AUTHOR'S NOTE: After the dumpster fire that occurred in the comments, I want to say a couple things. Here's the definition of Constructive Criticism: "the process of offering valid and well-reasoned opinions about the work of others, usually involving both positive and negative comments, in a friendly manner rather than an oppositional one." If you want to tell me, "I think Dean was too harsh in the last chapter and he shouldn't have said/done XYZ, and here's why I feel that way..." or "I don't think it's fair that Charlie got in trouble for XYZ when she admitted that she did something wrong", that's fine. That's constructive criticism. Telling me to 'grow up and stop being defensive' is not.

I enjoy reading what people think about the story and characters and I love it when people get into it and analyze things. However, when someone says things like, "All there is is spanking!" and "Charlie gets spanked constantly, use other consequences!" it's not constructive, it's complaining. And I am going to defend my writing when people say things that are just not true or make blanket statements like "All that happens is spanking!" As I have said more than once, Charlie DOES get other consequences, and there are story arcs where no spanking occurs. Go back and read chapter 4, where Dean and Sam sit Charlie down and talk about her behavior and consequences for the very first time. The last thing they mention is spanking.

And for real- we're now 78 chapters in to this story, people, there's spanking in it, and there's going to continue to be spanking in it. For someone to read the story this far and then all of a sudden decide to complain about "too much spanking" doesn't make sense and tells me that perhaps they are just trolling. For those of you who take the time to leave reviews and constructive criticism and support, I thank you.

Also, for those of you who have asked- my pinky is doing well, I rarely tape it any more, and I'm doing stretching exercises every day. I go back for a re-check to make sure the bone is healed at the end of the month. Thanks for asking!

~ ~ spn ~ ~ spn ~ ~ spn ~ ~

"I know what the angel said, and I don't care!" Grandpa John's angry bark woke me up. I sat up on the sofa and looked over- Uncle Sam was sitting at the table across the room in front of his laptop, with Daddy on one side and Grandpa John on the other.

"But Dad-" Daddy started.

Grandpa John interrupted. "Look, I don't exactly trust him one hundred percent yet either, okay? If we get on the road now, we can be there by nightfall!"

Uncle Sam tapped on the laptop keys and looked up at Grandpa John. "Look, Dad, the temperature's barely gotten above freezing today, and there's reports of a lot of accidents on the side roads-"

"We're not going to be driving side roads," Grandpa John said stubbornly.

"It's going to drop below freezing as soon as the sun goes down, and you know that a lot of roadways freeze before that," Uncle Sam insisted, "it's not exactly safe."

"Don't you think we should check out what Castiel said, first, before we go on ahead with this?" Daddy asked.

"Dammit, you know how many years I've been searching for him, and he's practically under our noses- I'm not going to just let this go!" Grandpa John's voice got louder. "You don't want to go with me, fine, I'll go on my own!"

"That's not what we're saying, Dad, and you know it!" Uncle Sam gave him an angry look, "Just—wait-and check things out a little more."

"I'm sick of waiting!" Grandpa John yelled, and I started to cry.

"Don't!" I exclaimed, "Don't argue any more!"

All three of them looked over at me. Grandpa John dragged his hand over his face, and then sighed heavily.

"It's okay, Charlie, we're just—expressing our opinions, and we all get a little loud sometimes," Daddy crossed the room and came over to sit next to me, "You feeling warm enough?"

"Yeah," I said. He put his arm around me and I snuggled into his side. "Can we go play in the snow again?"

Daddy chuckled. "I don't think that's a good idea, kiddo, your shoes are still wet. Your other shoes are still packed, aren't they?"

"Yeah, I think you put them in the trunk," I told him, "What're we gonna do about Christmas? I thought we were gonna find a house to live in together."

Grandpa John gave a little huff. "A house, Dean? Why are you telling her these things when you know that what we're trying to do is hunt down this-"

Daddy put his hand up. "Dad, don't. I know, okay? We were just talking the other day, about stuff."

"Let's go over and get some lunch- it's the middle of the afternoon, hopefully the diner won't be busy," Uncle Sam said.

"Sounds good," Daddy stood up, "I'll go get your other shoes, Charlie," he got out his car keys. "Dad? You gonna come too?"

"I don't know, I want to call Bobby again and see if anything's changed," Grandpa John said.

"He told you yesterday that he'd call you the minute he saw anything different," Uncle Sam looked at him.

