Goooooooooood morning SPN Family! Don't you look lovely today!
Case story coming at you! Hopefully it'll help you get through this Tuesday...wait...Tuesday? *Heat of the Moment plays in the background. Entire fandom collectively flop sweats*
Special thanks to Jenmm31 as always. Best Sammy ever.
A/N- This is part 1 of a 3 part story. In this case, Natalie is 20. Please see profile page for disclaimer.
Letting out a loud belch, Natalie crushed the Mountain Dew can in her hand and tossed it over her shoulder. The crinkle of the Twizzler bag echoed around the bunker's library as she pulled another long strand out, biting the end off ferociously. She growled as she chewed, frustrated at her lack of a solution. She had been sitting cross-legged on top of the library table for so long that her right leg was starting to fall asleep. Candy dangling out of her mouth, she stared blankly at her laptop, willing a new and fresh idea to pop into her brain to type into the search engine. She finished off the Twizzler- and still had nothing. She angrily shoved herself off the mahogany table, making sure to avoid the glass lamp, and began pacing.
She took half a moment to stretch before plodding in her bare feet over towards the divider in between book sections. She approached the low wall, which was currently holding her mini cooler containing all the Mountain Dew it could fit. She was going against the Winchester grain, not drinking beer while doing research, but this case kept giving her dead ends. She knew herself too well. If she started drinking, it would either make her goofy or angry. She hadn't built up the tolerance her father and uncle had, and she needed to stay focused. So over-caffeinated sugared goat piss in a can it was.
She flipped open the lid to the cooler, extracting another can. She wasn't really thirsty or even tired- it was just something to do to momentarily distract her from her growing sense of defeat. For the umpteenth time in the last eight hours, she went over the facts again, popping the top on her soda.
Several high profile celebrities had recently committed suicide. It had been chalked up in the media to bad marriages, depression, financial ruin, or all of the above. But the frequency and the facts of these deaths didn't sit well with any of the Winchesters. They had sat down together in the library last night after dinner and discussed the whole case. The room was strewn with books, newspaper clippings and articles that the Winchesters had gathered to determine what was causing this. They had pushed hard, as they always did when researching. Natalie had learned researching techniques from the best, and so was readily keeping pace with her father and uncle. However, their ages were starting to show.
Sam had kept going until around 11:30pm, when he rubbed his tired eyes and declared that he'd take the banner up again in the morning. Dean had been able to make it about a half hour longer, if you counted repeatedly falling asleep in his chair over a dusty book. Finally, he pushed away from the table, telling Natalie to get to bed, and that they'd try this again in the morning. She begged for a little more time, pleading that she wasn't tired at all. And it was true. She had all the stamina of a twenty-year-old Winchester who was used to pulling all nighters. Dean rolled his eyes and held up one finger, indicating that she could have one additional hour and that was it, before grumpily exiting the room. Then, when they both were gone, she broke out her stash of Mountain Dew and Twizzlers and settled in for a long night. Dean was going to be asleep- he'd never know how late she was going to stay up. Besides- she was almost an adult, legally. She could decide how long she was awake, thank you very much. It was just after 2 a.m.- he was out for the count, and she was off the hook.
She pored over the articles and the police investigations one more time, before groaning loudly in frustration. The sound bounced around the large chamber of the bunker's library. She instantly stopped, panicking that it was going to wake up her father. Okay, okay, she might be twenty, but there was no sense in waking a sleeping bear. When she didn't hear anything stirring from the hallway that led to their bedrooms, she let out a sigh of relief.
"Close one, Winchester," she muttered to herself. "Let's try to rein it in, shall we?" Once she realized she was talking to herself out loud, she gave herself another little shake. Maybe she should go to bed if she had resorted to self-dialogue. She thought for a moment. Nah.
She extracted another Twizzler from the bag, staring at it like it held all the answers she was looking for. She bit off each end, and dropped it into her soda can. Using it as a straw, she took a long pull of her drink. Not bad. Trying to stimulate her brain, she hopped back up onto the library table, stretching out across the short end so her head and feet were hanging off the sides. And that's when Dean walked in.
