Hey everyone! Okay...so I was super tired the first time I tried to publish part 2 and accidentally re-submitted an old chapter of another story. YIKES! Thanks to tamilyn313 and hopeyourhappy for catching it!

So here's the real part 2, lol. Special thanks to Jenmm31! Enjoy!

A/N- this is part 2 of a 3 part story. In this story, Natalie is 20. Please see profile page for disclaimer.

Dean paced back and forth uncomfortably in the motel room they had set up camp in, just outside of Denver. For the fourth time in less than a minute, he pulled at the buttoned collar of his tux shirt uncomfortably.

Sam gave his brother a patronizing look. "Dean, leave it alone," he scolded yet again, before returning to his laptop.

"Freaking monkey suit," Dean grumbled, ignoring Sam tugging the collar away from his Adam's apple. "I still don't see why our Fed threads were such a 'give-away'," he said in a snide tone, recalling his daughter's stubborn reason why the brothers needed to be in tuxedoes.

From the bathroom where she had been holed up for over an hour, Natalie answered again. "Because we're crashing a freaking celebrity party!" she hollered back through the closed door. "You think those worn out suits are going to hold up? Besides," she continued in a slightly nicer tone to smooth over her dig at their typical work clothing. "You two look amazing in tuxedoes."

Dean turned and checked himself out in the mirror. Well, maybe the kid had a point. He straightened his bowtie and subtly looked over his shoulder. Sam was still absorbed in his laptop, and Natalie hadn't yet emerged from the bathroom. He slowly made a finger gun and pointed it at the mirror. He looked like James Bond. Awesome. He did a slow turn towards the mirror with the finger gun again. Even better. He shifted, watching his reflection, and then grabbed onto his lapels. "Bond. James Bond," he mouthed at himself in the mirror, thrilled with how cool he looked.

"Fifty-two, Dean. You're fifty-two," came Sam's dispassionate voice across the room. He didn't even need to look at his brother to know what he was doing. Dean immediately dropped his hands from his lapels.

"Shut up," he replied hotly, and without waiting for a response, he stomped over towards the bathroom door, red faced. He rapped on the door with his knuckles. "C'mon kid, get the lead out," he barked.

"Almost done!" she answered.

"Yeah, you said that ten minutes ago."

"And ten minutes away is almost done."

"Natalie…."

"Seriously, almost done!"

Dean just rolled his eyes and turned back towards Sam, determined to make sure something was going right. "You good on directions to this place? Got the invites?"

Sam looked up from the computer and nodded. "Yeah, got it all, we're good to go." A slight smile crept onto Sam's face- he knew what was coming next. And sure enough, Dean didn't disappoint.

"Still don't see why we had to rent a freaking car."

Sam sighed patiently, forcing his grin to stay in check. "Because this party is all about celebrities and rich people. No one will think we're part of that clique if we roll up in a car from last century."

Looking insulted, Dean pointed a finger in Sam's face. "Baby is a CLASSIC," he said in a threatening tone. "And if these rich assholes can't recognize that, then that ain't on me. I should be able to drive whatever I damn well please."

"It's only for one night."

"Yeah, well, I still hate it."

"I know. You've not left anyone in doubt as to how much you hate all of this." Before Sam could say anything else though, he stopped in shock, looking behind Dean. His mouth dropped open. Dean spun around like a top to see what it was that made Sam make that face. His own eyes went wide- wider than they had in a long time.

"Oh my god," Dean grumbled under his breath, sounding uncannily like Axl Rose in 'Welcome to the Jungle'.

Natalie was standing there, just outside of the door, looking like she had just stepped off a red carpet. Thin spaghetti straps gave way to a rose colored satin that hugged her in all the right places. The bottom of the dress just kissed the top of a pair of patent leather black heels that made her at least five inches taller. Her long black hair had been shaped into artfully soft waves, and one side was swept up and held in place by a silver clip molded into the shape of a crescent moon with a star next to it, scattered with diamonds. To compliment the clip, she had simple single drop diamond earrings on, and a singular thin diamond bracelet. Her green eyes popped with the subtle, natural looking shades on her eyes, and her cheeks seemed to be highlighted with a gentle rose-gold glow. She looked stunning. She also looked nervous.

