Hello darling SPN Family! I hope you're all staying healthy and safe!

Sorry it's been so long, my laptop freaked out and it's now working again, so huzzah. You all have still been liking and following and leaving me reviews, and I can't tell you how much I appreciate it. I got a guest review asking for an angsty story, so here you go. Also- quarantine did WEIRD things to my brain y'all, so expect some weird shit soon :)

Special thanks to Jenmm31, the best Sammy in the world. Check out her stories if you want some additional kick-ass material to read.

A/N- in this story, Natalie is 15. Please see profile page for disclaimer.

"I'm telling you, you're wrong!"

Never the words that Dean Winchester was willing to hear.

He and Natalie had been going at it for about twenty minutes at this point, their loud, angry words echoing throughout the bunker as the two of them verbally duked it out in the war room. Sam had all but given up on trying to interject some sense into the argument and was settling for making sure it didn't turn into a blood bath.

Usually, Dean held marshal law in the family. What he said was final. Sam had learned from an early age that trying to talk Dean out of something he had decided on was a very, very bad idea. However, his just-as-stubborn-as-her-father niece hadn't quite accepted that lesson yet. Oh, she had been given the opportunity to accept it many times before. But for some reason, it had yet to stick.

As far as Natalie was concerned, the details were plain as the nose on his face. For the umpteenth time, she yelled. "It's a CHANGELING!"

Dean glared at her from his dominating height. "Natalie, we're done. Stop arguing."

"So you're just gonna waltz into this thing's den with nothing more than a knife to stab it in the heart, just because you don't wanna admit that I'm right?!" she answered back, standing as straight as her small stature would allow to stop feeling like the tiny child in this scenario.

"Watch your tone," Dean snarled at her. "Of course I'm not gonna do that. You know that. But neither am I going in there with a damn flamethrower strapped to my back, because it's a KITSUNE. Stab it in the heart, bam, it's dead. End of discussion."

"So you're just gonna ignore the evidence on the body?"

"No, I looked at it all. That's why I know it's a kitsune, and for the record, you're starting to piss me off."

"What about all the marks on the victim near his neck?"

"Oh, you mean the ones that were caused by the claws of the monster trying to get to the pituitary gland?"

"They were on the back of the neck! Near the spine, where there are pivot joints and SYNOVIAL fluid!"

"And then the victim's face was ripped off and part of his brain removed. Including the PITUITARY GLAND. That's all the justification that I need that it's a kitsune who just doesn't know what the hell it's doing."

"Dad, they're instinctually born with the knowledge! It's not a matter of them knowing what to do- they freaking know!"

"So you wanna explain to me why the face and the brain was missing? Cause that sure as hell ain't how a changeling plays."

"I told you, it could be a calling card of some nutcase, or some sadistic way of playing with their food…"

"Yeah, and to the point that you were just shouting at me like three seconds ago, changelings don't act that way because it's not in their nature. It's not instinctual for them to do that. And you need to stop watching those serial killer documentaries with your uncle. A 'calling card'? Really?"

"That doesn't mean that's not what it is!"

"And that don't mean that a kitsune won't wrap its damn claws around the necks of its victims, leaving the exact marks that you're trying to convince me are a changeling's. Give it up now, kid."

Natalie threw up her hands in sheer frustration. "So you're not even gonna entertain the idea that I'm right?!"

At that, Dean took a couple steps in towards her, pointing his finger furiously at her face. "I'm gonna stop wasting time arguing with you about this and go save some damn lives! How about that?" Before she could answer, he turned on his heel and starting stomping towards his room. Over his shoulder, he barked his orders at the two of them. "Wheels up in ten. And I don't wanna hear anything more about this."

Natalie just stared at him, speechless. Sam inhaled slowly, ready to calm her down with the speech he'd mentally been preparing for the last five minutes. He knew exactly how this was going to play out- how this always played out when it came to arguing with Dean- and had been ready with his wise and sage words to soothe her furious soul. However, he took too long while inhaling. And it popped out of her mouth before anyone could do anything else.

"Bastard," Natalie hissed under her breath.

