Pictures of Matchstick Men

by WhatDreamsAre

Summary:

Emily Parker doesn't know what she is, or who she is, or why she's ended up in the care of the Winchester brothers, but she knows she has to get out. They have a very different idea. Triggers of non-con spanking and assault, rough Dean! OC female character, fluffy smut, eventual DD relationship.

Chapter 1

They had seen her before.

A memory, one that the two brothers had buried long ago, tried to resurface the moment they laid eyes on her from their seat in Ellen's small saloon. When she had called and told the boys that they needed to come quick, that there was a problem and that problem came in the form of a beautiful young woman, of course Dean had jumped at the chance without needing further prompting, but Sam had hesitated. He'd heard the last name before, the only name she'd given to Ellen, but he couldn't put his finger on where. He'd tried to get further details from her, but the older woman hadn't given any, just repeated "come quick," in that easy southern drawl of hers and hung up. So, there they were sitting in the back of the old saloon, enveloped by darkness as they watched the woman lean against the bar talking in a low voice to Jo. They had seen her before.

Ellen had made her way to them subtly, pretending she was wiping down their table as she leaned over to them and muttered "I'll try to close this place down shortly so we can get some answers from her." The usually slow bar was filled with men and women tonight, most of them standing around with beers in hand, staring at the woman at the bar right along with Dean and Sam, as if she had lured them all in there. And maybe she had. The woman was beautiful, possibly the most beautiful woman they had ever laid eyes on, and there was a hazy light that floated around her as if offering protection from the leering gazes she appeared oblivious to. Her hair was a rich chestnut brown, it fell in glossy waves down her back, ending right above a perfect ass enclosed in short daisy dukes, long legs bronzed and gleaming just like the rest of her. She had on a plain black tank top that was tucked into the top of her shorts, glimpsing at a set of small, pert breasts that heaved when she laughed at something Jo said. Her laugh sounded forced though, and her eyes strayed from Jo's face when she saw the blonde glance in the direction of the boys, and that was when she looked over too. Her perfect profile was suddenly in their view, all big blue eyes, bow shaped lips, a perfect nose, blemish free skin, sharp cheekbones with softly pink cheeks. Dean couldn't help but shake his head in awe letting a small "whoah" when she looked their way, but Sam didn't say a word as he studied her face. He knew her. He knew he did. Her smile didn't reach her eyes, they remained cold and unmoving as if she were boring straight into their soul, and suddenly it hit Sam and he grabbed onto Dean's wrist sharply.

"Parker." He spat the name quietly to his brother and immediately felt the tension rise in him. "That's Emily Parker."

It had been years since they'd seen her, she couldn't have been more then twelve or thirteen at the time, but she had been beautiful even then. It had been on a hunt with their father, for a nest of nasty bloodsuckers, she had been with her father, small, delicate, bright eyed, Sam had been so taken with her that his dad had to smack the back of his head to focus on the task at hand. He remembered now why he held such disdain for her, for her father. He was a hunter too, according to John Winchester, one of the best and one of the cruelest. He used his daughter as bait, and Sam remembered now, listening to him tell his father about how he did it, how natural it came to her. "There's something wrong with her," the man had told John, "she ain't quite human. Ain't quite right. But she's a hell of a looker, ain't she?" And the girl had turned at that and smiled at them, perfect straight white teeth, but dead eyes. She enjoyed what they did, she liked to watch, she never killed, but she certainly reveled in the aftermath of it. When the hunt had ended, the girl standing in the midst of them, Sam had remembered feeling so creeped out by them both, and when they'd gotten home, he'd taken the longest shower of his life.

So...what was she doing here?

"What do you think she wants?" Dean's low voice interrupted Sam's train of thought and he shook his head to try to clear it of the image of Emily's smile. "Why would she be here, and where's her old man?" His eyes were troubled, but he didn't say anymore. Just watched her.

It wasn't long before Ellen had made good on her promise. As the saloon emptied of its last drunken patron, who was still staring lustfully after Emily, Ellen locked the door behind him and turned to face them. " So," she clapped her hands and Dean and Sam finally stood, moving from the shadows to the middle of the room, a subtle square off. "Boys, this is Emily-"

"We know her," Sam interrupted, fixing his eyes on the petite girl's beautiful face again. "Long time, what, ten years? What are you doing here Emily?"

Emily didn't flinch at the height of the men in front of her, barely moved at all, in fact. She slowly straightened her body from the bar, turning to face them head on, and stuck another dead smile to her face. "I should ask you the same thing," her voice was steady, light, as delicate and pretty as she was, unassuming and melodic, but that was all she offered either. Dean bristled slightly, turning to Ellen to ask why she was wasting their time with this girl, when the silence was broken up by the loud ringing of a phone. Jo leapt behind the bar again, picking it up and listening for a second to a low voice on the other end. Sam and Emily continued to stare at each other, unmoving, as Ellen moved around them to pick up the phone from Jo. She listened for a second, then began to speak to.

"Yeah, she's here...yeah, the boys too," there was a long pause, too long for anyone's comfort, before Ellen offered the phone to Dean, "it's Bobby. You need to hear this for yourself."

Dean took the phone, turning away from the small group to listen to what the older man had to say. "Yeah, it's Dean. Bobby, why the hell are you sending us over here for Emily fucking Parker?"

"Dean." The voice on the other end cut through smoothly, leaving no room for an argument. "Jack Parker is dead. No one's quite sure how or what happened, but the girl... There's something you need to know about her, Dean. She isn't safe. And she needs to be. There's a lot to say and unpack, but I can't tell you now, not over the phone. I need you to take her with you, and she must be protected. At all costs."

Dean had opened his mouth to argue, to tell him no way in hell were they going to do that, but something stopped him. The sound in Bobby's voice was different. Strained. "Do it, boy. Don't argue with me. Do it. Take her to the bunker and make sure she stays there. I'm headed out tonight, but it'll be awhile before I can get to you."

And the phone went dead, leaving Dean there, no words to get in, nothing, before he finally turned to face them again. Then, plastering the same half assed smile the girl had on, he hung the phone up and spread his hands out. "Looks like you'll be joining us, princess."

 

It was clear from their body language that they had expected her to put up a fight. She studied the back of their heads from her place in the backseat of the Impala, noting the constant glances back and forth between them, occasionally catching the confusion in their eyes. The truth was, Emily had no intention of staying with them, not for an extended stay anyway, but tonight she needed a place to crash and a warm shower, and if her hunches that they stored copious amounts of weaponry in their bunker was correct, she'd hit the jackpot and be on her way in the morning. Emily's eyes met the rearview mirror, catching Dean's stare and she gave him the same lazy, fake smile, which evidently was just what he needed to go off on her. "Okay, ENOUGH of these bullshit pleasantries!" He moved his eyes back to the road, and she could see his hands tightening on the steering wheel. "Tell us the truth, Emily, what are you doing here? How did you find us and why did you have Ellen call us? We know this isn't some random house call, but not knowing what we're dealing with is making me feel nervous as hell. What happened to Jack? Did you kill him?"

For all the bravado she put on, the last sentence of his tirade made Emily flinch, color flooding her cheeks at the mention of her father. How dare he, how dare he talk about her father like that. She felt her anger bubble to the surface, even Sam seemed to realize that the interrogation had hit a bad note and he tried to cut in, "Dean, that's not cool man, we don't know what happen-"

"Oh shut it, Sam! Don't pretend you ain't thinking the same thing."

It was Emily's turn to interrupt now, she put her hands on either side of the boy's seats and pulled her body forward so that her head was between them both. Ignoring Sam for the time being, she turned her gaze to Dean and with the coldest, most venomous tone she could muster, she spat out, "don't you ever, ever put my father's name in your dirty fucking mouth, or it will be the last thing you do. What happened to him, what I did or didn't do, what we were hunting, what I'm doing here, is literally none of your fucking business, got it sweetheart?"

She knew she hit a nerve, a muscle in Dean's jaw twitched, out of the corner of her eye she saw his hands clench the steering wheel so hard she was sure he was going to break it right off. And then he slammed the car into park, sending Emily tumbling backward on the seat with a gasp of surprise. She barely had time to get her bearings before Dean had wrenched her door open and reached in for her, hauling her out by her upper arm and onto the empty road. A flash of fear crossed her face as he swung her around to grip her other arm and give her a hearty shake. She wasn't sure what hurt more, the bruising grip on her arm, or the ache pulsing in the back of her head from hitting the seat, but she didn't have time to dwell on it as Dean bent down to get into her face, his minty breath hitting her like napalm. "Listen here, you little spoiled bitch, I don't have time for your games, and I sure as hell ain't gonna take your lip! ARE. WE. CLEAR?" He punctuated each word with a small shake that made her head pulse even harder. By that time, Sam had gotten out of the car too, but if Emily had any notions that he was there to help her, they were bent to the wind when he rested his folded arms on top of the Impala and watched.

Fight or flight was kicking in, Dean's suffocating hold on her was elevating her panic to dizzying heights and before she could stop herself, she thrust her head back and then hawked up the biggest wad of spit she could, which she promptly sent flying into his face. Time seemed to freeze for everyone. Then Sam let out a loud, deep belly laugh as Dean dropped her right arm, a low growl sounding in the back of his throat. He brought his now free hand up to wipe the offending liquid from his eyes, and Emily pulled with all her might on her still trapped and rapidly bruising arm, screeching in a tone much different from the one she'd used before, "Let me GO!"

But he didn't. The world spun sharply as Sam let out one more chuckle, and an unhelpful, "Shit kiddo, you brought this on yourself," before ducking his tall body back into the car with a last shake of his head. In for it? In for what? Emily panicked as she continued to struggle, turning her attention back to the furious man in front of her. "Please let me go, Dean, I didn't mean-"

He laughed, short and tight, much different from his brother as he began walking her to the back of the Impala. Fuck, is he going to kill me? Her panic was intensifying, she felt like she was about to throw up or pass out or both, but instead, Dean forced her to the hood and bent her sharply over the back of it, smushing her face flat onto the surface of the shiny car, in which she could still see her terrified expression, and the angry man behind her. What was he doing? "Stop!" She could barely squeak the words out, she was too short to lay gracefully on the hood, so she had risen onto her toes, knowing that the tiny shorts she was wearing offered little to nothing for the imagination. Never mind kill, was he going to rape her? Tears filled her eyes, and she felt the liquid spill out onto the hood, making little rivers down the dust of the road. Dean pressed his hand firmly into her back, effectively cutting off her struggle and he stayed there for a moment, watching the pretty little thing beneath him trying desperately to squirm away. It almost made him hard, until he remembered why they were there in the first place.

"No, you stop," he spit out, and without another moment's pause, his hand lifted in the air and then cracked smoothly onto the wiggling ass below him. There was silence for a long moment after the noise of the smack faded into the road, and then Emily wailed, the panic even more evident in her voice. "Calm DOWN!" he laid two more stunning spanks across her cheeks, and Emily moaned pitifully as she tried to force herself to still, the burn from his hand beginning to bloom. "There! Was that so hard, sweetheart?" Dean chuckled again, his hand staying firmly on her back as he began to talk, "the way I see it, you aren't in any position to bargain. You ain't in any position to make threats, or to talk back, or to do your little spoiled princess act when we aren't even sure what we're dealing with here." He raised his free hand again, and it met Emily's bare upper thigh with such force, that it made her rise even further on her toes, another pitiful squeal leaving her lips. What was happening? Was he seriously spanking her? She had never in her life been spanked, never in her life been hit at all. Her father had preferred yelling and screaming over the physical and Emily felt her heart tighten at the thought of him. Luckily, or unluckily, Dean had laid a matching spank to her other thigh and it snapped her out of it.

"Dean, stop, please what are you doing?" She hated the weakness in her voice, hated the position he put her in. Her mind was a jumbled mess of thoughts and feelings, and she couldn't even breathe to sort them. She turned her head to the back window, mindlessly begging Sam to get out and stop this madness, stop Dean from his assault on her, but there was nothing but the back of his head.

"Uh, uh, uh," rough fingers knotted into the back of her hair, forcing her head to turn and her cheek to smash into the car again. "Ain't nobody coming to save you darling. So, let's chat. Let's get some things very clear here," he spanked as he spoke, never laying into the same spot, and Emily was finding it impossible to measure when the next was coming or to fully concentrate on what he was saying because all she could feel was pain and fire, and the humiliation of being chastised like a fucking toddler, but she tried desperately to stay still and to take in his words, hoping and praying it would make him stop. "You ain't in charge. You are here because we were told to take you, and we follow orders in this family or suffer the consequences. You're gonna find yourself in this position a lot if you don't start getting one thing straight, sweetheart, I am not obliged to take any shit from you, and I'm not gonna do it. You're gonna straighten out this ice queen attitude, you're gonna start talking, or this belt is coming off, you got it?" He had covered her entire ass by now, and he paused to take in his handiwork, noting the beautiful blush that had risen on her lower cheeks that weren't protected by her denim shorts. Two perfect handprints covered her upper thighs, and he was almost proud of himself, such a perfect ass she had, like it was just made for him to spank. He let her up, slowly, his grip coming to her upper arm again to help her straighten, her small free hand going back to rub out some of the sting, but Dean caught it deftly and pulled her wrist around so she was forced to face him again. Her face was stained with tears, but her eyes were blazing beneath the humiliation of what she had just suffered, and Dean was almost positive that she would've spat at him again if she didn't know what was going to happen if she did. "Aw, come on sweetheart, it was just a little spanking. Not even that hard. Not half what Sammy or I would've gotten if we ever did what you did to our dad."

Embarrassment colored her cheeks again, she bristled at the mention of the word "dad" and Dean could see the fire quickly returning to her face. "You're not my father," she spat bitterly, then out of nowhere, she burst into tears again. Surprised and a little unnerved, Dean drew the girl into his chest and hugged her tightly, not sure exactly what to do now that his anger had subsided and the girl was crying like he'd just shot her dog in front of her.

"There, there, it ain't so bad sweetheart," he patted her awkwardly on the back of the head and then felt Emily's arms break between them, shoving him roughly away.

"Can we just go?" There was the voice again, the bitter ice, even with her sore pride and sore behind, she wasn't going to be broken. Not by him. She stomped away from him and threw the car door open, sliding back in without another word, not looking at Sam or at Dean when he resumed his place up front. She just rested her forehead on the window of the car and closed her eyes, and in no time at all, she was asleep.

"Geez dude, did you have to be that hard on her?" Sam had waited for her to pass out before he finally spoke to his brother, turning his lanky body to face him. "We don't know anything about this girl, and now her first introduction to us is gonna be you going all caveman on her?"

Dean stared straight ahead, his jaw tight, shrugging one shoulder at his brother before he finally spoke again. "You know the rules, Sammy. We can't let this chick walk all over us, and we can't let her think she's got the upper hand. Right now we don't even know what we're dealing with, right? Besides, be honest, you think she didn't plan to make a run for it the second she's out of our sight at the bunker? She agreed a little too quickly to come with us, that's suspicious as hell. Maybe now she'll think about it a little harder."

Sam was quiet for a second before he acquiesced, running a hand over his tired face. "Yeah, you're right man. I guess I just didn't expect you to go all...all dad on her."

"Guess I'm a bit more like John Winchester than I thought," Dean shrugged again, then glanced in the mirror to check on the sleeping beauty in the backseat, a small twinge of guilt bubbling in his gut. "Between us, she's gonna need it. And we are too, Sammy. Ain't no way that little girl is gonna just lay down and stay put. She's gotta plan. And we have to stay ahead of it."

This time, both brothers turned to glance back at her, the bunker coming into sight ahead. She was still asleep, and with all her defenses down, the glow had returned to her form, and the peacefulness she exuded seemed to calm them both down as well. It probably wouldn't have even been noticeable to the naked eye, and Sam made a mental note to ask if Dean saw it too. But there wasn't time for that now, the Impala parked and the sound of the hand brake being pulled stirred her from her sleep.

Chapter 2: Mad, Mad World

Summary:

CONTAINS SPANKING

Emily blinked groggily as the bunker came into focus. It was unassuming enough, and she wondered what a bunker belonging to two young bachelors would even look like. Probably gross as hell, she thought sourly, shifting onto her butt to test out the feeling. It wasn't all that sore, but her pride certainly still was. She caught Dean's gaze in the rearview mirror and scowled at him, before reaching out to open the car door and get out. She waited for the boys to join, not looking either in the eye, the scowl still firmly in place on her face as she tapped her foot impatiently, waiting for Dean to open the trunk so she could grab out her duffle bag and backpack. She hadn't had a lot of time to pack, she'd mostly just shoved any clothing she could into the duffle along with some sentimental items and all the money Jack Parker had accumulated throughout the years. She was glad she'd remembered her toiletries, as she was fairly certain that what she'd find in their shower here would be a bar of dove soap and an old razor. Ugh a shower, I'd kill for a fucking shower. Her tapping became even more intense, Dean and Sam were certainly taking their time getting out of the car, and once they finally had, they'd moseyed around looking at the tires and talking back and forth about...shit, about basically nothing.

"Do you mind?" Spanking be damned, if Emily didn't see the inside of a bathroom in the next five minutes, she was going to annihilate them both where they stood. Dean looked up from his spot crouched by the front tire, and he eyed her carefully, the stony expression in his face unmoved. "Please?" She forced her voice to a softer octave, pouting out her lower lip and adopting a pose that was one of her greatest allies when it came to charming those around her. "I just really need a shower. And to sleep." Dean's expression didn't change, and he shot a dark look to Sam as if to say do you believe this chick? which unfortunately did nothing but bubble that familiar anger into her stomach again.

"We'll be good and ready in a minute, sweetheart," Dean drawled out and Sam snorted, knowing that his brother was doing it purposefully. He had a knack for pissing people off.

"You'll be good and ready right now, or I'm gonna punch a hole into this stupid piece of shit," Emily dropped the pose as she spoke, her hands finding her hips, unable to stop the sentence from leaving her mouth. What was it with these guys? Emily had never felt so put off or defensive by anyone in her life, she was normally calm! Quiet. Collected. Calculating. Where was this bitch coming from? Instantly she regretted the words as Dean straightened to take a step towards her, and she was positive they were about to relive the scene from earlier which made Emily quickly step to the other side of the car near where Sam stood, and Dean's face clouded even more darkly as they squared off.

"You want to repeat that darlin'?"

She had opened her mouth to retort but didn't get the chance. Not even a half second had passed when there was a bright glow and a man suddenly appeared in front of all of them. "Cas?" The glow disappeared and a smile graced Dean's mouth, replacing the frown that had been there only moments before. "Well how the hel-how the heck are you man?" He and Sam walked towards man, angel?, leaving a bewildered Emily by the car, watching the bizarre scene unfold.

The angel was beautiful, young, bright, and suddenly Sam realized why the glow around him looked so familiar, it was the same glow he saw when they'd laid eyes on the girl. Confusion crossed Sam's face and he had opened his mouth to speak, but Castiel had cut him off, his voice clipped and straight to the point. "I've come about the girl," he faced the brothers and then opened his hand to Emily, inviting her forward. "I am sorry about your father, child. Time is of the essence, Dean, Sam," he turned to each young man as he spoke, and Emily, still looking stunned, walked forward to fall in line with them, "you no doubt understand the seriousness of the situation? It was unexpected, but here we are. Bobby has contacted you, but God felt it important you hear this sooner rather than later. Like all humans, Emily still possesses the divine gift of free will, which makes this mission even more delicate. It is impetrative that Emily remain with you, in your care, for the duration of your time on earth. It was not meant to be this way, but God has decided to reward you both. Child," he turned to address Emily, and the awe grew as she studied his face, "you know what you are? You know why you are here. It is your story to tell, it is your gift to give these men. Forgive yourself for your father. You did not make his choices, you are not responsible for his death." Tears welled in her eyes at the words, no matter if she believed them or not, but she swiped them away, determined not to show anymore weakness that evening, "I see your heart. God sees your desire for revenge. You remain a free being, but you are implored to stay with these young men. They will train you, train you properly, the way your father was unable to. Then you shall have the revenge you seek."

Emily felt her stomach tighten again, the thought of being stuck with these barbarians was almost unbearable, but to argue with an angel seemed further more ridiculous so she kept her mouth shut. Sam was instead the one who spoke, "Cas, you want us to train her?" He sounded incredulous at the thought, Emily could've sworn she could hear the waft of disdain. "She lived with one of the greatest Hunter's alive, what would she learn from us?"

"She will learn. She was not trained, her father thought it unnecessary. You will take her on your hunts, you will teach her to defend herself, you will mold her, and in return, you shall be rewarded. While she is with you, you will be protected. I will say no more on this. God has spoken."

There was no time to argue, or ask questions, or even speak, as the next second the man was gone, the same burst of light that he'd arrived in effectively disappearing him from their gaze. There was a few moments of stunned silence, then both of the boys turned to Emily and started speaking at once, their words tripping over one another at an increasingly raised volume. What is he talking about? What does that mean? We'll be protected? Protected how? What? Well, come on, answer! Fucking angel never tells the whole story. She could barely keep up, so she did the only thing she could think to do in the moment and turned on her heel, walking away from them both back to the trunk of the car where her bags were. She slammed her hand on the top and the men jumped at the sound, falling silent as they stared at her. "Can I get my bags now? I'm tired. I smell. I don't have the mental capacity to fuck around with your interrogations right now. I'm not ready and I'm not talking about it. You heard him, free will and all." She managed to keep the mask of icy fury on her face, even with all the emotions rolling around in her stomach. She was a gift, a gift for them, as if she were some cheap commodity, some object to just give away. She knew what she was, she knew in her heart that she was being given protection from the creatures who'd hunted down her father just as much as she was giving them protection in return, but it didn't make her feel any better. It didn't make the anger subside.

The boys, wisely, didn't argue. Sam gave Dean a warning little stare, which Dean promptly rolled his eyes at, but he hadn't pushed it. He merely opened the trunk, slung Emily's duffle over his shoulder, and then stomped into the house. Emily grabbed her backpack and followed him, letting Sam close the trunk and bring up the rear. It seemed that the trio were all lost in their own thoughts regarding the angel's words and meaning, but none of them spoke more on it. Dean ushered them into the unassuming house, where Emily was greeted by a sight she hadn't prepared for. It was beautiful. Large, airy, open, filled with light and books. She had expected a lot of things, but this certainly wasn't one of them. Sam cleared his throat and continued to nudge her in, "come on, kid, we'll give you the tour." Kid. Emily almost snorted at the word, as if Sam wasn't just a few years older than she was. But she didn't. She obediently followed him around, listening as he showed her the kitchen and dining area, the living room where Dean had already flopped himself onto the nice long couch with a beer in hand, flipping the tv on contentedly, then Sam brought her to the library, explaining that it was where he did much of his research, and Emily just gaped at the room and all of it's musty books, low lamps, and many, many artifacts. There were a few tables and desks, perfect for the exact scene Sam was explaining, and Emily nodded in understanding. "This place has a lot of dangerous books, a lot of old spells, a lot of stuff we really don't want broken, okay? So if you need anything in here, just let me or Dean know and don't come in on your own."

Emily could see that Sam was the easier sibling, the kinder one, his eyes were gentle, and even with the size he was, he never seemed imposing the way Dean did. That would come in handy. She remained quiet as they continued the tour to the bedrooms, he pointed out where his room was and Dean's, then he took her to a room in the back corner, explaining that it was really a guest room for their friends who came to help on missions, but that it would be hers now. It had it's own bathroom, gloriously, and even had a tub. Emily gave a sigh of relief when she saw that and Sam couldn't help but chuckle at the sound. "Go ahead and unpack," he set down the duffle he'd taken from Dean when they started their tour, and leaned against the doorframe. "I'll hit the store tomorrow for supplies, so if there's anything you need, just let me know. Take your time. But, hey," he paused and gave her an easy-going grin, "when you're done with your shower, come back to the living room. We're gonna have some food, and Dean and I need to go over the rules with you."

Rules. That word made her rage, but instead of arguing, she pasted on the fake, dazzling smile she always seemed to wear nowadays and shrugged at him. "Okay, thanks Sam."

He left her then, closing her door behind him to give her privacy and it was then that Emily fully took in her surroundings. Opening her duffle, she began to pull out what she'd brought, taking quick inventory in her head. There was a nice white dresser in the room, and she was pleasantly surprised when she opened the drawers to find them not musty, but rather well maintained and clean. She put away her underwear and bras and socks, then moved onto her pajamas. She had managed to bring quite a bit of clothing, which she was grateful for in the moment, since it meant she wouldn't have to ask Sam to attempt to shop for her. She had leggings and jeans, shorts, and a plethora of assorted tee shirts and tank tops, some sweats, and a few cardigans. At the very bottom of it all, she paused, chewing on her lip in contemplation before reaching in and withdrawing a small, silver pistol. Her father's. She tested the weight of it in her hand, examining it from all angles before finally opening her underwear drawer and tucking it underneath all of the lacy scraps inside. Then she sighed, shoving the duffle bag under her bed and going to her backpack to get out her toiletries. She had travel size of most of them, so she made a note to ask Sam to grab her a bottle of shampoo and conditioner, and body wash. Hers was expensive, something she'd swiped while charming a nervous worker at Nordstrom's, but for the time being, she had a feeling she wouldn't have that much freedom. She placed her delicate perfume bottle and deodorant and makeup bag on the vanity of the sink, then unpacked her toothbrush and toothpaste, and a large, heavy oval wooden hairbrush into the small drawers under the sink. Satisfied with her work, Emily finally started the shower, pleased to see there was already a set of towels waiting for her. She shucked her shorts and panties in a heap on the floor, and paused turning to check the reflection of her ass in the mirror, but besides a small lingering spot of red on each thigh, there was virtually no evidence of the earlier spanking. Emily scowled at the thought again as she removed the rest of her clothing and stepped into the steaming water, gratefully letting it soak into her skin.

Emily took her time in the shower, scrubbing every inch of the last day's journey from her skin, unsure of even what time it was or if it was night anymore. They'd left the bar at ten, so it had to be very early in the morning, but honestly Emily hadn't bothered to look at her cell phone. No one would've called. No one knew who she was. She only had it to look up news and follow leads, and sometimes for directions when she was with her dad, but that...she pushed the thought aside as she finally got out of the hot water and turned the knob. She took her time applying her lotion and doing her skincare, then dressed in the comfiest, least revealing pajamas she had, which were a pair of simple cotton shorts and matching tee, brushed out her wet hair, and finally emerged. Truth be told, she half expected the brother's to be asleep by now, and a very large part of her hoped that they would, but of course there was no such luck as she made her way down the hall to the sound of their low voices coming from the open living area at the end. She lingered for a moment, trying to listen to what they were saying, but it was hard to make out so she finally gave up on eavesdropping and stepped into the room, clearing her throat to indicate she was there. The boys looked up, and Dean gave her a genuine smile, for the first time since they'd begun all of this, and gestured to a big, comfy looking easy chair across from himself and Sam. "Have a seat, sweetheart."

Emily did as she was told for once, making a mental note to ask him to cut back on the "sweetheart" crap since she was certainly not that and it made her feel about 10 years old, but Sam was still wearing a pretty serious expression, so she saved it. Folding her lithe body into the chair, Emily swallowed a yawn as she surveyed the two men and waited for them to start, and it didn't take much prompting for Dean to launch into his speech, which seemed a little too rehearsed for her liking. "So, we need to go over some things. Since it appears you will be here for the time being, there are a lot of things that Sam and I don't want to have to keep repeating to you." She resisted rolling her eyes, had Dean ever spoken to a woman before in his life that wasn't a child? "Sam tells me you were warned about the library. Good. There's a gym too, where we workout and train, and out back where we have a small shooting range too. You won't have access to the weapons here, we have an arsenal that we'll be training you with and that's that. But that's all small stuff. Here's what you really need to know," Dean leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees and stare straight at her. "Sam and I were raised to follow orders and do what needs to be done. We can't do our job with you getting in our way or making any stupid mistakes. We know you gotta mouth on ya, but believe you me sweetheart," Dean continued through the not so subtle glower Emily threw his way, "we will be correcting anything we see fit. I think you can guess how we deal with mistakes in this family, and right now you can consider yourself one of us. Which means mouthing off, sneaking around, lying, not following orders, and just generally pissing me off, is all gonna result in one thing. You," he pointed to her as if she were stupid and Emily clenched her fists tightly to avoid leaping forward to punch him, "over a knee, getting your cute little butt blistered."

The smug little bastards didn't even have the decency to look embarrassed by what Dean was saying, and Emily couldn't hold it in. "I'm not a child. I'm not stupid," she hissed at him, her feet coming down to meet the floor so she could match Dean's pose, only Emily's involved her hands on the arms of the chair, gripping it tightly to keep herself grounded as she spoke, "no one touches me. You don't touch me. He doesn't touch me," she jerked her head to Sam, "nobody touches me. Nobody spanks me," she spat the word as if it were dirty, which in her mind, it was, "and you can lose any notion of me just rolling over and becoming some sort of perverted sex slave on your whims."

Dean laughed, short and gruff, and even Sam smiled then, a little more than impressed with her spunk. "Oh sweetheart, we are way past that, wouldn't you say? Look, you don't like it? Tough shit. You're under our protection now and that means you follow our orders. This is how we deal with it, this is what happens, you don't want your ass handed to you? Don't mess up. Don't talk back. Lose the attitude. You've been warned and it's the only one you'll be getting, capiche?"

They stared each other down, Emily's chest heaving as if she'd just run a very intense mile, Sam still smiling beside him. She gave no indication that she would agree verbally, but Dean seemed satisfied with her lack of argument and stood up. "Good. Thank jesus. We can all go to bed." He clapped his hands and did a sarcastic little cheerleading move, picking up his beer bottle from the table beside him, and then he left the room with a short wave behind him. Sam was nicer, waiting for Emily to unfurl from her anger, offering a hand to help her up.

"Look, it won't be all that bad," he lead her out of the living room, Emily following woodenly a step behind. "Dean's trying to keep you safe. We live by a different code of Hunter than your dad did. I know it seems ridiculous and childish, but you don't have the training we did, just don't piss him off and you'll be okay." He paused at her door and let her go in past him. "Goodnight kid."

But Emily didn't answer, just slammed the door behind her and let her thoughts take over.

It was ten in the morning before Emily stirred from her slumber, blinking sleep from her eyes blurrily as she sat up and looked around in a moment of confusion to where she was. Oh yeah. A frown crossed her pretty face for a moment and she sighed, trying to shake the already darkening mood from her psyche as she slowly stretched her arms above her head, yawning deeply. She didn't know what time she'd fallen asleep last night, her mind had raced for a good hour trying to wrap her head around the predicament she was in. Not only Castiel's speech, the finality that she was stuck with the Winchester's for the time being, to be trained as a Hunter so she could get what she wanted more desperately than anything in the world, but also Dean's much less appealing and much harder to swallow tirade about rules and consequences and ugh, just thinking about him again put the scowl back to her lips. She threw her covers off and climbed out of bed, giving herself another moment to stretch and get her bearings before she stood and quickly remade her bed, not sure exactly what compulsed her to do so. She didn't plan to stay much longer, but a few more nights to get some information from the two, not to mention to locate where they stored their weapons and the keys to the Impala, and she'd be on her merry way, not another thought about this god forsaken place to be given. Emily padded into the bathroom and repeated her routine from the following night, taking a much shorter shower this time, before she twisted her hair up into a nice smooth ponytail and went to dress for the day. She didn't know what they had planned, so she stuck to simple and comfortable, donning a pair of plain black leggings and a white tee shirt. She added a light blue cashmere sweater to her ensemble, another sticky finger find from some expensive boutique in some other state long ago, then followed the scent of coffee into the kitchen where both men were already up and moving around.

"Morning kiddo," Sam greeted her with a smile and went to grab her a mug to pour her own coffee, which Emily took from him gratefully, even managing to give a smile back. "Coffee's there, Dean's attempting to make some eggs but watch for shells," he grinned again and Emily couldn't help but smile with him. Dean shot a dark look at both of them, grumbling to himself which just seemed to tickle them even more.

"I don't see either of you offering to cook," he called out, clanging a pan onto the stove. Emily sighed inwardly, giving Sam a shrug and going to face the beast in the attached room.

"Actually, I can cook," she took the pan from him, and set it down much more gently then he had. Dean was clearly startled by this news, and he stared at her with no subtly to the fact. Emily stared right back, an amused smirk on her lips, a plan formulating already. Buttering these guys up was going to do nothing but help her, and charming people had always come easy. They were on the defense because they thought they knew what she was up to, but she was determined to force their guards down. That's when she'd strike. "What?" She teased him lightly, keeping her voice level and airy. Dean was clearly uncomfortable at the shift in attitude, but he didn't argue with her as she began to prep the little bit of food he had set out, cracking a half dozen eggs into a bowl, adding salt and pepper and a little milk and cheese and some cubes of butter. She spoke while she worked, getting the sense that Dean wasn't trying to leave her alone in a kitchen full of knives. "My dad didn't care much for eating on the road all the time, and he usually tried to at least get us rooms that had little kitchenettes. I learned pretty young, then I watched a lot of Food Network on the road." It struck her then how very little her father had prepared her for this life. She went to hunts only when he was ready to kill, never did he involve her in research or fighting or training or even procuring things needed for their jobs. She could shoot a gun, which he'd only begrudgingly taught her at age 12 when they'd had a run in with a particularly nasty demon and realized that she should at least be able to protect herself. Not that she'd ever actually needed too, or even been given the opportunity.

Dean was still eyeing her suspiciously, but eventually as the enticing smell of scrambled eggs filled the small space, he relaxed, leaning against the counter and studying her quietly. She certainly was acting differently this morning, maybe a good night's sleep was all she had needed, or maybe his speech had actually gotten through to her. He wasn't entirely sold, but he'd welcome the change while it came. It didn't take long before a pan of fluffy eggs had been set on the table and the three were seated, eating in welcome silence. It was Sam who finally broke up the quiet, pushing his plate away and grinning over at Emily. "That was really good, thanks kid," Emily expected one of them to ask her to do the dishes or clean up the mess, but was surprised when Dean took the lead and started clearing their plates and the pan away. Evidently, food was the way to their hearts. "I'm going to hit the store in a few, why don't you make a list of things you need or want, include any food you may like. I'm sure you've probably guessed that we mostly survive on fast food and takeout, so if you're interested in cooking anything, just add it. And if you don't want to cook for us lugs, we don't mind either way." It was very clear that Sam was going to be the best bet for getting what she wanted, and she almost felt guilty thinking about taking advantage of his kind soul, but then again, he'd watched her get assaulted and done nothing so the feeling left quickly.

"Hey I don't mind cooking once in awhile," she leaned back thoughtfully, studying his face, noting just how long he was. His brown hair was long, his face was long, his body was long, but he was undeniably good looking, and she grinned again. Maybe he'd be more easily seduced then Dean, who she had thought for sure was going to be her easy target. She remembered everything her father had told her about these boys; Sam was the smart one, Dean was the brawny one. "I enjoy it, truthfully. It always gave me something to do." She took the notepad he offered with his neat, small handwriting gracing the top, and began to add things to it, pausing for a moment to laugh when Dean stuck his head out of the kitchen and called "Add beer! Oh and cheetos!" She finished what she needed and pushed the pad back to him, letting Sam run his eyes over it thoughtfully. "Listen, I'm not trying to embarrass you or anything, but do you need...supplies? We're gonna be holed up here for a bit," hisface turned red and Emily stared at him in confusion for a long moment until she realized what he was trying to ask her.

"Oh, nope, but thank you," she answered giving him an easy shrug. There was a lot she had no intention of sharing with the two of them, but she supposed this was the least of her worries in the long run. "I don't have periods. Never have. Doctor's said my uterus is messed up," the lie rolled off her tongue easily, she'd never been to a doctor before in her life. But she enjoyed the pink rising to his cheeks again as she talked about it. "I do need shampoo and conditioner, and maybe a loofah and some bath bombs if you're feeling generous? I have some money too," she thought to the wads of cash she had stashed away under her bed, half hoping he'd deny her offer because she needed that to last her awhile. Luckily, he did, snapping himself from his own embarrassment with a shake of his head.

"Naw kid, we'll call it even for cooking for us." He stood and shoved the list into his pocket, looking back at her for a moment with a strange expression in his eyes. "Be nice to Dean, okay? I don't want to come home to world war three, and I don't know what his plans are exactly for you guys this morning." Emily felt her chest tighten at his words, how juvenile they sounded coming from him, and she had to fight really hard to push her anger down and not give him a rude retort.

"I will, honestly, I was kind of hoping to just wander a bit. I haven't fully got the layout of this place yet. Plus, I brought a book." She arranged her face into a picture of innocence, inwardly beaming as he blushed and smiled again.

"Yeah, okay kid, just don't go in the library and that shouldn't be an issue." Emily lingered around the table for a moment, trying again to eavesdrop on Dean and Sam talking in the kitchen, but it was nothing useful. Dean added a few things to the list, Sam gave him the same warning he'd given Emily, and then she heard the door open and shut and there was quiet. It wasn't long before Dean appeared in front of her with a bag of chips in one hand and salsa in the other. "Sam said you want to read or some shit? I don't really care, there's a game on this morning and I intend to watch the entire thing in peace. Think you can handle that?"

Emily rolled her eyes at him as she stood and stretched again. "Oh, aren't you just the most typical man," she teased, forcing that lightness again. Dean was clearly not buying her bullshit as much as Sam seemed to be, and he gave her a hard look in response. "I'm just going to be in my room, reading." She shrugged and brushed past him, but in a seemingly unhuman move, he'd shifted the salsa to the arm holding the chips and snagged her arm before she was fully out of his grasp.

"I don't trust you. I don't trust this nice girl act you're putting on this morning, so listen carefully sweetheart," Emily glowered at him as he spoke and he gave her arm a tight squeeze in retaliation, "you stay in your room and I'll get you when it's time for lunch, if you so much as think about trying to sneak around me, you'll regret it. Clear?" Emily wrenched her arm from his grip and rubbed it sourly, resisting the urge to stick out her tongue like a five year old, which is about what she felt in the moment.

"Crystal," a saccharine sweet smile pasted back to her face as she turned and headed down the hall to her room, well aware that he was staring at her retreating back the whole way there. She pressed her ear to the door to listen for the sound of the TV switching on, and just as she'd suspected, a moment later the announcer's voice and the sound of a crowd permeated the empty house. She gave it awhile, today she intended to begin planning, which meant scoping out the place for the weapons. She knew Sam had taken the car, so she'd have to wait until tonight to figure out where they kept the keys when it wasn't in use, but that wasn't a problem. That was the easy part. Years with her father had taught her that everyone had their own way of doing things, they'd ran into hunters who kept weapons in plain sight, ones who'd had whole rooms dedicated to them, some who had secret passageways or trick doors concealing their arsenals. Sam was intelligent, she had a feeling that if it had just been Dean, the weapons would be somewhere like under the kitchen sink, but with Sam in the picture, she was sure they had a hiding spot. A good one. While she waited for some time to pass and Dean to get caught up in the ball game, she pulled her bag back out from under the bed and recounted the wads of cash stowed in the bottom. Near 15K, it would be enough to sustain her for at least the next few months or until she could get back to their own bunker in Seattle, see if anything still remained, if the safe under the floorboards in Jack's old bedroom was intact and untouched. She'd kicked herself for not breaking into it before she left, but there simply hadn't been time and she honestly had no clue what he even had inside and if it was worth the effort. Re-zipping her bag and shoving it back under her bed, Emily rose and went back to the door, very, very quietly opening it and listening for sounds of Dean. She could hear him yelling profanities to the television, along with the sound of the game still raging on, so she calculated she'd take no more than ten minutes on each room before doing another sweep.

Still creeping as quietly as her socked feet allowed, Emily headed to the room directly across from hers' which she believed was Sam's, although she couldn't remember for certain. She tested the handle and was relieved to find it wasn't locked, and she quietly made her way inside, keeping the door cracked so she could continue to listen for Dean. The room was simple, very simple, neat and organized and she was pretty positive that she was correct in her assessment of it being Sam's, it held a bed that was nicely made with a black and green duvet and a few pillows, he had a TV mounted in the corner that was switched off, and some sort of gaming system beneath it. On the other side of the room was a closet and a desk, where a laptop sat propped open, the screen black. There were a few books, scattered between the desk and dresser near the door, but overall it was clutter free. She had a hunch she wasn't going to find the weapons there. But still, she needed to look and be sure, so she snuck to the closet door and opened it, expecting to find exactly what she did, some shirts hanging up, a couple of nice suits, and ties, and his shoes stacked neatly in next to a plain black backpack. Emily crouched down and began to unzip it, her heart pounding as she did so, unsure of what she'd find in there if anything at all. The sight that greeted her caused her to sit backwards, crossing her legs as she pulled it to her lap, rifling through the contents. Inside were badges. A lot of badges. Police, FBI, CIA, hell, she even pulled out a Fish and Wildlife one. Each badge held a slightly different name, but the same picture of Sam, these had obviously been meticulously made, Emily had never seen anything like it. Their covers, that was what was in this bag, that was how they must have gotten around hunts, by pretending to be various people. Her father had never done anything like this, not this elaborate at least, not that she could ever remember. They generally just showed up at a place and then did the job, no pretenses, in and out as quickly as possible and on to the next. Still, this was much more clever, and probably a hell of a lot easier, so Emily found a badge with no name or picture, just a plain police badge in a non-descript black wallet, and slipped it into the waistband of her leggings to add to her own arsenal. She was zipping up the backpack and putting it back to it's place, when a sudden chill ran through her and she realized with a start that she could no longer hear Dean. Or the TV. Fuck. She straightened quickly, and whirled around to find him leaned against the doorframe of Sam's room, his nicely muscled arms crossed, a lazy, dangerous smile on his lips. Emily immediately put her hands up in defense, mind racing for an excuse as to why she was doing what she was doing, but nothing came and to both of their surprise and horror the words, "I wasn't doing anything," slipped from her mouth before she could stop them.

To his credit, Dean didn't get angry. He didn't explode on her, he didn't scream, didn't make any movements to grab her, he just stood there in the same imposing position he'd been when she found him. The smile still frozen on his face he shook his head and sighed exaggeratedly, slowly pulling his body straight which caused Emily to take a step back. She had not forgotten the other night, she had not forgotten his threats, and while it had been easy enough to be brave and push them aside when she'd embarked on this mission, it was all now rushing to her head and she did not want to stick around and find out what he was going to do. Her hands dropped to her side and she gave an uneasy laugh, her eyes still fixed straight ahead on Dean's very handsome, and very unamused face. "I was just looking around, Dean, I wasn't doing anything, I didn't...I didn't take anything," the lie must've been the last straw because he sprung into action, before she even knew what was happening he was in front of her, his hands going straight to her hips as if he was trying to steady her, but they both knew that wasn't what he was doing.

"Liar." The word breathed between them and there was the tight grasp on her arm again, his other hand swiping down to her sweater, lifting and looking for what she could only assume was a pocket. Not finding it there, he moved his hand lower to the side of her leg, and that was when she felt his fingers brush against her hipbone and it was there, there where he drew out the offending badge she had swiped. "Well, well, well. What would this be?" His grip tightened and Emily felt the color drain from her face, as he waved the wallet in front of her face and then tossed it behind him without a second glance, where it landed on Sam's bed with a nice, soft 'thud.'

"I was just curious," she started to protest, her arm was beginning to ache, and she felt light headed, and dizzy, fear coloring every angle of her body so clearly that Dean almost, almost felt sorry for the little thief in front of him. Almost.

"Oh no, sweetheart," he kept his voice low, sending another cold chill down her spine, "you're up two lies already, on top of the sneaking around, I wouldn't continue if I were you. Then again, I'm not you," his voice was taunting then, mimicking her words from last, "free will and all."

She blushed prettily, and had the decency to duck her head then, breaking the gaze they'd been holding intensely up to that moment. "Dean, please, be reasonable, I don't want-" she was stumbling over her words and it would've been so cute and endearing to him if he wasn't so goddamn pissed off right now.

