Hey hey, SPN Fam. How's it going? Not gonna lie, I'm exhausted and a little sad and stressed. Started a new job (which is wonderful but stressful) and for the first time in six years I have significant writer's block on this story. I have prompts, I have ideas, but either no energy or motivation, so maybe it's not writer's block, just apathy. I know, I know, first world problems. Just getting it off my chest. Thank you for your patience as I work though whatever this is so I can keep going. I have a little motivation this weekend and I'm going to see what I can do with that. Any good vibes are appreciated. Special thanks to Jenmm31 for her notes on this story and for being an inspiration herself. In this story, Natalie is three. Please see profile page for disclaimers.
Sam rubbed his temples, exhausted and frustrated. He was on Natalie duty this morning, and the three year old had apparently gotten her hands on some Red Bull. Or cocaine. Or possibly both.
She was so wound up, running around and crawling over every piece of motel furniture that she could touch, that Sam was surprised she wasn't giving off the odor of burning rubber, tearing around the room like she was. She was determined to scale the dresser despite the fact that Sam had already pulled her off of it three times. The last time, he threatened a Time Out if she tried to climb it again. Natalie had cocked her head towards him, trying to figure out if he would actually follow through or simply chicken out like last time. She still wasn't sure enough to test him yet, so she settled for climbing onto Dean's bed and beginning to jump.
"Natalie, no jumping on the bed," Sam said in a weary voice, getting up from his refuge of the small table by the window and walking over to her. She continued bouncing gleefully, as if she hadn't heard him at all. "What did I just say, young lady?" he said in a slightly louder tone.
"I don't know! I didn't listen!" Natalie answered back, bouncing away happily. Sam rolled his eyes and put his hands on his hips.
"You know you're supposed to listen to me when I talk, don't you?"
"Yes but you talk quiet and I can't hear you when I'm jumping."
"If you stopped jumping on the bed you would hear me."
"But jumping is fun so you talk louder."
Sam just let out a frustrated huff and reached out, snatching the toddler mid-bounce. "Hey!" Natalie squeaked, unamused.
"I said no jumping on the bed, Bug," Sam said, setting her down on the floor quickly before she started writhing, as she was wont to do. "You could get hurt."
Natalie pouted, mimicking Sam by putting her hands on her hips. "But you said I can't climb on the dresser!" she argued, as if there was an obvious correlation between the two things.
"That's right. You can't climb on the dresser AND you can't jump on the bed."
"But then there is nothing that I can do!"
"You can play with your toys, you can look at your books, you can color…"
"I do that a lot in Baby and in the other rooms!" she said, staring at Sam as if he was the dumbest person on the planet. "I wanna do what THIS room wants me to do."
"Well, Bug, this room doesn't want you to jump on the bed or climb on the dresser."
"Yes it does too."
"No it doesn't," Sam said, his tone growing a bit more stern. Natalie opened her tiny mouth to argue again, but he held up his hand. "You're not doing it, end of discussion." He tried to instill his brother's tone into the statement; it usually got the child's attention.
Natalie's adorable face wrinkled in confusion. "That's what Daddy says."
Sam nodded sagely. "That's right. And what does it mean?"
"That…that when Daddy says it that's what we do," Natalie said, puzzled. She looked up at Sam innocently. "But YOU said it." She cocked her head to the side, trying to figure it all out. The situation just didn't add up to her.
"So don't you think that it means when I say it too, that's what we do?"
"No 'cause you're not Daddy."
"But I'm in charge when your daddy isn't here, right?" Sam asked, praying his razor thin patience would hold on. However, Natalie just shrugged in response. So much for that prayer. He reached down and pulled the toddler into his arms, placing her on his hip. "Well, let me clear it up for you," he said dryly. "I'm in charge."
"But you're not fun," Natalie whined.
Pinching his eyes shut, Sam started the silent mantra that had been running in his head all morning. She's three, she's three, she's only three, he repeated to himself. "I'm sorry that you think I'm not fun," he said simply, still repeating the phrase in his head as he tried not to be hurt by her childish statement. "What would be fun for you?" He continued speaking quickly as she excitedly opened her mouth to reply. "That's NOT jumping on the bed or on the dresser?"
Deflating like a balloon at the dismissal of her most fun ideas, Natalie recovered by tapping her lips with one finger as she thought. "You and me could play together, Unca Sam!" she said, her eyes lighting up. "You're fun when you play with me!"
