Good Morning SPN Family! We made it through!

Here's chapter 100. I honestly never thought I'd get this far. And still have somewhere to go. But thanks to you, the lovely and amazing SPN Family, I'm still going. And not just in writing. Both Natalie and I aren't done yet.

I wrote this story the weekend after they announced that season 15 would be it. I sat on this story because of all the emotions that I was feeling as I wrote. This is intertwined with some real life drama with my nephew, and between that and the announcement I wrote this out of sheer desperation to get the overwhelming feelings out of my head so I could deal with them. So to show that it's okay to feel things, and deal with them how we need to and in the way we need to, I'm going to choose to show my emotional side on this one and publish it as my 100th. In honor of season 15, in honor of the SPN Family, and in honor of those of you who are fighting each and every day with the monsters in your heads and are STILL fighting. I'm so proud of you. You can do it. Always Keep Fighting. You are worth it.

And for those of you who think this is too chick-flick moment-y...I'll throw some funny shit at you for 101. Deal? :)

I love you SPN Family. We don't end in blood, and we don't end at 15. Special thanks to Sammy. I'm proud of you. I'm proud of us.

A/N- in this story, Natalie is 8 months old. Please see profile page for disclaimers.

Dean mentally calculated as he continued to pace. This must be the seventeenth lap by now…yes…because on the twelfth lap he wasn't watching where he was going and ran his shin into the coffee table, and it had been at least five laps since then…yeah…had to be the seventeenth.

He sighed inwardly, turning his attention back to the child in his arms. His eight-month-old daughter was still squirming in discomfort, despite his best efforts for the past hour. She had been teething for a month or two now. She was four teeth in, and it was obvious another one, maybe even two, were about to make an appearance. He could see them nearly ready to break through when he examined her gums. She had tolerated the first tooth pretty well, but since the second one appeared, they were causing the usually happy baby to get very angsty and upset from the pain.

It was weird though- it was like she was trying to stay happy despite the obvious pain she was in. That seemed a little advanced for a baby, Dean kept thinking to himself. He hadn't even said it to Sam, fearful that it would make Sam freak out and wonder if something was wrong with her. Maybe this was just part of her personality- or maybe other babies were like this, too. Dean had never been around babies all that much, so what did he know. He knew he didn't need Sam adding to his worries about his daughter, which seemed to grow more and more numerous by the day.

He had watched for the past two months as Natalie's face would screw up with pain as her teeth grew in and pushed their way out of her tiny pink gums. She would whine, toss, turn, fidget, cry, but then she would giggle and squeal with joy whenever Dean picked her up to comfort her. They'd be playing, fine and dandy, her absolutely delighted with no traces of the previous fussing, when she would suddenly start whining again. Dean couldn't seem to get a handle on it.

Despite the emotional wear and tear it was taking on him, it had been absolutely fascinating to him to watch her. She was tearing around their motel rooms like hell on wheels these days- scooting on her hands and knees as fast as she could go, delighted that she could crawl and move herself now. But that wasn't enough for the pint-sized Winchester- oh no. She would flop and scoot herself over to the nearest piece of furniture, and then use her kung-fu grip and apparently Hulk-like upper body strength to stand herself up. The first time she had done that, both boys' jaws hit the floor, thinking that she was about to start walking. Apparently, she thought so too. She twisted herself away from the sofa she'd used to haul herself up, forgot that she didn't know how to walk yet, and immediately face planted into the carpet.

As Dean paced now, he exhaled with a whoosh, remembering that terror of her falling so hard that first time. He remembered picking her up- he didn't exactly remember running to get her, he had just realized he was right there- as she wailed and screamed. He was sure she'd broken her nose or had some terrible bruise blossoming on her tiny forehead. But the second she was in his arms, she stopped crying, put her finger in her mouth, and giggled sweetly, right as rain. He had a very large whiskey after that.

And that was the pattern that emerged. She would fall, cry for a moment, then it was like it never happened. She was back to her happy-go-lucky self. Dean was grateful that she could revert to being happy so quickly- every time she cried, it was like a piece of his heart shattered. Even if it was something arbitrary that he couldn't control, or if she just suddenly started wailing. Didn't matter. It hurt. It hurt like hell. He didn't like it when things hurt.

