This particular story ends when I say it ends. And we're Carrying On.
A/N- in this story, Natalie is 18.
Sam ran around the corner into the library, his phone in his hand. "What's the matter?" he asked Dean, his eyes scanning the place for danger. Dean was sitting at the table in front of his laptop in his favorite worn out grey robe.
"Nothing's the matter. Look at this," Dean said, pointing to his laptop. Much to his chagrin, Sam just stood there, a confused look on his face.
"Dude, you just text me 911," he said, holding his phone out to his brother.
"Yeah," Dean said, looking supremely unconcerned.
"Dean, why did you text that?!"
"Because I wanted you to come here."
"You could have just said 'come here'."
"And you would have taken your dear, sweet time. I wanted you here fast."
"Why didn't you just come to me?"
"Didn't want to get up."
"You didn't want to ge- dude, you don't text 911 unless it's an emergency!"
"Look, I wanted you here, you got here. End of discussion. Can we stop with the yap yap yapping so you can take a look at this?"
Sam rolled his eyes and pocketed his phone. He headed towards his brother with a loud, deliberate sigh. Refusing to acknowledge the bitchy moment, Dean leaned away from the laptop so Sam could see the article better.
"Check it out," Dean said. "Guy comes home from work to find his backdoor kicked in, his place trashed, and the robber still there, apparently. Robber offs the poor bastard in cold blood, makes a clean get away."
Sam raised his eyebrows, trying to figure out the supernatural behind Dean's thoughts. "Okay, and?" he asked.
"Turns out there's been a series of break ins in the area. Clean scenes though- no fingerprints, hair fibers, nothing. Used to only be an occasional thing- now it's happening like once a week. AND whoever is doing it is now starting to kill the homeowners."
"So- some serial burglar who developed a taste for death?"
"I dunno, maybe. I just don't like that it's getting more frequent, you know? Feels like a pattern. Like some monster is getting away with this shit and starting to get greedy."
"Cops have any leads?"
"Nada. Like I said, no DNA at all. They got nothing. Makes me even more suspicious."
"Here," Sam said, gesturing to the computer. "Let me have a go. Maybe I can hack into the street cameras." Dean nodded but didn't move. Sam waited for a moment, then cleared his throat. "You gonna move so I can try?"
"What?" Dean said, looking up in surprise. "Oh. Yeah, no. Go get your own laptop."
"Dude, just scoot over."
"I'm working here!"
"Ugh, fine." Sam stomped out of the library towards his room. "You suck, you know that?" he yelled over his shoulder.
"I also lick and bite. What's it to you?"
Five minutes later, Sam had set his laptop up across from his brother, and they were both looking for any additional evidence that might give them a lead. However, it was a good 45 minutes before Sam was really able to start finding the upswing in patterns Dean felt had been there. "You were right, it looks like they only had break ins every two or so years in this town," Sam said, looking into past articles. "So why are they picking up frequency now?"
"That's what's got me suspicious," muttered Dean, scouring the police cams. "And whoever it is, is good. Anyone that's been able to get away without kicking the bucket has given completely different info on what the perp looks like. First witness from three months ago described a dark haired short dude. Two months ago it was a blonde Thor-looking dude, and one week after that it was a red-headed chick."
"You think it's a gang? A team set on robbing as many houses as they can?"
"Maybe. But why are they now hitting houses weekly, AND killing?"
"Beats me. Hey- should we get Natalie on this? You know she loves digging into stuff like this."
"She was screwing around the garage earlier this morning. I think she's working on her car. Let's let her do her thing until we find something concrete."
"Okay, cool. Any weird marks left on the vics?"
"Nothing out of the ordinary. We might have to go check it out and give it the Winchester once-over." Dean looked up at Sam with a grimace. "Those morticians never seem to see any of the weird stuff. You ever notice that?"
Sam bobbed his eyebrows once and chuckled. "Ignorance is bliss, I guess," he muttered back in agreement. "You getting anything on the street cams?"
Dean shook his head. "Nothing. Hey-" he exclaimed suddenly, an idea popping into his head. "Any of those articles mention an address? For any of the victims?"
Sam scanned the several tabs he had opened, finally landing on one. "Uh, yeah. Try 13 Meadow Lane," he said, rattling off the zip code. Dean began typing.
"'Meadow Lane'," Dean snorted under his breath. "Dumb name." Sam didn't want to disturb Dean's train of thought, so he kept silent. He stretched his arms out- it'd been a long hour already. Finally, Dean leaned back from his computer in triumph.