"Don't want what, Emily? To face the consequences of your own actions? Did I not tell you what would happen? Were the rules somehow unclear? Because it looks to me like you were just seeing what would happen if you did do something stupid like this, maybe you wanted to test me and see if I was going to follow through?" His words were coming fast and hard, leaving no room for argument, and he glanced around Sam's room for a moment before he began to move, pulling Emily roughly along behind him, his grip not lessening at all. She had the good sense not to fight him, partly because she was terrified what would happen if she did, but partly because she was pretty sure he would break her arm if she tried to pull away. She was confused for a second when he went past her room, but that didn't last long when he swung the door to his own bedroom open. "Since it seems like you're so intent on snooping through our belongings, let me give you the grand tour of my room," he swung her in front of himself and pushed her into the room, none too gently, letting her stumble in front of him. She didn't lose her balance, but she was able to at least give a quick once over of his room, which was quite a lot like Sam's, but messier. The bed spread he had was black, his closet and desk were on the opposite side of the room, and there was a bathroom in there as well, though the door wasn't open fully. He had clothes strewn around the room, along with some random papers and receipts, some empty soda bottles, and various cords that looked like they belonged to more then one gaming system. Dean slammed the door behind them, making her jump, and he unceremoniously gripped her shoulders from behind, forcing her to the bed, where she fully expected him to force her to bend over, but instead he whirled her around and pushed down, making her sit. She stared up at him with wide eyes, her heart still pounding in her throat as she watched him turn from her and go to the desk, kicking a few items out of the way as he did so. He grabbed the chair from it and brought it to sit in the middle of the room, just a few feet from where she sat, where he also promptly took a seat, his thighs spread slightly, his feet planted firmly on the floor as he finally returned his attention to her. "Well sweetheart, here it is, in all it's glory, anything in here interesting to you? I mean, besides what's about to happen to you, anyway," he let out a short, harsh laugh which made her flinch. "So let's see here, three broken rules, three broken rules," he seemed to almost be talking to himself, but they both knew it was really for her benefit, to ground her and remind her, to break her. "What are we ever gonna do with you? You know it's kind of funny, Sam and I were just talking about this, and you know what he said? He told me he hoped you'd break the library rule first, so that he would be the one to spank you for your first real, proper whooping." The library. A lightbulb went off in Emily's head then, breaking through the fear of Dean in that moment as she realized that had to be where they were storing the weapons. The only place they didn't want her to go. Of course it had to be! But she was snapped from her thoughts by Dean's voice barreling on, getting louder and more frustrated as he spoke, "He seems to think I'm gonna be way more harsh then he believes himself to be, he tried to tell me, "oh dean, oh dean,"" Dean made a face which Emily deduced was supposed to be an imitation of his younger brother, "you're gonna be too hard on her, she doesn't know what she's in for, she's not like us, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah," he spat the last word and leaned forward sharply, ignoring Emily's small squeak of terror. "Well sweetheart, I'd suppose he was right. And I'm gonna make sure you remember that the next time you open your mouth and even think about lying to me again."

He sat back at that moment, and with no further bravado, motioned for her to stand. Emily did, her legs shaking, her hands balled tightly at her sides, eyes darting to the door as if to measure whether or not she made it, but Dean clucked his tongue disapprovingly, following her train of thought before she could act on it, "Oh no, no, no little girl," she pulled a face at the name, "I wouldn't even think about it. Cause you already got one helluva spanking coming, and you wouldn't want me to have to chase you down and add in, oh I don't know, a switching to it?" Her eyes immediately snapped back to his face at the threat and she switched tactics, staying where she was.

"I'm not a little girl, Dean. I'm twenty one years old, I'm practically the same age as Sam, I'm not a child, and you're not my father," her fists balled a little tighter at her sides, her face beginning to blush a deep shade of pink. "You can't just manhandle me everytime you're pissed off! I don't want a spanking, I'm too fucking old-"

Dean moved at that moment, rising from the chair and making the short trip to grab her wrist in his calloused hand, dragging her back to the chair. He was seated and had her swung to his right side before she could even make a noise, no, that came a moment later when he unceremoniously dragged her across his spread thighs so she was dangling helplessly over his knees, her ass positioned perfectly on his right knee, her upper abdomen across his left, and she flailed, reaching forward for the floor that she couldn't quite reach, so one hand caught on the calf of his jeans and the other on the lower rung of the chair. Her feet didn't quite reach the floor either, so she crossed her ankles, attempting to buck herself up or down, or anyway she could away from him. Dean's left arm encircled her waist though, effectively pinning her in place as she squirmed, and he landed the first hefty spank deftly across her upturned cheeks. She squealed in righteous indignation, but Dean continued on, beginning the familiar pattern of striking while he spoke, "First off, little girl," he sneered, not slowing at all, "I can and will do whatever the fuck I want because I am in charge here. You were warned, very thoroughly I might add, already. You chose to break the rules. I didn't make you." He had found his rhythm, his hand beating a slightly muffled tattoo back and forth over her butt, rising and lowering each time to cover every bit of it. "If you're not too old to break the rules, you ain't too old to take the spanking you earned."

Below him, Emily gritted her teeth, determined not to make anymore noise even as the pain began to steadily rise in her nether regions, her toes curled in her socks, ankles still crossed as she wiggled and squirmed and pounded at his leg to force him to let go. Of course, that only seemed to anger him further, and he moved to her thighs, where he finally elicited the first squeaks of distress from her, "knock it off, Emily!" He peppered her thighs with matching spanks, occasionally raising his hand to catch the underside of her cheeks, where her thighs met her ass, which made her struggle even harder against him.

"No! No! No! Stop it! Ow, stop it Dean! You're! Hurting! Me!" She managed to get a grip on the fleshy part of his calf and she pinched as hard as she could, eliciting a sharp gasp from the man above her. "Let me UP!"

Dean stopped the spanking suddenly, and Emily breathed a sigh of relief, thinking it was over. That wasn't so bad, thank Jesus- but Dean wasn't letting her up, instead she felt the arm that had her pinned lift slightly and his hand moved to her back, pushing her sweater up far enough that she felt air on her back before he moved his fingers into the waistband of her leggings and panties and he deftly swooped them down to her knees. The fight immediately returned to the her and she let out the most enraged scream he'd ever heard in his life, one that almost made him drop her right from where she was, but instead he leaned down and fisted his hand into her hair, yanking her head up and forcing her back to arch, the scream dying in her throat as he did. "SHUT. UP."

He let her go and her head dropped down, she didn't scream any longer, but she was so beyond humiliated that her pride wouldn't allow her to go without a fight, so she reached her hand back to try to cover her aching behind. Dean caught her wrist before she even made it there, pinning it straight to her lower back, the position made her shoulder scream in protest, but it was soon forgotten as the spanking resumed onto her now bared skin. It hurt so. much. worse. Emily couldn't think, all she felt was a million bees stinging her over and over again, Dean had picked the pace up, there was no pause between the blows, and her body had basically frozen in position, too shocked at the pain to even fight. Dean realized it, he only spanked like that for a minute longer before he rested his hand onto her blazing skin and waited for her body to relax. She wasn't making noise, but she'd bit her lip hard enough to draw blood and she shakily brought her free hand up to wipe it away. Sensing the vulnerability he had with her now, Dean moved his hand to gently push her legs down, almost forcing her to a kneel, except he deftly pulled her back up so that her ass now hung dead center of his left thigh. He let go of her hand, knowing the change in equilibrium was going to cause her to flail, and it did, she threw both hands to the floor to catch herself, even though Dean had a tight enough hold on her that she wasn't going anywhere. He moved his right leg to trap her legs beneath himself, and readjusted his grip on her waist. There. He had her right where he needed her to be. She wasn't crying yet, and he was almost impressed, especially after the show she'd given yesterday. "Now, sweetheart," he cooed to her softly, which made her kick as best as she could angrily. "That was for the lack of cooperation. Now we can move onto the lying."

Now? Now they could move on? Emily's mind raced and she gave a pitiful mewl like an injured kitten, "Dean please, I'm sorry, I've had enough," she knew the arguing changed nothing. She could sense the determination in him, but she couldn't just give in. She didn't think she could take another hit either. Dean just chuckled in response, smoothing his hand over her perfect little ass again, admiring his handiwork for a moment. Her ass was a nice shade of pink, but he could do better.

"Nope, you haven't," his hand raised again and she flinched, bracing herself for the blow that came shortly after. "You haven't come close. See, here's the thing about me, sweetheart," he resumed a slow, easy pattern, his hand rising and falling much more purposefully compared to the flurry of angry spanking he'd laid on her just moments before. Only this was worse, the position made her even more vulnerable, her thighs and sit spots were exposed fully to him now, and he made use of it. "I can see right through your little act. I know you're no innocent princess like you were pretending to be this morning, I see the brat in you. If you think you're going to waltz in here and lie to my face, steal from right under my nose, you got another thing coming. I can do this all day, sweetheart, but I bet you can't. Maybe if your daddy had taken a belt to you a day in your life, you'd know better, but now it's my job to pick up the slack. So, little girl, this spanking? This is for your lies, and next time you think about staring me in the eye and telling me some cute little story, I'll not only spank you twice what you're getting now, but I'll also make you eat soap. Do. You. Understand. Me?" The lazy spanking had changed to a much harder round of smacks at the last sentence, and tears finally welled up in Emily's eyes. She was miserable, no escaping the lecture, no escaping the spanking, no escaping Dean. Why had she done it? She should've waited until they were both gone, she should've planned it better. She shouldn't...she shouldn't have done it all.

"I'm sorry," her voice was small, and she sniffled, bringing her hands to her face to bury her shame in them.

"Oh, I don't doubt you're sorry you got caught, princess," Dean was unmoved, the spanking had resumed harder and more pointed now then before, eliciting small squeaks and squeals now, her skin a uniform red, with random splotches of crimson where he'd spanked harder. "But are you sorry you did it? No. What was your plan anyway? What did you think you were going to do with that badge?" He paused the spanking again so he could listen to her response, but he didn't get one. Just muffled tears as her hands stayed firmly over her face. "Uh, uh, uh," he tsked, leaning down to grab the small wrist of her closest hand and force it away from her face, and back to the uncomfortable position on her lower back. "I asked a question, I want an answer."

"I don't know," Emily wailed miserably, trying to kick her legs again knowing fully well they were pinned just as tightly as they'd been since this blasted spanking had started. "I wasn't thinking, I just did it."

"That's right," Dean sighed and picked the spanking back up, "you weren't thinking. You wanted it just to have it." He stopped speaking then, allowing the spanking to do the talking for him for the next few minutes, until her tears and squeaks had turned into ugly sobs and begging for forgivingness. Her ass more closely resembled a tomato now, cherry red, and Dean whistled lowly. He wondered if that's what they'd looked like when their dad had whipped their asses himself, but it wasn't quite over yet. "That was for the lying." He released her wrist and legs then, patting her thigh gently to coax her to move, so he could stand and help her up too. He had to clench his jaw tightly to stop himself from letting her fall into his arms as her delicate little tear stained face came into his view, he could see the hurt and embarrassment in her face, but this was all on her. She'd brought it on herself, she'd done the lying, she'd done the sneaking. Feeling better about what he was about to do, he moved his hand to grip her arm again and he lead her to the bed, grabbing one his pillows and moving it to rest on the edge of the mattress. Ignoring her confused protests, he gently lowered her over the pillow, and his heart almost broke when she let out a panicked wail, seeming to realize that her spanking wasn't over. He waited a moment for her to calm down before he straightened and squared his shoulders, unbuckling his belt as he spoke to her. "This will be for the sneaking around. I'm sorry I have to do this Emily, and I really hope I don't have to do it again."

He meant the words as he watched her small body shake, her sweater had fallen over the middle of her cheeks, the stark contrast of color between the blue of the material and the red of her ass was almost comical. He rubbed his hand on her back gently, both to calm her and draw the fabric back up, and he sighed again. "You're going to get ten. That's it. I'll keep count this time, and then it's over and it's forgiven." She flinched sharply, and he could see she was struggling not to push herself off the bed and put up a fight, and he really didn't want to add any more. He didn't think she could take it if he did. So without further ado, he doubled the belt over and swung it backwards before bringing it sharply across the center of her cheeks. Her foot swung up immediately in response and she arched her back with a yelp, trying to straighten her body from the line of fire that had just lit across her cheek. But Dean didn't allow it, he firmly placed his hand between her shoulder blades and pressed her back down. Then he laid stripe number two beneath the first, no longer allowing any pause between blows, wanting to get it over as quickly as possible. By the seventh stripe, she had given up and was sobbing heart wrenchingly into his bed spread, her small hands fisted into his blankets as she tried desperately to stay still. He gave the last three blows right to her thighs and sit spots, eliciting the loudest sobs thus far, and then he tossed the belt down, exhausted from the drama of it all.

He didn't feel bad, he told himself firmly. Emily needed that. She deserved it. The act she put on was cute and all, but it had to end. He was still telling himself that as the small form below him slowly straightened herself out, her face was red and streaked with tears and snot, which she swiped angrily at. She'd kicked off her leggings and thong at some point during the spanking, but she didn't seem to care about that much at all as she brought her hands back to her face and cried bitterly into her hands. That had been the single most painful, humiliating experience she'd ever had, and she hated herself for appearing this weak, she hated him for doing it to her, she hated this stupid bunker, and the stupid rules, and above all, she hated that she had been stupid enough to get caught. It hadn't been worth it, not at all, but it was too late to take it back, so she was just left with her injured pride and bruised ass. Dean caught both her wrists gently in his hands and drew them from her face, looking down at the devastated woman with what almost looked like pride. He drew her into a hug, and Emily didn't pull away, she didn't fight, it felt...right. She was angry as all get out and even more than sore, but she had deserved it and they both knew it. The hug lasted until she had stained through his shirt with her tears and he'd done nothing but stand there, rubbing her back in silence. When she pulled away, she swiped the back of her hands across her face and sniffled again. "I'm sorry," she told Dean softly, pink coloring her cheeks again.

"It's done, darling," he shrugged and gave her a grin, before delicately leaning down to pick up her leggings and thong and handing them to her without another word. "Why don't you go rest, I'll wake you up for dinner."

She didn't argue, didn't bother to put her clothing back on, she was too sore and stiff to deal with that mess, and once she'd made it safely back to her room, she slipped wordlessly into bed and cried until she'd fallen asleep.

Chapter 3: Wear Me Like A Locket

A week had passed since what Emily was now calling "the incident" and things had been rocky, to say the least. Sam had bought her a small tv, which he installed on top of her dresser, and she a good amount of her time holed up in her room, hiding from the brother's and wallowing in self pity and rage. Sam had tried his best to make peace with her, he'd been angry at Dean for the way that he'd handled the whole situation and Emily couldn't help but feel smug when she'd heard the fight they'd had over it, but he also told Emily later that evening that, in no uncertain terms, he would've done the same to her in the moment. Which meant Sam was also on her shit list. Emily truthfully didn't know what to feel about anything. She was emotionally wounded more then she was physically hurt, although sitting for first couple days following the spanking had been a challenge, she was angry at them for the way she was being treated, she was mad at herself for making stupid mistakes when she didn't know what she was dealing with, and more then anything else she was embarrassed. She didn't want to look Dean in the eye, and so she hadn't. She did her very best to avoid him, and it had worked for awhile. He didn't seem to care to see her either, which she didn't want to admit had kind of hurt her feelings, but he also wasn't spanking her anymore so she took what she could get. After a few days of her only coming out of her room only for meals, Sam had decided to step in again. He was determined to be nice to her and from there he'd taken every opportunity he could to take her around the bunker and show her stuff he hadn't before. Since she'd been interested in the badges, he'd actually brought the backpack of them into her room that afternoon and dumped it out so he could tell her stories about where they used them and what were the most effective covers. She'd blanched heavily at the sight of the police one she'd attempted to steal, but Sam had made a big joke out of it and pretty soon she relaxed along with him, laughing at their antics and the dumb things they'd done with some of them. He had just been telling her about the time they'd posed as FBI agents, not knowing that they were talking to actual FBI agents, when Dean had appeared at the door, looking down at them sprawled out on the floor with the badges around them. There was a knowing little smirk on his lips as he quirked an eyebrow to Emily teasingly, and she blushed and looked away angrily, letting Sam do the talking.

"What's up bro?" Sam stood, dusting off his jeans and then bending to start scooping the badges back into his bag. Emily stayed silent, moving to sit on her bed and pointedly ignore the older brother. "I was just telling Emily about that time in Witchita with the FBI agents," Dean laughed, the sound echoing through her room as he recounted it with Sam quickly, adding in his own details and pretty soon, they'd sucked Emily back in and she forgot her anger for a second as she watched them laughing and joking with each other, just like best friends would. Like family would.

There was a pregnant pause as Emily had stopped laughing and Dean seemed to recognize the shift, so he spoke quickly, putting his hands into the pockets of his jeans as he leaned on the doorframe again. "Listen, we got some food that's gonna go bad if we don't use it soon, and I was thinking maybe you could cook tonight?" His grin was hopeful now and even Sam turned to her giving her what she could only assume was his version of puppy dog eyes. They'd done takeout almost the whole week since the incident neither brother wanting to upset the delicate balance and push the girl any further then needed. But the appeal of a homecooked meal seemed to change the whole mood in the house, and Emily sighed, recognizing this as a peace offering from Dean.

"Yeah, okay," she agreed, sliding off the bed and giving Sam a playful jostle in the ribs, "if Frankenstein here promises to quit looking at me like that." Dean let out a full belly laugh at the insult, clapping Sam on the back as he feigned hurt.

"Frankenstein, gold, pure gold," he was still laughing as he left the room, and Sam turned to Emily, slinging the backpack over his shoulder.

"I'm gonna get a round of Zelda in before dinner, just holler if you need anything," he smiled at her and ruffled her hair affectionately, which made Emily stick her tongue out at him playfully. It felt so good to let down her defenses, to laugh and joke around with someone who wasn't trying to get into her pants.

"I'm pretty sure you'd be more of a hinderance then a help," she teased and she left the room with him, heading to the kitchen as Sam headed back to his room. She paused at the living room, where Dean was sprawled on the couch, his feet up on the coffee table and a familiar bottle of beer balanced on his stomach while he flipped through channels. He saw Emily and grinned again, giving a fake salute but not saying a word, and she shook her head in response, leaving him to go see what needed to be used up in the kitchen that evening. There was a package of ground beef that's use by date was two days from now, so she pulled that out, and then looked at the sad looking produce strewn about the bottom shelf. That was probably what Dean had been talking about, so she pulled it out too, knowing exactly what she could make. She removed a few slices of bacon from the package they'd been using for breakfast, and a bottle of ketchup, and got to work.

"Mmmmm, meatloaf," Dean inhaled deeply at the scent of the meal, practically drooling when Emily had carefully carried it out and set it in front of the boys. "Sammy, do you remember the last time we had meatloaf? God, I can't. Hot damn." He rubbed his hands together and happily began dishing it up, along with the salad Emily had used the rest of the produce for. While he dished, Emily opened a nice bottle of red wine and poured them all a glass, for the first time in a week, actually happy to be sitting with them and sharing a meal. She'd been eating takeout in her room for the better part of the time she'd been there, so the change was nice.

They all dug in, Emily not bothering to hide how pleased she was as the boys complimented everything about the meal she'd prepared, Dean was eating like he'd never had a home cooked meal in his life, and Sam was moaning with almost every bite, which made them both laugh. She relaxed again, more quiet then she'd normally be, still unsure of her place with the brother's. Luckily, they filled most of the silence, teasing each other, talking about their dad and how bad his cooking had been when he'd been around, and she was able to sit back and just take it all in. She propped one slim leg up on the chair and held her wine glass between her fingers, sipping it contentedly as the meal drew closed. Dean wiped his mouth with his napkin and then tossed it on his plate and sat back, patting his stomach. "Well if that wasn't just the best goddamn meal we've had in ages," he made her blush and smiled at the sight of it. "So listen kid," Emily felt the mood shift slightly and she took a long drink of her wine before setting the glass down. "Sam and I got a job, it's in the next town over, nothing too big but we're gonna check it out and see if we can help."

Oh, well that was fine. Emily relaxed again, keeping her big blue eyes fixed on Dean's face, wondering why they were being so serious about something that sounded as small as this.

"Sammy and I have been talking about what to do about it, about jobs, I mean," he went on, glancing to Sam for backup. Sam nodded and Emily shifted her gaze.

"Well we, uh, we think you should stay here while we go," he said quietly, his kind face showing a hint of worry as if she were going to have some epic tantrum over it. And she just raised an eyebrow at him in slight disdain, did he know who she was at all? "It's just, you haven't had any training yet. We don't know exactly what we'll up against and we don't want you to get hurt."

The boys were startled when Emily let out a snort at the words, and Sam's brow furrowed, looking back to Dean wordlessly. "Oh, Sam," Emily sighed, she picked up her plate and Dean's along with it, carrying it to the sink. "I am perfectly fine staying here. I'm perfectly fine going with you. I am perfectly fine either way." Her voice was light, but the edge of danger lurked beneath it, threatening to surface. They thought she would get hurt? That wasn't how it worked. She returned to get Sam's plate, pausing between the both of them before she picked it up. She could see that Dean was very, very confused by this scene, he was staring hard at Sam like they were having some sort of wordless conversation between the two of them and she bent to stick her head between the two. "I just want to remind you both that I'm not a baby, I've spent twenty years going on hunts with my dad, and here I am, still alive. If you don't want me to go, then don't take me."

She straightened and took the plate to the sink to join the others, then sat back down with her wine and surveyed them coldly. They were still staring too, obviously thinking that she was going to put up some sort of big fight, But Emily wasn't stupid, she knew the opportunity was presenting itself to do some serious reconnaissance while they were gone, and of course she was going to jump at it. It really didn't matter to her what they decided, she could get something out of either option. "That's it? You guys mind if I use the gym before bed?" Sam seemed to be the only one capable of responding and he gave her a shrug and gestured for her to help herself.

"She's up to something," Dean said lowly, the moment that Emily had disappeared from their sight. "I don't know what it is, Sammy, but she's up to something. I don't trust her. Either way I don't trust her. Are we making the right decision? What if she takes off on us? I don't get it."

"She won't take off," Sam said confidently, pushing his chair back to stand, letting Dean follow. "We'll have the car, and she has no idea where we are. What's she gonna do? She has no family that we know of, and have you seen her try to contact anyone since she's been here? She has a phone, I saw it when I was putting up her TV, I looked through it while she was in the bathroom, and she has literally no contacts but Jack in it. It was virtually unused. It was...it was kind of weird," Emily didn't seem like the type to not have any friends, or at least acquaintances she could turn to in a pinch, but they didn't know her well. She was practically still a stranger herself. Still, Sam had insisted she program his number into her phone so she could call him anytime she needed. "I don't know Dean, I feel like this is the better option. We need to start training her, we cut her a lot of slack this week, but we're gonna keep finding ourselves in this position, trying to choose jobs or her. And what happens when we need to go across state? I mean, if you really feel strongly about it, we can bring her with and have her stay in the car or at the hotel or something?"

"Sammy, you're a genius!" Dean stood then too, clapping him on the back. "Why didn't we come up with that sooner? We'll just make her stay at the hotel. Then she can't go sneaking around like I know she's gonna do the second our backs are turned, but she won't be necessarily on the hunt with us either. It's...what's that stupid phrase dad used to say? Kismet!"

"Kismet," Sam repeated, sighing and running a hand through his hair. "Dean, you know she's gonna flip out at you for this. Imagine how you'd feel if you were told you had to stay locked in a motel while I went out and hunted, I think this is gonna be a mistake."

"Naw," Dean said confidently, clapping Sam on the back again before he headed in to clean up the dishes. "We know how to deal with it if there's resistance. I guarantee you just mention the word "belt" around her and she'll straighten up quicker then I can snap my fingers." He grinned at his brother sardonically, and Sam sighed again, muttering something that sounded a lot like it's your funeral under his breath as he retreated back to his room.

It turned out, Sam had been right. If he'd been expecting Emily to be as easygoing and helpful as she had seemed to be at dinner, Dean had been in for a very, very rude awakening. As he'd guessed, he wasn't wrong to be untrusting of the little vixen, when he'd knocked on her door later that night to tell her the new plan, Emily had been anything but accommodating. Sam could hear them screaming at each other all the way through the headset of his video game, there had been a lot of swearing and the sound of something being thrown and crashing to the floor, then the sound of hard smacking on bare flesh, and Sam had turned the volume back up on his game, shaking his head with a knowing sigh.

And that's where they still were the next morning, Emily sitting sullenly in the backseat of the Impala on a sore ass, her phone on her lap with head phones plugged in and music blaring through them. She had no intention of speaking to either brother, apparently she'd decided it was most definitely both of their faults that her plans had been ruined, and that was that. She didn't move the entire hour long drive to the little town, staring out the window with the same sullen look she'd come into it with. Dean looked back occasionally, muttering a bitter, "spoiled fucking brat," every once in awhile to punctuate his frustration, while Sam, wisely, chose to stay quiet and continued to research from the book in his lap until they pulled into a rundown little motel and Dean put the Impala in park. He unbuckled and got out, and Sam did the same, tucking his wallet into his pocket to help Dean with the ruse they'd come up with this time in order to get a discounted room. Dean reached over the headrest to yank a headphone out of Emily's ear and bark, "stay here, we'll get a room and come back and get you in a minute. Don't move a muscle." She had given him a sarcastic smile and raised her hand like she was about to wave at him, before flipping him off and putting the earbud back into her ear. Dean growled and his fists clenched instinctively, but he didn't cause a scene there, just slammed the door to the car and headed back in with Sam.

Emily was pissed, beyond pissed, she'd spent the whole hour plotting what she was going to do while the brother's were gone the night before, and now she was going to be stuck like an annoying little sister in one of these shoddy motel rooms with nothing to do but pout. Her plans for the library? Gone. Her plans for leaving the bunker to get a layout of where they were? Gone. Ugh, this fucking sucked. She turned the music off her phone and yanked her buds out, wrapping them up neatly and placing them on the seat next to her, watching Dean and Sam working whatever charm they thought they had on the unsuspecting motel clerk inside. She rolled her eyes and opened the door to the Impala, stepping out and stretching out her long legs, the sting in her butt from Dean's short hand spanking the night before finally beginning to dissipate, yawning lazily, before she took a look around. The town looked like most towns around here, dry and dusty, a few little stores peppering the street they were on, some residential places a few streets down. And bingo! A coffee shop sat on the corner directly across from where she was standing and she grinned. Coffee, yes please. She glanced back to see where the guys were at, and she could see they were still occupied, Dean was leaning over the desk and Sam was fishing in his pocket for something. Neither had glanced at her once. Well, grabbing a quick cup of coffee wasn't going to hurt anything, and without a second thought, she began the short walk across the street. The sign on the door read Cafe Nautical and it was decorated with the some cute touches as the sign suggested, sea glass, and little ships in bottles, and hearty sea rope. Adorable. Emily stepped inside and breathed in deeply, feeling her mood lighten considerably. There was a young, cute girl behind the counter who looked up as Emily stepped in and she seemed clearly taken back to see a face she didn't recognize, much less one that looked like Emily's, but Emily just gave her a dazzling smile and sauntered to the counter, looking up at the menu written in old timey English script above the girl's head.

"Mmmm, it all looks so good!" She made easy conversation with the teen, asking for recommendations, and chatting with her about "hot spots" in the town. The girl was clearly taken with Emily, she chattered on without pause as she made her a simple lavender and honey latte, telling her about where was good to eat, and then, bingo!, spilling about some local town gossip that told Emily exactly why the boys had taken this case. It seemed that some mysterious deaths had been cropping up near a local food bank, unexplained and very out of character for the tight knit community, and Emily listened in feigned rapt attention, pretending to be absolutely shocked by that news. "Well thank you so much," she gushed to the girl, taking the latte and a fresh blueberry muffin encased in a crisp white bag, "what do I owe you?" But the girl just blushed and stammered out that it was on the house, and Emily gave her another bright smile and in her most sincere voice returned "well aren't you just the sweetest thing, thanks girl," and flounced right out of the coffee house and back to the corner to cross the street. As the motel came back into view, Emily paused suddenly, taking in the scene ahead of her. The boys were outside of the Impala, Sam was on his cellphone and Dean was pacing back and forth, his hands shoved deep in the pockets of his leather jacket, a noted scowl across his face. It was Sam that caught sight of her first as she resumed the slow walk forward, still holding her coffee in one hand and the bag in the other, having the decency to at least look sheepish when she was close enough to hear Sam saying into the phone, "Damnit Bobby, never mind, here she is now...yeah, uh huh...yeah, you're absolutely right about that." He ended the call with a dark look in her direction, moving around to get to her before Dean could, though he was definitely not far behind.

"Emily, what the fuck?" His jaw was clenched tightly, his voice low and quiet so they wouldn't draw attention to them. He reached out to grab the bag from her hand, then used his other to grip her upper arm, pulling her towards them. Emily was taken back by the anger in his voice, he was always the calm one, and she suddenly lost the easy going bravado she'd put on earlier, her voice shakey as she answered him. "I was just going to grab a coffee, Sam..."

"Didn't we tell you to stay in the car? We thought you took off! Or something took you! Fuck Emily, you didn't even have your phone on you!" He was pulling her towards the motel again, and Dean fell into step beside them, not saying a word. That was almost as scary as angry Sam, but at the moment, Emily was just relieved that they weren't causing a scene in the parking lot. Besides, it was a motel room. What were they gonna do? The walls would be paper thin, and it wasn't like there was a lot of privacy, and feeling her confidence return somewhat, she took a sip of her latte and pulled her arm out of Sam's grasp as they got to the room and he fumbled to unlock the door, still lecturing her under his breath. She looked around again, taking long draws of the delicious hot beverage, purposely not looking at Dean, who she could feel was burning his glare into the side of her head.

"Relax," she told the pair as the door finally opened and they made it inside. "You guys were taking forever, I needed to pee, so I saw the coffee shop and walked over," the lie rolled easily from her tongue, it was second nature to make stories up on the spot, "listen, the girl working told me all about the mysterious stuff going on around here, and I think I can help-"

She was cut off sharply when Dean leaned over and plucked the coffee out of her hand, taking a long swig of it himself to her utter surprise. "Hey!" He ignored her, and sauntered over to the cheap set of dresser drawers, setting it on top before sprawling his long body out on the bed closest to the window and tucking his hands behind his head. Emily was left feeling very confused by the whole scene, she didn't know what she had expected when they got inside but it certainly wasn't...this. He had pulled out his phone at that point, utterly ignoring her, and Emily turned to ask Sam what was going on, and that's when she realized. They'd obviously talked about what was going to happen when they found her, and if Emily had any ideas about not being punished inside the motel room, they were thrown out the window as she watched in horror while Sam removed his jacket and began to roll up the sleeve on his flannel purposefully.

"Sam!"

"Sam!" Emily repeated the words in a panic, taking a step backwards away from him, which resulted in the back of her knee hitting Dean's bed and making her sit. Dean bristled and let out an obviously fake annoyed "hey!" which Emily turned to pull a face at and he just grinned back, raising his eyebrows suggestively. Sam had finished his task, both sleeves were firmly resting above his very long, and very toned forearms, and Emily could feel tears begin to prickle behind her eyelids already. She swiped at them angrily and stood to face the taller brother, her back going towards the door of their suffocatingly small room. "No! No! Don't touch me!" She hissed at Sam, bringing a finger up to point at him. From behind his phone, Dean gave a snort of derision, not even bothering to lower it as he muttered, "oh sweetheart, I think he's gonna be doing a lot more then touching you."

Emily sent a glare his way and spat out bitterly, "Get OUT Dean! Why are you even here? Get OUT!" She couldn't believe this was happening again. It hadn't even been two weeks with the brother's and she felt like all she did was spend time trying not to get spanked. Spanked. Like a fucking toddler which she most certainly was not, and this was the most bizarre and surreal experience she'd ever had. What was it with these guys? She flung her hand back up to stop Sam from coming closer to her, her back now firmly pressed against the door of the room. "I will scream, Sam! Don't even think about it, I will fucking scream! You are not doing this, I am a grown woman, I am allowed to do what I want and go where I want, I don't need your permission, get away from me!"

But Sam didn't stop, in fact, he just sighed at her outburst, his eyes sad. "I don't want to do this either Emily, trust me," he said gently, he was always so gentle, and Dean snorted again from the bed which just threw Emily's anger into overdrive, and as she opened her mouth to start yelling at him, Sam reached forward and caught her wrist in his hand, tugging her forward, still so mellow, and so kind. "Stop," he ordered, his voice was still at the same soft level but Emily could see his own frustration beginning to rise and it just made her fight him harder. This was Sam, gentle giant Sam, quiet, unassuming Sam, Sam who could be easily manipulated, he was not going to do this, not if she had any say in it, which she was starting to feel she very much did not. "Come on, you know you shouldn't have done that, you made this choice and now you've got to deal with the consequences. Did you really think you were helping us, Em?" The affectionate nickname made the tears spring up again, god this was humiliating! "We were scared out of our minds, we don't know what's out there right now, and you could've been hurt."

She didn't care, she wasn't going down without a fight, regardless of how much the words stung her heart. He was right, of course he was, but it didn't mean he had to spank her. "No!" She repeated, bitterly pulling back again. "Not you Sam, please, not you."

Dean spoke then, and Emily looked to him pleadingly, "Trust me, you don't want me dealing with you right now." His voice was laced with unleashed rage and she flinched at the implications of it all. And without any further ado, stuck in his own earbuds and laid back down as if this was just a normal, everyday scene for the trio. Which it felt like it was becoming.

Sam had managed to get her over to the other bed by that time, and Emily continued to struggle, though her heart wasn't in it as much as it had been a second ago. She could see she wasn't going to win this battle, so she switched tactics, the anger melting from her face so quickly that Sam almost thought he'd been imagining it. Now it was just tears and remorse, and pleading with him pitifully. Sam felt his heart tighten but he refused to allow her to manipulate him. That's what she was doing, and he felt himself frown in response. "Stop the theatrics, Emily!" His voice hardened and she felt her defenses crumble, her final plea dying in her throat, as he firmly pulled her beside him and guided her across his legs, which were at a perfect 90 degree angle on the short bed. She had nowhere to go, her feet didn't reach, her hands didn't reach, she felt so ashamed and so, so, so small in that moment. She wanted to curl into a ball and just die. Luckily, Sam didn't do much at first, she was wearing a pair of thin black leggings which he left in place, and his hand was just resting on her bottom, it was so large that it almost covered the entire surface of it, something that did not escape her notice, and she shuddered. She expected Sam to be a lecturer, the way Dean was, but he didn't say much at all beyond, "You know why you're here, right?"

"Yes," her pitiful little voice reached his ears and he sighed again, patting her butt gently.

"Let's try, yes sir when you're in this position, okay?"

The boys had been raised in Texas, their manners were Texan, foreign to someone like Emily who'd spent a good amount of her time on the west coast. Her face blushed beet red and she gave a small kick of annoyance, whining out a singular "Sammmm," in response. It was that whine which seemed to set him off, because without any warning at all, his hand had left her ass and had begun to crack down hard.

"Did I stutter?" He'd paused after a good minute of hard, brutal spanks, which had left Emily breathless and frozen across his knee. She realized then that Sam was not to be messed with, if she had thought the gentle boy was going to deliver a gentle spanking, she'd been dead wrong. She sniffled quietly for a moment before forcing the words from her mouth that he seemed intent on hearing,

"Y-yessir," they felt wrong coming from her mouth, dirty somehow. She hated it. She hated them. Her hand reached out to find his knee, and she pushed up slightly, hating that she had nowhere to go. At the words, Sam smiled and rested his hand on her butt again for a moment, letting her get bearings before he began again.

"Good girl," the condescending phrase left his mouth and immediately he felt her body tense at the words so before she could spit out what he was sure was going to be a string of stinging profanities, he began to spank again, falling into his own pattern without much ado. Truth was, he didn't have much experience in the area of disciplining beautiful adult women, he hadn't ever really been the spanking type, not beyond a few times in the bedroom or once or twice in the heat of the moment with Jess, but he was certainly not a stranger to receiving them and he was confident he knew what to look for and when to stop. There was no other sound in the room except his hand thudding across her legging clad butt, and he found that he enjoyed watching how it bounced and sprang right back with each blow. He was careful to measure his strength, but his hand was so large that it really didn't make a difference to Emily, each smack felt like a sledgehammer in her mind.

He kept up the spanking until he started to hear her sniffle and her little kicks began to get a bit more frantic, and he paused again. Emily, certain it was over, brought her other hand to his leg to try to push herself off. But Sam surprised her by swiftly tugging her leggings down, leaving her pink little ass bared to him, and she gasped, red coloring her face immediately as she attempted to reach back, same as she did with Dean. It didn't matter how many times she was in this position, she didn't think she'd ever get to used to it. "No! No Sam, please! I don't want you-" she was stammering over her words and her squirming was getting more wild, Dean seeing her ass was one thing, he was a Neanderthal, but Sam? For some reason Sam seeing her this way felt even more obscene than anything she'd experienced before. Unmoved by her plea's and her tears, he gently pressed her hips back down, using his strength to draw her body closer to him and finished pulling her leggings down to her knees. She had a tiny little thong on, barely visible, it certainly wasn't going to offer any protection, so he gave her the dignity of leaving it in place as he settled her back in again. "Look Emily, neither of us want to be here. I don't want to be doing this. You don't want this to be done," his voice was level and reasonable, such a stark contrast against the absurdity of the whole situation. "So quit pulling these stunts. If you wanted coffee, you should've waited for me, I would've gladly gone with you, I could've used a cup myself." Her cheeks heated up again and she flinched, the embarrassment growing. "Instead you snuck off, you left your phone, you didn't say a word. You scared us," his words weren't meant to hurt her, they were straight to the point and matter of fact, which just made Emily feel even more ashamed then she had before. "I know you're a grown woman, I don't think of you as a little kid, and I don't want to treat you like you are, but you have to stop. You're going to get yourself hurt, or even worse, get us killed. We're hunters, Em, we're not like regular people, there are different codes and there are different rules. I'm sorry that you're being introduced to us like this, but trust me, your alternative here is much, much worse."

"Yes sir," Emily was weeping quietly by the time he'd finished his speech, somehow feeling worse then she had ever felt in her life, letting down Sam was like letting down her father, and her hate had shifted into nothing more then plain and simple shame. Sam nodded, giving her hip a small tap of approval before he shifted his grip to hold her firmly against his stomach and the spanking resumed. Smack after smack lit into her tender flesh, she was hyper aware that Dean was still in the room, most likely watching, and even more aware that this position across Sam's knees was not leaving much to the imagination where her sex was involved. She was secretly very grateful he had let her keep her thong on, it was bad enough that Dean had already seen her down there, but for Sam to see her too? "Ow, ow, owwww," she groaned, the tears that had been pooling in her eyes beginning to spill over. The spanking hurt, Sam had a completely different rhythm then Dean, his spanks were incredibly uniform, unvarying in strength and pattern. He'd spank her right cheek in the same spot six times, then move to the left and repeat, then move to her right sit spot, then left, then start over. His hand felt as heavy as wood, it was unyielding, and Emily was quickly realizing that without the lecture during she had nothing to focus on except the utter, unrelenting pain. It didn't take more than a few minutes before Emily surrendered to the pain of the spanking and her body went limp over his lap, her tears flowing freely into the carpet below her head. It wasn't the worst spanking she'd been given thus far, no Dean still held that title, but it was certainly the most humbling. Sam was clearly not going to be the ally she had thought he would, and it felt very, very lonely. It took her a moment to realize that he had stopped spanking and was instead rubbing soothing circles over her blazing cheeks, before he leaned down to pull her leggings back up and help her up from his lap. She rubbed her eyes with her hands, small sobs still escaping her mouth though she was doing her best to will them to stop. Still seated, he carefully pulled her to sit on his knee, the pain was sharp enough to make her gasp but not enough to make her pull away either, and he gently raised a thumb to her face and wiped a few stray tears from her cheeks too, making her give him a watery smile in return. "I'm sorry I had to do that." He quietly pulled her into a hug and she melted into his arms, staying there until her sobbing had subsided and they were both interrupted by Dean rolling out of the bed to stand and toss his headphones onto the dresser beside him.

"Well that was boring and I'm starving, let's go eat," he announced, taking a moment to shove his wallet into his pocket. Sam sighed at his brother's antics and helped Emily up again, smoothing her hair down with his hand before he turned to roll his eyes at Dean and mouth "are you kidding me?" at him with a head quirk toward Emily.

"What?" Dean shrugged innocently, giving Emily a smile that was part leering, part flirtatious. "She's a big girl, I think she can handle herself. What'd you say dollface, want to go get cleaned up and head back to that coffee place? I finished your latte," he grinned again, gesturing to a small wire garbage can where the remnants of her muffin and coffee cup now sat. Instead of letting herself get worked up at Dean's teasing, Emily recognized he was trying to lighten the mood in the room, and she took it gratefully, giving him a tiny smile back.

"Yeah, let me just cleaned up," she grabbed her backpack and headed to the bathroom, where she took a few minutes to splash cold water onto her face, washing away the easiest reminder of her spanking. She glanced at herself in the mirror and pulled a face. She looked tired, and messy, two things she absolutely despised. The beginnings of some dark circles were forming under her eyes and her hair was a mess. She let out her ponytail and rifled through her bag for some makeup and her hairbrush, which she quickly put to use, trying to stiffly shake out the ache that was still burning through her leggings. Pretty soon she was back to her normal, breathtaking self. Her hair fell in soft waves around her shoulders and she'd scrubbed all evidence of her crying under a layer of foundation and concealer, topping it with some mascara and a swipe of lip balm. She didn't usually go heavy unless she was working a job that required it. And she had a feeling that wasn't going to a part of the deal with these guys. Her own father hadn't minded pimping her out to get a kill, but for some reason Emily just knew Dean and Sam would never allow it. "Texas," she muttered under her breath, which made her giggle as soon as she registered she'd said it out loud. Satisfied that she looked presentable now, she finally opened the door and stepped out.

"So listen, the girl who works here seems to have a lot of theories about the townie murders, she told me that the same man found all three victims so far, and all of them were missing their hearts and their eyes," she told them as they made the short walk over. "She's young, so Sam can probably work his charm on her for more gossip." Dean gave a mock gasp of hurt, clutching his chest as though she'd just deeply insulted him. But it turned out that it wasn't necessary, enough time had passed that their had been a shift change and now instead of the cute little teen behind the counter from earlier, there was a much older, very handsome man wiping down the counter. He had to have been late-30's, he had a tiny hint of grey peppering a full head of dark brown, almost black hair, his eyes were also brown, and his arms were taut and muscled beneath the tight white tee he sported. He straightened when the three entered and Emily could see the faint outline of abs beneath his shirt, which was tucked neatly into a pair of trendy grey slacks.

The man smiled at the three, his teeth straight and white, and his voice was a rich baritone when he spoke, "Well howdy there," he drawled, with a thick southern accent. "Don't reckon I've seen you around here, new townies? Or just passing through?"

"Just passing through," Emily naturally took the lead, ignoring Dean's tension next to her, "I'm Alexis, these are my brother's, we actually are in town for John Hemper's funeral, he was my mom's second cousin." She had made her way to the counter, batting her eyelashes at him prettily, making sure she was leaning up against the counter in a way that accentuated her breasts in the low v-neck black tee she was donning. The boys had never seen her in action before, and even they seemed mesmerized by the performance, neither of them had moved a muscle yet. She used the only name she remembered the girl from earlier giving her, an older guy who'd been one of the victims "Did you know him? Awful what happened," she made sure her voice was even and breathy, exactly what she knew men loved to hear, and it was working. The man's gaze moved from her face to her cleavage and then back up again, his smile still stuck on his face before he answered.