Sam bit his lip. This was part of the trouble he and Dean were constantly running into these days. They had a lot of very boring research work to do with a child who needed constant stimulus. For the most part, they had lucked out- Natalie could be entertained for hours with crayons, action figures, and books. But once she crossed the line- once the manic toddler energy had built up in her to the point that she needed to be constantly on the move or she would explode- boring research and a feisty kid did not a good combination make. And he definitely had stuff he needed to do this morning. He was supposed to be hacking into the local traffic cams, searching any streets for the anomaly that kept randomly popping up. They were pretty sure it was tied to the disappearances, but they needed to get a good, solid look at what was actually happening. At this point, he'd made it through only about a quarter of what he needed to do. He'd been too busy trying to keep Natalie from killing herself by flinging her body off the dresser.
Glancing desperately at his watch, he realized with relief that it was nearly noon. Dean would come back and Sam was going to insist on going to a diner for lunch. Or the gas station, or even a roadside lemonade stand. Anything to get the kid out of the room and distracted. He just had to hang on for a little while longer.
Sam looked back at the eager child in his arms. "Tell you what. We can play a game. How's that?"
Natalie considered the offer for a moment, then nodded vigorously. "Yeah! I like games! I like when you and I play games!"
"Okay then," Sam said, slapping on his fake smile and begging his brain to come up with something. "Uh…." he said, walking around the room and bouncing her a bit. He could feel her staring a hole into the side of his head as he tried to think of anything that might work.
"We can play hide and seek?" Natalie offered, wanting to help out. Sam grinned at her.
"Great idea, Bug. Do you wanna hide first, or should I?"
"I'll hide first! I'm really good at it!" Natalie began squirming excitedly, and Sam placed her back down on the ground. "Okay now, you gotta count to a million," she said bossily.
Sam chuckled. "A million, huh? That's an awfully big number," he said, then immediately berated himself. The kid just gave him the perfect out for getting his work done, and he was trying to talk her out of it? Who was the smarter one here anyway?
Luckily for him, her mind was made up. She nodded stubbornly. "Yes, Unca Sam," she explained patiently as if he were an idiot. "It's gotta be a million."
"If you say so, Bug. One, two, three…."
Sam watched as Natalie frantically tore around the room for a second, looking for a good hiding spot. However, when he got to ten, Natalie suddenly whipped around. She pointed an accusing finger at him. "Hey!" she yelled. "You are not a'sposed to watch! You are cheating!"
Holding up his hands in surrender, Sam bowed his head slightly and backed away. "You're right, you're right. Sorry," he said lightly, smiling at the carpet. "How about I go sit at the computer and pretend to work on stuff while counting? Then I won't see where you hide?"
"Yeah! Do that!" Natalie squeaked, jumping up and down. "Go, go, go!" she commanded. Sam let out a half sigh, half laugh combo. She was so bossy. And short. Like her father. He sat down at the laptop and resumed counting. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her begin the wild tear around the room again. She wriggled herself into the tiny bathroom somewhere around the number sixty. Sam could hear the rustling of the plastic shower curtain as she crawled into the tub. But he kept counting- he jumped every eight or nine numbers so he could concentrate in between and spoke just loud enough for her to hear as he typed away on the laptop.
Somewhere around two hundred, Natalie got bored with waiting for him to get done counting. "Unca Sam, how close are you to a million?" she asked loudly from her hiding spot.
"Not even close, Bug. But you said a million, so that's what I have to count to."
He heard her let out an exasperated sigh and settle back in to her spot. Sam allowed himself a moment to close his eyes and enjoy the tiny win. He had just hit one thousand three hundred, when the motel room door opened and Dean came striding in.
"How's it going, Sammy?" Dean asked by way of a greeting, taking off his suit jacket and carelessly tossing it onto the bed. He looked around the room quizzically, as he was fully expecting a three year old missile to attack him the second he entered the room.
As if she knew he'd be looking for her, Natalie piped up from the bathroom. "Hi Daddy!" she squealed delightedly from her hiding spot. "We're playing Hide and Seek and Unca Sam really sucks at it!"
"Natalie!" Sam scolded. Dean, however, burst out laughing, doubling over in the process. "Dean, she shouldn't be saying stuff like that," Sam said pointedly as Dean stood up straight and wiped his eyes.
