"Hey, Sam."
"Dean, check this out," Sam turned to his brother and handed him a stack of papers. "Remember those blind twins I told you about that have premonitions and then cats mysteriously end up dead all over?"
"Sam, where's Sammie?" Dean scanned the motel room for his daughter including the open bathroom and felt immediate unease.
"Relax, Dean. Sammie is fine." Sam shook his head in annoyance, typing on his laptop.
"Where is she, Sam?" Dean asked more urgently this time, leaning into his brother's personal space.
"I told you she's fine." Sam continued to type calmly ignoring Dean's angst.
"Where, Sam?" Dean yelled, slamming his palm on the lid of Sam's laptop to slap it closed. He finally had Sam's full attention.
"Sammie," Sam said smiling, "Is at the library."
"Why? With who? What is she doing there? She didn't walk there, did she?"
"Dean, calm down. Look, Sammie is 13 now. She isn't a little girl anymore and she just wants a little trust from us, a little independence. She is frustrated and feels like a third wheel in this hunting thing because we don't involve her. So I gave her a research project and she was thrilled. I drove her to library, walked her in, and told her I'd be back for her at 5."
"Cut the child psychology crap, Sam! Sammie doesn't get to go off on her own just because she is frustrated and cries on your shoulder about not feeling involved. Sammie isn't involved because it is dangerous, Sam. We've been through this a thousand times! I trusted you to keep her safe!" Sam jumped up and glared down at his brother.
"Don't you dare insinuate that I would put Sammie in danger! I love Sammie more than I love anyone, Dean. She is my only niece and I would do anything to protect her. I would die for her, Dean, and you know it."
"How could you leave her alone then, Sam? I mean anything could happen to her there. Who knows what might be around? She could be surrounded by-"
"Books, Dean," Sam said matter-of-factly, cutting his brother off. "Sammie is surrounded by books. She has holy water and salt in her backpack and she is wearing a rosary. I would never have left her if I thought for one minute that her safety would be compromised."
"Toss me the car keys. We're going to get her." Dean looked expectantly at his brother.
"I told her 5:00, Dean. It is only ten after 4."
"Now, Sam. We're getting her now." When Dean made up his mind, there was no debating.
Dean nervously tapped his hand on the steering wheel waiting for Sam to emerge from the library with his little girl. What the hell was taking so long? He fiddled with the radio in the Impala, trying to find some music to calm his nerves. This town obviously didn't have any stations that played Metallica or Led Zep. Just then, Sam slipped back into the passenger seat ... and he was alone.
"Sam." If looks could kill, Dean would have been guilty of killing his brother.
"Uh, so, yeah, Sammie left the library." Sam could not meet his brother's stare down.
"What? Repeat that."
"I looked everywhere in there for her, even the girls' room but I couldn't find her anywhere. And so then I asked the librarian. She said Sammie asked her where the nearest cemetery was and if it was within walking distance."
"And?" Dean sounded like he was a fraction away from going nuclear on Sam.
"Well, uh, there are two actually within walking distance. The librarian gave her directions to both."
"Your GPS skills better be flawless, Sam. Mind telling me what kind of crazy ass project you gave her that would make her go to a boneyard alone?"
"Hang a right at the stop sign. Believe me, nothing I asked her to do involved leaving the damn library." Now Sam finally looked pissed.
"Oh, so now you're done with that kumbaya-appease-Sammie crap?"
"Dean, she knows the rules. She knows not to go anywhere without one of us knowing. This crosses the line."
"Well, I'm so glad that you have your head out of your ass, Sam. Now, let's go find my daughter."
The first graveyard yielded no Sammie and Sam could see the sweat glistening on his brother, no doubt from sky-rocketing blood pressure. He could see Dean was scared and he was too but neither had yet admitted it to the other. They needed to stay strong for each other; that is how Winchesters got through shit.
"Sam, I will lose my mind if she isn't alright." Dean's voice was so low, Sam barely heard him.
"Dean, we will find her and she will be okay." Sam said this with more authority than he felt.
"You and her, Sam ... You two are my whole world." Dean's voice trembled slightly and Sam suddenly realized what a mistake he made in leaving Sammie. It occurred to him then that Sammie had never been without Dean, Sam, or John in her whole life. Dean was her primary watch dog but if Dean wasn't there, then Sam or John always was. And on the occasions that the Winchesters all had a job to do together, Sammie was left in the care of Castiel, the only non-Winchester entrusted with her care. This was the first time none of them were with her and it scared him shitless.