"Oh John? Yeah, sure I knew him. He came in here every morning, never mentioned any family out of town, but I guess I didn't know him well. I own this place," he waved a hand behind him, and Emily's smile brightened again. "So I know just about everyone," he leaned down slightly so he was eye level with Emily and her heart skipped a little beat. "Sorry about your second cousin darlin'," he gave a little wink and then turned to the boys still standing there gawking. "What can I get y'all?" He moved over to the espresso machine and began to pull shots, listening as they rattled off their orders and then Dean, giving Emily a very pointed look, took over the conversation, clearly unhappy with the direction it had gone. He pressed the guy for some details on what was going on, and the easy-going shop owner answered what he could, if he was suspicious of them, his face didn't show it, but he also didn't seem to know as much as the girl from earlier. It wasn't long before they had finished their coffees and pastries and had started to leave, but the owner called her back as the boys reached the door, giving her another winning smile.

"I'm Brian, by the way," he offered, giving her another wink. "If you're in town long, I'd love to take you out and show you around." Dean choked on his last swig of coffee, and coughing, gave a stern "come on sis," to the chagrin of them both. Even Sam was grinning. Emily cleared her throat and shrugged noncommittedly, "I'll let you know cowboy," she returned his wink saucily and then turned and left the shop without another word.

"What was that?" Sam demanded the second they were all out of the shop and on the street, but Emily didn't respond, just kept walking without a word.

"That," Dean responded slowly, watching her retreating back, "was precisely what dad told us she was. Bait."

Chapter 4: You Should See Me In A Crown

It had been an entire two months since the hotel in bumfuck nowhere, and Emily had managed to stay (mostly) out of trouble since then. There'd been one or two rouge incidents where her temper had gotten the better of her with Dean and she'd found herself with a sore butt and wounded pride, but Sam had managed to wiggle back into her good graces pretty quickly and he hadn't raised a hand to her since that day. It helped that they were in overdrive now, since that hunt the boys had seemed to remember that they were supposed to be training her and so that's what they'd done. Emily was constantly aching, new muscles she'd never used were being put into play, and she both hated it and loved it all at once. She'd always been a runner, mostly born from boredom and the fact that she was good at it, but fighting and shooting were not in her repertoire, and that's where they placed the most focus. After a month, she'd become a decent shot, even though she hated the feel of the gun in her hand, hated the reminder of what they were and what they did, but she understood the necessity and she took the praise when she got a good shot in where she could. Hand to hand combat, however, was not her strong suit, and she was getting very sick of having her ass handed to her every time Dean popped into her doorway holding out the offending gloves and a smug smile to go with it. Two months of this had really begun to piss her off.

"I don't understand why I have to do this," Emily grunted as she found herself on her back for the millionth time that day. She pushed up on her elbows to glare at Dean. She was breathing hard, her legs hurt and her arms hurt and her stomach hurt. Really, there wasn't a thing on her that didn't hurt. "I have never in my life had to fight anything. I don't need to fight. I don't want to fight."

She gave him the same whiney speech every time they did this and Dean rolled his eyes in response, extending his hand down to help her up. "You have to be able to defend yourself, Em," he told her as patiently as he could through gritted teeth. But she just pouted at him, starting to unwrap the gloves from her hands to shove them back into his. "Wait, we're not done yet-"

"Yes we are," she cut him off, going to retrieve her water bottle from the other side of the room. "I'm tired Dean, I want to take a bath. And drink an entire bottle of wine." She couldn't quite pull herself out of the funky mood she was in, she'd been feeling it for the last week solid, and it was slowly starting to dawn on her that it was that itch again. That feeling of being trapped. Being stuck. Being forced into a hole that she wasn't able to get out of, with nothing but two boys for company. She was becoming restless and she was aching to get out, to go somewhere, or do something that wasn't fighting with Dean or reading up on spells with Sam, or watching mindless TV all day because that's all there was here. "Can we call it? I'm not getting any better at this, in fact, I think I'm getting worse." She couldn't pull the bitterness from her tone when she said the words, finally turning to look at him again. "Fighting isn't my thing. Shooting isn't my thing."

"Well what is your thing?" The annoyance in Dean's voice couldn't be contained any longer as he stalked towards her, yanking the water bottle from her hand to take his own long drink, ignoring her look of disdain at sharing with him. He swallowed and handed it back with a snide, "you don't fight, you don't shoot, you don't know anything about demons, so what have you done for the last twenty years? Sat around and watched your daddy take everyone out for you? Charmed the monsters to death?" He was sneering again, and Emily felt the tension between them growing to a head.

Unable to contain her own anger, she spat out, "I kept my dad safe, you motherfucker, for 20 fucking years I kept my dad safe and I didn't have to lift one fucking finger to do it."

What was she saying? Why was she telling him this? Emily angrily twisted the cap back onto the water bottle, shoving it into Dean's chest so hard that he was forced back a step. "If you'd let me even go to one fucking hunt you'd see, but oh no, I'm "too delicate," her voice was mocking, air quoting Sam with a snort of derision. "I'm stronger then either of you, and you don't even care. You're so wrapped up in this idea of what it means to be a hunter that you're completely ignoring Castiel's orders and continuing to try to force me to be something I'm not!" He looked shocked at those words, and even a little guilt crept into his eyes as she spoke, both of them knowing exactly what she meant. It hadn't been three weeks since the angel had appeared from nowhere to ask Dean and Sam why they had not been bringing Emily to their hunts. He hadn't even let them respond before he'd disappeared again.

She spun around on her heel and stomped from the room, angrily tossing the water bottle into the garbage can on the way out. She knew Dean would probably chase her down, he'd probably yell at her for how she was acting, then spank her like the caveman he was. But it wouldn't make her feel any different. This had to end she couldn't keep doing this day in and day out. She slammed her bedroom door shut and went into the bathroom to start a bath for herself, locking the door behind her. She didn't hear Dean following, but it didn't mean he wouldn't, so better safe than sorry. The scent of lavender began to fill the air as she poured in her favorite epsom salt blend and some bubble bath, and she took in a deep calming breath. Before long, she'd made short work of her clothing and sank into the hot water, sighing with relief. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the hard lip of the tub, letting herself get lost in her thoughts. She'd asked the boys to take her to Seattle, and they'd shut her down immediately. It hadn't been long enough, whatever had killed her father could have easily set traps, could still be there, waiting, knowing, and Emily had protested that she didn't care, she could take on whatever it was, and that's when Dean had laughed and ended the convo with no further discussion. Emily had seethed quietly the rest of the day, but didn't argue. It wasn't worth it. If she had learned anything about the Winchesters, it was that they didn't change their minds. Not easily anyway. And no amount of her pleading or charm would work on them.

But now? Now, sitting in the bath stewing, Emily began to plan. It was time. She had played their games for long enough, she'd kept herself in check, she'd learned what she could from them, and it was time to move on. Dean kept the keys to baby stashed in the pocket of his ever present leather jacket. Depending on what he was doing, it was left in his room, or at the table, or on the couch, or wherever he thought to toss it at the moment, and today? Today it was hanging on his chair in the dining room. She'd pack her duffle with the essentials she needed to survive on her onw for awhile, and she'd leave them a couple grand for letting her "borrow" baby. They'd eventually catch up to her, but given a good enough headstart, she'd at least be able to make it Seattle before them and do what needed to be done. With any luck, they'd lose her scent for good. She felt a small pang at that thought, regardless of how she'd gotten here and what they did, she had gotten pretty attached to the handsome brother's. Sam was probably the only friend she'd ever made that had lasted more then a few weeks, and Dean? Well Dean was Dean. A father, a brother, a friend, really nice eye candy all in one. But, she reminded herself firmly, they were not really her family. They were not really her friends. They were a means to an end.

She'd soaked long enough, her fingers had begun to wrinkle at that point, so she quickly washed herself and ran the razor over her legs and underarms, not sure when her next shower would be possible. Then she let the water out of the tub and got out, patting herself dry. She went through her normal routine, but this time she put her toiletries back into the little baggies she'd unpacked them from when she'd gotten here. She hung her towel on the back of the door and stepped out into her small room again, so lost in her thoughts that she didn't even notice the man sitting on her bed at first. She had been pulling on her panties and a sleep shirt when he spoke, and it startled her so badly that she had actually jumped in the air, whirling around with a look of pure terror in her eyes.

"You are making a mistake child," there was no lust in his eyes, or embarrassment, or any shred of emotion at all as Emily found her bearings, still clutching her chest as if her heart were about to leap right out of it.

"Jesus fuck Cass!" Her heart was pounding and she suddenly glared at the angel in front of her, her hands going to her hips in pure anger. "Do you make it a habit to sneak up on naked women you perv?" His expression didn't change, he just cocked his head to the side and said simply,

"Your naked form does not interest me. But your actions do. And you are making a mistake." He repeated the words patiently, as if he were talking to a very small child. His voice was so odd, soothing but clipped, unassuming and judgement free. He furrowed his brow slightly though as Emily brought her arms back down to her sides and went to sit next to him, running a hand through her hair.

"Well what am I supposed to do? Keep sitting around here until I die? Cass, come on, they aren't following God's orders either, so why should I?"

"You were meant to stay with them," he said simply. "To protect them. To have protection. You have chosen not to share with them what you are, God does not mind. Your free will is your own. I am here only to warn you that you are meant to stay and you have decided to go. They will find you. If other's do not before them."

And then he was gone again, and Emily let out an exasperated sigh and looked to the ceiling to yell "oh thanks SO MUCH!" before the door opened again and Dean was there, looking confused. "Was that Cass?"

"Nope," Emily stood and straightened out the long tee shirt she was wearing, giving him a shrug. "Stubbed my toe."

Without another word, she brushed past him and headed to the kitchen to make the boys their last homecooked meal. Whatever God planned, that was fine and dandy, but Emily wasn't going to be swayed. She had her mission and she was going to fulfill it, not waste her life sitting around a bunker getting her ass handed to her by Dean Winchester.

The bunker was quiet when Emily's alarm buzzed at her, waking her from her fitful sleep. She'd gone to bed right after dinner, telling the boy's that she had a headache from earlier and wanted to sleep it off. They hadn't argued, in fact they'd fussed a little over her, which had certainly not helped her guilt any. But she had to shove those feelings down, deep down, and she did, like a switch. She'd get as much sleep as she could and then she'd go in the wee hours of the morning, way before they'd awake and find her gone. 2 AM, the phone blinked at her and she yawned, stretching her body out and then moving quickly. Her bag was packed already, her clothes and her toiletries were stowed safely in the duffle, money in the bottom of it, and she stripped her sleep shirt off, folding it neatly and placing it on top of the dresser. They could have it. She redressed in a pair of high waisted, tight black jeans and a pretty cropped white lace top, her white converse on her feet as she tested the noise. Good, they were quiet. She slung her bag over her shoulder and eased the door open, listening for any sound of the boys moving around, but there was nothing. Just silence. Creeping down the hall on her tip toes, she passed Sam's room, then Dean's, pausing in front of each to say a silent goodbye before she had made it to the dining room and found the golden ticket. She put her bag down for a second and quietly pulled Dean's jacket off the back of the chair, slipping it over her shoulders. She'd already made the decision to take it, her own reminder of the boys and she inhaled the scent of his cologne deeply, feeling warmth spread through her body as she did so. It was big, but luckily the look was trendy and she didn't really care anyway. Feeling for the keys in the pocket, she smiled and slung her bag back up and that was that. The door was tricky, they had so many locks that it took her a good ten minutes to get them all quietly undone, but they didn't appear. Her heart was beating in her throat as she opened the door and slipped out, closing it with a quiet 'click' behind her. Freedom.

The duffle was tossed haphazardly in the back and she was in Baby in no time, the keys in the ignition and the hard part behind her. As the engine roared to life, Emily adjusted the seat to her height and threw it in reverse. The drive to Seattle would take her 30 hours, her plan was to drive as far as she could before needing to stop to rest, and by that time, she'd be well out of the boy's range.

What she hadn't counted on, however, was the noise of the engine waking the two brother's in the house.

"Sam, she's gone!" Dean roared from the bedroom, sleep still in his eyes, as he tore into the dining room, looking frantically for his jacket. It was gone. She was gone. Her room was empty, her bed was made, and his jacket with his keys was gone. "That fucking BITCH!" He roared, throwing the door open. The car was gone, his baby was gone, she was gone. "Sam, call Bobby, or Ellen, whoever's closer to us right now, and see if they gotta car we can borrow. Looks like we've got a trip ahead of us."

He was going to kill her.

 

Chapter 5: Run Run Lost Boy

Emily drove for hours, passing state after state, before her eyelids started feeling heavy and she knew she needed to stop and take a break. She had made it to Oklahoma and she took the first offramp that came into view where there was a nice Marriott and a Starbucks blinking in the distance. She did Starbucks first, grabbing a hot caramel macchiato, taking her time to savor her coffee in the near empty parking lot before she made her way to the hotel. After she had parked, she did a quick onceover in the mirror, taking out her small makeup bag to do some touch ups on the bags under her eyes and reapplying a nice red lip, then satisfied with her appearance, grabbed out her duffle bag and her backpack and headed inside the double glass doors. She felt eyes on her as she entered and she paused for effect, taking her time to shake out her waves and perch her sunglasses on top of her head, the movement of raising her arms also doing the favor of raising her crop top a few more inches. The clock on the wall told her it was almost 11am, she'd done eight and a half hours of solid driving, a reward was definitely in order. So used to grubby motels or whatever was the cheapest and closest, Emily was thrilled with the idea of an actual hotel room, with room service and a fluffy expensive bed, and a nice hot shower. By now the boy's would've discovered her gone, but she had more then enough of a head start on them. She could sleep a few hours, shower and treat herself to a nice lunch, and then be back on her merry old way before they had a chance to do anything. Emily gave the small crowd in the lobby a dazzling smile as a bellhop came over to take her bags, his face turning a delightful shade of red as he did so, stammering out a "w-w-welcome to the Marriott," and helped her to the concierge.

She turned on the full charm, it was an older gentleman behind the counter, he had an air of snooty hostility, but at the sight of the beautiful young woman in front of him, she sensed his defenses drop ever so slightly as she took her backpack off to fish out her wallet. "Hello," she kept her voice airy and light and batted her lashes at him coyly. "I'm hoping you have a room for just the night? I'm driving cross country and could use a rest," she fished out her fake ID card, "Jackson, Alexis R," printed across the top.

"Of course," the man was still smiling at her warmly and Emily kept eye contact, willing him to follow her lead. "Do you have a credit card you'd like to use with us today? We have several room options available, Ms. Jackson," he broke contact to begin typing her information into his system, though he seemed disappointed to do so. It was working (as it always did), but she could do better, so she pouted her bottom lip out slightly and lowered her gaze, peeking at him up from her lashes, the look alluring and innocent all at once, one she'd practiced a million times in the mirror before.

"Oh, I'll take whatever's cheapest, thank you, and I have cash," she purred, her voice pure silk. Flirting was easy, it took hardly any effort and it always worked on men like this.

"Nonsense," the man smiled at her, handing back her ID and meeting her gaze, a warm blush on his wrinkled cheeks. "We have a suite available, I would hate for it to go to waste, I'll charge you for a single room, just between us," he winked at her, glancing to the side to make sure his coworkers were not privvy to the deal he was making, and she willed her own pretty blush to appear, giving a giggle before tossing her hair over her shoulder.

"You're too sweet," she cooed, opening the wallet to retrieve a wad of 20's. "I will have to repay your kindness in the future. Maybe a drink tomorrow night?" Of course she wouldn't make good on that promise, she'd be gone by that afternoon, no paper trail, no hassle. She handed the bills over, and pushed herself back from the counter, as the concierge stammered out some response to her she wasn't really listening too, then waved the bellboy off with a smile and wink. "No need, sugar, I've got it."

She took the key card from the older man with another smile and wink, and headed to the elevators, feeling slightly drained all of a sudden. It took energy to do what she did, but it was worth it. As the elevator welcomed her to the floor her room resided in, she breathed a sigh of relief and opened her door with a smile. The suite was huge, but somehow still cozy, decorated in a nice scheme of calming blues and greys. There was a big tv and a nice leather couch, a kitchenette, and a large dining area. There was also a big open window that laid out the view of the city before her, and a door to the left that opened to a big bedroom with a king sized bed, another tv, and a perfect bathroom with both a jacuzzi tub and a shower. Definitely worth it. Emily tossed her duffle on the bed and made short work getting the tub going, pouring in the bath salts and bubble bath the hotel had provided, then making her way back to the bedroom to pick up the room service menu and flip through it while the tub filled. A drink sounded heavenly, so she dialed in room service and requested a cocktail and a cheeseburger be delivered. A pang of guilt hit her as she finally looked at her phone to see that she had a dozen missed calls from Sam, and one ominous text from Dean that just said, "enjoy the free time sweetheart." She rolled her eyes, the guilt dissipating and tossed the phone onto the bed with a thud.

She went to check on the bath, it was perfect, and she made short work of her clothing, pulling on instead the warm and fluffy hotel robe that was hanging on the back of the bathroom door, and sighed contentedly. Before long, Emily was digging into the delicious burger and lemondrop that had been left outside her door, and then she took the longest soak of her life, almost drifting off into oblivion, she felt so good. So light. So free. She didn't have the energy to do anything other then dry herself off and let the water out of the tub, pull out her hairbrush and make quick work of her hair, then pull the luxurious robe back on and tumble into the soft bed with a tired yawn. She was asleep the second her head hit the pillow.

-MEANWHILE-

"Got it," Sam was staring intensely at his laptop, perched precariously on his knees, the bumpiness of the road and the bad shocks of Bobby's old truck making tracking the little devil a lot less enjoyable then it would've been had they'd been in Dean's Impala. All in all, she'd gotten about a four hour head start on them by the time Bobby had made it to the bunker and then driven them back to his place to get his second car, then lectured the pair for a half hour on how stupid they were for not being able to keep one little girl in their grasp, and Dean's anger was at a peak. Sam didn't try to calm him down, he'd just gotten to work pulling up her cell phone to track where she was going, very grateful he'd had the foresight to download it without her knowledge a few days after they'd discovered she had one. "She's in Tulsa, Oklahoma, looks like she's stopped for the time being at a hotel off the 505. We may be able to catch her there." He put the laptop down and rubbed a tired hand over his face, wanting nothing more then to go back to sleep, but knowing he'd have to wait. They had a long drive ahead and they'd be lucky if they got to her before she took off again, even though the pair knew exactly where she was headed, where she'd been begging to go since she'd found out she'd be staying with them. Seattle.

"Get some sleep Sammy," Dean ordered, turning the laptop towards himself so he could glance at the address her phone was at. "We got a few more hours and then you'll be driving this home after I wear that little bitch out." His hands tightened on the steering wheel, his jaw twitching. A few more hours to let his anger simmer and stew before he got his hands on her. "Baby better not have a scratch on her."

"Hey, take it easy Dean," Sam sighed, sitting back and crossing his arms over his chest. "I get why she did it. Remember when I went on that wild goose chase to Cali to find dad? I just had to know. I had to try. She's doing the same thing, you know? We should've taken her more seriously when she asked us last time."

"No, Sam!" Dean slammed his palm on the steering wheel, turning a furious eye to his brother, "we've been too easy on her! This shouldn't have ever been a thought in her head to begin with! That fucking bitch stole my fucking car, and you're telling me to go easy on her because she's got some unresolved daddy issues? Tough! We all do!"

Sam didn't respond, his own jaw tightened in annoyance at his brother's dramatics, but he knew it wasn't going to do any good to argue with him at the time, not when he was so angry. So he followed orders and let his head fall back, closing his eyes.

-FOUR HOURS LATER -

Emily was dreaming.

She was dreaming that she was awake, in the hotel room, and there were two very tired and very angry Winchester boys standing over her bed. She was dreaming. She was...she was dreaming wasn't she? She blinked, and rubbed her eyes with her fingers, shaking her head slightly as if she were pulling herself from the nightmare that was Dean and Sam staring back at her from the foot of the bed. Sam's arms crossed, Dean's hands clasped in front of him. Neither of them smiling.

"What the fuck-"

"Miss us sweetheart?" Dean crooned, his voice deadly quiet beneath the sarcastic sneer. She wasn't dreaming. With a start, Emily flew out of the bed, her pretty face unable to mask the amount of confusion she was feeling.

"How are you...how did you-how did you find me?" She managed to stammer out, clutching the robe a little more tightly around herself and taking a step back. Dean let out a short, tense laugh, looking to Sam before he lunged, on top of her before she could even scream for help. His hands wrapped around her upper arms so tightly that a whine escaped her lips, but it was knocked right out of her when he shook her, hard and then shoved her the rest of the way backwards into the wall, his face inches from hers, his green eyes blazing a hole into her blue ones, releasing one arm to clap his hand so tightly over her mouth that she could smell the hand sanitizer he must've used in the lobby.

"I should kill you right here," he breathed out quietly, his grip tightening again and she cried out against his hand, the sound muffled, which finally drew a response from Sam who sighed and came beside his brother, pulling him off of the frightened girl.

"Hey dude, back off, I think she gets it," he glanced to Emily and the betrayal in his eyes made tears well in hers. Well fuck this had all backfired spectacularly, Emily thought as Dean backed up and finally took a look around the room, snorting in response. "Well, well, well, living in the lap of luxury, aren't we sweetheart?" He waved a hand around. "How'd you pay for this? Fake credit cards? Cash? We saw you left us a little present back there at the bunker, what was that?" His eyes met hers again and she looked away, shrugging. "Oh no, sweetheart," he was on her again, grabbing her chin now in his calloused hand and he forced her to meet his gaze, his grip unyielding, his other arm behind him to ward Sam off. "I expect an answer."

"C-cash," she managed to get out, wrenching her chin from him before wrapping her arms around herself as if she were suddenly cold.

"Waste of money," he spat, finally moving far enough away from her that she could breathe, the threat neutralized. Without another word, he stalked into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him and leaving Sam alone with her. His face wasn't as angry, his eyes not as fiery, his demeanor just...kind of sad.

"Why'd you run, Em?" He asked her softly, going to sit on the corner of the bed. Emily sighed, peeling her body away from the wall so she could come sit beside him, knowing there was nowhere to run and nowhere to hide.

"You know why, Sam." Her body was tense beside him, but her voice was resigned and he sighed again. He'd been doing a lot of that lately, the sighing.

"What was your plan, Emily? To get there and just...never see us again? Were you going to come back? What were you thinking?" His voice was gentle but there was an edge beneath it that Emily knew well. She was treading dangerous waters right now, one misstep and she'd be pulled under.

"I don't really know, Sam," she told him honestly. "I figured...I just, I figured I'd figure it out when I got there. You don't understand," her voice hardened and she stood, taking a step forward so her back was to him, staring at the blank tv screen. "I didn't have a chance to do anything, Sam. I didn't have a chance to say goodbye to my home, I didn't have a chance to see what my dad left behind. I didn't have the closure I needed to heal from what happened to him, and what happened to us. And face it, Sam," it was her turn to sigh and her arms came back around herself tightly as she turned to look at him. He couldn't tell if she was manipulating him, but he felt his heart tightening at her words and the expression in her face and he just knew this wasn't bullshit. They were kindred. "Dean wasn't ever going to let me go. I was suffocating in that bunker not knowing...not knowing if I'd ever get my chance to make them pay."

"I know how you feel, Emily," Sam ran his hand through his hair, shaking his head with a small laugh, "I actually know exactly how you feel. Dean and I lost our dad too, you know, and the first few months after were...they were rough. I wanted nothing but revenge for a long time, Dean and I tried everything to get him back, and it killed us that we couldn't. So when I had the chance to finally get that payback, I took it. Dean would've understood, Emily, but you don't tell us anything-"

The sentimental moment was broken up when the bathroom door opened and Dean came back into view, surveying the scene before him with a coolness that Emily knew spelled trouble. His arms were crossed, and she saw, not quite immediately, that he was holding in his left hand her thick, wooden hairbrush. She gulped, eyes widening, and stepped back again, her back meeting the dresser as Sam, seconds behind her, also took in the sight. He stood then, taking his cue to leave, and patted Emily's shoulder gently. "For what it's worth, I'm glad that we found you Emily. You can't do this alone, no matter how strong you may think you are." He left her alone with Dean then, shutting the door firmly behind him, before the sound of him flopping onto the couch and the TV springing to life met their ears and they turned to each other, squaring off. Dean watched her for a long moment as he tossed the hairbrush to the bed, then took his time rolling up the sleeves of his Henley tee, moving his leather jacket from the bed where Emily had left it to an arm chair in the corner, adjusting the comforter so that it lay flat, the dark wood of the brush a stark contrast to the pristine white of the bed set. Emily stayed against the dresser, her eyes fixed on him and that dreaded brush, suddenly cursing herself for ever leaving that thing out where it could be found, but then again, none of this had been part of the plan. None of it.

"Oh Emily, Emily, Emily," he clucked quietly, finally setting her in his gaze again, trapping her. He saw her eyes dart towards the door of the bathroom and he laughed, cocking his head to the side, "You really think you'd make it?" His voice was taunting and her eyes narrowed, the temptation to run growing, and then she moved, pushing off the dresser to flee, gasping as he deftly caught her around the waist and hauled her backwards towards the bed. "Oh I don't think so, little girl," he set her down in between his knees, taking her wrists in his hands and holding her there firmly. She pulled back and he just shook his head, "No, I don't think so," he moved one hand to the tie holding her robe shut and without any further ado, he tugged it loose until it fell at her side and the robe opened.

"No, Dean!" Her face went scarlet as the robe fell open, and her gloriously naked body came into view. Dean couldn't help himself at the sight of her, she was the most perfect creature he'd ever laid eyes on, every bit of her perfectly proportioned. Of course he'd seen her ass, her legs, she wore cute little outfits all the time around the bunker, but this? He hadn't prepared himself for this. He felt the bulge in his pants tighten and he took a breath to steady himself, to ground him for the task at hand, she had stolen baby and she had ran. The anger returned, and the bulge weakened, and as she moved her free hand to try to force the robe closed, he caught it again and without warning, pulled the fluffy, offending garment from her body and let it pool on the ground. She cried out again, and Dean acted, using the moment to pull the mortified girl to his side and bring her over his knee, letting her upper body rest on the bed, trapped her ankles beneath his right foot, her hips digging into his left thigh. He knew she'd need it, this was going to the worst spanking he'd ever given, the hardest he'd ever dished out, the worst she'd probably ever experience. He'd even specifically inquired of the hotel manager whether or not there was a second suite on the upper floor that was occupied, and the answer had been no, so they were alone. He had to focus, he had to get it together, and now that she was effectively trapped, he could. He took a moment to collect himself and collect his thoughts, his hand pressed solidly against her naked hip, pinning her down. She was squirming, wiggling that glorious ass in his face and he was again distracted, until her hand flew back and pounded into his back, startling him. "Let me GO Dean! This is not okay! Let me put clothing on right NOW!"

There it was. The push. His hand rose and fall and Emily felt it only a second after she heard the resounding CRACK! She bucked, but there was nowhere to go. Dean waited a moment and then let his hand fall again to the other side, blooming a matching handprint on her other cheek. It was gorgeous, the way her skin reacted, bounced and jiggled so delightfully. Sometimes, it's good to be Dean. He began in earnest, careful not to spank her too hard right off the bat, he wanted to warm her skin up so that she could take and feel the whole thing, because this was going to be long. He didn't speak during the warm-up, letting his hand do the talking, focusing on the color rising in her cheeks, but she certainly was talking a lot, swearing and struggling. "Motherfucker, this isn't FAIR," she ground out from between her clenched teeth, smacking his back again. Dean didn't respond, instead the strength of the spanks increased, which in turn, increased the pitch of her whine. "Ow ow owww," she groaned, pounding the mattress with the palm of her hand now, instead of hitting him, quickly catching on that it was directly correlated to hitting him.

The spanking was getting harder, he'd spend a minute on the same tempo, then up it a tiny bit, laying smack after smack upon her rapidly pinkening ass until a nice light shade of red glowed. He paused for a moment, listening to her struggling to catch her breath, no tears in her voice, but he could tell by her body language that she was close. Her toes were curled tightly beneath his leg, and her hands were balled into the comforter as tightly as they could be, and she was breathing hard, like she was forcing herself to be strong. "So," he rested his hand on her warm backside, rubbing it up and down gently, enjoying the softness and the heat radiating from it. "You got this hairbrained idea to sneak out in the middle of the night, steal my car, and drive yourself down to Seattle?" He felt her tense, her back arching just slightly enough to let him know she was listening, though she didn't respond verbally. "Then," he continued, his rubbing getting a little harder, hearing a small whine leave her lips in response, "you get to this swanky place, decide to treat yourself to the biggest room they have, read and ignore my texts and Sammy's calls, and do what? Fall asleep? Letting us, all the while, chase after your ass in a godforsaken 1988 DODGE," he spat the word like it was dirty, and she tensed again, feeling the shift in tone, "to TULSA?" His hand cracked down sharply, the real spanking beginning, and it didn't stop for several minutes, he lectured and spanked, and gave her no room to argue or respond, and he didn't stop until he felt the first sob leave her mouth, feeling her body begin to shake slightly as the tears came.

Emily felt like her ass was on fire, Dean had never given her this long of a hand spanking before, and it was miserable and horrible and he was miserable and horrible, and while she'd been trying to come up with something that might placate him into stopping, there was nothing but the buzzing of pain in her mind, the constant burn in her ass, and the sounds of flesh meeting flesh bouncing off the walls. When Dean finally stopped the second time, his hand was burning almost as hot as her ass. He shook it out with a grunt, moving his free hand from her hip to cup underneath her chin, forcing her to press herself up on her forearms and look back at him. "This was one of the worst choices you've made in a long time, Em, I thought we were making progress! What happened?" His voice was gentler, clearly his anger was waning as he took it out on her poor, defenseless bottom.

"I...I dunno," she sobbed, honestly. All of a sudden being caught, being over his knee, she really didn't know. Cass had warned her, he had told her they'd catch up to her. And damnit, of course, Castiel.

"Did Cass tell you where I was?" She managed to sniffle and it was her turn to feel Dean stiffen, his eyes meeting hers accusingly.

"Castiel came to you?" Fuck! Stuck in the story with nowhere to go now, Emily could do nothing but give a short nod miserably, and Dean released her chin, letting her fall back to the bedspread. "Emily Sarah Parker," full name, ouch. She'd been livid when he'd said it the first time and then smugly held up her birth certificate which she had thought she'd stowed safely in her backpack. Then he'd been teasing her, now? Now was serious. She felt small. She felt stupid. "I told Sam I was gonna wear you out, and I think I'm gonna make good on that promise." He was livid, it was one thing to do every dumb thing she'd accomplished so far, it was quite another that she'd been visited by the angel and then run off anyway. "Did he TELL you to do this?"

"N-no sir," she whimpered, burying her face in her hands. At this point, lying was moot. It would only result in a worse offense and she couldn't handle anymore. "He told me not to do it, and I did it anyway."

Dean let out a breath angrily and then leaned over to pick up the brush. "Oh girl," he shook his head, patting her ass gently with the smooth, cold wood. "You really did bring this all on yourself."

 

The cold wood of the brush tapping against her already flaming bottom made her flinch and she involuntarily clenched her cheeks in response, knowing that this was about to be the most painful afternoon of her life. Dean didn't speak as he rubbed the brush over her flesh, the brush felt weighted in his hand, he wasn't used to such a...feminine instrument. Usually it was his hand or his belt, the way his dad had done it, the way he had always done it. But for this? It just felt fitting, a fitting punishment for a spoiled little girl who stole things that didn't belong to her, who kept baskets of secrets, who flirted shamelessly to get what she wanted, and undermined his every step. He squared his shoulders, tightening his grip on her waist, his elbow digging into her lower back slightly in warning of what was to come. He wanted her to relax but he knew she wasn't going to, not any time soon. So instead he waited for her sobbing to subside a little and then he began without any other to-do, the brush rising and falling across her ass with satisfying 'SMACKS,' the unyielding wood burst dark red ovals across her already red cheeks, that burned white then faded back to a darker shade of crimson as he continued. She was moving a lot now, her tears had begun in earnest, her voice wailing above the sound of the spanking, begging him to stop, which of course he wouldn't do.

"Oh pl-please-owowow, Dean, oh stop, stop, stop!" The tears came fast, there was no hiding any emotion now. The brush hurt, it burned hotter and deeper than anything she'd ever felt before. She much preferred his belt in that moment, at least the leather was flexible and the burn was on the surface, and this? This was a hot poker lighting her skin, a hundred angry bees stinging the same place over and over, she felt it in her bones. She was sure he was flaying her alive, she was sure she was bruised and battered beyond repair, and her sobs spoke of the pain she was feeling. Dean's resolve was wavering at the sound, but he didn't let up. Up and down, up and down, never striking the same spot, he moved to her sit spots and her wails increased, her back arched against his grip, her feet so tightly crossed that he was sure they'd be just as bruised as her bottom would be. He didn't want to cause her that much pain, but she deserved this, and damnit was he going to make sure the "you won't sit for a week!' sentiment would be put to practice. Her ass was an angry, splotchy red now, he moved to redo the pattern he'd hit on for the third time, the brush splatting into her skin with no pause. Emily's body finally relaxed, she'd surrendered, given up, the fight gone. There was no stopping it, and the pain had become a buzz in her mind, she leaned into it, and just sobbed brokenly into the blanket beneath her, her body shaking with the cries and the stress of it all. Dean finished the round, a solid forty swats, and realized he'd accomplished his task, the girl beneath him wasn't struggling, she was barely reacting any longer which meant that the spanking had gotten through and he had reached "numb" stage.

He tossed the brush behind him and moved his hand to rub across her firm globes, feeling the wheals from the brush marring the perfect skin. There were a few spots that were much darker, they'd definitely begin to bloom bruises, but for the most part it was just thoroughly spanked skin that would be reminding her of this transgression for at least a few days to come. Emily's quiet sniffles and hiccups broke up the silence between them, she made no movements to stand or pull away, he made no movements to release her or stop the gentle circles on her scorched flesh. They stayed that way until she'd cried herself out, then he slowly helped her to stand between his knees again. Her face was a mess and yet somehow she was so perfect as she stood in front of him, still gloriously naked and for once, unashamed, and Dean felt the urge to pull her into his arms and kiss her all over her tear-stained face so strongly that he had to take a deep breath to settle himself.

He bent down and picked up the robe from the floor, standing to help her get back into it, her movements slow and jerky, clearly still feeling the after effects of what had just happened. She didn't make eye contact, didn't speak, no trace of anger or rage in her face, but that didn't mean it wasn't coming. Dean opened his arms and she took the hug, wrapping her slim arms around his neck and burying her face into his shoulder as he rubbed soothing circles into her back now, instead of her bottom. She was exhausted then, the spanking had taken every bit of emotion out of her, but she managed to let out a small, "I'm so, so sorry Dean," into the crevice of his neck, her breath ghosting across his skin, and he chuckled a little, flexing his arms harder around her and dropping an affectionate kiss to the top of her head. He wasn't angry any longer, she had a way of clearing the air after punishments almost like sage, he couldn't quite put his finger on it, whatever it was that made him feel this way, as though he was the wrong one.

"You will be, when you have to sit on your ass for the drive back home." The tender moment was broken, he always managed to do that, and Emily had pulled away to give him a sassy retort just as the door opened and Sam popped his head in.

"This place got room service? I'm starving." Emily nodded, offering him a watery smile, and pointing to the menu still open on the nightstand table next to the phone. Sam, sensing that things were calming down, fully entered the room and flopped onto the bed, taking up the menu while Dean shot him a little glare. Good old Sam.

"Really, Sam, don't you think we should, oh I don't know, get back on the road?"

"Nah," Sam flipped the page on the menu and smiled up at the two of them. "Emily's got the room for the night, let's stay. We haven't had a break like this in awhile, and if it's paid for then what's the harm?" He sat up to hand Dean the menu and grinned at the pair of them, "What do you say? A night in "lap of luxury,"?" he mocked Dean, making Emily laugh a little and Dean frown a lot.

"I am tired," she admitted, turning her gaze to Dean. "You guys are too, right? Why don't we stay a night?"

Dean saw he was outnumbered and the frown deepened, though after a beat he shook his head in acquiesce. "Fine, you guys win. But I want a steak sandwich and a beer and a nap and an hour of that big screen in there with zero interruptions," he bargained and Emily laughed again. The tension was gone. The boys were back, spoiling her plans, and yet, instead of feeling frustrated about the whole thing, Emily felt a little relieved they'd found her. What was the sorcery in this spanking business? She shook the thought from her head and went to the bathroom to dress herself, feeling like she needed a heap of caffeine and a snack to make it through the rest of the night as well.

Emily and Dean didn't really speak the rest of the afternoon. The three of them ordered dinner and drinks, put on some action flick that Dean insisted on, and then opened the sofa up to make a pullout bed for the boys to sleep on. Sam teased her when she added a pillow to sit on that night and they'd bantered back and forth until Dean told them both to shut up, and things felt fairly normal. Tense, but normal. To break it up a little, Emily shared with them that the room had been comped, much to Dean's incredulity, and then she shared what Cass had said when she'd been sneaking out the day before. Dean's face remained impassive but thoughtful, regarding her carefully while she spoke, making her feel slightly uncomfortable. Hearing the words coming from her mouth, knowing that she had really messed up that time, it all seemed so stupid now. Sam tried to press her on what Cass had meant in his cryptic message, but Emily clammed back up, and they hadn't pushed.

"I know it was dumb, Dean," she told him softly a few hours later while they got ready for bed in the comically large bathroom. Both boys had already enjoyed the shower and the amenities it offered and Sam had passed out almost the second he'd finished his, so it was just the two of them. "But I had to, even knowing what Cass said, even faced with the thought of not seeing you guys again. Even if it meant that I'd run into the thing that killed my dad." Dean was brushing his teeth, and he leaned down to spit while she watched him, the hairbrush that had earlier been used to bust her butt now pulling through her hair in even, methodical strokes. He straightened and gave her his full attention and she continued, setting the brush down gently, the movement not lost on him. She didn't know why she was sharing this with him, but the moment felt right, and if it meant he'd learn something that would help her later, so be it. His big green eyes stayed fixed on her face as she spoke, uninterrupting.

"I wasn't there the night that my dad died," it was difficult for her to get the words out, she couldn't stop the tears from pooling in her eyes as she said it out loud, though she ignored them, ignored the crack in her voice. "We'd been fighting, for awhile actually, and it just finally came to a head, I guess. I was tired of it, every day on the road with him, sitting around while he faced every manner of evil on this earth, not having my own life or my own time, or anything really that was mine and just mine. I'd finally met a guy, some preppy idiot from the local university near where we lived when we weren't on the road, I wanted to go to a concert that night with him, and dad said no," she swallowed hard at the memory, as if it had been a lifetime ago, even though it had been mere months. "There was a hunt he needed me for, and I was so, so angry at him, Dean," the tears were falling quietly, Dean had to resist the urge to lean forward and brush them from her cheeks, "so I left. I left anyway. I went to the concert, and my dad went on his hunt, and he died. The last thing I said to him was that I wished he'd given me away so I could be normal." The word was spat so bitterly that it made them both flinch. "My dad died alone while I got drunk at some stupid band show with some guy I knew I'd never see again, and the worst part was? When I came home, when I saw his body, when I felt the presence of the demon still lingering, I didn't do anything. I didn't fight. I didn't bury him. I just ran away, like some scared little girl." She'd never admitted this to anyone and now that she was, her heart was broken all over again. "It's my fault that he died, Dean, and you have no idea how it feels to know that I could've easily saved him by just not being a selfish little bitch and I failed him. I failed him."

She broke down and Dean didn't say a word as he swept her into his arms and held her tightly while she wept into his shirt, his hand finding the back of her hair, stroking softly. "It's okay," he whispered finally, and he repeated it over and over, as she continued to cry, and he continued to process what she said. He still didn't understand it fully, but he felt like he at least finally understood her, and her need to do what she did, her need to get back to her home, to see what was left there. That night, he didn't leave her to cry by herself, instead he crawled into the bed beside her. She was on her side, not quite asleep, and the move surprised her, but she didn't send him away. It didn't feel sexual, the way she would feel when a man was normally in her bed, it was comforting. It was protective. She had missed feeling that way, feeling like someone truly cared to look out for her. With a soft sigh, she snuggled a little tighter into him and closed her eyes. She was out before she even realized it.

Dean was gone when Emily awoke the next morning. For a second, she wondered if she had dreamed it, but the spot was still warm, and as she shifted to sit up and her ass hit the bed, she groaned. It had definitely not been a dream. The shower was running so she assumed one of them was in it, and she stood to take the heat off her poor bruised butt and pad into the other room. Sam was looking at the room service menu again, but he looked up when she entered and yawned, grinning at her with that boyish smile only he had, "hey sleepy head," he teased, and she noticed that he had already put the bed back together, and tidied up from the night before.

"Dang, I must've really slept in," she acknowledged, holding her hand out for the menu. "Anything look good? There was a Starbuck's next door too, you know..." she wiggled her eyebrows at him suggestively and he laughed, taking the menu from her to fold it up.

"That sounds good, I haven't had Starbucks in awhile," he agreed. If he knew that Dean had stayed with her last night, he didn't let on, and Emily felt a grateful tug of affection towards him for that. Sam was always the tactful one, respectful in a way that his brother was not. Speaking of, Dean had entered the room, wiping a towel through his hair, already re-dressed in his clothes from the day before. "Someone say coffee?" He looked between them, waggling his eyebrows in a near perfect impression of Emily that made them all laugh, before he jerked his thumb to the bathroom. "You better hurry princess, check out's in a half hour, and we've got a long drive to Seattle ahead of us."

They boys both turned to look at her expectantly, and it took a second for it to dawn on Emily what Dean had said. "Really?" Her smile was so bright and so genuine that it was infectious, both the boys grinned back, almost doggishly. "Oh you guys!" She threw one arm around each guys shoulder, almost pulling them down to the ground and they both laughed, finding their balance. Sam ruffled her hair affectionately as Dean gave her a sarcastic wink,

"Don't be thanking us when your ass is gonna enjoy another 15 hours in the car, darlin'," Emily made a face at him and rolled her eyes. That did sound miserable. But the appeal of going home was so strong that even Dean's teasing couldn't ruin her good mood.

"I'm going to shower," she announced and without another word, she turned on her heel and headed to shower herself. Stripping off the robe (she made the split decision to swipe it, so into her duffel it went), she turned to survey the damage to her ass. It was still a little pink, there were a few spots that were bruised, a few splotches that were a little darker then the pink. She hadn't expected it to be this...okay. The way it felt, she'd expected it to be much worse. Feeling more cheerful then she had in a long time, Emily turned on the hot water and stepped into the steam.

Chapter 6: And I Don't Want The World To See Me

The drive to Seattle was as miserable as anticipated, punctuated with a lot of whining and squirming around, Dean and Sam both reminding her more than once that she'd brought this on herself. Emily wasn't able to find one comfortable position on the hard leather seats of the Impala, so she finally ended up rolling up a sweatshirt of Sam's to sit on while Dean smirked at her from his view in the rearview mirror. It took them awhile, they'd found a secluded place to park Bobby's truck, which they'd have to go pick up on the way back, Dean teasing Emily that they'd probably stay at the same hotel and he'd happily tell the concierge that he was her fiancé and make sure they didn't get the nice room upgrade, to which Emily had rolled her eyes, feeling a pang of guilt at the thought of the older man disappointedly waiting for her back at the bar that evening.