"Well?" she asked in a falsely cheery voice. "What do you think?" She would never have admitted it, but she really wanted to impress her father and her uncle, and, if she was being honest, she was so excited about dressing up like this since she never got to do it that it was important that they liked and approved it. Her wide, excited eyes darted nervously back and forth between the two of them.

Sam slowly got up from the table and walked past his frozen brother. "Natalie," he said quietly. "You looking amazing." The fact that he had called her 'Natalie' instead of the usual 'Bug' told her that he was unequivocally telling the truth. Her face nearly split in two with her delighted smile.

"You think I'll pass as one of these starlet types?" she asked, her anxiety shooting through the roof while she struggled to keep the smile on her face to hide it. Sam nodded and smiled reassuringly. It was difficult for him to see his beloved niece looking so incredibly grown up, but he knew that she needed support and reassurance right now, so he kept his own feelings in check.

"Hell yeah," he said. "You did a great job. Definitely a far cry from your flannel and stained tank top," he grinned, teasing her.

She responded by rolling her eyes and playfully punching him on the arm. "Shut up," she said, giggling. There she was- there was the Natalie Sam knew. He chuckled in response, feeling a bit better knowing she wasn't completely gone.

Taking a deep breath, she looked past Sam to her father. Dean hadn't moved since she stepped out of the bathroom looking like a modern-day goddess. His face was still frozen in shock. Natalie didn't know if that was a good or a bad thing. She decided to grab this bull by the horns.

"So, Dad, what do you think?"

Dean didn't respond.

"Well, do you like it?"

Dean didn't respond.

"Come on, Dad, say something."

Abruptly, Dean broke his frozen state. "Nope. Not gonna happen," he growled, waving his hands in the air. "We'll find another way in. You ain't going out looking like that." Dean shook his head. She looked too….grown up. No way. Not on his watch.

"Come on, Dad, it's fine," she said in a soothing, placating tone, stepping forward to put her hand on his arm. He jerked his arm away before she could, knowing full well that she had him wrapped around her finger even if he'd never admit it. He knew that if he let her have even the tiniest foothold here, like touching his arm, he'd lose. And he hated to lose.

"No way. You're not going out with that much…" he trailed off as he gestured to her low cut top, unable or unwilling to say the words. "…THAT showing."

"Dean, it's not that bad," Sam said. "She'll still probably be the most covered-up one there."

"Don't care. Don't like it."

Natalie stifled a smile, knowing that his reticence meant that she did look incredible. She took another step into him. He held up his finger in warning.

"Stop," he growled at her.

"Daaaaaaaaad," she said, tilting her head to the side and smiling coyingly at him.

"Quit trying your Jedi mind tricks. They ain't gonna work."

"Come on."

"Shut your trap. The answer is no."

"Please…Daddy?"

Dammit. She broke out the big guns. Dean's face instantly pinched into a super sour look, which made her smile even wider. He glared at her for as long as he could stand while she stood there looking at him all wide-eyed and adoringly. Finally, he sighed angrily and pointed in her face.

"You get ONE- ONE of those a YEAR," he growled, referring to the fact that she knew calling him 'Daddy' was a sure-fire way to get what she wanted. She squealed delightedly and threw her arms around him like she was six years old instead of twenty.

"Thank you Dad, you're the best!" she gushed, silently laughing at how cranky and overprotective he could get in situations like this. In response, he patted her awkwardly on the back, while rolling his eyes at his brother, who was hiding his own snickers behind his hand.

"I told you I was gonna hate this," Dean growled at his little brother.

*SPN SPN SPN*

Roughly a half hour later, they pulled up to the sprawling mountainside mansion. Natalie had watched in awe as they approached from afar. The lights emanating from the building could be seen a half-mile away. Gorgeous and sumptuous, the exterior was constructed from a delicate balance of river rock and a rich, dark wood. The columns that supported the magnificent entryway tunnel must have been made from trees that were thousands of years old, they were so large. The landscape was perfect, but unusual. There were flourishing palmettos and palm trees instead of the typical oaks and maples usually found in Colorado. Odd. But each palm frond had been delicately wrapped in soft white twinkle lights, making it match the romance and mystery of the beautiful location.

