Good morning! Happy Monday!

Triple checking to make sure I got the right story this time, ha ha. Here's part 3- enjoy! Special thanks to Jenmm31 :)

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

"Dad, I SWEAR that wasn't me."

Still seething, Dean paced around the room, ignoring her heartfelt plea. After catching her getting hot and heavy in the library with that kid, Dean had all but dragged her by the hair, cave-man style, out of Faline's house. Of course they had played their parts until getting in the car, but once in there, Dean had absolutely let loose on her, ripping her several new ones as he lead-footed it back to their motel. Even now, sitting in their motel room about an hour later, he was still going strong.

"Natalie, just save it," he snarled back at her. "I don't know what the hell got into you back there that made you think you could talk to me like that-"

"For the millionth time, that wasn't me!"

Dean whipped around, ready to tear her apart, but she instantly realized her horrendous mistake in her tone. She dropped her eyes and held up her hands quickly, placating him. "I'm sorry, sir, I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I didn't mean that the way it came out. I meant no disrespect. At all." She sneaked a quick look up through her lashes to see if she had put out the fire she had inadvertently created.

Dean was still red in the face, but the veins in his neck were no longer pulsing. That was a good thing. He resumed his pacing back and forth. Natalie breathed a small sigh of relief, and looked over at her uncle. Sam had been sitting at the small table in the room, elbows on his knees and his fingers tented together while Dean had been ripping her apart. Natalie knew that a silent Sam was a pissed off Sam, but she was also more likely to get him to see reason first.

"Uncle Sam," she said quietly, sneaking a look at Dean every now and then to make sure her talking to Sam wasn't going to fuel his rage. "Look. I don't even remember what you guys are saying that I said. What did I say? What did I do that's made you so mad?"

Sam raised his eyes to his niece's, briefly. He then brought his tented hands up to his lips, as if trying to decide to tell her or not. Finally, he took a deep breath and spoke.

"Natalie," he said in a calm, even tone. That surprised her- and scared her. She knew what that tone meant; she was in even more trouble than she had realized. "Natalie, you basically told us to get bent, and that you were going to do what you wanted to, and then you hung up on us." He watched her carefully for her reaction.

Natalie's mouth dropped open in shock. Her eyes darted back and forth between her uncle and her father, while her brain tried to play catch up. Before she could say anything, Dean interrupted her thoughts.

"And that's the PG-13 version of what you actually said, little girl," he growled. For some reason, his words stoked the small, burning ember that was still inside her. She was careful to modify her voice, but she spoke her mind, determined to make them understand.

"Dad, I would never- NEVER say anything like that to you. Especially when we're on a case. I mean, does that even SOUND like me?" she said calmly, making sure that she wasn't coming across as hostile or argumentative. Her gaze bore a hole into the side of Dean's head, willing him to see reason. He kept pacing, but his expression didn't change. Natalie knew that meant he was listening, so she kept going.

"Look, I honestly don't remember what I said. I really don't- but for whatever it was, I'm sorry, okay? I'm really sorry," she pleaded, hating that neither of them believed her right now. Suddenly, she got a small rush of a memory. Something…something recent…a terrible fear that she was no longer part of Team Free Will….she gasped out loud, causing both the brothers' heads to turn in her direction.

She gripped the edge of the bed, starting to hyperventilate, as the memory of the inexplicable fear she had felt came rushing back and took over. She took a gasping breath as if her lungs were closing off, and tears began pouring down her cheeks as she struggled to remember.

Forgetting his anger entirely, Dean rushed over to her, grabbing her face in his hands. "Natalie?" he barked, the fear in his voice prominent. "Natalie, what's the matter?"

She couldn't answer- she was still trying to breath. She put her hands on top of his hands, pressing him to her. His touch had always been soothing to her, but right now, it was a lifeline. She looked him right in the eyes, holding on, fighting the terror in her head with the knowledge that he loved her and would never let her go. Gradually, after several moments, her breathing slowed, and Dean saw sense return to her eyes.

"Kid?" he asked, his voice even more frantic. "What is it? Are you hurt? What's going on?" Dean's panicked eyes searched hers as she began to calm down. She was finally able to draw a deep, full breath into her lungs. She curled her fingers around his palms and gently pulled them away from her face, but she didn't let go.

"I'm okay," she whispered, her lungs still not fully recovered. "I'm okay now."