She didn't notice him at first. She was trying to suck Mountain Dew out of the Twizzler upside down and was rather preoccupied with that. She didn't catch his tall and ticked-off frame standing in the stone archway. Dean cleared his throat loudly, nearly causing her to fall off the table in shock. The mouthful of soda that she had suddenly went up into her nasal passages as she gasped at the sound, causing her to suddenly sit up, nearly choking as the drink burned its way out of her sinuses. Once she pulled her red-faced, coughing, and spluttering self together, she looked into her father's face. Seeing that he was less than pleased, she immediately slapped on that carefree, cocky grin that she had inherited from him.
"Hi Dad!" she said brightly. Dean glared at her stoically in response, his hands shoved into the deep pockets of the heather grey robe he had inherited from the Men of Letters. Natalie acted as though it was more exciting to see him rather than the slow, creeping terror that she was feeling at his sudden appearance. "Couldn't sleep?" she said sympathetically, tilting her head to the side.
But, as usual, Dean wasn't having it. "I told you to be in bed an hour ago," he said gruffly, his stance not changing one iota.
She playfully rolled her eyes. "C'mon Dad, I'm twenty years old. I don't need a bed time," she said gently. "Besides, I'm making some great headway on this case!"
"You're a terrible liar, you know that?" Dean answered back without missing a beat. He eyed the messy stacks of paper spread out on the tables, and the crushed soda cans on the floor. His scowl deepened as his gaze returned to his daughter.
Despite her cavalier attitude, Natalie couldn't help but wither just a bit. Twenty years old and The Eye still did that to her. Life was so unfair. She opened her mouth to retaliate about his comment on her words, but before she could, he interrupted.
"Save it," he growled. He pointed around the room. "You are cleaning ALL of this up in the morning, before we get going on the research again."
"But…"
"Don't wanna hear it. Get to bed. You know the rules. You sleep at a decent hour when we're on a case."
"But since I can't find the answers, we're not on a case," she retorted brightly. Dean cocked one eyebrow at her, unamused. She fidgeted a bit at that. "Well, technically we're not," she mumbled back.
Choosing not to respond to that, he reached over to his right and grabbed a celebrity magazine that had covered several of the grizzly facts about a young soap opera star's recent death. He rolled it tightly, and spoke firmly, holding the magazine in his hands like a weapon.
"Bed. NOW."
Knowing that it didn't matter how old she was- that it would never matter how old she was- she obeyed good-naturedly. Dean was always going to be not only her father, but also her commander on every case. She better just suck it up and do what he said. As she walked past him towards her room, he turned quickly and gave her a resounding smack with the rolled up magazine, right on her butt. She whipped around, glaring at him accusingly, yet trying to hide her smile.
"Ouch!" she said, her hands going to her backside to protect it from further assault.
"Quit whining. That didn't hurt," Dean said, tossing the magazine back onto the table before beginning to walk down the corridor towards the bedrooms, right behind her. In the narrow hallway, she had no choice but to walk ahead of him, which she knew was his exact intention.
"Did too hurt," she mumbled half heartedly as she shuffled along, wanting him to feel guilty for it.
"Like I said, you're a terrible liar. And you've gotten much worse from me than that for actually lying before," he responded, his voice lacking any empathy whatsoever. Natalie tilted her head in acknowledgment of that fact. Those month-long groundings without her cell phone that she had gotten for lying to him had been simply torture. As they approached her bedroom door, she tried her last tactic, just because she could never go down without a fight.
"I'm twenty years old, Dad. You can't swat me like I'm five. I'm too mature for that," she said loftily, joking with him to make sure he wasn't really that mad at her.
Dean gave her his typical stoic look. "Kid, you were drinking Mountain Dew from a Twizzler straw at 2 a.m. while hanging upside down over a library table." He crossed his arms. "And you wanna tell me that's mature?"
She thought about it for a moment. "Okay, good point," she growled back, making a face at him before giving him a genuine cocky grin, knowing he wasn't really too upset with her. She reached up and pulled his arm towards her so she could kiss him goodnight on the cheek, making him smile, before departing into her room.