Dean and Sam switched off driving, stopping only to eat at a greasy burger joint once, and to refuel at a gas station twice, and when they finally reached the state sign for Oregon, the nervous anticipation that had been fluttering around in Emily's stomach the whole day solidified into a hard block of dread. What was she doing? What was she thinking? A gruesome thought that she'd shoved into the very back of her mind was now piercing her mind at an increasingly vivid state; what if her dad's body was still there? Decaying, rotten, dead, dead, dead. She couldn't verbalize it, afraid that if she opened her mouth to speak that she would vomit. It was only a few hours now, but it was late, really late, and before Dean even said the words, Emily knew that they were going to find a place for the night before they'd venture to her house. Indeed, three hours later they found themselves in a janky little Motel 8 in the heart of Seattle, the man at the front desk leering at the trio with raised eyebrows. Emily rolled her eyes to keep herself from reaching over and punching the disgusting old man, practically able to taste the raunchy thought filling his head. "Any chance of a room with three beds?" Sam broke the fantasy and the old man just gave a lecherous grin.

"Sorry, double's only."

"That's fine," Dean grunted, passing over the fake id and credit card, "we just need one night."

Safely in the room, Emily barely had the strength to climb into what was most definitely not a clean shower before she tumbled into bed, not caring who was going to be sharing it with her, just needing to be alone with her thoughts and feelings so she could come to terms with the fact that they were most definitely there and most assuredly going to be facing a hunt with the creature who killed her dad. The boys sensed that the mood had shifted, and they kept exchanging glances at each other over her head, to the point that Emily finally had enough and snapped, "What?"

Sam sighed and sat on the bed across from hers, his eyes trained on her thoughtfully. "It's just...are you okay? You seem tense. I mean, we all feel a little tense, but you seem...extra tense." Dean snorted on the other side of Emily, where he was lying and playing something on his phone, "that's an understatement," he muttered, eliciting a slap on the arm from Emily. "Hey!"

"I'm fine," she rolled her eyes, before turning her body to face Sam, pretending Dean wasn't there for a moment. "I'm just, I'm just...worried." Her lower lip caught in her teeth and she chewed it for a moment, feeling lost on where to go with it, "I worry what we're gonna find. If my dad...if his body is there. Or if the creature is there. Or if his spirit is there."

The last point had been the most concerning to her, she didn't know if she could handle seeing her father's spirit, but more conflictingly than that, she wanted to see him too. To tell him she was sorry, to tell him goodbye. She didn't say that to the boy in front of her though, that was a thought just for her. "Well, that's the thing Em, do you remember anything about when you came home that night he died? Sulfur? Black smoke? Any kind of smell or tokens left behind? It would really help us prepare if we knew what we're potentially going to be facing."

"No, nothing," Emily told him honestly, feeling the hair on the back of her neck stand up a little. "That's the thing, I didn't feel anything at all. I didn't smell anything. And dad didn't even have a mark on him, no bite marks or stab wounds, nothing outward that I saw. He was just sitting in his chair and his eyes were open. Empty. Like he'd sat down to watch tv and just died. But I know that's not what happened. His face was all messed up, like he'd been screaming." She had to shake the image from her head in order to stop herself from crying. She couldn't. Not now. "I don't know what got him, but whatever it was, it was silent and it was powerful. My dad was too good of a hunter to have been surprised."

Sam's gaze was troubled, clearly he was having as much issue processing what she was telling him as Emily was recalling the details of that night. "That's really strange. I guess we'll see what we're dealing with in the morning."

Dean had been quiet to that point and he didn't make any more noise after. He hadn't moved from his spot, telling Emily that he was claiming that side of the bed, and she didn't argue. She just laid down and closed her eyes and attempted to force herself into sleep, knowing that it wasn't going to come easily.

The next morning was a subdued affair. They got dressed, grabbed coffee from a near by shop, and then piled back into the Impala, Emily guiding them through the bustling, busy traffic of the city with trained precision. Muscle memory. It was painful, being back here. The city was home, but a sad one. It was drizzling lightly that day, the Space Needle looked sad and dingy from her spot in the car, the homeless people lining the streets seemed to have multiplied, the smell in the air was that of smoke and rain and fish and ocean. Depressing. She didn't remember feeling like this before, but now that her dad was gone, it wasn't home. It had never really been. They had pulled away from the busyness of the city, entering more residential neighborhoods now, the apartments and townhomes fading behind them until they reached her house. It was unassuming, painted a muted navy blue among a row of other houses in similar palettes, and as Dean parked, the familiar feeling of dread bubbled inside again. This was it. She was here, she was facing it, she was going finally going to get the revenge she had so desperately sought out. The boys were out of the car first, going to the trunk to unpack their arsenal as best as they could, not knowing exactly what they'd need. But Emily didn't wait for them, her feet seemed to be moving on their own, carrying her step after step up the stoop and to the front door. It looked the same as always. No mail. No neighbors peeking out to find out what was going on. As cold and familiar as always. She ignored the boys behind her yelling at her to wait, and her hand found the doorknob and mechanically, it opened.

There was nothing.

Everything was exactly as it had been before. It smelled musty, and the faint smell of rotting food permeated her nose as well, but nothing else. She found the light switch and the room flooded with electricity, but there was still nothing. She had braced herself for nothing. No spirit flew out, no demon sat in wait, no creature lurked in the floorboards. It was silent in the house. She moved slowly to the living room, her body so tense it hurt, but again, nothing. Her father wasn't there. There was no trace of him, no trace of his body. The TV was off. A moldy cup of coffee sat on the table next to the paper from the day he'd died. It was so surreal and so bizarre that Emily could do nothing but laugh, and she was still laughing when the boys rushed in behind her, looking around for the worst as well.

"There's nothing," she repeated the thought out loud to the two bewildered boys. "Not down here at least." They seemed a little scared by the girl in front of them, the reaction was clearly not what they expected, and they exchanged another not so subtle glance.

"It could still be waiting," Dean told her patiently, his hand finding his pocket which he patted gently. "We don't know it isn't here. You smell anything Sammy?"

Sam had left the room for the kitchen and he just called back, "Nothing but some very green bread, and what may have once been a banana."

Emily headed for the stairs and Dean followed behind, much to her annoyance. "I don't think anything is here, Dean-" the sentence died in her throat as they reached the main bedroom. There, sitting quietly, unblinking, unmoving, was a man. He looked any other man, he was a dark tan, his eyes were brown, his hair was neatly combed, he wore a grey suit that looked both cheap and expensive all at once. Dean acted the quickest, drawing his gun out on the man before Emily could even react, but the man merely turned his gaze to them both, raised a hand, and waved it, sending Dean's gun flying out of his hand and to the wall next to them. Emily's brow furrowed, the fear feeling heavy as she stared at him; she knew him. He was familiar in the way that a dream was, hazy, but there in the deepest core of her subconscious. She opened her mouth to speak, but the man spoke first, his voice was a deep bass that she wasn't expecting.

"You have come," the words were simple. He stood, and they took in how tall he was, and Dean made a move again, trying to go for the gun, which the man stopped with another wave of his hand, pinning Dean to the spot, even as he struggled and swore. Emily ignored him, taking a step towards the man, the same look of bewildered thought on her face clearly. "I am Ezekiel."

Dean stopped swearing then, Sam had entered the room, salt in hand, but he dropped it and merely whispered, "an angel?"

"Almost." The man merely glanced to Sam before continuing. "You know me, girl?" Emily didn't speak, just nodded, and felt the boys eyes land on her. "You should know me. I was there when your mother was taken. I was the one who took your father." She started at that sentence, a furious anger rising in her before she could stop it. "It had to be done. I serve no master, but serve both masters. You were no part of any plan, your mother was needed and so she was taken. Your father was in your way, and so was he taken." This made no sense, but somehow made complete sense, conflicting again. Emily's memory returned, she was four years old and the man was in her room, her mother had come in to kiss her goodnight and he had come out of the shadows, scaring Emily. Her mother had been calm. She had kissed Emily, told her she loved her, and then she had been gone, along with the man. It had been as simple and as final as that. Her father had never understood it, they stayed on the hunt for the man for her whole life, but never found him. Until the man had found her father. "Castiel," the word sounded somehow bitter in his mouth, "serves the man who chose to keep you in the dark. He allowed you to keep this secret. I will not."

He looked to both Dean and Sam then, they were frozen and staring, mouth's agape. "This woman is half angel, half mortal. She was born of the fallen angel Saraphine, who was cast from Heaven when she set her sights on a mortal man and failed a mission in doing so. You have not seen the power she possesses, but you will. Her father was foolish, he knew of his task, what was to be, and he failed. He was to deliver you to John Winchester, ten years ago, as a gift from God and Lucifer, a most rare union, but he was proud. He was stupid. He disobeyed. When he realized that he could not be touched while you were with him, he used you for years as a shield. He used you as a weapon. He reaped your glory for himself all while dodging the inevitable."

No one spoke, no one moved. Emily could not distinguish her emotions from the man's words, but she felt a strange calm, a peace that she hadn't ever felt before since the moment her mother had disappeared and never returned.

"The task is done. So many missteps, but you are where you are meant to be. The Winchester's also possess rare gifts, one's given by both demon and angel, with you beside them, the task of ridding the world's monsters will once again be restored. I come to tell you now, you will not leave these men behind again. Castiel was too kind in his own mission, but I will not be. Do not again squander the task which is set before you."

Ezekiel's speech was finished, and final. The room filled with air as he waved his hand once more and they were set back into motion, and Emily let out the breath she had been holding, and turned to face the boys, her mouth set, her eyes hard. She so resembled the woman they'd first set eyes on months ago, that it took their breath away. The deadness in her expression, the anger. No one spoke until Emily finally broke the silence with an icy, "Now you know. What I am. Who I am."

She didn't know where the rage came from, but it spilled over as hot and quick as the tears streaming down her face. "My father died, my mother died, all because of you. All because I'm meant to be some prized pig for whatever Hunter is deemed most worthy." She spat the words so venomously that Dean flinched, Sam frozen in place. "Get out. Get OUT!" She shoved them both towards the door, they didn't fight her, just stumbled backwards into the hallway where she promptly slammed the door and sank to the floor with her head in her hands, her sobs filling the quietness.

 

Sam and Dean left Emily in the empty room, both of them still catching their breaths from what had just happened moments ago. Dean was tense, Sam was tense, the atmosphere of the house was tense. It felt like a bomb had just been detonated but neither man could fully wrap their head's around the declaration. When they reached the living room, safely out of ear shot, that's when they both began to speak, their voices low and frenzied, fighting to get through their points before Emily decided to rejoin them.

"She's a Nephilim," Sam's jaw was tight, Dean could see the muscle twitching beneath it. "We should've seen the signs, Dean, this whole time I knew there was something about her that seemed..."

"Familiar?" Dean finished the thought for him, rubbing his own hand over his face. "Of course we should've seen it, that glow she gets when she feels like there's danger around, the beauty, the fact that Jack Parker was holding her like a hostage for her whole life until the moment he croaks and she falls into our lap. Why wouldn't Cass tell us? This is big news. This is...this is dangerous."

A protective spark shot through him at the realization of what this all meant. A Nephilim was dangerous, dangerous because they were meant to hunt and trap demons but also because in return they were hunted as well. "He said, he said she's a shield?" Dean's eyes squinted as he tried to work out what that meant. "That her dad couldn't be touched when they were together, so that means that she-"

It was Sam's turn to cut him off, he'd clearly already worked through all of this and it's meaning. "She kept him safe until she didn't. It means that he failed her because he didn't train her. She should've been hunting demons from the time she could walk, but instead they just kind of used her as some sort of human shield. At this point, she should be the most powerful Hunter in the world, but instead she's more mortal than angel. He definitely did her no favors."

"I get why," Dean argued, his voice still tight. "He didn't want her to be in the life the way he was. He may have been selfish, but can you imagine what he was feeling? Losing the mother of his child to God, or Lucifer, or whoever took her away, then the thought they may come back for his daughter too? Or him? Training her would mean losing her to the fight."

They were silent for a moment as Dean's words hung in the air. The fight. The same fight they'd been on for the last few years, and now they had a weapon.

"It's ironic, isn't it?" Sam broke through with a small laugh. "She's half angel, half human, I'm part demon, you're part weapon of God. She couldn't have ended up with a more fitting family."

"Probably why she was meant to come with us and dad before. Jack wasn't keeping his end of the bargain and they saw it. I wonder what happened that day we met her on the hunt," Dean furrowed his brow again, wishing he'd asked more questions. "I'll tell ya one thing though Sammy," it was his turn to let out a small, bitter laugh. "I'm gonna kick Castiel's ass when we see him again."

They spent the rest of the day in the house, Emily packing quietly upstairs, the boys leaving her be as they cleaned up downstairs. Anything of value was put in the back of the Impala, mostly weapons and demon traps they found, and then Emily finally came down with a few suitcases in tow, her clothes in one, toiletries and mementos in the other, and the third holding what was in the safe, pictures of her mom, her dad's journal, and the rest of his money, the boys didn't say anything, just took them from her and packed them too. She didn't speak to the boys, there was too much swirling around in her head, too much anger, too much resentment, too many emotions surrounding the secret that had been finally revealed to them under less than ideal circumstances. She didn't want to know what they thought, didn't want to hear their stammering around about whatever she was, she just wanted to go. She didn't care where they went, as long as it was away from this house.

"Ready?" Sam finally approached her, his hands in his pockets, a sheepish expression on his face. She surveyed him coolly, adopting the defense she'd been using ever since she was a child, ice queen extraordinaire.

"Yep," one word, clipped and tight, before she turned on her heel and left the house behind, going down the steps without even a look backwards. She got in the Impala, shut the door behind her, and got onto her phone.

"So the brat's returned," Dean rolled his eyes, shutting the door behind him and Sam for the final time. "This will be a helluva ride back." The two sighed and glanced to the car where Emily sat sullenly, not looking at either of them. "At least I know now why she gets under my skin so much," he grinned at Sam and jostled him with his shoulder, "and why you've been so buddy buddy with her. Your demon side doesn't want to get his ass kicked."

Sam gave him a look that clearly said to shut it, and Dean just laughed again, heading down to join their now permanent companion in the car and begin the long trip home.

It had been a week of attitude. A week since they'd returned back to the bunker. A week since they'd stopped at Bobby's to fill him in on what was happening, while Emily sat in the car with the same sullen, bored expression on her face that had barely budged since Seattle. Bobby was gracious, he reminded the boys of what a precarious position she was in, that finding out her whole life had been one big "fuck you" basically. It was more than that, though, it was that her dad had lied. Her life had been a lie. Her purpose? A lie. Emily had known what she was, she'd known what her mom was, her dad had never kept that a secret, he spoke about her mom often and with a reverence that only a man in love could hold. The angel's had never visited her either, but she supposed, no she knew now that her dad had been visited. He hadn't told her. He had never told her anything. He kept her safe and sound, locked up, by his side, and she had never known her true purpose or why she was there. Why she couldn't ever be normal. Her dad had been a good man, he had always been kind, he had loved her fiercely, but he had lied to her. So had Castiel. So had the Winchester's dad. No one had ever bothered to clue her in until the Angel had visited and shattered every illusion she had of being free. Of being her own person.

Nephilim. The word played in her mind again and again, turning over and over like a broken record. Demon Hunter. Shadow Hunter. Whatever you wanted to call it, that was what she was. And she was so wholly, wholly unprepared for it. So she remained withdrawn and cold to her companions, not speaking unless absolutely necessary, shutting herself back up in her room, it was like back to the first week she'd been there. She had so much emotional baggage to unpack that she couldn't even begin to figure out where to start with it, and so she just shoved it away, out of her mind, out of her sight. It didn't exist.

"I'm SICK of this!" Dean finally lost it their fifth night back, Emily moodily pushing food around with her fork as they sat at yet another silent meal. Both her and Sam looked up at the outburst, Sam's eyes concerned, Emily's dead. "You!" He threw his fork down and pointed at her, and she stared back, unflinching. "Are going to stop this shit right now, do you hear me?" His voice was rising, but it didn't phase her, and Sam tried to diffuse the situation, looking between the pair with a sort of desperate urgency.

"Hey we don't need to yel-"

"Shut it, Sam!" Dean snapped, and he stood, sharply knocking his chair backwards, the air going silent except for the clattering of the wood hitting the ground. Emily stared at her plate, then calmly set her fork down and pushed her own chair back to stand as well.

"Goodnight," she didn't even make it around the table before Dean was on her, his hand wrapped firmly around her arm, dragging her back with him. She didn't fight him, didn't make another sound, even as Sam's voice cut through the air to argue with Dean, pleading with him to let her go and let it go, but Dean didn't, of course he didn't. It was like being in a dream, Emily could feel them moving, but it was slow motion, she didn't feel his hand on her arm, she didn't feel her feet carrying her toward her room, the boys' voices were drowned out in her ears, the scene was blurry. She closed her eyes and let herself fall into the haze of it all, let her body be pushed across his knees, let the feeling of the air on her ass as he bared her pass by, listened to the dull sound of flesh smacking upon flesh, but she felt nothing. So lost in the realms of her depression, all Emily could do was lay there limply, no sound escaping her lips, no fight in her at all. She just closed her eyes and breathed.

Dean was so enraged and so confused that he didn't know which emotion was stronger as he whaled on Emily's backside, but what he did know was that this wasn't normal. She wasn't doing anything but lying there, even the Emily that got her ass beat the first night they met had put up a hefty fight, so what was this? Dean stopped, letting himself catch his breath and get his anger in check. This wasn't getting him anywhere, wherever Emily had disappeared too, his anger wasn't going to drag her back from.

"Em," he lowered his voice to a gentle murmur, felt her tense below him, the first response he'd gotten from her in a week. "Em, come on. You can't do this, you can't keep doing this, you have to talk to me." She didn't respond, didn't move, but the muscles in her back rippled beneath his arm so he knew she was at least listening. "You can't just shut us out, Emily. We're here and we're here to stay. You need to get it into your thick skull that we're your family now. We know what you're going through, but we can't do anything if you sit around here moping day in and day out." She crossed one ankle over the other, and he knew that his words were finally making an impression. He raised his hand, determined to keep her attention and get her where she needed to be, spanking slowly and methodically as he did so, "I'm not leaving you. Sam isn't leaving you. Your dad did a really shitty thing to you, but you can't hold onto it alone. You need help, Emily. You need to tell us what's going on," he didn't stop spanking, watching really closely for her reactions, for any movement or sound that would let him know she was taking it in.

Emily's mind was a mess, but his words were making it through the fog, family, here, help, alone, all of them swirled into the haze, and she drew in a deep breath as she found herself letting go of the defenses she was holding so tightly onto. The moment she did so, the spanking began to permeate her senses, and she clenched, letting out a small gasp. Dean obviously felt it, heard her, and the spanking got a little harder in response.

"Tell me what's going on, Emily, let it out. Scream, cry, do what you need to do, but we're not. Going. Anywhere." She flinched at the words, all punctuated with a sharp slap to her sore rear. "You're one of us, Emily. You're special. You have a great task ahead of you, and Sam and I are going to help you through it. Because that's what families do, we look out for each other, we help each other, we take care of each other. And I can't take care of you when you shut me out like this."

There were sniffles now, small and quiet at first, but as the spanking continued and Dean's voice beat as steadily into her brain as his hand did on her ass, the curtain was lifted on her. Emily's defenses all but disappeared and she began to cry. Family. Her anger, her sadness, her feelings of betrayal and emptiness, all of it came flooding out and she did nothing but sob, her heart broken. Dean slowed the spanking down, letting her cry for as long as she needed, and when he felt her crumble beneath him, he stopped entirely, pulling her up from her position so he could hold her while she let the tears flow freely.

"I-I-I hate him," she could barely get a coherent word out, but Dean didn't interrupt her or ask her questions, he just held her and let her get the rasping, bitter words out. "I hate that he did this, I hate that I can't ever be normal, I hate that he lied to me. I hate him. I hate him! And I hate you for coming, I hate you for taking me, I hate you for being who you are." Dean's hand remained firm on her back, he didn't flinch at her words, he didn't spit anything back to her, or pull away. "I don't want to be this, Dean. I don't want to be this thing that I am! I don't want any of it. I just want to die," the word was so strong that it almost knocked his breath out, and before she even knew what was happening she found herself flipped back over his thigh, his knee digging into her stomach as he began to spank her again, much to her chagrin.

"No!" His voice was loud now, an almost panicked edge to it that Emily hadn't ever heard before. "Don't EVER say that! Don't you ever wish for something that horrible, Emily, you have no idea what that means. What it means to actually die."

His voice cracked and his hand faltered over the reddened globes, feeling the tightness in his chest growing to an unbearable throb. "You were put here for a reason, because Sam and I need you." He steadied himself and listened to the girl begin to cry again, though he didn't let up on her just yet. "Because we need each other. God doesn't make mistakes, Emily, if he did you would've never found us. That day would've never come."

He stopped again and Emily pushed herself from his knees to the ground below him, her big blue eyes fixed on his face, her cheeks flushed at his words and all of the emotions that were spilling between the two of them. Without thinking, Dean gripped her arms and pulled her to stand with him, and with no further warning, he crushed his lips to hers. Emily didn't pull away, she froze for a half second before it registered in her mind what was happening, and she returned his kiss, her hand coming to rest against the stubbled jaw, her eyes closing. He pulled away, his hand coming to the wrist still resting against his face, and they stared at each other silently, the passion burning in her eyes so brightly that it almost hurt. Dean didn't think any longer, he let his body respond instead, no longer wasting any time as he pulled her shirt above her head and let it fall to the ground beside her jeans and underwear so she was naked again, that glorious body his for the taking. And take it he did.

Chapter 7: Why Don't You Be You and I'll Be Me

Dean's body was rock hard on top of hers, the muscles rippling through his arms and stomach and back in a way that didn't seem human, Emily had seen him before without his shirt, but she'd never appreciated it so much, how chiseled he was. He moved her where he wanted her with ease, his touch was soft but firm, demanding, all man; raw and confident and so, so delicious. Emily shivered in anticipation, one leg hooked around his waist to keep him pulled into her, her arms still wrapped around his neck, his lips finding her own, traveling down her collarbone, up her throat, to her ear, to her breasts. He didn't let up, one hand splayed below her back to keep her upright and against him, his other hand fisted into the bedsheet below them. The way he was worshipping her body was so surreal, it seemed unlike him. She'd expected him to be rough, all dom, the way he was in real life. As they moved against each other, finding their rhythm easily, it just felt so right that Emily could barely believe it was real. His dick was as large as she'd anticipated, the initial shock of pain with the first thrust wore off almost immediately as her body reacted to his, molding against him. They were both breathing hard, but neither of them stopped moving, delaying the inevitable as long as possible. She moaned into his ear and she could feel him tighten beneath her, the swell of his cock sliding into her slick folds told her that he was close. The whole encounter took less than fifteen minutes, fast and frantic, passionate in a way that only lovers who felt they didn't have time could be. He never stopped touching her, he never let his lips leave her body, he never stopped whispering her name, as she groaned out his in return. It was spiritual, intoxicating, Emily could feel her own orgasm building, and Dean let her fall to the bed, bringing one long finger down to find her sensitive bud and roll it between his fingers expertly, never letting up the thrusts, bringing his mouth to her nipple and sucking. She felt herself spill over, her walls tightened again, her hands coming to his back and digging into his flesh as they came together in the last throes of ecstasy.

Dean rolled over next to her, still breathing hard, his arm beneath her neck. Neither of them spoke or moved for a long few minutes. What had felt so right, only moments before, now felt...confused. What had they done? Emily was brought back to reality sharply, and she sat up, holding the sheet up to her chest as she turned to look at him. "Oh Dean," she forced herself out of bed, the stickiness between her thighs that also stained her sheets felt heavy, her core still throbbing from the aftermath of what had happened. "Oh...oh this was not supposed to happen." It was crashing around her, the weight of their deed heavy in the air. This was not a part of the plan, never was it a part of the plan. This was so much different from seducing a demon for a kill, or a quick fuck with a random stranger to satisfy a need and then never see them again. This was Dean, the Neanderthal who spanked her any time she looked at him wrong, the man who was all brawn and very little brains, who ate three bacon cheeseburgers a day and washed it down with a half bottle of whiskey. Dean who she was stuck with until the day one of them died. Dean, who she was gifted too. What had they done?

Dean propped himself up on his elbows, the sleepy expression on his face turning to one of concern. "Are you okay?" Well, she hadn't expected that response.

"Am I okay?" She repeated, bringing a hand to her face and groaning lowly. "Dean, we just slept together. I mean...what does this mean? What were we thinking?"

"You were not."

A voice cut through the air, startling them both badly enough that Dean actually fell off the other side of her bed. It would've been comical if they weren't both naked and sweaty and still wearing the evidence of their shame. "Castiel!" Dean's voice was sharp as he stood, a pillow clutched over his groin to hide himself. "Fuck man! What did we talk about? Boundaries!"

The Angel merely cocked his head at him curiously and gave a shrug. "Boundaries," he repeated, his voice calm and low, as it always was. Emily clutched the sheet tighter to herself, watching him closely as he looked between the two of them. "I do not think it is I who needs a lesson in boundaries," a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth and Emily snorted, catching the joke a few seconds before Dean did. "This was not an original part of our plan, but I suppose God does work in mysterious ways."

Dean sighed, coming around the bed to retrieve his boxers and pants as Castiel moved from the corner to the center of the room. "What are you doing here, Cass?" Emily moved while Dean did, still unsure of how she felt, or what she should feel, so many emotions were coursing through the room that it was hard to separate any of them.

"I came to check on you. I know that Ezekiel made an appearance, God was not too pleased to hear that," he lifted his eyes to the ceiling in disdain at the fallen angel's name. "Emily, you have learned a great deal about yourself, more I'd say then your counterparts have learned about you," he cocked a brow and Emily pulled her shirt over her head and went to sit, delicately ignoring the semen stained sheets as she did so. "God wished me to relay the message of the mission. Emily is a very powerful weapon, should she choose to continue honing her skills and assisting you in your hunts, you may very well find a reward at the end of this all."

End of this all? What did that mean? Castiel must have read the confusion in her eyes as he quickly corrected himself, "There are and always will be jobs to be done."

"So you just came down here to check on us, and you just happened to choose the moment we were done having sex?" Dean's voice was a low growl, and Cass put his hands up, arranging his features into a look Emily surmised was supposed to resemble sheepishness.

"I did not know that you were copulating," he seemed pained at the word. "It had appeared you had been disciplining her moments before."

Emily's cheeks flushed furiously and she stood up to square off with the Angel, hands on her hips. "Quit spying on us, Cass! Cant you call like a normal...person? Angel? Whatever you are?" The tension lifted again as both Dean and Cass laughed, and even Emily had to smile at the ridiculousness of it all. "Okay, okay, get out of here Cass."

He was gone before she'd even finished her sentence and Emily found herself left with Dean again, eyeing him carefully. "Look, I don't...I don't want this to be weird," she gestured between them, unsure of exactly what she wanted. "I don't know what happened, but this wasn't supposed to be it. Unless, unless you..." She trailed off and he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Emily, I don't know." He said after a beat, his cheeks pinkening a little at the intimacy. "I care for you, a lot. You've really grown into this family, and I can't lie and tell you that I haven't thought about this happening between us more then I probably should. But you're here for the long haul. I haven't had a relationship that's lasted more then a week since...since ever, really. This could be complicated. It will probably be messy. It's not gonna change anything between us, though. Because we can't let it." He was better articulating her feelings then she cared to admit, and was slightly surprised by the insight he provided. Unless this was a common speech for him. "Maybe we just..." he paused, rubbing his neck again. "Maybe we just stew on it. Not talk about it until you're ready to make a decision."

A decision. Emily rolled the word in her mind, staring at him hard. This was Dean, who she'd seen flirt with more women then she'd thought humanly possible. Dean who lived on beer and junk food. Dean who picked up and packed up with no hesitation. Dean who'd probably broken more hearts than she'd ever know. Her kindred spirit. Emily knew what it was like in this life, and so did he. The confusion growing, she finally shook her head and gave him a wan smile. "Yeah, you're right. This is a lot to take in. Let's just call it a mistake for now, and...and we'll see."

The weirdness was flowing heavily in the room and all Emily could do was break it apart with a small shrug. "Well, I'll tell you one thing, Dean Winchester," she said over her shoulder as she headed to the bathroom to turn the shower on. "You won't be spanking my ass anymore if I was your girl."

Dean laughed, short and intense, and he sauntered to her, resting his hand on the doorframe of the bathroom as he leaned down to look her straight in the eyes. "Oh sweetheart," he smiled wolfishly, "that doesn't stop just cause you got in my pants." He winked and dropped a kiss to her forehead before disappearing from her room almost as quickly as Castiel had. Emily shook her head again, feeling dazed and drained from everything that had happened in the past half hour. All she knew for certain was that this was going to be exactly what they had both admitted too.

Messy.

 

 

Chapter 8: So Wake Me Up When It's All Over

They didn't talk about it again.

A few weeks had passed since they'd slept together, and neither of them brought it up, or looked much at each other, or spoke really. Emily had been a bit of a mess the first few days afterward, avoiding Dean at all costs, making excuses to spend most of her time with Sam instead. If Sam knew, he didn't give any inclination that he did, and bless him for it because Emily was not ready for that conversation. Dean let it go, much like Sam he gave no inclination that anything had happened, he spent some time gathering inventory of their weapons and talking to Bobby on the phone for potential leads. They began leaving the bunker more, going to a few local jobs where the boys could test out what it meant to bring her along, easy stuff that Emily knew was for their benefit more than hers, before the time came for them to get back on the road. Emily was a bit sad to leave the bunker behind, but at the same time, there was a great sense of freedom in the idea of traveling. She knew the boys had been stunned by the implications of her on hunts, seeing her work was something of an art. They made their kills easily, all it took was a raise of her hand and the creatures couldn't touch them, no matter what they tried. Demon's were trickier because there was an attraction there, dark and dangerous, under the surface, a tense and delicate balance. They were fascinated by her, and she by them. She could feel when they were in a room, all she had to do was take a deep breath and their scent would hit her and she could point them out. Of course Dean and Sam had their own way of hunting, brute strength and wit, they took pride in their fights and their weapons, and it was thrilling to watch them in action. Her dad had always been straightforward, find the evil, get it alone, kill it, be gone. With the boys, they liked to fight, they liked to hunt, to stalk and be satisfied with a good day's work. It was very different to have Emily there. Boring almost.

But now they were back on the road full time. Cases came in and they went. Town to town, motel to motel, they all blurred together after awhile. And still, Emily and Dean didn't talk. Only when necessary, only when Sam was around. Dean hadn't laid a hand on her, but she hadn't given him much reason to either, and without even realizing it, Emily found herself starting to miss it. She missed bossy Dean, she missed when he cared enough to haul her over his knee, she missed touching him and smelling him, the thought of his lips on her neck haunted her dreams, and she woke up in a cold sweat most nights now. It was worse when they had cases that involved women, pretty women, plain women, women with uncomplicated lives beyond the random horror that brought them to their town, ones that Dean flirted shamelessly with, who so often he'd disappear with for a few hours. It made her blood boil, jealousy would course through her veins and she would have to disappear herself, to calm down.

It went on like that for three weeks.

And then they had made it to Rhode Island, a small town that had popped onto Sam's radar that seemed to be having a problem with a Poltergeist. The town was on the coast, the smell of salt sea air, fish, and sun, it all reminded her so much of Washington that she ached, but she didn't let it show. They found a cute bed and breakfast that had two rooms available and checked in, allowing time to clean themselves up and then reconvene downstairs to talk about the case. That was when the trouble started. Trouble's name was Cindy, or Cynthia, or something with "sin" in it and Emily knew right away that she was just Dean's type. She was the oldest daughter of the elderly couple who'd been having trouble with the house she had moved them into, and she was sweet, tall and blonde, with striking cheekbones and pretty brown eyes. She had looked the three of them over, and her eyes had lingered on Emily inquisitively, trying to size up her competition, or potential threat, and Dean had noticed and smirked. "This is my brother, Sam," he'd introduced them one by one, "and I'm Dean, and this is my sister, Emily." The word "sister" had made the woman relax visibly, and from there, she'd been much warmer to them all, and especially to Dean.

Emily could feel the anger boiling.

Cindy-Cynthia flirted shamelessly as she showed them around the town and then took them to the house where her parent's lived. "We just don't know what it could be," she was telling Dean, the pair of them a few steps ahead of Sam and Emily. Sam could feel the tension rolling off of the girl next to him, and he reached over to put a casual arm around her shoulders, giving her arm an affectionate, but warning squeeze. "Relax," he whispered in her ear, and Emily knew she was caught and, embarrassed, dropped the attitude. She barely concentrated on anything the rest of the day, even as she felt the spirit in the house, as the boys made up a story about why the family needed to leave for a night or two so they could "fumigate," then it spilled over when Cindy-Cynthia asked Dean to dinner and he said yes.

That's when she began stewing.

That night, when Dean had returned and it was time to go take care of the spirit in the house, Emily had been rising from jealous annoyance to jealous anger. It rolled off of her in waves as she sat in the back of Impala sullenly, Sam and Dean chatting obliviously up front until they reached the old coastal home and it was time to put the plan in action. Emily would draw the poltergeist out, and hold it so Dean and Sam could dispose of it. Easy-peasy, a job that would take mere minutes if they were lucky. But all Emily could think about was Dean touching that woman, Dean smiling at her, flirting with her, kissing her on their date. The anger rose. They entered the house and Dean smiled back at her and nodded towards the stairs and Emily went, one foot after the other, until she reached it. She could smell the spirit and it took nothing to hold up her hand and make him appear. Dean and Sam approached, ready to go in for the kill, and that was when Emily turned around, dropped her hand, and left the room. She heard the thud as the poltergeist, knowing it was released from it's bond, attacked. Heard the surprised yell from Sam, and then the sound of a scuffle as they tried to figure out where the spirit was since they couldn't see it. She listened for a few, long moments as the Poltergeist did his thing, and then she re-entered to assess the damage. Both boys were bleeding, Dean from his mouth and brow, Sam from a nasty gash on his forehead, and Emily figured they'd had enough and held her hand up again. Immediately, the spirit's form appeared and before either boy had time to react, she stepped towards the ghost and disposed of it herself.

"What the HELL?" Dean's voice rose above the sudden silence, Sam was panting hard, holding a hand up to the blood now running into his eye. Emily ignored Dean and went to the taller brother, feeling bad that he'd been collateral damage to the lesson she'd wanted to teach the hotheaded slut behind her, pulling a rag from her pocket so she could dab at his wound. "Emily!" Dean's voice was sharp and as he seemed to recover from the beating he'd just taken, he came at her, grabbing her arm to force her to face him. "I asked you a question! What the hell was that? Why?"

She wrenched her arm from his grasp, her stare cold and her voice just as icy, "What? You can't handle a little old Poltergeist without me? You wanted a little excitement, didn't you? Well you're welcome." The fake smile he hated so much touched her pretty little mouth as she turned around, and Dean saw red.

"Of course we could handle it!" He roared and even Sam winced at the sound, still dabbing his wound with the rag Emily had provided. "But that wasn't part of the plan, you little bitch!" His hand shot out again and Emily was barely fast enough to avoid his grab, spinning to face him with venom in her eyes now.

"Oh, but Cynthia was part of the plan?" She hissed back, all of the anger boiling over now. "Or Erika? Or Annie? Or Denise? Were they all "part of the plan" you selfish prick?"

Sam's eyes were wide and he stared between the two of them with such confusion that it was almost comical. "Wait, what is going on here?" He cut in, raising an eyebrow at Dean who's eyes were practically bugging out of his head in rage. "Emily, are you...are you jealous?" He almost choked on the words and the implication hung heavy in the air between the three of them as Emily let out a loud, derisive snort.

"Jealous? God no, you can whore yourself out to whoever you want," she spat the words at Dean before pushing past the two of them towards the door. "You don't mean anything to me," she pointed at Dean who's shoulders were heaving in what was an apparent effort not to reach out and punch her. "And you needed a reminder of that."

And without another word, she was gone.

"I'm going to kill her." Dean breathed out to a still very confused Sam.

 

Alone in the kitchen downstairs, Emily had a moment alone to catch her breath and think about what had just happened. What she'd just done.

Fuck, what did I just do?

The weight of her bad decision weighed heavily now, and it seemed just so, so stupid. What if they had gotten really hurt? What if the spirit had disappeared and the job was ruined? And Sam, Sam hadn't deserved that. When had she gone from a girl who didn't care about anyone or anything, who used and discarded boys like they were nothing, who never got attached, to this? To this jealous, spoiled thing that didn't resemble her at all. She was embarrassed, she realized. Her behavior had been embarrassing, and worst of all, Dean had given her an opportunity to tell him how she felt and she hadn't taken it. It wasn't his fault that she had made no moves again, that she'd given no inkling of anything being between them. "Fuck," she mumbled into her hand, leaning against the counter and closing her eyes, trying to slow her breathing down and organize her thoughts.

"Fuck is right."

Startled, Emily whirled around to find Dean, angrier then she'd seen him in a long time, standing at the door of the kitchen, the dim lighting pooling at his feet ominously. His arms were crossed, he'd obviously tried to wipe the blood from his mouth away because it was smeared over his chin in a way that was somehow hot AND crazy looking, he was breathing as hard as she had been only moments ago, but Emily knew it wasn't because he was tired, it was because he was trying to get his anger under control.

"Dean, look, let me explain-" her voice was desperate as she pushed off the counter to take a few steps toward him, and to her surprise, he didn't reach out and grab her.

"Then explain," his voice was a low, deep growl, his stance tense and tight, unmoving. Emily blinked, caught off guard by his response. She opened her mouth again, but words didn't come out, her thoughts had re-tangled into a mess of emotion and he helped her out by holding a hand up with one long finger extended. "No, don't explain it. Don't explain to me why you had the genius idea to spring a poltergeist trap on Sam and I with no warning. Don't explain why you've been stomping around like a little bitch on her rag for the past two weeks. Don't explain why you've barely spoken three words to me that haven't pertained to a hunt. Don't explain anything, Emily, because nothing you say is gonna save your ass from the whuppin' I'm about to give it."

He stepped into the kitchen fully, and the light moved behind him, and Emily was once again reminded of the sheer size of him, how tall and broad he was, he overwhelmed her. She stepped back in the same time he stalked forward, feeling very much like prey, and she grasped for words to calm him down, to make things better, to right the wrong.

"Dean, I-I didn't mean for you to get...I shouldn't have done that, Dean, I'm so sorry, I'm sorry!" Her voice was a mere squeak, so high and breathy and desperate that it made him stop for a second and fix her in his gaze fully. Clearly, he was not expecting an apology, much less one that came this early on.

"You're sorry you're about to get spanked, Em, you're not sorry for what you did," his expression hardened and she swallowed hard, her own back finding the counter edge, nowhere left to go. He broke eye contact to look around the kitchen, and his gaze fixed on something behind her, and Emily dared to glance behind herself to see what it was, gulping as she realized what he was so intent on. A cannister of cooking utensils was sitting there on the counter, so mundane and unassuming to the normal eye, yet Emily knew right away what he was going for. A long, thick wooden spoon poked up from the center, and as quickly as she had spotted it, Dean had reached her, trapping her against the counter as he reached behind her shoulder to pluck it from it's place. "This'll do the trick, I think."

"Dean," Emily tried again, her hands coming to his chest in a last ditch effort for clemency. He looked down, his green eyes still hard, the blood beginning to dry beneath his nose and chin that gave him an even fiercer look then he normally had. "I'm really sorry."

His gaze softened, so minutely that she would've missed it if she hadn't been so attuned to his moods by now. "I know you are, but it doesn't make what you did right. And you're not forgiven until you've atoned." The line was so Cas and so very unlike his normal vocabulary that it would've almost been comical if he hadn't still been wielding the giant spoon in his grasp. With that hanging in the air between them, he brought his free hand up to her wrist, her hand still flattened on his hard chest, and tugged it down, turning to pull her towards the table in the center of the room, where he expertly kicked a wooden chair out from it's spot and sat, pulling her to his side all in one swift movement.

He dropped the spoon onto the table and then turned his full attention to the girl beside him, his hand still wrapped around her wrist, although this time she wasn't fighting him. That wasn't lost on him, he could see as he stared into her face that she felt genuinely bad about what she'd done, but it didn't change anything. He sighed, dropping her wrist so he could hook his thumb into the waistband of her leggings and tug them down her slim hips. She didn't move, and she didn't make eye contact any longer, her cheeks taking on the pretty blush they always did when she was in this position. He was guiding her over his lap when Sam entered the kitchen, still holding a rag to his head wound, looking slightly dazed and worse for the wear. Emily bit her lip as she looked to him, blushing even deeper red at him seeing her like this, despite that he'd put her in this exact scenario before. It didn't get easier.

"Dean's got every right to do this," Sam's voice was gentle, but there was a definite edge beneath it as Emily gave a small sniffle and looked down at the floor, humiliated. "And when we get back to the bed and breakfast, we'll be having our own discussion. Understood?" Emily didn't speak for a moment until Dean gave her right thigh a hard, warning tap.

"Yes sir," she ground out between clenched teeth, unable to fathom that this was going to cost her two spankings in one day. Was it worth it? Absolutely not. It never was.

"Good, I'm gonna make sure everything is clear here and then I'll be in the car." Emily didn't watch him leave, she had buried her face back into her hands and tried shifting slightly, the pressure of Dean's knees digging into her ribcage and pelvis making it impossible to get comfortable. Which she knew was the point.

Sensing that they were alone, she listened as Dean started up his usual lecture, his voice still sharp and low as he began the spanking on her panty-clad rear. The smacks were crisp and measured, he didn't let up or pause for a full minute, during which Emily managed to keep still and only whimper as the familiar slow heat crept into her nether regions. "Putting us in danger will always end in this position, Emily Sarah Parker. You can be as pissed off as you want, but this ain't acceptable."

He had paused at that point to pull her underwear down, bracing himself for the sight of her glorious ass the same as he always had to do. It never failed to impress him how beautiful she was, now was no exception, even after being beat to hell by the angry spirit, he could still appreciate a beautiful butt when he saw one. The spanking resumed, Emily's little sounds getting louder and more frantic as the spanking began to sink in and really burn. It had been awhile, the pain had faded in her memory, now it was the forefront, and she couldn't stop herself from wiggling a bit, crossing her ankles back and forth as if it would somehow lessen the pain, which of course it didn't. She bit down on her lip and groaned as she tasted blood, her hands coming down to rest flat on the floor and try to steady herself. Dean could feel the shift in the room and he upped the spanking, faster and harder now, another minute back and forth until a steady red glow began to shine through. He knew he needed to pace himself, although he and Sam hadn't talked about it, the steady threat that Sam would be getting his own pound of flesh from her hung in the back of his mind, and the male part of him flared at the idea of his brother touching her like he was. It was, of course, fair. But it didn't make it any easier to stomach.

Emily's cries were becoming more frequent and Dean stopped again, running his calloused hand gently over her very warm cheeks, letting her calm down a little so he could finish up. She deserves this, he reminded himself firmly, patting her butt gently to let her know that she needed to ready herself. "This is really disappointing, Em," his gravelly voice entered her head again, and she sniffed, bringing one of her hands to wipe the snot from her nose and brace herself again. She knew what was coming, and so did he. "Give me your hand," he ordered her firmly, reaching behind himself to grab the spoon, waiting for her to comply. She was confused, but obeyed him, her arm shaking slightly as she did. He threaded his fingers through hers and brought their entwined hands to rest on her lower back, and his voice softened again as he tapped the heavy wood against her flaming behind. "I don't want you to reach back while I spank you, if I get your hand with this, it'd really hurt," his voice was soft again and he even chuckled a little as if a memory had reached him, "trust me, I know from experience. My old bitch of a babysitter wielded one of these often." If she hadn't been so miserable, she might've laughed too, but none of what he said made her feel better. She sniffled again, and he squeezed her hand assuredly. "Do you deserve this spanking sweetheart?"