Loosening his tie, Dean smirked at his little brother. "Why? We want her to tell the truth, don't we?" He chuckled at Sam's bitch face, then turned towards the bathroom. "Hmmm…where could Natalie be?" he mused loudly. The tiny giggle made his grin split his face in two. "Geez, I think I HEAR her, but I'm not sure where she is," Dean said in his mock serious tone. He snapped on the bathroom light. The room was so tiny that the only place she could possibly be out of sight was the bathtub, but he was Daddy and needed to make a meal out of this. He looked back at Sam to make sure he wasn't stepping on their play time, but Sam had already refocused on the laptop and was furiously typing away, looking frustrated. Nerd.
Dean pulled a towel off the towel bar and shook it out noisily. "Well, she's not hiding in the towels," he mused, barely suppressing his laugh when he heard her slap her hand over her mouth to keep from making any noise. He turned on the faucet. Twisting the knob back to off, it gave a rusty squeak. "Well, good thing she's not hiding in the sink otherwise she'd be all wet." Natalie couldn't help it. She laughed out loud at that one.
"AHA!" Dean said dramatically, ripping the shower curtain back. "SHE HAS BEEN FOUND!" he hollered triumphantly. Natalie jumped up, throwing her hands in the air in triumph.
"YOU FOUND ME! I WIN!" she shrieked with glee. Dean swooped down, scooping her up into his arms and pulling her close, growling and nipping at her ear as she screamed with unabandoned laughter. Stepping out of the bathroom so he'd have more room to swing her around, Dean finally flipped her around in his arms so he was looking in her adorable face.
"See? I'm better at Hide and Seek than Uncle Sam," he said smugly. "I win."
Natalie shook her head and laughed like he was crazy. "Nuh-uh!" she said, wound up to the max. "I win 'cause I'm the best at Hide and Seek!"
"You didn't win! I found you!"
"I did too because I beat you AND Unca Sam!"
"Hate to break it to ya, kid, but I found you. That means you lost and I win."
"No it doesn't!"
"Does too!"
"Does NOT!"
"Could you two please keep it down?" Sam interjected loudly over the both of them. Father and Daughter turned their heads in tandem at the interruption, both scowling at Sam as if he was the biggest buzz kill in the world. Sam sighed, closing his eyes for a moment and summoning the last ounce of patience he had left. "It's very hard to concentrate with you two yelling and I really need to try to make it through these camera feeds." He tried to put a calm, rational smile on his face, showing that he was attempting to make peace.
Neither one of them bought it. Dean turned back to the child in his arms. "Geez. Uncle Sam's a little bitch, isn't he?" he asked her point blank.
"I know," Natalie said back, nodding her head seriously.
Sam slapped his thighs as he stood up. "Alright, fine," he snarled at them. "Tell you what. You two go out to get lunch. Go to a café, and just stay there for a while. Let her eat garbage and get full of sugar, Dean. Just give me some peace and quiet while I try to figure out what the hell this thing we're supposed to be chasing is, okay?"
"Whoa there, Sammy," Dean said, surprised at Sam's sudden vehemence. "Take it down a notch, okay? We're just playing."
"Well, I'm not," Sam replied hotly. "I haven't gotten anywhere on the traffic cams today because…" He stopped himself just before accusing Natalie. She's three, she's three, she's only three. "It's just been a distracting morning, okay?" He sat back down heavily into his chair, angry at himself for his lack of patience and that he had to keep reminding himself that he couldn't rationally be upset with a child for being a child.
"Aw, c'mon Sam. Lighten up," Dean said teasingly, trying to diffuse the tension in the room. However, it was the exact wrong thing to say at the exact wrong time. Dean, of course, didn't see that. He trotted over to his brother with Natalie still in his arms. "Does it distract you when I do this?" he asked, poking Sam in the side of the head with his finger.
Sam batted away Dean's hand, growling in frustration. Dean just shared a mischievous look with his daughter, and they both laughed at him. Sam put his face in his hands. He should have known. He should have realized by now that Dean coming back wouldn't get Natalie to calm down. Now he, Sam, had two three year olds to deal with. He was never going to get anywhere on this case and people were going to continue to get killed. When Dean poked him again, he snapped.
He stood up, slammed his laptop shut, and spun around, deliberately getting closer to Dean so his height would be emphasized. "Dean!" he roared right in his brother's face. "If you don't quit screwing around right now I swear I'm gonna…" And then he saw Natalie. She was cowering in Dean's arms. She had never heard Sam yell like this before. He was scaring her.