They pulled into the second cemetery and Dean drove up and down the narrow lanes.
"Dean, over there." Sam pointed, and both brothers let out a sigh of relief. There, squatting in front of an old grave marker, was Dean's only child, scribbling in a notebook. Dean stopped the car and they both jumped out and ran toward Sammie.
"SAMANTHA MARY WINCHESTER!" Dean bellowed at the top of his lungs. Sammie, startled by the sudden shout, lost her balance and toppled backward ... and into a freshly dug grave. Dean and Sam ran over to the edge and peered down. Sammie was on her back, filthy and breathing hard.
"Daddy? Holy hell, you scared the shit out of me!" There was never any question that Sammie inherited her Daddy's temper.
"I scared the shit out of you? I've spent the last 40 minutes scouring boneyards looking for your fugitive ass, Samantha, so don't talk to me about scared shitless. What the hell were you thinking?" Dean stared down at her with his hands on his hips waiting for an answer.
"Can we discuss this after you get me out of this body hole, Dad?" Dean could not have looked or felt angrier than he did at that moment. Sam kneeled down and reached his hand down to his niece.
"Grab my hand, Sammie." Sammie grabbed her uncle's hand. Sam was huge and built like a superhero and he had no problem pulling her up with one arm. Once he dragged her out of the grave, they both stood and brushed themselves off. Sammie, however, was extra muddy from falling into the fresh dirt.
"Gross." She muttered looking at her blackened hands.
"Gross? Gross is what your body would have been if a changeling or a davea got to you before we did!" Dean's theatrics could always make an impression.
"Really, Daddy? I was fine. I was just fine. Nothing was after me. Nothing was out here."
"That isn't the point, Samantha! You had no permission to be here. What were you doing out here?" Sammie looked over at her uncle.
"No, don't look at Sam to answer for you, Samantha. Eyes on me." Sammie looked back to her dad. "Answer the question."
"I was doing research for Uncle Sam."
"I never said you could leave that library, Sammie." Sam's voice was stern. "I would have never okayed that. Your dad is right. You had no permission to be out here. Don't you realize how dangerous it is to wander off alone? Especially, if your dad and I don't know where you are?" Now Sam was yelling too. "I told you to stay inside until I picked you up at 5. Those were my instructions."
"And I planned to be back inside well before 5. You showed up too early."
"Oh, so what, now it's Sam's fault that you got caught sneaking out?" Dean couldn't believe his daughter's audacity. "Sam gave you an order and you are expected to follow our orders whether we are watching or not!"
"How very 'John Winchester' of you, Dad." Sammie rolled her eyes and looked away but her last smart-ass remark sent Dean into a whole new level of mad. Dean grabbed Sammie's arm with his left hand and yanked her to his side. He used his right hand to land three searing swats to the seat of her jeans.
"Ow! Daddy!" Sammie screeched, trying to pull away from a very angry Dean.
"That," Dean said, pointing to her butt, "Was very John Winchester of me. Now," he said picking up her backpack and handing it to her, "Get in the car before I beat your ass in public." Sammie might have a temper but she wasn't dumb. She knew better than to continue bantering with her dad when he hit this level of pissed. She took her backpack and walked quickly in the direction of the car.
Sam and Dean followed.
"What the hell, Dean? I am tempted to douse her in holy water." Sam shook his head, wondering what had gotten into his normally angelic niece.
"Do it. And if that doesn't burn her ass, then I will." Dean stalked over to the car where his daughter stood leaning against it. Before he could lay into her for not obeying his order to get in, Sammie spoke up.
"Dad, don't yell. I'm filthy and I didn't want to mess up your baby's seats. You have something I can sit on?" Dean pulled off his jacket and threw it to her. She opened the door and leaned in to spread his jacket over the seat.
"Sammie?" Sammie stood and turned to face Uncle Sam. Sam splashed holy water in her face from a bottle he kept in the glove compartment.
"Uncle Sam! What the hell?" She wiped her face with her hands, streaking her face with dirt.
"That is what we were wondering too." Dean said and then he turned to his brother.
"Well, she isn't possessed. She just needs a good, old, 'John Winchester style' attitude adjustment." Dean turned back to his daughter.
"I don't want to hear another word from your smart mouth until we're back in the room. Now, get your ass in the car."
