Greetings, o Fabulous SPN Family! I hope your day is great, your weather is bright, and your beer is cold :)
This two-part story is inspired by a couple things- some of you have asked for Natalie getting into trouble, and this is also inspired by a passage in the book 'John Winchester's Journal'. This story in the middle of the journal really got to me. The book is a great read, although not ENTIRELY accurate due to the fact that it was written somewhere around season 6, I believe, and they've added eight glorious years to the story since then. Personally, I'd like to see the show go to season 85- The Nursing Home Years, but I digress.
Special thanks to Jenmm31, because she is the best. If you haven't, you need to go check out her stories, especially her Emily and Kate stories. She's a brilliant writer, and the only reason I was able to publish in the first place.
Thanks to all of you who have stuck with me. Thanks for being my family.
A/N- this is part one of a two part story. Natalie is 8.
His green eyes flicked down to the gas meter. Nearly empty. Dean gritted his teeth and looked down the road ahead. Seemed to be a gas station coming up- perfect.
He had been so focused on the hunt that he was forgetting little things lately- like making sure they didn't run out of gas and that people liked to eat- things like that. There was something about this case that was pressing on him. Maybe it was because it hit close to home.
Apparently, Crowley had made the rounds in this particular town about ten years ago, and now people were being torn apart left and right like old bank statements. Between despising Crowley and his hatred of hellhounds, Dean felt more stressed on this case than he had in a very long time. Not to mention- there was only so much goofer dust in the world- and with people being scared of their contracts finally running out, it was getting harder and harder to find these people before the dogs did. They were only running at about a fifty percent success rate of even finding people so far with no signs of slowing down. The fact that the contracts were virtually unbreakable also severely decimated their successes as well. Those numbers did not sit well with the oldest Winchester.
Dean had been re-reading John's journal for the umpteenth time. His father had been an expert at black dogs and hellhounds, on top of absolutely everything else. One of his father's first cases had been a hellhound, so there was quite a bit that John said about it in his journal. Between that, all the people they'd lost, and Dean's own personal experience with hellhounds, yeah, he was having a bad week.
He nearly missed the turn off into the gas station, so lost in thought was he, but he twisted the wheel at the last second, throwing both his brother and his daughter violently to the right. "Geez, Dean," Sam complained. "Wanna take it easy on the turns, man?"
Dean just shook his head as if trying to clear it. "Shut up," he grumbled, still not quite able to shake the memory of the hellhounds' claws in his chest. His eyes flicked to the rearview mirror. "You okay, squirt?"
His eight-year-old daughter was pulling herself back up to a sitting position from the sudden crash against the door. "Yeah, I'm fine." Her adjusting made Dean's eyes narrow.
"You wearing your seatbelt?" he asked sternly, trying to keep one eye on her and one on the gas pump so he didn't crash into it. She nodded back vigorously.
"Yes, sir." It was mandatory that if you were in Baby and she was rolling, you had your seatbelt on. That lesson had been learned when she was four, and she never forgot it. All the same, after Dean pulled up next to the pump, his ears were listening for the tell tale "click" of her belt coming unfastened. The kid couldn't sit still for long, so the second Baby would STOP moving, she was usually the first one out of the car.
True to form, as soon as Dean had shut the ignition off, Natalie unbuckled and threw her arms over the front seat. "Can I help you?" she asked excitedly, loving when Dean let her help pump gas.
He gave a little snort of amusement. "No, kiddo, you stay put. Make sure Uncle Sam behaves himself."
"C'mon! Can't I wash the windows or something? Please? I've been stuck in the car all day."
It wasn't like Dean to give into her pleas, but she had a point. They had let her come on the case with them, mostly because with the uneasy feeling he had been having in this town, Dean didn't like having his daughter out of his sight. However, having an eight year old tagging along with the FBI was a bit difficult to explain, so she'd stayed in the car with the windows open while they were questioning people and collecting evidence; she'd at least been in close proximity.
Natalie was delighted that she sort of got to be a part of the action- more so than staying in the motel room, anyways. She hadn't complained once, and she'd been in the car for over an hour this past time, diligently working on her schoolwork and reading up on rugarus alternately. Since she'd been so well behaved, he relented.