I got up and went over to Grandpa John, putting my arms around his waist. "Come with us, please? And we can talk about Christmas an' stuff!"

Grandpa John had an uncomfortable look on his face as he looked down at me. I smiled at him, and he relaxed, and gave me a little smile. "All right," he said with another heavy sigh. He cupped his hand around my cheek and I let him go.

My slip-on shoes were cold from having been in the trunk. I shivered a little as we walked across the mostly-cleared parking lot, holding on to Daddy and Uncle Sam's hands so that I wouldn't slip. There were now patches of ice in different spots.

The diner was full of people trying to stay warm, but it wasn't too busy. Grandpa John was distracted and kept checking his phone. After we ordered, he got a phone call, and he got up and walked outside to talk.

I tried to sit quietly, but seeing people still playing in the field made me feel excited about the snow.

"Daddy, have you ever been sledding?" I asked him.

He glanced at Uncle Sam. "A couple times, when we were kids."

"Will you take me sometime? I've never been."

Uncle Sam raised his eyebrows. "You've never been sledding?"

I shook my head. "Uh-uh, we lived in the 'partment the whole time, an' there weren't any hills around for us to go sledding on. We never went ice skating either."

"Ice skating seems dangerous, you're sliding around with what are basically razors on your feet?" Daddy shuddered, "No thank you."

"We'll have to take you sledding next time it snows," Uncle Sam said to me.

"Yeah, I wanna go!" I looked out the window, and then back at Daddy. "Can we get a Christmas tree?"

Daddy looked uncomfortable, and he glanced at Uncle Sam again. "Uh, we'll have to see where we are and what's...happening."

I felt annoyed all of a sudden. "But I wanna have a tree! An' do all the stuff that you're s'posed to do at Christmas!"

"Charlie, I said we'll have to see!" Daddy said with annoyance, frowning at me.

"That's not fair!" I pounded the table with my fist.

"That—is--enough-" Daddy said tersely.

"Fine!" tears came to my eyes and I started to slide out of the booth so I could storm away.

Daddy grabbed my arm. "Oh no you don't, you're not going anywhere. What did I tell you? I want you right by me."

I tried to jerk my arm away from him. "Lemme go!" I felt annoyed, but also sad.

He leaned down and said in a low voice, "One more thing and we're going back to the room, and you're getting a spanking."

I burst into tears. "It's not faaaaiir! I just wanna talk about Christmas an' all, we didn't do anything the past two years 'cause of Mommy bein' sick, an' I just—jus' wanted-" I put my head down and covered my face with my hands.

"Oh, Charlie," I heard Uncle Sam say.

I felt hands on my arms, and then Daddy was pulling me to sit in his lap. "I'm sorry, baby, I forgot about that," he said sympathetically, "We've never- we don't really do holidays real well, so it's not something I spend a lot of time thinking about. I'm sorry." He put his arms around me and kissed my forehead.

"We'll make sure we do Christmas, and make it nice for you," Uncle Sam said to me.

"I want you to tell us all about Christmas and the things that you did with your mom, okay sweetheart?" Daddy looked down at me.

I sniffled, "I dunno, I can't remember much from before."

"Well, think about some things that you'd like to do, and we'll see if we can make them happen, all right?" Uncle Sam asked.

"That sounds like a good idea," Daddy said, "We can come up with some stuff to do together, make it a Winchester Christmas."

The waitress brought our food, and set all the plates out. Uncle Sam got up to go tell Grandpa John that the food was here, and they came back in with faces red with cold. Grandpa John cupped his hands around his coffee mug.

I slid off of Daddy's lap and onto the seat, and wiped my face, then I started to eat.

I watched as some workmen came from the back of the restaurant and started to string up shiny red and green garland at the front windows. They had a big metal cart that had bins with strings of lights in them too.

"So what's the plan?" Uncle Sam asked Grandpa John.

"Bobby said no change," Grandpa John said, "I'm still thinking about things."

Once we had finished eating, I followed Daddy up to the cash register to pay the bill. One of the workmen was behind the counter, he had been stringing up little lights all around the display case that held the pies and cakes.

"Hey kid, pull my finger," he reached his hand towards me with the index finger out, grinning.

"Excuse me?" Daddy asked in a suspicious voice.

"All right, just give me a boop then," the workman pointed at me, "It's okay, it's not gonna hurt ya. Go ahead!" he grinned, and I looked up at Daddy, who gave me a short nod.

I reached out and touched the man's fingertip with the tip of my index finger, and when I did, the lights in the display case came on.