Sam instantly took a step back, feeling like shit. "I…I'm sorry," he said roughly. He then realized that tone was no better. Taking a deep breath, he rubbed his hands down his face. "I didn't mean to yell like that…I just…I'm…" He tossed his hands in the air helplessly, unable to express himself without feeling like an even bigger asshole. He sat thumped back down into his chair, staring at his shoes.
Dean went into instant Big Brother Protective mode, while still firmly on the Fun Dad train. He squeezed Natalie a little closer and gave her a reassuring kiss on the side of her head. "Seems like Uncle Sam has had a rough morning, huh?" he asked her as he bounced her gently. Natalie nodded her head cautiously, watching Sam as if she expected him to start throwing things. "Well, you know what? I think the best thing for all of us would be to go get some lunch. Seems like we all could use a little fresh air and a change of scenery."
Sam shook his head, but refused to meet Dean's gaze. "Dean, you two go. I need to go through the footage. Just bring me something back." He looked up suddenly when he felt Dean's hand on his shoulder.
"Nothing doing, Sammy," Dean said, his tone gruff but his eyes kind. "Look, I'm sorry I pushed you, okay? I was just trying to get you to lighten up and that freaking backfired. But you need to walk it off, man. Get out of this room and see the sun for once. C'mon. Let's go. Chop chop." Sam obeyed with a sigh. It was pointless to argue with his big brother when he got like this. He snatched his laptop and followed them out the door praying to maybe get through two more minutes of footage while out to eat.
Fifteen minutes later, they were heading for the closest free booth in the diner they'd been frequenting since arriving. Dean plopped Natalie down onto the booth seat, and shooed her towards the wall. "Scoot, shorty," he said. She pinched her lips and shook her head violently, as three year olds did.
"I don't wanna sit by the wall. YOU sit by the wall!"
"Nothing doing. Scoot in, now."
"Don't wanna!"
"You allowed to tell me no?"
Natalie pouted, but didn't argue anymore. With ill grace she scooted in towards the wall, and Dean sat down quickly next to her to forgo any escape attempts. On the other side of the booth, Sam worked up an encouraging smile.
"That was good manners, Bug," he complimented her gently, still feeling like a complete asshole for scaring her earlier. She was already over Sam's outburst though, and soaked up the praise from him like a sponge.
"Thank you!" Natalie trilled joyfully. She then turned to Dean with reproachful eyes. "Unca Sam says I got better manners than you." She smirked triumphantly at her father. Sam's smile twisted off to the side; hadn't been exactly what he'd said, but it was always a pleasure watching Dean receive the same annoying smirk he'd been giving off for years.
Dean looked down at her patronizingly. "That's not what he said."
"He meaned to say it."
Dean rolled his eyes at her competitiveness and started scanning the menu. After ten seconds, Natalie scrambled up onto her knees to see better. Giving it all of three seconds to adjust, she decided that she didn't like that and stood up.
"Uh uh," Dean scolded, tapping the seat with his finger. "Sit down."
"But I can't see!"
"You can't read the words on the menu anyways, what does it matter?"
"But I wanna SEE!"
"Hey- no yelling. That's BAD manners." Dean offered the child his smirk, causing her to stomp her foot in frustration. However, before he could do anything more than inhale to scold her again, the waitress stopped at their table.
"Well, my goodness, no one told me I had such a tall person at this table!" she said in a chipper voice to Natalie, whose face instantly broke out into a grin.
"I'm not tall, I'm just standing up!" she clarified.
"Oh, I see," the waitress said in an awe-filled voice. "Would you like a booster seat so you can see better and don't have to get tired by standing?" Still a little cheesed at her father, Natalie looked to Sam for confirmation. When he smiled and nodded encouragingly, Natalie turned back to the waitress, her thousand watt smile going full force.
"Yes, PLEASE," she said, clearly emphasizing and leaning on the word.
"Look at those manners! Wow! Those are the best manners I've ever seen!" the waitress gushed over-enthusiastically for the child's sake. "I'll go get your seat while you all decide what you want to eat, and I'll be right back, okay?" She turned and gave Sam a little wink as she walked away.
Sam chuckled quietly to himself as Natalie and Dean exchanged bitch faces and smirks again. Natalie was looking so smugly proud of herself, it was adorable. "I have the bestest manners, Daddy. I WIN at manners."