"Fine. You can do the windows. But God help you if you leave streaks," he said in his 'serious but I'm really teasing you' voice. She giggled at his playful words, leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek.
"Thanks Dad!" she squealed before rocketing herself out of the car. God he was a sucker when she did stuff like that. He wanted to yell after her to watch for cars, but he bit his tongue. She was eight- she knew. He pulled himself out of the driver's side and went over to the pump, keeping one eye on the feisty little ball of energy wrestling the window washing wand out of the old plastic container/trash can next to the pump while he swiped his credit card. As he twisted the gas cap off and inserted the nozzle, he tried not to chuckle as he watched her meticulously clean Baby's back window. She was tall enough that she could reach most of it fairly easily, but the middle section was still a struggle. He watched as she stretched out her arm as far as it could go, as if by sheer will she could make her arm grow the couple extra inches she was missing to hit the center of the window.
"Need some help, there, squirt?"
"I can do it," she answered back stubbornly. His smile twisted as he once again attempted to not laugh outright at his child. God she was so pigheaded when she wanted to be. It was amusing and alarming all at the same time. She had every ounce of Winchester tenacity that both he and Sam possessed with plenty of piss and vinegar to go with it. Then she could turn around and be a sparkling little angel in the blink of an eye. Go figure.
After watching her struggle for the entire length of time it took to fill up the tank, Dean finally put the nozzle back into the holder, reached over, and plucked the wand out of her hand. She whipped around, annoyed, but didn't say anything as, with a couple of easy swipes, Dean finished off this side of the window. He walked over to the other side and made quick work of it as well, not wanting to waste any more time on this when they had a case to attend to. Natalie watched him with narrowed eyes, but still kept her mouth shut.
He dropped the wand back into the broken plastic container with a wet thunk, and turned to his still glowering daughter. "You'll get it next time, squirt," he said bracingly. She pinched her lips and folded her arms, looking away. Dean rolled his eyes. Of course, now she was pissed. How was she having this many mood swings already? She was only eight.
"I'm gonna go grab some snacks. Wanna come pick something out that's gonna make your uncle go ballistic?" he said in an attempt to lighten the moment. It worked. Her gaze flicked over to him. She couldn't hide the laughter inside of her eyes at Dean's words. She dropped her arms and the bitch face simultaneously, restored to her usual happy self.
"Can I just walk around a little? I'll stay in the lot, I promise," she said, tilting her head and giving him her best puppy dog eyes. He just rolled his own eyes again. Damn Sam for teaching her that look. He finally acquiesced.
"Fine. Stay close, stay out of trouble, got it?" he said, looking her right in the eye. She nodded vigorously.
"Yes sir!" she chirped excitedly. Just then, Sam opened his own car door, causing both father and daughter's glances to swing to him.
Sam exited the car, his phone pressed to his ear. "Hey Bobby- what you got?" he asked as he made eye contact with Dean, who nodded back approvingly. Having a phone call from Bobby was a God send- maybe he had found a way to knock out all the crossroads contracts at once. Wishful thinking, but what the hell. Dean turned on his heel and headed towards the tiny beat-up store attached to the pumps.
Natalie darted over to Sam upon realizing that Bobby was on the other end of the line. She really wanted to say hi, but she knew that hunting came first, especially when there might be a break in the case. It didn't stop her from jumping up and down and waving at Sam to get his attention, but she didn't make a sound. Sam chuckled good-naturedly and winked at her, letting her know that he'd tell Bobby she said hi.
Satisfied, she turned and started walking towards the farthest part of the gas station lot. She'd stay on the property, but she'd get every inch out of it that she could before having to go back and sit in the stuffy motel room while Sam and Dean pored over their case. She inhaled deeply, trying to ignore the scents of gasoline and road dust and focus on the sunshine and the mostly-fresh air. A large car parked along the side of the lot drew her attention, but then she saw what was behind it. The driver had apparently set up shop here, portraying a vast array of very colorful "roadside art"- tigers and barbarian women and skulls in screaming neon colors, all on large black canvases, blowing in the wind. Dazzled by the bright colors and subject matter, Natalie trotted over to them to check them out.
