Hello, amazing SPN Family! Happy Season 14 week! I didn't realize it had been a freaking month since I published. EEK! So here's a story, ha ha. This one was inspired by a review and a suggestion from the amazing MariaKata. Thank you so much for letting me use this story! It actually expanded into a three part case story as well, but that's coming a little bit later. Also thanks to a lot of you who have asked for stories where Natalie is in trouble. Here you go :)

Special thanks to my beta, Jenmm31. You're the best, girl.

You know the drill, read, review, enjoy! Love you bitches!

A/N- in this story, Natalie is 16. Please see profile page for disclaimers.

The kitten-purr whine of the Impala was doing little to drown out Dean's heavy, angered breathing. He had his lead foot pressed down as usual, and his gaze wasn't straying from the road one iota. Nor was his daughter's gaze wavering from the suburban roadway he was navigating through like a boss.

At one point during the drive, Natalie tucked one knee into her chest. It was always her go-to position when she was in trouble. She just felt safer curled up into a little ball, and she was definitely seeking comfort now. But it was short lived.

"Feet off the seat," came the snarl from the driver's side. With her own heavy, angered sigh, Natalie slammed her foot back down onto the floorboards. Normally, when she was in trouble, she would do everything she could to not anger her father further. Getting him even hotter under the collar would result in greater punishment. And then there were the times she didn't give a furry rat's ass about making him mad, because as far as she was concerned, he was in the wrong. This was definitely one of those times. She took a slight sadistic pleasure in pissing him off even more, and stomping her foot as she just had done was a sure way to do just that.

Dean's grip on the steering wheel tightened for a moment. He knew exactly what she was doing, pushing her limits as far as she could go. He had watched Sam do it to their father for years, especially around this age. It was one of the few times that Dean was not grateful that Natalie had a lot of Sam's personality as well as his own. She had gotten Sam's brains, his ability to retain information, and his tenacity. Of course she would have gotten his pain-in-the-ass attitude, too. Dean gritted his teeth, remembering the fights between John and Sam from so many years ago, having a new appreciation for the stress it had put John under.

Dean never would have dared to act that defiant towards their father. John always held Dean to a higher standard- one that Dean was only too willing to strive towards. And normally, Natalie charged that high-set bar on her own. She was always determined to be the best, to be faster, stronger, and better. Then when something like what had happened an hour ago happened, the whole damn system fell apart and she was reduced to a stubborn little shit who was doing everything she could to make him angrier than he already was.

As Dean tried to process his next move, Natalie sighed heavily and angrily once again, just because she could- exactly what he had been thinking she was doing. Suddenly, he knew what he was going to do in this situation, what he was going to do with her. She wanted to act like this? Two could play at this game. Besides- he was the father here. He knew what was best for his child- especially when she was acting like a child. And this move always ended up setting her straight, which was what she desperately needed right now, whether she wanted it or not.

Dean took a sudden right, and screeched into the motel parking lot. He looked over just long enough to register the surprise that flicked across his daughter's face. Good. She didn't see that coming.

Just as quickly as it had come, Natalie smoothed her look over to a stoic one, wanting to give Dean no indication that she had been surprised that they were stopping at the motel. He was probably going to pick up her damn Latin book and make her read the entire way to the next interview.

After killing the ignition, Dean barked one word- "OUT,"- at Natalie, before throwing open his door and exiting the Impala. In an almost identical move, Natalie threw her own door open and got out. She could feel Dean's eyes blazing a hole in her head as she walked towards the motel room door. She made it a point to tug at the bottom of her recently acquired pantsuit jacket, not wanting it to wrinkle anymore than it already had today. She hated steaming and ironing and all that crap to keep these clothes looking like they needed them to look. She started to dig the key out of her pocket, but looked up to see that Dean had moved quicker than her, and was holding the door open, staring daggers at her to get her ass inside. Not making eye contact, she held her head high and walked nonchalantly past him into the room.

As they entered the room, Sam looked up from his laptop in surprise. He hadn't expected them back for another hour, at least. "Hey guys. Whaaaaaaa…" he began, then he read the emotion rolling off both of them. "…happened?" he finished cautiously, as Dean firmly shut the door behind them.

"Oh, I'll tell you what happened," Dean growled, loosing his tie just a bit. "The kid nearly got herself jumped, that's what happened."

Natalie had proceeded straight to her book bag upon entering the room, and had been digging through it, looking for her Latin book, when Dean made that remark. With an exasperated sigh and a head roll, she turned towards her uncle.