He had promised her that he would watch out for her and take care of her. It was so much…MORE…than he realized. How much energy it took to always make sure she didn't face plant again when she was constantly on the move, or how draining it could be when she was crying and he didn't know why. He thought of his dad often in times like this. In the days right after his wife's death, John was taking care of a four year old and an infant, all while dealing with his unimaginable grief and sorrow…Dean was once again bowled over by the man he called his hero.

Dean didn't know how John had done it on his own. Dean knew he himself couldn't do it without Sam. Every day, he was insanely grateful for his little brother. Sam hadn't hesitated one bit to jump right into the fray with him. He had changed diapers, gotten up in the middle of the night, rocked and soothed almost as much as Dean had. Dean had no idea how single mothers did it all on their own. Freaking wonder women, for sure.

And the thing about Sam was- he never balked. He had been shocked when Dean told him about Natalie, sure, and they had initially gotten into it about what to do with the kid. But when he understood that Dean wasn't giving in, Sam had supported him every step of the way, even guiding him when he wasn't sure which way to go. Dean instinctively knew that there were certain things that Sam would have done differently had he been the father in this situation, but when Dean made the call about what to do with Natalie, Sam didn't argue unless he had a good reason to. And Dean knew that the reason was always Natalie's best interest. Who did that? Who could actually love someone else's child as their own, caring so much, enduring so much? He'd have to find a way to tell Sam 'thank you', if he could ever come up with something meaningful enough that wouldn't make him grow lady parts.

He suddenly looked down, realizing that he'd lost count in all his midnight musings. Was he on lap eighteen or nineteen? He'd been on seventeen a minute ago, but between his exhaustion and his mind wandering, he felt like he must have made two laps by now. Eh, what the hell. He was calling this nineteen.

He was once again smugly pleased with his foresight in insisting that Sam have a separate room tonight. He knew his brother was beyond exhausted. They'd just come off a werewolf hunt, meaning that they'd had several late nights. And with Natalie teething and already hating to sleep, rest was getting very hard to come by these days. Dean had rented Sam an additional room without telling him, knowing he would have put up a fight. And he did, when Dean told him. But Dean always won these fights. Sam was finally sleeping in his own quiet room, and Dean was pacing, trying to comfort his baby girl. He didn't care that he probably wasn't getting sleep tonight. He just wanted her to be okay.

Natalie squirmed again, her baby hand stretching out into the air as she whined in pain. Dean stole a quick look at the clock. In about half an hour, he could safely give her more baby ibuprofen. That always helped. It was this last half hour where it was just starting to wear off that totally sucked. He was too much of a nervous father to push the time limit on the meds, no matter how much it hurt to see her like this. He bounced her gently as he began the twentieth lap.

"It's okay, kiddo, I know it hurts," he murmured to her. Upon hearing his voice, she turned in his arms, her outstretched hand reaching for his mouth. He did what he always did- pretended to chew on her fingers, making silly noises. She giggled delightedly, then rubbed her fist into her red, tired eyes. She reached out again towards his mouth, laughing when once again Daddy obliged her with his funny ways. She latched onto his flannel shirt and pulled up, wanting to be upright. Dean withheld his sigh. If she was upright, she wouldn't go to sleep. But since she would need to take meds soon, maybe that wasn't a bad thing.

He gently shifted her so she could lay her head on his shoulder if she wanted to. He patted her gently on the back, trying to soothe her as she squirmed. She suddenly buried her face in his flannel and let out one heart-piercing cry, but then pushed herself right back up. She blinked twice at Dean as if she'd forgotten he was there. She then broke out a dazzling smile.

It never ceased to knock the wind out of him when she did that. He was a sucker for that smile. It was like seeing the sun for the first time. That smile reminded him of all the good things in life. He remembered feeling this way in the hospital room, when he held her for the first time and she smiled at him like she knew who he was. He felt the connection between the two of them then, and he felt it now.

And then she threw up all over him.

It was so unexpected- she was looking at him, and then suddenly she was heaving her little guts out. Dean's instincts immediately took over, making sure she was upright so she didn't choke on any of it. Once she finally stopped, she just blinked at him, surprised as all hell. Dean didn't want to pull her in close- he was covered in baby vomit. He didn't want it getting on her. Then he realized she had slimed her own arm and chest with sick. He took a cautious step away towards the beds to get her some clean clothing, worried that she was going to start throwing up again, and his foot hit something warm and wet. Crap. He looked down. Not only had she managed to throw up all over him and herself, it was all over the floor too.