"Sam," Dean barked over his shoulder, but he didn't need to. He hadn't realized it, but when Natalie started having the panic attack, he had rushed over and was standing right behind his brother, ready to help however he could. Dean felt relieved that Sam was right there, all along.

Sam stepped to the side, kneeling down beside his niece as he carefully examined her face. "You okay, Bug? What happened?" he asked gently.

Still breathing hard, she looked over at him, "It's okay. I'm okay now. But I… remembered something."

The brothers exchanged a quick look, before Dean focused back on her. "What did you remember?" he asked in a low, controlled voice. He still wasn't sold on her whole story, but he knew her well enough that she wouldn't have faked that kind of thing, even to get herself out of trouble. Maybe she was telling the truth.

Taking another deep breath to steady herself, she shook her head as she tried to articulate the memory. "It was…it was this fear, this….overwhelming terror. Like…" She started gasping again as she tried to speak. Dean shifted quickly to try to give her some space, his hands hampered by the grip she still had on them, but that made her realize that she DID have a hold on him. She squeezed as if her life depended on it. Dean's shocked gaze flicked down to their clenched hands as her grip redoubled. It was actually painful. The only time he could ever remember someone holding on this tight was Natalie's mother when she was in labor. That suddenly clued Dean in to the intense pain that his daughter was experiencing.

"Nat," he said softly, in a soothing tone, willing the panic to stay out of his words. "I'm right here. Not going anywhere. You're safe. I'm here, Sam's here. You're safe, kiddo. You're safe."

Upon hearing this, Natalie forced herself to look up at him again. She hung on, watching his mouth say the words. Her breathing eased up. She suddenly realized how tight she was gripping her father's hand. She let go, flushing bright red.

"Sorry," she mumbled.

"It's okay," he replied gruffly, shaking his hand and giving her a lopsided smile. "That's some kung-fu grip you got there, kid." He was relieved when she smiled back. He hated to introduce the tension back into the conversation, but he had to know. "What was that?"

"It's how I felt, in that moment. Like…like all the fear in the world was suddenly staring me right in the face."

"Okay," Dean said calmly, shoving down his anger because he needed her to be okay, and rubbing his hand gently up and down her arm. "We don't gotta talk about this right now. Why don't you just take a shower, see if that'll help you calm down, okay?"

Natalie swallowed hard, but braced herself with a steely glint in her eye. She gritted her teeth and wiped her streaming eyes, annoyed with herself for crying. "No," she said, determination permeating her voice. "I can do this. I can talk about it."

Dean's face became rigid with pain as he realized how much she was struggling. "Kid, look…" he began, but trailed off. She shook her head, and without waiting for him to say anything else, started telling her side of the story.

"I was walking into a room, down the corridor, and right before I opened the door, this…I don't know what you want to call it, but for lack of a better word…rush came over me. And I got scared. Really scared."

"What were you scared about?" Sam asked gently, searching her face.

"That I wasn't going to find anything," Natalie admitted in a hushed tone.

"Why would that scare you?" Dean asked, confused.

"Because if I came back empty handed- if I found nothing, then…then I was convinced that you guys…wouldn't love me anymore," she mumbled, shame-faced. It was Dean's turn to react in shock.

"You thought that I wouldn't love you if you didn't find anything behind a door?" he asked incredulously. Natalie shook her head, frustrated.

"Yes and no. Like, there was a tiny, rational part of my brain that knew it wasn't true, but at the same time, the emotion was completely drowning me," she tried to explain.

"Any idea what brought on the emotion?"

"No clue. Maybe when I touched the door knob?"

"Hang on," Sam said slowly. "Was that before or after you wanted to cartwheel down the hallway?"

Natalie sat up straight in surprise. "When I what now?" she asked, stupefied.

"You said that you wanted to cartwheel down the hallway in your dress, just to see if you could."

Natalie just stared at the both of them. "I did?" she asked, her eyes darting back and forth, unable to believe it. "Was I drunk?"

Sam gave a reluctant chuckle. "That's exactly what I asked you. So you don't remember that?" Natalie looked down at the carpet, willing herself to remember. A sudden image of her towering heels dangling from her hand as she skipped down the hallway made her gasp, and then giggle. She succumbed to the laughter, looking up at Sam and Dean, wondering why they weren't laughing, too. Seeing the blank and incredulous looks on their faces snapped her back to reality.