"No, I didn't," she said, trying to keep a calm tone, but Dean interrupted.

"Oh, really?" he said sarcastically. "Because, as I recall it, you gave that demon just enough of a foothold to take a shot at you."

"What?" Sam said suddenly, standing up in alarm. "What do you mean, demon? I thought you guys were just going over to the house. Where the hell did you run into demons?"

Dean put his hands on his hips, pacing in frustration. "At the damn house." When Sam's face registered confusion, Dean continued. "Yeah. So that poor bastard that bit it? Seems like the douchebag we've been tracking has set up bodyguards around his wife, just in case. We were in the middle of questioning the wife, and her maid suddenly went black eyes. Right there in the freaking room." Dean pointed to Natalie without looking at her. "Kid starts rattling off an exorcism. Demon's almost gone with the wind, we're almost home free." Dean shot his daughter a nasty look before continuing. "And then, she misses a word in the exorcism."

Sam's surprised gaze swung to his niece, who was looking like she was about to turn into a charging bull with her nostrils flaring and tossing of her head. "You missed a word?" he repeated, disbelieving. "You missed a word in the exorcism? How did you miss a word? You've known those since you were five!" he said, his confusion evident. Before Natalie could answer for herself, Dean interrupted again.

"Because she wasn't focusing, that's why."

"I told you, it was just an accident!" she shot back at her father. "I don't know what happened, okay? I just forgot! I KNOW I've known the exorcisms forever," she said, with an acerbic look at Sam, before her gaze swung back to her father. "I just screwed up, okay? We got the demon in the end. All's well that ends well?"

Dean's face hardened in fury. "You're joking, right?" he said, his tone making it clear that she better be joking. "That damn thing jumped right back into that meat suit the second you 'forgot', and went straight for your throat, kid!"

"AND when I saw that," Natalie countered immediately, turning to Sam. "I dove out of the way-"

"Crashing into the glass end table, lucky that thing didn't shatter and slice up your face-"

"Well, I didn't really have time to look for a crash pad, did I?" Natalie shouted back. Dean instantly stood hard as iron at his daughter's yelling. The silence hung in the air for three uncomfortable seconds, before Dean raised a very controlled finger to her face.

"You watch that tone, little girl," he said, his voice deep and menacing. "You know better than to yell at me like that, I don't care how mad you are. You show me respect." Natalie crossed her arms tightly over her chest and looked down, but she didn't say anything back. Dean glared at her for another moment, before turning back to Sam. "Go suit up," he commanded his brother. "We hit the road in five."

"What?" both Sam and Natalie said at the same time, looking at Dean.

"I thought this was training time for her, getting her used to questioning witnesses. Why do you need me there?" Sam asked evenly, his eyes darting back and forth between father and daughter.

"We're right in the middle of this freaking thing," Natalie said, adding her own argument to Sam's. "How are we supposed to announce there's another partner working on the case now?"

Dean fixed Natalie with The Eye. "That's my problem to figure out," he said, in a carefully leveled tone. "You're staying here, in the room, reviewing every exorcism in the book, and in the meantime, Sam's up to bat. Chop chop. Time's a-wastin." The stunned silence lasted all of five seconds before Natalie exploded.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" she shrieked.

"TONE," Dean warned in a loud voice, but it didn't even register with her. She was way too pissed.

"You're pulling me off this thing because I screwed up ONE WORD?" she finished, before the shock of the situation rendered her silent again.

Almost calmly- almost- Dean crossed his arms and answered in his no-nonsense attitude. "No, I'm pulling you off this case because you're supposed to be training and learning how to handle yourself in the middle of hell. I'm pulling you off this case because when the shit hits the fan, like it did back there at the house, I need to know that you aren't going to choke and forget a word that could get you killed. I'm pulling you off this case so you can RE-LEARN what you've known since you were five, so you don't compromise yourself again. So all in all…" Dean said, his eyes flashing furiously, "…yeah. I'm pulling you off this case."

"How am I supposed to learn anything if you bench me every time I make a stupid mistake?" she shot back, her own temper rising beyond a safe point.

"That's the point, Natalie," Dean said, his tone becoming more and more resolute the harder she fought. It was making her furious that he was getting calmer the harder she argued. "It was a mistake that shouldn't have happened. What happens if you make a mistake like that again and you're alone? Huh? What then? I'll tell you what then. People die. You die."

"You think I wouldn't have attacked him if I had been alone? You really think that I couldn't have taken that bastard by myself? That it?" she snarled.

