7. The Processing Plant

Our trek to the processing plant takes us into darkness. When the sun decides to go to sleep, I decide to take a catnap in the back, sprawled out along the length. My arms are crossed protectively over my chest. The engine is oddly soothing.

"Sorry about that," I hear Dean say. I keep myself still. Henry must be awake. He's gonna have a nice black eye from where Dean punched him. Negotiation is not the first weapon of choice for Dean Winchester, it seems. Violence always seems to get picked first no matter the circumstance.

"No, you're not," Henry tells his grandson. "You've wanted to do that since we met."

"Henry, you need to understand something. When my dad died, I couldn't save him...no matter how bad I wanted to. I never want that to happen to Sam...ever. If there's a chance that I can save him, I'm gonna do it. He's my brother. He's the only family I got."

"So, what are you thinking?"

"Can you slow Abaddon down? Because if you can, I'll do the rest."

For a while, there's silence, and I almost think I've missed something important. But I'm disturbed by the Impala's engine no longer running. I roll my head as I open my eyes. We're in front of the processing plant now. I sit up and peek in between Henry and Dean. Henry's going to town with a knife on a bullet.

My head is tilted in question, and once Henry's done, he hands over his finished work to Dean.

"A devil's trap carved into the bullet," Dean says in awe. Another thing I don't understand. I watch as he clicks the bullet into a gun and hands it over to Henry. "You're gonna have to get close. And 'close' means it could get ugly."

"I know. But you do that for blood."

"So,"-both of the men jump at my voice-"what's the plan?"

"I thought you were sleeping?" Dean gets harsh with me.

"I napped. So, this devil's trap thing, it's gonna kill Abaddon?"

"Not kill her, just keep her from leaving her meat-suit."

I wrinkle my nose. "Lovely way of saying her possessed body."

"We got to make it look convincing." Dean, Henry, and I file out of the Impala, and Dean heads to the trunk of the car. Henry and I wait patiently while Dean looks in the back.

"Maybe you should stay here, Natasha," Henry tells me firmly. "It could get ugly, like Dean said."

"Eh." I shrug. "If I keep my distance, I'll be fine."

"This isn't like the last time we encountered her. You have the option to stay put."

"But I'm not."

"And why don't you?" His brows crinkle together.

"I don't know...I feel like I should be there as a helping hand."

"A helping hand?" Dean cuts in. "No offense, Natasha, but I think I'm with Henry on this one. You're a better helper in the car than where we're going."

I purse my lips and look down at his hands. "Um, what are you doing with those?"

"It's all part of the element of surprise. These won't be fastened, so when Henry gets a good shot, he'll be able to take it."

"Ah, so it's a bit of acting now." I nod. "Nice touch. It's one thing to look the part, though, you have to play it well too."

"We don't need a coach."

"Can't I at least be a lookout?"

"No," Henry and Dean tell me.

"Ugh, fine." I cross my arms and saunter back towards the backseat. "I won't screw up the plan. I'll be in here. But I swear if anything bad happens-"

But the boys have already taken off. I growl in my throat as I lean against the Impala instead of sit in it. The figures disappear deeper into the processing plant. I don't know why, but I feel obligated to go along with them as a lookout.

I kick at the ground in boredom, my blue eyes are up at the night sky. One corner of my mouth twitches slightly. A perfectly ordinary night over an unnatural world.

I eat away at the skin on my lower lip. The minutes go by, and I don't hear anything. Just how far did they have to go in to meet Abaddon and Sam? I hope the plan gets pulled off. I hope everyone except Abaddon makes it out alive.

I don't want to see one or two men come back, I want to see all three.

I pick my head up as I hear it: the loud bang that's muffled to my ears. Without any hesitation, without any weaponry, I run the direction Dean and Henry had gone. I don't think about them, though, as I'm running. I think about a formidable enemy that had almost killed me and two others, innocents who didn't understand the concept of territory. They had been new to the homeless world. They hadn't stood a chance, not until I came to their defense and saved them.

I don't feel as though I'm in a processing plant, I feel like I'm back on the streets, barreling down alleyways. My heart is running as fast as my legs are. Did Henry miss? Did he get Abaddon? Did the plan go wrong? While my mind is reeling with thoughts, I'm somehow laser-focused enough to pick up on a building with an open way. I don't think twice about it, I run right through it.

I don't call out names in case Abaddon is listening, or if she's got help. I search the dark inside, and it isn't until I hear muffled voices coming from the other side of a door that I believe I've found the battleground.

