A/N: Hi all! I wandered away from the episodes in this chapter so you could get to know Brinley a little better! I hope you enjoy it!
###################################################################################################
"How long are we in the car for this time?" Brinley whined from the backseat as they roared away from scarecrow country. She was growing real tired of the backseat of the Impala.
"Probably about five hours," Sam replied as he studied the map in front of him. "Dean, take a right up here, that will bring us to the interstate."
"It will give us time to talk," Dean added. "There are some things we want to discuss with you."
"I don't really feel much like talking," Brinley replied with a yawn. "I'm so tired and thought I'd take a nap."
"That's fine, you can listen," Dean replied as he glanced back at her in the rearview mirror. Brinley sighed with annoyance. "You can be annoyed all you want," Dean commented, "But you're going to hear us out." Brinley gathered her blanket from the floor and pulled it up to her chin. "I don't know if this is the way you're used to behaving, but it's not gonna fly with us anymore."
"This is me," she snapped. "Get used to it."
"That's not how it works, sorry kid...for now on you're going to play by our rules," Dean stated firmly. Brinley wasn't sure she liked where the conversation was going and sighed again.
"Our life is dangerous and we need to keep you safe," Sam stated.
"So that means you need to obey us at all times," Dean added firmly. "If me or Sam tell you to stay in the car, you stay in the damn car."
"Fine," Brinley huffed.
"We expect you to tell us the truth at all times, families need to be able to trust each other," Dean continued. "If you're scared to tell us the truth, do it anyway, because lying will only make things worse."
"Ok," she replied.
"We have a lot of dangerous weapons we need for our job," Sam explained. "Your little hands stay off of them unless you're trained by me or Dean, and we give you permission."
"This is stupid," she sighed with annoyance. "I would never touch your weapons."
"Just making sure," Sam commented.
"And your attitude is a big problem," Dean stated. "You're rude and disrespectful. Even though we're your brothers, we're adults, and you need to respect us whether you like it or not. Understand?"
I understand," she replied.
"Sam and I decided you'll get two warnings or strikes, and after the third strike, you'll be punished," Dean said and looked at her through the rearview mirror to see her reaction.
"Punished? How?" she questioned worriedly.
"Well...the punishment will fit the crime," Sam explained. "Putting yourself in danger or lying would definitely earn you a spanking."
"A spanking?" Brinley gasped as she squirmed in her seat. "But you can't do that...you're my brothers, not my Dad. And...and...you just can't. I won't allow it."
"We most certainly can. Dad left us in charge of you. Let's just hope it doesn't come to that," Dean stated sternly as his eyes met hers through the rearview mirror. "And trust me when I say that if Dad were around right now, you'd be one sorry little girl for the crap you've already pulled." The thought of a spanking scared her. Her Mom had never laid a hand on her and loser Doug would just give her empty threats and throw her out of the house. She knew Sam and Dean weren't giving empty threats.
"This is bullshit," she sighed angrily as she crossed her arms against her chest. "I'm not a little kid."
"That's 1, and yes, you are a little kid," Dean announced. Brinley pouted and pulled her blanket over her face. "We're not done with this conversation, so pull the blanket down," he ordered.
"Fine," she snapped as she pulled it down abruptly. "What now? Are you going to tell me that if spanking me doesn't work you'll tie me up and torture me?" Sam couldn't help but laugh at her dramatics. "It's not funny," she pouted. "None of this is funny. I...I..don't know if I can live up to these expectations and I don't want a spanking."
"You're right...I'm sorry...it's not funny," Sam agreed. "You're a smart kid Brinley and I know you can make responsible decisions."
"And trust me, if it does come to a butt warming, you'll survive, I promise," Dean said reassuringly. "Sam and I survived many."
"Good for you," she sighed angrily.
Sam turned in his seat to face her. "We know you're cutting yourself," he said. Brinley immediately felt tears fill her eyes. "Can I see your arm? It looked a little infected." Brinley felt her hands shaking in her lap and her face flushed red with embarrassment.
"No. I'm fine," she replied quietly as she hid her arm under the blanket. Ashamed of the truth, her first reaction was to tell them they were cat scratches, but she didn't want to break the rules so soon. "They'll go away on their own."
"Show Sam your arm," Dean ordered firmly. Brinley looked at Sam worriedly.