Suppressing his gag reflex at the smell, Dean tried to step over the puddle by his feet to get back towards the bed. He had to get her out of the now-nasty pajamas she was in. He gently laid her down in the middle of the bed. He freaked out for a moment- what if she wasn't done throwing up, and she choked? He watched for a moment as she squirmed in displeasure. When it seemed everything was going to stay inside the baby, he tried again.

"It's okay, baby girl, it's okay," he muttered quickly in a low voice, trying to conceal the panic. "I'm gonna find you new clothes and get you all cleaned up, okay?" All she knew was that he had laid her down, and she didn't like that. She started crying, crying hard, and another piece of his heart shattered.

Gritting his teeth, he knew he had to clean her up in order to help her. He tried to focus on the task- not on the cries- as he dug through the duffle bag containing all of her clothes. He came up with another set of pajamas relatively quickly, but it still wasn't quick enough for the poor baby. She cried her heart out while he stripped her as fast as possible. He snatched the small container of baby wipes, and started wiping down her arms and torso. She wouldn't tolerate a bath right now, so this was the best he could do. She screamed and whined as he cleaned her up, just wanting to be held and not understanding why it wasn't happening.

Out of desperation, he started talking to her gently, trying to help her. "Hey, squirt, it's okay," he said in a soothing tone, his insides churning between the smell and the feeling of helplessness. "Daddy's right here- I gotcha. I know you don't like laying down, but this is just for a little bit, okay? Just for a little bit. Then we'll get you into some nice warm clothes. Maybe some whiskey for the both of us, am I right?"

For some reason, that caught the baby's attention. With a heaving breath, she stopped crying and focused back on Dean. Taking this as a good sign, he smiled at her, and his tone became silly. "Yeah? You like that idea? You're definitely Daddy's girl. I bet you'd like whiskey. Don't tell Uncle Sam, okay? He won't let me put whiskey on your gums, but what he don't know won't kill him, right?" He made a silly face at her, causing her to giggle. She put her fingers in her mouth again. Dean panicked for a minute, as he hadn't gotten to wash off her hands yet, but it really looked like she had only slimed her arm and her chest. Score. He took advantage of her temporary distraction to change her diaper, too. Might as well hit it all in one since she stopped screaming.

He started the arduous task of trying to wrestle a squirming, whiny baby into a brand new outfit. He was constantly amazed at the sheer amount of clothing this child could go through in a day. He had seen the inside of a Laundromat more in the last eight months than he felt he had in his entire life before this. Not to mention the fact that the kid turned into freaking Ronda Rousey every time he had to get clothing on her. She was damn strong for an eight month old.

Natalie started fussing again as her father tried to dress her quickly. Dean grimaced as he realized that this particular outfit was on the verge of being too small for her. She was growing, and he knew that should make him happy, but it was…bittersweet. Like he wanted her to get bigger and be able to talk so when she was unhappy, she could just TELL him what was bothering her instead of trying to guess, but at the same time, she was just so damn little and cute right now. As quick as he could, he finished the task, having to stop twice to untwist her leg from the tangle of clothing while she was flailing about as she cried. He snapped the romper closed, cursing at the seemingly thousands of snaps it took to close the damn thing. He got frustrated when he thought all the snaps were lined up, only to realize he'd been one off. As fast as he could, he fixed the problem, all while she fussed and squirmed louder and louder.

Finally, Dean was able to pick Natalie up. He desperately wanted to pull her into his chest, rocking her back and forth to help her calm down, but he was still covered in puke. Shifting her to the other side, the side that hadn't gotten slimed, he gently stroked her face as she calmed down. Satisfied to be up in Daddy's arms again, Natalie cooed happily. She grabbed a hold of his collar, her curious, tiny fingers feeling the flannel. She squealed delightedly.

Dean knew he had to get out of the vomit-soaked shirt, but was afraid that putting her down would cause her to get upset again. He almost rolled his eyes at himself. He- Dean Winchester- would run straight towards things that were always trying to kill him, no questions asked. But now he was scared of putting a baby down. Life was a bitch sometimes.

