Good Evening, you gift of life. I hope you did something wonderful for yourself today- you deserve it.
Here's Part 2. I love all you people. Please tell someone that today. That person you're thinking of needs to hear it. Special thanks to my Sammy- love you.
A/N- part 2 of a 2 part story. Natalie is 8.
Dean took a deep breath. The past couple hours at the bar had only served to take the edge off his temper and make his wallet a little more empty. He had made himself walk there, knowing he was going to be doing some serious drinking tonight. But he had only been able to toss back about 3- a slow night for him when he was this angry. If his damn throat would quit closing up, he could have drunk himself under the table, but no. Life couldn't even give him that right now.
The walk back to the motel was screwing with his emotions, too. He kept hearing echoes of that day in his mind- that horrible day when he'd…the first time…And on top of that, he was now hearing the echoes of what he'd said to his child and his brother. He wasn't sorry- not entirely. They HAD to keep themselves safe. They couldn't talk to strangers. Neither one of them. Sammy…and Natalie…he couldn't lose either one of them.
He finally made it back to the motel room. It was around 10pm. Normally, Natalie would be going to bed around this time, but she knew she was being punished, so she had better have been in bed for an hour by now, or she was gonna hear about it. As he approached the door, he noticed the duct tape on the frame was still in tact. Good. They were finally starting to listen to him.
Dean ripped the tape off and unlocked the door. As he expected, Sam was sitting at the small table by the window in a small pool of lamp light, waiting for him to get back. His eyes scanned the room. Sure enough, Natalie was lying on the couch, her face turned away from the door, her blanket covering her. His eyes flicked back over to Sam. He wasn't surprised to see Sam's bitch face going full blast.
Not wanting to give him a foothold, however, Dean spoke first. "What time did you put her to bed?"
In a relatively calm, even voice, Sam answered. "She put HERSELF to bed an hour ago."
Dean nodded, pleased. Natalie was a good kid. She did what she was told. And then the reality of the day's event hit him in the face. Wait- she WAS a good kid. She always did what she was told. So how had she screwed up so badly today? What had actually happened? With another jolt, Dean suddenly realized that there wasn't any food in the room. And he had ordered them both to stay put- all night. They must have been starving by now.
"Did you eat?" he asked brusquely, half afraid of the answer. John had done this to him and Sam once, but he had never forgotten it. How could he not have thought of that before hand? Was he really that blind when he was angry? As blind as his father had been that one time?
In answer, Sam pointed to the pizza delivery box on the table. Dean nodded once, relief flooding through before it hit him. "Hang on. How did you reattach the tape on the door?" He tried to swallow down the anger that threatened to take hold with this realization and actually let Sam answer.
With an annoyed look, Sam began pulling out his phone. "First off, if you think we're not going to talk about THAT, you've got another thing coming. Second off- here." He held out his phone to Dean, who stepped forward to see the images displayed on it. The first one was a picture of the tape on the door from the outside of the room.
Dean's brow crinkled. "How did you get this picture?" he asked, confused.
"I paid the delivery lady extra to take the picture before and after she came by and text it to me. She reattached the tape after we opened the door to get the pizza." Dean checked the time that the photo was taken, and before he could ask, Sam thrust the delivery receipt in his face. The time on the photo showed that it had been taken just before the delivery. Then Sam swiped left on his phone and showed his brother again. There was the tape, reattached, about one minute after the time posted on the receipt. If he was being honest with himself, Dean would have been a little shocked and embarrassed at the lengths Sam had gone to in order to prove that they had done as he commanded. As if he was reading his brother's thoughts, Sam said, "If this doesn't prove to you that we're listening to you, then dude, I don't even know what I can do past this."
Dean rolled his jaw around with his hands on his hips, before turning back towards his brother with a begrudged sigh. "Okay, I admit it. I went overboard. Happy?"
Sam shrugged. "I'm not the one who has to live with the damage that you did today." He said it casually, but Dean knew Sam too well. He could hear the rage boiling just below the surface of his brother's voice. But he truly didn't understand the dig.
"What are you talking about?"