It never got easier to answer that question, it never got easier to try to talk while she was in a position like this. It was never less humiliating or less of a shock. "Y-yes sir," she mumbled, her face blushing deep red again. She felt him lift the spoon and she tried to breathe through it as it began to fall, quick as lightning, striking over and over and over, barely allowing her to catch her breath. Every time he used something on her, every new instrument of torture, it was always a different pain, one she couldn't get used to. The spoon was no different. It was hard and unyielding, it was a concentrated pain in one small little circle, it almost felt itchy if it hadn't burned so much. She couldn't hold the tears in as he kept on spanking, she lost count quickly and surrendered into the pain of it, kicking and squirming as the spoon continued to flash up and down with loud, pronounced SPLATS. She didn't know how long he spanked her for, it wasn't as bad as it had been the night in the hotel, but it certainly was no walk in the park, and she knew that he was going a little easy because Sam was going to be spanking her again. Just the thought of another spanking on her flaming rear made her sob harder, and she begged and begged for him to stop until her voice was hoarse and the snot was flowing freely to the floor. That was when Dean let up, tossing the spoon back to the table to give her a second to embrace the pain and get the last of her tears out. When she had finally relaxed, he gently helped her back to her feet and pulled her underwear and leggings back up over her hips to retain her dignity. She was a mess, but he always thought she just looked so pretty when she was crying like this. So innocent. So unlike herself.

"Shh shh," he soothed, standing up to give her a comforting hug. He rubbed her back softly, and she hiccupped a few times before she pulled herself away to look up at him. Her bottom lip was jutted out slightly, her face still pink and stained with tears, and all he wanted to do was lean down and kiss her, to bite that perfect little pout and listen to her moan. But he didn't. She reached back and rubbed her throbbing ass with one hand, the other swiping at her eyes. "It's done. Whatever you were thinking, whatever I did that made you mad enough to think that was a good idea, it's over."

"I know." She bit her lip again, worrying the skin between her teeth as she thought of what to say. "It wasn't a good idea, and I'm sorry. I...I was just mad. I'm really sorry, Dean, I really am."

She was like a small child seeking approval from her parents, and his heart tugged a little at the sound of it. He didn't push her, both of them were spent and it wasn't going to be long before she found herself in this position again, he was fairly certain that round two with Sam would be getting her talking, if nothing else did. "It's okay," he offered, giving her a smile and pulling her back to wrap his arm around her small shoulders and lead her towards the door. "It's over, right? Slate clean. New start. Let's get out of here."

Chapter 9: All I Am Is A Man

The ride home was, to say the least, tense. Dean was obviously trying to lighten the mood, he cracked jokes, tried to engage Sam in conversation, even turned on Sam's favorite station. It was odd, seeing him try to go to bat for her, and Emily would've felt flattered, or relieved even, if it hadn't been her ass on the line, literally. But it didn't work. Sam had been on the phone when they'd returned to the car, letting Cynthia-Cyndi that it was safe for her parents to return to their home and to call anytime there were any other problems. When Emily had buckled up and tried desperately to shift the weight off of her sore ass, Sam had given her a hard glance in the rearview mirror, the bloodied rag pressed to his head a little tighter, and it made her stop in her tracks. He was pissed. She didn't think she'd ever seen Sam honest to god angry, and it was unsettling. She quit fidgeting, wisely choosing to keep her mouth shut on the ten minute drive back to the B&B, and even Dean eventually saw his attempts at peace weren't working and he stopped talking too, glancing to the miserable girl in the rearview mirror with a shrug and apologetic expression.

"Why don't you take Emily to get food," Sam finally spoke when they'd pulled up to the small farm-style house. "Bring me back something, I don't really care what. I need to calm down, and take care of this," he gestured to his head, not lost at all on Emily, "before I take care of that."

Emily pouted, feeling about ten years old, but she didn't argue. Was there a point? She didn't even know that Sam would spank her again, he hadn't since that day months ago on their first hunt together, but then again, Emily hadn't done anything to truly offend him since that time. Dean was the hard head, he was the one who jumped straight to violence every time, Sam wasn't that way. She'd learned from spending so much time with him that he struggled with the side of him that wanted to give into his Demon tendencies, he did everything in his power to stay passive, to be gentle and loving, what his true personality was if there hadn't been this dark cloud above him all the time. Pushing Sam this way had clearly crossed a boundary that Emily hadn't counted on. The harmless "prank" she'd pulled hadn't been so harmless after all. But no one argued with Sam now, not even Dean, who seemed to be grappling just as hard as Emily was. So they watched him retreat into the building and Dean sat for a second, his hands on the steering wheel while Emily slid up into the front seat and winced.

"I really pissed him off," she remarked quietly, obviously. Dean's hands tightened a little on the steering wheel and he gave a low grunt in response, before he pulled out and drove them back toward the center of the town to find somewhere to eat.

"Yeah, Em, you did." It wasn't mean, it was fact. He sighed and Emily turned her body slightly to face him, ever aware of the twinges of pain when she did so. "Sam isn't easy to piss off, either, so I guess congratulations on that? I wish I could say that you didn't deserve to be punished by the both of us, but I can't. You chose to drag him into your little scheme, whatever that was, and Sam hates, more then anything else, to be betrayed by someone he loves."

Emily cringed at the word, somehow it stung her heart more then anything else had before, even Dean's not so subtle dismissal of their relationship hadn't hurt that bad. But she knew that Dean wasn't angry at her, and she knew, deep down, that she absolutely did deserve whatever happened when they returned. It didn't make it any easier to accept, especially when she could still feel the deep seated ache from Dean's spanking, but at least it was deserved. There was no arguing it. "I'm scared," she admitted quietly, when they had found themselves seated at a little Italian restaurant that was surprisingly crowded for a week night. "Sam's never been mad at me before, not like this." She ran her finger around the rim of her wine glass, definitely feeling like she'd need a few of these to make it through the rest of the night.

Dean shrugged at her, sipping at his own beer as he did so. "I don't know what to tell you kid," his gaze was troubled, despite his words. "It's only fair." They were silent for a few minutes after that, Emily had finished her wine in two gulps and had been about to order another when Dean stopped her. "I don't think so," she opened her mouth to argue, anger flaring at the order, but Dean cut her off, "you don't need another one. You going back to Sam all liquored up is going to make things much, much worse. Trust me. Order a coke and pace yourself." She hardly counted two glasses of wine as being "liquored up," but she heeded the advice. Truth be told, her stomach was tying itself into knots now and a second glass wasn't going to help her feel any less sick.

"Does Sam know?" She finally broached the subject once their entree's had arrived, Sam's dinner neatly boxed and bagged at the end of the table while they ate. "About what happened...between us." She blushed, ducking her head to hide it. Dean grinned at that, clearly a little proud of the effect he was having.

"No," he finally gave her, grinning devilishly. "I didn't tell him. Unless Cas did, but I don't think he's the type to go around telling secrets."

Secrets. The word was so juvenile, it just made the whole situation even more embarrassing.

"Sam's a big kid," he went on, ignoring the very pointed look he was receiving from his beautiful companion. "It's not that he couldn't handle it, it's more that he just doesn't really need to know. If we were making this...a thing, maybe," it was clear that talking about relationships was not Dean's forte, he stammered over most of his words. "But since it's not," he shrugged and she felt her anger flare a little again.

"Well that's pretty fucking obvious, judging how you seem to have a woman in every town we pass by," her voice was low as she shot him a dark glance, then went back to her pasta, twirling the noodles casually around her fork, even as Dean put his down to glare at her quietly. "I'm not trying to compete with every Midwest Miss Cornbread Cherry Pie." The words were bitter and they made Dean's frown deepen.

"No one said you had to compete with anyone," he shot back. "You're the one who didn't give me any inkling you wanted to turn this into something more. I'm supposed to just sit around waiting for you?" The conversation was taking a turn that Emily didn't want to add on top of what she was already facing back home and she sighed, setting down her fork to look at Dean fully.

"I'm not saying that, Dean," she forced her voice back to the lightness she used on most men, "I don't know what I want. And I don't think you do either."

"Is that why you pulled that shit back at the farmhouse?" Dean was unmoved by her words, and Emily couldn't stop the blush creep up her neck at his observation. "Shit, it is, isn't it? You were jealous because I was flirting with Cleo."

Cleo, that's what it was.

"Maybe I was." She met his eyes firmly, daring him to try to humiliate her any further. "But this is a two way street, Dean. You didn't talk to me either."

"I don't feel bad about that now," he chuckled, his face still clouded in darkness. "Here I was, feeling all sorry for you, feeling bad that I jumped the gun and whooped you when I didn't have all the information, feeling jealous that Sammy was gonna be looking at that perfect little ass too, and all along this could've been avoided if you'd just knocked on the door and told me what you were feeling. Instead, you got jealous and your revenge was to try to let a poltergeist take us out? You deserved what you got, and you deserve what Sam's gonna give you, and then we need to put this to bed now. What you did was stupid, and more then that, it was childish. You know better."

Emily's food was turning to lead in her stomach, hearing exactly what she'd been thinking coming out of his mouth was hard, and embarrassing. The whole thing was so juvenile, and she couldn't believe she'd let herself fall into that trap of pettiness.

"I think we're done," Dean set his fork down and waved the waitress over, throwing a few bills to the table to let her know they were finished. Emily didn't speak again, she didn't make eye contact, she just stared out the window in misery, her stomach aching, her heart heavy. She'd fucked up, big time. Dean may forgive her eventually, but was this what she wanted? To be this toxic person. To be this messy? She was regretting everything now, sleeping with Dean, letting her develop feelings for the handsome brother, letting herself get close to the both of them. This is the only thing it ended in; heartache.

She barely felt herself walk into the B&B and make her way up the stairs to her room, one of two in the house. The boys were sharing the one across the hall, the owner lived off the property, and everything was silent when they returned. Emily went into her room with no further conversation, shutting the door quietly behind her as Dean went into the room across the hall. She could hear them talking, low and muffled, impossible to make out but she was sure it was all about her. About her mistakes. Emily went to the bathroom, taking her time using the facilities, showering, looking over the remnants of the spanking, changing into a pair of silky sleep shorts and matching top. She had stashed her hairbrush away, cringing at the feel of it in her hand, and then she climbed into bed, listening again for any sign of the brothers. There was none. She couldn't hear them talking anymore, but still Sam hadn't come in. Her eyes felt heavy, but her heart was beating so fast that she couldn't sleep, not knowing what was going to happen. She didn't know how long she lay there, she didn't dare move or look at her phone, and finally when she felt like she couldn't take anymore, there was a soft knock on the door and it opened.

She turned over on her side and sat up, eyes still feeling slightly blurry as she took in Sam's tall form. He had showered too, she could smell the soap and aftershave in the air, and he was wearing a pair of flannel pajama bottoms and a form fitting tee shirt, his muscled arms foreboding and crossed over his chest. He didn't speak at first, he just stepped into the room and quietly shut the door behind him before turning to survey the contrite girl sitting in front of him, there was a few butterfly bandages holding the gash on his forehead closed and a pang of guilt hit her again. His expression was unreadable, and Emily felt her cheeks heating already at the tension, but Sam didn't speak yet as he made his way to the bed and sat down next to her. Emily moved her legs to sit on top of the bedspread, clasping her hands in her lap, her head down, heart pounding. She could smell the anger on him, she could almost taste it, though much less pronounced from before. There was another moment of silence then she opened her mouth and offered a small, "I'm sorry Sam."

"I know." His voice was different from the gentleness she was so used to, and she cringed again. "But it doesn't change how angry I am, Em. It doesn't change how badly that whole thing could've turned out. I hate surprises, Emily, that's why I do research, so I'm always prepared. Being caught off-guard is my biggest pet peeve. What's worse," he angled his body to face hers and took her hands into his, the pulse of his heartbeat, the tension, the anger all easily read through the grip, "is that you did this because you were jealous. Dean told me, he told me what happened. He didn't want to," Sam breathed out then, "but to be honest, I was really having a hard time wrapping my head around why you were trying to get us killed otherwise. I should've suspected it, but I really didn't." Another surprise, Sam was being inundated with them and he repeated, "I hate surprises."

Emily wasn't sure what to say. He wasn't releasing her hands so she looked down at them, how big his were against hers, the calloused knuckles, the small scrapes and bruises from various jobs. She had never felt so small before, the boys seemed to have that effect on people. She went from a grown woman of 21 to a child of 6 in an instant. "I know Sam." She said softly, bringing her thumb to brush against his fingers, still unable to meet his gaze. "It was so stupid. All of it. Sleeping with Dean, getting jealous of that stupid bimbo, putting you in danger because I was mad. It was so stupid. I really am sorry. I didn't think about what I was doing to you, that I was putting you in danger too. You didn't deserve it, you didn't do anything," her heart hurt so much as the words came out, she was already almost in tears as she finally lifted her head to meet his eyes. "I want things to be okay between us again. I-I...I deserve to be punished."

It was the hardest sentence she had ever said in her life and the tears spilled over when she finished, making her lower her head. She brought her free hand up to wipe them away and Sam let go of her hand, catching her chin gently to tilt her face up to his. His eyes had softened and he gave her the smallest smile, using the pad of his own thumb to brush a stray tear from her cheek. "I'm proud of you," he said quietly, and Emily thought she was going to crumple at the words. "You were honest, which isn't easy. What you did wasn't okay, but you know that. You're an adult, Emily, not a kid. I know that Dean is really hard to be around, I know that he's difficult, and I know that you're struggling with what you've been thrown into. Let's get this over with, okay? Wipe the slate clean, fresh start."

He let go of her chin and shifted his body back a little so that he was sitting farther back on the back. Emily didn't argue. She didn't fight. She gave a small sniffle and crawled across his lap, her body stretched over the bed, and weirdly, so very weirdly, she felt at peace. Sam sensed it, he could feel the calm that spread across the room as she accepted her fate, and his heart swelled again. This was so unlike the hellcat they'd picked up all that time ago, fighting them tooth and nail on everything, no this was a girl who'd found her purpose and found her family. This was a girl who was finally coming into her own. He adjusted her slightly, reminding himself that no matter how much he felt the air had been cleared, there was still the task at hand. More then he needed it to move past the incident, Emily needed it more.

He didn't waste any time, he tugged down her shorts and felt his heart tighten again at the sight of her already punished backside, still a light pink hue peppered with some darker pink splotches where Dean had clearly caught her hard with the spoon. It wasn't nearly as bad as he'd expected though, knowing how angry Dean had been when he'd gotten to her, and even though this was going to be no walk in the park for her, at least there wasn't a risk he was going to actually hurt her. He sighed, rubbing his hand across her skin gently, feeling her body heat slightly in response. He couldn't deny how seeing her like this made him feel, how enticing the scent of her was to him, it made it difficult to concentrate sometimes, although he'd done his very best to always hide that side of him, to never let her on to the effect she had on him. He willed his blood to still, he willed the swell of his cock to return to limp, and he raised his hand to begin.

The first smack was a jolt, and she cried out, unprepared for just how badly the spanking hurt on her already tender skin. It was immediate pain, immediate fire, and she almost moaned from the misery. But Sam was such a different spanker from Dean, he didn't stop, he didn't let anything sink in, he let the first spank fly and then he stayed in his pattern. The sound of hard smacks against soft skin filled the room, and she didn't bother to try to control her tears, or her legs. She cried and kicked unashamedly, not caring that Sam could easily see her nether regions, the pain was so intense and unyielding that there was no room in her mind for anything else. Fight or flight had kicked in, five slaps to one cheek, five slaps to the other, five slaps to her sit spots, five slaps to her thighs, and then the pattern repeated. She tried to check herself, to get into her mind where he was in his pattern, to count if only to take her mind off the overwhelming burn. Sam grunted at a particularly hard kick, and he paused, letting her catch her breath through her sobs, surveying her flaming red rear critically. It hadn't taken hardly anything to get the color, and he could feel her lament as she cried into her pillow. "Scoot up a little," he checked himself, shaking his head to clear the feeling of distress at her obvious pain. It took her a moment to comply, so he helped her, his large hands encircling her waist to pull her forehead so her pert little butt was perched on one thigh and he could move his free leg over the back of her knees and pin them there. Emily cried harder at the movement, knowing it meant he wasn't done, knowing that her pain was far from over. I deserve this, I deserve this, I deserve this. She repeated over and over again, feeling him shift and raise his hand once more.

The spanking lasted overall less than five minutes, he'd repeated his pattern maybe ten times by the time she had sobbed herself dry into the pillow and was just struggling to breathe now. Her ass was a dark, shining red, swollen and hot to the touch, and under any other circumstance, this wouldn't have been even a warm up spanking for her, but given the events of earlier, it was more then enough to turn her into a contrite, sniffling little girl. Sam gave her a few moments, gently soothing his hand over her flaming cheeks until her sobbing had subsided and he felt her relax. Carefully, he helped her to her knees between his own and drew her into his arms, neither of them speaking as he held her. It had been hard for both of them to get through, his dick was throbbing with want, it had been impossible not to take in the sight of her pink little pussy as she'd been doing all that kicking and squirming, and now that he was holding her, it was even harder to control himself. He wanted to throw her down and ravage her, the demon blood screaming in his veins to take it, to take her, but he resisted. It wasn't right, not after he saw the way Dean looked at her, not after knowing they'd had sex. That thought immediately dampened his mood and he pulled her back again, gently wiping her tears away as he rearranged his face into a picture of forgiveness. "It's over," he told her softly, pulling her shorts back over her hips and guiding her to lay down. He climbed over her to get off the bed, and surveyed her again, she was still shaking slightly, but her eyes were so heavy that he knew she'd pass out the second he turned the light off. The pang of want hit him again and he shoved it down, leaning down to kiss her temple. "You're forgiven."

And with no further words, she did exactly as he'd predicted and fell asleep.

 

 

Chapter 10: One More Spoon Of Cough Syrup

The mist outside of the foggy little diner where they sat in Cape Lusk, Massachusetts helped set the mood that the four patrons staring moodily out the window felt. They all had cups of coffee in front of them, Sam and Dean were sipping from them moodily, Emily was running her finger endlessly around the ring while she alternated staring out the window and staring down at the cup, and Castiel's remained in front of him, completely untouched. He was looking from each of them critically, thoughtfully, he kept opening his mouth as though he were going to speak, then closing it again. Dean was eating, shoveling bites of a breakfast platter into his mouth between his sips of coffee, Sam had his laptop propped open next to him and ignored the fruit cup he'd ordered, Emily just picked at hers' the few times she remembered it was there. Castiel didn't eat. He just stared.

The case was tough, one of the toughest ones they'd faced in awhile. A new demon was emerging from the pits of hell, apparently he was trying to dethrone the reigning demon king and was threatening to do so by corrupting as many on earth as he could. Bobby had caught the scent of the case first, only moments before Castiel had shown himself, and they were all stumped. They knew very little of the demon himself, only that his name was Ezreil, he had taken human form and shown himself in this small town, where he was unleashing terror. When they had arrived, there had been a short, violent meeting with the demon, who had taken refuge in the form of a young, blandly handsome man. He hadn't wasted time incapacitating the brother's and the angel, then he'd locked his eyes on Emily and had given her a smile that had sent utter chills through her spine. "Well, aren't you interesting, pretty one," he'd crooned at her in a voice that didn't seem to match the body in front of them. He'd cocked his head at her, flicked out his tongue out suggestively, a movement that had immediately renewed the fight in the boys, and then gave a lusty wink, "your mother sends her love."

The sentence had wrecked her immediately and just as Dean broke free and aimed the pistol to the demon, he'd snapped his fingers and disappeared without a trace. "How did he do that?" Castiel's low, growly baritone broke through the stunned silence. No one answered the rhetorical question as they let out a breath in the wake of the demon's presence. Emily's chest had heaved in panic. Her mother. Her mother was in hell. Her mother was in hell.

"I should go," the three men looked up at the sound of her voice, Dean so startled by it that he had choked on the bite of eggs he'd just stuffed into his mouth. Emily stared at him evenly as he coughed and caught his breath. "I should go. As bait. For the kill." Her voice was clipped, short, and she finally picked her coffee up and took a long draw from it.

"Are you insane?" Dean hissed lowly, looking around to make sure no one was listening to them. "No. No. Absolutely not."

She could feel Sam staring at her hard too, though he hadn't protested yet, and when she met his gaze, his eyes were full of concern and something deeper. "I agree with Dean," he finally said, breaking her gaze to look to Cas. "It's too risky, Em, we won't put you in danger like that."

Emily scoffed, this time looking to Cas for help. "You saw how he looked at me, he's intrigued, and more then that, he's distracted by me. It's the only plan that makes sense. If I can draw him out, it'd be an easy kill." She tried to keep her voice light, neutral, casual even, her face unreadable. "He'll sense if you're with me, it won't work if you're there. I can do this."

Cas was the only one without an ounce of concern in his face, but when she met his gaze, she could see that he knew. He knew she was lying, he knew that she was using them. He didn't falter, and so she stared back evenly, resisting the urge to bite her lip and give herself away. "She is right," he finally conceded to Dean's utter amazement. "She can draw him out, quite easily I would imagine. But I don't know that it's wise that she do. I do not believe you're ready to face Ezreil on your own."

"Damn right!" Dean pounded his fist on the table, sending coffee from all of their cups sloshing over the edge, Sam rolling his eyes at the theatrics as he lifted his laptop so it avoided the hot liquid. "There's no way you can take him on on your own Emily, you saw how he had ZERO problems kicking our asses before. You don't have the training."

"But I have the protection," Emily argued, her face feeling hot at the insult. "He can't harm me, if you hadn't noticed that I was the only one who he didn't throw into a wall." It was Dean's turn to bristle and he blushed himself that time. "At least let me try!"

"No." Dean repeated stubbornly, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back to fix her with a hard, warning glare not to push him. Emily looked to Sam and then to Cas, but got nothing. Sam still looked troubled, Cas? The suspicion wasn't hard to miss. He'd clearly seen what she planned and was trying very hard not to tell her not to in front of the boys. She sighed, but didn't push it, the wheels already turning in her head as Dean paid their bill and they all left the diner. Cas held back, and caught Emily's elbow right before she exited the door, the boys already gone ahead of her.

"Don't do it," he warned, his voice low and gravelly. "I see you plotting. You can't get her back, Emily."

Emily pretended to be shocked by what he was implying but it was useless. Of course he knew, of course he could see. "I know, Cas." She said gently, unconvincingly. "Did you know? Did you know what happened to her?"

Castiel hesitated, but his face was honest when he finally replied, "Yes, I did. I see that I won't talk you out of anything, you are correct that you will have no problems drawing him out, but I do not think it's a good idea. I don't think you understand that you won't be able to bring her back. Where she is...we have no control of that."

Emily couldn't even respond before Castiel gently pushed her through the door and when she had turned to argue with him, he was gone. Sighing, Emily joined the guys in the car, telling them shortly about his disappearing act, and they'd headed back through the town towards the motel.

 

It was late.

Dean slept peacefully next to her, his breathing steady, his chest rising and falling in a soothing, even motion. Across from them, Sam was snoring softly, sprawled across his bed with half a sheet tangled around him, looking more boy then man. Emily remained awake. Alert. She studied both boys back and forth, back and forth, wheels turning calculatedly, sleep continuing to evade her as she tried to force thoughts of her mother from her head. Thoughts of Ezreil from her head. She couldn't shake it, even as Castiel's words stayed in the back of her mind, all she could think about was what the demon had said to her. All she could picture was her mother's face.

Quietly, she slipped from the bed and stood, testing the weight of the floor beneath her for any creaks or groans. Dean didn't shift, neither did Sam. Braver, she stepped quietly towards the bathroom, her eyes still trained on the beds for any sign of movement, but there was none. She glanced at the door, knowing there was no way to exit out the front without making a considerable amount of noise. Not only were there several locks to get through, but the door itself was loud enough to wake the people next door, so it was not an option. But in the bathroom, there was a window, large enough for a person of Emily's size to slip through relatively unscathed. She had noticed it when they'd checked in. Made the mental note. Tucked it away.

And now it was coming in handy.

Each step towards the bathroom was a slow, tedious dance of silence. She crept on tip toe, holding her breath as she did so, knowing how perilous it would be to wake the boys. Although the obvious excuse of using the bathroom would save her, she would be unable to sneak out with one or both of them awake and aware of her movements. Silence was the only option. She finally reached her destination and the door slowly, ever so slowly swung open. It didn't make a sound, and it wasn't until she had clicked it safely into place behind her that she was able to breathe again. She listened for a moment for the boys to move, to hear a groan or a noise, or even a shift in the bed. Again, nothing. Confident now, Emily faced the window and took a deep breath. She couldn't risk the light, so she had to do it in the dark. She climbed carefully onto the bathroom sink vanity and turned the ancient looking lock holding it closed. It took some maneuvering, but finally it gave into her ministrations and the window swung out slightly. A small push sent it open all the way and she was free.

Getting outside of the window proved easier then she had thought. There was a ledge outside of it big enough to get her footing and then it was just a small jump to the ground. The cold night air sent a shiver through her, the small sleep shorts and thin sweater she had worn to bed didn't offer much protection against it, and she wrapped her arms around herself, unsure of what to do now. Getting back inside was going to be difficult, she had anticipated most likely waking them coming back. If she came back. But where to go now was another story.

He'll seek me out. The thought propelled her forward into the night, the pavement cold beneath her bare feet. The parking lot entered her sight, street lights throwing sharp angles around her and the various cars. An eerie silence filled the night and she shivered again, not from the cold that time. And then she felt him. And then he was there.

"Pretty one," his voice was soft in the still air, it carried to her and she walked forward, again and again until he was in front of her. "You came, I knew you would."

The threat wasn't lost on her. Here was an ancient, powerful demon, possibly the most dangerous she'd ever face, but she did not feel fear. She did not feel anything. The glow around her burned into the night, and the demon's human face blanched a little but did not back down from her stare. Instead, he just chuckled and he moved in again so that there was only a mere foot of distance between them. He reached his hand out, and she stood her ground, bracing herself for whatever would come. Nothing did. As if a shock had hit him, he hissed and withdrew his hand sharply, and that was when she finally spoke.

"My mother," her voice was clear, confident, "I want to know more about my mother."

The demon smiled at her again, a horrible smile that told her he was going to take great pleasure from whatever he was about to say. "Ah yes, your mother," he began. "Sweet, sweet Sarah. Cast down. Forgotten. Forsaken. How I enjoyed her screams so much in the pit." Emily fought down the bile rising in her throat, and the anger that was festering. Her skin felt warm, the glow felt palpable now, she tried hard to keep it down but it felt as if she were losing control of her body as he continued on, describing her torture in hell, her defilement, her ultimate cast off to a place that even Ezreil couldn't name. The flame in her stomach grew hotter.

"Stop."

A voice. Emily recognized the voice through the fog; Sam's. And then Dean. "Sonuvabitch you get away from her!"

But he didn't tear his eyes from Emily's, the twisted horrible smile growing, and as her defenses fell from the haze she'd been in, she felt him reach again and this time, nothing held her back from him. In two swift seconds, Ezreil had drawn Emily into himself, into his chest and flipped her around to face the Winchester brothers. She met Dean's gaze, fear finally forming into her mind. What had happened? What was this? Dean's own face was a mask of unbridled fury, his eyes flickering from her to Ezreil and he bellowed again, "LET HER GO!"

"Aw, young love," Ezreil gave a fake, forced sigh, the horrible chuckle returning and he leaned down to place a kiss on Emily's exposed throat. The bile rose again, threatening to overspill and she choked on it, swallowing it down as she began to thrash against the demon and Sam lunged forward. His grip tightened, though, and he held his free hand up to ward Sam back, sending him flying against the hood of a car with a deafening crack. Dean paused, reassessing and Emily fought harder, willing her shield to rise from wherever it had retreated. It didn't work. "I so hate to break up such beautiful couples," Ezreil brought his hand back to Emily and brushed it down her breast, to her stomach, and stopping just above her pelvis. Dean bellowed again, and then without warning, a bright flash rose and overtook the parking lot, bathing everything in light. Emily didn't realize she'd been freed until she felt Dean's arms around her, pulling her from the wreckage that was Castiel, a bright blue icicle looking dagger sticking out through the back of the demon, freezing him in place before the moment ended in a shattering blast of air and ash. Ezreil vanished. The light vanished.

There was nothing there but them. Castiel stepped forward to retrieve his dagger and as he did, Emily finally collapsed against Dean, sobbing out loud. "No, no, no, no," she had never felt this momentum of anguish before, this level of devastation. Sam had at some point brought himself up from the wreckage of the car and joined the other three. "My mom. My mom." She couldn't stop crying, the tears flowed through her without recourse.

"He isn't dead," Castiel seemed uncomfortable with the show in front of him, but he placed a comforting hand on Emily's back, sending a flush of warmth through her that she hadn't realized she'd needed. "He will return. I do not know how he broke through the shield, but we must prepare. You need to return to your bunker, research. I will inquire above. Rest, little one."

He was gone again, leaving her with the brother's as they lead her quietly back to the hotel room. Neither spoke, neither offered any lectures, just comfort. Emily could feel the heat and anger rolling from Dean, but he didn't explode. He just sat her down on the bed and began to pack their things. "Emily..." Sam knelt in front of her, forcing her tear stained gaze to his. "You can't bring her back. You can't."

Chapter 11: I've Waited Here For You, Everlong.

You can't bring her back.

The words echoed in her head, over and over, fueling her anger, fueling her hatred, fueling her determination. Sam was right, of course, Emily knew that their father and mother had met the same fate hers had and even them, the greatest hunters alive, hadn't been able to save either of them. But it was different now. Ezreil had been ready to bargain with her, he'd been ready to cut a deal that would've saved her mom and reunited them again. If the boys hadn't interrupted, she would've been in prime position to negotiate. She stole a glance to the rearview mirror, rage burning in her eyes, and found Dean's matching her right back. He hadn't said anything about it. Sympathy had seemed to replace the initial anger he'd faced when they'd packed hurriedly afterward, but it was gone now. And still, he remained silent, even as he stared back at her evenly, a warning.

She didn't care.

The drive to the bunker was long, even longer given that they'd left around 3 am, but Emily refused to sleep. Refused to look away from the mirror, it was chilling almost if they hadn't both been so angry now. An hour in, Dean had finally opened his mouth to say something and that was when Castiel had chosen to appear, startling Emily out of her haze of red. Dean swerved slightly, just as thrown off guard, but he had seemed to master the surprise a little better than Emily had. "Cas!" Sam twisted around, his voice low, urgent. "What's the news?"

"There is no stir as of now," Castiel glanced to Emily, his eyes as soft and kind as Sam's, but so different. "He will return. His sights have been set now, Emily is not safe until we are able to bind him or rid of him for good. Ezreil is powerful, but he is young, and with that youth comes arrogance that will hinder him. He made mistakes this evening, he will make them again."

"But my mom," Emily choked out, her eyes unexpectedly welling up, the anger turning to anguish as Ezreil's words of degradation filled her head again.

"We are working on it, Emily," Castiel's voice was gentle, "we have been working on it. You must trust us. You were told to trust us. If you don't let us work, if you continue to get in the way, you prolong her suffering."

She flinched at the words, guilt pooled in her stomach. Castiel was not accusing, just straightforward, now he glanced to Dean as well. "Your anger is misplaced, Dean."

"The hell it is!" Dean exploded from the front, his grip on the steering wheel but the Angel didn't so much as blink at the outburst. He just leaned forward, lowering his voice enough that Emily had to strain to hear him.

"You must remember what your goal is, her safety was compromised tonight because you and Sam did not think to take her feelings into account, and she might have been lost, or worse, she might have tried to strike a bargain with Ezreil. I implore you to figure out a solution. Stay low. We will dig a little more and return once we have answers."

He disappeared as quickly as he'd come and Emily stared blankly at the spot he'd just moments ago been inhabiting, his words now turning over in her head. She had been ready to bargain with Ezreil. She'd been ready to do anything he'd ask of her to see her mom removed from the pit. What was she doing? Stupid. She closed her eyes for a moment, willing the words the demon had uttered from her mind. Ezreil knew her weaknesses, he had known that graphically explaining where her mother was would lower her defenses, he had known she would be willing to do whatever he asked. He was a demon. He had probably never encountered her mom, and she'd fallen right into his trap.

She glanced to Dean again, regret lacing her face now where rage had only been minutes before. Dean met her stare and his own softened, and he looked away, as if thinking deeply. A few hours later, the morning light was breaking over the horizon and the bunker was in their sights. The rest of the ride had been silent, and now, seeing the bunker, a feeling of relief made her feel like she could breathe again. How quickly this had been able to feel like home. They all got out of the car, Sam's eyes were lined with bags and he looked as relieved as Emily felt to be there too. "I'm going to make sure the defenses are all up and then I need to get a few more hours of sleep," he drew Emily into his chest, and she wrapped her arms around him, allowing him to hold her tightly. "We're all okay. That's what matters." He shot Dean a look before releasing Emily and heading into the house. Leaving them.

"Dean," Emily started to speak, suddenly feeling as tired as Sam had looked. The rage had burned through her and now she felt empty. Sad.

"Don't, Em," Dean interrupted her, looking down at the hood of his car. "I understand, okay? I get it. I'm not angry that you wanted to go after your mom. I understand why, hell, probably more than anyone else, I understand why." He gave a short laugh, before looking up and meeting her gaze evenly, his green eyes pooling with emotions she couldn't quite sort out. "But you knew it was stupid to go alone. I know that you have a lot of experience with Demons, but you don't have any experience with bargaining with them. He would've asked for your soul, or tricked you into making a deal with him you can't keep. That's what they do, Emily. I've bargained with them before to get back the people I love. It never ends how you think it will. You have to trust us. And you didn't."

Now hurt lined his face as his voice broke a little on the last word and Emily crumbled at it. "I know Dean. I wasn't thinking. He told me all these horrible things he did to her and all I could think about was saving her and keeping you as far out of it as I could."

"I can't lose you," his voice was thick as he stepped towards her again, sticking out a hand to pull her body into his. The smell of him overtook her as he hugged her, his face buried in her hair, his body was shaking slightly and it only took her a few moments to comprehend that he was crying. Dean Winchester was crying. Her whole defense broke, she moved her arms from his waist up to his shoulders, entangling her fingers into his hair and drawing him to her neck, where she let him remain for a few moments, her own eyes filling with tears as well. He hadn't been angry, he had been scared, she realized. Now there was nothing left but guilt, it overtook her wholly, and she pulled back, taking in his tear-stained face and how much he looked like a little boy when he was vulnerable like this.

"I'm sorry, Dean," her voice broke a little at the words, sincerity crawling over each syllabl. "I thought I could it alone. I didn't want to put you and Sam in danger."

The irony wasn't lost on either of them, but he allowed her to go on. "I wasn't thinking. I put us all in danger. And you were right. I was ready to make any bargain he asked for to get her back. I would have sold myself to him if it meant she wasn't stuck anymore." She was still holding onto him, his hair was soft on her fingers, his breath hot on her face, his body heat seeping into her own. How could she have been willing to risk him for an empty promise? "I was wrong. I was selfish. I put us in harm's way and I didn't care. I-I..." she stumbled over her words slightly, and she let go of him, her gaze lowering to the ground. "I deserve to be punished."

Dean didn't move, or speak, for what felt like an eternity. When she had finally lifted her gaze to meet his again, he'd rubbed the tears away and his face was a puzzle of pride and confusion.

"You do," he spoke finally, and he drew her in again, his arm wrapped tightly around her shoulder as he began leading them into the house. "But not now. We both need a few more hours of sleep, and first," he paused at the base of the door and turned her to face him again, leaning down. "I want you." Without hesitation, his lips met hers, the kiss deep, sensual, urgent. It seemed that vulnerability turned him on, or maybe it was the whole situation-the adrenaline-but whatever it was, she didn't protest. The release promised was too tempting.

She didn't know how long they made love, how long they slept, how much noise they made, if Sam could hear at all. When she finally awoke it was nearing noon. Next to her, Dean still slept, his hair tousled, bare chest rising and falling, so peaceful. She carefully peeled herself from the sheets and crept out of the room, closing the door behind herself quietly. She needed a shower and something to eat and coffee if there was any stocked. They'd been on the road for awhile, she was pretty sure there wasn't much in the cupboard. But first she took her time in the shower, the scent of Dean leaving her in a swirl of apple tinged soap. By the time she was out and dressed, Dean and Sam had also joined her in the kitchen. Sam had a list of supplies to get from the store and he'd given Dean a pointed look before he left the two of them alone.

"I don't want to drag this out," Dean set his coffee cup in the sink, dropping a kiss to her head as he passed by her, the motion so domestic and affectionate that it made her heart flutter softly. "You know you deserve to be punished, you know Sam and I agree. I want you to go to your room, lose the pants, and park your pretty nose in the corner." The flutters turned to palpitations and Dean watched as Emily swallowed hard, fully expecting her to throw a fit like she normally did. But after a moment's hesitation, Emily wordlessly stood up and left the room as instructed. Dean watched after her in amazement, before muttering "Well goddamn."

He didn't make her wait long, although it felt like a whole day had passed to Emily. She was right where he'd told her to be, face in the corner, hands at her sides. She had a white tank top on and nothing else, and he took a moment to rake his eyes over her long, tanned legs up to that perfect, heart shaped ass. He took a breath to steady himself, no matter how many times he saw her this way she still took his breath away. But now he had a job to do, one he didn't particularly enjoy, so he made his way across the room and sat down. Another deep breath and his low, gravelly voice echoed through the room. "C'mere sweetheart."

She turned, her face already stained with tears, lower lip pouted out, eyes down-turned and his resolve wavered again. But no, he had a job to do. She asked for this, she wanted him to do it. She had reached his side and he helped her over, lifting her hips to make her as comfortable as she could be in the situation. She didn't make any noise, didn't pull away, or protest like she usually did. It was pure submission, and his cock tightened painfully again. Damn, he needed to get this over with. "You know why you're here, Em. No one appreciates more then me what you were trying to do for your mom, but you put yourself in danger. You put us in danger. You know that Castiel won't always show up to save our asses."

The lecture wasn't long, it was straight to the point, and it didn't take long for him to begin the spanking, his hand rising and falling with very talking between. Submission flew out the window two minutes in, her ass had taken on a light pink hue and the sting had gotten to her. She began to kick, and a few squeals escaped her lips. Dean tightened his hand around her waist, pulling her a little more tightly to his hips, and the spanking resumed with a renewed intensity. She was crying softly but she had been doing that before the spanking even began so Dean was taking cues from her body language instead. "Please Dean, I'm so sorry!" Four more sharp smacks were the response and her legs kicked again, but he didn't stop, he didn't slow down. The protesting spurred him on, gave him the sharp reminders of why they were here, distracted him from wanting to fuck her again. It'd been a long time since he'd been vulnerable with anyone that wasn't Sam, and part of him wondered if he'd started to fall for her beyond the physical.

"I don't think so baby," he drawled, pausing for a moment to shake his hand out and then rub her sore butt for a moment. The pink had deepened into a more cherry red but he wasn't done yet. Another minute of spanking brought some true ugly sobs out of her and he stopped once more, but this time he didn't resume. The true test of contrition was about to come, and he wondered if she was ready, if she was truly repentant. He rested his hand on her ass again, rubbing the soft, hot skin. Her sobs died down into sniffles and once she was quiet, he spoke. "You're not quite done, sweetheart." He felt her body tense and she pushed up to look back at him, eyes red-rimmed and still swimming with tears. "I want you to go find your hairbrush and bring it back to me." She flinched hard and her face crumbled, and again Dean felt like he was making a mistake. You're not, pull it together. She needs this.

"Come on, Em," he patted her ass gently and she slowly, slowly pulled herself up, not quite believing her body was betraying her this way. The hairbrush. The worst of the worst. She hiccuped and reached back to rub her ass as she turned towards the bathroom and trudged towards it, as if she were walking to her doom. She didn't know why she wasn't fighting, but it just wasn't in her. Maybe it was because she was starting to develop some real feelings for the ruggedly handsome, brute of a man on the bed. Maybe it was because she had really fucked up. Maybe it was because she knew it'd be ten times worse if she didn't, but whatever the reason, she'd reached the hairbrush and found herself handing it over to him without even realizing she was doing it.

 

"Wait, wait, wait," Sam held up a hand, his brows pulled together quizzically. "You're telling me that she not only ASKED you to spank her, but she didn't fight you AT ALL? Is she broken?"

The brother's were sitting in the living room, a western flick on the TV in front of them, beers in hand, taking some time to catch up and hang out. Emily had excused herself after dinner, Sam had picked her up a copy of the next book in a series she was reading and she had told them she was going to drown herself in bubbles and enjoy the first few chapters, which gave them some time alone; a rarity these days. Dean chuckled in response, taking a long pull on his bottle of beer before leaning back.

"Yeah, man, it was very out of left field. I don't know, maybe it's getting through to her finally? Or maybe we did break her," he paused thoughtfully. "You know man, I think maybe I'm starting to...feel something for her. I can't explain it. I've been viewing her as this annoying little sister type, and she is a huge pain in the ass, don't get me wrong, but then we started sleeping together, and now I can't stop imagining it. Imagining a life with her, you know?"

It wasn't often that they had these kind of heart to hearts, and Sam looked a little uncomfortable as Dean opened up to him, feeling a small twinge of jealousy run through his veins that he couldn't deny. But more then that, he had known it was going to end up this way, somewhere in their journey together something that clicked in place between the two of them, something Sam didn't have her. Pushing the feeling aside, Sam gave a small shake of his head and mimicked Dean's pose, leaning back against the couch.

"Sure, Dean," he finally answered, looking to his brother with a bit of sadness in his eyes. "I get that totally. She's a gorgeous girl, she's got the attitude in her that you always seem to go for, and we're in a situation where we kind of have nowhere else to go. She's stuck with us for the long haul. But you know, can you handle it? Handle her? What she is?" He paused, holding his hand up because he could see Dean gearing up on the defense. "I don't mean that I don't think you can handle her, dude. Clearly you can if she went from that little hellcat we picked up in a bar six months ago, to her legit asking you to spank her when she fucked up, but I mean, the Nephilim stuff. The fact that you can't enter a room without every person there wanting her. Knowing you'll never have your family with her? There's no white picket fence in that future. It's not like with Lisa, and Ben," Dean flinched at their names, so hard that it immediately sent a wave of guilt through Sam. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to bring them up, but you know what I'm saying right? You had a whole life with them, the normal job, the normal family, the house and the dog and the American Dream. A woman who didn't know anything about your other life, who was just happy to be with you. What happens if this goes south for you guys? It's not like she can just...leave, you know? And you definitely won't be leaving this life when she'll be attracting Demons to her everywhere you go. You'll never have that life with Emily."

Sam had clearly spent some time thinking this out, which Dean could appreciate. But taking in what he said proved to be a lot harder, Dean rarely reveled in details or thought things through, that was always Sam's job. "I don't know, Sammy," he sighed heavily, finishing off his beer before rubbing a hand over his face. "I guess I haven't really thought about it. Living life through my penis," he grinned, breaking the tension a little, making Sam smile. "Some of those things could be a positive. I haven't felt this way about a woman since...her," he still couldn't bring himself to say her name. "Knowing she'd always be here, that I'd never have to do to her what I had to with them, that's really appealing. And I can't help the way I feel about her, when she went to Ezreil I don't think I've ever been so scared in my whole life, Sam. Imagining losing her makes me sick, literally sick! Even knowing that I'll always be competing with any guy in a room for her, she's worth it. She is. I want the whole world with her, whatever that world turns out to be. It scares me that I feel so strongly."

Sam grinned at his brother fondly, reaching over to clap him on the shoulder. "Sounds like a lovesick puppy to me, are you sure she didn't glamour you?" he teased, making Dean scowl and shrug his hand away. "Look, if that's how you feel, then good. You deserve happiness, wherever it may come from. Can't say I'm not a little jealous that she didn't choose me, but I think even that first night I knew that she wasn't meant for me. She was meant for you."

Dean pulled a face at his younger brother, a belly laugh forming at the words. "Who's the sap here Sammy?" He stood, grinning at his brother as he went to grab another beer from the fridge. "Thanks brother. You're right, like usual."

"Grab me one too," Sam finished off his own and kicked back, propping his feet on the coffee table and turning his attention to the John Wayne shoot-em-up starting to play again. Dean rejoined him and the brother's watched in comfortable silence.