The ride home was quiet. No one said anything. The silence was awkward without even the radio. When they pulled up to the room, Sammie got out first and went over to the door. She didn't have a key so she waited, leaning on the door frame.
"Dean, I'm going to go to pick up dinner." Sam didn't like to be in the room when Dean punished his niece. He didn't mind witnessing swats but a full-blown ass whipping was best left between parent and child. On occasion, Sam swatted Sammie but it was rare and typically when Dean wasn't there to do the discipline. Dean nodded and got out of the car.
"Dean?"
"Yeah?"
"Are you calm enough to do this? I mean, I don't want to but I would do it for you if you needed me to."
"Thanks, Sam, but I got this."
Sam watched Dean and Sammie enter the room, door closing behind them. He felt sorry for both of them.
Sammie sat down on the floor with her back to the wall; she didn't want to get mud and leaves on the bedspreads. She watched her dad cautiously, the way an animal watches its prey. She was hoping she could get this punishment downgraded but she wasn't optimistic. Dean removed his wallet and keys from his pockets and laid them on the table. Then he proceeded to unbutton and roll up his sleeves. Finally, he slowly walked over to her bed, closest to the bathroom and sat at the end of it, facing her. He jestured with two fingers for her to come to him with one hand, and pulled his belt from his jeans with the other. She pulled her knees up and folded into a ball against the wall, tears already starting. She didn't dare take her eyes off of her father.
"Now, Samantha." Dean spoke quietly but firmly. He doubled the belt in his right hand, the ends tucked tightly into his fist.
"Daddy, please no," Sammie choked out but Dean wasn't taking the pity bait.
"Get over here. If I have to tell you again, I'm adding to the count." Adding to the count meant extra licks. When Dean gave her a real spanking, it was with his belt and the number of smacks equaled her age. So she was in for 13 smacks if she didn't earn extra for stalling or interfering. She rarely found herself in this position and she suddenly realized that she didn't think her actions through very well today.
"But, Dad, you already spanked me at the cemetery." He couldn't blame her for trying to get out of it. What kid wanted what they deserved when it came to discipline?
"You got swatted for being a smart-ass at the cemetery. That had nothing to do with putting yourself in danger, going off on your own without Sam or I knowing where you were, planning to 'sneak' back before you got caught. That is what I'm dealing with right now. Now get up." He pointed to the floor directly in front of him between his feet. When she didn't move, he repeated himself loudly, "Get up!"
"Dad, please, I don't want that," she said pointing at Dean's belt.
"Well, Samantha, you should have given that more thought before you went on your solo expedition. Your stalling just added one. You want me to add another?" She jumped up knowing that 14 was going to be bad enough. She stood in front of Dean and looked down at the floor. She couldn't bear to look at the disappointment in his eyes any longer. As soon as she felt his hands at the button fly on her jeans, she looked at him to silently plead to keep them up but in her heart, she knew that was futile. Dean tugged her jeans down to her knees careful to leave her boyshorts panties in place. He never smacked her bare butt; he thought that was a little twisted.
"Look at me." Dean commanded and waited until he had Sammie's full attention. "I'm not lecturing you on this one, Samantha. You know what you did and why we are here. And while neither one of us is going to enjoy this, it is getting done. You need to understand the importance of never going anywhere alone and without permission. I thought you knew this but you obviously need a refresher." Sammie wiped her eyes which had begun to flood.
"You have anything to say to me?" Dean asked her. She shrugged.
"Don't shrug your shoulders, Samantha. You answer me when I ask you a question."
"Don't smack me with this." Sammie tried pulling the belt from Dean's hand but his fist was like iron.
"You need 15?"
"No, sir." She answered quickly and let go of the belt.
"Bend over," Dean said patting his left thigh which was resting against the edge of the mattress. Sammie placed herself over his knee, her upper body resting on the bed. She reached up to grab a pillow to hug and cry into. Dean began to spank her with the belt, sharp cracks well placed on her mid-cheeks, sit spots, and upper thighs. He didn't like to draw out the process but he paced himself, wanting each stinging smack to register. Toward the end, with a few smacks left, Sammie tried to roll out of position but her dad was able to anticipate the move and kept her locked in position. He didn't want this to go on any longer as his daughter was sobbing and apologizing by this point. After the last swat across her sit spot, Dean dropped the belt on the floor to signal to her that it was over. She continued to sob for a few minutes face down, still in spanking position over her daddy's knee. Once her cries began to subside, Dean told her to stand up. She slowly back-crawled pushing off of Dean's thigh to a standing position. Dean stood too and gently took her chin in his hand to look at him.