It was as if the world had come to a halt. Dean froze in his tracks, Sam's jaw hit the floor, and even Natalie was still as ice in her anger. She hadn't meant to say that out loud. It had taken her by surprise- like it just fell out of her face without her being able to do anything about it. The still-logical part of her brain had obviously fainted in shock, and so was clearly no help at the moment. Shit. What a time for her brain to mouth filter to fail as well.

Dean turned slowly on his heel, his eyes blazing fire. Natalie returned his gaze stoically, still too angry to fully comprehend the tornado she'd just stepped into. When he saw her standing there, still completely defiant and ready to fight, his own logical brain took the backseat. Fury was driving him in this moment.

"Get your ass over here. Right now," he hissed at her, pointing at his feet.

It was like being called a child and a puppy all at once. Natalie's own fury rose even higher. "I'm not gonna-" she spat at him, fully intending to say that she wasn't about to be treated like a canine being told to heel, but that was as far as she got.

"NOW!" he roared at her, making both her and Sam jump. Sam closed his eyes resignedly. He knew that tone. There was no going back from that tone. So much for this not turning into a blood bath.

Natalie crossed her arms tightly across her chest and walked over to her father as if she didn't have a care in the world. The truth was, she instantly regretted saying what she had said. It always happened like this. Every time she got angry, she got stupid. Like seriously stupid. Dean had warned her a million times that her anger needed to be honed and used to fuel her passion for hunting, but the fact remained that she was a fifteen year old girl who was navigating her way through teenagerhood in a bizarrely unusual lifestyle. She hadn't figured out the nuances of the balance just yet. Her brain was no help. She knew beyond a shadow of a doubt what right and wrong was. She could even see both sides of the issue- all the shades of grey, as it were, which helped her to solidify her rationale. But it was like her physical side and her logical sides were constantly at war these days. Her brain was often shocked at her limbic system's choices, making it harder and harder to get a grip on things like her brain-to-mouth filter. It was infuriating.

As she made her way towards her fuming father, she bit the tip of her tongue inside her mouth as a way to remind herself to KEEP SHUT right now. She was in a world of trouble already, and if she couldn't keep her trap closed, she was likely to get herself shipped to North Dakota and locked in Bobby's panic room for the next month. She'd been threatened with that for years, and she wouldn't put it past Dean to actually follow through on it in this moment.

She stopped about arm's length away from him, her arms still iron vices over her chest. Keeping her tongue firmly clenched in her teeth, she looked him in the eye, knowing it was better to lance the boil and get it over with than try to waste time by staring at the floor. She locked her muscles into place, willing them to stay still and give her that impassive look most teenagers were renowned for.

Dean waited until she had stopped moving, letting the metaphorical steam blast from his ears and nose while she did as she was told. He was DONE. He had had enough, and it was time to set this little girl straight. He closed the distance between them in one step, deliberately curling his hands into fists so he didn't pull a Homer Simpson and start strangling her right then and there.

"You listen and you listen good," he snarled at her, drawing himself up to his full height. For once, he was actually glad that she took after her mother and was only five one- gave him the advantage of appearing like a freaking mountain in times like this. "You know damn well that what I say goes around here. And you know better than to shoot off your mouth and be that disrespectful to me. And hell, I've lost track of how many times we've gone around about you learning to control your anger, so just add this tally mark to your score, 'cause it's freaking obvious that once AGAIN you didn't learn anything from the last time. So by the time Sam and I get back, I'll be waiting for your apology."

Normally, the remark about the apology would have set her off on a completely different track, but what stuck in the teen's mind was the part right before that.

"Wait- what do you mean 'by the time you and Sam get back'?" she asked, thrown for a loop.

Dean shrugged, maddeningly apathetic. "What part didn't come out in English?"

"You are benching me because I'm arguing with you about what monster it is?!"

"No, I'm benching you because your hot head got you into hot water again. I'm benching you because you're still convinced that you're universally right, and I know you too well to know that that shit will come to a head in the worst moment of a hunt, and you'll get yourself killed trying to prove that you're right."

That one stung. Natalie dropped her arms, her eyes betraying her and showing their hurt. "You really think that I would be so careless on a hunt, just trying to prove I'm right, that I would intentionally sabotage it?"

