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."