She stopped laughing, horrified. "What the hell is happening to me?" she hissed, looking both terrified and pissed off at the same time. She suddenly stood up from the edge of the bed and stomped over to the gear bag. Sam and Dean had sprung backwards to stay out of her way, and could only watch as she furiously dug through the duffle.

"What are you doing?" Dean asked gruffly to hide his confusion. She answered by tossing a knife onto the bed, and unscrewing a flask of holy water.

"Testing myself," she said stubbornly. Before either one of them could say anything, she took a shot of holy water. She held it in her mouth for a moment, before angrily rolling her eyes and swallowing. Realizing what she was about to do next, Sam stepped forward.

"Natalie, you have the tattoo, you're not-" was all he got out before she picked up the silver knife and cut a gash in her arm.

"Dammit," she hissed, annoyed.

"You're pissed that you're NOT possessed?" Dean said sarcastically.

"I'm pissed that I don't know what's going on," she said back bitterly, before heaving a huge sigh and looking at him again. "I'm sorry," she murmured. "Didn't mean it in that tone."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Dean said, willing to give her a pass on this one. "C'mere, let me fix that up," he said, gesturing to her cut. Sam reached over and took the knife out of her hand before she could protest, and nodded towards Dean. She got the message loud and clear- just obey right now.

Dean pulled out the med kit and started carefully cleaning the cut. Natalie bit her lip, thinking. Finally she spoke. "I really said I wanted to cartwheel?" she asked. Her tone was so disgusted, that it made Dean crack a smile.

"Guess you were suddenly anxious to relive your childhood."

"I haven't cartwheeled since I was… what? Ten? Why the hell would I want to do that now?"

"Don't know, kid, but you suddenly changed from raging bitch to six year old in a heart beat. That's when you hung up."

All of the sudden, it all came rushing back to her. The words, the actions, and….

"There was a room," she said in a whisper. "A room full of masks." That caught both boys' attentions. They focused intently on her. "There were thousands of them, lining the walls. They were…they were telling me things."

"Telling you things?" Sam asked, gently, carefully stepping closer to hear better. "What kind of things?"

Natalie shook her head. "I don't know," she said in a hushed tone. "There were so many of them I couldn't make out what any of them were saying. It was as if a thousand people were all telling me all their secrets at once."

"Maybe those voices had something to do with those mood swings you were having," Sam theorized quietly. She shrugged.

"Maybe?" she said, looking back at him. "I mean….oh my god…." she trailed off, a look of horror blooming on her face.

Dean grabbed her hands again, worried that she was spinning her wheels and going off the cliff again. "Natalie, what is it?" he said loudly, out of fear. But she brought her hands up to her mouth as she remembered.

"I….with Elliott…and you guys saw….oh my god," she choked out as she remembered her father and uncle walking in on her on top of that poor boy.

Borrowing a page from his brother earlier in the evening, Dean's focused quickly shifted away from them. "We never speak of this again," he said in a forceful tone.

"Agreed," Natalie said abashedly, and Sam said wholeheartedly.

*SPN SPN SPN*

The next night, Dean and Natalie had snuck back into Faline's house to try to find the room with the masks again and figure out what was happening. There had been a battle royale about Natalie going back in, but as she stubbornly asserted, she was the only one who knew the way back to the mask room. Sam was staying on the perimeter of the house, just in case. Dean had insisted on being the one to go in with her, just in case whatever it was caused her to go off the rails again.

They had found all sorts of research on haunted masks, cursed masks, possessed masks, all of it. There were traits of everything that Natalie had experienced in all the lore. The Winchesters came to the conclusion that it was the influence of these masks that lead to all of the suicides. The emotional energy coming off them was clearly altering people's minds. Natalie had confirmed that all the emotions had felt so genuine and overwhelming that she didn't have a choice BUT to follow them. So their mission became clear- destroy the masks.

"Dad, I still don't get how we're going to do this," Natalie whispered over her shoulder as she lead them down the hallway. "There's literally THOUSANDS of them."

Dean shrugged in that nonchalant I-don't-give-a-fuck way that he had. "We'll light 'em up. Bam. Done."

"So we're going to set the house on fire."

"If we have to."

"And you don't see any problems with that."

"Nope."

