as hell love to be sleepin' at two a.m. instead of saltin' and burnin' every couple days. We're just asking questions, and I'll keep an eye on the rug rat." Sam couldn't help it- the derisive little snort came out of his mouth before he could stop it. Dean arched his eyebrow and gave his brother a death glare. "Something you'd like to say?" Dean said through clenched teeth.

Sam had the decency to attempt looking abashed before he answered. "Dude, we're going into an antique store. With a four year old." When Dean failed to comment, Sam added on to it. "A HYPER four year old."

"And?"

"You're going to have to be holding her every minute to keep her from destroying anything."

"That is not true," Dean said, affronted. While keeping his eyes on the road, he threw over his shoulder, "Hey, kiddo. Think you can behave while we're at the store?"

Natalie nodded vigorously. She NEVER got to go on cases with Daddy and Unca Sam, so she was very anxious to behave. "I will be the goodest I've ever been," she promised sincerely. With a satisfied smile, Dean looked at Sam.

"See?" he said proudly. "She's going to be the goodest." Dean gave his brother a cocky smirk.

Sam wasn't convinced. "She's four, Dean."

"Well aware of that, Sam."

"She may mean what she says now, but she's still four. She's going to eventually run wild." Before Sam could continue, much to Dean's delight, they pulled up right in front of the antique store they'd heard about from the sheriff.

"Oh, look, we're here!" Dean said loudly, cutting his brother off. He swerved into a parking spot on the side of the street, killed the engine, and hopped out before Sam could come up with another annoying argument. He ran around to the other side of the Impala, but Sam anticipated his motives, jumped out too. He quickly stood in front of the rear door, blocking his brother.

Dean gritted his teeth and gave Sam The Eye. "Move," he commanded in his low growl.

"Dean, just hear me out," Sam pleaded, holding his hands up. "There's got to be a better way."

"There's not. Now you gonna waste more time that we could be using getting a babysitter for when we REALLY can't take her with us, or you gonna move your giant moose body?" With a defeated sigh, Sam stepped aside. Dean smirked at his brother triumphantly. "That's what I thought." He ignored Sam's bitch face and opened the car door.

Natalie was kicking her heels delightedly, excited by the prospect of adventure. Dean squatted down next to her before releasing her from her car seat. "Alright, squirt, listen up," he said, in his kind but no-nonsense voice. She immediately stopped kicking, and turned her wide, piercing eyes on her father, paying attention with every fiber of her being. "Uncle Sam and I are going in there to work, you understand?" She nodded. "While we're in there, I need you to be on your best behavior."

"Okay, Daddy."

"I mean it, Natalie. I don't want you running around or breaking crap."

"I won't break crap, I promise," she said, completely sincerely. Dean heard Sam's huffy little verbal ejaculation on hearing the four year old say 'crap', but ignored it.

"I want you to stay close to me, got it?"

"I got it. Can I be a hunter too?"

"You can watch me and your Uncle Sam and see how we question people to give us information. But I just want you watching- don't ask questions to anybody just yet. Sound good?"

"WOW. I get to watch! WOW!"

"Damn right wow. So- you understand what I'm saying?"

"Yes, sir! Be good, don't break crap, and watch you and Unca Sam."

"That's my girl," he said, reaching into the car and unbuckling Natalie from her seat. She began wiggling in anticipation and excitement, causing Dean to chuckle. He finally undid the last clasp. "Be free," he announced dramatically. She rocketed out of her seat, but waited once she had clambered onto the sidewalk, turning around and looking at him with her wide, innocent eyes.

Dean smiled proudly. They had had several talks recently about her running once she'd finally been released from the car, and he was pleased to see that she was already listening and behaving. He held out his hand to her and she took it, grinning to beat the band. With his free hand, Dean closed Baby's back door and patted his pocket for his fake ID. He turned to Sam, who was still looking incredibly apprehensive. "Alright Sammy, let's do this," he said bravely.

However, Sam was determined to say his piece to Natalie as well. He looked down at the little girl who he loved more than life itself. "Okay, Natalie, if anything bad happens in there, what do you do?" he asked her gently.

She immediately fished in the big side pocket of her cute purple corduroy overalls, and came up with a small tin box. "Throw salt on it!" she said eagerly. Sam smiled and nodded. She always insisted on keeping that small tin of salt on her, because she knew what was what in the supernatural world. He hated that she had to know it- but she was a Winchester, after all.