Sam just rolled his eyes, done with Dean's lack of ability to play catch up. He jerked his head over towards the sleeping child on the couch, then stomped towards the front door, indicating that they were about to have it out in the parking lot rather than risk waking up Natalie. Dean followed with gritted teeth. The moment they were both outside and the door was shut, Sam rounded on his brother.
"Why the hell did you yell at her like that?" Sam said hotly but low, still aware that it was ten o'clock at night and they were outside a motel. "What the hell were you trying to accomplish by tearing her a new one?"
Dean instantly got on the defensive about it all. "Sam, when I saw her talking to that asshole right next to a black fucking Seville, it brought everything right back. Anderson. The hunt. Silas. You almost getting killed. Dad tearing into the both of us, but me especially, for almost letting it happen." He looked at Sam incredulously. "You honestly expect me to just sit on my hands when today could have been a repeat of that?" Sam showed every sign of interrupting, but Dean wasn't done. "Not to mention, she knows better, Sam. She KNOWS not to talk to strangers. She knows! And she still did it anyways!"
Sam held up his hands to stem the flow of words pouring from Dean's mouth. "Dean. She told me what happened. She honestly didn't mean to talk to him."
"Don't give me that horseshit-"
"SHUT UP and listen. She went over to look at the pictures- she didn't see him there. She said something out loud about how cool they were without realizing that the guy was within earshot. He said 'thank you' and just kept talking to her. She didn't mean to talk to him, but he thought she did. She didn't want to be rude, so she just kept talking. She really didn't mean to do it- it just accidentally happened."
"Then she should have walked away from the situation! To not even notice that the dude was standing that close to her?! Is this supposed to make me feel better?!"
"She and I talked about that, too. She honestly didn't see him- she's an eight year old and there were pictures of neon tigers. What do you think she was looking at?" Without waiting for Dean to answer, Sam continued. "I asked her why she didn't just walk away when she did notice him, or when he talked to her. She was afraid of being disrespectful, because you've drilled it into her head to respect her elders in all situations. She was a kid who didn't know what to do, and thought she was doing the right thing. Long and short of it- she messed up. That's what kids do, Dean. They make mistakes."
"And what if another 'mistake' happens with a hunter who's trying to kill us? What then, Sam?"
"Dean, you have got to take a step back from that. You have to realize- THIS ISN'T ANDERSON. No one was after her. No one is after me. Yes, it all reminds you of that, and I'm not going to say it shouldn't- in one respect. That was some of the worst times of my life, too. You're not the only one reliving flash backs here today. But you cannot punish Natalie for the sins of the past. You can't treat her like Dad treated us, because it's not the same situation."
"Dad treated us like that because we deserved it, Sam."
"Really. We deserved to be eviscerated and screamed at and punished for being kids? A seven year old and an eleven year old?"
"I was twelve."
"Not the point, dude, and you know it. Dad just lit into both of us. Okay, I can admit now that I know why he yelled at me…"
"Because you shouldn't have been talking to strangers."
"Right. I get that. But he tore into you way worse."
"It happened on my watch, Sam. I was supposed to protect you."
"And you did. You stopped Anderson. You saved me- and Dad. And you still felt like you were worthless."
"What do you mean."
"I mean while Dad took you apart, I was watching as you just sat there and took it. He screamed at you for things that weren't your fault. And you believed him."
"Well, what was he supposed to do? I disobeyed orders. I deserved it."
"Dean- don't you get it? You only think you deserved it because he MADE you think you deserved it. You took that and convinced yourself that you were worthless and a failure, because Dad's words made you think you were."
Suddenly, with Sam's explanations, Dean saw the situation twisted around. Twelve-year-old Dean hadn't seen Sammy slip out to talk to the man in the Black Seville. He didn't have a clue that Sammy had climbed into the stranger's car to follow him. He didn't know that Anderson was setting up to kill his little seven-year-old brother. He hadn't known- and yet, John had somehow made him responsible. How had that happened? Dean replayed the conversation that he could never forget in his head.
"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."
It had been one of the worst yellings and punishments he'd ever gotten, but that wasn't what had stuck with him. It had been John's words- that feeling of failure- of not being good enough. It HADN'T been his fault. John had been yelling out of his own fear, out of his own feelings of failure, and had directed it on his oldest son.