"Whoa, kid, you got the magic touch!" the man said, laughing.

"Wow, how'd you do that?" I asked, looking at the man and then at Daddy.

"It wasn't me, it was all you!" the man said.

"I'll bet you just flipped a switch back there or something!" I stood on my tip-toes and tried to peer over the top of the counter.

"Shh, don't ruin the magic of Christmas," the worker said, raising his eyebrow.

"All right, thank you," Daddy said, stuffing a couple of bills in the tip jar on the counter. He took my hand. "Let's go."

I woke up to pounding on the door. "Dean, open up!" Uncle Sam was calling.

Daddy got put of bed and hurried over to the door, letting Uncle Sam in. It was barely light out.

"Dad's gone, he left in the middle of the night," Uncle Sam said.

"Aw, dammit," Daddy raked his hand through his hair. "why couldn't he have waited?"

"Let me have the keys, I'll go after him and bring him back," Uncle Sam said.

"Sam, I've gotta go too-" Daddy said desperately.

"Dean, you can't, what about Charlie? We can't bring her with us, it's too dangerous." Uncle Sam reminded him.

Daddy sighed. "All right." he crossed the room and got out his keys, handing them to Uncle Sam. "Where the hell is the angel? We could use his help right about now!"

"I don't know, Dean."

"Uncle Sam, do you have to go?" I asked him, going over to him.

"Yes, honey, I do," he bent down and picked me up. I hugged him tightly. "Be careful," I said softly, "I love you, Uncle Sammy."

He kissed the side of my head. "I love you too, Charlie, we'll be back soon." he set me on the floor, and then nodded at Daddy, and then left.

Daddy rubbed his face. "Well, you want to go see about some breakfast?" he asked me.

"Okay," I agreed.

I went to get dressed, and checked my tennis shoes. Daddy had put them on the heating vent upside down, and they were finally dry. I put them on, and then got into my coat.

When we got into the diner it was full.

"You can wait about 15 minutes, or go sit at the counter," the waitress said.

Daddy looked at me. "What do you think? Counter? We can drool over all the pies in the front case," he grinned at me.

"Yeah, let's sit at the counter," I said. Daddy had to help me get up on the stool, and I spun around in circles as we waited for the waitress to bring the menus.

She poured a cup of coffee for Daddy and said, "Be right back," and hurried away.

We were sitting at the far end of the counter, which was near the hallway that went to the kitchens and had a pay phone and the rest rooms.

"Daddy, I gotta go potty, can I?" I pointed down the hallway.

"Yeah, go ahead," he lifted me down off the stool, and I walked down the little hallway. I could hear the sounds from the kitchen, water running, dishes clattering, and talking. As I pushed open the door to the bathroom, there was a huge crash, like the sound of a lot of dishes breaking, and someone hollered. It startled me, and I tripped as I walked in...

...I came out of the rest room, wiping my hands on my pants, and sat down at my seat.

I looked across the table and waited for Miss Susan to talk. She took a bite of her burger and then a drink of her coffee, and set the cup down. "Well, Charlie, we still haven't been able to find anyone."

"But- I thought you said-"

"There is no one suitable on your mother's side at all, they're all elderly and in retirement homes, or in hospice. And your father- well, there's no one at all."

"But you said you found a file with his name!" I protested, hoping against hope.

Miss Susan looked uncomfortable. "Well...there is..." she glanced to the side, and the leaned forward. "Listen, you can't tell anyone I told you this, all right? I did find your father's name, in a couple of law enforcement databases. Problem is, it's for things like arrest warrants or as a person of interest."

"What's that mean?" I ate a french fry.

"It means that the police think he was possibly involved in a crime or aware of a crime that was committed, and they want to talk to him. Now, if he's got arrest warrants out for him that's not a good thing, and the state wouldn't give you to him because of that, so it's kindof a lost cause." Her phone chimed and she looked at the screen for a moment.

"But- you said you wanted to put me with family if at all possible!"

"And I do, hon, but, it's against the law to place a child with someone who's been in the system. And really, I haven't been able to find out any info about what the warrants were for, so...it's best just to consider that a dead end. I'm sorry, kiddo."

I stared down at the table, willing the tears that had risen in my eyes to go away. I had been waiting, for weeks now, and the disappointment was almost too much.

"So, how's it going over there? You settling in?" she picked up her burger again and began to eat.

"It's...going. I don't like it, it's too loud," I grumbled.