"Good girl, that's right," Sam praised. Natalie grinned and shoved the salt tin back into her purple pocket. "And if salt doesn't work?"

She let go of Dean's hand to dig into her other pocket, coming up with a silver coin. "This!" she announced proudly.

"That's right. And after you throw the salt or the silver on them?"

"Run and hide!"

"Good job."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Sam, you honestly think we're gonna get attacked in the middle of great aunt Tillie's thrift shop?"

"Better to be safe than sorry," Sam replied back. Dean had to give him that one. He reached out his hand to his daughter again, and she took it eagerly.

"You did good on Uncle Sam's little quiz there, kiddo."

"I know. I'm awesome," she said confidently. Both boys couldn't help but chuckle at that.

They walked into the store and were immediately assaulted by the smell of mothballs, dust, and deteriorating wood. As far as the eye could see, there was nothing but furniture, furniture and more furniture. Desks, bureaus, wardrobes, tables, chairs, bed stands, side tables, nightstands, coffee tables from every conceivable era in American history. It was as if someone had taken 200 lifetimes full of furniture and crammed it all into a very small storefront. To top it off, every available surface that wasn't covered in more furniture had books, porcelain teacups, vintage toys and magazines on it.

Sam and Dean looked at each other, horrified, at the sheer amount of STUFF in the store. This was going to take forever to figure out which piece was causing the undead to rise again. Natalie, however, was transfixed. She'd never seen such a playground before. It was like a gigantic wooden maze- with little nooks and crannies that only an agile four-year-old could fit into. She was desperate to explore, but she suddenly felt Dean's hand grip her own more tightly. She was instantly reminded that she was on a case, and that she had to be good. She was a hunter now. Dean had even let her wear her favorite purple overalls, seeing as it was such a special occasion. The solemnity of the moment was overwhelming. She gripped Dean's hand resolutely, determined to be the goodest hunter ever.

Just then, a little old grandma type appeared suddenly from behind one of the massive wardrobes, as if she'd materialized out of thin air. "Well, hello there!" she said warmly, even sounding grandmotherly. "And what can I do for you fine gentlemen today?" she gushed, clasping her plump hands together. But before either brother could say a word, her eyes zeroed in on Natalie. "Aww, aren't you precious!" she cooed, putting her hands on her thighs and leaning down so she could see Natalie better. Dean felt Natalie take a step in towards his leg nervously for protection. She wasn't exactly shy, but she took a moment to warm up to strangers. He squeezed her hand reassuringly.

"What's your name, precious?" the sweet saleslady asked. Natalie quickly looked up at Dean. She wasn't allowed to talk to strangers without his permission. He looked down at her and winked once, so she knew she was okay, but she was still feeling pretty shy.

"Natalie," she half whispered, ducking behind Dean's hand, suddenly incredibly nervous about talking to this lady.

"Well, aren't you adorable! Would you like a strawberry candy?" the lady asked, pulling a crystal dish off the nearest counter. Well, the saleslady said the magic word- candy. All shyness forgotten, Natalie's eyes lit up and she came out from behind Dean's hand eagerly. "Is it okay for her to have one?" the lady asked.

Slightly annoyed that he hadn't really been given an option to say no- how the hell was he going to tell Natalie she had to behave AND she couldn't have candy?- Dean slapped on a smile. "Why not," he said jovially. The lady took great care picking one out of the crystal candy dish and holding it out to the little girl.

Without letting go of Dean's hand, Natalie took a couple steps forward and gingerly took the proffered treat. "Thank you!" she said sweetly, remembering the manners that Sam had tried so hard to instill in her. She darted back to Dean's side, suddenly shy again.

Apparently, that was the cutest thing that had ever happened in the history of the world, judging by the older woman's reaction. "She is just PRECIOUS!" the lady squeaked, placing the dish back onto the desk from whence it came and clapping her soft hands together once. "How old is she?"

"She's four. Thanks for the candy. We're actually here on official business, ma'am," Dean said, wanting to get through this quickly. Despite his cavalier attitude earlier and his desire to appear nonchalant, he was almost as nervous as Sam about having Natalie on the job with them. It had only been four years ago that this kind of thing had been unthinkable- having a child in the midst of the supernatural world. He was still in shock every time he realized he was responsible for this little wiggling ball of energy and light that followed him around everywhere he went. And even though having a kid in the middle of a hunter's life wasn't something he had ever thought would work, after meeting her, he wouldn't have it any other way. But he still had a job to do, right here and now.