"I don't ever want to have to do that again. Do you understand me?"
"Yes, sir." Oh, now he was sir. Sammie was funny like that. Daddy was the status quo. Dad was used when she was less than pleased with something. And sir was reserved strictly for punishment and discipline moments. He was fine with this as it told him what her mindset was.
"Eat your dinner, shower, brush your teeth, and go to bed. You got 30 minutes. Understood?"
"I'm not hungry." Sammie's voice was soft but there was still the slightest bit of attitude left in her, her hands behind her massaging the hot cotton.
"You want another swat, Samantha?"
"No, sir." Her voice was a whisper now.
"Then you'll do what you were just told to do." Dean was firm but kissed her forehead so she understood it was time to stop sulking and move on. She wasn't one to want immediate comfort after being corrected but Dean always showed her some brief affection even though it wasn't accepted or returned until much later. He never wanted her to doubt his love despite her poor behavior.
Dean walked toward the front door. He wanted to let Sam know the coast was clear to come inside.
"Dad?" Already, Sammie was softening.
"Yeah." He turned back to look at her, his hand on the front door. Sammie looked her dad right in the eye.
"I wish Uncle Sam was my dad instead of you." Maybe she wasn't softening after all.
What could he possibly say to that? Dean wondered as he walked out the door.
Dean leaned against the Impala's bumper next to his brother. Sam tried to hand Dean a sandwich but Dean's mind was elsewhere.
"You okay?"
"I just beat Sammie's ass, Sam. Do you think I'm okay? I'm not okay."
"She'll live, Dean. Hell, all three of us have survived John Winchester ass beatings. The Dean Winchester version isn't quite that bad." Sam tried to joke with his brother.
"Yeah, well ... " Dean replied, looking off into the woods.
"Yeah, well, all things considered, are you okay?" Dean turned to look at his brother.
"She said she wishes you were her dad, Sam." Dean's eyes filled up. "How do you think I am, all things considered?"
"Dean, she didn't mean that."
"Yes she did, Sam. And I don't blame her. Not one bit. You know damn well that you would be the better dad. Talking things out, hug therapy, all that Dr. Phil kind of shit that I ain't cut out for." Dean looked up at the sky as if answers might fall from there.
"Dean, Sammie loves you more than she loves anyone in this world. She has your temper and your attitude and that is why she talks trash when she is mad. She's a mini-Dean. Don't be hurt by what she says when she is angry." Dean looked away and shook his head.
"Go on in, Sam. I'm gonna stay out here for a bit."
"Dean, I-"
"Sam, please. I don't want to talk about this right now."
"Dean, you're a great dad. Really, Dean, you are."
"Would you just go in, Sam? Check on Sammie, alright?" Dean's breath was ragged and Sam knew he was close to tears.
Sam stood next to his brother silently for a few more minutes just to make sure he was okay to be alone before going to check on Sammie.
When Sam walked in, Sammie was sitting on the bed fiddling with her iPod. Her turkey sandwich only had two bites out of it.
"Hey, Sammie." Sam sat on the edge of her bed. Her hair was wet from the shower and she was wearing one of Sam's old Green Day T-shirts which made a full-length nightshirt for her. Her eyes were red from crying.
"Hey, Uncle Sam." Her voice cracked and her eyes filled up again.
"C'mere, Sammie," Sam said opening his arms to her. Sammie crawled right into Sam's embrace. She sat on his lap and let him rock her gently while he shhhh'd into her hair and rubbed her back. After several minutes, Sammie calmed against her uncle's chest and Sam pulled her back so he could see her face.
"You okay, beautiful?" He asked, pushing her tears away with his thumb. She shrugged and played with the hem of his shirt.
"Sammie, look, I know how you feel and-"
"How could you know how I feel, Uncle Sam? No one held you down and beat your butt until you cried." Sammie was indignant again. Such a little Dean.
"Sammie, I have been on the business end of a belt dozens of times in my life. I think I know exactly how you feel."
"Who beat your butt?"
"My dad, your dad, and Uncle Bobby."
"Seriously?"
"Seriously. Far more often and far worse than you'll ever get in this lifetime."
"I thought you were the good one, Uncle Sam." Sammie smiled at her uncle.