Knowing that he really had no other choice, he gently sat Natalie down in the middle of the bed. She squawked unhappily for a moment, realizing that she was no longer in his arms, but seemed resigned to the fact that she was sitting upright instead of being forced to lay down. She watched with interest as Dean quickly stripped off the slimy flannel and tee shirt he'd been wearing, and threw on another tee shirt. He would have just picked her up then and there, but for some reason, she always seemed calmer when he was wearing a flannel. Go figure. He shoved his arms through the nearest clean flannel as quickly as he could, before reaching for the baby again. He cuddled her into his chest, gently patting her in case there was any more gas or whatever it was that had made her heave in the first place.

Natalie seemed fine, however. She rubbed her cute little button nose into the flannel, giving an occasional squeal of delight. Once Dean was certain that she wasn't going to throw up again, he gently maneuvered her so she was laying down in his arms. He started the laps around the room all over again, stepping over the soaked, dirty carpet patch. She reached out, latching onto his flannel, trying to bring it to her mouth to suck on it. For a minute, she was okay. Her eyes even sleepily closed once, twice. But just as she was about to go under, she started writhing and twisting in pain again.

Dean felt like shit. This poor kid. Teething and vomiting all in one night. Geez, hadn't she been through enough? And there was nothing he could do to stop it. He glanced at the clock- oh thank God. It was time to give her more meds. He quickly moved to the table where the dropper full of baby ibuprofen was waiting. He stuck it in her mouth and pushed the plunger down. Natalie looked surprised, just like she did every time he did this. She swallowed the weird stuff, licking her lips and trying to figure out what it was all about. She finally gave up as another wave of pain hit her. She twisted in Dean's arms, giving a heartbreaking whimper.

Dean gently patted her, bouncing slightly as he continued his laps. "I know Baby Girl," he whispered in a voice that was tight with emotion. "I know. It's only for a little bit, okay? That gross stuff I just put down your throat is gonna help. Just give it a minute, Baby Girl. Just a minute, okay?" He ran a finger over her forehead and down her nose, then gently around her jaw. He was afraid of touching her chin or her lips, as that was close to the source of her pain. But his touch was soothing, and she started relaxing. Dean saw this and was encouraged. His heart swelled, and suddenly all the words just started pouring out of his mouth.

"Kid, can I tell you something?" he whispered. The baby tilted her head and looked at him as if she was listening. "I'm scared," he said. "I'm scared for so many things. I'm scared that something's going to happen to you. I'm scared that something's going to happen to me, and that I'll miss you growing up. I'm scared that something's going to happen to you BECAUSE of me. This life that I live- it ain't for the faint of heart. And there are going to be monsters and demons and all sorts of crap that's going to want to get their hands on you because of me. And that terrifies me. Terrifies the shit outta me."

"But I gotta tell you something else," he said in a determined voice, as a single tear slipped down his face. "I am gonna make damn sure I'm here for you. As long as I can. I don't know when my clock's gonna stop ticking. But I will make damn sure that you are always taken care of, so in a way, I will always be here for you. No matter what happens. No matter where I end up. You will always have me for your daddy. I promised you before, and I'm promising you now. You will never be alone."

Dean didn't know what prompted him to make this speech. He would never know. All he knew, was in that moment, he needed to tell that to Natalie. He needed her to know that he would always be there for her, even if it was just in her heart. He wasn't going anywhere.

He watched as his precious little girl tilted her head, looking deep into his eyes. She reached her small hand up to his face, and instead of putting her fingers on his lips like she usually did, she gently put it on his cheek. She patted once, twice, gently as if she was trying to soothe him. Dean felt his breath leave his lungs, and there was nothing else in the world but this beautiful baby girl in his arms. Natalie then brought her hand back in front of her, sleepily gripping the soft, comforting flannel. With a contented sigh, she snuggled into his chest, and drifted off to sleep.

That night, Dean couldn't put her down. He laid down on the other bed- the one not covered in baby clothing, and held her close. He watched her sleep for the longest time, marveling all over again at the responsibility that he now held. How big it was. And how proud and excited he was, despite the fear. His heart expanded, just staring at her. There was so much room that there hadn't been before. And soon, with this realization of all the new adventures in store for him, Dean slept in peace, his daughter cuddled close to his heart where she belonged.