As if to punctuate the wonder of the house, the sunset was showing off. The rich pinks and vibrant oranges splashing across the sky were giving way to the crushed purple velvet horizon, all making for a spectacular backdrop for the lively scene.

There were young men in bright red vests attempting to valet park all of the sleek, shiny cars, each one newer than the last. "Holy SHIT," Natalie breathed, stifling her child-like impulse to press her nose to the car window as she looked at the cavalcade of people pouring out onto the front lawn and hurrying into the house, seemingly oblivious to the stunning beauty of the landscape and architecture surrounding them. Natalie couldn't help but shake her head.

"Really?" she muttered, disgusted as she continued to watch. "These people are so desensitized to this kind of thing that they don't even stop to appreciate it. Really?!"

"Hey," Dean piped up from the driver's seat as he inched towards the front of the valet line. "Get in character. Remember, you're one of these douchebags, so you gotta pretend that you don't give a shit either."

"Thanks, Dad," she said with a grimace. "Great pep talk." Before Dean could come back with a biting remark, a young man in a red vest opened Natalie's door. She instantly slipped into the persona she had decided on, refusing to take the proffered hand and exiting the car gracefully, smiling at the young man benignly.

As she got her bearing under her- she was SO not used to walking in heels like this- the young man got a good look at her. His eyes popped with carnal appreciation. "Good evening, Miss," he said, giving her a wicked grin. Just then, a large hand smacked the boy on the chest. The valet looked up to see a six foot tall guy with short hair in a tux glowering down at him.

"Hey," the tall guy said menacingly. "The lady ain't interested in you, punk. Now how 'bout you park this car and shut your pie hole?" he finished forcefully. The young valet flushed the color of his vest and began to stammer an apology, but the giant bodyguard didn't want to hear it.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Just don't dent the car, got it Sparky?"

The valet jumped into the vehicle as if he'd been set on fire and the car was a bucket of cold water. As he zoomed off, Dean turned with a face-splitting grin to his daughter, who was glowering furiously at him.

"Well, how 'bout that?" he said cheerily, ignoring Natalie's bitch face. "Maybe this ain't gonna be so bad after all."

*SPN SPN SPN*

Two hours and a whirlwind later, none of the Winchesters had still met Faline. There were so many people crammed into the large and luxurious room that it was difficult to even MOVE, let alone try to single someone out.

The rich, dark wood of both the floors and the support beams seemed to swallow most of the soft overhead lighting, making it darker than was necessary. The incredibly large living room, where most of the party seemed to be taking place, was elegant and sumptuous. The humongous picture windows were each draped with thick tapestries of cheetah print, held back by gold, knotted cords. The far end of the room was sunken down, with large leather couches making a wide rectangle around a massive stone fireplace. On the couches were a myriad of carelessly tossed throw pillows, all in the same cheetah print as the draperies. The walls were bookshelves, crammed with thousands upon thousands of books. Natalie had nearly lost her mind at that, curious as all hell at what an incredible writer must have on her personal shelves. Dean had actually had to forcibly pull her away from the books. Every person in the room was holding a glass of either champagne or something stronger, and seemed intent on meeting everyone else- at least, as long as it benefitted them.

The vacuous, shallow pit of celebrities that Team Free Will had found themselves in was so thick with pretention and pompousness that it was almost difficult to breathe. On the one hand, it was exciting meeting these actors, athletes, and other famous people. But when it became apparent to most of them that Natalie, aka 'Arya Callas' -her chosen celebrity name- had not been in anything notable or had any significant connections that could give a person a leg up, she was quickly dismissed. It was a good thing- none of the Winchesters really wanted the attention, but it was getting a bit disheartening for the girl to be constantly brushed aside.