Upon hearing that the tall, handsome boys were actually here on official business, the lady clasped her hands to her heart. "Oh my- is something wrong? Are you policemen?" she asked anxiously.

"No, no, we're actually FBI," Sam said, as he and Dean pulled out their badges in tandem. He noticed Natalie watching them carefully out of his periphery. "Are you Mrs. Harbour?" he continued.

After examining Sam's badge closely, the lady nodded, clearly shaken. "Yes, that's me. What's this all about?" she asked in a soft, squeaky tone that clearly spoke to her nerves.

Tucking his badge back into his jacket pocket, Dean spoke up. "We just want to ask you a few questions about an item that might have been sold from this shop. Is that alright?"

"Of course, I'm happy to help," Mrs. Habour said anxiously. Just then, Natalie dropped her hand out of Dean's, clearly interested in getting to the candy inside the shiny red wrapper. Dean saw the confusion on Mrs. Harbour's face when she realized that an FBI officer had brought a four-year-old on the job.

"Take your daughter to work day," Dean said casually by way of an explanation. Before they could get too much farther on the topic, Dean reached down and took Natalie's hand again. She pinched her lips at having her candy unwrapping be disturbed, but she knew she needed to be good right now. "We're just going to take a look around, if that's okay," he said, nodding quickly at Sam.

"Of course, Agent," Mrs. Harbour said. "Please be careful- you can see we're pretty full up here," she called out as Dean retreated down a narrow aisle, the kid in tow.

As soon as he heard Sam start asking Mrs. Habour questions, Dean subtly pulled the EMF detector from his pocket. One quick glance down at his daughter, and he saw that she was once again absorbed in trying to open her strawberry candy. She finally untwisted the top, shoved the wrapper into her pocket, and popped the candy in her little mouth. She looked up at Dean delightedly, but when she saw the EMF detector, her eyes got even wider with excitement. She knew what that thingy was!

Before she could loudly announce her joy at the detector, Dean quickly put his finger to his lips, reminding her that she needed to be quiet and be good. She nodded eagerly, understanding his silent instructions. As Dean carefully made his way through the labyrinth of antiques, she followed him closely, keeping a sharp eye out for ghosts. They could be ANYWHERE. She HAD to find it, no matter what. However, after about two minutes, she got bored, as four year olds do.

Suddenly, a crystal music box sitting on top of an antique writing desk caught her eye. It was so pretty! She had to know, right then, if there was any treasure in it. She was pretty convinced that there was. She pulled herself up onto the rickety woven chair next to the desk in a squatting position, and oh so carefully stood up, not wanting to fall over. She reached out and was just able to grab the box by the tip of her fingers. It was dusty- very dusty. It made her nose itchy, but she had something much bigger on her mind. Very carefully, she opened up the lid of the crystal box.

She was disappointed to find that there was no treasure inside. But it did play music! The tinny, broken, tinkly sound was pretty. She didn't know the song, but it was still cool. It was a shame there was no treasure in the box, though. Thinking to remedy that, she pulled the sucked-on strawberry candy out of her mouth and put it into the box. There! That way, the next person that found it would get candy for a treasure. She was so smart.

She closed the lid, causing the music to stop. However, at that moment, her nose, itchy with dust, started to get the better of her. She sneezed hard- and suddenly dropped the box.

Out of nowhere, Dean's hand reached out and managed to snatch the crystal music box inches from the floor. Setting it down quickly, he turned and hauled Natalie up in his arms in one easy movement. "Hey- what did I tell you about sticking close to me?" he asked the little girl, quietly but very sternly.

She immediately cowered in his arms at his tone, knowing that she had been a bad hunter. "M'sorry, Daddy," she apologized quietly. "I wanted to see if the glass box had treasure in it. I'm sorry I was bad," she said sadly, knowing that she was supposed to be on her best behavior.

Dean saw the conviction on her face, and his heart relented. With a sigh, he pulled her in and kissed her temple. "Alright, squirt, just don't do it again. I know it's hard to not touch around here." He looked around at the room, realizing all over again how difficult this was going to be for all of them. There really wasn't any other option if he wanted to get this done quickly. He looked back at his daughter, staring at him with her large green eyes, begging for another chance to prove that she was good.

"Listen up," he said. "Why don't you just walk around and see if you can find anything weird? Don't touch things, in case they're cursed or something. But you look around with your hunting eyes, and then if you find anything, you come back and tell me, okay? But no touching," he said, emphasizing his last words.