Dean heard his own words from today echoed in his father's. He had misdirected his own fear onto his daughter- just like John had done to him. She hadn't meant to talk to the man- she thought she was following orders to be respectful. Dean hadn't given her a chance to explain; he himself had never gotten a chance to explain. She had taken the full force of his rage on; he had taken the full force of John's rage. He walked away from the encounter with his father feeling stupid and worthless. That meant she…
Dean felt his heart drop through his shoes. No. No no no. He had just recreated one of the worst moments of his life, and now, his daughter was reaping the consequences. All the air left his lungs and his brains turned to mush.
Sam saw the proverbial light bulb turn on in Dean's head. He watched as Dean nearly began hyperventilating upon realizing the aftermath of the situation. He reached out and grabbed his big brother by the shoulders, trying to steady him. Dean looked up at Sam, one tear sliding down his cheek.
"Sam. What have I done?"
That nearly broke Sam. He knew that Dean was going to hit the wall hard when he finally came down to earth, but hearing his big brother in so much pain- despite his own anger, it was almost more than he could take. He squeezed Dean's shoulders in an effort to console him.
"Listen. You'll be okay. Natalie is going to be okay, too. But you need to talk to her and tell her why you went off like you did. Because right now, she's…well, she's feeling-"
"That it's all her fault," Dean finished hollowly. "Like she's worthless." Sam wanted to dispute the words, but he couldn't. Dean's tortured gaze went back to the motel door. His precious daughter was just behind it, sleeping. No. He knew her. She wasn't actually sleeping- not with everything that had happened.
He charged back through the door, but made himself slow down so as not to scare her. It was physically painful to hold himself back, because all he really wanted to do was run to her, gather her in his arms, and take all the pain out of her. The pain he had put there. Finally, after an eternity, he reached the couch. He gently sat down on the edge and looked into her face. Her eyes were squeezed shut tight and she was holding onto her stuffed puppy dog with everything she had. If he hadn't known her so well, she would have totally convinced him.
"Hey kiddo. I know you're not asleep," he said in a gentle voice, so much different than the last time he had spoken to her a couple hours ago. But she didn't budge. And he knew why. "It's okay, Nat. I'm not mad that you're not asleep. I just wanna talk to you." At that, her eyes instantly flew open and she turned to look at him. The fear in her eyes was almost more than he could handle. He felt his own eyes water at the sight of it.
"Dad, I'm sorry, I was really trying to go to sleep, honest I was-" she babbled out before Dean's hand gently stroking her cheek made her words come to an abrupt halt.
"I know, kid, I know. Sam said you put yourself to bed at nine." She nodded, but didn't say anything. "Thank you for listening to me," he managed to get out.
She pushed herself up suddenly; the words came pouring out of her mouth like they had just been swirling in her brain, waiting for their chance to escape, needing to be heard. "Dad, I'm so, so sorry- I know I was stupid and I-"
"Hold on there, kid, you're not stupid."
"But I made a stupid mistake and I DO know better and I swear I'll prove it. I'm so sorry, please- I won't ever do it again…" She would have kept going, but Dean took her little shoulders gently and squeezed, making her stop. It was tearing him up inside more than any hellhound ever had to hear her verbally lacerating herself like this.
"Natalie- listen to me." She snapped her mouth shut instantly, determined to prove that she was listening. That was another punch to the gut. "Kid- I…Look. I did go off the rails today, okay? Way off. You…I lost my temper way more than I should have, and that wasn't fair to you. It…Okay." Dean heaved a sigh and let her go. He gathered his courage for a moment, then looked her straight in the eye.
"When I had just turned twelve, we were in Albuquerque. It was April, so your uncle hadn't had his birthday yet- he was seven. Dad had just taken out a succubi- you know what that is?"
"Female demon that kidnaps children."
Despite the horrible emotions he was battling, he still felt a stab of pride. "Good girl. So your grandpa had just taken out the succubi, and we were back on the road. We stopped at a gas station, and your uncle got out of the car and walked up to a Black Seville that was there."