She chuckled. "Well, Doug and Jean do have a full house, but they're one of the only places that usually have a bed available when we need it. And they're good at what they do."

"All it is is chores," I complained.

"I know it's different than what you're used to, but when you've got a houseful of foster kids everyone needs to pitch in to keep the place running, so you can't fault them for wanting to make sure everyone has a hand in things. And it's teaching you responsibility," she said primly.

I looked up at her with a glare. "I had responsibility before, I took care of my mom when she was sick and- and dying!" I exclaimed hotly, tears coming to my eyes again. This time I couldn't make them go away, and they started to slip down my cheeks. I lowered my head and closed my eyes.

I felt her hand on mine. "I know it's been rough for you, hon, but you've got to abide by their rules," she said gently. "Do you want to go back to the counselor and talk some more?"

I swiped at my eyes. "No, I didn't...she didn't really help me." I had had a couple of sessions with Ms. Connie, who tried to get me to "draw my feelings" about my mom dying, and the cancer, and when I couldn't do that, she tried to have us "do some free-form dancing to get in touch with our feelings".

Miss Susan chuckled again. "That's another example of you needing to get with the program, kiddo, you've got to actually talk to people in order to get some help."

"I did try to talk, she just wanted to do all this stuff like have me draw or—or dance. How'm I s'posed to draw my feelings? My feelings are inside of me!"

She smiled. "Good point. Well, it's a technique that helps some people, but she said you were resistant to even talking."

"I don't want to talk, I just want to be left alone."

She shook her head. "You are a stubborn one, I'll give you that. Well, right now you've just got to buckle down and get used to things. Now that I haven't been able to find any relatives, I can start the paperwork to put you in the adoption database, and we can get that started."

I felt a pang of nervousness. "What—does that mean?"

"It's been long enough that with no family available, I can get the ball rolling for you to be available for adoption. There are lots of families looking for young kids, wouldn't you like to find a forever home to live in, instead of a foster home with a ton of kids?"

I swallowed. "I—I guess." The idea of going to live with a family of total strangers wasn't appealing, but if it meant I'd get away from where I was right now, I guess I'd do it.

"Good. I'll let Jean know when the next adoption open house is, and once I get you entered into the system and everything gets processed, you can come to the next one, okay?" she smiled at me.

Her phone rang, and she answered it. "Hey," she said, and then she glanced at her watch, "I'm with the last client of the day, I can be back at the office in about...half an hour or so? Okay, yeah. We'll go over the files then. All right, bye." she disconnected the call and put the phone in her purse. "You need to eat your food, I've got to get you back."

I sighed and picked up my burger. "Okay," I said, and started to eat.

The t.v. was loud when we came in the front door. "Took you long enough," Doug grunted from the sofa. He was watching another war documentary.

Jean came to the living room door. "Go get ready for bed, Charlie, it's late. We'll talk about your chores in the morning."

"I need to talk to you," Jean said, looking at Miss Susan.

"Make it quick, I've still got to go back to the office to work on the case files for court tomorrow," Miss Susan said, "Bye, Charlie."

"Bye, Miss Susan, thanks for taking me out for dinner," I called.

I walked down the hall to the girl's bedroom, and went over to my bed, which was a lower bunk. I knelt down and pulled the plastic bin out from under the bed that was for my clothes, and got out my pajamas. I stood up, sighing, and shoved the bin back under the bed with my foot.

Rachel, the girl on the top bunk, rolled over and hissed, "Some of us are trying to sleep, ya know!"

I ignored her and went to the bathroom to do my nightly routine. Teeth, hair, face, toilet, clothes in hamper. I climbed into my bed and curled up in a ball, sending out hope to the universe that a family member would be found for me, someone, anyone...

I followed the other kids down to the basement and watched as they stood shoulder to shoulder in a line in front of Doug, who leaned on a metal desk. I felt nervous- I had seen Doug leading everyone down the stairs right after I'd arrived, but I hadn't known what was happening, and no-one would talk about it. Plus I had been too sunk in the grief over my mom dying to care what was happening.

"You two have been here long enough now that it's time for you to get with it," he said to me and Lucy, who had come here a couple days after I had. I glanced at her, standing next to me on the end. She looked as nervous as I felt. The tension was thick in the room.