*SPN SPN SPN*
Dean stuffed the just-purchased sticks of beef jerky and bags of skittles into his jacket pocket and headed out the derelict door of the gas station. Fuel for him, his kid, his brother, and his Baby. Now if he could just get a damn break in this case, life could be good again. At a glance, Sam was still on the phone with Bobby. Whatever he had found had obviously been good enough to keep Sam on the phone this long. He scanned the lot for his daughter.
The first thing he saw was the artwork- terrible, tacky, flapping in the wind. The next thing he saw was the large black car. And then he saw his kid talking to the driver, who was leaning against the car's frame.
The Black Seville- missed the twelve pointer- Sammy- the gunshot echoed- such a failure- Sammy wasn't safe- being followed- what if I missed- Sammy…Sammy…Sammy…
The horrific memory from so long ago that Dean had stuffed down for the last twenty plus years suddenly came boiling to the surface with all the rage of the ages behind it. He could literally feel his blood churning, the pit of his stomach dropping through the soles of his shoes, and his lungs tightening up.
The sound of Dad's voice- he was so mad…because I failed again.
The burning shame that would never go away from that memory roared in his face, not caring that it had been well over twenty years ago. It was like it was all happening over again, right here, right now. He wasn't going to make the same mistake again, Dad. Not this time.
Dean set off across the parking lot like he was on fire. He had to get to his kid before…he didn't even want to think it. Natalie heard his approach and turned to him with a smile, but that quickly dissipated and turned to fear when she saw the unexpected look of fury on his face.
Dean stepped right up to the man leaning against the Black Seville and shoved his daughter behind himself. "What the FUCK do you think you're doing?!" he roared in rage, right into the man's surprised face. "You just set up shop at gas stations and lure little kids into talking to you, you sick bastard?!" he screamed, turning bright red as his blood pressure soared. The man's jaw dropped in surprise at suddenly being called a pedophile at a thousand decibels from a dude he'd never seen up until this moment.
"No, Dad, he…" Natalie began. But Dean wasn't interested. He turned his head only enough to spit out the words in her direction; he wasn't taking his eyes off this asshole.
"Shut it," he barked at her, before turning his fury back on the man.
"Whoa, whoa, buddy, you got it all wrong," the man said, holding up his hands and looking alarmed at Dean's rage. "I'm just a vendor here-"
"So what the hell were you doing talking to a little kid, you sick freak?!"
"Hey man, she approached me!"
Sammy approached him- the gunshot rang out- my hands looked different- it was my fault.
Dean could barely turn his head to look at his child; the veins in his neck were so engorged with adrenaline and anger. In a thick, incredulous voice, he managed to spit out, "You talked to him first?"
Natalie, unsure of why Dean was so upset, cowered a bit, but tried bravely to answer. "I…I just liked the pictures, and-"
"DID YOU TALK TO HIM FIRST?!"
"Well…I…y-yes, sir."
Dean's fury broke over her like a tidal wave of epic proportions. "HOW MANY TIMES HAVE I TOLD YOU NOT TO TALK TO STRANGERS?!" he roared, spit flying from his mouth. Natalie's eyes got wider than he'd ever seen them get, and she stammered to speak, but he didn't want to hear it. "NO- DON'T EVEN TRY IT! HOW THE HELL COULD YOU HAVE DONE SOMETHING SO STUPID?!" Natalie's face turned pale in the wake of the furious tsunami being poured onto her. Dean had never yelled at her like this before- he'd never called her stupid. She felt her insides turn to ice.
However, before Dean could eviscerate her further, Sam came out of nowhere and grabbed his brother by the shoulder, putting one hand on his chest and gently shoving Dean backwards, away from both Natalie and the man. "Dean!" Sam shouted right into his face. Dean was so apoplectic that he didn't even hear Sam at first- he was ready to let loose another round on his kid. "DEAN!" Sam yelled again. That shook Dean enough to change his focus and snap him out of this haze. In his blinding rage, a tiny part of his brain wondered how Sam was suddenly in his face, but he didn't really care. He had to stop this- he had to save her- he had almost lost Sammy….