"Again, not the point. Until I KNOW that you know these cold, you're staying here and training here. In the meantime, we need to keep moving on this case, especially now that the demons know that we're here," Dean finished. He looked at Natalie, waiting for her to say more, but her dropped jaw indicated that she was mute for the time being. He turned to Sam, who was still awkwardly standing next to the table, not knowing which way he should really go here. Annoyed at Sam's stillness, Dean barked at him too. "Sam, get the lead out. We need to go check to see if the demons are swarming the next house." Sam gulped, and went to follow Dean's orders.

Once Sam had shut the bathroom door to change, Natalie seemed to find her voice. "This is un-fucking-believable," she hissed quietly to herself. Unfortunately, Dean caught the gist of what she was saying, even if he didn't quite catch the words.

"I told you to watch your mouth, Natalie Grace," he said, his voice low and dangerous again.

"What? I can't even talk to myself anymore?" she spat at him furiously.

"You say one more word, and life as you know it is over, kid."

Knowing that he wasn't kidding, Natalie ripped her jacket off and hurtled it on the couch, not giving a damn about wrinkles, since apparently she wasn't going to be needing the jacket at all now. She stormed over to her laptop at the table, and had barely opened the lid, when Dean's huge hand snapped it shut again. Without missing a beat, he unhooked the power source from the computer and snatched it off the table. He then held out his hand towards her. She knew that gesture meant for her to hand over her phone, too.

Refusing to give up without a fight, Natalie managed to calm herself just long enough to watch her tone. "You told me not to say anything; I didn't say anything," she said in a very measured tone, as her hand slipped into her pants pocket, gripping her phone tightly.

"Then consider this something ELSE you should have learned when you were five," Dean said in the same measured tone back. "You throw things when you're having a tantrum?" He nodded towards her discarded jacket on the couch. "You get your toys taken away. Phone, NOW." Knowing that she was right up against the line of how far she could go, Natalie had no choice. She pulled the phone from her pocket and held it up for Dean, wanting to make him work for it instead of just completely giving it up. Dean snatched it with his free hand and dropped it into his pocket, just as Sam exited the bathroom.

Sam saw Natalie's laptop in Dean's arms, and wondered how the situation could have gone from bad to worse in the three minutes it had taken him to change. He knew his niece had a temper, but she was also usually smart enough to capitulate to Dean, who always won, no matter what. Apparently, though, this time her smarts were failing her epically.

As if in response to Sam's thoughts, Dean quickly gave his brother another order. "Sam, get our laptops. They're coming with us." Sam shot Dean a quick look that said he clearly thought this was overkill, but Dean shot him back a look that plainly said not to mess with him right now. Sam quickly and quietly did as bidden, avoiding his niece's gaze. Dean held his stance close to the table until he was sure Sam had all their hardware, then turned again towards his daughter.

"I want you to write out- by hand- every single exorcism you know. Cross check it with the book. Once you've done all that, find another way to train. Don't care on what. Just something else."

This gave Natalie pause. Usually, Dean and Sam laid out the lesson plans, step by step. She never got to pick what she wanted to do. This must be his lame attempt at calming down instead of tearing her to pieces. Taking a breath, she felt her anger drop one notch, and she looked up at her father. The stoicism on her face was still rock hard, but at least she could look at him now without wanting to punch him.

"Can I leave the room?" she asked in her even tone. Appreciating the fact that he knew she was honestly trying to watch her temper despite the fury that she felt, Dean answered.

"Stay within a two mile radius. No jogging." Even though he didn't elaborate, they both knew that he meant she couldn't go running since she wouldn't have her phone- and GPS- on her. Despite the fact that she could take down a Navy Seal with her pinkie finger, Dean still was resolute that she never go running without her phone or without Sam. There were too many assholes in the world along with monsters that would take advantage of that situation.

Natalie nodded once to show she understood the terms. She didn't trust herself to speak again right now. She had used up all her patience asking that one question. She leaned back in her chair, crossed her arms, and looked out the window, just waiting for them to leave so she could scream her frustrations into her pillow.

Once she was sure that Baby had completely cleared the parking lot, Natalie shoved her chair away from the crappy motel room table. She was too angry right now to do more than stomp around the room, throwing pillows and books and whatever else she could lay her hands on. She had seen Dean rage around more than once in the same manner, and shook her head angrily, realizing that he was punishing her for acting just like himself.