"It's not as if I have the plague or something," Natalie grumbled under her breath as yet another soap star gave her the once over and disingenuously excused themselves. "Are Hollywood types all really like this?" she asked, looking up at Sam.

He shrugged. "I don't know. This is kind of my first time around these types, too." He looked around for Dean, who had been lost in the crowd for about ten minutes at this point. When he couldn't find him, he sighed lightly and turned his attention back to his niece. "We did that case with the horror movie that one time- that was really it. Don't really remember the people per se, but I don't think they were this bad."

"Wasn't there something else one time? I think Pops told me about it…" Natalie asked, furrowing her brow, trying to remember. "Something with a case in an alternate universe, something about a TV show called Super-"

"No, no, that was- that didn't happen. A dream- he was telling you about a dream he had," Sam said in a rush. He and Dean had sworn not to tell her about that particular circumstance, but apparently had failed to fill Bobby in on that tidbit. Sam didn't want to think about any of that right now. Changing the subject rapidly, he leaned in towards Natalie, still looking around the crowded room. "You know, I'm starting to wonder if Faline is even here."

His distraction technique worked. Natalie heaved an irritated sigh. "Yeah, I'm starting to think the same thing. Any idea where Dad might be?" As if on cue, Dean appeared, a giant plate of appetizers in his hand. Both his brother and his daughter gave him the same bitch face. He chewed and swallowed with relish, his grin fading as he saw both of their looks.

"What?" he said defensively. "I chewed and swallowed before I talked. See?" Dean opened his mouth wide and stuck out his tongue, making Natalie snicker and Sam's bitch face just get bigger.

Sam just shook his head. "Are you ever gonna grow up?"

"Did you not just hear me say that I swallowed first?"

Just then, a very handsome young man came waltzing up to the group. He indicated the plate of food that Dean was holding in his hand. "I have to say, that's nice to see," the young man said, a touch of an ironic smile on his lips. Natalie looked up. The young man was tall- nearly Dean's height, but had carefully slicked, longish, light brown hair, and looked very dapper in a deep gray suit with a thin black tie. "Most people are so afraid of gaining an ounce here, they're avoiding even the smell of the food. Glad that someone is finally enjoying that."

"Yeah, he really does seem to be enjoying it, doesn't he?" Natalie said dryly about Dean, a slightly arched eyebrow at her father, but her lips twisted to the side showing her own amusement. Dean shrugged and grinned.

"It's good stuff, what can I say?" he said, before chowing down on another crab something or other.

The young man chuckled amiably. "Thank you," he said, the ghost of the grin on his face getting wider. Looking down at Natalie's curious gaze, he extended his hand to her. "My name is Elliott Shurtleff. My father owns the company that catered the party."

Natalie took the proffered hand and gave it a firm shake, just like Dean had taught her to long ago. She couldn't help but notice the piercing blue eyes that actually met hers. "Arya Callas," she said, a little more breathlessly than she had intended to. She indicated Sam and Dean, getting a grip on herself. "These gentlemen are my bodyguards." For the first time all evening, someone actually acknowledged them. Elliott stretched his hand towards Sam amiably.

"Elliott Shurtleff," Elliott said politely, then waited for their names. Natalie's eyes got wide. She had been so wrapped up in the party and trying to look for Faline, keep her head in the game and play a role that was completely foreign to her, that she was totally blanking on the fake names they had decided on for Sam and Dean, seeing as so far she hadn't needed to use them all night. And before Sam and Dean could introduce themselves, she blurted out the first thing she could think of.

"They're Gaston and Philippe. They're….French. French bodyguards," she said in a rush. Dean looked down at her with his well-practiced-to-hide-the-panic smile, and noticed curiously that she was flushing the same red as her dress. Sam cleared his throat awkwardly, but recovered quickly and shook Elliott's hand.

"Nice to meet you," Sam said smoothly, his own face flushing. Dean's eyes bounced back and forth between them. What was he missing? What was the joke? Elliott didn't seem to notice any of it as he shook Dean's hand in turn.