"Like the Black Seville at the gas station today?" Natalie asked in a whisper, her voice frightened. Dean reached out and stroked her cheek to calm her down.
"Yup. The driver wanted to know where we were going, and for whatever reason, your uncle told him. Then Dad saw him." Dean swallowed hard. "He screamed at both your uncle and me for a long time after that. Then, a couple days later, Dad left Sammy at Bobby's house and took me deer hunting. We were in the woods, and I missed the shot on a twelve point buck, tripped over a tree, and dropped my gun." The embarrassment of that still stung. "All of the sudden, here comes seven year old Sammy out of nowhere. Picks up my gun, and lays that big boy out." Dean's eyes flicked over to his brother, whose face had gone pale, listening to Dean reliving those moments. "He thought the deer had taken my gun and was trying to hurt me. And when Dad asked how he had gotten there- turns out, the man in the Black Seville had been stalking Bobby's house, waiting for us to leave, and lured Sammy outside. He gave him a ride to the forest where we were." Dean left out the next part- Natalie didn't need to know about the next round of yelling and punishment that had been dished out on them after that incident.
"So fast forward to about a week later. Dad had taken us to another hunter's house- the man's name was Silas. Silas knew things that others didn't, and we were looking for answers."
"Was he a psychic?"
"Not exactly. He had been in a coma since…well, for a long time. But when Sammy came around, he woke up." Dean watched as Natalie's eyes went wide at the macabre but true tale. "So Dad dropped Sammy off at Silas's so they could talk, and he took me into town. On the way back, the Black Seville passed us." Natalie gasped. "When we got to Silas's house, he'd been killed. But Sammy had been left alive." Again, for the sake of her nightmares, Dean omitted the fact that Silas had actually been torn to shreds. It had looked like someone stuffed a grenade in his guts and pulled the pin, and he had never forgotten that. "Sammy hadn't done it- the other guy did."
"The guy in the Black Seville?"
"Yup. His name was Anderson, and he was a hunter. Coupla days later he caught up to us and tried to spin some bullshit about how Sammy had killed Silas. It was impossible- there was no way that a seven year old could have done that. But Anderson was convinced that Sam was a monster that he had to take out. He got to our dad and tied him up. He was going after Sammy, so I did the only thing I knew to do. I killed him. He, uh…he was my first human kill." Dean looked down at his hands. He could still feel it- that feeling that after his first kill, his hands looked different somehow. "That's why I freaked out on you today, kiddo. Seeing that Black Seville, and you talking to a guy you didn't know, brought it all back. Sam being in danger, my first kill, the feeling that…that I wasn't protecting the people I love."
"Daddy," Natalie whispered, breaking his heart. "I'm so sorry. I didn't know. You were absolutely right to yell at me like that- I could have gotten us so hurt…"
Dean reached out and put his hand on the side of her face again. "Natalie, stop. Listen. Uncle Sam told me what happened- it was an honest mistake, okay? I know that now. I'm sorry I didn't give you the chance to explain that."
"But you're right- I know better than to talk to strangers."
"You thought it would be disrespectful to ignore him, right?"
"Well, yeah, but…"
"So you thought you were doing right."
"But I KNOW better."
"And it was a mistake. You hear me? I know now it was a mistake. I'm not taking away your punishment, because I do want you to learn that there are consequences for talking to strangers. You don't talk to them, no matter what, unless I give you clearance. But it was a mistake, and I know you're not going to let it happen again."
"I NEVER will, sir."
Dean's heart was twisting. God she sounded like him. It was almost as if she could hear the echo of twelve-year-old Dean in his head and was repeating it.
"But that doesn't mean that you were stupid," he said firmly, but kindly, the echo of her own choice of words hurting him still. At that, Natalie ducked her head down. Dean knew exactly what that meant- she was disagreeing with him without saying a word. He put his hand under her chin and lifted her eyes to meet his. "Natalie, you are NOT stupid," he said again firmly.
"What I did was," she said in a small voice.
"What you did was an accident. Accidents don't define who you are." He dropped his hand and looked away again before finishing his thought. "I was wrong to make you relive my accidents in your own today. I should never have brought that down on you."