Eager to prove herself, Natalie nodded vigorously. "Yes, sir! I'll look for…" she suddenly dropped her voice low and leaned into him, putting her hand to the side of her mouth like she was about to whisper a secret. "…cold spots, okay?" She looked intently at him, like she was willing him to understand what she REALLY meant by cold spots.

Smothering a grin, Dean nodded back seriously. "Sounds like a good plan. But don't touch ANYTHING. Got it?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Scoot." She hastened to obey. Dean watched her carefully navigate her way around a corner. He knew that if Sam knew what he had just done, he'd go berserk. But he knew Natalie better than Sam gave him credit for. Yes, she was four, yes, she got distracted easily, and yes, she wasn't always the best judge of whether something was breakable or not. But Dean could practically feel the importance of the case rolling off of her, even if she didn't fully understand it. She understood what being a hunter meant, and that was enough for him. He knew she wouldn't touch anything again, especially after being sent on her own little mission in the midst of the hunt. He needed to get this done quickly, and letting the kid explore on her own would help that happen. He kept trying to convince himself of that as he focused back on the EMF detector in his hand.

Natalie, however, was living right up to his expectations just one furniture maze pathway over. She shoved her hands resolutely into her pockets, determined to obey and not touch, not even when she saw a lovely silver candelabra or a super old book that looked like it came from Bobby's house. She deliberately blew her breath out in a whoosh right in front of her, waiting to see if it turned into fog like when it was cold out, because that might mean that there were ghosts. She was slightly disappointed to see that it didn't, but she wound herself deeper and deeper into the maze, determined to find the cold spots.

Finally, she noticed a rather high stack of end tables, just balanced on top of each other. With all the other furniture crammed around it, she couldn't see around it, but she could definitely see through all the table legs. There seemed to be a whole section behind it that wasn't easy to access to the public. She knew what she had to do.

She immediately flattened out on her belly on the floor and wriggled her way underneath the lowest table. She was just able to make it through due to her tiny stature, but the furniture back here seemed even more unstable. She only rose enough to get onto her hands and knees, and began crawling through the secret labyrinth, convinced that she was on the path to finding the ghost.

Meanwhile, Dean had been making his way to the front of the store, picking back up on the conversation that Sam was having with the lady who owned the place. His ears perked up on the slight rise of intensity in his brother's voice, and he knew Sam was onto something. He walked around the corner, trying not to look too obvious about his eavesdropping.

"And when did you get that shipment in?" Sam was asking Mrs. Habour. His eyes darted over to the Dean quickly when he saw that his brother was there, but he just as quickly refocused on the saleslady. If the timelines matched up, this could be the clue they were looking for.

"Well let me see now, that must have been…about three months ago, I think it was. It was the most beautiful estate- such a shame that its owner died so tragically," Mrs. Habour said, shaking her head at the memory. However, that memory was exactly what the boys were waiting to hear.

"How did the owner die?" Dean asked bluntly, butting into the conversation. Before she could answer, however, a lamp perched precariously on top of a large bureau behind them swayed alarmingly. Mrs. Harbour turned around quickly at the noise. The Winchesters instantly reached for their guns, but didn't pull them out. Objects suddenly moving for no reason- they knew what that was. However, instead of the lamp flying at them, it steadied itself, just in time for a stack of old records on a Biedermere sideboard to slide off and to the floor. Then the wooden chairs stacked on top of each other next to the sideboard gave a nudge forward. Sam's tension was palpable- was the ghost moving the furniture right in front of them?- but Dean cleared his throat, embarrassed, and swiftly made his way over towards the large steamer trunk next to the chairs.

With one quick motion, he reached behind the trunk, and instead of coming up with ectoplasm, he hauled up a little girl. She was dangling by the back straps of her purple overalls in his hand. As if she weighed nothing, and it was of no consequence to find a four year old crawling through an antique store, Dean gently set Natalie down on the floor on all fours, turned, and looked back at the confused shopkeeper and his suddenly furious brother.

"You were saying?" he asked nonchalantly in a light voice.

Mrs. Harbour's eyes darted between the FBI agents and the little girl, who was now sitting up like a puppy, but watching her intently for her answer. Instead of answering the agents, she leaned down towards Natalie.

"I don't know if you've seen them yet, precious, but back there?" She pointed towards the back left section of the store. "There's a whole section of vintage toys back there that you can play with. Do you want to go do that?"