Once she got enough of her anger out to focus, she yanked her Latin book out of her backpack, slamming it down onto the table. Before she forced herself back into the chair, however, she got a good look at the disaster area she had just created in the room. Knowing that if her father suddenly came back, she'd be up a creek for causing this chaos. She gritted her teeth and haphazardly straightened out the room, at least to a passable point. She eyed the fridge, wondering if a beer would take the edge off, but ultimately decided against it. She knew exactly how she was going to train after the Latin bullshit homework, and it probably wouldn't be a good idea for her to be drunk while doing it.

Her fingers flew as she copied out every exorcism by heart, then did as she was told and double checked. She was dismayed to find that there was more than one word she had forgotten on two of them, and tore those pages of her notebook out, carefully thinking and writing again. She kept shoving the fact that Dean had been right about the whole situation out of her mind as she scribbled down the dead language.

Finally, about forty five minutes later, she finished. She tapped her pencil on the table rapidly, still trying to push away the reason that was trying to invade her brain. In frustration, she pushed away from the table again, went over to the weapons duffle, extracted her .45 and a new clip, and made sure she had her keys. She was getting this anger out one way or another.

*SPN SPN SPN*

She made sure she kept due north. Luckily the motel they were staying at had been on the outskirts of town, and there was a large wooded area behind them. She had tucked a compass into her purple canvas jacket pocket, just in case, but she had always had a pretty good sense of direction. However, her thoughts had been steering her differently since the whole debacle, so she had packed the compass- just in case.

Once she got to a good clearing, she took one quick look around to make sure there was no one within range, then drew the .45 again. This was going to help. She'd do gun training and shoot stuff. Perfect way to blow off steam. She lined up to take her first shot at a tree that she had designated as her first victim, but then realized that something was off. The gun felt different in her hand than it normally did. Wasn't quite the same fit she was used to. Quickly flicking the safety on, she pulled the gun back in to herself to examine it.

It was Dean's .45. She immediately began to sweat. Shit, shit, SHIT. She had grabbed Dean's gun by mistake.

Her first reaction was panic, quickly followed by a surge of anger. If he knew that she had grabbed this gun, she was toast. He wouldn't care that it had been an accident- today clearly proved that he didn't give a damn about accidents. Dean had always been extremely explicit that NO ONE touches his precious silver and pearl-handled .45, EVER. Natalie's gun was an exact replica of his. When he had first purchased her one of her own, it had been the only kind she had wanted, always wanting to be exactly like him. A stab of pain went through her as she remembered that.

She carefully examined the gun as if it was a live viper. Sure enough, it was Dean's. What the hell was he doing without it? He never left without his gun. She thought back to earlier in the day. She knew he was packing the demon knife, holy water…and she suddenly remembered. He hadn't gotten a chance to clean his gun recently, so had grabbed the snub-nosed revolver instead. Why the hell had he chosen today of all days to grab something else, leaving his .45 right there where anybody could get them mixed up?

Natalie bit the inside of her cheek as she huffed in frustration. If she went all the way back to the motel now, she'd loose precious shooting time before the guys returned. But if she fired this thing and Dean found out, she'd be in even deeper than before. The tidal wave of anger still lapping at her brain made the decision before she was even aware.

She raised the gun and pulled the trigger.

The bullet sliced through the side branch, severing it from the trunk. The crash of the branch on the forest floor combined with the knowledge of her dead on shot sent a wave of dopamine through her brain. She craved more. She emptied the clip into the trees, setting targets for herself and demanding the utmost focus from herself. The harder she focused, the more accurate she became. She snapped the new clip into place and continued firing.

As her brain continued to flood with the happy chemicals and the clip emptied, she finally let herself deal with the nagging thought that had been chipping away at her since her Latin. Dean was right. She was getting too sure of herself, and not focusing when the chips were down, assuming that she'd be right, because she never thought she'd be wrong.

When that realization hit her, she actually groaned out loud. Son of a bitch. Why couldn't she just stay mad for once? Wasn't that what teenagers were supposed to do? Suddenly, the clock in her head started chiming a warning. She'd been out here a good half hour, at least, and combined with the time it had take to do her Latin, it meant Sam and Dean could be back at any moment. With a heavy sigh, she aimed her last bullet at the farthest tree and pulled the trigger. And nothing happened.

She pulled again, but still, nothing. "Oh no, no, no," she muttered to herself, flicking the safety again and examining Dean's gun. The damn thing had jammed.

FUCK.