Doug shifted and crossed his arms. "We've let you have an adjustment period, you've gotten used to the house and the chore system, now you have to learn the rest of it. Every time you don't do what you're required, you miss a chore, or you don't do it to our satisfaction, that's a mark against you. You get mouthy, you disobey, you get bad grades or in trouble for something at school, those are all marks against you too. At the end of each week, the marks will be tallied and you'll get a punishment. Everyone is present for this, because all of you can learn from each other's mistakes, and if you see what misbehavior gets the others, it will deter you from doing the same thing."

He stood up and went around to the other side of the desk and opened a drawer, bringing out a pad of paper with a chart on it. He slid that drawer closed and then opened a drawer to the side, and pulled out a couple of items, pacing them one at a time on the desk. A wooden ruler, a leather strap, and a long, thin stick.

I gulped anxiously. Were those things going to be used for the punishments? Were foster parents allowed to do stuff like this to the kids?

Doug put his finger on the chart. "We'll start with the boys first. Hunter, you didn't do the dishes two nights in a row and had to be reminded-"

A thin blonde boy interrupted, "I can't help it, I'm forgetful, I have trouble remembering when the chores change each week! I asked Jean if I could just keep doing the same chores!" he whined.

Doug glared at him. "Are you mouthing off to me and being defiant?"

"N-no, sir," the boy dropped his eyes to the floor, going pale.

"Shut up and don't interrupt me again. You also got a report home from school that you didn't turn in three assignments this week."

"I—I forgot-"

"I said shut UP!" Doug snapped, picking up the strap. "Since you're so forgetful, I think this will help you to remember. Pants down and lean over the desk."

"But I can't help-"

"Boy, you just bought yourself another 5! Now get over here! You know the drill!"

I stared at the floor as Hunter shuffled forward and undid his jeans.

My stomach clenched up. Were we really going to have to be here to watch?

Hunter walked around to the side of the desk, pushing his jeans down, and then leaned over, laying his torso on the desk and putting his hands on the back of his head.

Doug walked around behind him, the buckle on the strap clanking. I lowered my head and held my breath, closing my eyes so I wouldn't have to see.

"Hey, you—Charlotte! Get your head up so you can watch and learn!" Doug yelled at me, and I raised my head and opened my eyes as he raised the strap.

~ ~ spn ~ ~ spn ~ ~ spn ~ ~

The baby monitor was blinking like crazy when Dean came out of the bathroom. He crossed the room and picked it up, adjusting the volume, and sighed. Liz had turned the volume down again in her sleep. The baby was fussing, not a full-blown cry yet.

Liz rolled over in bed and opened her eyes.

"I'll get her, I'm already up," Dean told her, and set the monitor back down in the dresser. He walked down the hall to the baby's room and opened the door. The smell in the room told him she needed a diaper change.

"Hey, sweetheart," he greeted the infant, picking her up out of the crib. He laid her down on the changing table and changed her into a clean diaper, and then lifted her to his shoulder as he carried her out to the kitchen.

There were already bottles of formula poured and waiting in the fridge, all he had to do was remove the cap and pop one into the microwave. He was able to do this one handed, then he shifted the baby on his arm and affixed a nipple onto the bottle, giving it a shake before giving it to the baby.

He sank down in a chair at the kitchen table and watched as she greedily drank down the formula. Liz had had issues with producing enough breast milk, and it had made her feel like a "not good enough" mother. She'd gotten depressed, and she was already tired from the hours of middle-of-the-night feedings, so her mood had gotten pretty low. Dean was trying to help out more, getting up in the middle of the night to feed the baby, taking over when he came home from work and bathing her in the evenings, so that Liz could have some time to herself. Liz had confessed that she felt like she didn't know what she was doing or how to care for this tiny infant who was completely dependant on them for everything. Dean felt the same way, but he figured that the love he felt for the baby would help him figure out what to do. One of his co-workers at the garage had told him that with babies, you just gave them what they wanted, feed them, change them, and hold them, and that's all they needed right now. And Dean was fine with that, he loved holding the baby and feeling her little fingers grip his shirt or his finger, and how she'd look into his eyes.

The baby reached one hand up and patted his t-shirt as she sucked on the bottle.

"Is that good stuff?" he asked her. All of a sudden, she pulled her head away and pushed the nipple out of her mouth. She looked up at him, and her eyes connected with his, and she gave him a big grin. She really seemed to focus on him, and it made a happy warmth spread through Dean's heart.

He smiled down at her and was aware that his eyes had gotten tears in them. "You're my girl, Charlotte," he said quietly, and she gurgled happily and then grabbed the bottle and stuck it back in her mouth.