Natalie instantly sprang to her feet and looked at Dean for permission. He thought it over for a moment- maybe it would be better for her to be able to focus on playing so she didn't accidently knock anything else over. He nodded at her once. She turned her attention back to Mrs. Harbour briefly, just long enough to spit out "Thank you!" and dart away.

Sam, however, was less than pleased. "Natalie, be careful," he called out warningly, before he realized that Mrs. Harbour wouldn't understand why he would be scolding his PARTNER'S daughter. As if to make matters instantly worse, Natalie called back.

"I will, Unca Sam!"

"'Uncle' Sam?" Mrs. Harbour couldn't help but ask. "Is she your niece? Are you two brothers? I didn't realize that they let brothers work together in the FBI," she said, sounding suddenly suspicious.

"No, we're not brothers," Dean said, almost tripping over his words in his haste to offer an explanation. "We're…um…"

"She called me that because…" Sam started to interrupt, but couldn't come up with anything that was even remotely useful. Dean's eyes darted around the room, desperately searching for inspiration, when his eyes landed on a vintage World War Two bonds poster. He snapped his fingers and pointed at it.

"Because of THAT," he said, finishing Sam's sentence. Mrs. Harbour swung around to see the picture of 'Uncle Sam' pointing forward, his tall red, white and blue top hat gleaming. Dean shrugged casually. "We have a poster like that down at headquarters, and she saw it and thought it was hilarious, and the next person she saw after reading that poster was him, so she started calling him 'Uncle Sam', and she hasn't stopped since," he babbled on and on, not quite sure what he was saying. "It's just a nickname. She loves it. He loves it. We all…love it." He caught a look on his brother's face that clearly said SHUT UP NOW.

However, Mrs. Harbour looked at the poster for another moment, then burst out into giggles. "Oh, that's ADORABLE!" she gushed again, clapping her plump hands together. "Such a clever little girl, and she must really love her 'Uncle Sam'!" she said, tilting her head and gazing at Sam adoringly. He fidgeted and nodded once, still not believing that Dean's lame excuse had actually worked.

"Yes, she does, and uh…I do too. So you were saying about how the previous owner had passed?" Sam said, trying to look professional and praying that he wasn't turning beet red like he thought he probably was.

"Oh! Oh my, yes," Mrs. Harbour said, returning to the grim subject at hand. "It was the strangest thing. No one can quite figure out exactly how it happened, not even the police, but rumor has it that he was found with a screwdriver stabbed into his back."

"I'm sorry, did you say…a screwdriver?" Sam asked, perplexed.

"That's what they're saying," the sweet lady said, nodding her head. "But they still have no leads- no idea who did it at all," she finished, wringing her hands together as the talk of this made her nervous. Just then, from the back left corner of the store, came a crash, causing the poor woman to jump a mile.

"Exxxxxcuse me," Dean said casually, avoiding Sam's eye and patting the panicking woman on the arm awkwardly. He made a beeline right for the source of the sound. A right turn, a left turn, another left around a wardrobe, and then back to the right, and he found what caused the crash. A wicker chair was lying on its side in the middle of the already too tight pathway, Natalie standing behind it innocently.

Before he could start scolding her, however, she said in an excited but trying to stay quiet voice, "Daddy, I found something!" Her eyes were lit up like Christmas trees, and she had clasped her hands together in front of her in excitement.

"I thought I told you not to touch anything, little girl," Dean interrupted, giving her The Eye. To his surprise, Natalie leaned in again, putting her hand to her mouth like she had earlier when she wanted to tell him a secret.

"I know, but I had to get your attention, and I didn't know if I could find the cold spot again if I left," she whispered, looking right and left to make sure she wasn't being heard on her secret covert mission. She pointed to the chair. "See? I salted it first to make sure it wasn't cursed or nothing." Sure enough, Dean could see the salt granules both on and around the chair, decorating the floor. He gritted his teeth and prayed that salt wouldn't mess up this antique.

He righted the chair, trying to brush some of the salt off at the same time. He wasn't quite sure how to approach this. Natalie had disobeyed him, but she had what was, for a four year old, a pretty good reason. And if she was right and had found the piece they were looking for…

"Okay. Show me where the cold spot is," Dean said gruffly. She immediately whipped around and squeezed herself through a small opening between a coffee table and another large trunk plastered with colorful stickers from around the world, trying to be as stealth ninja as possible. Luckily, his long legs enabled him to just step OVER the coffee table blocking his path, and he carefully followed her. She finally pointed to a small, carved box tucked into the back corner of the room.