Natalie just rolled her eyes and continued moving down the hallway. She got to the section where she had experienced the first rush of emotion. Stopping nervously, she took a deep breath and looked at Dean.

"This is the spot?" he asked quietly. She nodded, her fear evident. He reached out, curling a large hand around the back of her head comfortingly. "Hey," he said. Their secret code-word for 'I love you'. Natalie smiled back immediately.

"I know," she responded like she always did. "You too."

"I know." He stepped around in front of her, leading the way from here on. As if a silent command were issued, they both drew their guns simultaneously. They were too used to moving in sync to even notice. They proceeded carefully down the hallway. Natalie braced herself for the rush, but as she stepped further and further into the corridor, she was surprised to realize that it didn't come. She looked all around herself, as if expecting to see something, but there was just nothing.

Using hand signals, Natalie guided them back to the door. As they approached, she took another quick assessment, but no crazy emotions or irrational thoughts came. As much as she didn't want to relive those moments, it did send up a red flag for her. Why wasn't it affecting her now?

Dean slowly reached out towards the door handle. He looked behind him- Natalie was focused. Her .45 held up, at the ready, and he saw that fire in her eyes that always preceded a hunt. Feeling a stab of pride, he nodded at her, then slowly twisted the handle. It came open easily. Too easily. The doorway slammed open and turned into a black hole that sucked them both inside in an instant.

The next thing he knew, Dean was laying on the floor of a stark, white room. Quickly getting his bearings, he scrambled to his feet, and heard more than saw Natalie doing that behind him. He whipped around, trying to see anything other than tall, white walls, but there was nothing.

A soft clapping sound resonated through the room. Dean looked at Natalie, who was looking back at him. Neither one of them were making that sound. Dean's eyes were drawn upwards as he located the source.

An older woman suddenly materialized out of thin air. She had short, grey hair that was curling softly around her face. She was wearing long robes of thick and heavy cheetah-print cloth. As she continued clapping mockingly, the wall morphed again, creating a balcony under her feet. "Well, well, well," she said softly, her dark green eyes sparking dangerously. "You made it back. I wasn't sure if you actually had the guts to follow through."

Dean was about to ask the bitch who she was, when Natalie stepped up right next to him. "You're Faline Di'amand," she said breathlessly, eagerly. Dean just turned to his daughter with an annoyed look.

"Really?" he said. "You're fangirling now?" Natalie shrugged defensively, but didn't take her eyes off the woman.

"It's alright, Dean, I have that effect on my fans," she said in a superior tone. Dean's eyes shot back to the woman at the mention of his name. How the hell did she know that? But once again, before he could speak, she answered his unspoken question. "That's right, I know who you are. Both of you. Dean and Natalie Winchester," she said. "Forgive ME for not 'fangirling', as you say, but…I'm not really a fan."

"How do you know who we are?" Natalie said hotly. Dean felt relieved that she was back onside.

"Because everyone knows the Winchesters, my dear," Faline said graciously. "The three 'best hunters in the world', according to some. Although that's arguable," she said in a soft, condescending tone.

"Yeah?" Dean shot back. "Why don't you come down here and let's test that theory."

Faline gave a soft laugh with no humor behind it. "That's not necessary. I haven't lived for thousands of generations only to be drawn in to a pissing contest with someone who will try as hard as he can to kill me."

"Thousands of generations?" Natalie repeated back, her brow furrowing. "You're a writer from Colorado."

Faline tilted her head as if to say are you kidding me? "Surely you've worked out by now that I'm no mere writer. I'm no mere mortal, either." With a condescending laugh, she continued. "See? I knew you weren't the best." Faline clasped her hands together in front of her royally, looking smug and powerful. "My true name is Seshat. I am the goddess of wisdom, knowledge, and writing."

"Sea Shack?" Dean said dryly. "Stupid name. What- did you have a fling with Aquaman or something?" The goddess turned her angry eyes to him. He braced himself, but nothing happened.

"She's an Egyptian goddess," Natalie mumbled out of the corner of her mouth. "Invented writing," she added. The dark green eyes shifted over to her.