*SPN SPN SPN*
The next morning, Sam found Natalie wandering around the library, a plastic grocery bag in her hands. She was wearing one of Dean's old flannel shirts that was about four sizes too big for her, grubby sweatpants, a tank top with a huge stain on it, and no socks. Her hair had been hastily twisted up into a messy bun on top of her head, and it looked like it was being held in place with a pencil. She was picking crushed soda cans up off the floor, while absentmindedly rifling through the stacks of papers they had accumulated last night. She was chewing on her bottom lip, deep in thought. He cocked an eyebrow at the sight of her. She turned and caught the slightly disapproving look on his face.
"Morning!" she said brightly as if nothing was out of place at all. Sam shook his head before walking into the room.
"So," he began casually, a smile creeping onto his face. "What's with the homeless look?" he asked, gesturing to her stained top and plastic bag full of cans.
"Eh heh heh heh," she fake laughed dryly, making a face at him before her attention went back to the papers she had been looking at. "I'm trying to see if there was any particular work related connections in the case."
"What do you mean?" Sam asked, stretching his eyes wide as he attempted to wake up.
"I mean like if there was any place that they all mutually worked at or something like that."
"That's a long shot, Bug. Most of them weren't even in the same industry," Sam commented, walking up to a stack of police reports and rifling through them. "We got…let's see…a fashion designer, a reality show star, a You Tuber. And that's just to start. Not much in common outside of the…circumstances," he finished awkwardly. "And wasn't that one of the first things Dean looked at?"
"Yeah, but he was just looking at their resumes. I thought maybe there were other, like…unlisted jobs or something like that."
"Could be," Sam said, in a tone that was just a hair too placating.
"I knew it was a shot in the dark, but I'm just sick of coming up empty," Natalie answered with a growl, kicking a soda can in frustration. It bounced off the bookshelf closest to her and came ricocheting back, landing right back where it started. She looked at Sam as if daring him to laugh. "If that isn't a freaking metaphor for what I've been feeling, then I don't even know what to do," she commented dryly, earning a soft chuckle from her uncle.
"Well, I'll help you look, but first, coffee," he said, emphatically pointing towards the kitchen. She grinned, knowing that it was one of the few things that could get the Winchester men in action in the morning. "Have you eaten?" he asked. "Anything besides pure sugar and crap, I mean."
Natalie rolled her eyes. "Twizzlers are a part of the four food groups, Uncle Sam."
"Oh yeah?" he said, his smirk appearing. "And what four food groups are those?"
"Sweet, salty, fried, and au gratin."
It was Sam's turn to roll his eyes with a laugh. "Come on, I'll make you some eggs."
Natalie followed him eagerly into the kitchen. She loved his scrambled eggs. Somehow his eggs tasted better than anyone else's. As a token of appreciation, she went straight for the coffee pot. She couldn't stand the drink, but years of living with Sam and Dean had taught her how to make damn good coffee. They worked together on their breakfast, just enjoying the silence for a moment.
"You know, Dad's gonna kill me if he wakes up before I finished cleaning up the library," she commented nonchalantly once the brew started percolating.
Sam was busy at the stove, flipping and stirring the cooking eggs. "I don't think you'll have to worry about that once he smells food."
Natalie nodded in agreement, before going to the fridge and extracting a bottle of water. "So, you really don't think that there's anything to mine from a more extensive background check on the victims?" she asked, anxious to keep discussing the case.
Sam looked at her over his shoulder before returning his attention to the pan. "I didn't say that. I just think a mutual job between all nine of them is far-reaching. I think the connection isn't in their WORK, but their FAME."
Natalie nodded thoughtfully as she twisted the cap off the bottle. "I mean, I guess that makes sense. But what kind of monster preys on fame?"
"Maybe that's where you should get started when we hit it again. What do you think?"
"Worth a shot," she said, before taking a swig of water and gargling it loudly instead of swallowing it. Sam just looked at her disapprovingly. She caught the look and swallowed quickly.
