Hey fam :) I'm not going to promise that I'm back...but Natalie isn't gone. That's all I can give you right now. Thanks for hanging in there for me, thank you to those to reached out to check in, and thanks to jenmm31 for not letting me give up on our girl. Much love!
a/n- in this story, Natalie is 15. Please see profile page for disclaimers
"Aw, c'mon!"
"You ask me one more time and you're going in the trunk."
"All I said was 'aw, c'mon'!"
"And that's your way of asking. Told you no already. So shut it."
"It's not like I haven't already driven before-"
"You think reminding me of that is helping your case? You're two seconds away from me sewing your lips shut, kid."
"But this time it's legal!"
"Even more of a reason for me NOT to do it."
"I need to practice, otherwise I'm never gonna get my license."
"If you need one- which you never will- Sam can make you one. You ain't driving. Now for the last time, shut your pie hole."
"But….aw, C'MON!"
Before Dean could pull over and make good on his threats to his stubborn fifteen-year-old spawn of Satan, Sam interjected. "Listen to your dad, Bug," he said in an almost bored tone, his mind clearly elsewhere as he flipped through their father's journal, looking for the proper way to kill pishtacos. "It's not happening today. Back off."
Natalie huffed and slammed back against the seat, trying to resist the urge to cross her arms and pout like she was five. She seriously didn't understand what the problem was. After months and months of her constantly begging, pleading, and downright harassing him, Dean finally relented and drove her to the DMV to get her permit. AND let her drive back to Bobby's right afterwards, with him beside her in the front seat.
And he hadn't let her back behind the wheel since.
"Dad, there's no one around for miles. It's the middle of the day. It's perfectly legal. AND I need the practice. What is the deal?! Why can't I drive?" Natalie pushed, completely ignoring her uncle. She also ignored the loud world-weary sigh Sam let out when he realized she was ignoring him.
"Because you can't," Dean growled back. "Don't you have some homework to do?"
"I finished it already, I told you that this morning when you asked."
"Sam, give her more homework to do."
"Sure. I'll just drop doing the research on the case we're heading towards because you can't get your kid to shut up."
"Screw you. You can't get her to shut up either."
"I know one thing that'll get her to shut up. Let her drive."
"How many times I gotta tell the both of you?!" Dean roared, finally past done with this whole conversation. "NO ONE IS DRIVING BUT ME TODAY. END OF DISCUSSION."
Silence. For a whole twenty two seconds.
"Dad, what if you thought of it as a training exercise?"
"Natalie, I swear to god…"
"Just hear me out, okay? Didn't Grandpa start teaching you to drive when you were like, ten?"
"Sam, you heard me tell her I was gonna kill her, right? Like that came out of my mouth, right?"
"And it only served you when you got older. I've already had to drive Baby-"
"If you heard me say it, does that count against me as pre-meditated murder?"
"-when I was thirteen, and you were so great at teaching me then-"
"Or does this count as self defense, since she's clearly a danger to herself by continuing to push me over a cliff?"
"I'm staying out of this, Dean."
"Wuss."
"LOOK," Natalie yelled, trying to get back on topic. "All I'm saying is this is an EXCELLENT opportunity to do some real training here."
"You clean the rifles this morning?" Dean asked, giving her The Eye in the rearview mirror. "You know, the training I actually asked you to do?" When Natalie rolled her eyes in response, Dean smirked. "Yeah, that's what I thought."
"Daaaaaaaad."
"Nataliiiiiiiiiie."
"But….just….you…..C'MON!"
That was the ultimate tipping point for Dean. He had heard her bitching about letting her drive for the past two hours….well, the past two months. He'd get around to letting her drive again eventually, but noooooo. This kid was like a dog with a bone. Couldn't let go of anything and stubborn as hell. He had no idea where she got it from. And he was DONE.
The thing was- fifteen years with a kid had taught him a thing or two. He'd hit his limit and was ready to put her in her place…but she didn't know that. Not with this even-tempered look on his face.
He calmly pulled the Impala over to the side of the back road they'd been driving down. He caught sight of Natalie perking up excitedly in his periphery. Once he put Baby in park, he turned in his seat to look at those wide green eyes that he truly loved. Most days. "Fine. FINE. You win kid. You want to do some training in the car? Let's go."
SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN
Nothing could be heard but the sound of Baby's tires speeding down the beautiful back roads as the driver hummed a happy tune that sounded a lot like Smoke on the Water. And Sam heaving another sigh.