"Ah. The young one knows of me," she said, a thrill in her voice. "That's as it should be. I was revered for hundreds of years. Worshipped for the great gifts I bestowed upon mortals. But since then-"

"Let me guess," Dean broke in rudely. "No one worships you any more, no one even knows your name, blah blah blah." He actually rolled his eyes at the goddess. "Yeah, we've heard that one before, sister." He looked over at Natalie with a mocking grin, but they both knew what he was really doing. When Dean baited a monster like that, it gave Natalie a chance to observe the surroundings for any foothold they might gain over it without being noticed. However, there was just nothing- nothing at all. And when his gaze swung to Natalie, he could see that in her face. Gritting his teeth, he focused back on the goddess.

For all the mocking that Dean gave her, she suddenly looked calm. Smug even. "Oh no. Quite the opposite, Dean. I have made myself famous again. A series of books, read the world over, beloved by millions." She paced back and forth on her balcony, a handrail materializing beneath her hand. Dean's brow furrowed. She was manipulating the room, causing it to do what she wanted it to. Natalie had been sure that this was the room with the masks. And maybe it was- but it was only appearing this way because Faline- Seshat- whatever- wanted it to. Dean chewed on his tongue in thought as Seshat kept speaking.

"I worked for my fame. I earned it. Unlike those 'celebrity' idiots here in this day and age. People do one semi-exceptional thing and they're venerated as gods. They are merely flashes in the pan, and no one recognizes TRUE greatness anymore." The goddess leaned forward, an insane gleam in her eye. "I created worlds out of words. I should be adored for what I have done. After all, writing- the written language- that is my child. I gave birth to it, and the world has evolved so rapidly because of it. And no one even stops to say thank you. So I decided to MAKE them tell me how much they adored me." She smiled smugly and began pacing back and forth on the balcony. "I wrote about the deaths of the unexceptional, and this world is so obsessed with the ordinary that it ate it up. It was easy to re-gain my fame- the fame that was owed to me."

"By killing people? That was your big plan to get people to pay attention to your sorry ass?" Natalie spat at her. Seshat gave a mocking little laugh.

"See, there's the cleverness of the whole deal," she said, turning her attention down towards the girl. "I never lifted a finger. I had all my little friends to help me with that." She carelessly waved her hand, and the room shifted. The white walls disappeared and were once again filled with thousands of masks, exactly how Natalie remembered. Dean gaped at the sight of them. Natalie hadn't been exaggerating. The sheer number of masks was astounding. Dean couldn't shake the feeling of a thousand eyes watching him all at once.

"My masks," Seshat cooed lovingly, reaching out to stroke one of them. "After being forced to wear the mask of 'consort', no longer 'goddess'," she sneered, "it was the perfect poetic irony. Collected over a thousand generations, each one of my masks holds a story. Beautiful, provocative, electric words. Stories of love, hate, greed, murder, jealousy…the list goes on and on." She smiled wickedly down at the Winchesters. "I keep these stories trapped in the masks. I won't let them out until I want to. Call them my…muses, if you will. See, all I have to do…." She reached out and touched one of the masks, and a faint, blue wisp, no more prominent than a puff of smoke, emerged from its eyes. It wound itself around her fingers. Seshat stroked it lovingly. "I can take these stories, and I can make people listen. I can make them hear what I want them to. See what I want them to see. Feel what I want them to feel. All with the power of words."

Dean saw his daughter sneak a quick look at him out of his periphery, but he didn't dare look back. He had to figure out a way out of this. He knew the only way to kill an Egyptian deity was a ram's horn- not exactly what you carry into a covert operation. He couldn't tell which way this bitch was gonna jump, and he couldn't afford to lose a second of focus. Seshat waved her hand carelessly again, and the masks faded away as the room became stark white again.

"I couldn't believe my own luck when none other than the fabled Winchesters strolled right up into my home," Seshat said gleefully, biting her lip in anticipation. "Now the WINCHESTER brothers- that's the stuff of legends." She winked maliciously at Dean before turning back to Natalie. "And you even brought the sequel," she said condescendingly. Her evil green eyes shifted back to Dean. "But as we all know, the sequels are never as good."

Dean saw red for a moment. "You shut your mouth, bitch," he snarled at the goddess, furious that she had taken a pot shot at his daughter. He drew his gun and pointed it at Seshat, purely out of spite. He didn't care if he couldn't kill her with it. It would feel good to just shoot a few rounds into the bitch.

"Oh, I will," she said softly. "I'll let you do all the talking."