"Pleased to meet some people that don't seem to have their heads firmly lodged in their asses," Elliott said quietly, his grin infectious. Natalie couldn't help it- that actually made her laugh. She looked around conspiratorially with a coy grin.

"Oh good, I thought it was just me," she whispered charmingly. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Dean tense up, but heard Sam quietly clearing his throat again, reminding Dean to snap out of it.

Elliott smiled, and Natalie's heart stopped for a second. God, he was hot when he smiled. "No, definitely not just you. Would you…care for something to drink?" he asked politely.

Natalie couldn't help it- the charm turned on of its own accord. She was Dean Winchester's daughter after all, and such things were in her blood. She tilted her head coyingly to the side. "Can't seem to shake the job even for tonight, huh?" she teased gently, causing Elliott to blush and his grin to widen.

"I guess not. What I should have said was, would you like to go to the bar and get a drink with me?" Natalie was thrilled to see that the young man looked slightly nervous, like he was actually EXCITED that she might say yes. But before she could even take a step in his direction, an arrogant voice cleared his throat beside her.

"Miss Callas," Dean said in his no-nonsense voice, still playing his part but not able to quite shake the 'father' tone. "I don't know that it would be wise of you to be drinking this evening."

Natalie turned to him with a smile. The smile did not reach her eyes. "I'm sure that one small cocktail won't hurt. Beside, maybe Elliott can show me around this fine house," she said, raising a sardonic eyebrow at him. "I've been dying to have a look around," she purred over her shoulder at Elliott. She turned back around to see her fire matched in Dean's eyes. Before Dean could overreact yet again, Sam stepped in.

"Are you familiar with this house, Mr. Shurtleff?" he asked the young man conversationally.

Elliott nodded. "Oh yeah. We've done a couple parties here. Same old, same old." Sam's wheels were turning. If Natalie could get this guy to show her around, maybe she could find Faline or at least some clue to what might be happening here.

Elliott smiled sweetly at Natalie. "I'm going to go tell my dad that I'll be gone for a bit, then I'd love to show you around, if that's okay?"

"That would be great. See you in a minute!" she said, her charm still going full blast. As Elliott blushed and turned away, she bit her lip in excitement, then turned back to Sam and Dean. She instantly dropped the act and went into hunter mode.

"Okay," she said, looking around inconspicuously to make sure she couldn't be overheard. "I'm going with Elliott. As soon as I can, I'll ditch him and see if I can do a little snooping. I'll call you guys so I can tell you what's going on, okay?"

Seeing Natalie recover from Elliott's charms had an instant calming effect on her father. Dean nodded. "Good plan, kid. Just stay focused. You packin'?"

She smirked. "Always." She turned to Sam, who, for some reason, was looking at her with an arched brow. "What?" she said, confused.

"Gaston and Philippe?" he said slowly, enunciating the names. Dean looked back at his daughter to see what had been the big deal about those names, just in time to see her flush beet red again and look down at the ground again. What the hell was he missing?! Sam's arched eyebrow nearly reached his hairline. "And how exactly do you know those names? Those FRENCH BODYGUARD names?" Sam pressed.

Natalie squirmed and fidgeted for a moment. She REALLY didn't want to have to admit this- especially in front of Dean- but then a sudden realization made her stop. She looked up into Sam's face, catching him by surprise.

"Hang on. How do YOU know those names?" she asked back, her own eyebrow suddenly mirroring his. Sam blanched for a moment while the two of them locked eyes, both embarrassed, but both determined not to be the one to say it first. After a very awkward pause, Sam quietly cleared his throat.

"We never speak of this again?" he muttered to his niece.

"Deal," she muttered back, indecently fast. Luckily for them, Elliott came back right at that moment and extended his arm to Natalie.

"Shall we?" he said, his infectious grin sweeping her away. She smiled and slipped her hand through the crook of his elbow.

"Lead the way," she said sweetly. They walked away, dodging all the people, and then were lost in the crowd in a matter of moments. After reminding himself that Natalie was twenty and perfectly capable of taking care of herself, Dean turned to Sam.