"I was. But even I had my wayward moments. And besides, I wouldn't be the wonderful uncle I am if I hadn't been brought up understanding rank and command in a family. I'm the person I am because we lived all lived with rules and consequences."
"Didn't it piss you off?"
"Well, I didn't like it. I hated getting my ass whooped. But I never got one I didn't deserve and I never got one that didn't work. I can honestly tell you that I never got the belt twice for the same thing. And you know what else?"
"What?"
"My dad? Your dad? Uncle Bobby? They did what they did because they loved me. If you think it is hard getting smacked, I promise it is ten times worse for the one administering the discipline. Dean loves you, Sammie. He loves you more than anyone or anything in this world and he would rather die than see you hurt. If anything happened to you, Dean would never forgive himself."
"I know." Sammie's voice was barely a whisper.
"Sammie, Dean is really hurting right now. He is hurting bad."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean what you said to him ... When you were outside." Sammie looked embarassed.
"He told you what I said?" Sam nodded.
"I was so mad, Uncle Sam. I was doing something to help you guys and he punished me for it."
"He didn't punish you for helping, Sammie, and you know it. And you know something else?" She looked up at her uncle.
"If Dean didn't beat your butt, I would have."
"I'm sorry, Uncle Sam." Sammie hugged Sam tightly.
"It isn't me you owe the apology to, Sammie." Sam pulled back and nodded toward the front door. Sammie got up and walked toward the door. She turned back to Sam before opening it.
"Uncle Sam, I'm glad you're my uncle."
"I know, Sammie. And it would be great if Dean knew that you are glad that he is your dad." He winked at her and she smiled before closing the door.
"Dad?" Dean heard his daughter's tentative voice before he saw her standing by his side.
"What are you doing out here, Samantha?" His voice sounded tired, defeated.
"I came out to see you."
"Dammit, Sammie, you were sent to bed! What is with the defiance today?"
"Daddy, please, I need to talk."
"Didn't your talking get you in enough trouble for one day? You have until the count of three to get your butt in your bed. One!"
"Daddy, listen to me!"
"Two!"
"I'm sorry, Daddy! Don't say three!" Sammie threw herself against her dad, wrapping her arms around his waist so tightly, his breath hitched. She began to sob uncontrollably, worse than she did while she was being punished, clenching Dean's shirt in her fists.
"Hey, Sammie, it's okay, baby." Dean wrapped his arms around his girl and stroked her hair. "Daddy's here, Sammie. I got you." She looked up at him.
"Daddy, please don't hate me." She buried her face into his chest, as sobs continued to shake her whole body.
"Hey, Sammie," Dean said firmly but gently. His hand pulled her chin upward so she would have to face him. "There is nothing you could ever do to make me hate you. You know that."
"What about what I said earlier about Uncle Sam being my dad? I am so sorry I said that, Daddy. I love Uncle Sam but I don't really wish he was my dad."
"Sammie, listen to me. I know why you said what you said. I was a kid once. I get it. Sometimes as your dad, I have to do things for your own good even if neither one of us enjoys it. Like taking you for vaccination shots or making you go to bed before Late Night or spanking your butt when you deliberately defy or disrepect us. I know how it feels to be disciplined by your dad, Sammie. I think you forget that. And my old man pissed me off more than once especially when I thought I was too old to get an ass whooping. And while I love your Poppa John, sometimes I didn't like him very much. But you know what he told me? He said it wasn't his job to make me like him. He said it was his job to raise me right. And he did. And John Winchester? He is a great dad."
"Not as great as you, Daddy." Dean smiled at his not-so-little girl. He caressed her cheek with his palm. Then his face looked brooding again.
"Do you think I could ever hate you, Sammie?"
"No, even though getting spanked feels more like hate than love."
"Yeah, well it doesn't feel good to me either so let's do our best not to go there again, alright?"
"I'll try but I am a Winchester, Daddy."
"Don't I know it. I may get angry with you, Sammie, but I could never hate you. You got that?"
"Got it, Daddy."
"I love you, princess." He leaned down and kissed her forehead and then hugged her tightly.
"I love you too, Daddy." She suddenly jumped up and wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist, like she did when she was little.
"Aren't you getting a little too big for this?"
"Nope!" Sammie giggled and kissed her dad's cheek before resting her head on his shoulder.
"Glad to hear it, baby girl," Dean said as he carried her back into the room.
END