"This isn't what you think it is," Sam said, in a calm but firm tone. He shook Dean's shoulder a little, trying to fully snap his brother out of this. "This isn't what you think it is," he repeated emphatically. Dean blinked a couple times, and enough sense came back to him for him to realize he'd been pushing against Sam's hold, the instinct to fight, to kill, driving him. Sam felt Dean stop shoving against him, and took the opportunity to gently push Dean another step backwards. He had to get him out of this situation.
However, Dean wasn't so calmed that he was finished. He pointed at the man. "You stay away from kids, got it? And if I ever see you near my daughter again, I will put a bullet through the backside of your brain, YOU HEAR ME?!" Sam's strong hand pushed against his chest again, warning him to take a step back. Dean's furious gaze snapped to Natalie, who was looking so pale that she might faint. "Get in the car, NOW!" he roared at her. His rage and anger made her want to freeze, but her survival instinct kicked in, and without another word, she lit off for the Impala.
Sam gritted his teeth. He knew Natalie had never seen Dean like this- had never had his anger directed at her like that before. He could take care of her later, but what was important was that he got Dean out of this situation before he could do something irreversibly stupid. "Come on man, let's go," he said low into his brother's ear. Dean shook off Sam's hands irritably, and spun on his heel to leave.
"Psycho," they both heard the man behind them mutter. Dean instantly whipped back around and started thundering back towards the man, ready to kill.
"Whoa, whoa!" Sam said, darting forward and putting himself between them. He pushed on Dean's chest again, but Dean wasn't stopping. Sam wrapped his arms around Dean's chest and dug in, giving Dean enough of a fight to slow his steps down.
Pulling one arm out of Sam's vice grip on him, Dean thrust his warning finger out at the man again as he struggled against Sam's hold. "YOU STAY THE FUCK AWAY FROM KIDS, YOU HEAR ME?!" he screamed. "YOU LEAVE THEM ALONE!" The man, who wasn't feeling as cavalier as he would have liked to think he looked, shook his head as if to reinforce the name he'd called Dean earlier, and opened the door of the Black Seville to escape to the safety of the interior. The creak of the car door rang in Dean's ears.
The Black Seville- it happened on my watch- could have lost him- my fault- Sammy….
Lost in the terror of his memories, Dean didn't feel Sam pushing him backwards again. He became cognizant that Sam was muttering something to him. It took a few moments for him to realize what it was.
"It's not him, Dean. It's not Anderson. Okay? It's not him. You took him out a long time ago. Natalie's safe- I'm safe. It's not what you think it is, Dean." Still half stumbling with rage, Dean let Sam pull and push him back towards the Impala. Ever fiber of his being wanted to pull out his .45 and fill the Black Seville full of bullet holes, but for some reason, he knew that wouldn't fly, so he let Sam keep leading him. All he could really hear again were the echoes of one of the worst days of his life in his memory.
My fault…could have lost him…he believed the deer was going to hurt him…."Sam is special"…bits of Silas all over the kitchen…Sammy….
"Dean, this happened on your watch. What the hell were you thinking?!"
"Dad, I'm sorry- I didn't see…"
"Because you weren't paying attention, boy. How many times have I told you, Sammy is your responsibility? YOURS to keep safe? HOW MANY TIMES, DEAN?!"
"I'm s-sorry…"
"Do you know what could have happened today? To the both of you? All because you weren't paying attention? Maybe after I punish you this time, the lesson will stick."
Sam had gotten Dean back to the Impala. A quick look in the back window told him that Natalie had gotten in and was sitting quietly, waiting for them. His heart lurched when he thought about the damage control he was going to have to do, but right now it was all about getting Dean out of there. He took his brother by the shoulders and gave him a little shake.
"Dean- you okay man? You need to breathe. Everything's fine. Natalie's safe, okay? She's in the car." At that, Dean snapped out of his trance long enough to jerk his head towards the window and see her for himself. But he didn't say anything. Sam tried to speak gently again. "Why don't I drive us back?"