"Yahtzee," he crowed loudly, looking at Sam with a grin.
"Whatcha got?"
"C'mere, check it out."
"You sure you don't wanna text me 911 first?"
"Shut up and get over here."
Sam stood up and walked over to Dean's laptop. He squinted at the fuzzy grey picture. "Did you hack into their doorbell cam?" he asked his brother. Dean just grinned in confirmation.
"Watch this," Dean murmured, hitting play. The image sprung to life. A middle-aged man with thick hair walked up to the front door with purpose. He slammed his padded elbow into the glass, causing shards to explode all around him. He didn't seem too bothered by it, but that wasn't what caught the boys' eyes. The man leaned towards the door to reach through and unlock it, and a light from the front hallway illuminated his eyes for a moment. They flashed silver. Sam and Dean looked at each other intensely.
"Shifter," Sam said definitively.
"Shifter," Dean agreed. He pushed back from the table. "How we doing on silver supplies?"
Sam nodded a bit, thinking. "Couldn't hurt to make another round. We're okay, but just on the border of. While I'm melting silver I can polish up the knives so we're not wasting additional time."
Dean nodded back, his brain whirling into action. "Alright. I'll grab the kid, tell her to get packed. I think I got enough clothes to get me through this trip."
"I thought you were going to do laundry the second we got home from the last case."
"I've been busy."
"Dean, it's been two weeks! Busy doing what?"
"Stuff."
"Oh, is that what you're calling that new bartender down at Growler's? 'Stuff'?"
"Dude, for the last time, I'm not sleeping with her, alright? She's Natalie's age. Creeps me out. Don't make me say it again."
"Ugh, fine. You run a load of laundry, I'll work on weapons, and whoever gets to Natalie first tells her to pack. Between the silver and the laundry, think we can leave tomorrow morning?"
Before Dean could respond, Natalie strode through the war room, her packed duffle slung across her back. She headed for the stairs to the garage. Dean wrinkled his brow in confusion- wasn't she up there already? But before he could ask, she spoke. "Shifter case in Indiana," she announced excitedly. "Baby's loaded up and ready to go. Clean laundry on both your beds. If you can pack your duffles, we can be wheels up in five minutes." The closing of the large wooden door echoed around the room as Sam and Dean stood there in stunned silence. Not only did she already know, she had done laundry, restocked the ammo, and practically packed for the entire trip. The awkward silence stretched on.
Sam broke it first. "Dude, how did you let her get so much smarter than us?" he groaned.
Dean shook his head. "I definitely didn't authorize it," he growled in his throat.
*SPN SPN SPN*
The next morning, Natalie shouldered her way into the motel room clutching the small cardboard tray and paper bag, trying not to spill any of the hot coffee. She carefully set it down on the Masonite table, unable to keep her smile to herself. "Ah, good, the Coffee Wench is here," Dean said, rubbing his hands together. "Did they have doughnuts too?" he asked excitedly.
"I got us breakfast sandwiches- extra bacon on yours," she answered instead. His face pinched into displeasure. She rolled her eyes but smiled, reaching into the bag. "AND a chocolate covered doughnut."
Dean reached for it greedily. "That's my girl," he sighed happily, before cramming half of it into his mouth. Natalie giggled.
"Will you at least try the sandwich too, so I can pretend that you're eating some protein?" she teased.
"You kidding me?" he said around his mouthful. "You think you're gonna bring me food and I'm NOT going to eventually eat it all? What's wrong with you?" Natalie laughed outright at that one, seeming unusually buoyant. Swallowing the last of the delicious chocolate treat, Dean tilted his head curiously at her and her mile-wide grin.
"You're awful chipper this morning," he commented casually. She gave a nonchalant shrug as she turned away, trying to hide her smile.
"New case, nice day, breakfast hero. What can I say? When you're this awesome, you can't help it," she said, bouncing over towards the couch to remove her shoes. Dean watched her with confused and narrowing eyes. Natalie had always been a morning person, but this was…something was different. She hadn't been THIS bright eyed and bushy tailed this early since she was, like, seven. Not that he didn't love seeing her happy or anything; it was just different. He tried again, not wanting to pry too much and accidentally spoil her mood.
"You put pixy sticks in your hot chocolate or something?"
"Ooooo, do you think that would work?"