With another wave of her hand, a dark grey wisp streaked out of the wall and appeared right behind Natalie. Before Dean could react, it dove straight into the back of her head. She stumbled forward for moment, appearing to lose her balance. She shook her head once, then righted herself.

"Kid, you okay?" Dean asked, panic lacing his voice. But instead of the nod or the firm 'yeah' he was expecting from her, Natalie took a step back in surprise.

"What did you say?" she asked, confused. Dean shot a quick look up at Seshat. The goddess was smiling down cruelly. He looked back at his daughter.

"I asked if you were okay," he said cautiously, not sure what was happening to her. She might get violent and experience another mood swing. He braced himself, but was completely thrown by her reaction.

"Wh-why would you say that?" Natalie asked, her eyes wide with hurt. Panic shot through Dean, and he turned to Seshat furiously.

"What are you doing to her, you bitch?!" he snarled. Seshat giggled mockingly.

"I'm twisting your words in her brain. Or rather- the vengeful spirit of the mask that's inside her is," she replied softly. Dean's eyes went wide, and he focused back on Natalie. She was staring at him like she had never seen him before. "It doesn't matter what you say- she's going to hear something else. Whatever I want her to hear. Things that she's terrified that you'd always say," the goddess said gleefully, leaning forward onto the railing so she could see better.

Dean whipped around. "Natalie," he said gently, taking his time. "Whatever you're hearing from me isn't real." Instead of the relief that he was hoping to see, her face fell like he'd just said something else nasty. Before he could really think about it, he rushed up to Natalie and grabbed her arm. She gasped like he had her by the throat. She began clawing at his arm.

"Stop it! You're hurting me!" she screeched, obviously in pain. Dean dropped her arm like a hot potato and shot daggers at Seshat again.

"Oh- I forgot to tell you," Seshat said mischievously. "It's twisting your actions too." She shrugged impishly, grinning a most horrible grin at him.

Dean didn't know what to do. He couldn't touch Natalie without her thinking he was hurting her. He couldn't speak without her hearing something terrible. And he knew these vindictive types all too well- if he did nothing, the goddess would come up with some other way to torture his Baby Girl.

Dean spun on his heel and looked up. "HEY!" he roared at Seshat. Her eyebrows went up as if she was pleasantly surprised. "Leave the kid alone. Take me instead," he said in a forceful tone.

"Dad…how could you…"

He whipped back around to see tears streaming down Natalie's face. His heart nearly tore in two.

"Natalie," he said, instinctively reaching out to her. Suddenly, her head twisted sharply to the side like she had been slapped, and she crumpled to the floor. Realizing that Natalie just thought that he backhanded her, he took a step back.

"I'm so sorry," he said, his voice strangled with pain. But this time- he could hear something different. He heard something like a whisper- a whisper in his own voice. It echoed around the room. He clearly heard. "I'm not sorry."

He shook his head, gritting his teeth. "I didn't mean to do that!" he barked, starting to panic. "I've always wanted to do that," came the resounding echo. Upon hearing that, Natalie cupped her hand to her cheek.

"But…why?" she choked out, tears still streaming down her face. "I thought you loved me."

"I do!" he said desperately.

"Who could?"

Dean roared in frustration as the words hit his ears, as he watched his beloved little girl dissolve into tears. Not able to tear his eyes off her, he yelled up to the goddess.

"Stop this! Stop this NOW!" he screamed at her.

"Why don't you end it all now?"

The silence that hung around the room after those words faded into nothingness was soul-consuming. Dean watched, helpless, as Natalie looked at him in more pain than he'd ever seen her in. With a shaking hand, she raised her .45 and put the barrel in her mouth.

"NO!" Dean hollered, diving for her. He knocked the gun out of her hand, but she gave a sickening scream like he had kicked her in the face, and she went flying backwards. She landed roughly, smacking her head against the floor. Dean's heart shattered when he saw the nasty cut streaming blood into her weeping eyes. But she didn't stop. She drew herself up to at least be able to crawl, and reached again for the gun.

He didn't know what else to do. He couldn't let her touch that gun- she'd…no, he couldn't think that. He had to stop her. But how could he when he couldn't touch her without causing his precious child more pain?! Suddenly, it dawned on him. If words had as much power as Seshat said….

Dean rushed forward, kicking the gun way out of Natalie's reach. He grabbed her face in his hands.