"It's ok," he said gently. "I'm not mad. I just want to help and I know you can't help it." She slowly rolled up her sleeve and placed her arm on the back of the seat. Tears fell from her eyes as Sam looked it over. "When we get to our next stop I'll put some ointment and band aids on it. Some of these cuts are infected." Brinley pulled her arm away and covered her face once again with her blanket. Sam and Dean exchanged worried glances.
"What are you using to cut yourself?" Dean questioned.
"Uh...a pocketknife," her muffled voice came from under her blanket.
"You can give that to me at our next stop," Dean stated. "If you feel like hurting yourself, you come to us and we'll help you." Brinley wiped the tears from her face from underneath her blanket. She was embarrassed but also relieved that someone finally knew her secret. "Ok?" Dean questioned when he didn't get a response from her.
"Ok," she replied. Brinley was relieved when the lecture stopped and dozed off to sleep. She woke up a few hours later to find they had stopped for lunch. Dean opened the trunk and pulled out her bag.
"The knife," he said as he set the bag on the seat next to her. Brinley took a deep breath. She didn't realize how hard it would be to give up the object she used to hurt herself. She ran her hand through her bag quickly and then looked up at Dean.
"I just remembered. I left it at the motel. I put it under my pillow," she lied. Dean shook his head and grabbed the bag. "Dean, no," she pleaded. He pulled out her clothes and dropped them onto the seat, and moments later he pulled out her small, pink pocketknife.
"This looks like a knife to me," he stated firmly. "That's 2 for lying." Brinley reached for it and tried to grab it from his hand.
"Give it back! My mom gave me that!" she cried. "I need it!"
"You can have it back when I know you won't harm yourself with it," he replied, feeling bad. Brinley frowned. "Put your clothes away," he said as he dropped the bag back onto the seat next to her. Dean stuffed the knife in his pocket and glanced at Sam for reassurance. He felt bad for being such a hard ass, but he knew it was necessary. Brinley stuffed her clothes back into the bag and handed it to Dean. Meanwhile, Sam grabbed the first aid kit from the trunk.
"Let's get those cuts cleaned up," he offered as he slid onto the seat next to her. Brinley set her arm on Sam's lap. She flinched when he dabbed it with peroxide, but within minutes he had it bandaged up. It felt strange to her having someone take care of her. "How's the foot feeling?" he asked as he pat his lap for her to put it there.
"It feels better," she said as she turned her body and rested her foot on his lap. Sam slid off her sneaker and sock, and felt around for anything unusual. Brinley was very ticklish and giggled while he examined her foot. Sam thought it was nice to see her smile.
"Doesn't feel like anything broken," he commented. "You have a bruise on the arch of your foot which is probably why it hurts when you walk. Just take it easy."
"Ok," Brinley replied. Sam put her sock and sneaker back on and slid out of the car. They headed into the diner and found a table for the three of them. "Do you have a picture of my Dad?" Brinley asked after they had ordered their food.
"Sure do," Dean replied as he pulled his wallet from his pocket. He pulled a folded 4x6 from his wallet and opened it. It was a picture of John with Sam and Dean when they were around her age. "That's our Dad," he said proudly. "Boy do I miss him."
"You look a lot like him," Sam commented.
"He looks nice," Brinley mentioned with a sadness to her voice. She wondered if she'd ever get to meet him.
"He's a good man," Dean replied. "Family is everything to him."
"If he calls again, do you think I could talk to him?" she asked. "I just want to say hi and hear his voice."
"Of course," Sam replied. "He doesn't call often, but we'll make sure you get to talk to him." Brinley smiled slightly and handed the picture back to Dean. The marks on her arm caught his eye.
"When did you start doing that?" he asked.
"When my Mom got sick," said Brinley. Just saying the word "mom" brought tears to her eyes. Brinley thought about her mom, laying in her bed, dying, and it made her want to hurt herself. Everytime she thought of her Mom in pain, she wanted to cause herself pain. She didn't know why but it made her feel better.
"That must've been so hard for you," Sam commented gently. Brinley nodded her head and quickly wiped a tear that dripped from her eye.
"She was my safe place," Brinley said sadly. Sam and Dean exchanged glances. Sam put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her in for a squeeze against his chest. "I miss her so much."
"I hope we can be a safe place for you too," Dean mentioned. Brinley nodded her head and pulled herself away from Sam.
"I have to go to the bathroom," she said withurgency as she stood up from the table and hurried toward the corner of the diner. Without trying to look suspicious, she swiped a steak knife from a table as she passed by. Talking about her Mom caused her a lot of pain and guilt, and hurting herself was the only thing that helped her feel better.