Lisa and Ben.

The names echoed through Emily's head as she soaked in the bath, trying hard to concentrate on her book. She hadn't meant to eavesdrop on the boys, she'd gone to grab a water for her bath when she'd heard them talking and paused for a second to take it in. Hearing Sam talk about her had been tough, and unfair. Then he'd mentioned Lisa and Ben and she saw how tense Dean immediately got, with no explanation of who they were and she only listened for a moment more as Dean agreed before she had quietly left and gone back to her bath. So Dean didn't want her after all, just sex to him, not like with whoever this Lisa person was, and Ben? She couldn't fathom who Ben was, or what he was. Another lover? Or a son? Dean's son? He'd never, ever brought them up to Emily before, neither had Sam. But it was clear that they were important to him, and maybe, maybe they were the reason he didn't want her. Tears filled her eyes as Sam's harsh words replayed, "you'll never have that life with Emily." And then Dean had agreed with him.

So he didn't want that. Stuck with her, they'd said. Stuck. She was not there out of free will, she was not there out of the boys love for her. She was there out of obligation. They were obligated. Tears filled Emily's eyes as she set aside the book and sank a little lower into the bath, washing them away with the warm water. Emily wasn't going to be anyone's obligation if she could help it. She had thought that she had something with Dean, she had thought she was even in love with him, but it was clear that he was not with her. No, somewhere, somehow, he had someone else. Lisa and Ben. His family. Emily sat in the bath until the water was cold and her body was wrinkled, then she slowly brought herself out, wrapped herself in a towel, and went to bed, not bothering to change or dry herself off. When Dean came in later, clearly wanting her, she had pretended to be asleep keeping her eyes slammed shut tightly until he left, the disappointment trailing after him.

She didn't know what she was going to do, she didn't know where she was going to go, but one thing was clear, it would not be with the Winchester's. Letting darkness overtake her, Emily slept until morning, the sadness and anger never leaving her heart.

Chapter 12: Hello Darkness My Old Friend

Stuck. Stuck. Stuck.

There had never been a more accurate description of the situation that the three found themselves in as the week dragged on. Tension was high, Sam and Dean clueless as to why while Emily sulked around the house, not talking much, avoiding the boys as much as was possible in the cramped bunker. At first she used the book as her excuse, but it was becoming more and more clear as the days passed that Emily was angry. Dean had attempted to talk to her several more times, he wanted so badly to tell her how he was feeling, but Emily refused, making excuses every time he approached. It didn't help that Cas had dropped in too deliver nothing, just a quick "no sign of him yet, sit tight" before disappearing again. Sit tight. Emily felt like a caged animal again. Memories of her first months with the boys plagued her daily, the suffocating claustrophobia of being forced to remain with the men who wanted nothing to do with her was beginning to wear on her mental state.

Lisa and Ben.

If she hadn't been so mad at Sam too, she would've gone to him for answers on the mysterious duo. As it was, she was left to stew in her white hot anger, her jealousy. Another day and Emily found herself sitting in her room alone again, trying to take in the words on the page in front of her. They were even ruining her book! Frustrated, Emily tossed it aside and stood up, shaking out her long hair from the haphazard bun it was in, adjusted the pair of short little distressed daisy dukes she was wearing, and made sure her boobs were still safely encased in the tiny floral boho crop top she had picked for the day. The kind of outfit that normally drove Dean crazy, but today it wasn't for him.

She left her room and headed down the hall to the living room where she could hear the TV going. Both boys were parked in front of it and looked up when Emily entered, Dean's eyes darkening slightly as they raked over her body, which she very pointedly ignored. Emily stood square in front of the TV and crossed her arms over her chest, looking back and forth between the boys before speaking. "I want to go out."

Sam choked on the swig of water he'd just taken, coughing loudly several times before he was able to speak. "Are you crazy? You know the orders, you aren't going anywhere until Ezre-"

"Ezreil hasn't resurfaced, dummy," Emily cut in smoothly, adopting a look of pure boredom that so resembled that of a snotty teenager that Dean instantly felt his blood begin to boil. "He hasn't been seen or heard of since the incident. It's been a week, I'm losing my mind. I want an hour at a bar, by myself, away from you two."

Dean's face was getting red, and Sam's eyes were so narrow, they were almost gone. Both boys looked like she'd just suggested they have an orgy with Crowley. "Little girl," Dean was the one to speak this time, his voice as hard as his gaze, the words making her visibly tense. "Have you lost your goddamn mind? Did you come in here just to rile us up?"

"Last I checked, little boy," Emily sneered right back at him, her stance not changing an inch even as Dean's face grew even redder. "I am a grown adult, capable of making my own decisions, and regardless of being stuck here with you, I have no intention of giving up my life because you two neanderthals are scared of a little demon. I want to go out. To a bar. And neither of you are stopping me."

It was the breaking point, she didn't know who moved first but the second the boys were off the couch, Emily darted to the other side of the couch and out of their reach. She wasn't budging. "You've made it perfectly clear that none of us are here out of love," the word fell from her lips like poison. "I'm giving you a break from your obligation to me. Congratulations, you're free." She stepped back, watching the anger from the boys face turn into confusion.

"What are you talking about, Em?" Sam's brow cocked, his expression puzzled. Making her anger grow.

"You KNOW what I'm talking about!" She burst out, voice rising an octave as she shouted. "I HEARD you! All the bullshit can be dropped now, Sam! You made it perfectly clear that I'm the reason why your lives suck, why you can't leave, why you can't be with your precious LISA!"

It was the picture of a perfect storm, the woman throwing the tantrum, one boy confused, the other seeing red. At the sound of Lisa's name, both brothers stopped to look at one another, dawning on them at the same time what she was referring too. Sam laughed, the sound of it echoed through the room, throwing off the irate girl in front of them. "Jesus Christ, Emily, you heard us talking about that?"

It just made her angrier. How DARE he laugh at her! How dare he make a mockery of how she was feeling. "Stop!"

"No, YOU stop Emily!" Dean's harsh voice cut through the tension and he fixed her in his gaze once more. "You don't know what you're talking about and I don't even know exactly what you think you heard, but Lisa isn't a part of this equation and you're acting INSANE!"

Emily's answering laugh mimicked Sam's from moments before but hers was cold, sarcastic. "Of course she's part of the equation, Dean. She's your what? Wife? Girlfriend? Ben is your son? Slipped your mind when you started fucking me, right?" Dean flinched hard, but Emily barreled right on. "Just your forced distraction here, right? Until you go back to your real family."

She moved again, the keys to the Impala were on the table beside her and she snatched them up without a second's more hesitation. "I'm no one's distraction. I'm no one's second best. I'm out of here."

She moved to the door, but Sam got there first, one hand slamming it shut, the other grabbing her wrist hard enough that she gasped, anger forgotten for the moment. He forced the keys from her hand and threw them back to the table, before moving his grasp to her upper arms, forcing her to turn and face him. Behind him, Dean's face had changed. The anger was gone, and all there was left was sadness. Defeat. Emily's chest stung, but she refused to back down and met Sam's gaze with unflinching openness. "Let me go." Her voice was quiet, but full of such authority that Sam almost listened to her.

"No." He spat out, his grip tightening. She didn't move. Didn't blink. Didn't wince. "How dare you. You don't know what the hell you're talking about." Sam moved again, his grip leaving her right arm, to pull her forward by her left. The resistance she gave him made him want to slap her, his hand twitched at his side as he faced Dean. "I'm going to take care of this. Objections?"

Dean was still staring at Emily, and she finally met his gaze, trying not to lose her nerve as they squared off. She'd never disrespected them this way before, and neither had she ever felt so disrespected either. He held her gaze for a second and then looked to Sam, shaking his head. "I need some time alone."

Her death sentence had been signed, as he turned and left the room, not even bothering to look behind him. Emily's eyes welled with tears. So that was it. She hadn't been wrong. She was nothing to him, and he was...he was everything to her. Every bit of hurt and anger spilled out of her then, as she wrenched her arm from Sam's bruising grasp and turned, letting her hand fly to his face. The slap landed with a deafening accuracy, and she didn't have time to process the moment of silence that fell between them before Emily found herself shoved so hard over the arm of the sofa that the wind was knocked out of her. She barely felt the first slap of Sam's hand rain down and she kicked out at him, happy when her foot met with solid bone and she heard him grunt. Digging her own grave, that was the phrase wasn't it?

He moved out of her target, and as she tried to straighten up, Sam's hand hit her back and forced her back down. She balled her hands into fists and stared straight ahead. He wasn't going to break her. No one was ever going to break her again. She heard the whoosh of leather as Sam's belt released from the loops of his pants, her shorts were so short he didn't bother to remove them as he began to lay into her, full force. The only sounds in the room was that of the belting, stripe after stripe landing against her tender flesh. She didn't move. Didn't make a sound. Her anger had built into a shield that encased her inside and pooled into a ball of anger so stunning that she didn't even feel what he was dishing out. She stared at her fists, her body flinching instinctively with each stroke, but still she remained silent. The lashes now overlapped each other, and, twenty, maybe thirty? strokes fell, and none brought so much as a whimper out of the girl. Sam paused, his own anger waning as he took in what was going on below him. Emily didn't move. Her ass and thighs were a mess of red splotches, angry lines beginning to form welts, and still she lay there, staring straight down at her fists. He tossed the belt over the back of the couch and pulled Emily up. She faced him with nothing. No expression in her eyes. It was scary. Dead.

"Emily," Sam felt the anger beginning to dissipate and a pool of guilt hit his stomach. He'd just dished out the harshest spanking he'd ever given her and she didn't make a peep. "Come here." His posture sagged and he lead her around to the couch to sit, noting that she still didn't flinch. Not even as sore as she had to be. "That wasn't fair. I'm sorry." Her eyes remained expressionless, empty, and his stomach clenched again. "Emily, come on," he prodded, forcing her to face him with a gentle hand on her chin. "You didn't hear the whole conversation Emily, you didn't hear Dean talk about how much you mean to him. And you don't know anything about Lisa or Ben."

For the next fifteen minutes, Sam told her the story. The whole story, how he'd been gone, how Dean had been desperate for a normal life until he'd made his return. How he'd been forced to wipe their memories. How hard it had been for him to move on, until...until her.

The whole time Emily remained stoic, not giving any indication that she was even taking in what he was saying. But the more he spoke, the more the words began to permeate. The fog of her shield began to fall. The mist around her cleared. "I didn't know," she mumbled, staring down at her hands. The fog had also taken away the haze of pain and she found herself squirming.

"No, you didn't. You should've talked to him. Instead you chose to sulk around here like a spoiled child. Dean doesn't deserve that, Emily. He would've told you if you'd asked him." Emily's face crumpled and the tears began to flow.

"Fuck, and now what? He's never going to speak to me again!" A bitter laugh escaped her lips as she shifted and felt the sting of her ass. Sam sighed and stood up, helping her too.

"Give him time. You spent all week sulking, now let him deal with this his own way." He shrugged, slinging an arm over her shoulder and pulling her in affectionately. "You'll probably need that to heal up, anyway," he patted her ass lightly, causing her to flinch. "How did you not move at all during that, anyway?"

"I don't know," Emily admitted quietly. "I was so angry, that I didn't feel anything. It was like there was this bubble around me, I knew you were spanking me but I didn't feel it. Not until after, at least."

Sam didn't let her see his troubled expression as she muttered, "hmmm," under his breath and excused himself to the library. Leaving Emily alone with her sore butt, and sorer pride.

"Hm, indeed."

Chapter 13: Black Hole Sun Won't You Come

Emily wisely left Dean alone the rest of that night, feeling a pang of guilt the next morning when he still hadn't resurfaced from the pit of his room. She had made breakfast for them silently, letting Sam take Dean's to him, trying hard to resist the urge to eavesdrop after he shut the door and stayed in there for a few long minutes. The pangs of guilt turned her stomach as she tried hard to move on with her day, taking her coffee to sit in the living room and turn on some mindless reality TV show with one of the many Kardashian's. The thoughts swirled around her, everything Sam had said intermixing with her own stubborn feelings about what Dean's idea of a perfect life may be. With Lisa he had gotten so much, a normal life and a built in family, a nice house, a normal job. Even with Sam's reassurances that Lisa was far out of the picture, that Dean hadn't seen her since the day he'd asked Cas to wipe her memory of him, she still couldn't shake it. He'd been a dad to a little boy. He'd been devoted to this woman. If Sam hadn't returned, he would've still been with her. And if he saw her again?

The coffee had gone cold in her hands and she stood up to go into the kitchen and microwave it. A quick glance to the hall and Dean's still shut door sent that pang again, which she brushed away. Leaning against the counter as the microwave spun, she was absentmindedly staring at the fridge when Sam's sudden reappearance startled her out of her reverie. "You okay?"

He was treating her with kid gloves this morning. He'd even apologized again for his behavior last night, but Emily had brushed him off. She had hit him, she'd thrown the tantrum, she didn't blame him for his reaction. Even if her ass was still bearing the brunt of it today. "Yeah, Sam, I'm fine," she sighed a little as the microwave dinged and she removed the now piping hot cup. She cradled it between her hands as Sam moved around her to pour a fresh cup and then take an opposite stance across from her, mimicking her pose as they both sipped for a moment in silence.

"I just-" she set the cup down and finally met Sam's gaze, her mouth down-turned in a little frown that reached her eyes. "I can't stop thinking about it. About his life with her. About his life with them." She took another sip of her coffee, Sam's still quiet prompting her to continue. "Everything you said before, about how Dean can't ever have that with me, is true Sam. I can't change what I am. I can't change what I was born into. I can't give him children, Sam. I can't give him normalcy. And before it didn't matter, we were all stuck together for the unforseeable future, and I thought maybe he didn't care about any of that stuff, maybe we'd be fine doing this for the rest of our lives. But now I know...now I know that's not true for him," her voice broke a little, and she tried hard to hold in the tears that welled up, even as Sam moved to put a comforting hand on her shoulder. "He deserves more than me, Sam."

"Hey, hey," Sam soothed her gently, his long fingers rubbing circles into her shoulder. "That's not fair, Em. Dean made his choices, his own choices, with Lisa. He gave up the life with her long before we knew that you'd be entering our lives. He chose that, not you, not me, he did. You can't guilt yourself into what Dean is making of his life. And you make him happy, happier and angrier and more passionate then I ever saw him with Lisa. He's my brother, and I worry about him and so I said some things that I shouldn't have, but you have to know that I was just looking out for him, and maybe I was trying to get him to admit what he really is feeling about you. Which he did."

Emily swallowed the sob in her throat and turned into Sam's side, tucking her head against his chest as she let herself cry for a few moments. When she had finally composed herself, she pulled back to tell Sam thank you and was interrupted again by Dean's sudden appearance. Sam and Emily glanced at each other before looking at Dean, but he didn't say anything, even as he took in Emily's tear stained face and Sam's worried look.

"Morning," he said gruffly, shoving past them both to reach the coffee pot and pour himself a cup. "Sam, we got a job. Cas said we're okay to do it as long as Emily stays here this time."

Emily's sadness turned to confusion as she heard what he said and she straightened a little, dumping her coffee cup into the sink. "Is that a good idea? What about-"

"Cas said it's fine," Dean repeated shortly, cutting her off and brushing past them again to head to the living room. "We'll leave in a couple hours Sammy, it's not too far from here. Guess there's been an uptick in people's heads exploding for no reason over in River City."

Sam followed Dean to the living room, their chattering fading away as Emily stayed rooted to the spot, her frown deepened. So Dean was being his normal asshole self, but clearly the snub was staring her straight in the face. He didn't want to talk to her, and he didn't want to be here with her, and clearly he wasn't having her go on a job. She took a deep breath, fighting her natural urge to go throw a tantrum at them and instead trailed after them into the living room as well. She wasn't forgiven yet, that much was clear, and as hurt as she felt, she had been there long enough to know that Dean would come around when he wanted to.

"Why can't I go?" Her tone wasn't whiny, just matter of fact, and she perched on the edge of the couch, ignoring the literal pain in her butt as memories from last night tried to flood her brain. She pushed them aside. "If Cas says it's safe enough for you guys, shouldn't it be safe enough for me?"

"No." Dean looked at her pointedly before returning to his talk with Sam, ignoring her again.

"Did Cas specifically say I couldn't go?" She was pushing it, she knew she was, but she didn't want to stop. If Dean hauling off on her curbed his anger with her, it'd be worth it. Even as she spoke, staring straight at him, she could see his jaw tensing.

"I said no," Dean's voice lowered a shade and she brushed past it coolly, now meeting Sam's eyes with a determined stubbornness. His lips pursed and he gave a small shake "no" of his head, seeing what she was doing and warning her against it. "Because I said no."

"Then Cas probably wants me there, Dean," she adopted the snotty tone that she knew drove him crazy, knew pushed his buttons, and she watched with a mixture of dread and delight as he flexed out his hand, eyes hard. "I want out of here just as badly as you do."

"Sam," Dean suddenly jerked his head to his brother and Emily sighed, realizing that she was being snubbed again. She'd lost this one. "Take Emily to her room and impress upon her the importance of following directions. Then come help me pack up the car."

He stalked away without another glance to Emily and Sam sighed, giving her a look that clearly said "what the hell are you doing?"

Emily stared back innocently. "What? I'm just doing what I do best, Sam. If he's mad enough at me to spank me, then he'll be mad enough at me to talk to me."

Sam just sighed again and wrapped an arm around her shoulder, leading her back to her room. "It's not gonna be that easy, Emily. So don't keep riling him up because I'm the one who's gonna have to deal with his bad side today." He rolled his eyes then met hers again with a sudden start, suspicion clouding his expression. "Don't even think about doing something stupid, Emily. I mean it, you don't know what he's gonna do, you don't know how he's gonna react, and for all we know, he'll make me spank you again. So put away that look, I see what you're up too."

She just stared at him innocently, a sickly sweet smile grazing her lips. "I don't know what you're talking about, Sammy. But Captain VonTrapp blew his whistle, so you better scoot." Giving him a wink, she shoved him from the room and shut the door firmly behind him. She only had a few hours to get the wheels turning and come up with a plan.

 

 

Chapter 14: Back To The Land of Ice and Snow

"What the FUCK were you thinking?"

It hadn't been her most sophisticated plan, in fact, she'd come up with it while watching an old re-run of Full House, the classic "stuff your bed so it looks like you're asleep while you sneak out" gimmick that every 90's sitcom added into their trope, but which had been remarkably easy to pull off once she'd set her mind to it. Stuffing her bed had been the easiest, she'd even added a hoodie over a pillow so it looked like she was pouting in her bed, propped a book up to make it look like she'd been reading, and then from there, it was a matter of lying in wait. As soon as the boys were in the library to finish stocking up and getting Sam's laptop charged, she'd grabbed her small backpack with supplies and a blanket and settled into the floorboards of the Impala, curled up into a ball with the blanket strategically wrapped around her. Apparently the Hunter's weren't expecting it, hadn't checked on her, and weren't in a habit of checking their backseat, because nothing happened. They loaded the trunk, slammed it shut, got inside, and were off.

The ride was mostly quiet, the boys talked about the hunt and their theories on what might be terrorizing the small town they were headed to. Several times, Sam tried to broach the subject of Emily and Dean had coolly cut him off and changed the subject. Emily kept her breathing even and slow, listening intently for any signs of being found out. But she wasn't. They'd made it the whole two hour drive away to the town, the boys had pulled into a restaurant first to eat, and Emily had stayed hidden. When they'd arrived at the town's hospital, she waited until they were out to emerge and change in the backseat into her "FBI uniform" knowing that's what the boys were going with. She was a good fifteen minutes behind them, but she knew where they were going, and she also knew that they wouldn't give up their ruse to call her out. As she strolled up to the hospital, she couldn't stop the small prickle of fear that ran up the back of her neck at the thought of Ezreil being out there, watching her, waiting, waiting for an opportunity just like the one she was giving him. Stupid, stupid, stupid. The voice in the back of her mind said, which she brushed away. She picked up her pace and in no time, she'd found herself downstairs in the Morgue with two very angry Winchester's, one oblivious pathologist, and three dead bodies sans heads.

"I don't know," she shrugged at Dean, arms crossed, hip cocked, picking at her cuticles with one hand as if she hadn't a care in the world.

The drive back had been horrible. Sam did most of the yelling, surprisingly, apparently he felt very personally offended that he'd been vouching for her and she'd betrayed him. She tried to tune him out, tried to stay stoic, but it was hard. She felt guilty. And worried. But she couldn't let them know that, not after a successful hunt and a successful personal mission in which Dean was finally talking to her, albeit screaming.

"You don't know?" Dean's eyes looked like they were going to bug out of his head, Sam's face had turned a very deep red, and Emily couldn't help it. She snorted.

There was no time to react, one second she'd been standing there, still wearing the tasteful black skirt and white blouse of a fake FBI agent, the next moment Dean had her arm in a vice grip and was propelling her not at all gently in the direction of her bedroom, his hand finding her ass over and over again on the way. He paused in the doorway once they'd reached it, taking in the fake setup in her bed and this time it was him who snorted, before shoving her in front of him so she was trapped in the room. Just like she'd envisioned. Even with the inevitably horrible spanking looming in her future, she knew this would work. She knew he'd be the one to flip. She knew he'd be the one to react first. It's going to be worth it.

"Dean," she turned around, her hand going to her backside to rub out the sting he'd garnered in the small amount of time it'd taken them to get here. "Listen-"

"Listen?" Dean snorted again and once more he was on her, his hands roughly groping her hips as he searched for the zipper he knew would be there. "To what? More lies? I'm sick of this shit, Emily! You're acting like a fucking child!"

Emily ripped herself away from him, anger bubbling up now as they stared each other down. "I'M acting like a child? You've been giving me the silent treatment for DAYS Dean! I had to do something to force you to talk to me! You've been avoiding me ever since that night, and it's been making me sick!" Her voice carried across the room and the flinch of Dean's expression wasn't lost on her even as his hands balled up at his sides. "I knew if I followed you guys there, you'd flip your shit, I knew this would get to you, so let's hear it! Have it out with me. Tell me how horrible I am, tell me how I'll never be as good as Lisa..." she trailed off, tears prickling in her eyes as she said the words out loud. "Leave me like everyone else does. I'm too much of a liability for you, and we both know it."

"Shut up." Dean's voice was deadly quiet as he returned his gaze to hers, his eyes burning holes into her eyes as he slowly stalked towards her, making her back into the wall. "Just shut up, Emily. You make me fucking crazy!" They'd hit the wall now, and Dean's palms came up to trap her between his chest and the solid wood behind her. "It scares me how much I feel for you, and when you said that stuff about Lisa and Ben, it reminded me why I shouldn't feel like this, it reminded me of what I put them through, what I put everyone who comes into my life through. I wasn't avoiding you because I hate you or I'm mad at you, I was avoiding you because I can't keep doing this to the people I love."

Her mouth dropped a little, her eyes snapping up to his at the words. "You love me?"

"Of course I do, Emily, isn't it obvious?" His lips found hers, and she melted around him, their tongues entwining as he dropped his arms around her waist to pull her tightly into him. She was so lost in the moment, in the kiss, in the words he'd just said, that she didn't even feel him tugging her skirt down at first until she broke away and it was in a pool at her feet. Dean's eyes stayed on hers, and he brought up the pad of his thumb to her cheek, stroking it gently as he smiled at her. She smiled back, reassured, her mind drifting to lovemaking, even as his hand dropped to her arm and his fingers wrapped around her again. "And I think now that we've made it pretty clear what my feelings are and what my intentions are, that I start reminding you of who's in charge and why you're supposed to obey my orders."

"W-what? Dean, wait! But you just-"

"I just told you I love you. And sweetheart, you deserve this spanking more then you've probably ever deserved one before," he chuckled a little as he lead the still stunned girl over to her bed, shoving the makeshift "Emily" out of the way so he could sit, pulling her to stand between his knees. "If you'd given me a chance to come to you, we'd probably be doing a lot more pleasant things right now. But instead you acted on your impulses, which unfortunately for you darlin', aren't great. You pissed Sam off, you pissed me off, and worse, you could've given away our location. I want nothing more then to bend you over this bed and make you mine over and over again, but you chose violence. So violence you get."

Unceremoniously she found herself tipped over his knee, her upper body meeting the mattress while he deftly swept his other leg over hers to pin her down. "Dean!" She squealed, reaching back instinctively to cover her vulnerable butt, but he was quicker and he grabbed her wrist gently, pinning it to the small of her back.

"No, Em," he said quietly, his hand rubbing over her cheeks gently. She was wearing a thong, so there was no protection, no layers, and she felt her face heat up again. No matter how many times he'd seen her ass, it still embarrassed her to no end being in this position. "You know how I work, you know how I operate. I don't go around spanking every woman in life, but you're one of us, regardless of our relationship, and you'll continue to be punished when you act out in ways that put your life in danger."

Emily sniffled, feeling thoroughly chastised before he'd even started in on her. "Did you ever spank her?" She managed to get the words out, even when she felt his stomach contract against her hips as he sucked in a breath. There was a long, quiet moment between them, Dean's hand still on her bare flesh.

"No," he finally said, his voice laced with a twinge of sadness. "I didn't. We didn't have this kind of life together. And she wasn't in a habit of putting herself in danger," he gave her a little pinch and she pouted in spite of herself. "But mostly, Emily, I wasn't ever really myself around Lisa. I was a different person. I was who she needed me to be, for her and for her son. You've got me in all my pig-headed glory, as Sam likes to put it."

She felt his hand move, the time for talking had clearly ended and she braced herself, burying her face into the soft blanket to steady her breathing. Dean squeezed her wrist reassuringly and then it started, his hand falling swiftly onto her upturned cheeks, making quick work of her warm-up. They weren't particularly hard swats, but they were enough to get her feet drumming as the heat built up and the familiar sting began to form. Dean always moved in stages, the warm up first, then the "second round" as she liked to call it, when he picked his pace up and kept on a steady incline until she was begging him to stop. Just as predicted, the spanks began to fall harder, one after the other, covering her whole bottom down to the back of her thighs and then it began again. He liked to keep the pattern varied so she couldn't anticipate it, two swats to her cheeks then one to her thigh, then another to the sensitive curve where bottom met leg, no spots left untouched. It was getting harder to keep still and she kicked, but there was nowhere to go, her wrist stiffened in his grasp and he let her go so he could adjust her over his knee, taking a moment to stop and rub her gently, allowing her a moment to compose herself. Then his finger hooked into the tiny band of her thong and he tugged it down, lifting his leg so it fell all the way to the floor and then she was stuck again. "Dean!" She whined, pushing herself up on her elbows to look back at him indignantly. As if the thong had provided any protection at all, just a sliver of dignity.

"You know the rules," he chided her gently, and then he began again, starting what Emily called "final round" in his spanking process, the hardest swats, the ones that made her toes curl, that hit deep into her tailbone, that lifted her soft cheeks with each stroke of his hard hand, and she let herself cry now, burying her face into her hands as Dean landed spank after spank onto her tender flesh, which was now a very angry and very splotchy red. He kept it up until he could feel all the fight leaving her, until she stopped pushing against him, until her feet went still and the only sound in the room was her soft crying and his hand meeting her ass.

"Do you feel better?" He gently lifted her from his knee and stood her in front of him again, his hands taking hold of her wrists gently again and drawing them to her sides so he could see her tear stained face clearly. It hadn't been that much of a spanking, honestly, usually Emily didn't consider it a real punishment if Dean didn't use some sort of implement on her, but she had felt so much better and so much worse all at once with every emotion and word that had been exchanged that she felt more drained and exhausted as she would've if he'd taken his belt to her. She nodded quietly, not quite meeting his gaze until he drew her down onto his lap, her still flaming bottom making contact with his knee in a way that made her gasp. But instead of letting her dwell on it, he wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly, so tightly she could feel his heartbeat against hers. "I love you, Emily. I won't ever let anything happen to you. Not ever."

She continued to cry as she clung to him, until she had exhausted herself thoroughly and pulled back. Dean leaned in to give her a soft peck on the lips, his lips so gentle she could barely feel them. "You still have to face Sam, little girl."

Emily's eyes widened and she pulled back, gulping. "Fuck!"

 

Sam was in the library when a still teary-eyed Emily emerged from her room with Dean behind her, a hand pressed firmly to her lower back. Part of her understood, understood Sam's anger and frustration at her, but the other, more stubborn part of her, was not amenable to a second punishment by her boyfriend's (boyfriend? Was that what he was now?) younger brother. It wasn't fair, she reasoned to herself as Dean walked her to her doom, Dean had already spanked her AND they had already cleared the air. From the amount of yelling Sam had done in the car, she was pretty sure he wasn't going to be trying to hear her out any time soon. Her bottom still stung, not badly enough that she thought she was bruised, no, it had definitely been a light punishment by Dean standards, but she knew that this was not going to be a picnic. And it felt...weird. Off. Dean wanted to be with her, he wanted her as his, he'd made it very clear to her and yet he was allowing his brother to punish her too? Was that normal?

Were they normal? Emily snorted to herself at the thought. Normal wasn't something that was in a Hunter's vocabulary, there was nothing normal about them or about their life, or lifestyle. Spanking's by men you were gifted to seemed to be, almost as regular an occurrence as seeing ghosts and demons were. Her heart beat a little faster when the door opened and there was Sam, angrily typing something on his laptop. He didn't even glance up, his face etched into a picture of calm frustration. Emily stood there awkwardly, fidgeting with the edge of the tee shirt she'd changed into after Dean's "talk" with her. Dean cleared his throat loudly, the only thing that made Sam look up, eyebrows raised. Emily blushed and looked at the ground and Dean took that opportunity to propel her further into the room not stopping until he'd lead her into one of the empty corners between two bookshelves, planting her nose there firmly. She immediately whined at the childish implications and Dean answered with a resounding SMACK to her shorts-clad backside that made her squeal. "Uh-uh," he chided, his hand finding the back of her neck and pressing her nose back to the stark white corner. "Sam and I are going to talk, your nose is going to stay right here and you are going to think of what you're going to say to Sam when he comes back in. If he finds you out of the corner, I'll tan your hide again sweetheart."

Emily stamped her foot, not at all helping the juvenile aspect of it all, and opened her mouth to protest again but Dean was quicker and two more stunning spanks hit the backs of her thighs, immediately making her contrite again. Tears prickling the back of her eyelids, she leaned her forehead against the wall and felt Dean step back, making a satisfied click of his tongue. "Good girl," he teased her slightly, and if she hadn't been facing the wall, she would've stuck her tongue out at him.

Emily felt Dean leave the room and she rolled her eyes, moving her hands back to rub her stinging rear. This was the worst thing he'd ever done, she would've taken a belting over having to stand here like a naughty toddler in time out, and she was pretty sure that Dean knew that and it was why he'd chosen this very punishment for her. Sam and Dean stayed out in the hall for awhile, Emily wasn't sure how long exactly, but it felt like forever. While they were gone, she did exactly as Dean had suggested and thought. She thought about Sam's reaction to her showing up there, thought back to his warning in the living room when she'd been pushing Dean, thought about all the talks he'd given her, the warnings, the insight into Dean's past. She'd taken all of that and shoved it right back into his face by showing up and putting them all in danger. She was pretty sure his anger came not just from the fact that she had disobeyed orders, but that she had betrayed him. He tried so hard with her and she just kept letting him down.

Tears had started to drip down her face without her even realizing it, hot and salty they fell in little rivers down her cheeks, and her shoulders slumped. She was so ashamed. She didn't even realize that Sam had come back into the room until she felt Sam's hand on her shoulder and she automatically turned into him, throwing her arms around his waist and burying her wet face into his tee shirt, sobbing brokenly. Sam seemed surprised by the reaction, it took him a moment to return her hug, but once he had wrapped his own long arms around her and squeezed her tightly, she felt better. Pulling backwards, she looked up to his face and saw that his expression had changed, no more silent fury, just disappointment. The "dad" face as she liked to call it in her head. He took her arms in his hands and held her back a little so they were face to face before he spoke, his voice quiet.

"I'm really upset with you, Emily. I vouched for you. I stuck my neck out for you. I told you to quit and that we'd figure it out and you went behind my back," she lowered her gaze at his words, her cheeks burning crimson in embarrassment. Letting down Sam was the worst feeling in the world. Dean? Dean was easy to anger, he was easy to incite a reaction from, he forgave easily and he punished without hesitation. But Sam didn't. Sam was gentle and kind and patient. He was the big brother she used to fantasize about when she'd dreamed about having a normal family, a mom and a dad, a little sister who copied her and a big brother who protected her. That was Sam.

"I'm sorry," she said tearfully, her voice cracking a little with sincerity. "I really am, Sam. I never think before I do anything. I let you down."

He stared at her for a long moment, eyes not giving away much before he nodded in agreement, letting go of one of her arms. "Thanks for saying that, Em. My trust isn't given easily and it's not going to come back easily. But it's a start."

He was leading her towards the desk now, and that was when she saw it through her haze of sadness and regret, sitting on top of the desk as plain as day, so innocuous to a normal eye but to Emily? It was a jolt.

A paddle.

It wasn't a large paddle, not like those fraternity ones she'd seen in movies or saw hanging in rich guy's offices on jobs, no, it was a smaller paddle, long and thin, it looked like it was weathered, made from solid cherry wood, and the handle was short and stocky, just long enough for Sam's hand to wrap around it. Sam seemed to feel her pull back slightly and he shook his head, sighing a little. "Emily." His tone was warning and she looked to him, her eyes frantic.

"You're not...you can't...hit me with that?" She said incredulously, and at that, Sam finally smiled, a tiny, tight smile, but a smile nonetheless.

"I can, and I will," he responded plainly. "This was our dad's. He reserved it only for the most serious of infractions. His dad made it. Three generations of Winchester asses have been busted by this thing, and now you're about to join the ranks." He picked it up, testing the weight in his hand, and even Emily didn't miss the small grimace he made as if remembering how it felt himself.

"Sam!"

"Emily!" He mimicked back, shaking his head at her. The repentance he'd gotten from her earlier seemed to be fleeting in the face of this serious punishment. "Dean and I talked. You're getting ten. That's it. You can and you will handle it. And if you want to start earning my trust back, I'd suggest you start showing me that you really mean it when you said you're sorry. Bend over the desk, please." The formality of it would've made Emily laugh under normal circumstances but now? Now it was making her dizzy, her head spinning at the prospect of getting ten strokes with that beastly looking thing. But Sam was right. She did this to herself and she had broken his trust. She deserved it and she was a grown-ass woman who could handle herself and this little paddle of his.

So she bent over. Her shorts weren't much protection but Sam tugged them down anyway, and he paused, seeming to be assessing the pinkness of her skin. He placed the paddle next to Emily's turned cheek, so she was staring right at the grainy wood. She bit her lip as Sam ran a hand over her bare ass, and when he spoke again she almost jumped out of her skin, so concentrated she was on that horrid instrument of torture. "I'm giving you a warm up first, so your skin doesn't bruise when I switch to the paddle."

"Wow how thoughtful," she spat under her breath, and Sam seemed to catch the roll of her eyes because a sharp sudden spank was the reply, followed by another three, evenly across both cheeks. "Ow, Sam! What the hell?"

"Language," he said sharply, landing one more hard spank. "That was for the eyeroll and the sarcasm. Let's refocus ourselves, shall we? You are getting spanked, and you are going to be respectful while you are or you're going to get strokes added. Is that what you want?"

"No," she sniffed, the fight moving out of her at the threat. Another sharp slap answered.

"No?" She groaned, knowing exactly what he wanted to hear even though she was loathe to force the words from her mouth.

"No sir," she said quietly. That seemed to get his approval because the next spanks he landed were gentler, for Sam at least. A uniform pattern that he always stuck to continued across her bare globes, her flesh screaming in protest as he re-brought a bright pink to her tender flesh. The hand spanking lasted all of five minutes, but when he was done, she was relieved. Until he reached over to pick up the paddle. He moved to her right side and his free hand pressed her firmly down against the wood of the desk, leaving no room for escape.

"I won't make you count this time, but you're going to stay in position and you're going to think about why you're here," he said firmly, his voice leaving no room for argument. Tears prickling again, Emily just nodded and repeated her earlier "yes sir," knowing it was what he wanted to hear.

"Good." There was a small moment of silence and then a whoosh of air as he drew the paddle back and brought it down firmly across the top of her ass, lighting an immediate band of red on her cheeks and eliciting a yelp from the girl beneath him. He didn't hesitate now, CRACK! SMACK! SMACK! Three more hard spanks landed, each just barely overlapping the other down to her tender thighs. She screamed with each one, tears streaming down her face as the white hot pain lit into her backside. It was horrible, stinging worse then anything she'd ever experienced and she didn't know how another six was going to be possible. Counting helped her focus again and so she drew in a shaky breath and waited.

WHAP! CRACK! Five and six fell, and she bucked against his hand, but he didn't relent. SMACK SMACK! Seven and eight in succession, right on the tender sit spot of where her ass met thigh. She was sobbing now, the pain was so intense she was sure he was spanking right through to her soul. The last two were the hardest, one on her thigh and one on the very center and then the paddle landed next to her and it was done. She laid there, quietly weeping, letting the pain sift through her body, settling into a low, achy throb before she felt Sam's hands on her again, carefully tugging up her shorts, carefully helping her stand, her body feeling stiff from the hard edge of the desk digging into her hips. Her ass burned horribly, but she felt strangely better. Like guilt had been literally beaten out of her.

"It's done," Sam soothed, pulling her in for a hug. She allowed him to hold her, letting him stroke her hair softly, while she allowed the last of her tears to fall. When they finally pulled apart, Sam affectionately ruffled the top of her head, and slung his arm around her shoulder. "Guess it's really official now, you got paddled like we did, you're a Winchester."

She let out a shaky laugh through the tears, wiping them away on the back of her hand as she gave him a watery smile. "I guess so."

That evening while Emily laid on her side, careful not to let her burning ass hit the mattress, reading a chapter of her book, she didn't so much as flinch when Dean came to lay beside her. She just snuggled her sore ass into his hips and sighed contentedly. She felt whole. She felt at home.

She felt loved.

Chapter 15: Welcome To The Jungle

The day things had changed was rainy, gloomy.

Everyone had been on edge that day, the weather setting them up for bickering and bad moods, trapped again in another day of bunker, stale takeout, and mindless flipping through channels. Dean and Emily had emerged from a few blissful weeks of settling into their relationship, constant sex, all the lovey-dovey, sappy, googly eyes at each other that often made Sam disappear for hours on end, but it had resolved into normalcy as the days dragged on and now here they were, fighting. Dean had threatened to spank her three or four times already that day, until Emily had flipped him off and locked herself in her room with her book, just to get away from them. No one had bugged her and she had started really getting into the latest apocalyptic fantasy series when she heard yelling.

Not normal yelling.

It was Bobby's voice, Castiel's, Dean and Sam intermixed, and somewhere in there, she heard a female voice. Pained, moaning, hurt. Emily had tossed her book aside and rushed out to the living room of the bunker to find utter chaos, Bobby covered in blood and Castiel kneeling over the body of what looked like a young woman but she was also covered in so much blood it was hard to tell for sure who she was or what her age was. Dean and Sam were crowded around them all, both of them speaking over each other as they tried to decipher what was happening until Castiel lost his cool and bellowed "ENOUGH" forcing everyone to fall silent, except for the bleeding girl's whimpers of pain. Emily stood in the center of the room, wide-eyed, trying to take it in before finally moving to Bobby's side. The older man was panting heavily, and Emily went to work ushering him to a chair so she could check him over for injuries.

"Not me," he managed to grunt out, reaching for water and taking a few swigs of it, which seemed to help calm him enough to talk. "Blood is hers.' Ezreil's latest victim. He knew it would draw us out. He was waiting. He slaughtered a whole group of hunter's who answered the call for help."

Castiel was healing the girl, the white light around him as he worked was evident of that, but he didn't speak, clearly also listening to Bobby's story with a keen gaze, as if he already knew what had happened but wanted to hear it reiterated. Sam and Dean came to Bobby's side too, nodding at him to continue.

"She's a hunter, young 'un, but a good hunter. Not sure how Ezreil got his hands on her, but all I know is we got the call that he'd captured one of us, and we responded. She was traveling with a group of 'em, he killed them all before we even made it there. It was a bloodbath, dead hunters, dead demons, that sonuvabitch Ezreil standing there like he was disappointed with it all. We think he was trying to draw you two idjits out, think he reckoned you'd answer the call and he could leverage you or somethin'. Her name's Claire, what I gathered."

Bobby stopped talking as Castiel's light faded and he was able to help the young woman up. She was still covered in so much blood that it was hard to see where it ended and she began, but there was a fierce sadness in her eyes that Emily recognized, the same look she'd had after she had found her dad. Before she could speak, Castiel did, looking to the two Winchester brother's with an urgency Emily knew meant trouble. "She needs to stay here for now, where she will be safe." His voice was low and authoritative, leaving no room for argument. "Ezreil has crossed a line. He killed ten hunters tonight in this vain attempt to get Emily, but he has now caught the attention of both Lucifer AND God. If Lucifer views Ezreil as a credible threat, we believe he will dispatch him himself, however, failing that, God has ordered us to track him and tear him apart. We haven't seen this much destruction since Crowley."

Sam looked to the girl and then back to Castiel, incredulously. "What are we supposed to do with her, Cas? What if she's got tracking on her? We don't know if she's trustworthy."

"She is," Castiel cut him off smoothly, even as Emily saw Claire open her mouth to angrily defend herself. "She was bait. Her companions are dead and she is unsafe now that Ezreil has seen his plan in action."

The girl's shoulders slumped at the words "dead companions" and Emily felt a wave of protective sadness wash over her. She was like Emily, alone and thrust into a world she hadn't asked for.

"Come on," Emily stepped forward to take the girl's arm, looping it through hers. "You can shower in my room while the boy's get your place ready. There's another room next to mine." She looked to Dean, giving him a hard stare that clearly said "just fucking do it," before she lead her out and away from the commotion. The men were still talking angrily amongst each other as Emily closed the door to her room and lead the girl to the bathroom.

"Here," she handed her a towel and got the water running. "Get cleaned up and we can talk. I know this is a lot." She didn't know where this gentle maturity was coming from, but she could sense the girl standing before her needed stability and directions now that the shock of her injuries was gone and grief was going to hit her at any moment. Regardless of who she was or how Emily felt about this sudden development, they both needed time to process. Ezreil had slaughtered an entire group of Hunters just to get to her. If Sam and Dean had gotten the call and gone, they could've easily been among those numbers. And Bobby, how had he escaped it? And this girl, Claire, why had she been chosen? What was her connection to them? Was it to the demons or was it simply because she was well known in their world? A sense of panic welled in her throat as she debated all of these possibilities, but she tried her best to stay calm, and focus on what this woman might need when she emerged. She was taller then Emily was, but she was sure she could fit into some night shorts and a tank top, so Emily busied herself with pulling those out along with some personal items until she could get to Sam and Dean and figure out what they were going to do with her.

The girl stayed in the shower for a long time, even through the sound of the running water, Emily could hear her sobbing. She didn't pry, letting her take her time, letting her grieve, and when the water finally turned off and she could hear Claire getting out, Emily arranged her features into a look of calm and stood, knocking on the door and calling, "Hey, I've got some clean clothes here, they should fit you." The door opened a crack, releasing a rush of steam as the girl reached out to take them, giving Emily a tight smile.

"Thanks," her voice held an accent, southern, sweeter than Emily would've guessed would come from a Hunter. Like a little southern belle, she'd thought as she smiled back and allowed Claire to dress herself. When Claire had fully emerged from the bathroom, Emily was finally able to get a look at her sans all the blood and gore. Claire's gaze was wary and guarded, but she edged herself into the room and sat on the end of Emily's bed. Claire was pretty, a good few inches taller than she was, but slender and willowy, blonde and pale-skinned, Emily would've described her as delicate if it wasn't for the various scars literally her arms and legs, the fierceness in her brown eyes. She was sizing up Emily at the same time as Emily was sizing her up and before Emily could speak again, the girl's eyes had narrowed a little.