"What?" she mumbled, going towards the fridge again so she could avoid eye contact. Sam bit back the comment about not being lady-like, because it would be a waste of breath on her, and focused back on the eggs. Relieved that he chose not to comment, she pulled a bottle of ketchup out of the fridge and brought it over towards the table. Sam plated the food and brought it over towards the table, then poured himself a cup of much needed coffee. He turned back just in time to catch his niece shaking ketchup all over her eggs.
"Gotta get my vegetables," she said jokingly.
Sam just smiled. "So seriously," he asked after a nice long sip of black gold. "What's with the super sized flannel and stained shirt?"
Natalie's mouth was half full, but she chewed and swallowed, to Sam's relief. He couldn't stand it when she talked with food in her mouth and she knew it, but these days, she was getting to be so much like Dean was when he was younger that he wouldn't put it past her to forget. She shrugged apathetically. "Haven't done laundry in a while," she said by way of an explanation, before she shoveled more eggs in.
Sam wanted to tell her to slow down so she didn't burn her mouth, but for the one millionth time he had to remind himself that she was twenty now, and didn't take kindly to being scolded like a child- even if she was acting like one. "Well, you might want to get on that today," he said gently. She nodded.
"As soon as we get a lead on the case, I will," she promised. "Hey- when do you think Dad will be up so he can help us?"
Before Sam could answer, Dean's roar resounded all the way from the library to the kitchen.
"NATALIE GRACE!"
She took another bite, chewing thoughtfully before she said, "Never mind."
*SPN SPN SPN*
About an hour later, after Dean had come storming into the kitchen to rip his daughter a new one for the mess she left and Sam had intervened with food, they were back in the library, noses to the grindstone once again. Natalie had hastily cleaned up her wreck from the night before, and they were poring over details again. Natalie was digging deeper into the victims' pasts, convinced that she was missing something there. Sam was examining the crime photos, and Dean was looking up deities that were addicted to fame.
They tossed theories around, but just couldn't find anything to stick on. "Okay- so something is….haunting them? Like a vengeful spirit?" Natalie asked, looking up at Dean as they paced in tandem around the library.
"Okay, I'll bite. Say it is a ghost. How is it jumping in between all these people?" Dean asked.
After a brief silence, she huffed. "No clue," she grumbled, hoping he'd be able to come up with something. The duo fell into silence again for a few minutes. Finally, Dean said what they had both been thinking.
"Alright Scooby gang. This might be a dead end." Natalie rolled her head around on her neck and opened her mouth to retort, but Dean stopped her with a raised hand. "Look, I know you want it to be something more- hell, they write soap operas that don't have this much death. But maybe, just maybe- this is a coincidence." Dean stopped, hands on his hips, and looked at Natalie to see how she was taking it. She had stopped pacing too, but was twisting the long arms of the humongous flannel she was wearing into knots with her hands in agitation. He looked over to find Sam not even paying attention. He was staring too intently at the crime scene snapshot in his hand. "Sammy," Dean barked. When he once again didn't get a response, he walked up to his brother. "You and that photo wanna get a room?"
Continuing to ignore his brother's jibes, Sam continued to stare at the picture. "Natalie, c'mere," he said in a distracted voice. She immediately unwound her sleeves from her fists and padded over to him. He pointed to an image in the corner of the photo. "Isn't that the cover for 'The Final Flower'?" Natalie leaned over his shoulder to get a better look.
"Yeah, I think it is," she said in the same tone he had used, studying the photo carefully.
"The cover for what now?" Dean asked, looking at the two of them. Sam started shuffling through the files again, pulling out another photo, and staring at it intently. Suddenly, he stabbed his finger at the right side of the picture.
"Here, look at this one. I know I've seen it before, but…" before he could even finish the sentence, Natalie snatched it up.
"That's the cover for 'The Light at the End'," she said without even having to think about it.
"Light at the End? What the hell is that?" Dean asked, confused at the nonsense they were speaking. But they both ignored him this time, much to his annoyance. Sam tapped the lid of Natalie's laptop, on the table next to him.