"No, no please!" she screamed at him, terrified. "Just let me end it! You'll never have to see me ever again! I'll be gone forever! PLEASE!" she wailed, clawing at his hands, fighting his grip. Dean summoned every amount of courage, bravery, stubbornness and fight that he could. He looked his beloved daughter right in the eye.

"I KNOW!" he yelled right into her face.

Instantly, Natalie stopped fighting him. Her eyes went wide. Wildly praying that he was getting through to her, he said it again. "NATALIE, I KNOW!" he said firmly, pouring everything he had, everything he felt for her into those two words, making sure to look her dead in the eye. Her breath hitched once, twice.

"Daddy?" she whispered, almost as if she was afraid to say the words. Dean knew he was finally getting through to her. The power of his love for her, always expressed in those two words, was enough to break through this horrible spell. These words of love could save her. He put every fiber of his being into his next ones.

"Baby Girl! You gotta fight this!" he said, willing her to hear him so hard he thought his muscles might snap from the tension. He listened carefully, but didn't hear the echo this time.

"How are you doing that?!" Seshat hissed from above. "You can't undo what I've done to her!" Dean ignored the goddess, staying focused on his Baby Girl.

"Listen to me," he murmured. "Stay with me. Okay? Don't believe what you hear. Trust what you KNOW. Because I KNOW." He watched her fearfully, worried that he would lose her again. Suddenly, he saw the dawn in her eyes. Natalie threw her arms around his neck, weeping copiously. He gripped her as tight as he could.

"I'm not letting go- I'm not letting go," he whispered. "Stay with me." Natalie just nodded, taking deep breaths to get in control.

"NO!" Seshat screamed, waving her hands again. Several streaks of silvery blue light suddenly shot from the blank white walls, which gave ominous ripples before settling back into flat blandness. The goddess pointed at Natalie, and as one, the lights all slammed into the girl. With a scream, Natalie's grip on Dean broke, and her back arched so suddenly she almost fell. Dean just managed to hold on to her, but even that was challenged as she began violently fighting him.

"LET ME GO! JUST LET ME DIE!" she screamed, thrashing against him as hard as she could, trying to break his grip so she could get to her gun. With every ounce of courage, every fiber of his being, everything that he could muster from heaven and hell, Dean held on. He gripped her wrists in an ironclad hold, and fought back.

"C'MON KID, FIGHT THIS!" he screamed right back at her. "YOU CAN FIGHT THIS! HOLD ON!" She bucked and flung herself around for another moment, not hearing him. "COME ON! FIGHT!" he commanded. She suddenly went limp, gasping and panting again. Dean took advantage of her suddenly weak limbs, and pressed her hand to his heart. "Feel my heartbeat?" he whispered frantically. "That's for you, kid. Only for you. Hold on. You need to hold on. I need you to hold on."

He willed her to show some signs of fighting. She couldn't speak- but she gripped his flannel shirt, just like she used to when she was a baby. After another moment of gasping, Dean became aware that she was trying to say something. He pulled her in closer to hear.

"I….know…." she breathed.

Dean put his hand on the back on her head, pulling her in to his chest. He glared up at the goddess triumphantly. Seshat's eyes were a furious, bloodshot red. She looked like she was about to explode. With a menacing sweep of her arms, the white walls disappeared, and the room became as before. The thousands of masks glared down at the Winchesters. All the eyes glowed ominously.

"This is MY story," Seshat hissed, her voice ringing with victory. Dean looked up to see the goddess standing right next to him in the middle of the room. "I decide how this story ends!"

Dean redoubled his grip on his daughter, knowing in his heart of hearts that neither one of them would make it through the blast of the thousand vengeful spirits that were coming at them. But just as Seshat moved her hands, she suddenly gave a small squeak. She looked down. The other half of a ram's horn was protruding from her chest. Her mouth suddenly ran red with blood, and her eyes lit up bright, electric blue.

Sam Winchester pushed the horn in deeper, his arm around the goddess' shoulders as he pulled her to him to deliver the final deathblow. "Plot twist," he muttered in her ear before she dropped to the ground.

As she fell with a sickening thud, all the eyes of all the masks glowed at once. Sam spun around, ready to defend his brother and niece from the onslaught. But this time, the lights seemed…gentle. They slowly poured out from the eyeholes and began to float away and evaporate. Sam and Dean both looked down just in time to see a multitude of lights spill out of Natalie's eyes and float upwards. Once the last one left, she suddenly took a deep, cleansing breath, then went limp with relief. Dean hung on to her as hard as he could.