"You're Parker's kid, aren't you?" The mention of her dad was like a gut punch. "I recognize you. We all thought you might be dead, we were mighty confused when ole' demon showed up asking about you. All this time, you were holed up here? Hiding?"

There was a slight edge of accusation in her tone, enough that Emily felt uncomfortable, guilty. "I'm obviously not dead," she retorted finally, her arms coming to cross over her chest. "I'm Emily Parker."

"Claire Jackson," the girl responded, her body relaxing slightly as she surveyed Emily's room. "We met once, few years ago. My mom was Amelia Jackson, think she knew your dad." Emily didn't remember the girl, she didn't remember her mom, although the name did register as familiar. "Mom died, cancer, and I took up with a group of Hunters down in Nashville, been with them the last few years."

The wash of sadness that overtook the girl on the bed made Emily relax, and she came to sit next to her. "I'm sorry about your friends, your family," she said gently, resting a hand on her shoulder. "My dad was killed last year, a demon took him. Same one that killed my mom. That's how I ended up here with the Winchesters." She glanced to the door as if saying their names might summon them to the room. "Ezreil started after me by accident. We weren't really sure why, not at first. To be honest, I still don't really understand it-"

The door opened then and the girls looked up to find all four men standing outside of the frame. "You guys doing okay?" Sam spoke first, clearly still shaken from whatever they'd been talking about while the girl's were gone. "Claire, I got the room next door set up, Bobby's gonna go get you stuff tomorrow but tonight we're gonna stay put. We think Ezreil may still be waiting out there."

Claire stood then, and gone was any earlier trace of sadness, replaced with a fleeting bravado that would've made Emily smile if it wasn't so horrific what she'd gone through. "Look, I appreciate the place to stay for the night, I appreciate the hospitality of y'all, but I won't be staying here. Not long-term, at any rate." Emily hid her grin, she sounded so much like Emily had that it was almost comical. Surprisingly, Castiel was the one who stepped forward, speaking in a clear, clipped voice like he always did, but under was an edge that Emily hadn't heard from him in awhile.

"No," he stared her down, matter-of-factly. "You will stay here for now. While you will not be coerced into anything long term, while Ezreil roams the earth, you are unsafe and you will be hunted again. I do not believe for a moment that Ezreil had planned to let you leave alive. If not for Bobby's quick thinking, you'd be with your companions currently. You need to come with me now and tell me everything that happened, leading up to the aftermath of this mess and ANYTHING he may have mentioned about Sam, Dean, or Emily."

Claire, to her credit, shut her mouth and surveyed the Angel in front of her calmly. She was clearly a hunter, and unlike Emily, she didn't seem all that eager to fight them on it. "Fine," she shrugged, and followed Castiel, roughly pushing past Dean and Sam, who both turned and gave Emily a 'do you believe this chick?' look. "The sooner that bastard is dead and out of our hair, the better."

Emily shrugged back at the boys, also trailing a look after Claire as she left with Castiel. She was tough, that was for sure. She couldn't have been more then a year older than Emily, but she acted like she had been on the earth for centuries. The hard life of a Hunter would do that to a person.

"She seems nice," she said cheerfully, which caused Bobby to bust out laughing.

"Woooeee boys, you gotch your hands FULL if that ain't the truth," he was still laughing as he walked away, and Emily finally exhaled the breath she felt like she'd been holding in since Claire had arrived. "Is what they said true? Ezreil killed all those hunters to get to me? But why? What does he think he's going to do with me?"

"I don't know," Dean said gravely, rubbing a hand across the thick stubble growing on his jaw. "Cas thinks that maybe Ezreil believes you can be a powerful vessel for him in the war he's beginning against Lucifer. He also believes he may think your power can be used to kill the Angel's." Emily's face drained of color and she couldn't stop the small gasp that escaped her lips, and as Dean stepped forward to draw her in for a hug, Sam finished the thought for him. "Castiel thinks that Ezreil plans to possess you then use you as a weapon, far more powerful than he would get with a normal person."

The thought chilled Emily to the bone. She had spent her whole life chasing these unholy things with her father, but she had never felt scared of them, the inexplicable power she had had always made her feeling wholly safe. The idea that there was someone who believed he could break past that barrier and turn her into the same kind of monster she'd always hated was more then she could was more then she could fathom. Taking a deep shuddering breath, Emily pulled herself away from Dean and studied them both. "We can't keep on like this. He can't keep killing people in my name. I won't let him. It's time we come up with a plan and I fight like I'm supposed to-don't give me that look Dean, you know what I'm saying isn't wrong- Ezreil killed ten of us, according to Claire, ten. If he's just going to keep slaughtering his way through Hunter's in order to get to me, we have to stop him."

"Maybe you're right, Emily," Sam was the one to surprise her and concede, even as Dean threw him the darkest look she'd ever seen. "But we aren't acting yet. You heard what Cas said, God has taken notice and so has Lucifer, there's a good chance that Ezreil is gone already. A week, then we can talk about action."

"Sam, can I speak to you privately?" Dean's voice was incredibly strained as he shoved his brother out into the hall and in the direction of the library, and Emily knew it wasn't going to be a pleasant fight to witness, so she stayed where she was. She was so lost in her thoughts that she didn't even notice Claire had returned to her room until her voice cut through the quiet, startling Emily.

"Well, Nephilim explains why you're so pretty," she smiled at Emily and moved past her to flop onto the bed. "I don't think I've ever met one in real life, I kinda thought they were just urban legends. Shoulda known, huh? Sounds like I'm stuck here for a few weeks with the notorious Winchester's," she was mocking them, and it was so comical that Emily actually laughed out loud. "Though I don't know if they're more notorious for their hunting or for having giant sticks up their asses."

"Careful, if they hear that they'll bust yours," Emily grinned back at Claire who snorted and patted the spot next to her. Another woman in the house would be nice, it'd been a very long time since Emily could remember staying in a place long enough to make a girlfriend. "They mean well, they're just very into this "Hunter's code" shit, and they're not afraid to let you know you're fucking up."

"Oh sweetie, please, I'm twenty-two years old, I've been hunting just as long as either of them. They can shove that Hunter's code right up their stuffy, tight-"

"You probably don't want to finish that sentence," Sam appeared suddenly in the doorway, scaring both the girls which caused them to dissolve into a puddle of giggles. Sam sighed, surveying the two of them. Bobby's right about one thing, this is gonna be a tough few weeks with these two. "Come on, Claire, let me show you to where you'll sleeping and give you a tour of the place. Bobby's taking the couch tonight Em, can you make sure he's got a blanket and pillow?"

"Oh yessir," Claire gave Sam a fake salute, which caused his frown to deepen and Emily to giggle harder as she stood to follow them out. Claire gave her a wink and a quick hand squeeze as she left. Emily continued to grin as she went to find the extra bedding for Bobby, for a moment the gravity of the situation they were in forgotten.

 

It turned out that Emily and Claire had a lot in common, although it was becoming readily more apparent that Claire was far more spunky then Emily had even fathomed from that first night. She was a consistent back-talker, and her witty comebacks were becoming pretty legendary, but beyond that, beyond the tough-as-nails exterior she had a good heart. The first couple of days in the bunker Claire had taken some time to grieve her friends, she told the trio a lot of stories about their escapades together, how they'd all met and come to form a sort of mismatched family, and they traded stories about growing up in the world of hunting. As it was, Claire had a lot in common with the Winchester's as well, they'd both grown up with hardened, highly trained parents who expected a lot out of them and weren't afraid to show their disappointment. Claire knew Jo and Ellen too, they'd passed through Ellen's tavern many a time and Dean grinned at that, remarking how alike she was with Ellen's sassy young daughter. Claire had given him a look that made Emily dissolve into giggles and she'd dragged her new friend away before Dean could get the chance to be pissed off.

Now a week had come and gone, while the girl's had become fast friends and the boys had mostly left them alone, wrapped up in planning and strategizing, a lot of phone calls and checkins with Bobby and Castiel, Emily could tell that Claire was itching to get out of there. And away from the boys. The girl was a Hunter through and through, a tougher and more honed one then Emily would probably ever be, and because of that she could see that her and the boys were going to be butting heads. And butt heads they did.

"She ain't a little girl," hands on hips, Claire was staring Dean down with a look of pure venom in her eyes. "You keep treating her like one, but she's clearly an adult Dean Winchester. Threatenin' to spank her every other minute of the day ain't gonna change that."

Emily stood a step behind her, eyes wide as she watched the scene unfold. Dean had just been lecturing her about the amount of disrespect that had been going on with the two of them, normal for him, normal for them, but clearly not normal for Claire. She was an alpha, used to being around other alphas, and the hierarchy that the Winchester's had established bothered her, deeply. She'd said as much to Emily one night when they'd stayed up late chatting, Emily had been telling Claire about her relationship with Dean, about how she loved and hated how protective he was, which had segwayed into the story about her first experience running away when she'd gotten with them. Claire was no stranger to whoopin's, as she called them, but she had never had one from a boyfriend, or another Hunter for that matter. She told Emily it was weird, but it explained a lot of the rumors she'd heard about John Winchester and his boys. After declaring quite firmly that she would never have to worry about that, Emily had snorted and rolled over, telling her "good luck with that," although deep down there was a pang of intense jealousy at the thought of Dean ever spanking Claire the way he did her. Deserved or not.

"Listen sweetheart," Dean ground out, his finger already up in her face. "You stay with us, you live by our code. Not yours. Emily knows the rules we've established here, she also knows the consequences. You're a guest but you ain't immune to it either. Keep up the cute little backtalk and I'll show you how serious I am about it."

Claire snorted, as unladylike a sound Emily had ever heard and Emily knew she was done for, so she stepped in. She wasn't going to let her friend get spanked, not by Dean, and even though it was humiliating to think about, even though Emily had hated every second of every whipping she'd ever gotten, she had also gotten used to it, used to the threats and the actions. Claire wasn't. She knew there were other hunter's out there who went by the same code John Winchester had established, but Claire had only ever been spanked by her parents, the group she'd run with after her mom's death had been young, reckless, but effective. They were not the same.

"She's right, you know," Emily spoke up, elbowing her friend aside so she could get in Dean's face then. She adopted the snotty pose she knew he hated so much, cocking one hip, one hand up to pick at her nails, a sneer on her otherwise pretty face. "I'm pretty tired of your bullshit too, Dean. It's not Claire's fault she's stuck here with us, and you aren't making things any easier by bullying everybody all day long."

"Bullying?" Dean repeated, his eyes looking like they were going to bulge out of his head. Phew, crisis averted. "Oh darlin' you just love digging your own grave, don't you? Been awhile since we've had to re-establish roles here, you can tell Claire here thank you for reminding me why you've been so out of control this past week."

He'd snatched her arm up before she could move away and even Claire's, "Hey! Let her go, you asshole!" didn't stop him from pulling her away from the group and down the hall. Behind her, she could hear Sam's normally calm tone picking up in Claire's direction, a tinge of anger simmering beneath it.

"You and I should go talk too, Claire. We'll lay out some ground rules for you while you stay with us." Emily couldn't hear the colorful response she was sure Claire was giving Sam before Dean had pulled her into her room and shut the door.

"What the hell is going on with you, Emily? It's like week one all over again, this chick is influencing you that much?" Dean turned to stare her down, arms crossed over his chest. Fighting the urge to roll her eyes at him, she took a deep breath and looked up to his green eyes, a sudden pang of want hitting her chest. He was so handsome, every time she looked at him, really looked at him, it hit her all over again that he was hers.

"Come on Dean, give her a break. You know what she's been through, and clearly she didn't run in the circle you did, this is weird for her. She's not used to rules."

"Not being used to rules is what got all her friends killed, Em," his voice was somehow gentle and hard all at once, and he moved his hands to her arms, pulling her closer to him, bending down a little to stare straight into her eyes. "She is a great hunter, we knew her mom, my dad knew her mom, this world isn't strange to her. She may have broken out of it when her mom passed, but that doesn't mean she didn't grow up with the exact same code Sam and I did. She knows better. And whether we like it or not, she's here with us until Ezreil's been eliminated. I'm sure Sam is giving her the riot act now, so don't go feeling all to sorry for yourself. Or her."

He moved his arm to sling around her shoulder and she cringed, immediately recognizing the move as less affectionate and more in order to trap her as he lead her towards her bed. "Dean," she whined, trying to pull away from him, but he merely tightened his hold and continued to pull her along until he was sitting and she was trapped between his sturdy thighs. "I do not want a spanking."

"Want and need are two different things, sweetheart," Dean shrugged, pushing up the sleeve of his long-sleeved tee, revealing the tanned, muscled forearms that usually made her swoon. "Claire didn't force you to start mouthing off all the time, I think it's been a little too long since you had a reminder."

Emily made a last ditch effort at distraction, lacing her arms around his neck and pressing his face into her flat stomach, his arms coming around instinctively to encircle her waist. "I mean, it's been a little too long since something baby," she said huskily, burying her fingers into his hair. She felt him inhale against her and she smiled triumphantly, believing she'd won as his hands moved down to cup her ass and squeeze, but just as quickly as it began, he had moved against her, flipping her confidently over his knee so her upper body landed on the bed and he'd pinned her legs down with his free one. "Deaaaaan!" She whined automatically, but the only reply was a mighty wallop against her denim clad rear.

"Nice try, sweetheart," he breathed out, sending a second spank to her other cheek, making her squeal. She balled her hands into fists, the sting not really permeating through the thickness of her jeans, just an annoying sting and she couldn't help the attitude that immediately rose in her being stuck in this position, one she hated more then she could put into words. "If you think you can manipulate me that easily, you've got another thing coming."

"Oh I know I can manipulate you that easy," she retorted sourly, pushing herself up against him, irritation dripping from every fiber of her body. "Let me up, Dean, you made your stupid point."

"Clearly not," the playfulness that had been there in his tone earlier had all but vanished, and she knew she'd pissed him off, cursing herself inwardly for being unable to control her temper. "Clearly you've been asking for this for awhile now, little girl. What kind of partner would I be if I didn't give you what you need?"

He easily pushed her back down with his free hand, keeping his fingers pressed into the soft flesh of her hip as his other hand made easy work of yanking down her jeans and underwear to her knees, where his leg kept hers trapped. And then there was no more talking. His hand rose and fell against her smooth bottom cheeks, clapping back and forth until a rosy glow began to appear and Emily's whines had started to take on a pitiful tone, rather then indignant. God, it hurt. It was like everytime they'd gone more then a few weeks without one, she was able to block out how hard his hand was, how much it sucked to get her ass beat, how absolutely devestating it was that her boyfriend believed she needed to be disciplined like this. But she also couldn't deny the feelings it gave her after, when he held her and told her she was the best thing that ever happened to him, that sometimes it made her wet when he got that stern look in his eye, or sometimes when he called her "little girl," it made her want to jump him just as often as it annoyed her. What was wrong with her?

Luckily, Dean had broken through her thoughts as he paused the smacks to rub her heated skin, his lecture resuming. "You know why you're here, Emily, you earned this more then anyone else in this bunker, save for Claire, the attitude is out of control, and I can feel it dragging everyone else down too. We're all on edge, but you don't see me treating you like crap over it, right? Or Sam? Rules don't fall out of the window because a wrench got thrown at us. You're a hunter. You adapt and you do it with dignity. Tell me why you earned this."

The spanking resumed, onto her thighs, his long hands paddled back and forth and Emily gritted her teeth against the sharp stinging though she couldn't stop the "ah ah ah!" that fell from her lips as she struggled to speak through it. "Because I-I gave you...attitude, sir," she managed to spit, trying her hardest to lose the battle against the sass still boiling inside of her. It clearly wasn't working, because she heard Dean sigh and pause, moving his leg for a moment so he could pull her jeans and underwear all the way down her legs and then off.

"Clearly you'll be here for a little while longer," he spoke again, once again resting his hand against her heated skin. Emily tried to shut her mouth against the "fuck you," that was bubbling at her mouth, and she didn't even realize she'd said it out loud until Dean's fingers dug into her hips and she heard an incredulous, "Excuse me?" come from his lips.

"I-I didn't mean, damnit Dean, I-" Emily scrambled, pounding her small fist against the bedspread as she strained against him again, but Dean didn't waste a second before he had grabbed her arm and hauled her off the bedspread so that she was dangling precariously over his one knee, her forehead close to the floor, arms flailing out to catch herself although she wasn't going anywhere. He had clamped his legs back over hers again, and his free hand was once again around her waist, and this time, he didn't bother pausing the spanking to talk. No, in this position her ass was the highest point of her body, and her skin was pulled tight, nothing to hide, nowhere to go. The spanking hurt so much worse when he resumed on her already stinging skin, back and forth, back and forth, stunning spanks that left her breathless, her hands drumming on the floor below her as if it would help take the pain away.

"Apparently having Claire here is causing you to have a brain aneurysm if you think you can talk to me like that," the lecture continued and Emily couldn't stop the tears welling in her eyes at both the pain of the strikes and the disappointment she heard lacing his tone. Mad at herself for not being able to control her mouth, she squeaked out several "sorry! I'm sorry!"'s although it didn't stop him. No, the spanking continued on and on, as the sting in her rear end began to feel like she'd sat on a hive of very angry bees. "We treat each other with respect, Emily Sarah Parker, not just because we're hunter's but because we love each other. You don't say that to someone you love, you don't say that period." The spanking moved to her sit spots and she began to cry then, the misery of the pain and the misery of her error finally permeating her both brain and body.

"I'm sorry Dean! I'm sorry!" She cried pitifully, the fight leaving her body as he continued to rain down the spanks on her now very red, and very sorry backside. He spanked for only about thirty seconds longer before he stopped the spanking and helped her up so she was sitting gingerly on his knee, tears still falling. He rubbed her back soothingly, then pulled her into a hug, whispering sweet words in her ear as she continued to cry. "Shh, shh, it's over baby, it's over," she buried her face into his neck and breathed in the deep, woodsy masculine scent of his skin until she was soothed.

"I'm sorry, Dean, I shouldn't be acting like this towards you. I just...I don't know, it's so nice to have a friend. I shouldn't be treating you that way, I just got carried away," she hiccuped and sniffled, and Dean gave a small chuckle, his hand moving up to her neck to pull her down into a deep kiss. She melted into him, knowing she was not looking her best covered in tears and snot, but feeling so loved that he didn't care at all.

"Hey, now we can move on to more...sexy things, right?" He broke the kiss to grin at her again, wiggling his eyebrows at her suggestively and she laughed, feeling lighter then she had in awhile even with her stinging ass and wounded pride. As they tumbled into bed, she was reminded again of why she had fallen for this neanderthal of a man.

Chapter 16: I'm Not Your Friend

Sam and Claire were staring each other down in what Claire could only surmise was the library of this impossibly vast bunker. Surrounded by bookshelves, a desk, weird manuscripts and notepads, and way too many pens with caps missing to be healthy, Claire calculated her risk standing here with the taller of the Winchester brother's while behind her the sounds of raised voices and an unmistakable "SMACK" had been heard before Sam had firmly shut the door and turned around to face her. Claire had her arms crossed and her stance wide, the Hunter pose, the work pose, the "I'm not taking your shit" pose, while Sam had the opposite. He was tense, but his stance was friendly, open, clearly he was fighting to contain his anger while she wore hers like a badge of honor.

"You're okay with that, with your brother beating your roommate?" Claire cocked her head back and Sam snorted, a noise that surprised Claire visibly, as it didn't seem natural coming from him.

"Beating? You think that's what that is? Come on, Claire, you know better. Don't play this innocent charade with me, I know what your mom was like. No different from my dad. No different from Dean. What's happening between them, is between them. I think you being on your own changed you, and I can't say it was for the better. Want to talk about it?" He folded his long, lean body into a chair sitting in front of the desk, surveying her with a look that clearly said 'sit down if you know what's good for you.'

Did Claire know what was good for her? Probably not. She took a step backwards, shaking her head emphatically. "No, Sam, I most certainly do not want to discuss anything with you, but I reckon you think that you're gonna be able to shove all this macho bravado on me without a fight, and I know you ain't that dumb." Another step backwards, her eyes trained on his, exit firmly in the back of her mind.

Sam held up his hands again, another show of peace and she paused. "Look, I'm not trying to force anything on you. Dean and I are doing the best we can in the situation we were forced into. Emily's a great girl, she's special, and she's Dean's. She knows that, regardless of what she may have told you, and she accepts it. You've gotta get used to it if you're gonna last around here. We are trained Hunter's. You are too. Emily wasn't. She needed a lot of help and she needed guidance, and now? She's thriving here. So you've got options now too, Claire. The same ones she had. You're stuck with us whether you like it or not, but not in the way that Emily was, you're already trained, you already know our code. We don't stray from it. If you're scared of a few measly spanks, then you aren't as tough as you're pretending to be right now. And look, if you don't want to get spanked? It's easy. Don't fuck up. Don't do stupid shit. Don't mouth off to the biggest hot head in the house."

Claire grimaced at his words, but stayed in place. It was true that she was no stranger to discipline in the hunting world. Her mom had been famous for it. But she wasn't going back to that. Not now and not ever. When she'd broken away and formed her own band of Hunter's, the only code they lived by was "do the job and get out." None of them had ever thought of raising a hand to any of the other's and that was how she liked it. Threats didn't wield results in Claire's world, but fear did. "I am not going back to that lifestyle, Sam. I hated it. I was suffocating there. I became a much better hunter the second I was out of that, I trained harder and I fought more."

"And your entire group died." Sam's voice was flat, so much so that Claire flinched at the hardness in it. "Whether you ever want to admit it to yourself, that's up to you, but the fact is that you guys were unprepared for the danger you were facing and you suffered for it. You didn't have a plan, you didn't have a leader, you didn't have any discipline among yourselves. We do. We don't make mistakes like that because we don't need to lose anymore Hunter's. And whether you like it or not, you're here now. And you're going to be a better hunter because that's what we expect out of you. And if you mess up, you're gonna get the same thing Emily gets when she makes stupid choices, the same thing both Dean and I got when we made stupid choices."

"Oh so I can spank you then?" Claire's tone was so sassy that Sam almost wanted to laugh, but he couldn't let his guard down, not yet. So he grinned at her, the boyish face he'd always sported the picture of amusement.

"No. Because in this group, we have leaders. That's Dean and that's me. You haven't earned that for yourself, and if the show with Ezreil taught us anything, it's that you're probably not gonna be there for awhile."

He wasn't trying to be condescending, but Claire lost it at that, her anger boiling over to a point she couldn't handle, her pale face reddening, her fists clenching. "Fuck. You." She spat, so venomously that for a moment it reminded Sam of that first night with Emily, the anger she had held inside of her. "You ain't some high and mighty lord, you ain't the king of the hunter's, you ain't shit. You and your brother are nothin' but a bunch of women beater's getting your rocks off bossing everybody around. That ain't gonna work with me. I don't have to stick around, I ain't branded to you, you ain't my daddy."

She was so lost in her tirade that she barely registered that Sam was no longer sitting down, barely registered that he was slowly stalking towards her until he was right in her face and she was now staring up into an expression just as angry as she felt. "I ain't your daddy," he quietly ground out, his hand snaking out to catch her wrist before she had time to react. "But I can guarantee if I was, you'd think twice about what you just said to me."

Claire pulled back against him, her own anger still not dissipated, and before she realized what she was doing, she had turned on her fight mode and deftly spun herself under his arm, breaking the grasp he had on her wrist before she lifted her foot to slam into his shin, adopting a fighting pose that Sam was all too familiar with. She had been right, she wasn't Emily, and Sam should've been prepared for it, but he wasn't. It took him too long to react and by that time he was left with a throbbing leg. Luckily his senses caught up and he blocked the fist she sent careening his way with an easy catch, his hand fitting easily around her whole fist where he squeezed tightly, nonyielding. She tried to send her other fist into him, but he caught it too, and suddenly Claire was stuck. She raised her foot again to kick at his kneecap, but Sam was faster, with deadly accuracy he swept his leg beneath her's , making her lose her balance and without missing a beat, he'd released her fists and scooped her up over his shoulder, his arm tightly pinning her legs down, even as she regained her senses and beat at his back hard. He grunted and landed a stunning slap to her exposed backside, which she shrieked like a banshee at.

Sam had to get this under control. He knew he was losing this battle of wills quickly and until he had her subdued, she wasn't going to let up. She let out a string of colorful curses, punctuated by a sharp jab into his side that made him groan. "Fuck Claire! KNOCK IT OFF!" His voice boomed throughout the library but she didn't stop, and it wasn't until Sam had managed to locate the chair he'd been occupying earlier, he had to endure two more punches to his back that were sure to be bruises in the morning. Without hesitation, he flung her back to the ground and in no time at all had her pinned over one knee as he sat in one fluid motion. He pinned her legs immediately under his free one, and anticipating the reach back she was going to do, easily caught the fist she pushed back and shoved it beneath her stomach between her flat abs and his knee, effectively putting her out of use. She screeched again, and blonde hair flew as she twisted and fought tooth and nail, but Sam merely grit his teeth and raised his free hand, letting it fly against her sweatpant covered backside with a loud WHAP!

Again he struck, over and over across her vulnerable backside, hard and unyielding slaps that would've already had Emily bawling her eyes out, but Claire wasn't Emily, Claire had been spanked before and she was a fighter. She howled in rage, and called him every derogatory name she could think of and he said nothing as he continued the onslaught of spanks on her, until he could feel her tiring out. She was not crying, to her credit, but her body was so tense and so stiff, Sam knew that this wasn't getting him anywhere, it was completely ineffective if she was shutting down against him, so he paused. His hand came to rest on her backside, the heat already radiating from beneath her sweats, and he felt her flinch. "Are you ready to listen?"

"Fuck you Sam Winchester! You fucking let me up, you stupid, arrogant sonuvabitch!" Sam sighed, and instead of resuming the spanking, he decided to get on her level. He reached down and took a fistful of her long blonde hair in his hand, roughly forcing her head up so that she had no choice but to listen.

"No." He was getting angry. "No, Claire, you've had this coming since the second you walked into Ezreil's trap. You know you deserve it, you know you've been begging for one of us to do it since you got here. You wanted to piss me off? Congratulations, you've succeeded." He roughly let her go and her head dropped, though the tension didn't leave her body. His fingers found the waistband of her pants and he slowly peeled them down, taking no satisfaction in the frantic, horrified yelp she gave as he did so.

"No! No! Stop! Okay you made your point! Stop it!" But he didn't. Hardened determination coursed through his veins as he finished dragging them down, leaving her clad in only a thin pair of cheekies, her bottom, the skin as pale as it was on her face, already a bright, splotchy red.

"I didn't, though, did I? You've needed this. You deserve this. Take it like a Hunter and stop acting like a spoiled brat." Although she continued to struggle, he could hear the soft sound of a sniffle in there and immediately he began the spanking of her newly bared skin. She yelped and squealed and screeched at each and every swat she was given, her skin coloring beautifully under his hand. So different from Emily, who's skin was tan, her bottom round and plump and smooth, Claire's skin was so white, her bottom small and toned, the muscles in her thighs straining as he laid down spank after spank. He could see she was reaching her breaking point, her sniffles were louder now, her protesting beginning to wane into hoarseness, her body tiring. He continued on, spanking and swatting, moving up and down from her bottom to her thighs and back up, the red just deepening and deepening with each passing moment until suddenly she was crying, and limp, and he finally relented. He patted her glowing, red globes gently, as she continued to cry into her hands until he finally was able to pull her up and she stepped away from him.

So unlike Emily, who usually sought comfort after a spanking like that, Claire had yanked up her pants and was now across the room glaring at him just as before. He sighed again. He didn't have it him for round two, but he knew he couldn't just let her leave the way she was now, a ball of anger and rage and sadness.

"Claire, look," he spoke softly, but her eyes remained hard and without waiting for him to finish, she had turned on her heel and stalked from the library, slamming the door of it behind her. Sam stood, feeling strange. Guilty. Angry. Sad, even. Claire wasn't going to be easy, and although Sam sometimes enoyed a nice little fight, this one was leaving him feeling hollow and unfinished. Deciding he needed to seek out some counsel from his older brother, he also exited the library, pausing outside of Claire's closed door where he could just barely make out the sounds of quiet sobbing.

"Fuck." He muttered to himself, moving away from it before he did something he would regret; like go in there.

 

Two very different women were parked inside the small bedroom now.

Emily, sore but basking in the glorious afterglow of her love making with Dean, sat on the bed with a plastic hairbrush in her hand, pulling it soothingly through the very angry, very tense Claire's tangled blonde locks, the latter seated on the floor in front of her. Sam had knocked on the door shortly after they'd finished and Emily had begrudgingly gotten up from Dean's arms, pulling on some pajama bottoms and a tank top before Sam came in, pointedly ignoring Dean's boxer clad form.

"I think I messed up, man," he'd ran a hand through his hair and Dean had frowned at his brother's defeated demeanor, pulling his jeans back on as Sam continued, "I don't know how to handle her, I think we may be in way over our head's here. She's just so….angry."

Dean had sternly told Emily to leave Claire alone as he had left with Sam, and of course Emily had promptly ignored that once the boys were out of sight and entered the Hunter's room, finding her sobbing bitterly on the bed. It was so familiar to Emily, exactly how she'd behaved and felt after her first spanking here, but Claire wasn't Emily and she could see that this was much, much harder on Claire then it had ever been on her. She had gently coaxed the young woman into a hug and allowed her to rant about the barbarism of the Winchester's until she was spent emotionally, going quiet while Emily had moved her to the floor and gone to get a few hair ties and her hairbrush and gotten to work on brushing her hair. Claire had told Emily a story once about how her mama had used to brush her hair when she was stressed out and now she found it comforting, a reminder. She hadn't said anything when Emily had started, just gave a little sniffle of appreciation, both women quiet until Claire's voice cut back through the silence.

"Why do you let them treat you like this?" She had asked, not bothering to mask the low disgust in her voice with the implication. "You're a Nephilim, they should be fallin' all over themselves to please you, but they don't. And you let them." The tone turned slightly accusatory and Emily sighed, putting the brush down as she parted Claire's hair and got to work on twin dutch braids.

"It's not really about letting them, Claire," she spoke thoughtfully, for the first time in a long time realizing that she was having to face and confront the mixed feelings she had about the boy's brand of discipline. "Listen, I was just like you when I got here. I was angry, I was vicious to them, all I thought about was escape, revenge, and taking them for all they were worth. I know you think I'm weak because I let it happen, but I don't think you understand how I grew up." Claire didn't interrupt as Emily spoke, telling her about her father, about how he'd never trained her, never shown her any kind of true love or affection, using her solely for his benefit, how he'd died alone and she'd blamed herself for it, how she'd come to be with the Winchester's. She told Claire about her first spanking, about the first time she'd tried to escape, how they'd tracked her across the country and then helped her get closure on her father's death, even with the worst spanking of her life hanging over her head.

"So you see, I never had what you had. I never had a mom or dad who cared enough about me that they'd do anything in their power to make sure I stayed safe or who'd discipline me if I fucked something up, or who even cared to acknowledge when I made mistakes. I know this sounds so crazy and so…weird, but Dean spanking me makes me feel loved. It makes me feel safe, and cared about. And I know you don't think so, and I know that you just had the worst introduction in the world to Sam, but honestly if he spanked you? It means he cares about you too, Claire."

Claire was quiet still as Emily finished talking the same time she finished braiding, and Emily was about to stand to leave her alone when Claire turned suddenly, kneeling in front of Emily with her hands on Emily's legs, keeping her in place. "You're right, you do sound crazy," she cracked a small smile, which made Emily dissolve into giggles until both girls were caught up in the silliness of the moment, then Claire's grin faded and she grew serious again. "I don't want to stay here, Em. And honest to god, I don't think you should be stayin' here neither. This ain't healthy, none of it."

Emily's smile had also faded and she cocked a cool brow at Claire, feeling insulted and hurt at the insinuation. But Claire noticed and hurried on, "I don't really think you're crazy, I just think this ain't for me. I know you said you left once…how? Would you help me?"

Claire's face was eager and hopeful, her hands had come to clasp Emily's and Emily felt a tug of something in her heart, something like dread. "Claire…." She stood, helping Claire to her feet too as she went to set the hairbrush down on Claire's dresser, deep in thought. "I don't think you understand what you're asking. I don't think you're thinking about what you're asking. Did you hear me when I said that they tracked me down? Like I'm talking about the same day, Claire. They're better Hunter's then either of us will ever be, and they won't just let you go. And it's not because they're nuts or stalkers, Claire, it's cause they were told to keep you safe and they take that very, very seriously. You know that, right?"

Clearly though, Claire had made her mind up, her face hadn't changed one bit as Emily had spoken, and Emily cringed inwardly when her voice cut through between them, low and intense and excited, "Listen I ain't telling you you gotta come with me, I'm just telling you that this life ain't for me and I ain't staying here. I can't stay here, Em, I'm meant to be hunting down that son of a bitch who murdered my friends, not sittin' in this bunker watchin' the Winchester's thumb their own asses. All I'm askin' for is help. That's it. Just tell me what I gotta do and what got you caught."

Emily stared at Claire, hard, her stomach rolling with unspoken fears and doubt, and the biggest part of her wanted to tell Claire, in no uncertain terms, to fuck off and leave her out of the hairbrained scheme, but another, bigger, part of her understood where Claire was coming from and why she felt the way she did. Besides, Claire was much more trained then Emily had ever been. She could survive on her own without the boys, and she wasn't under the same orders as she was either. Technically, they had just been asked to keep Claire for a little while, to lay low, and they had done that. Taking a deep breath, Emily steadied herself and then quietly began to tell her what she'd need to do in order to leave the bunker without alerting the overly protective men down the hall.

That night, Emily barely slept. Every noise she heard she was sure was Claire, making a mistake and awaking the boys, and even Dean's arms around her didn't help her ever really settle down. The clock on his desk blinked at her warily, 1 am, 2 am, 3 am. Around 3:30 she had finally felt her eyelids getting heavy and before she knew it, she was out.

They awoke the next morning to the sounds of pounding on the bedroom door. "SHE'S GONE DEAN!" Sam's voice cut through the silence so harshly that Emily had sprang awake without even knowing it. Behind her, Dean had sat up abruptly, nudging her off the bed so he could drowsily get to the door. Emily took a second to get her bearings straight before she glanced to the clock—7 am. So, she'd done it after all. Emily's heart was heavy as she followed behind Dean who'd went with Sam out to the front to see if the car was gone. It wasn't, Emily already knew it wouldn't be, she'd warned Claire about how loud the engine was and urged her to leave on foot and then hitchhike or steal a car once she got out of the permitters of the bunker.

"How far could she have gotten without a ride?" Dean's voice was slightly panicked, and the worry in Sam's eyes as he started pacing in front of the door made the guilt bubble even heavier in Emily's stomach as she tried her best to adopt her own expression of concern without seeming too suspicious.

"Did she say anything to you, Emily?" Sam turned to look at her and she gulped only slightly, before conjuring the best acting skills she could muster on so little sleep and shook her head, not quite trusting her voice yet. Dean turned to her then too, and his eyes bore into hers so intensely that she had trouble maintaining the eye contact he held. Normally, this wasn't an issue for her, lying was like a second language and she spoke it fluently, but for some reason…She was worried too. How stupid to let Claire go knowing that Ezreil still posed a threat to her, how stupid she was to think the boys wouldn't be immediately suspicious of her.

"Emily…." Dean's tone held a dangerous note of warning in it as he took a step closer to her and she instinctively took a step back. That was all he needed to know, and he growled, a deep, guttural sound that she'd only heard a few times before. "GodDAMNIT! Where? Where is she going? Why didn't you tell us? Emily, you know Ezreil's out there looking for her, for us!"

"Dean, we don't have time for this. We've gotta find her. Emily, I mean it, if she told you anything about where she'd gone off to, you need to tell us and tell us now. She's in danger, whether she wants to admit it or not. By this time, he could've already gotten to her."

The worry in Sam's voice broke her resolve and Emily gave a quiet nod, not meeting either boy's faces as she finally spoke, "She went to find him, she's heading down to Georgia to see if any of her old contacts are still around and then she….she wants to lure him out."

"DAMNIT!" Dean roared again, and slamming his fist down on the side table next to him so hard that the whole thing fell over, making her flinch, and this time there was no objections as the boys sent her to get dressed and began to make preparations. They called Bobby and told him to contact as many Hunter's as he could to meet them down in Ashton, Georgia which was where they were fairly certain Claire had taken off too, and then they were at the Impala, placing bags of weapons in the trunk. Emily found herself next to Dean, his body still tense and the anger still palpable and as Dean backed up to shut the trunk, he muttered quietly, "When we get back, you're going to be getting reacquainted with every single object in the house that can be used to bust your ass, I can promise you that. I've never been so goddamn pissed off before in my life, Emily Parker, save for maybe the time you took off with Baby. I promise that spanking is going to look like a vacation compared to what you and that blonde bitch from hell have earned."

Emily didn't answer, defeat slumped in her shoulders as she dejectedly, silently, climbed into the backseat of the car and put her earbuds in, wallowing in her own misery. She didn't know what was worse, the disappointment from the brothers, the betrayal of Claire, or the anger of Dean. All she knew was that Claire had better hope Ezreil caught her first, cause even Sam wasn't going to be talking Dean out of the whooping she had coming.

Chapter 17: You Know It's Not The Same As It Was

They had been too late.

Two Hunter's had beaten them there, a married couple called Tobias and Laurie, they had called Dean's burner to let them know where to meet, informing them that four other's were on the way as well as Bobby. Dean had pulled up to the old, decrepit house sitting deep in the woods where Laurie had said they'd be waiting and there they were. Emily's palms were sweaty, the ever present knot of dread winding tighter in her stomach as she'd gotten out as well. She knew Laurie, she'd once babysat Emily as a child when they'd been stranded in town with a burnt out car, and the Hunter recognized her as well, giving her a warm hug that had done nothing but twist that knot tighter. So much danger she'd put them all in.

"Emily," Laurie had reintroduced her to Tobias, whom had nodded gruffly. "We were so sorry to hear about your father. We'd heard you'd taken up with the Winchester's, but truth be told, weren't quite sure how to reach you all." Emily had the good grace to blush and offer a sweet, too sweet to sound genuine, response of thanks.

"So what are we dealing with here, exactly?" Tobias had cut through the scene as he strapped a gun across his chest, handing his wife one as well as he looked between Emily and the two boys.

"A particularly nasty demon named Ezreil," Dean had filled them in quickly, tactfully leaving out the part about Claire escaping with Emily's help. "He's been gunning for Emily for awhile now, thinks she's some sort of key for him to be able to take over both Hell and Heaven, he was responsible for the massacre of Hunter's a month back, we're fairly certain he's using Claire as bait to draw us out. We have to be smart and ready. He's not normal, not like anything we've ever dealt with, but we know he's got a weakness, and we know that he's got a lot of enemies up there and down there." Dean had nodded upward and downward, before he'd gone to their own trunk and begun setting up.

"I think there may be an incantation we can use to trap him," Sam had cut in then, allowing Dean to work as he took over. "Not a normal one, something darker and older and much more powerful, but we haven't been able to test our theory, and to be honest, I'm not positive I've got it right."

Emily let them continue to plan and talk, and she wandered away a bit to the edge of the wood that surrounded the house, lost in thought. Other cars had begun to pull up, other Hunter's getting out and beginning their own preparations, all of them known to the brother's but not to Emily. So vastly sheltered she had been compared to these people, these selfless souls who'd answered the call without a second thought of what lay in wait for them. It wasn't fair. Their blood would be on her hands, and Claire's too, if she even survived this, if she was still alive now. Tears sprang to her eyes at that thought and Emily wiped them away impatiently, turning to go back to join the rest of the group when it had happened.

One moment, Emily had been awake, upright, and the next it was as if everything around her had dissolved into a golden light and she was somewhere else entirely. For one panicked, horrible moment Emily was sure that Ezreil had gotten her, but that dissolved immediately as a figure, glowing in gold, had stepped out of the shadow of the nondescript room she'd found herself in and spoken in a voice that Emily could only remember from her dreams.

"My darling," the glowing figure had said, hands outreached as they stepped closer and closer to Emily, who still couldn't get her bearings straight. "I've waited so long to see you again."

Emily didn't bother to stop her tears as she choked out, "Mom?" And fell straight into those arms, not sure she could believe this was happening. Her mom felt both solid and light all at once, and as she pulled her daughter back to look into her face, Emily could see her expression was serene but hurried. "I thought you were trapped in hell, I thought that….I thought that I'd never see you again."

"Shh, my child," her mother's voice, so surreal, spoke to her soothingly. "Do not fret over me, do not worry. It is you whom I concern over. I need you to listen. I need you to learn quickly. Repeat; Ol cast g geta demon, zacam zacam de darsar g niis."

Confused and unsure what to do, Emily pulled back slightly, her tear stained face unable to hide the pain and misperception of what was happening. "Mom, what?"

"Emily. Repeat. Repeat. You must learn this, quickly. It is the only way. Do as I say, my daughter." Again, she spoke the strange passage, in a language Emily had never heard before, not even with all the hours she'd spent in the library with Sam. But she listened, carefully as she could, and repeated the phrase, the words sounding so foreign in her mouth. Her mother smiled down at her, approvingly, lovingly, and then she spoke one final time. "My child, my dear, sweet girl. I love you. I watch over you always. Go now, and defeat this evil. Save your friends. Save your love. You must repeat this phrase three times, three times to send him to heaven, to hell, to purgatory. Then you will be saved. For now."

The next thing she knew, she was on the ground, surrounded by faces both familiar and unfamiliar, who were yelling her name, tapping her cheeks, shaking her shoulders. Blurrily, she sat up, aware that it was Dean's hands on her, helping her. "Emily? Oh my god, Emily are you okay? What happened?" His voice was pained and the worry in his eyes was overwhelming, but Emily just smiled at him, serenely, feeling more at peace then she had ever felt in her whole life. Her body still felt as light as air, and she could sense everyone around her was lost and scared by the scene they were witnessing, but she didn't care. She just looked to them all, the smile still gracing her mouth, her own light glow casting light on them.

"I know what to do," her voice was confident, strong, and she looked to Dean again, putting a hand to his cheek affectionately. "All of you stay, stay safe here, I'll go. I know what to do." She repeated the words, even as anger flared immediately in Dean's eyes, even as the Hunter's around her began to all speak at once, their words mixing together in a mash of confusion and anger. Emily held her hand up, silencing them all as she did. "I know what to do. Trust me. You're safe here, I can't guarantee you'll be safe there."

"You're not going anywhere," Dean growled, taking Emily's arms in his hands and giving her a small shake. "What just happened here? Where did you go?"

"It's going to be okay, Dean." Her voice was soft, but still strong, Dean had never seen her like this before and it freaked him out more then he cared to admit.

"Is it?"

They'd never even seen them coming, one moment they were alone, the next he was there, and not just him, but many, many others. And there was Claire, limbs and mouth bound but seemingly unhurt, eyes wild and frantic as she searched them out and landed on Emily. Emily held her stare, for just one moment, before chaos erupted around them. Demon's on hunters, Hunter's on demons, all of them fighting around them. Dean had shoved Emily backwards, and Sam had caught her, trying to force her from the fight, force her away from Ezreil who'd begun to walk forward amongst the pandemonium, ignoring everything around him. Anyone who approached was tossed aside like they weighed nothing, Hunter's, Demon's, it didn't matter, anyone in his path to her were tossed aside, destroyed. Emily placed her hand on Sam's arm and firmly pushed it down.

"I know what to do." It was her mantra now, the only thing keeping her calm and ready. She was ready. "Go. Dean needs you."