"Alright. What the hell is up with the whole French twins thing?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Sam said, his face growing warm. He sure as hell wasn't telling his big brother and Natalie's father that those names came from the Fifty Shades of Grey books.

*SPN SPN SPN*

It hadn't been too hard to ditch Elliott. He was a nice guy, and just so incredibly good looking, but Natalie was quick to discover that he wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed. He had gotten her into the private corridors of the mansion, and she made a flimsy excuse about needing a restroom. He, of course, being the perfect gentleman, escorted her there and said he'd meet her back at the private library back down the hall. She felt slightly bad for deceiving him as she listened to him walk away- but she'd figure out some way to make it up to him later.

She slipped around the corner, watching carefully for any sign of another person. The long hallway had several doors, but was strangely devoid of any artwork- or really any color, for that matter. The walls and the ceiling were a soft eggshell white, with the crown molding and baseboards being bland beige. The thick grey carpet muffled any sound except the squeaking of her new heels, which she was insanely grateful she hadn't noticed until now, otherwise she would have been mortified all evening.

It struck her as bizarre that the hallway was the complete opposite of the main rooms where the party was being held. Her hunter sense started to tingle. It was just too different to be a coincidence. Once she was sure she was out of range of any listening ears, she pulled out her phone and called her dad.

Dean answered on the first ring. "You okay?" he asked gruffly, trying to disguise any worry in his voice. She rolled her eyes, grateful he couldn't see them.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she said quietly, looking around. "Are you guys out of earshot?"

"We're holed up in the bathroom around the corner from the kitchen."

"Yikes. I'll make it fast."

"Don't worry," Dean assured her. "You're on speaker, and this bathroom is big enough to play baseball in." Shaking her head again at the enormity of the house, Natalie got down to business.

"This place is weird," she said, then proceeded to describe the utilitarian hallway to them. "It just feels creepy," she finished up limply. She progressed slowly down the hallway, looking surreptiously around the corner first, then wound her way deeper into the house. She reached out, trying a couple handles on a couple doors, but they were all locked.

"Any cold spots?" Sam asked quietly.

"No, nothing," she said. "No sulfur, no cold spots, just nothing. And all the doors are locked, too." She turned and looked over her shoulder briefly. Still no one down the stark hallway. "I don't know. This might be a dead end."

"Alright. Give it two more minutes, kid, then if you still don't find anything, we can call it."

"Yes, sir," she answered back, a bit bitterly. She had been so sure there was a case here. She hated that she might be wrong. As she rounded the next corner, a sudden rush of heat came over her, and she stumbled against the wall, her balance suddenly thrown.

"Nat? What was that?" Dean's voice immediately barked through the phone. She cursed silently. He must have heard her hit the wall.

"Nothing. It was nothing. Just tripped," she said, suddenly furious at herself for her lack of coordination.

"Did you drink anything with that douchebag?" Dean's voice thundered through the phone. Before she even realized what she was doing, she thundered back.

"Oh, will you cool your jets?" she hissed bitterly into the phone. "You seriously think I'm stupid enough to take something that some hot piece of ass handed to me? Give me some fucking credit, would you? Just because I want to screw Elliott stupid isn't a reason to think that I'm a moron."

There was dead silence on the other end of the line. Natalie rolled her eyes and plowed resolutely down the hallway. Finally, after about five seconds, Dean spoke again.

"Excuse me?" He used that low, deadly tone that meant business.

"Oh, go to hell," Natalie spat back into the phone.

"What did you just say to me, little girl?!" Normally, that phrase would have made her quake in her high heels. But for some reason- she was feeling rebellious.

"Did I stutter, old man?" she said back mockingly. "Was it the part about you not trusting me, or that I'd fuck that Elliott kid blind in an instant? Which one's tripping you up?" She was beyond furious. Dean was always telling her what to do, how to do it, who to be. She could make up her own damn mind. Suddenly, she felt light as a feather- giddy even. "Hey," she said into the phone, all her earlier menace instantly forgotten. "Do you think I could do a cartwheel in this dress?" There was stunned silence again from the phone. "Yeah, I bet I could," she said, answering herself in a chipper voice.