One wisp floated down and stopped right in front of Sam. He stared at it for a moment as it gently pulsed before his eyes, giving off a friendly, warm glow.

"Thank you," he heard it whisper, before it too shot heavenward and disappeared.

*SPN SPN SPN*

"Man, oh man, are we lucky you figured that one out, Uncle Sam."

They had disposed of Seshat and hightailed it away from that house as fast as they could, finally stopping when they were a solid hour outside of Denver. Taking advantage of the stretch of road that no one seemed to be on at this hour, Dean had pulled the car over so they could take a breather. Cracking open their green cooler, they were sitting on Baby's hood, Natalie in between the boys, all of them drinking beer and looking at the stars.

Sam blushed and smiled at Natalie's praise. "Can't believe it took me that long," he said in his self-deprecating tone. "I mean, the palm trees, the cheetah print, the fact that she was an author-"

"We already said you did good, quit fishin' for compliments," Dean joked. Sam snickered and took another swig. There was a comfortable silence, each Winchester lost in their own thoughts. Finally, Sam clapped Natalie on the knee compassionately.

"You okay, Bug?" he asked, giving her knee a gentle squeeze. She paused from taking another sip and smiled at him.

"Yeah, I'm good. But damn. I guess I never realized how powerful words could really be," she said, her voice getting smaller at the end. Sam slid off the hood and stood right in front of her. He put his right hand on her left cheek and pulled her close so she was looking right in his eyes.

"I'm so proud of you," he whispered. "I know what it's like to fight those thoughts. And you did it. You did so good. I couldn't be more proud of you." Fighting back the grateful tears that stood in her eyes, Natalie put her left hand on top of his, cradling his hand on her face.

"Thank you," was all she could get out, but it was enough. Sam gently patted her cheek, and walked back towards the trunk, polishing off his beer as he went for another. With a grateful sigh, Natalie leaned her head over on Dean's shoulder. Dean leaned his cheek against the top of her head, grateful that she was still here for him to do so. Knowing that her father's tolerance for chick flick moments was low, Natalie decided to break the tension.

"So," she said, not lifting her head yet. "We never speak of this again?" she joked, using the line that they'd been using all weekend.

Dean snorted in appreciation of the humor, but rolled the beer bottle in his fingers, thinking. "Maybe not," he said quietly. His serious tone made Natalie sit up and look at him. Still staring at the stars, he continued. "Maybe…maybe we should talk about what happened." Swallowing hard, he gripped his bottle tightly, unable to look at her. "You don't really think those things you thought I said, do you?" he asked, his voice tight, staring at the night sky desperately.

A slight gasp from her was enough to get him to turn his head, though. When he looked at her, she was smiling. "Not at all," she said in a reassuring tone. "That's why it took me so much by surprise." It was her turn to look away. She stared at the perspiring bottle in her hands. "I'm sorry that I couldn't tell the difference between the lies and what you actually were saying," she said in a gruff tone that Dean knew meant she was pissed at herself.

"Kid," Dean said in a strong, kind tone. "You were battling vengeful spirits in your freaking skull. The fact that you DID fight back…and WON…is pretty damn impressive. So none of this 'guilt' crap, got it?"

"Yes, sir," she said, looking up at him. He held his bottle up and she clinked hers against it. They both took another pull before continuing their discussion. They both knew without saying that if words needed to come up between them, no matter what they were, good or bad, that would no longer be an issue. They could talk to each other- about anything- and it would be okay. That silent realization drew them closer to each other as the stars continued to furiously twinkle and shine on them.

"Well, sorry to say that I doubt there will be any more 'Master of Non-Mystery' books," Dean said jovially, setting the atmosphere back to a light and airy one. "Think we kinda put the kibosh on that."

Natalie giggled. "Good thing too. Faline was a bitch."

"Well, I always told you, never meet your heroes."

"It's a damn good thing I didn't listen to that. I never would have met you." Before he could say anything, Natalie bumped his shoulder playfully before sliding off the hood and going to the trunk to dispose of her empty beer bottle. Dean couldn't quite keep the grin off his face as he polished off his own, getting down to join his family and go home.