The pain in her voice made Dean's heart instantly want to backpedal, but his own stubbornness refused to yield the driver's seat. "I didn't say that," he answered gruffly. "I think that you could easily put yourself in a compromised position because you're not using your anger to drive you towards your goal. Your REAL goal, not your winning-the-argument goal. And I'm not taking that chance. So you're gonna stay here, and by the time we get back, I want a DETAILED research paper on kitsunes. EVERY detail on them, you got me? And then, you can apologize." Without waiting for an answer, Dean spun on his heel again, heading for his room. "Sam!" he barked halfway down the hallway. "Let's roll!"

Natalie just stood there, her mouth still hanging open with the retort she'd never get to use.

*SPN SPN SPN*

About five minutes later, Sam gently rapped on her door, his newly packed duffle slung over his shoulder. "Bug?" he called out softly.

"Come in," came the muffled answer. Sam tentatively opened the door, peeking around the edge cautiously. Natalie was sitting at her desk up against the sidewall, her profile curved forward as she stared at her glowing laptop. Her head was resting on her fist in an attempt to look like she was casually reading. Sam didn't miss the white knuckles in her fist. Neither did he try to bullshit her about why he came.

"You made some good points back there," he said. Natalie snorted a laugh.

"Didn't seem to make a difference, but thanks," she answered back bitterly. She instantly closed her eyes, feeling like shit. There was no reason to take this out on Sam. "Sorry," she mumbled, still not making eye contact with him, pretending to be absorbed in the glowing screen.

"You're okay," Sam chuckled back amiably. "I'd be pissed too." At that, Natalie leaned back in her chair, sighing loudly.

"I mean, it's right there!" she said, finally turning to Sam and spreading her hands wide. "The evidence is in plain freaking sight! Why is he refusing to see it?"

"Why are YOU?" Sam asked frankly. "You know he's got a good point, too."

Natalie rolled her eyes and folded her arms again. "So why did you say that you'd be pissed a second ago? You obviously would have taken both points and rolled with it, even if you knew in your heart of hearts that you were right."

"Because I used to get pissed when my dad shut me down like that. He and Dean are a lot alike in that way. Neither of them particularly likes being challenged, especially when lives are at stake."

"That's what is making me so mad about this. All the lives that are at stake."

"Yeah, your dad is concerned about that. But it's you he's most worried about."

"Oh, yeah. Sure."

"You don't think he is?"

"I think that he still doesn't trust me."

"You really don't listen to him when you're mad, do you?" Sam chided. At that, he watched his niece focus on a point on the wall and cross her arms even tighter than she had in the war room. He knew he only had seconds before she mentally walled him off, so he went for it.

"Bug, he knows that you have a tendency to make uninformed choices when you're angry. Remember the werewolves' den back in Kansas City?" The slight slump of her shoulders let Sam know that he had struck home and that she was still listening. "You were mad, you didn't follow protocol OR the plan, and you nearly got yourself bitten."

"That was like, four months ago."

"And what did you just prove today? That when you're mad, you don't think clearly. Calling him a name like that? You haven't pulled that one since you were four years old and mad at ME."

With an aggravated sign, Natalie focused on him again. "Fine. You're right. I still have problems channeling my anger, especially when I'm being ignored by everyone like I'm a no-nothing child."

Sam held up his hands defensively. "Hey, did I say you were wrong?" He waited patiently for her response. Her eyes darted away as she thought through the argument that had just happened in the war room.

"No, you didn't," she said, the rage draining out of her voice.

"No, I did not," he echoed. "I think you made a really good point. Yes, it fits more of a profile of a kitsune than a changeling, but we can't rule a changeling out. The pathology report also said there were puncture wounds on the neck, which could easily be a bite. OR it could be claw wounds. Until we get there, we just don't know."

"So why does he stick his head in the sand and always go Alpha Gorilla until everyone agrees with him?"

"Again- why do YOU?" Sam arched his eyebrow, looking at her in a kind way, willing her to read between the lines of what he was saying. Which she did. Begrudgingly.

"Yeah, yeah, alright. Point taken," she mumbled. She knew that he was expecting her to understand Dean's feelings, because she was feeling literally the exact same way.