"Natalie, are you drunk?" Sam's incredulous voice came through this time. She giggled.

"No, silly! I just think it'd be AWESOME to do a cartwheel in a gown that I look soooooooooo pretty in!"

"Natalie Grace, don't you dare-"

Without another word, Natalie hit 'end' on the phone. She didn't need them taking all the fun out of her life, and she could do a cartwheel if she damn well wanted to. Kicking off her heels and setting her phone down on the thick carpet, she prepped, and cartwheeled once. The dress didn't give her much room to spread her legs, so she crash landed as opposed to sticking the landing, but to her, it had been an unqualified success. She threw her hands up in the air, giggling and cheering loudly. Yeah, she was supposed to be quiet on a hunt- ah, screw it, this was fun.

Her phone rang loudly, disturbing her victory. Groaning loudly, she stomped back over to it. Sure enough, it was Dean. She immediately switched the phone to 'off'. Fuck him. What did he know. No fun at all.

Gathering up her heels, she kept plodding though the house. There was a door at the far end of the corridor. Seemed like as good a place as any to try before she blew this whole case off. She skipped down the hallway, swinging her shoes in the one hand and her phone in the other. Reaching the end, she tucked her phone under her arm to give her a free hand to open the door.

As she touched the handle, she was suddenly overwhelmed with a sense of terror. What if she was wrong? What if this case was a bust? Would Sam and Dean still let her hunt- hell, what if they kicked her out of the bunker because she just wasn't good enough to figure this out? She withdrew her hand quickly, as if the door knob were white hot. A small part of her brain registered that something was wrong- this wasn't like her to run from a fight. But the overwhelming feelings of failure and fear were crippling. Finally, as if to conquer the demons inside, she resolutely gripped the handle of the door. It twisted open.

She was visibly shaking as she slowly entered the room. The sheer terror was almost causing her to black out. She pinched her eyes shut and started whispering to herself.

"If you don't find anything, just lie to them about it. They won't hate you if you come up with something. Just lie about it. Just lie. It's okay if you don't find anything, but you have to lie about it if you don't." She forced herself to look up. She gasped at what she saw. She was not prepared for this.

Thousands of masks covered the walls of the room. There were so many of them that she could only barely glimpse the actual walls they were hanging on. They had been artfully arranged, perfectly spaced to account for the sheer number of them. They took the form of human faces, ranging from the crudest of the crude to the most exquisite fragile dreams. Every material known to man was represented. Natalie could easily find masks made of clay, wood, stone, silver, rock, papier-mache, gold, platinum, just by glancing at a small section of the wall. Several of the masks were painted as well. Some had been garishly splashed with every color of the rainbow, others had details so fine she suspected you could only truly appreciate the artistry if you had a magnifying glass. But that wasn't what surprised her the most.

Every mask seemed to be looking at her. As if every eye in every piece was tuned into her- and she did not belong. The energy, the overwhelming energy radiating from the walls was astonishing. Every single one of these masks had a story. She held her breath for a moment.

If she stopped breathing, she could hear the words they were whispering.

Without making the conscious thought to do so, she turned on her heel and fled the room. She flat out ran as fast as she could, still hampered by the tightness of her dress. The terror pounded in her head- she could feel the voices and the eyes following her. She rounded the corner, back down the hallway where she had ditched Elliott. Elliott. Yes. She needed human contact right now, needed someone to be a touchstone and call her down off the ledge.

Natalie forced herself to stop, leaning one hand against the wall as she gasped for air from her mad dash. Luckily, she had been training for runs like that all her life, so it only really took her a moment to compose herself. She quickly put on her heels again, smoothing down her hair. She looked down at her phone. Huh. 4 missed calls. Idly she wondered who they were from. But she had more important matters to attend to.

She casually strolled into the private library. Sure enough, Elliott was still waiting for her. She walked steadily towards him, a predatory look in her eye.

"Oh, hey," he said. "I wasn't sure if you-" He didn't get a chance to finish the sentence before she threw herself at him and crushed her lips to his.

The red ornate mask on the wall looked down on them.