"Like you need any help with energy," Sam said dryly, coming out of the bathroom in only his jeans and shaking his wet hair. He smoothed it back, his nose turning happily to the scent of coffee. "Smells great, Bug, thank you," he said.
"I got that oatmeal with the brown sugar and berries that you like," she practically sang back to him, still on whatever high she was on. Sam's forehead wrinkled in confusion. He looked at Dean for a clue as to what was going on, but Dean just shrugged. Oh well.
"Thank you again," Sam said, squeezing Natalie's shoulder on his way past her towards the table. "Was the coffee shop close by?"
"Couple blocks. Easy morning walk."
"Excellent. Good to know."
"Alright Team Free Will," Dean said, breaking back into the conversation. "Assignments for today. Sam, you take Natalie and head to the morgue. See if you can find anything weird on the vics."
"I thought we were all agreed it was a shifter?" Natalie said, placing her shoes neatly beneath the small coffee table and walking back towards them. She slipped into the open chair, reaching for her own cup. "Not usually the ones to show weird markings."
"It looks that way, but you know as well as I do that these things aren't always as simple as they appear to be. We gotta cross every T and dot every I. Make sure, you hear?" Dean said, looking her dead in the eye.
"Yes, sir," she answered back, nodding her head in understanding. Dean's eyes relaxed a little at that.
"Good. So you two head to the morgue, I'll hit the police station, and we rendezvous back here for dinner. Any questions?"
"Am I gonna have to do any autopsies today, Uncle Sam?" Natalie asked, her gaze swinging to her uncle.
"Only if we find something weird," he said, his forehead wrinkling again as he watched her twist her lips, a bit unhappy with the answer. "What's the matter? You've never had any issues doing them before," he asked, concern touching his voice. Natalie tightened her hands into fists briefly. They caught her taking a quick, vexing look at her nails before relaxing her hands and picking up her sandwich, biting into it.
"Nothing's the matter. Just asking," she said, her cheery mood from before back instantly. As she munched away happily, Sam's eyes sought Dean's again. He raised his eyebrow, silently asking for an answer. Dean just shook his head, his eyes darting over to his daughter. He'd figure it out sooner or later.
*SPN SPN SPN*
Later that evening, Dean walked into the motel room, his hands full of files. "We got some nice, gruesome reading ahead of us tonight, Sammy," he commented dryly to his brother, who was just pulling his flannel on over his tee shirt. He looked around, but Natalie wasn't in sight.
"Where's the kid?" he asked lightly, trying not to seem like the over protective father that they all knew he really was. He was trying to loosen some of the reins, really trying now that she was eighteen. He wanted to give her a little space and freedom. Secretly, he was terrified that she was going to run off on him like Sam had done, but the logical side of his brain reminded him that Natalie wasn't Sam and wouldn't do that to him.
"She's been in the bathroom for about an hour now," Sam said, frowning. "Dude, I have no idea what's up with her," he said, dropping his voice into a whisper. "She's been all giddy all day, and then the second we got back to the motel, she almost shut down. Got real quiet and almost…nervous, I guess? She showered as soon as we got back, and she hasn't gotten out of the bathroom since."
"Did something happen while you two were at the morgue?" Dean asked. Sam shook his head.
"Nothing that I saw. There were no weird marks, nothing except snapped necks and spines. And what was up with her not wanting to do any autopsies earlier this morning? That's never bothered her before."
"I dunno, Sammy," Dean sighed. "Maybe this is just one of those mood swings, you know?" But Dean couldn't disguise the doubt in his own voice, not from Sam. Before they could discuss it any farther, however, the bathroom door opened. Natalie stepped out in a cute red top and tight black jeans, her dark hair artfully swept up on the sides. And she was wearing makeup. It wasn't a lot, but it was enough for the brothers to notice.
"Wow- you look great, Bug," Sam said suddenly, filling the awkward silence in the room. Natalie smiled at the praise, but her eyes sought her father's, trying to size up his response.
"What are you all dolled up for?" Dean asked gruffly. He instantly hated himself for not saying how pretty she looked, but there was no way anything other than a demand for an explanation was coming out of his mouth first.
Natalie didn't seem too affected by it. She took a deep breath and looked Dean right in the eye. "Because I have a date," she said evenly. She tried to keep her face as straight as possible, but the twinkle in her eye betrayed her.
"You have a what now?" Dean asked, his voice getting louder without meaning to.