"See if you can figure out anything that links the vics with Di'amand, I'll keep checking out the other photos," he said in a rush to his niece. She immediately dropped into the chair, cracked open the lid, and began typing furiously.
"Dee-Amanda?" Dean asked, starting to get really irritated at being ignored. He opted for annoying instead of annoyed. "Sounds like a porn star," he said, a shit-eating grin spreading across his face. Shooting Dean an annoyed look, Sam explained.
"Faline Di'amand. She's written a series of books called 'The Masters of Non-Mysteries'. She's one of the most popular murder mystery writers on the circuit right now," Sam explained patiently.
"Murder mystery writers?" Dean responded incredulously. Both Natalie and Sam avoided his gaze, flushing the same red as they continued to type, both knowing exactly what Dean was thinking. "You mean to tell me that you two aren't getting enough murder and mystery in your jobs- now you want to read about it too?"
"Dean, you know we both like to read, and these books are really popular right now," Sam said in a resigned voice, knowing that Dean was about to take the mickey out of both of them.
"Oh, so you two are having a nerd-gasm because you found the cover of some books in a crime photo?"
"They're really good books," Natalie murmured as she continued to type quickly. Dean rolled his eyes.
"It's just weird that in both pictures, there's a book by Di'amand, close to the body, alright? Maybe it's a clue," Sam said, looking at his brother before focusing once again on the photos. "I mean, who knows. We've not found anything else linking them. It's at least something."
"Yeah, two morons with their fifteen-minutes-of-fame just happened to have pop culture crap close to them when they died. What are the odds," Dean said in his driest tone.
"I think it could be a solid lead, Dean."
"Yeah, well, I think you're grasping at straws here, Sam." Despite Dean's rejection of the theory, Sam started looking at all the other crime photos. There was nothing in the third photo, or the fourth. Finding nothing in the fifth one either, Sam was just about to concede, when Natalie gave a small squeak of surprise.
"You find something?" Sam asked, his eyes lighting up. She nodded, smirking.
"The last guy who died- that chef? Jaxon Ambroisio? He was at a party at Faline Di'amand's house the week before he died. Catered it," she said proudly.
Sam nodded in encouragement. "Keep going Bug, see if you can find any connection with that soap opera star- uh…Kelsey Burnette, I think her name was?"
"On it!" Natalie said excitedly, before turning her full attention back to her laptop. Sam yanked his own closer to him and started clicking away as well.
"I'll just be over here then, doing the REAL work," Dean announced loudly. When he didn't get a response, he snorted in derision, then with a huff, opened his own laptop and googled Faline Di'amand, trying to figure out who this chick was and what made these books so damn popular. He was shocked at what popped up. Multiple websites, fan stories, links to every kind of social media imaginable. He clicked on an image and was rewarded with the official site for the series. He recognized one of the titles that Natalie had been able to identify and started reading up on it.
Suddenly, both Natalie and Sam let out a loud "HA!" at the same time. Dean jumped a mile- he'd been getting into the plot line of the book outlined on the website and had all but forgotten they were there.
"Shit, you two. You trying to give me a heart attack?" he grumbled.
"Sorry, Dad," Natalie chirped, before turning to Sam. "What'dya find?" she asked excitedly.
"Check it out," he said. "Apparently, Molly Bishop, that star from that sitcom in the eighties, met Faline at some awards ceremony three years ago." He turned his laptop towards Natalie so she could see the photo of Faline and Molly meeting on the red carpet. Natalie looked back up at Sam, confused.
"But Molly only died a month ago," she said, trying to make the connection. Sam shook his head and smiled knowingly.
"So get this," he said triumphantly, switching pages. "Molly's Facebook feed checked her in at Faline's house for a party, six weeks ago. Right before she dropped off the map. Two weeks later, bam. Dead."
"Holy shit, that's the same party that Kelsey was at!" Natalie said, turning her own laptop towards Sam and showing him. "See the picture? That's her and Faline." She enlarged the photo of the two women wearing cocktail attire with champagne flutes in their hands. "It's dated two weeks before Molly died, and it's exactly 6 weeks before Kelsey died." Sam and Natalie locked eyes for a moment.