That got Dean's attention again, but in a very, very wrong way. He shot Sam a death look, shoved his brother away from him, and yanked the driver's side door open, then pointed to Sam's side. "Get in," he barked out. Sam just heaved a sigh, nodded his head once and held up both hands to indicate to Dean that he wasn't going to argue, and made his way towards the passenger's side.
As both Winchesters slid into the car, Natalie twisted her hands together nervously in the backseat. She knew Dean was pissed at her- he had every right to be. She didn't mean to talk to strangers- it just kind of accidentally happened. But that wasn't going to fly with her father.
"Dad?" she said quietly once Dean was in the car. "I'm really sorry-"
Dean twisted in his seat so fast it was almost like his torso became unscrewed from his legs. He pointed a warning finger in her face. "I don't want to hear it. I don't wanna hear another word from you until I get you back to the motel." Without waiting for an answer, he whirled around again, jammed the key into the ignition, and peeled out of the gas station.
The apology stuck in Natalie's throat. Shit shit SHIT. He was going to kill her. A tiny part of her brain wondered why he was getting so radically upset over this. She had gotten in trouble before, but never had Dean flown off the handle like this. However, she was still too cowed in terror to really analyze it further.
Dean made record time back to the motel. All three of them had remained silent on the journey. Sam knew that to try to diffuse Dean right now would be pointless, so he kept his mouth shut. He did practice the few things he intended to say to his brother when they got back to the motel, all in his head, of course.
Dean screeched to a halt in a spot that was right in front of their room. Before either Sam or Natalie could move, Dean had thrown off his belt buckle and launched himself out of the car, stalking towards the door. The silence on the drive home had done nothing but further his resolve to not let this happen again. Unbidden, another bit of memory flashed through his troubled brain.
The man wouldn't stop. He wouldn't stop until Sammy was dead. He said that Sam had been the one to kill Silas- had been the one to tear that poor man to pieces. He said Sam was a monster that he had to kill. The Black Seville had been following all of them. The man had had two opportunities to take Sammy out- he wouldn't miss the third. And he was coming right at them.
The moment had been so horribly etched into Dean's memory that he could still taste the bile in his twelve-year-old throat. It had almost happened to Sam- he couldn't- he WOULDN'T let it happen to Natalie. The fear, the rage at both the man and at her were warring in him, pushing his anger higher and higher until he felt like Mount Vesuvius, ready to erupt. She knew better. She KNEW better. There was only so much he could do if she was going to put herself in another dangerous situation, like Sammy had. And that's what he had to stop at all costs. He couldn't lose her. He had to drive this lesson home at all costs.
He turned to see her climbing meekly out of the car, half hiding behind Sam. That wasn't going to cut it. "March," he growled at her, throwing the door to the room open. He saw her eyes pop with fear again and dart over to her uncle as if to ask what she should do. But she had been given a direct order- and here she was again, not listening. "NOW!" Dean hollered. She practically ran past him into the motel room. He turned his fury on his little brother, still dawdling by the car. "Move it," he snarled, holding the door open wider. Sam's eyes stretched a bit at the tone, but rather than anger his brother further, hastened through the door as well.
The moment Sam heard Dean shut the motel door behind himself, he turned. "Dude, you need to-" Completely uninterested in what Sam had to say, Dean shoved him out of the way, cutting off his last words. He stormed over to his daughter, who sank down on the couch in fright as she saw her father thundering towards her.
"What the HELL were you thinking?" Dean roared, causing her to flinch. "You just walked right up to a strange man in a podunk piece of shit town and struck up a conversation?!"
"Dad, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to!" she said anxiously, her eyes pleading for forgiveness.
"You didn't MEAN to? You're telling me that you didn't MEAN to speak to some random guy, but yet, YA DID ANYWAYS?! Natalie Grace Winchester, I know you know better! I have taught you better! You know more than any kid your age the dangers of doing something like that! And you really mean to tell me that you just didn't MEAN to?! Do you have any idea how stupid that sounds?!"
There it was again- stupid. He thought she was stupid. Her eyes filled with tears, but rather than let him see, she just bowed her head, resigned to take the fury that was being spilled onto her. She was convinced she deserved this. She didn't deserve to look him in the eye- she had earned this. She just sat there as he continued to pour out his wrath on her.
