Ellen had the music on loud, trying to drown out the spinning of her thoughts. The last two days had been horrible.

First finding out that Sam and Dean had taken off in the middle of the night to hunt a veritable nightmare - even after both Ellen and Bobby had told them in no uncertain terms that they weren't ready, didn't have the right tools gathered and definitely needed to do more research.
Then - and that hadn't helped the anxiety at all - getting a 3 am call from Sam, breathlessly admitting that he needed help, asap. That Dean was behind bars at the local police-station, again, and that Sam had managed to get himself on the "next-to-kill" list of the monster, which he still didn't know how to gank.

Bobby had taken off in a cloud of exhaust-fumes, while Ellen had shifted between digging through lore books and calling everyone she knew for info on the monster.
She did finally get the needed information to Bobby - just in time, and even managed to call in enough favors to arrange a release for Dean, who, it seemed, had gotten into a fight on the street with what turned out to be - not a monster, stalking an innocent woman - but a business man who just happened to be going in the same direction.

Ellen paced into the kitchen, drained the last of the coffee into a mug, and set a new pot to brewing. The music drowned out everything – even the roar of 550 black horses rolling into the yard, not to mention a kitchen door opening and closing.

So when Ellen turned around, coming face to face with Dean it startled her. Bad enough to drop the coffee-mug. Hot coffee stung her hand, spread over the floor like a pool of blood from a dying body.
Ellen stared at the dark liquid for several long seconds, then she looked up at the young man, standing silently in front of her.
Almost without volition her right hand swung back, she took half a step forward and slapped Dean across the face. Hard. Her whole body-weight behind her hand. Ellen had been a hunter for a lifetime. She knew how to throw a punch. Only the fact that she kept her hand open, instead of in a fist, saved Dean from taking a tumble. Even as it was, the slap staggered the tall man on his feet, he stumbled sideways, looking wide-eyed at Ellen, as he put a hand to his burning cheek.

"Oow."

"The can of whoop-ass I ought to open on you, kid! I thought, I already told you once to put me on speed dial!"

"Sorry Ellen."

"I had to hear from Bobby, that all o' ya'all were still alive?"

"Sorry Ellen."

"Were you, or were you not, told not to go hunting anything until you knew how to actually kill the thing you were going to be hunting?"

"Sorry Ellen."

"Do you, or do you not, know better than to jump some random guy without making sure whether or not he is a monster?"

"Sorry Ellen."

"Is using your brother as bait a clever idea?"

"Sorry, Ellen."

Sam shifted his weight from one foot to the other.
"Uhm... Ellen?"

Ellen glared at him over Dean's shoulder.
"What?"

Sam pushed forward, past Dean, facing Ellen. He gulped once as he got a closer look at the fear and anger in her eyes, then he wriggled his broad shoulders and said firmly:
"That part was my idea. Dean didn't even know that I was setting myself up as bait before I'd done it."

"Why?" She asked, simply.

"It... uhm... it … seemed like a good idea at the time... uhmm… I mean... uhmm…sorry, Ellen?"

"Mmhhmm. A good idea?"

"Sorry Ellen."

Ellen took a deep breath.

"Using yourself as bait, while you were without backup, because your brother had gotten himself thrown into the slammer, seemed like A GOOD IDEA?"

"I didn't actually know that he had been arrested when…I… you see…"
Behind him, he heard Dean mutter: "Shut up, Sam. Just shut up."
"Uhm... I mean... I didn't think... I mean... I thought that…
"Just stop talking." That was Dean again, hissing the words into his ear.
" I... I …uhmm…sorry, Ellen?"

Ellen just stared at him, eyes narrowed. There was a long silence. Sam shifted awkwardly. He ducked his head and looked at Ellen from under his shaggy fringe of hair.
"Are… are you gonna slap me too?" He asked in a subdued tone.

"I'm thinking about it." Ellen answered, with a bite of menace, even though she couldn't suppress the twinkle of a smile completely. That kid and his puppy-dog eyes. Hard to stay angry, when he was looking at her like that.

"Don't bother, you'll just break your hand," a grumpy voice interjected.
Bobby shoved his way through the crowded kitchen, stomped into his office, shut off the music, sat down behind the desk, poured the last dregs of Walker into a glass and downed it in one mouthful. He scowled at the doorway.

"You two gonna come in here and give me an explanation? Or are you just gonna to stand there like a couple of stunned sheep?"

The brothers looked at each other – an entire conversation taking place in the space of a quick glance, then they moved into the office, standing shoulder by shoulder in front of the desk, prepared to meet the wrath of the man they thought of as the closest thing they had to a father, unconsciously straightening up, almost standing at attention. Neither of them was aware of doing it, but Bobby noticed, and sighed to himself, then grabbed onto his anger and held fast, steeling himself to get through the next part of this goddamn awful day.

"Listen you two knuckleheads. I do everything for you! Everything! You need some lore scrounged up – You need your asses pulled out of the fire – you call me, and I come through for you, every time! And you know what? I'm happy to do it. I love the two of you as if you were my own. I do. And I'll always come running when you need help."