Natalie quickly shoved it into the waistband of her pants and took off for the motel. Maybe luck would be on her side and she could get it cleaned and un-jammed before her father came home and dismembered her. As she quickly approached the parking lot of the motel, she scanned the cars with laser precision. To her relief, she realized that Baby wasn't there yet. Breathing heavily from her jog back, she let herself into the room.

Stripping off her jacket quickly, she put the gun down on the table. She was heading for the weapons duffle, when she heard it. That familiar purr of an engine, the indubitable squeak of the chassis. She'd know that car any where.

Son of a BITCH.

She shoved the gun into the duffle, and, not being able to think about what else to do, put the bag back exactly where Dean had left it. A part of her brain screamed that that was a bad idea, but she couldn't think of any alternatives at the moment. Freezing for a moment in panic, she forced herself to turn and run for her books. If he were to walk in and find her staring at the duffle bag, he'd know something was up.

When the Winchester boys opened the motel room door, they found Natalie sitting on her couch, open book next to her, double checking her angel sigils. A thousand tidal waves of emotion hit Natalie this time upon feeling Dean's presence in the room. Fear, anger, frustration, terror. With a mammoth effort, she swallowed the golf ball in her throat, set her face in stone, and looked up.

"How did it go," she managed to say in an even tone. Screw working on her angel sigils. Dean had wanted her to learn to stay calm in a tense situation; this was the best practice she could get, ever.

Pleased to see that she was done with her temper tantrum, Dean answered as he shrugged off his jacket. "Pretty well. We got everyone heading to Rufus's cabin while we finish off this son of a bitch."

"Must have taken some pretty strong convincing to get them to make that haul."

This time, Sam answered. "You'd be surprised. Once they heard that the demons had tried to attack the widow, they were all but packed." Natalie managed a chuckle before she felt her stomach turn. Dean was taking off his shoes- dangerously close to the duffle bag. She bolted from the sofa towards the bathroom to try to think through her next move. She almost made it, too.

"Freeze."

She obeyed. So did her insides.

She heard the clink and metallic thumps of the weapons duffle being set down on Dean's bed. "What is this?" he asked, in a calm voice that fooled no one. With every iota of her being, Natalie didn't want to turn around, but she had no choice. She turned, her eyes downcast, and finally worked up the courage to look up. Yup. Standing there, holding his .45, and shooting dagger from his eyes. Fantastic.

When she didn't answer, Dean bit his tongue. He had tried to cool off himself in this past nearly two hours, but this was threatening to send him over the edge and undo all the work he had done. He swallowed the biting words he wanted to throw at her with great difficulty, and tried again.

"Natalie, I said, what is this," he said, his temper starting to rise despite himself.

She tried to shrug nonchalantly. "Um, your gun?" she said in a lighter voice, knowing as it was coming out of her mouth that it wasn't going to work. She was right.

Dean snorted in ironic amusement. "Really. You gonna try that? Gonna try to pretend you don't know what's going on? Okay, fine. Take a moment and think about how that works out for you in the long run." He let the threat dangle in the air for a moment- just long enough to permeate her common sense and let her figure out the extreme error behind trying that particular tactic. "I'll give you one chance to try to come clean. Tell me why my gun was moved inside that duffle bag."

Running her tongue along her bottom back teeth, she held out for another moment, then looked at the floor and answered. "Because I moved it," she mumbled. The silence was deafening. A silent but angry Dean Winchester was not good. Not good at all.

"Come here," he said quietly. Feeling like a five year old again, Natalie shuffled over to him. When she got closer, he gently held the gun out where he knew she could see it, despite her refusal to make eye contact with him. "You wanna tell me why you moved it, let alone why MY gun is jammed?"

Her temper flared again at his tone. However, instead of giving into it this time, she steeled herself, looked right into his eyes, and told him the truth. To his credit, he listened quietly and without interrupting her, something that honestly surprised her. The small part of her brain that wasn't preoccupied with panic at the immense amount of trouble she was in took note. When she was respectful and told the truth, he respected her right back.

Finally finishing her story, Dean slowly inhaled and looked away, thinking. Sam opened his mouth to speak, thought better of it, and shut it again. He finally muttered something about giving the two of them some privacy, and fled to the bathroom yet again.

Natalie held her ground. She wasn't going to attack, she wasn't going to fight. Dean had been right before, and if she hadn't let her temper get the better of her when she was grabbing the gun in the first place, none of this would be happening. She locked her hands together behind her back like Dean had taught her to when she was taking orders.

Dean took a couple steps away from her, one hand on his hip, the other still clutching the gun. The silence stretched out, but Natalie was determined not to break it, not even with an apology. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Dean turned back to her. She was shocked to see the worry mixed in with the anger on his face.