"But I deserved it."
"No, you didn't. If you don't get anything else from me, which you better, you get this. You didn't deserve to be made to feel like you were worthless. You didn't deserve to be made to feel like you were stupid. And kid, I am so sorry for making you feel both. You are NOT stupid or worthless. Far from it. You are the most important, incredible, awesome thing in the world. You hear me?"
At that, Natalie's lips twitched up in a tiny smile. He was encouraged by that and kept going. "You are so damn smart it freaking scares me sometimes. You're a great hunter. Hell, you're better at research than me. And you're human, too. That means that occasionally, you're going to make mistakes." At that, her shoulders slumped again. But he hurried on. "And that's okay." Her eyes flicked back to his, listening. "It's all part of it. I can't begin to tell you how many mistakes I've made. And that's because I've made a lot of them- not because I just can't count that high." The corners of her mouth pulled up again at his little joke. "It's okay to make mistakes. It's notokay for me to make you feel stupid and worthless for making them. I was in the wrong today for that." He put both hands on either side of her face, looking right into her eyes. "Natalie, can you ever forgive me?" he begged.
"Only if you forgive me." That wasn't exactly the answer Dean wanted to hear- he wanted her to know that she had already been forgiven for making a mistake. She still felt like she had to make amends. These, he supposed, were the consequences of what he had done today- this was part of his own punishment. He didn't know what to say, so he pulled her into his chest and wrapped his strong arms around her. Upon being back in the place where she felt safe and she knew they were okay, Natalie let her tense muscles relax, knowing she was forgiven, and forgiving him back.
Dean felt that- and a tidal wave of relief swept over him. She was starting to accept it- she was going to be okay. Just when his heart had started to settle a bit, she popped her head up.
"Oh- here- I want to show you this," she said, gently extracting herself from his arms. She got up and walked over to the table where Sam was still sitting, watching the entire exchange. As she reached him, he caught her eye and raised his eyebrow as if to say 'Are you okay?' She smiled back at him, reassuring him that she was. She grabbed a piece of paper and trotted back to Dean, plopping down on the couch right next to him, as close as she could get. Dean felt another wave of relief- she wasn't scared to be close to him, thank God. She handed the paper to him, but when he saw what was on it, that horrible feeling of guilt rushed back just as quickly as it had dissipated.
She had written "I will not talk to strangers" on it one hundred times.
Dean's throat closed up. After a moment, he said, "Did Uncle Sam make you do this?" He already knew the answer, but he had to ask anyways.
She shook her head. "Nope. I did it myself."
"Why?"
"I wanted to prove to you that I wouldn't talk to strangers again and that I was listening to you."
"Kid- this…you didn't have to do this."
"Yes, I did. I HAVE to prove to you that I'll be good, and this is the only way I could figure out how to do it."
She sounded so confident- so sure. She was looking at him expectantly, as if to ask if this gesture would convince him that she was going to behave. He tried not to crush the paper in his hand, even though he wanted to throw it away, salt and burn it, never look at it again. He knew what it meant to her, so he couldn't do it. But holding that paper was proof that he had damaged her to the point where SHE felt she needed to make amends. She was continuing to punish herself for her mistakes, just like he had always done. He knew that she fully intended to keep doing it for the entire week that she was being punished, too, without even having to ask her.
"Natalie, listen. I know that you'll be good. Okay? You don't have to do this." There was almost a tone of pleading in his voice. But she simply leaned against him, nuzzling her head into his arm. He instantly wrapped her into a hug again, praying that somehow she would understand.
"I love you, Dad," she said simply. Dean had to bite his tongue hard to stop the flow of tears that wanted to come spilling out of his eyes at her words.
"I love you too, kid," he finally managed to say. As he held her, he knew that he was going to take every piece of paper that she filled out this week- because he knew she wouldn't stop until she had felt she'd been punished enough- and put it in the glove compartment of Baby. That way, every time he looked at his dash, he would be reminded all over again. He would feel the wave of guilt for making her feel this way. This was his own punishment for passing along the sins of his father.