Noticing that the waitress was nearly back at the table, Dean muttered to the child. "Oh yeah? Watch this." When the waitress reached them, Dean smoothly took the booster seat from her. "Thank you so much, miss," he said in his most charming voice. "I really appreciate you taking care of this little rascal." With his free hand, Dean ruffled Natalie's hair. Her sweet smile instantly turned to outrage. But the waitress didn't seem to notice.
"Well, it seems like good manners run in this family, huh?" she said, smiling at both father and daughter, who were now smirking at each other competitively.
And the light bulb went off in Sam's head.
Sam cleared his throat a bit. "We do our best," he said, smiling. "Could I please have a water and the chef salad, dressing on the side?"
"Of course! And for you, sir?"
"Beer and a burger, medium well, extra onions and bacon," Dean said, before looking sideways at the three year old. "Please," he said, before turning back and flashing his pearly whites at the waitress.
Not to be outdone, Natalie tilted her head, turning on the Winchester charm. "Please chicken nuggets please please."
Sam heard the waitress barely suppress a snicker. "And would you like milk to drink with that?"
Natalie wrinkled her nose. "No please. Soda please."
Sam cleared his throat a little. Time to field test his idea. "Bug, I think it might be better manners to get milk." Dean looked at Sam, confused. Since when did milk have to do with manners? To his surprise, Natalie stared at Sam wide-eyed for a moment, then turned back to the waitress.
"Oh. Then please milk please." Natalie wiggled triumphantly in her booster seat, then look triumphantly at Dean. "I win."
Sam watched as the waitress pressed her lips together, trying to suppress her giggles. She caught Sam's eye, and he could tell she instantly knew what he was trying to do. Her grin back told him she was totally down to play this game.
Dean, not noticing anything except the pissing contest the three year old was dragging him into, couldn't let the moment pass by. "You know what?" he said, turning towards the waitress with that good old Winchester charm. "Would you please change mine to milk, too? Got to set a good example for the kid, you know."
"Oh, absolutely sir," the waitress said, making a big show of scribbling out Dean's previous drink order and writing down the new one. "I'll be right back with your drinks."
"Thank you!" Dean and Natalie both shouted in tandem at her back. Sam saw her shoulders quiver as the giggles overcame her and she beat a hasty retreat into the kitchen.
With a casual, nonchalant look at Natalie, Sam slid his laptop onto the table and opened it. "Wow, Bug," he said off handedly. "You're sitting up really straight. Good job."
Natalie instantly shot up as if a ramrod had been inserted into her spine. She smirked at Dean. "See Daddy?" she said loftily. "Sitting up straight is better manners than you."
Not to be outdone, Dean sat up straight as well. OUCH, he thought as his muscles complained about doing anything other than being slouched at a table. Realizing that his elbows were on the table as well, he pulled them off instantly. His face wrinkled in displeasure. "This feels weird," he muttered.
"Not for meeeeeeeeee," the three year old taunted in a singsong voice.
"I get extra points for pulling my elbows off the table."
"No you don't."
"Do too."
"Sorry, Bug, but he does have a point," Sam said casually, scrolling through the street camera footage. "He gets extra points for that."
"See? Told ya."
For the next thirty minutes, the battle silently and politely raged on. Every move that Dean and Natalie made was outdone by the other one. Dean reached up to wipe his mouth with his hand- all it took was a cocked eyebrow from Sam and Dean instantly reached for a napkin instead. When Natalie stretched across the table to pluck some of the bacon from Sam's salad, a subtle cough was enough to get her to snatch her hand right back. Sam enjoyed- no, he reveled- in a peaceful lunchtime unaccompanied by belches and food fights. Both Dean and Natalie muttered point counts to each other as the meal progressed, and neither one seemed to realize that they had cleaned their plates properly without scarfing it down.
When the waitress came with the check, Sam left her an obscenely large tip. She had helped throughout the meal by bringing more napkins and making a BIG deal about every polite word and gesture. She deserved it.
As they got up to leave, Natalie scrambled out of the booster seat and got right next to Sam. "Who won, Unca Sam?" she asked, insistent, her hands on her hips. "Who won, me or Daddy?"
"Yeah, Sam. Who won?" Dean demanded, just as insistently.
"I did," Sam said, with his own smug grin. He tucked his laptop under his arm and made his way to the door as Dean and Natalie shared a confused look and a shrug.