"A date," she repeated calmly. "He works at the coffee shop I went to this morning. He was really cute and kinda funny in a weird way. He asked me out and I said yes so…yeah."
"And you were going to tell me this when?"
"Right now?" she answered with a pleading smile. When Dean's gaze narrowed dangerously, she held up her hands. "Dad, I'm eighteen now. You said I could date when I was sixteen. And now that I'm legally an adult, I get to make calls like this, right?"
"We're on a case."
"I promise that I will do my share of the leg work when I get back. We're just meeting for pizza, I'll be home way before curfew. I'll leave the tracker on my cell on, you can see exactly where I'll be the entire time. I'll even text you when I get there and when I leave." Natalie bit her lip, waiting patiently for Dean's response. He didn't have a leg to stand on and they both knew it, but she really didn't want to make him upset with this whole thing, so she put all her cards on the table at once. Sam's gaze swung around to his brother's, waiting as well.
Dean finally gathered up enough wits to realize the whole room was waiting for him to make a move. With a low grumble, he broke the silence. "Fine. Have fun," he muttered. Natalie's face broke out in ecstasy.
"Thank you, Daddy!" she trilled, rushing over to him and throwing her arms around his torso. Dean just mumbled something under his breath again before hugging her back.
*SPN SPN SPN*
Natalie said a polite goodbye to the Uber driver and carefully closed the door behind her. Despite his acquiescence to the date itself, Dean had flat out refused to let Natalie borrow Baby. Likewise, Natalie refused to let herself be dropped off for a date like she was in middle school. Sam came to the rescue with the Uber app.
Leaning outside on the wall of the pizzeria was her rather handsome date. "Hi Bryce," she said a touch shyly, while trying to give off an air of confidence. She had been glad that Dean didn't press her for the details, because if she had to tell him that she was going out with a guy named BRYCE she'd never hear the end of it. Bryce was better looking than she remembered, but his wardrobe was definitely unexpected. She gestured to the black biker jacket. "Wow. Guess that doesn't exactly fit the coffee shop employee dress code, eh?" she said with a flirtatious tilt of her head. The jacket wasn't in the best condition, but she was too polite to mention it.
Bryce smiled at her. "Yeah, they don't exactly let you wear leather when you're making espresso," he said charmingly. Natalie giggled. He suddenly seemed to gather himself, and tried to stand taller. "But you should know that this is how I dress. Pretty much all of the time," he continued, his voice taking on a sudden pompous air. He popped the collar of his jacket and gave her a look worthy of Joey Tribbiani.
A bit thrown by the sudden rush of testosterone from this dude, Natalie stammered for a moment. "Oh. Uh…that's great. It uh… well it looks great on you," she finished off with a smile.
"Yeah, I know," Bryce said cockily, before turning towards the door and yanking it open. Wow, Natalie thought to herself. Arrogant much? She hadn't seen that side of him at the coffee shop. Then again, that interaction hadn't been more than…what…twenty minutes? He also didn't bother to hold the door for her. Not that it was a deal breaker or anything, but Sam had taught her well about red flags on a date, and this sent one up for her.
She followed him into the small restaurant. A sign at the front said to seat themselves, so Bryce led the way to a small table towards the back of the room. An older waitress came sidling right up to them. "Well, hey there, Bryce! Good to see you!" she said familiarly. "Who's this pretty girl you got with you tonight?" the lady asked, turning her matronly smile on Natalie. But before she could introduce herself, Bryce snapped his fingers.
"Don't matter who she is, the point is she's with ME," he said in a wanna-be T-Bird member voice. Natalie's jaw dropped at the rudeness that Bryce was displaying. The waitress looked completely taken aback as well, as if she'd never heard Bryce speak this way before. "Now if you're done with your gabbing, please get me and my lady some beer."
Natalie instantly held her hand up. "Hang on," she said sharply. "I'm gonna pass on the beer," she said, a touch of steel in her tone. "I'll just take a coke, thank you," she said kindly to the waitress. Bryce's gaze snapped to Natalie's, and for a split second, she saw panic in his eyes. But he quickly recovered his tough guy exterior.
"Fine. You don't wanna live on the edge, suit yourself," he said, throwing himself into a chair. "Me, I like to live dangerously," he purred at her. The surprised waitress walked away without another word. Natalie sat down cautiously, already regretting the entire evening.