"I can't believe that you would do this. Do you know what could have happened if that man had been following us? Or was trying to hurt or kill us? Do you realize what just talking to him could have done?! Clearly, you don't. Apparently, all the times that I've told you this- have WARNED you against this- have just been going in one ear and out the other. Is it going to take me screaming at you until I'm blue in the face to get you to listen?! You hearing me now?! Are we EVER going to have to go through this again?!"
Without raising her head, she quietly answered. "No, sir."
"We BETTER not little girl, because if we do, I'm gonna make THIS…" Dean gestured to himself, indicating the verbal lashing he was dishing out. "…look like a trip to Disneyland. Got it?!"
"Yes, sir."
"You listen to me, and do what I say, ALWAYS, no questions asked. You understand?!"
"Yes, sir."
"You better. No TV, computers, no electronic ANYTHING for a week. AND you're going to bed an hour early for a week, too. And in that entire time, you're gonna think really long and hard about never disobeying me again, and you sure as hell better think about never speaking to a stranger without me there. Clear?"
"Yes, sir."
"You ever pull a stunt like this again, and I will blister your ass so bad you won't sit for a month."
"Y-yes, sir."
"Dean." Dean's head whipped around at Sam's forceful voice. His eyes narrowed as if daring his little brother to come at him. But that last comment had been over the line, and Sam wasn't about to let Dean get away with it. "You need to calm down- you're off the rails, man."
"Really?!" Dean spat at him, focusing all his rage on Sam now. "'Cause if you remember, you're the one who I should be taking apart right now!"
Sam almost took a step back in surprise at Dean's sudden verbal swing. "What the hell does that mean?!"
"Where the fuck were you when she went off whistling Dixie and chatting up potential murderers?"
"I was on the phone with Bobby."
"On the phone with Bobby. Not giving a damn if my kid just trotted up to a BLACK SEVILLE and started answering some jackass's questions."
Sam had been suspicious about it before, but Dean's emphasis on the words 'black Seville' confirmed it. He held up his hands. "Dean- this isn't like that was. You know it. Yes, Natalie shouldn't have been talking to the man-"
"Damn straight she shouldn't have been!" Dean shot, with a nasty look at the child still quietly examining her shoes.
"But she knows. Okay? She knows. And he wasn't a hunter."
Dean shoved his finger in Sam's face. "You don't know that. You didn't know it then, and you don't know it now."
Sam's face contorted in anger. "Dean, I was seven."
"And you almost died. So shut the fuck up, because I don't want to hear any of your bullshit about me being wrong here. You BOTH know what we're up against, and if I ever find out that either of you are intentionally putting yourselves at risk because you're just not fucking listening to me, I will skin you both alive." And with that, Dean dug his keys out of his jacket pocket again and turned, heading right back for the door. "I'm going to get a drink." He whipped around and pointed at Sam again. "And neither of you are leaving this room for the rest of the night."
Sam's jaw dropped to the ground. Dean hadn't tried to…ground him since they had been kids. "You can't be serious," Sam said in utter shock.
"As a heart attack. Both of you- stay put. I don't need to be worrying about you two running amok and getting yourselves killed. Stay put." Dean snatched up a roll of duct tape from the duffle bag before heading out the door.
"DEAN!" Sam shouted after him, but he just slammed the door, ignoring his brother. Sam heard the telltale rip of the tape and knew exactly what Dean was doing. It was an old trick that John used to do to them. Put a piece of tape over the door and the wall whenever you leave a room. If someone in the room opened the door, the seal on the tape would be broken. It was impossible to re-seal the tape from the inside of the room, so the person in said room really had one choice if they didn't want that tape ripped- just stay put. When the boys had been grounded and John had been at the bar, the tape trick happened, so John could keep tabs on his sons and make sure they were obeying him.
Sam gritted his teeth, feeling the old anger flare up in him. His father's ghost had been present all day, and this just seemed to confirm it. But that anger evaporated- or at least got pushed to the side- when he looked at the eight year old little girl on the couch, desperately trying to hold herself together. He made a beeline towards her.
Stay tuned for Part Two...