She looked up at him with a defeated sigh. "Please tell me that you're at least gonna-" Before she could even finish the sentence, Sam extracted a flare gun from his jacket pocket and held it up for her to see. She sighed and gave a faint grin. At least someone was going into this hunt prepared.

*SPN SPN SPN*

She waited for the perfect moment.

Okay, she waited a sufficient amount of time before thinking about it.

No, she waited for as long as she could stand it, which was about two hours, then threw her things in a duffle, made sure she was set with plenty of flairs AND knives (not that Dean was right, but it never hurt to be prepared), and snatched a screwdriver and a wire stripper. She headed to the bunker's garage.

*SPN SPN SPN*

Just outside the abandoned slaughterhouse, Sam and Dean silently made their way to the closest entrance. They had tracked the creature to this location. Dean had to hand it to the monster- taking its victims to a place that was already covered in blood. No one would even notice all the evidence unless they were REALLY looking for it. This damn kitsune was clever.

They had their game plan in place, and were just waiting for the chance to jump it. Another woman went missing that morning, and they knew that if they didn't get the monster tonight, then another death was all but imminent.

Splitting up, Dean crept to the north side of the building, towards the main entrance. He was going to come in that way, more visible, while Sam snuck through the back, so they could attack from both angles. Sam was also going to try to locate the victim first, release and hide her until the danger was passed.

Dean kept his eyes peeled for any signs of movement from the monster. Taking refuge behind a stack of crates, Dean held his gun at the ready and waited. The smell of this place was indescribably disgusting, and he had smelled some pretty gnarly things in his time. He tried to keep his stomach from turning inside out.

Suddenly, a side door slid open with a steely screech. Dean's heart raced- here we go. The creature was smaller than he'd expected, and definitely female. Shouldn't be too hard to overpower her and drive a knife into her heart. He waited until she had crossed to the north wall of the large room, presumably heading into the section where she was keeping her victim. It also happened to be right by where Dean was hiding. Once he was sure that she was focused elsewhere, he silently slipped up behind her. Thrusting forward, gripping her immediately into a powerful choke hold, Dean pressed her back against his chest, and used his left hand to drive the knife into her heart as deep as it could go. The creature shuddered in surprise, once. He held her tight, twisting the knife again. Dean was all but congratulating himself on the kill, when it suddenly dawned on him.

She was still moving.

In the split second he came to this realization, she dropped low and used her powerful legs to burst upward, breaking his hold on her and throwing his hands wide. Before he could block it, the creature spun around and delivered a ironclad kick to his stomach. He went flying backwards, landing with a solid thud onto the sticky concrete floor, winding him completely. As he desperately tried to make his lungs work again, he managed to raise himself to a sitting position. He saw the creature grin at him sadistically, and oh so slowly pull the knife out of her own chest. She flipped it around expertly in her hand. Then she slowly sauntered over to him.

He still could barely even catch his breath, let alone stand. Before he knew it, she was straddling him, sitting her full weight on his chest, making it even more difficult for him to breath. She took the blade of the knife, still dripping with her own blood, and held it up. It shined a gruesome red in the moonlight.

"Well, well, well. This just went from dinner time to a freaking banquet, didn't it?" she said in a rusty, whispering voice. She used her knees to pin Dean's arms to the ground. "Big boy like you, so many places to drain. Geez, I could be playing with you all night." She took the tip of the knife, and placed it right over Dean's right shoulder joint. She looked deliberately at the slash in her chest, then let her eyes slide right back to his. "I should return the favor, don't you think?" She slowly pressed the point of the knife into his shoulder. Dean gritted his teeth and turned his face away, but no matter how hard he tried to hide it, it was obvious it hurt. The monster laughed. "Well, remember the Golden Rule next time," she croaked out. "Do unto others, blah blah blah." She pulled the knife, none too gently, from the wound, and reared back triumphantly, ready to feed.

Dean's lungs had finally started cooperating. If he could just get enough power to get her off his arms, he could throw her off. He had no idea how to do that, but he had to try. Just as he was gathering his strength, there was an almighty bang followed by a curious rushing sound. It echoed around the slaughterhouse. But that wasn't what caught his attention. The monster's eyes suddenly got wide as dinner plates, and she screamed in pain.