"Is this a game to you, kid?" he asked softly.

"Sir?" she responded, confused by his question. He shook his head and looked away, taking another breath before answering. He didn't yell, but the disappointment in his voice was almost worse.

"You've been around the supernatural since before you were even born. You know what's out there, and what it can do. You made your first kill at the age of twelve. You've known how to strip down a sawed off since you were six. You know more dead languages than most Ivy League professors combined. So what is this? What is happening to you? You all of the sudden so sure of yourself, so convinced that nothing is going to happen to you, that you're letting yourself slip?" He turned back to her, holding out the gun to her again. "This is a rookie mistake, kid. One that I know you'd never make- if you were thinking clearly. If you were focusing. And if nearly getting jumped by a demon today didn't get through to you, then what will?"

Natalie's heart nearly cracked in two on that question. It wasn't the quiet threat that did it- it was the heartbreak she heard in Dean's voice. She couldn't answer him. She was too busy trying to keep her eyes from watering. Dean stepped right up to her. She didn't break her soldier's stance, but she was clenching her teeth as hard as she could to keep the emotions in check.

"Natalie, I know you're smarter than this. I know that you know better. And I know that you know how to focus. So what's going wrong? Tell me."

She struggled with her answer for a minute, then remembered that the truth would always serve her best. "You're right," she said, in a tight voice. "I'm…I keep thinking that I know all this stuff, and I forget to review, or pay attention, because I know that you'll have my back if…when I screw up."

Dean pinched his lips together upon hearing her answer. He nodded thoughtfully before looking her dead in the eye again. "You know that I will always and forever have your back. But I HAVE to know that you understand how serious this is. That there might come a time when I can't get to you, or I'm incapacitated somehow, or hell, maybe I'm dead. I HAVE to know that you know how to take care of yourself, and that you'll be okay. That's why I come down so hard on you. Trust me, it ain't easy. You're a freaking genius, and when you make a mistake, I know you're beating yourself up more than I ever could. But if you defy me, argue with me, stop listening- then I don't really know that you can take care of yourself. Kapeesh?"

Natalie suddenly saw the scenario flipped in her head. She saw his point of view. Dean wasn't coming down on her like a ton of bricks because she was a failure. He was doing it because he needed her to succeed- to take care of herself. She suddenly felt horrible for what she had said and done, but she couldn't show those emotions. Not right now. She nodded back, looking him dead in the eye.

"Yes, sir. I understand. And I apologize. I will do better on focusing, I promise."

Dean nodded once in acceptance of her apology, looking deep into her eyes, before turning back to the duffle bag on his bed. "Well, to that end, I'm going to make sure that this lesson sticks." He hoisted the bag up, and handed it to her. "I want every weapon stripped down, thoroughly cleaned, and ready to roll before your uncle and I get back tonight. And you can forget about getting your phone back for the next three days. Understood?"

Keeping her temper in check, she nodded and answered respectfully. "Yes, sir." She shoved her temper to the side- she deserved this, so her temper had no place here. To prove that she was accepting her punishment, she sat down at the table and immediately began her task, starting with the .45. "Are you and Uncle Sam going out again to try to find the demon?" she asked quietly as she began dismantling the gun.

"No. We're going to a freaking bar," Dean muttered. "After today, I need a drink." Despite the tenseness still in the room, that made Natalie crack a smile. Sam emerged from the bathroom, and Dean quickly changed into his own flannels, before heading out the door.

As Sam walked out into the parking lot, Dean paused again by the table. He quickly withdrew a twenty from his wallet, and tossed it on the table. "Here," he said gruffly. "Get yourself a pizza for dinner." He turned and began walking towards the door.

"Yes, sir," she answered, her eyes never leaving her work, but wanting him to understand that she was taking this seriously. Her words, however, made Dean pause again. He kept his back to her, but spoke quietly, needing her to know what was on his mind, but unable to look at her.

"You know I need you to focus, because…I don't know what I'd do without you, kid."

A comfortable silence hung in the air for the first time today, before she responded.

"I know. And Dad?"

"Yeah?"

"I know."

Their secret code for I love you. Dean wasn't sure he'd ever hear it again after the blow up they had today. He swallowed hard before answering.

"I know, too." And he was out the door.

Natalie let herself put the gun down for a moment as she gathered herself, but didn't let the tears fall. She was still angry that all of this had been because of one little word, but now she understood. She picked up the gun again with new determination. And focus.