Later, much later, the brother's would recount to her what had happened in the following few moments. It was such a blur, her state of being hadn't been human then and so it was hazy, like trying to remember a vivid dream, but they had remembered, they had seen it all. Witnessed for the first time a Nephilim take on a demon king. But Emily had said the words burned into her brain by her mother's spirit, a golden light had overtaken them all, so dazzling and so bright that it blinded them all. Then a powerful wind had swept through, knocking the hunter's down where they stood and once it had passed, once the light had faded, the demon's had all vanished. All save for Ezreil, who was prone and seemingly bound with invisible ropes, holding him in an awkward, painful looking position. The boys had sprang into motion then, leaping forward to grab Claire from where she lay at the Demon king's feet, and just as they'd gotten her up and back past Emily, who still stood, her hands outstretched and palms up, emitting that ethereal, golden glow still, lips still murmuring the incantation under her breath to hold him there, another figure had appeared. Sam recognized him, it seemed, and he'd grabbed Emily just as Lucifer had grabbed Ezreil, another blast sending them both backwards as he broke the spell.

"Thank you." The only words he'd spoken before he vanished as quickly as he had come.

A week had passed since that day, since the hazy memories had stopped plaguing Emily's every waking moment, since Claire had brokenly sobbed in Sam's arms for the first time since they'd met her, since Ezreil had been taken back to Hell. The girl's had been fussed over, suffocatingly so, neither of them had been left alone for more then a few moments at a time, the boys were so worried and so relieved that they couldn't bear having them out of their sight. Claire didn't ever fully reveal what Ezreil and the demon's had done to her in the time she'd been captured, whether it was because of shell shock or memory loss, they weren't sure but no one pushed it. Claire had apologized to Emily privately one day while they hung out in Emily's room, reading. Of course, Emily had accepted it, but not before she very sternly reminded Claire what she'd earned the both of them with her actions. Claire hadn't replied, just nodded dejectedly and gone back to her book. No one had really broached that subject either, whether or not Claire would be leaving or staying now that the threat of Ezreil had been taken care of.

That is, until now.

The boys' had called a "family meeting," and Emily had known immediately what that meant. The dread from the day they'd discovered Claire missing had begun to creep back up but for an entirely different reason. When Claire and Emily had found themselves seated on the couch in the living room that night, the two brother's across from them in armchairs, it had felt like sitting in front of disappointed fathers.

"We need to talk about some things," Sam had started the lecture without anymore ado, looking pointedly to Claire as he began. "Which is starting first with whether or not Claire has made a decision on staying with us or not."

Emily had been startled by that, wholly unaware that any private conversations had taken place regarding what the young Hunter was going to do now that the threat was gone and her free will was restored. She hadn't really wanted to think about it either, especially since she had a sinking feeling that Claire wasn't going to stick around with the looming punishment they had coming hanging above her head. But she was surprised when Claire sat a little straighter up, not looking to Emily or to Dean when she responded in her pretty, southern drawl, "yeah, I been thinking a lot about it, about what you said and your offer to get me trained up a bit more before I try it on my own again. I don't agree with y'alls methods, but I know you're damn good Hunter's and if being caught by a demon taught me anything, it's that I wasn't as prepared or knowledgeable on my own as I mighta thought. So, yeah, I'll plan to stay if y'all will have me."

The same relief that welled in Emily's heart was written all over Sam's face as the younger brother fought back a smile at the news and sat back, letting Dean take over. His voice was such a gruff, stark contrast to the gentleness of Sam's, but that wasn't surprising. Dean had never been one for small talk or beating around the bush.

"Now that that's settled, we're moving on to the unpleasant part of this family meeting," he leaned forward a bit, catching Emily's eye before moving confidently to Claire's gaze, then back. "You know you earned what you're going to get, and I don't want any arguments about it. Claire, you put yourself and us in danger. Your actions were reckless, unacceptable, and goddamned stupid and you know that. I know you ain't gonna argue with me on it. Emily, you're just as guilty as Claire, helping her leave and encouraging her to do it was the catalyst of her getting out of here and risking her life and all those Hunter's who showed for us' lives as well. You aren't kids, neither of you, Sam and I don't think of you that way, and we sure as hell don't like treating you that way, but goddamnit if you didn't piss me the hell off with the stunts you pulled last week. You're lucky to have escaped Ezreil, Claire, and if you don't want to talk about what happened, that's fine, but what I know from the time I spent in the pit? Whatever it was is a cakewalk compared to what you would've faced if he'd taken you down with him. And that would've been on you, Emily. Did you think about that for even one moment when you helped her leave? Did you think of what Ezreil could've done to her? To both of you? We. Got. Lucky."

The girl's could see a vein starting to throb in Dean's forehead as his voice got louder, clearly working himself up as he spoke and Sam cleared his throat, putting a hand on Dean's shoulder to calm him down as he took over. "You know you both earned the spanking of your lives. You know you deserve it, you knew it was going to come. Dean and I had a long talk about how we were going to handle this whole thing, especially with the circumstances being what they are now, but then we thought about how our dad would've handled this if he were here, or your mom, Claire." Emily reached over to hold Claire's hands, feeling her friend's shoulders stiffen at the thought. "It wouldn't have mattered who was who, who was dating who, who was attracted to who, we would've all gotten our asses handed to us without a second thought. So," Sam paused, looking straight at Claire as he brought down their sentence. "Both of you will be getting spanked, by both of us throughout the course of this week. We decided to give you a break in between because this isn't going to be pleasant or easy on any of us, and we aren't trying to cause any permanent damage, but we are very serious about this never, ever happening again. We are a family, whether we want to be or not, and that means we treat each other with respect, it means we don't lie, we don't scheme, and we certainly don't put each other in danger the way that you girl's did."

Claire had opened her mouth to argue, but Sam held up a hand, interrupting her before she could even begin. "I don't want to hear any opinions on this, it's done and decided and I think you both know you deserve it. Am I right?"

He paused again, waiting for verbal confirmation from the women in front of him. "Yes sir," Emily said quietly, knowing that was what was expected when Sam got into "dom mode," as she called it. She nudged Claire with her elbow when the blonde didn't respond right away, and Sam bristled for a moment.

"Yeah, fine." She spat out, bitterly. Emily groaned inwardly, even Dean brought a hand up to his head, unable to keep down the grin at the audacity of the girl. But Sam didn't back down, and he gave her another chance with a quiet, "try again," his palm twitching slightly at his side as he stared her down seriously.

Claire didn't respond for a long moment, so long that Sam had started to move out of his chair and Emily had opened her mouth to help her, before Claire came to her senses and gave a begrudging, "Yes sir," too.

Sam sat back down, satisfied and Dean picked up for him again, seemingly a lot more calm now that they were at the sentencing portion and past the part where the girls had almost killed themselves with their own stupidity. "Starting tonight, you'll both be getting the first spanking of this week. Tomorrow you're getting a break, then we'll start again the following day, and then we'll repeat, and so on blah blah," he waved his hand, knowing that the girls' got his drift. "I wasn't kidding when I told you I'd make sure you felt every single item in this house that could be used to bust your ass, and I hope by the end of this week, you're both going to be thinking very seriously about what the consequences will be if you ever pull a stunt like that again. So, lets get his over and done with. Em, you're with Sam, Claire, you're coming with me." The boys stood before Emily had time to react, but Dean could already tell she was angry at this news and he gave her a very pointed, "Don't even start with me, you earned this and we aren't playing favorites now or ever. Now march, or you'll be dealing with two whoopin's tonight and I won't go easy on you just because you're getting another one on Tuesday."

Emily shut her mouth angrily as Sam came to her side and began guiding her out with a firm hand on her back, and Dean approached Claire where she was, apparently planning to utilize the room for now. With one final glance back to her friend, Emily disappeared around the corner and took a deep breath, knowing that this wasn't going to be easy on any of them, but most especially on Claire.

 

"Sam," Emily's voice hitched slightly as he continued to lead her down the hallway and towards his room, while she knew the spanking she had coming should've made her the most nervous, that wasn't what her protests were about this time, no, she knew she had it coming the second she'd agreed to help Claire escape. "Sam you can't let Dean spank her, you can't! Claire will murder him, Sam, you know this is going to be a bad idea, you know she's not just gonna let him spank her. Spank her instead, Sam, please?"

Sam had shut the door of his room, leaving Emily to plead her case in the middle of his tidy floor as he finally turned to her, went to sit on his bed and beckoned her forward so that they were face to face. "Oh yeah, Em? You want me to spank her first? Why? Because I'm the nice guy? Because I'm going to be a lot easier on her then Dean is? Because I'm not so mean?" Sam's voice was hard, stern, his face was too and Emily gulped, suddenly realizing that she was, in fact, worrying about the wrong thing. "You see, I think that's the real problem, Emily Parker. I think that I'm too nice, I'm too easy on you. You've gotten so used to this that it doesn't even phase you anymore, you're over here worrying about your friend getting a well deserved butt blistering from Dean, thinking that old Sammy is gonna be the easier one."

Emily was frozen in place as he spoke, she had never heard him talk this way before and it was scary to listen to, so unlike Gentle Giant Sam that, in a moment of guilt, she realized he was absolutely right. Sam's spankings were nothing to laugh at, no, they were always hard and right to the point, but she didn't fear them as much as Dean's. Dean was volatile, he had a temper that was only rivaled by her own, he spanked long and hard and until he was certain the lesson had been learned, not a moment more or less. Sam had always been the methodical one. Emily was sure he decided before a spanking exactly how many swats there would be, exactly what implement he would use, exactly how long it would go for. There was a ritual and routine to him that was lacking with Dean, and his spankings were almost comforting in that respect, she knew when they would end and she could focus on that.

Sam's fingers had found her hips and he tugged her joggers down, so they pooled at her feet, his eyes not leaving hers as he did so. There was nothing sexually charged between them in the motion, not the way she could always sense underneath Dean, but the movement still made her blush and she looked down, ashamed. "That ends right here, right now, and for the rest of this week while we impress upon you girls the importance of the Hunter's Code. The importance of trust, obedience, and honesty. Claire is in the wrong, Emily, I'd volunteer that between the two of you, she's in much more trouble even, but your actions were wrong in a way that hers' weren't," he paused, using the lecture to guide her over his right knee, his left leg locking over her ankles to keep her prone, a position she'd been in with Dean…but not Sam. Even with her scrappy lace panties on, she felt much more exposed in this position and she had to fight the urge not to reach back and cover herself as Sam continued his speech, "because you know better. You've been punished for the exact stunt that she pulled. Claire may have thought she'd get away with it because she's been hunting for a lot longer then you have, but you could've stopped her from doing this and you didn't. I'd say that's lying by omission, wouldn't you?"

Sam's large hand was resting on one cheek and she could feel the warning there even though it wasn't there and the spanking hadn't even started. Sam didn't respond again, he just raised his hand and brought it smartly down right in the middle of her right cheek, the loud CLAP reverberating through the room. She flinched and tried to stay still, her hands gripping the duvet on his bed tightly. He began in earnest, his hand going back and forth straying from his normal, uniform pattern. He'd started out lightly, not striking as hard and fast as was his usual, taking his time to make sure every inch of her butt and upper thighs were covered, before his pace picked up and his swats became harder. "Hey!" She squeaked out, realizing that this was feeling a lot more like a "Dean spanking" then it was a "Sam spanking."

Sam didn't stop, he continued the barrage of swats that was quickly making the little girl across his knee begin to squirm. "What? This not working for you?" His voice held a slight sneer that was so unusual for him, that even he seemed to realize it as he softened his tone and paused for a second, the heat radiating on his hand as he rested it on her flesh again. Emily was crying quietly, though her body stilled when he stopped, even though they both knew this was far from over. "I'm angry, Emily. I don't think I have ever felt that way before except for two times in my life….when Jess died, and when my father disappeared. Not only could we have lost Claire, but we could've lost you too. I don't think you understand how much you mean to us, Em, risking yourself like that isn't something we ever want to see again. Dean and I have lost so, so much in our lives, in this life. You didn't think about that when you went right into Ezreil's trap, and you didn't think about it when you gave Claire the tools to walk there either."

Sam's fingers gripped the top of her panties and he peeled them down, revealing the shining pink skin they'd previously been covering and then he resumed the spanking, letting Emily deal with the emotions of his lecture and continue to cry into the blanket below her. Emily was miserable, it didn't matter how many times she'd been spanked, didn't matter how many lectures she sat through, it never sucked less when the time came to pay the piper. She buried her face in Sam's blanket again, inhaling the scent of plain Tide that they washed all their clothes in, trying to pace her breathing even as she felt like her butt was on fire as swat after swat rained down. Her legs had begun to kick involuntarily, straining against his ankle that was holding her down and it didn't escape his notice, although he could feel his resolve waning a bit. He really didn't want to spank her, or anyone for that matter, but damnit if it wasn't effective on the girl. Still, hearing her cry was one of the worst things he'd had endure since she'd moved in and he wanted to get this over with. It'd been a good six minutes straight of hand spanking, her butt was hot and glowing, and he stopped again, resting his hand once more on one cheek as he took a deep breath to steel himself for the next part of this. Dean had talked him through it, coached him a bit and told him to practice on a pillow if he was nervous, which had seemed so stupid at the time but now Sam was wishing he had a little more confidence then he was feeling at the moment.

Fake it until you make it.

"Okay Em, this part's over. You're warmed up enough." It'd be the same as a paddle, but to Sam it was so much more personal, because it had been his dad's go to. He helped Emily to her feet and then reached for his pillow and replaced it where he'd just been sitting. He didn't let Emily have time to process or protest as he pushed her firmly over the cushion and his hand came to the buckle of his belt, beginning to undo it. Emily must've heard and recognized the sound because she began to cry bitterly again, her hands balling into the now messy duvet cover. "I don't like doing this, Emily."

The belt felt heavy in his hand, so different from a paddle or brush, and he knew he had to start before he lost his nerve and let her off easy. No, she deserved this. "But I will, every time, until you get it into your head that you're family and you're stuck with us."

The belt fell across both cheeks with a resounding CRACK and they both flinched at the sound, before Emily began to cry in earnest. The first swat out of the way, he fell into a rhythm, bringing the worn leather up and down over her swollen butt, leaving heavy, pretty stripes behind its' wake. He had debated making her count, but Dean had persuaded him against it, telling him it was easier to not have a beginning and end, but harder on her not knowing when it'd end. Indeed, she was kicking and bucking as he swung, he had to eventually put a hand down on her back to keep her in place, not losing his momentum as he did so. This was definitely effective. Emily was howling and pleading, and after three minutes of belting her, his arm was getting tired and she was starting to wane too, the kicking stopped and she lay limply across the pillow. Her bottom was a deep, dark red but not bruised, the precise reason the boys had decided on the belt first. The finale would be the wood. This was the warmup. He tossed his belt aside and took a deep breath, feeling more glad that the spanking was over then he ever had before. The hardest part was done, starting it, now they just had to finish it. He helped Emily stand and pull her clothes back on, then he gathered Emily into his arms and let her cry into his shirt until she was spent, and then he led her quietly out of his room and down to her own. They could still hear Dean talking in the front room, and the unmistakable sound of a smack along with it, and Emily cringed.

"Hey, she deserves it." Sam said firmly, his resolve hardening again. If anyone deserved it, it was Claire, even though it still tugged at his heart knowing she was in pain.

"I know," Emily's voice was tired, too tired to argue and she allowed Sam to tuck her into bed, falling asleep almost as soon as her head had hit the pillow.

Chapter 18: I'd Make A Deal With God

To her credit, Claire didn't sulk.

Emily was a sulker.

He hadn't really expected her to, but he also didn't really know how any of this would go. This felt foreign, all of it, from the blonde hair, to the pale skin, to the expression on her face, none of it felt right or normal. But we're not normal. He had a job to do, one he could honestly say he didn't really mind, spanking beautiful girls wasn't exactly a chore, after all, but since Emily had come along and completely torn his world part this felt…wrong. But they had come to an agreement, him and Sam. This week was going to be one of vey serious impressions. First ones for Claire. If he balked, if he showed any signs of weakness at all this little blonde thing in front of him would latch on and destroy him. He'd been around her long enough to know that. And the way she was looking at him, fierce and angry and guarded all at once? It felt like a challenge. One he could absolutely rise to.

Dean was standing and Claire was sitting, so he used the height advantage to begin his lecture, matching her stare with one of his own famous Winchester glowers. "I don't think I really have to tell you why you're here and what's about to happen, but for old time's sake, let's go ahead and chat about it. What were you thinking, exactly, when you decided to take off on foot in a place you're unfamiliar with while also knowing that there was a psychotic demon looking for you or any other person with ties to Emily while doing it?"

She still didn't sulk, though a tinge of pink appeared on her cheeks. Jackpot. He soldiered on, knowing he had her now, knowing the lecture was going to be more effective then the spanking he was about to dole out. "On top of that, you decided to drag Emily into your little scheme. Not only did you put your own life in danger, you put hers' in danger too." The pink on her cheeks deepened and he used that opportunity to step forward and find a grip on her arm, pulling her up from the couch so that they were face to face. "If something had happened to her, Claire, I wouldn't have ever gotten over it, and I'm pretty sure you wouldn't have either. And if something had happened to you? I don't think that big lug of a brother in the other room currently would've gotten over it either."

The lecture didn't stop even as Dean moved his body to sit down where she had just moments before been sitting and moved her to stand in front of him. Instinctively, Emily moved her hands in front of her jeans as if to protect herself, but of course that wouldn't do anything to deter him, rather it just seemed to anger him a little more and he shot her a look of pure exasperation. "Listen sweetheart, if you want to pretend like you've never been in this position before, that's your prerogative, but we both know that you have and be both know what's going to happen now."

He leaned forward and caught her by the waistband of said jeans, pulling her roughly forward before unbuttoning them deftly and yanking the tight denim to mid thigh in one swoop, leaving her in a pair of plain, purple panties. Her mouth opened to form words that didn't come out, and Dean didn't let her attempt anyway. "Your bare little ass is going over my knee, where you're going to get a damn good spanking for the stunt you pulled while knowing full well that your friend is in the exact same position down the hall because of what?" He gripped her hips tightly, forcing her to look down at him before he pulled the purple scrap of cotton to meet her bunched up jeans. "Why are you here?"

It took her a long moment to answer, too long for Dean's taste, and he roughly moved a hand to her arm, yanking her down across his knee so that her upper body was resting across the couch and her legs were left dangling on the floor. Knowing full well there was about to be a fight, he moved one leg over hers, stopping her mid-kick by pinning them down, while at the same time grabbing the one hand she had thrown back in a vain attempt to defend herself and forcing it crudely against her outer hip. "NO!" The panicked shout was cut short by the stunning smack he landed to her exposed left cheek, causing her words to turn to an injured yelping sound.

"Why are you here?" He repeated the words calmly, matching a smack to her other cheek, before beginning to pepper her whole bottom with a flurry of hard, noisy slaps. Her skin was so pale that it took no time at all to bring a rosy blush to them, a detail that was necessarily unpleasant. Almost an instant satisfaction in the work he was doing, if he was being honest. It took some work to get Emily to that spanked red. He stopped after a minute of hard hand spanks, ignoring the outraged profanities coming from the girl he had trapped. "Uh-uh-uh," the teasing scolding just made her angrier and she strained so hard against his grasp on her wrist that she almost broke the hold. "I asked you a question, Claire."

"Fuck you!"

He sighed, the action more mocking than serious, and his hand began to rise and fall again, faster and faster and harder and harder with each smack until she was being so loud in her screaming that his ears began to ring. "STOP!" He bellowed amidst the spanking, and he paused for a moment to loosen his lock on her legs, the denim still bunched mid-thigh was making it difficult for him to make a full impression on her and he wrestled them further down until they pooled at her still kicking feet.

"Fuck OFF!" Her face turned towards him long enough that he could see that she still wasn't crying. No, the only thing written on her face was pure, unadulterated hatred. He sighed again, but this time it wasn't mocking, just slightly resigned. Her skin was an angry red now but she wasn't even close to breaking and he could see he'd need to slow down and re-evaluate before he caused her actual damage. Pain didn't seem to be her weakness, the way it was with Emily, no she had grown up the same way the Winchester boys had and this wasn't going to phase her. So he slowed down, his hand rising and falling much more slowly now and instead of focusing on spanking her as hard as he could like his instincts were screaming at him to do, he used his words instead.

"Did you want to die, Claire?" He wasn't trying to be harsh, but his voice was unmoving, firm. "Was that why you went? To martyr yourself? To join your friends? Death is final, little girl. No take backs there, no sunny afterlife, just cold blackness and hell or heaven, depending which way your short life went. But not just for you, no, we could've all gone too. Emily could've died, I could've died, Sam could've died, all those hunter's who showed up for you could've died, because remember Claire, Hunter's are family. We all play a part, we all show up for each other. You knew that when you took off too, didn't you?"

She had gone quiet at those words, though her body still instinctively flinched at each smack he was still lying down and he continued on, knowing he had to get through to her no matter the cost. "Or were you really wanting to play hero? Thought you could prove yourself to us, thought you'd be the one to save the day so we'd fall all over ourselves to allow you in as a leader here?" He snorted at the same time that she let out her first quiet, embarrassed sob. Jackpot.

The lecture continued, the tears finally began to flow and besides an occasional, "fucking fuck!" Claire took the rest of the spanking. W hen her bottom was beginning to show signs of more crimson then red, he let her up and helped fix her clothing back up. He'd planned for more harshness, the belt was supposed to come off, he was supposed to be more stoic, but truth be told, he was exhausted. Mentally. Physically. Emotionally. There hadn't been the same level of satisfaction there as he got with Emily, and he knew it was because he didn't have to be so severe. His head swimming, he lead the still sniffling Claire down the hall to her room, leaving her with a long, much needed hug, before he went to find his brother to clear his head.

Damn women make me tired.

Chapter 19: Girls Just Wanna Have Fun

Monday was a subdued affair, neither girl was in much mood to socialize, and the boys had left them alone for the most part. When Dean had come to get in bed with her that night, he’d sweetly offered to rub some lotion into her sore bottom, which of course had delved into his fingers slipping elsewhere and landing Emily riding him with unashamed abandon in the small bedroom. But when morning had come and Emily had gone to shower, the hot water hitting her backside reminded her that she still had two more spankings to go. TWO. How was she going to survive that? And of course, there’s not even a mark this morning. She thought sourly. She wondered how Claire had held up for her own spanking with Dean, the pale girl was probably bruised to high heavens with the attitude she continued to give. Sam and Emily couldn’t even pretend they hadn’t heard the pair screaming at each other last night and Emily winced at the thought. Fighting meant nothing more then a harder spanking, time and time again had that been proven.

 

Emily spent the rest of the morning in her room reading, Dean had poked his head in to let her know at some point that they were going over to Bobby’s to get some supplies, and Claire had slipped in after they left to commiserate the spanking she’d gotten which had just soured Emily’s mood even more when she realized that she’d gotten the belt and all Claire had gotten was a measly hand spanking. Before either of them knew it, Tuesday was rolling in and their second spankings began to loom in the distance.

 

“Sam, knock it off, you’re going to make me burn this,” Emily didn’t bother hiding the irritation in her voice as she swatted Sam’s hand away from the sauce simmering on the stove. He let out a sigh of indignation, recognizing the grumpiness in his friend as nervousness about what they were facing after dinner was done. “Why don’t you go be useful and set the table?” She shooed him out of the kitchen with a none-to-gentle elbow and Sam left, resisting the urge to stick his tongue out at her back. He didn’t feel bad. He couldn’t. They’d brought this on themselves, after all. It wasn’t long before fettuccine alfredo was sitting in front of all them, and the boys were wolfing theirs down as if they’d never eaten before while the two girls picked at theirs, occasionally exchanging disgusted looks with each other.

 

“You’re cavemen,” Claire remarked dryly as Sam reached across her to snag one more piece of garlic bread. Sam didn’t even flinch, just shrugged his shoulders and gave her a grin.

 

“It’s delicious and we’ve been living on takeout for a week, sue me.” Claire just wrinkled her nose at him and went back to moving the pasta around her plate. Dean took the cue from her and cleared his throat, standing up and taking his plate over to the sink. Emily didn’t look up, knowing that she was about to be summoned to her doom and she pouted dejectedly when her boyfriend returned, a sturdy wooden spatula held firmly in one hand, holding his other out to her. She took a little too long to take it, and he sighed impatiently, reaching down to wrap his fingers instead around her bicep and help her to her feet, the scraping of the chair moving backwards making Claire jump a little. They were both way too jumpy to keep putting the spankings off, but Sam wanted to give his brother a little time before he brought Claire to round two. He truthfully wasn’t looking forward to it all, not only because of their first disastrous encounter, but also because in the debriefing with Dean the night before when he asked how it went over and Dean had shrugged a bit cryptically. Apparently he’d been pretty easy on the tall blonde, and he’d made it a point to tell Sam it was up to him to pick up the slack now. Sam hadn’t taken that too well, how was it his responsibility when Dean was arguably the more dominant of the two of them?

 

Meanwhile, back in Dean’s bedroom Emily stood in the corner of the room, staring at the all too familiar wallpaper with her hands folded behind her back and her pants down at her ankles. Dean had decided a little extra humiliation was in order for this spanking—specifically he’d told her “a childish whooping for a childish stunt.” She rolled her eyes at that memory, fidgeting as little as she could manage. She was supposed to be thinking about her actions and why they were wrong, but instead she was thinking about how much she didn’t want to be spanked again so soon, and bitterly wondering if Claire was going to get off easy again while she bore the brunt of the whippings. This is so stupid, and it’s not fair. She would’ve stomped her foot if she didn’t know for a fact that Dean was watching her from over on the bed. It seemed like hours were passing while she stood there, and her frustration was burning hotter and hotter as she waited, until finally, finally Dean was calling her over. She turned around, stepping out of her pants so they were left in a puddle by the corner as she miserably shuffled over to him. He must’ve read the expression on her face because when she’d reached him, his face hardened slightly, his jaw ticking in the tell-tale sign that he was unhappy. “Is there a problem, sweetheart?”

 

“Yes!” She blurted it out without being able to stop herself. Well, it was out now, so she may as well let him have it. “This isn’t fair and you know it, Dean! This was all Claire’s fault and the only reason we even got out of this whole mess was because of me and yet I’m still being punished? And I KNOW you went easy on her Sunday, which is ridiculous considering Sammy belted me, and I hate that stupid spoon and I don’t want to be spanked, and I shouldn’t be! You-you…you suck!”

 

To his credit, Dean didn’t break a smile at her little tirade, cute and juvenile as it was, he kept his face perfectly schooled into the picture of sternness and as she finished her speech, he reached forward and hooked his hand around one of her slender thighs, forcing her to stumble towards him with very little grace. “Listen here, little girl,” his voice was gruff and Emily’s cheeks reddened subtly at the annoying nickname. “How many times have you been spanked for making dumbass choices here? Twenty? Thirty? Can we even keep count anymore?” Emily’s lip drooped slightly and Dean caught her chin in his hand, tilting her face down to meet his. “How many times has Claire been whooped here? Once. And it was a terrible experience for her and for Sam. She’s not you, Em, she may have been brought up on our code but with her mom only. She isn’t used to men. Or us.”

 

“Neither was I and that never stopped you from busting me,” Emily’s pout deepened and tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. “And that still doesn’t answer why I’m getting spanked over her choices.”

 

Now Dean felt impatient and he released her chin to sit backwards, clapping his hands to his thighs. “Two question there sweetcheeks—did Claire ask you to help her and did you say no to that request?”

 

Emily sighed deeply, shifting from foot to foot in the knowledge that there was no way she was escaping this. Dean tapped her hip sharply for a response and with a look of absolute misery to her, she shook her head. Fate sealed, Dean hooked his fingers into her panties and drew them down over her hips, nodding to her to resume the familiar position she found herself in more and more often the longer she stayed with the Winchester’s.

Chapter 20: She's A Maneater, Make You Work Hard

 

There probably wasn’t anything worse than listening to someone else’s spanking.

 

Well, maybe almost dying at the hands of the demon who also slaughtered your entire family and left you alone to pick up the pieces on your own ranked close. Close. Claire’s face was pinched, the edges of her mouth downturned in such an exaggerated fashion that she could see Sam trying not to laugh at her from the corner of her eye.

 

“What?” She snapped at him sourly, which immediately dropped the grin from his face. “This is horrible! How do you just sit and listen to her being hit? Honestly, y’all are brutes. Worse then brutes!” The grin was back on Sam’s face and she suddenly had to fight the urge to punch him. In the background, the slapping sound was getting louder and the muffled wails of her friend were getting more distinct. It made Claire’s skin crawl, it made her feel itchy and hot, and violent. Very violent. The Hunter’s code the two of them lived by was archaic and insulting. Frankly, Claire was highly doubting her agreement to stay with them at the moment. Knowing that she had another spanking coming, from Sam nonetheless, was almost more humiliating than she could put into words. And she’d agreed to it! Like an idiot. Like some little girl who’d been given a choice between immediate and prolonged. Of course, she’d chosen it. But now? Now she was regretting that. Especially because she could see Sam was getting himself ready to carry out the next sentence.

 

Well.

 

She wasn’t going to make it easy on him. God as her witness, she was going to make Sam and Dean regret deciding that they could ever pull their alpha crap on her. Claire schooled her delicate features into a cool, aloof expression as she tried to push the sounds from behind them out and she turned to face Sam. It was hard to miss that he was no longer wearing his worn leather belt and it was now dangling from his left hand. It was even harder to miss that he was staring at her with a look that was daring her to say exactly what she was thinking. “Ready?” His voice was gentle, but stern, just like everything about him and she had to gather her courage up again because god if she wasn’t debating just getting it over with.

 

“No.”

 

“No?” He quirked a brow at her, the sternness melting into something more serious, something challenging. And boy did Claire love a challenge. “Claire, don’t make this harder on both of us.”

 

“Why? Why should I let you do this, Sam Winchester? What can I possibly gain from lettin’ you spank me like a little kid? I ain’t some pushover,” she didn’t say Emily’s name but the implication hung between them. “You ain’t my boyfriend, or even my lover. This….this ain’t right.”

 

Sam snorted. He actually snorted. Claire felt her face burn and her temper rise, something she had always struggled with as an adult but even more so around him. Sam riled her up like no one else did. “Claire, I know you didn’t just tell me that this isn’t right. I know you didn’t say that after we had an entire discussion about why this is happening and why you both deserve the punishments you’re getting this week. I also know that Dean went easy on you the other night because of how bad you were feeling about what you did and the danger you put both you AND Emily in. And I know you know you’re not getting out of this.”

 

Claire’s eyes narrowed and Sam stepped forward to take her arm at the same moment she stepped backwards, just out of his reach which made the look on his face more severe and Claire couldn’t help it. She laughed. Laughed in his face. She was not making this easy, that was for sure. She knew it was bad, that it was a bad idea and that she was not going to win, but she just couldn’t let him. She couldn’t. He was Sam and he was tall, and attractive, and he had a face that was like a little boy and a man all mushed together and she couldn’t take him seriously at all but also she couldn’t let him spank her because that was humiliating. And infantile. And not for her. She could spank him, oh the picture of forcing his lanky body onto his knees while she wielded that belt behind him…

 

Now that was an image she could get used to.

 

“Claire Jackson!” Snapped from the fantasy, she fought the urge to gulp and moved her gaze back to his, facing the now furious-looking Winchester. She moved quickly behind the table they were standing at and put her hands down flat, bending down to match his stance.

 

“You ain’t doing it,” she spat venomously just as the sounds in the room behind them suddenly louder. Evidently Dean had moved onto the spatula, it was hard to ignore Emily’s cries and pleas now. Momentarily distracted by her friend’s wailing, Claire missed Sam rushing to her and as quickly as her fight had started, it was over. His grip was firm, God he is strong, and try as she might, Claire couldn’t leverage out of it fast enough as he dragged her from behind the table and towards the living room without any further ado. “No, no, no!” She abruptly stopped herself, forcing him to stop with her and jerked from his grasp before he could stop her, then she jammed the palm of her hand into his back so hard that he dropped the belt and actually stumbled, the move winding him.

 

She used the second she had to flee towards the couch but shockingly Sam’s recovery time was quicker then she could’ve ever imagined because she was suddenly bent unceremoniously across the back of the couch and Sam was wailing on her with his belt, and all she could feel was the shock of pain that came with it the spanking, and the unfairness of it all crashing down on her. She kicked as hard as she could, but there was a hand on her back keeping her forced down and then there was the roaring of Sam’s voice in her ears as the belt stilled.

 

“What do you think you’re doing, Claire?” He was angry, it was evident in both his tone and the way his hand flattened even harder on her back, forcing her to arch in response which also infuriated her. “Stop it NOW!”

 

“Let me GO you ape!” There was no way out, she knew it, but her pride was wounded and she just couldn’t let go of the control. She couldn’t. She saw the belt land on the couch pillow below her face and without a second’s hesitation his hand was off her back and around her bicep, the other one wrapped into her hair and yanked her up so harshly that she couldn’t stop the strangled cry that came out of her mouth. She tried in vain to stomp on his foot, but he was quicker now and before she knew it, he was sitting and she was wedged in-between his knees, his grip out of her hair but not off her arm. She instinctively went to rub the sore spot on her scalp, a small tingle between her legs catching her off-guard. Whoah, did I LIKE that? He grabbed her jaw before she got far though and yanked her face down to meet his, forcing her to bend awkwardly at her waist.

 

“You. Are. A. Brat.” He spat the words out harshly, shaking her face a little as he said them. His blood was boiling as hotly as her cheeks, but he was fairly certain he could see where and why this was happening. She was a brat, not the way that Emily could act sometimes when she wasn’t getting what she wanted, no she was a genuine brat, the kind that needed taming as exhausting as it was.

 

Claire was blushing furiously, but her stomach was clenching in the same vein that her pussy was throbbing. Fighting him was turning her on? What in the world? The confusion of her feelings left her vulnerable and he unbuttoned her jeans and shoved them to her thighs faster then she could react and before she knew it, she was over his thigh and his other leg was trapping her fast and hard. The spanking began over her panties which she knew were embarrassingly damp, and she resumed her struggle in futile against him as he took over to teach her the lesson she so sorely needed.

Chapter 21: This Girl Is On Fire

Their last day of reckoning had come.

 

Earlier that day, the boys had been in good moods. It was clear that they were ready for the whole thing to be done and over with, to go back to normal, to wipe the slates clean, and that be that. Sam was particularly ready to be finished not only because spanking women was exhausting, but also because he was ready to get to know Claire in a way that wasn’t tied to punishing her, to being her jailer. Maybe he was starved for attention and Claire was the first pretty girl to come along in awhile that wasn’t attached to Dean, but Sam felt there was something more there. He hadn’t been sure until the other night when he’d taken Claire, literally, in hand and he’d found she was turned on when he did it. Maybe he'd hit on something when he’d called her a “brat,” or maybe she was just as lonely and desperate as he was. But he thought it could be the latter.

 

Ever the studious one, he’d gone online and typed in the words “girlfriend likes being a brat” into trusty old Google. And there it was—a plethora of information he’d never heard of or entertained before in his life. Brat-taming, daddy domming, gentle domming, primal play, something called DDGL which he wasn’t sure he could relate to at all, but there was some stuff that he enjoyed. Stuff like… taking care of her, but also, and he couldn’t explain why, fighting with her. Something about her spark and her brattiness really appealed to him in a way that he hadn’t felt before. He was starting to come to terms with all of this stuff they did, all of these ideas they had about relationships and what they liked. It was becoming clearer and clearer as the hours grew later and his searches got more in depth, there was an entire world out there that fit into what they did. Dean was a dom, no doubt about it, and probably more on the sadist leaning side of things, while Emily for all her fighting and bravado was more of a submissive and perhaps even a bit of a brat herself but not in the same way that Claire was. Their relationship revolved around the roles that they’d set out, the rules and the consequences but also the love they had for each other, the protectiveness they felt for one another, the safety of being together and the depression of being apart. Claire and him didn’t fit that as well. She needed to push boundaries and a strong hand that was willing to match her temper.

 

Sam could do that.

 

He’d realized that after everything that they’d done together the other night, the chase, the fight, the screaming, the inevitable spanking and the dampness on his thigh and his throbbing erection, it had turned him on just as much as it had turned her on. He couldn’t tell Dean that, no he’d laugh at his baby brother for sure, but how he felt was how he felt. Dean liked the submission; Sam liked the pushback. So interesting.

 

Sam had slept late, through breakfast and almost into lunch, and when he’d awoken to the smell of bacon and the sounds of chatter and the blaring of what sounded like race cars in the background, he felt good. Light.

 

Claire felt it too. She would never admit that what had happened last night had turned her on. But it had. It was a strange feeling, of course Claire had had boyfriends before, and she’d even dated a hunter in the past but none of them were like Sam. Sam was really intelligent, probably smarter then anyone that she’d ever met, but he was also strong and kind and he didn’t….well, he didn’t put up with her shit. Which was new for her, not since her mom had been around had someone actually ever really stood up to her. And even near the end, her mom hadn’t either. Claire had been the one to take over everything, the one who had to be strong for everyone, the one who had to find a new family when sickness took over her mom’s body and she couldn’t function anymore, then she was the one who had to start over when her mom had died. She was always the alpha, always the one in charge, always the one with the plan and the course of action.

 

And here she wasn’t.

 

And it was kind of nice. Being taken care of once in awhile.

 

But, of course she couldn’t tell Emily that, she couldn’t tell Sam or Dean that. So, she pouted alongside her friend, pretending that tonight was going to be awful, and ugh did it have to happen so soon after the last one, especially when Emily had gotten that horrid wooden spatula that marked her ass for two full days, it wasn’t fair. Claire pretended that she hadn’t heard Dean and Emily’s wild night of sexual debauchery after the last time either. There was no point in calling anyone out in this house.

 

So when dinner was done, after the girl’s had taken their showers, and they were all in the living room together, Claire and Emily had expected them to announce it was time and move them to their respective rooms for the last spanking, so it was a surprise when Dean stood up and brought a chair into the room to sit directly across from the couch where Sam was still sitting. The confusion was evident as Emily looked over to Claire who stared back at her with an eyebrow raised, as if to say I don’t know girl.

 

“What is this?” Emily moved to stand from the couch but Sam stopped her with a hand on her knee, and she gulped. This didn’t feel right, it didn’t feel like it normally did before a spanking. Dean and Sam had conspired something and she didn’t like it at all.

 

Dean sat in the chair across from her and put his hands on his knees, staring between her and Claire seriously. “Sam and I decided this has to be different. Sure, we could just spank you and get this done and that’s that until the next stupid idea comes into one of your heads’ and we have to repeat it. So we think this has to really sink in and Sam actually thought it might make a bigger impression if you got spanked together.”

 

Sam was evidently prepared for the fallout as he gripped Claire’s arm, who was sitting on the other side of him, the second Dean had begun to talk, and for good reason.

“The hell you are!” She spat angrily, and Sam moved to wrap an arm around her so she couldn’t lash out at him. “What is this? Does this get you off, you pervert?”

 

Dean’s face hardened and Emily stood up, stepping forward to get into his eye level while Sam was busy trying to contain Claire. “Dean, come on, why? That’s so….weird.”

 

Dean shook his head, looking over to Sam for help now. “Yeah, Emily, it is weird.” He nodded in acknowledgement and then tightened his grip on Claire who was trying to squirm so hard that she almost landed an elbow to his face. “And it’s going to make a big impression on you, isn’t it? Isn’t it Claire? You guys decided to do this together and now you’re going to get punished together. It’s only fair, isn’t it?”

 

Emily’s face was so red that Dean could almost feel the steam coming off it and he reached forward and snagged her wrist before she could run off which he could tell she was very close to doing. “Uh, uh, uh,” he chided her gently before swiftly pulling her across his lap, his knees digging painfully into her hips as he tried to get her settled where he wanted her. “Tell me you don’t deserve it, tell me that this isn’t a natural consequence or whatever the fuck you call it, is that right Sammy?”

 

Sam was having his own time trying to wrestle Claire over his lap and he grunted when the elbow finally did catch him right in the stomach. He hauled her down and across his lap, jamming his own elbow into her back and successfully pinning one of her arms behind her before she could land a punch. Emily and Claire were head down, ass up, and face to face now. And it was the most humiliated that Emily could ever recall feeling in her entire life. Worse then the first time Dean had spanked her. Worse than the time Bobby had overhead Dean threatening to spank her for insulting his car. Worse than anything. But also….it was fitting. They weren’t wrong. This was pretty on par for a Dean and Sam special, honestly. And was it going to be a little satisfying to know that Claire was actually going to get punished? Was it a little comforting to also know she was right across from her?

 

Was she sick?

 

It didn’t matter. Before she could protest more, Dean had wrestled down her lounge pants and his large hand was clapping down on her pink little panties, and across from her, Sam was doing the same to Claire, and for a moment the only sound that was in the room was the sound of loud slapping. Emily was the quiet one for once, Claire was cursing up a storm across from her, so loud and boisterous that she could tell even Dean was annoyed because he was smacking her a bit harder than usual for a warmup. She glanced over and saw flying blonde hair, a tangle of limbs attempting to hit and kick away the man smacking her, Claire was yelling and hollering and she looked a mess, Emily wondered if that was what Dean saw everytime he spanked her. She screwed her face up in concentration, trying to focus on the pain and not focus on her friend, but it was hard. Through the commotion, she could hear something shift, and now it was Sam’s loud, but somehow calm voice cutting through the noise of it all.

 

“Claire Jackson, you’ve had this coming and you know it, your friend is taking her spanking like a good girl and you’re taking yours’ like a five year old! Calm down now,” he was scolding her in a way that was strange, it sounded very unlike the usual stern Sam lecture, he almost sounded like a father scolding a daughter. And even weirder, Claire actually did calm down a bit, enough that Emily was snapped back into the pain that was her own spanking. She gritted her teeth, whining beneath her breath as Dean paused then. Sam had quit talking and she heard him shift, while Dean was doing the same, and then her panties were down around her knees and his leg had shifted her forward, her hips now over one knee while he used his other leg to pin her ankles down and expose her sit spots more fully. She knew the drill. It was always the same wasn’t it. She dared to turn her head towards Claire again, her hands on the floor to keep her steady, her hair framed all around her head. Claire stared back at her, her mouth in a tight line and her face still bright pink. She mouthed a small “I’m sorry,” to Emily before turning her face back to the ground and bucking her body again. It was such a strange sensation, being punished next to someone she respected and cared for. It felt surreal and out of body, but very much in her body because she couldn’t block out the pain of the hard slaps to her now bare butt nor the sounds that were reverberating through the living room from two hands going at one time. It felt like it was an hour when Dean finally slowed down and Emily was openly sobbing into her hands on the floor, though Claire was silent.

 

Dean stopped first, and she could tell he was saying something across to Sam but it was hard to focus on that through her crying and Sam’s continuation of Claire’s spanking, but before she knew it, she was being stood up and marched over to the back of the couch. Her pants and panties had long been kicked off, her ass was blazing the way only a third spanking could manage and she knew her face was a mess. She stared at the back of Sam’s head and the bright crimson of her friend’s spanked ass below them, a few small bruises still evident from her last licking. Sam laid his hand on Claire’s bare ass and did the same as Dean, rubbing a circle on her back for a moment before he stood her up. Claire wasn’t crying but her still bright red face showed the anger and embarrassment she was feeling as Sam lead her around to the other side of Emily and the brother’s both pushed the contrite girls over the back of the couch. Emily instinctively found Claire’s hand and squeezed it tightly, both for relief and for warning. Claire wasn’t crying and she could feel the anger rolling over her in waves, but Sam was speaking again, and she could tell it was to her.

 

“You deserve this, brat,” he was speaking sternly, and Emily gave Claire a confused glance as if to say brat? But Claire wouldn’t meet her eye but she was suddenly a bit more still then she had been a moment before. Whatever, now was not the time to wonder what was going on between Sam and Claire, she could figure that out later. Now? Now she was feeling the cold, thin wood of the paddle circling across her still warm ass.

 

“Dean, no, wait!” She whined and the second later the wood slammed down, she dropped Claire’s hand, and cried harder then she had in a long, long time.