Dean used her distraction to throw her to the side, rolling as he did so. She was on the ground, writhing in agony as the flames consumed her. He scrambled to his feet as her screams died. Fire was taking this thing out? When his knife hadn't? What the hell? And what was that about draining him? His brain finally clicked into place. The kid was right. It had been a changeling. He whipped around to see if Sam was okay. But it wasn't Sam standing there, holding the flare gun.

"Are you okay?" was all he heard Natalie say, before she was suddenly not where she'd been standing two seconds ago. A blur, faster than almost anything he'd seen, charged her and knocked her sideways. He saw her hit a steel table and slump to the ground, completely unconscious. Without a second thought, he was sprinting to her.

Just as he was about to reach her, a movement out of the corner of his eye made him whip around reflexively, and just in time. This new creature missed him by mere inches, and stopped about eight feet in front of him. A snarl on its face, Dean watched as its fingers suddenly transformed into long, black claws. Shit- THIS was the kitsune. And his knife was still laying on the ground where the changeling had nearly taken him out.

He darted over to Natalie, still crumpled on the ground. He wouldn't, he couldn't let himself agonize over her small, unconscious form, not just yet. He sent up a prayer to Cas that she was alright. He reached into the side of her boot. Sure enough, she had two bulls eyes tucked in there. "That's my girl," he muttered low under his breath, as the kitsune charged him. He extracted the knives and waited for his shot.

Right as she got into range of him, her long razor sharp claws reaching for his face, he suddenly turned and slashed a deep gash into her arm. Howling in pain, the creature whipped around in a furied frenzy. Dean struck faster than she was expecting, driving Natalie's knife into her heart. He watched as the light drained from her eyes and he dropped the second monster to the floor.

Without missing a beat, he sprinted back to his baby girl.

*SPN SPN SPN*

The first thing Natalie registered was the comforting growl of a familiar engine. The next thing she registered was the pain. Everywhere, but mostly in her head. She shifted uncomfortably, peeling her cheek away from the leather seat where it had obviously been pressed for a while, by any indication of how it stuck. She groaned and opened her eyes, rubbing the fingers of her right hand into her eyes, trying to clear them.

"Here," came a low voice from the driver's side. Natalie found a water bottle being held out to her. She twisted it open and drank thirstily. Once she finally got rid of the dry patch in her throat, she turned to look at her father. He rolled down his window, gave a thumbs up outside of it. Natalie saw the reflection of flashing headlights behind them. She looked around at the unfamiliar back road.

"Where are we?" she asked cautiously, knowing that being knocked out wasn't gonna keep Dean from kicking her ass eventually for what she'd just pulled.

"Half an hour outside of the slaughterhouse," he answered back. Natalie noted that his tone didn't SOUND like he was immediately going to kill her. "Good to see your eyes, kid."

She rubbed the back of her skull where she had hit the table. "What the hell was it?" she asked, wincing.

"A kitsune," he replied. Her hands dropped into her lap, as did her jaw.

"You're not serious."

"As a heart attack."

"But the thing I took out was a changeling."

"I know. Apparently, they were working together."

"A kitsune and a changeling?!"

"You gotta admit, it's clever. A kitsune only needs the pituitary gland to keep it going. Then a changeling comes in and sucks all the synovial fluid out of the rest of the victim." Dean shook his head, still not believing the whole situation. "Waste not, want not. Insane, right? Two freaking monsters, working together."

"Where's Uncle Sam?"

"Behind us. Driving the car you hotwired to get there."

Natalie felt the blood rush into her cheeks. He still didn't seem all that pissed, but she was also trapped in the Impala with him where no one could hear her scream. That probably made it a hell of a lot easier on him; it was undoubtedly what was keeping his blood pressure down.

"You did a damn good job on it," Dean complimented on her hotwiring job, unaware that she was waiting for the axe to fall. "'Course, your uncle wasn't too thrilled to learn that I had taught you that in our practical lessons when you were twelve. But you popping up out of nowhere meant he was able to get the girl those monsters kidnapped safe and away, so he don't really have a leg to stand on."