"Dean!" I pound on the door. I look up frantically as I hear loud crashes and see the lights above me flicker. Somebody pissed off Abaddon. I swallow. "Dean! Let me in!" My hands scale the larger-than-life door. I end up scaling the wrong end and quickly rush over to the opposite. I dig my fingers and begin to pull. The door barely gives way to me.

Come on, come on! They might need me! With loud cries and grunts to accompany, I dig my heels into the ground and use all the strength I've got in me. Come on! I'm getting slight traction, I see a peek of the room on the other side. With another loud bellow, I heave until I find a slit big enough for me to slip through.

I squeeze through, and the first thing I do is run to Henry, who's leaning against Sam. I completely ignore whatever isn't in my line of vision.

"Natasha?" Henry croaks.

"I've never been a good rule-follower," I joke weakly as Sam guides Henry down. I'm crouched in front of him. I hold back the bile as I see the blood trails from his mouth. I shake my head. I look to Sam with pleading eyes. The shake of his head tells me that there's nothing that we can do for him. "I missed a good show, I assume?"

"Natasha?!" I cringe at the sound of Dean's angry bellow. "What the hell are you doing here?"

I look up at him and take note of the bloody machete. "I'm not next on the chopping block, am I?"

"You just might be." He readjusts his grip. I look behind him and hold down my vomit. Abaddon's head is off her shoulders, and her body is limp on the ground.

"We did it," comes Henry's fading voice, turning all of our attention to him.

I scooch a little as Dean joins to crouch beside me. "No, you did it. For a bookworm, that wasn't bad, Henry."

My heart breaks just a little at seeing Henry's broken smile. "I'm sorry I judged you two so harshly for being hunters. I should have known better."

"About?" Sam asks.

"You're also Winchesters. As long as we're alive, there's always hope. I didn't know my son as a man, but having met you two..." He holds out both hands, and the brothers each take one. "...I know I would have been proud of him."

The moment consumes me. I rise and run out of the room without a backwards glance, holding in the emotion. Nobody calls for me as I leave the room. I didn't know Henry Winchester for very long, but he didn't deserve it. Most who die often don't. I know that all too well.

I'm the first back to the Impala. I let the hot tears fall. I know I'm not to blame myself, but a small part of me does. I obeyed orders-for about fifteen minutes-and somebody died. I could have made a difference. My hands fist into my hair, and I feel like throwing a tantrum. Life isn't fair, I've known that for years. When you try and do something good, it kicks your ass as a reward to you.

I turn my head slowly at footsteps. Dean is coming for the car, and Sam is far behind him, having Henry's body slung over his shoulder. I put my fist to my mouth and meet Dean's tired eyes.

"You okay?"

I shake my head and look down at the ground. This is the nicest he's been to me since I've met him, and it's only been two days. "Was there ever a chance to save him?" I croak.

"Probably not," Dean tells me honestly. I flinch as he grabs my arm and look at him. "You're doing it again."

"Doing what?"

"Scratching."

"What are you doing about Henry?"

"We're gonna bury him."

I nod. "Good. He deserves that much."

"You should have stayed here, like we told you."

"I couldn't. I heard the shot and I just..." I shake my head again. "I don't run away from danger, if you haven't noticed."

"No, no you don't."

I slowly pull my arm out of his hand, he lets it go. After a solemn eye lock, I open one of the back doors of the Impala. "He's gonna be put back here, isn't he? Henry?"

"Unless you'd rather him be stuffed in the trunk or tied to the roof."

I wince. "I'll deal." I climb in and shut the door before I buckle in.

I wait patiently with my arm against the door as Sam finally makes it to the Impala. He engages Dean in short conversation which earns me a concerned look from Sam. Once the talk is over, he's around the back of the car and opens the opposite door. A little reluctant, I help him settle Henry in with me. Silently, the brothers don their respective seats up front, and the Impala starts up with a loud purr.

It may sound strange, what I do next, but I know it won't seem it to the Winchesters. I pull Henry beside me and stroke the top of his head. I glance into the mirror up front and see Dean flicker a gaze towards the back.

This feeling is so painfully familiar that I almost think I'm not mourning over an adult, that I'm mourning over a child instead. This isn't my first time having an issue with death. I've always had an issue with it. I've always felt good people get hit with it way before their time should really be up. I see more bad people live than good people, with what I've seen.

I only let one tear fall.

**RIP Henry Winchester </3

And the death toll is starting early.**