"This is it. This is the connection," Sam said in wonder. Natalie squealed and bounced in her seat.
"Holy crap, does this mean we're going to meet Faline Di'amand?!" she asked.
"Well, IF this theory is true," Dean interjected loudly, causing both of their gazes to suddenly swing towards him. "Then I wouldn't get too excited, kiddo. Sounds like she's on the hook for multiple murders."
"Yeah, but…Faline Di'amand!" Natalie said excitedly. "Do you know how BIG that is?" Not wanting Dean to rain on her parade, she whipped back and looked at Sam. "Do you think we could sneak into a party at her place? To check it out?"
Sam couldn't help the gigantic grin that was slowly spreading across his face. "Sounds like we're going to have to." Despite the seriousness of the situation, he couldn't help but get excited right along with Natalie. "I mean, of course for the purposes of figuring out what's going on. But…wow…this one is cool!"
"Alright, Kirk and Spock, bring it back to Earth," Dean called out, once again snapping them back to reality. "How the hell are we gonna pull that one off?"
Natalie immediately sprang out of her chair, a wild idea forming in her mind. "Okay, hear me out," she said, as she started pacing. "What if I pose as some brand new up-and-coming starlet? You know, someone who's at the party because it's the place to be?"
"How the hell do you expect to get an invitation?" Sam asked incredulously. "We can't exactly manufacture a fake ID for that, Bug." Natalie waved her hands dismissively at his worries.
"Let me figure that out. It'll be fun! What do you say?" she asked excitedly, turning to look at the both of them. To her surprise, they looked at her as if she had lobsters crawling out of her ears. "What?" she asked, a touch defensively. "I can pull off one of those Hollywood ass-kissers."
Dean's response to that was pointedly looking her up and down, taking in the knotted flannel sleeves, the stained tank top, and the bare feet. He cocked at eyebrow at her that just screamed seriously? She gave him her best bitch face back.
"I haven't done laundry in a while, that's all!" she retorted hotly.
"When's the last time you even washed your hair?" Sam asked dryly. She thought about it for a moment- for a long moment. Just as Sam and Dean were giving each other the side eye, she crossed her arms tightly.
"Shut up," she mumbled. They grinned at each other, causing her to roll her eyes. "Look, just gimme a credit card and twenty four hours. I'll jump in the shower and hit the mall- you know, pick up something that Hollywood royalty would wear." She hugged herself in glee, but Dean's face twisted into displeasure. However, she wasn't done.
"Okay, so…we get you two in under the premise that you're….let's see…"
"We could be like your co-stars or something," Dean offered. He didn't mind being seen in a tux…with all those lovely young starlets that were bound to be at a place like this….
"Naw, you're too old for that," Natalie responded nonchalantly.
"Excuse me?!" he thundered back at her.
"Tell you what- why don't you be my bodyguards? That way we can stay close if we need to and no one will be the wiser."
Before Dean could interrupt again, Sam jumped in. "That's perfect! Alright. I'm going to start packing up the arsenal. How long to you think you'll be in town?"
Natalie squealed in joy and started making her way out of the room, talking over her shoulder as she went. "I'll be ready to hit the road tonight. I'm taking Fireflight into town!"
Dean, still pissed that she had called him old, threw at her. "Still a stupid name for a car!"
"You're just jealous because it's AWESOME and you didn't think of it first!" came the sing-songy voice from down the hallway.
Dean just stood there, arms crossed, gritting his molars together. First off, they were going to a party…with an AUTHOR…and if he knew his daughter, her idea of a 'movie star' look would probably involve her wearing something that would send his blood pressure through the roof….
Sam walked up to his brother. "You okay?" he asked, a bit concerned at the stoic look on Dean's face.
There was a moment of silence before Dean answered. "I'm going to hate this, aren't I?" Sam laid a sympathetic, brotherly hand on Dean's shoulder and squeezed.
"Yeah. Yeah, you will," he answered, not even trying to keep the grin from his voice. He slapped Dean on the shoulder convivially and headed towards the armory.
Stay tuned for Part 2!