"So you hotwired it again?" she asked, slowly looking over her shoulder and seeing the car behind them. "Wasn't sure if it was gonna have enough battery to do it a second time."

"It did. We weren't gonna leave it there- that's a vintage '64 Mustang. And what was going to be your plan if it didn't have enough juice to get going again?"

"I…didn't think that far in advance."

"Mm-hm."

"To be honest, I'm surprised I'm in the front seat of this car."

"Where did you expect to be?"

"The trunk."

"If you had been conscious, it woulda been a possibility."

"So why am I here now?"

"Figured that when you woke up, you'd want one last look at the world, 'cause you ain't gonna see the light of day for the next two weeks."

"Two weeks?"

"You gotta problem with that?"

"No sir. I just…I thought it'd be more."

"If you hadn't saved my life, it would have been two years."

"Fair."

They drove in silence for a while, Natalie taking small sips out of her water bottle. It wasn't exactly a comfortable silence, but neither of them knew the next thing to say. Finally, after the growing tension of ten silent minutes, Natalie couldn't take it anymore.

"Dad, I'm sorry," she blurted out. "Okay? You wanted an apology, and to be honest, you deserve one. I…I was rude and disrespectful, and I swear I didn't mean to call you a bastard- it just slipped out because…" she trailed off.

"Because you were mad," Dean finished her sentence impassively. "Well, apology accepted. Maybe that knock on the head will finally knock some sense into you."

Natalie slumped down on her seat a bit. But before she could start thinking about how unfair his statement was, he continued. "Almost wish it had happened to me."

"What do you mean?"

"What do I mean. I mean I wish I had had some sense knocked into me too. I mean …I mean I'm sorry too, okay? I'm sorry, kid. I just…I'm sorry." Dean opened his mouth to say more, but he just couldn't get the words to come out, so he closed with a grimace.

Natalie stared at him a moment longer. Once he turned towards her and realized that she was still looking at him completely stunned, he was about to make some smart ass remark about taking a picture that would last longer, but she quickly turned to the front, acting as if she hadn't just been caught staring at him.

"Did you not expect me to apologize?" Dean asked her, a bit harsher than he had intended to.

"It's not that! I mean…thank you, and apology accepted, I guess."

"You guess?"

"I…don't think you owe me one. An apology, I mean. I just…I mean…I screwed up here first. I didn't wanna see the signs of a kitsune because I just wanted so badly to be right, that it would somehow…I don't know. Make you know that I'm taking this seriously and could identify a monster from a distance."

Dean gave her a quick, incredulous side eye. "Have you seriously forgotten how many cases you've called up till now?" he asked. "That time in Boston? The zin in Phoenix? That…whatever that weird thing was in Austin?"

"The Lamia."

"Yeah, that. Suddenly…what, those don't count?" Natalie picked at her thumbnail. "Exactly," he said, taking her silence as an answer. "I flipped out when you said changeling, because…well, you know." Natalie gave a small nod as her eyes roamed the road stretching out before them. Every time a changeling case had come up since she was born, Dean had made sure that she was as far away and as safe as possible, seeing as they preyed on children. It had been one of her first indicators as to how dangerous their jobs really were when she was younger. And a massive wake up call to all of them. "And I didn't want to believe it was a changeling, because I knew I needed you in the field, so I just…shut you down. And you didn't deserve that." Dean seemed to release a bit of tension as his explanation tumbled out. At least, he wasn't gripping the steering wheel so tightly any more. After a comfortable silence, he finally joked. "So. Looks like we both lost this round, eh?"

"Or we both won," Natalie said, shrugging. She grinned at Dean, who chuckled and grinned back. He held his hand out to her.

"Draw?" he asked.

"Draw," she agreed, taking his hand and shaking it. She leaned back, sipping her water for a second before digging in her backpack for aspirin. After downing a couple, she looked over at her father again. "Can I sleep?" she asked comfortably. "I'm guessing you checked me for a concussion, right?"

Dean nodded. "Course I did. Yeah, squirt, you can sleep. We'll be home in a couple hours."

In response, she scooted over to him, nestling her head against his shoulder. Dean looked down on her- his stubborn, pig headed little brat that he loved more than his own life. He felt the smile slowly spread across his face as he sped on through the night.