Then another.
Then another.
The humming continued.
"Dean….c'mon."
The humming got louder.
"Do you really think this is the best solution?"
"She was the one who wanted to do training in the car."
"You know damn well that's not what she meant."
"You wouldn't assign her more homework. This is really on you, Samuel."
"Bullshit."
The humming began again. Dean started tapping out a drumbeat on the steering wheel, a very satisfied grin on his face. Sam went back to occasionally sighing and flipping through the journal, but kept his mouth shut this time.
Finally, after about another half hour, Dean realized they were just on the outskirts of the town they'd been driving to. Once again, he pulled the car over and put it in park. Showtime. He turned to Sam, grinning like an idiot at his brother, who was giving him his usual bitch face. "You wanna watch?" Dean asked gleefully.
"Sure. I love being a witness to attempted patricide."
Both men got out of the car. Sam took a couple steps to the side, wanting to be clear of the area. Dean jauntily walked around to the trunk, unlocked it, and threw it open.
With a roar of teenage rage, Natalie came flying out of the trunk brandishing a switchblade. Knowing his daughter as well as he did, Dean expertly sidestepped her attack and caught her as she hurtled herself through the air. He tried to get her in a wristlock to disarm her, but between her training and the sheer fury coursing through her veins, she put up a hell of a fight- even knicking him a few times- before he finally got the blade away from her.
"Nice, kid, very nice," Dean complimented his daughter, who was still heaving from her enraged battle. He spun the blade in his hand before pocketing it, knowing better than to give it back in her condition. "Your attack was a little sloppy, but that's understandable- being stuffed in a trunk for the past hour." He grinned at her furious face. "You look kinda like a feral raccoon," he said, chuckling.
Natalie just glared at him as she pushed her black hair off her sweaty forehead. "That WASN'T what I meant about training, and you know it!" she screamed, trying to decide if it was worth it to take a swing at him.
Ignoring her completely, Dean carefully examined the trunk, looking for any destruction she might have caused. "You use your bull's-eyes to get the tape off?" he asked casually, as if dads just duct taped their daughter's hands together every day as a "training exercise".
"Yes," she growled mutinously, wondering how long she'd get grounded for if she put a bullet in his foot.
"Nice," he said. "What did you do with the duct tape?" When all he got was a death glare, he shrugged and went back to examining Baby's trunk. When it became clear that Natalie hadn't done any damage in her fury (she wasn't THAT stupid), he shut the trunk and turned back to her. "Surprised that you didn't start cussing me out when you took the tape off your mouth in there."
Natalie bit her lips against the furious diatribe that threatened to pour forth now at his goading, knowing it would only result in her getting tossed back in the trunk. "If I ever actually get trapped in a trunk…you know, by another psycho…" she said sarcastically, unable to resist the jab. "…. I'm not going to give away the element of surprise by announcing that I've broken free."
"Smart girl," Dean complimented.
"You suck," Natalie spat back.
"I love you too, pumpkin," Dean replied cheerfully. "Now, since you got some good training in today and we're close to town, you can drive the rest of the way in."
It was like a light switch on the kid, so instant was her mood change. "You're not serious," she said, her green eyes going from fury to disbelief to hope in .5 seconds. Dean shrugged.
"You earned it. You want it?"
"Hell yeah!" He tossed her the keys. "Oh, HELL yeah," she murmured to herself in awe, all ire forgotten, as she looked at the keys in her hand. She practically ran towards the driver's side.
Dean turned towards his little brother. "Sam, backseat," he barked as he took shotgun.
Sam climbed into the backseat. "God, this family needs therapy," he muttered to himself. Dean watched like a hawk as Natalie carefully adjusted all her mirrors before turning on the engine. He couldn't help but notice the moment she shuddered in delight at hearing Baby's engine purr, and he felt like the king of the world. Natalie drove like a boss, right up to the front door of the motel. As they were getting out, Dean turned to her.
"Nice work, kid," he said gruffly, trying to hide the pride and the sadness he felt at yet another milestone passing with his beloved daughter. He masked his feelings in the best way he knew how- by being a smartass. "So the next time you wanna drive, let me know, I'll toss you in the trunk in chains this time and see how you do."
The bitch face that she gave him was one for the ages.
Later that night, Dean went back to the trunk for his casing of silver bullets. When he found it had been thoroughly wrapped with used duct tape, he could only grumble out one thing.
"Aw, c'mon."