*SPN SPN SPN*

A split second after Natalie had hung up on them, Dean called her back. And again. And again. Each time she didn't answer, his temper rose. Finally, after the fourth time, Dean stormed out of the bathroom, pushing people out of his way as he made a beeline for the direction he had watching her leave in.

Sam followed, trying to keep up with a furious Dean and apologize to everyone his brother was currently steamrolling over in his efforts to find his daughter. "Sorry, sorry," Sam mumbled to some old guy who looked affronted. He finally gave up trying to make things right and simply just tried to catch up. Sam caught the back of Dean's jacket as he was about to punch another door out of his way.

"Dude, dude, dude," Sam hissed frantically. The pressure of Sam's hand on his collar just barely made Dean stop and whip around to face his brother. Sam could see the smoke pouring out of Dean's nostrils. He immediately backed off, holding his hands up in surrender. "Hey," he said in a gentler tone. "You need to calm down."

"I'm going to kill her, Sam."

"Look, I know that's what you want to do right now-"

"No, that's what I'm GOING to do right now."

"But she may had said that because she was in ear shot of someone or-"

Dean didn't even wait for him to finish the sentence. "Don't care. Gonna kill her." He shoved the door open and stormed down the hallway. Sam hurried to keep up. Dean looked around. Stark, white, boring. Exactly what she had been describing. Good. He was on the right track.

They both simultaneously heard a thump and a crash from a room about 4 doors down. Before Sam could grab him again, Dean lit off towards the room, kicking the door open in his anger. The first thing he saw was the globe that had fallen off the desk- the source of the crash he heard. The second thing he saw was what had caused the globe to fall off in the first place.

Natalie and Elliott were on top of the desk, savagely making out. She was on top of him, her skirt hiked halfway up her thighs. Her hands were twisted in his hair, and he was kissing her back so hard her lips were going to be bruised. All the air left Dean's lungs. Sam rushed into the room right after him, and also froze immediately upon seeing the two of them.

Finally, Dean gathered up enough air to speak. "HEY!" he roared. Elliott jumped a mile, pulling his lips away from Natalie in utter shock at the rude interruption. He tried to stand up straight, but Natalie grasped the lapels of his jacket and pulled him back to her.

"Wait! Just…hey-" Elliott tried to protest as she pressed her lips to his again. "Hey- you gotta….there's people…your bodyguards are here!" he finally managed to spit out as he struggled out of Natalie's strong grip. She finally heaved a sigh and let him go. Elliott struggled to stand up without dumping her on the floor. With another eye roll, she slid off him, carelessly smoothing out the skirt of her dress as she went. Elliott looked wildly back and forth between the two tall, fuming men, and the smoking hot siren he'd just been making out with.

"So…um…" he said, his eyes darting like he was at Wimbledon. "I…that was…"

"Nope," Dean roared, his eyes shooting daggers at the kid. Elliott jumped another mile at the sound. He swallowed hard, then looked back at Natalie once again.

"Can, um, can I call you or…"

"NOPE."

Elliott didn't need to be told twice. The poor guy flushed bright red, gave Natalie an awkward little wave, and flew past the Winchester men as fast as he could while retaining some shred of dignity, shutting the door behind him as quickly as he could.

Natalie, meanwhile, was supremely unconcerned about the situation. She giggled low, under her breath, and shifted her bra back into place without giving a damn that her uncle and father were right there. When she saw their eyes popping at her inappropriate adjustments, she grinned mischievously.

"Well. That was fun," she said coolly. She began walking towards the brothers, when she suddenly felt woozy again- like she had about ten minutes ago in the hallway. She nearly stumbled again on her impossibly high heels. Sam made a quick move to catch her, but she righted herself before he could reach her.

"Whoa. Head rush," she muttered. It felt like she had had one too many, but she hadn't even had a sip of anything tonight. She shook her head, pressing her hand to her cheek. Where was she? And why exactly did her lips feel sore? It was then that she noticed the look of incredulity on Sam's face, and the absolute fury on Dean's.

"What?" she asked innocently.