"You, uh…you seem more…sure of yourself than you were earlier at the coffee shop," she commented casually, but there was a definitive trace of annoyance in her tone. The guy that she had met this morning had a kind of self-deprecating sense of humor, and had broken out in a flop sweat when he asked her out. It had been casual and flirty and sweet. She never would have said yes to a date if she'd known it was going to be like this.
"I'm full of surprises, baby," he said, making a sweeping gesture with his hand and knocking the napkin holder over in the same movement. "Oh crap, I didn't…" he began, suddenly sounding like a panicked kid, before clearing his throat and setting his hand down on the table. "I mean…I meant to do that."
"Really."
"…Yes."
Natalie rolled her eyes and picked up the napkin holder as the waitress returned with their drinks. "So do you two want to order a pizza, or pre-cut slices?" she asked roughly, obviously still stung at her treatment from earlier and wanting to get them out as soon as possible.
"Slice of pepperoni, please," Natalie answered in a rush, eager to get this over with as quickly as possible. The waitress nodded to her, almost sympathetically, before turning to Bryce. She pinched her lips and didn't say anything. Bryce sniffed in what he supposed was a manly way.
"Yeah, I'll take the pep, too," he said, nodding at Natalie. "The lady has good taste."
Giving him a reluctant smile at the compliment, Natalie picked up her drink for a long pull. The waitress stalked off to put the order in. Bryce rubbed his index finger around the tip of his thumb absentmindedly. Natalie kept drinking until it was obvious that Bryce wasn't going to do anything to help the conversation. She put her drink down and gamely took a stab at it.
"So Bryce, what do you do for fun?" She hated herself a little for asking the typical lame first date question, but this guy wasn't giving her much to work with.
"Oh, you know, lots of stuff."
Pause.
"…like?"
"Oh. Yeah, well, me and my buddies…my crew, you know, we have a movie camera, and we drive around, looking for cool stuff to film. Like you know how sometimes there's like spotlights in the sky, like for a movie premiere or something? Yeah, we'll look for that and then follow it and film it."
"Oh really?" she asked, slightly intrigued. This might at least have a cool story or something behind it.
"And so far, no, we haven't found anything like that yet."
Well, the one good thing about tonight was that Dean was going to be happy when she came home even earlier than planned.
*SPN SPN SPN*
Sam looked up in surprise when Natalie came in through the door, but Dean didn't. She'd kept her end of the deal and texted him the minute the Uber driver had arrived for her. "Didn't expect you home so soon, Bug," Sam said hesitantly.
She shrugged and sighed. "Just goes to show you really shouldn't judge a book by its cover," she answered, trying to keep it light hearted, but it was obvious she was disappointed. Before they could say anything though, she dropped down next to Dean on the couch, sighing again, but this time, it was annoyed. "Can't believe I put on makeup for that," she grumbled.
Dean was working as hard as he could to keep his face sympathetic while his insides did the conga at the fact that his baby girl was no longer out with some boy. "Them's the breaks, kid," he said, rubbing her leg affectionately. "Was he a jackass to you?" he continued, unable to keep his protective side from rearing its head.
"He was a total twat," Natalie complained. "Completely unlike the guy that I thought I met earlier today. He was all full of himself and trying so hard to be 'cool' that he just came across as a conceited douche bag."
Dean put his arm around her, pulling her over towards him. "That sucks, squirt. He was probably too nervous and completely unable to handle how incredibly awesome you are."
"Oh yeah, THAT'S undoubtedly it." But she did laugh a bit.
"You want me to shoot him?" Dean asked, in a mock sentimental voice. That elicited an actual giggle from her, making him grin. "Cause I will."
"No, he's not worth the bullet," she said, snuggling in a bit. She looked over at Sam. "You want me to get to work on those files?" she asked. Sam just smiled kindly at her, before picking something else up from the table and walking towards her. He tossed it into her lap.
"Really?" she asked, sitting up straight and holding the Hershey's bar. "You're voluntarily giving me junk food?" she questioned, her smile genuine. That smile was Sam's own sweet reward.
"You had a sucky night. You deserve chocolate," he said with a shrug. She smirked at him, before tearing into it. She broke off pieces and handed them over to the guys, who were both reluctant to take them.
"Oh come on," she groaned. "You guys know by now that I like sharing. Just take it. I've had a rough night," she added with a self-congratulatory smile. They took it, and all three Winchesters dived into the police files.
Part 2 coming tomorrow