"There!" she said, pointing again for emphasis. "The air all around the toy box is cold, Daddy!" Dean didn't say anything- he just pulled the EMF detector back out of his pocket. Sure enough, the second he turned it on, it lit up like the Fourth of July.

"Natalie, get behind me," he said quietly, but with authority. She scrambled to obey, jumping behind his legs as instructed, but peering around them, waiting to see what would happen. Dean leaned in just enough to feel the cold waves radiating from the box. Without a second thought, he yanked Natalie up into his arms, and quickly walked away from the area.

Stepping back over the coffee table while keeping a firm grip on his daughter, he began questioning her. "Did you see what was in the box?"

Natalie nodded vigorously. "I did! It was a bunch of old toys. There was a sailboat that was wood and a bunch of the toy guys in the red jackets and the tall black hats…"

"Like the guards at Buckingham Palace?"

"What's Bucking-ham Palace?"

"Never mind. What else?"

"There was a doll, and some doll clothes, and a wooden train, and a tea set," she answered confidently. In spite of the fact that he was nervous about his daughter being so close to something that was possibly haunted, and still a bit miffed with her for knocking over the chair, he had to grin. Her memory was impeccable. That was going to come in handy when she became a full time hunter.

He didn't want to ruin her "hunting" moment by scolding her for knocking over the chair, so he decided to let it go- just this once. He pulled her in and whispered in her ear, "Looks like we got a haunted toy box, huh?"

She gasped dramatically, and leaned back from him to look him full in the face. "That's it! Wow. That's freaky," she commented, as if a haunted toy box was nothing to be scared of. Dean chuckled, shaking his head a bit. This kid was something else.

She wiggled impatiently. "I should check to see if there's other cold spots, Daddy," she said insistently, pushing against him and trying to wriggle out of his grasp. However, he pulled her in closer.

"Nope, done with that, squirt," he said, not wanting to let her down and risk getting lost in the labyrinth again. She huffed once and wriggled some more, but before she could say anything, Dean looked at her sternly before pulling her in even tighter. "What did I just say?" he murmured firmly in her ear. She settled down instantly, wrapping her arms around his neck and putting her head on his shoulder instead, letting the fight go out of her. He felt bad, but she had to learn to listen, especially when he had just let her get away with the chair. He rubbed her back a bit as they headed towards the front of the store.

"You did good back there, kiddo," he complimented her quietly. She instantly bounced back up, but kept her arms wrapped around his neck.

"I did?" she asked, wide eyed. He nodded.

"Damn straight. You found what we were looking for."

"Does this mean I'm a hunter now?"

Dean thought a moment. "Let's call you a hunting 'intern'."

"What's that mean?"

"Ask your Uncle Sam when we get back to the motel."

"Okay!"

They rounded the corner, back to where Sam was finishing up with Mrs. Harbour. Dean carefully slid Natalie to the floor before reaching into his pocket and withdrawing a business card.

"Here you go," he said, handing it to the lady. "Give us a buzz if anything happens, or if you hear of anything else."

Mrs. Harbour took the card with a grateful nod. "I absolutely will. Thank you gentlemen for being so kind. Was anything broken back there when you went to get the little girl?" she asked anxiously. "She wasn't hurt, was she?" Sam looked at Dean questioningly, wanting to know the answer as well.

Dean shook his head. "No, she didn't break anything. Just accidently knocked over a chair. There wasn't any damage. Sorry- you know how kids are."

Mrs. Harbour smiled and nodded indulgently. "Oh, I do. I definitely do." She looked around. "Where did that little angel get off to now?"

Dean suddenly looked around himself. Natalie was nowhere to be seen. What the hell?! She had just been next to him five seconds ago. Little monster. All three adults turned on the spot, looking for any trace of where she could have gotten to, when Dean's eyes suddenly landed on a large bureau that looked like it could have been pulled straight from a C.S. Lewis novel. With a knowing sigh, he headed over to it and opened the doors. He reached in and withdrew the giggling child who had managed to give all of them the slip and climb into a piece of furniture that was probably worth more than a college tuition.

Making sure he had a firm grip on the little demon, he quietly closed the bureau doors, gave one more nod to Mrs. Harbour, and made a beeline for the door. Once the three Winchesters were safely outside, Dean turned to Sam, a pleased look on his face.

"Well, I think that went pretty damn well, don't you?"

Sam couldn't make a bitch face big enough.