The startled looks on the pale faces in front of him almost broke his heart. He had tried, he really had, to give those two some glimpses of a childhood, but sometimes it was painfully obvious that they had had very little softness in a very hard life. And frankly, softness wasn't his strong side. He would show a gruff kind of love, but as often as not in a form that couldn't be called anything but "tough love". On the other hand, that was the kind of love these boys knew, and responded to. From him, from Ellen – and not the least from their dad. Hadn't been much that was soft about John, even if he had loved his boys dearly. In his own obsessed way.

"And I don't expect much in return. I know that usually what I'll get is Jack with a side of squat."

"Bobby…"

"Do I sound like I'm done?"

"Sorry, Bobby."

"But I'll be damned if I'm gonna sit around waiting to bury you because you don't use whatever goddamn brains you two morons have between you. It might have slipped your mind that I told you to wait until you were ready? "

"Sorry Bobby."

"What the hell am I gonna do with the two of you? How the hell can I get you to stop and think before you just sprint off into the night?"

"Sorry Bobby." Sam this time.
Apparently, he had decided to take the hint from his older brother, who at the same time said in a low tone:
"Whatever you think you have to do, Bobby."

"Well, I can think of one thing, that might make you take pause the next time, you dumb-asses get it into your woolen brains to do something so stupid."

Bobby stood up and jerked his belt off with quick, angry movements.

Sam took a step back, Dean just sighed and asked docilely:
"Where do you want me?"

Sam grabbed Dean's elbow.
"Dean…"

"It's gonna be ok, Sam. I deserve it."

"You both do," Bobby grumbled.

"But…" Sam started to protest.

Dean shook his head.
"Sammy, just let it go. It'll be ok."
He looked to Bobby again – "So, should I clear the desk or…?"

Bobby looked at the piles of books, assorted boxes and bags on the table.
"Nah, that'll take all evening. Here."
He pushed the desk chair out next the table.
"Just bend over the back of that."

Dean glanced at Sam, then over his shoulder at Ellen, who was watching from the doorway to the kitchen.
He moved to the chair, and as his hands went to his belt, he asked resignedly:
"Would you two mind not watching this?"

Sam jerked like he had been smacked, then turned on his heel and walked quickly to the kitchen. Ellen sent Bobby a long look, looked to Dean, then left them, and went to clean the coffee from the kitchen floor.

There was a long pause, then the first snap of leather on skin echoed through the house, making Sam jump. Ellen glanced up at him. He was leaning against the wall, looking almost relaxed, unless you knew him well enough to see the tension in his long body.
As time went on and the sounds from the office became interspersed with muffled sounds of pain, something that sounded like feet stamping, and at one point even the unmistakable thunk of a heavy chair getting picked up a few inches and set back down hurriedly, the tension increased to the point where it was almost a relief to see the young man raise his hand to start biting on a nail.

"Waiting is the worst part, huh?" Ellen said, mostly to just say something, anything, to break the attention from what was happening in the next room.

Sam looked incredulously at her.
"No, hearing, knowing... that my brother is in pain, is the worst part."
He went back to gnawing on the hangnail.

Ellen had no idea how to respond to that, so she went back to cleaning the kitchen floor. When it was finally quiet next door the floor was cleaner than it had probably been in years.

Dean shuffled through the door a little while later, looking rather battered.
"Sammy, Bobby want to uhmm... see … you now."

He touched his brother's shoulder briefly.
"Are you ok, Sammy?"

Sam raised an eyebrow:
"You are asking me that, now?"
He shook his head and smiled slightly.
"I'll be fine, I guess."
Still shaking his head, he went into the office to face the music.

Dean sighed, and leaned against the wall, at the exact spot where Sam had been standing.

Ellen looked at him, he met her eyes briefly, then ducked his head, looking at the floor. When the first smack sounded from the office, Dean flinched as if he was the one who had been struck. Ellen walked slowly over to him. He kept twitching each time he heard the belt land.
She lifted a hand carefully, gently laying it against his cheek. Even that made him recoil slightly, until he met her eyes.
Ellen didn't know exactly what he saw there, but whatever it was, it made him gradually relax, even lean hesitantly into the touch. She smiled warmly at him.
"I'm so glad you are ok, Dean. And I am sorry about the slap."

"No, Ma'am, don't... I deserved it. It's ok."
"Well, I am sorry, kid. You really scared me. It's not an excuse, just an explanation."
"It's ok, really, Ellen. I'm sorry about this whole mess."
"Forget it Dean, we all make mistakes. This one is over and done with now. All forgiven, ok? Clean slate?"
The relief in his eyes were almost enough to make her own tear up.
"Yes, Ma'am…. Thank you."

With that, Ellen grabbed Dean by the shoulder, and roughly pulled him into a hug.
He put his forehead down on her shoulder.
She stroked his hair and held him close.
She held him while his body started to shake.
She held him, while she felt his tears soak into her shirt.
She held him while they heard the muffled yelps begin to start up in time with the leathery smacks.
She held him until the yelping quieted, became a muted conversation. Until he pushed himself back, turned away to rub his sleeve over his face before he gave her one of his heart-melting smiles.

Not the shit-eating grin of his youth, or the small almost pain-filled twitch of the lips of these last couple of years, but one of his rare, full, peaceful smiles.

Ellen smiled back, just as Sam and Bobby walked into the room.
She caught Sam up in a hug, got the air squeezed out of her, then turned to kiss the gruff man, who tried so hard to hide his big, soft heart behind a surly, scruffy exterior.