Author's Note: Hello, everyone. I hope everyone is staying safe and healthy. I got caught – testing positive over the weekend. Luckily, my symptoms are mild, and I've taken advantage of the first couple of days of my quarantine to binge watch Hawkeye and work on this story. I'd gotten a start on it a couple of weeks ago, but I probably deleted what I'd written three or four times.

If you like what I've written, please post a review or send me a private message. I always love hearing from my readers.

Standard warnings: This chapter contains some mild profanity and spanking. If that offends you, please hit the back button now.

EDIT: This chapter has been edited to correct typos and other errors. There may be some other minor changes, but nothing that will affect the storyline.

CHAPTER 3

John groaned as he rolled over and grabbed his cellphone from the bedside table and thumbed it on to check the time. It was a few minutes before noon, and John estimated he'd had about four hours of sleep. Frankly, that was considered a good night for him, but he was getting too old to drive all night.

He climbed out of bed and stretched to loosen his stiff muscles and joints as he thought back to the evening before. It had taken a little while for Natalie to guide him to where she had hidden her rattletrap of a car on an old logging road that connected to the county highway. They'd driven past it three times before she recognized the turn off.

Frankly, John had been surprised she had made it there at all. The car was more rust than metal and parts of it were held together with baling wire. When he'd found out Natalie had driven it in that condition all the way from Colorado, he'd been ready to read her the riot act right then and there. It had been difficult, but he'd managed to refrain by telling himself that her days of taking those kinds of risks were coming to an end.

After they'd retrieved Natalie's few belongings from the trunk of the car, they'd hit the road to the bunker, stopping only to get food at a drive thru and for gas. It had been a twelve hour drive, with them arriving back at the bunker at seven that morning. John had had to shake Natalie awake to get her inside. He immediately put clean sheets on the bed in one of the spare rooms and had sent her to bed after showing her the location of the bathroom and the kitchen.

John grabbed a change of clothes and headed to the bathroom for a quick shower. Afterwards, he checked in on Natalie. She was starting to stir, so he knocked on the bedroom door to wake her up. "Grab a shower if you want, then come to the kitchen. We have things to talk about." He grinned to himself as he heard her groan as he left the room and closed the door behind him.

Twenty minutes later John was sipping his second cup of coffee and turning bacon in a cast iron skillet on the big industrial stove when Natalie entered the kitchen.

"Grab yourself some coffee if you want it. We might have some sugar somewhere, but we don't have any milk or creamer." John used the long meat fork in his right hand to point in the direction of the automatic coffee maker sitting on the small table near the door. It was one of the very few modern conveniences they had added to the bunker's kitchen over the years as none of them had had the patience to deal with the old fashioned percolator they had been using.

"That's okay," Natalie responded as she grabbed a thick white mug and filled it nearly to the brim. She took a careful sip and smiled in approval at the blend the Winchesters favored. "I take it black."

She took another sip of the coffee as she looked around the kitchen. It was unmistakably meant for the care and feeding of a large group of people. The walls were lined with metal floor to ceiling cabinets, and the refrigerator was the largest one she had ever seen, as was the stove where John was working. Everything was in good condition but had an unmistakable antique feel.

"How do you want your eggs," John asked as he transferred the last strips of bacon from the skillet to a plate lined with paper towels so it could drain.

She shrugged one shoulder. "However you're fixing yours is fine. I'm not picky."

"Scrambled it is, then," John commented as he began breaking eggs into a bowl. He picked up a fork and began beating them. "Why don't you grab a couple of plates from that cabinet," he indicated the one he meant with a tilt of his head, "and some silverware from the drawer beside the sink." He poured the egg mixture into a pan and turned to drop slices of bread into the toaster.

A short time later, they were finishing their breakfast when John said, "we're going to have to go into town for some supplies at some point this afternoon. The eggs and bacon were the only things in the refrigerator, and we finished those off. I guess the boys didn't do any restocking before they left on their hunt."

"They do that often?" Natalie really wasn't interested in the answer, but she had a feeling she wanted to keep John chatting about nonsense as long as possible.

"Sometimes," he responded nonchalantly. "It's hard to know how long we're going to be gone, and there's no reason to buy food only for it to go bad." He rose to his feet and began gathering the dirty dishes to take to the sink.

"Let me do that," Natalie stood. "You cooked, so I'll clean up."

John eyed her skeptically, wondering at her sudden cooperative attitude. "Be my guest," he said as he picked up his coffee mug and moved to refill it. "There's a dishwasher, so just rinse everything off and put it in there. Leave the iron skillet, I'll take care of it later." He resumed his seat and watched her work.

While she worked, he thought about their upcoming conversation. They were the only ones currently in the bunker, but he'd had a text from Sam waiting on his phone when he woke up saying that they were a few hours out from the bunker. The kind of conversation he anticipated having with Natalie was something that his sons didn't need to walk into the middle of.

"Young lady, it's time for us to talk," he said as Natalie sat back down at the table.

"It's been real," she said as she immediately rose to her feet. "Thanks for the ride and breakfast, but if you'll point me in the direction of the way out of this batcave, I'll take my leave."

John placed his mug on the table with a solid thump as he sat forward. "No," he said shortly. "You were in way over your head when I found you in Minnesota. We need to discuss to discuss that."

"No, we really don't," Natalie relied.

And there's the attitude he was expecting, he thought. "Yes, we really do. Now." He leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. "Your only choice is whether we do it here, where my sons can walk in at any time, or we can do this in your bedroom, where you will have some privacy.

"And if I refuse?" Natalie asked as she mimicked John's posture.

"I turn you over my knee right here, right now, and then you'll go to your room where we will have our more detailed discussion." John's voice was stern, clearly indicating that he expected to be obeyed.

"Okay, fine, whatever," She slapped her hand down on the table and rose to her feet. She stormed out of the room, and a few seconds later John heard the door to her bedroom slam.

XxxxxX XxxxxX XxxxxX XxxxxX

Fifteen minutes later, John knocked on Natalie's closed bedroom door and entered without waiting for an invitation. He moved across the room and pulled the straight backed chair away from the desk and turned it around to face the bed where Natalie was sitting against the headboard. "Tell me why I found you taking on a rugaru completely unprepared," he directed as he crossed his arms over his chest and gave Natalie a hard look.

"Is that what that creature was called?" Natalie asked, choosing to ignore his question. She refused to look away, meeting his glare with one of her own.

John narrowed his eyes and studied her for a moment, trying to decide if she had truly not known the supernatural creature she had been fighting or if she was trying to deflect his questions. He leaned forward and braced his elbows on his knees. "Young lady, it's completely in your hands how this goes. If you cooperate and answer my questions, things will be a lot easier for you than if you fight me."

Natalie couldn't help herself. "Why do you even care?" she asked.

"I care because I see a young woman who's full of potential and who was about to throw that all away. What I can't tell, though, is if you were acting out of carelessness or out of an intentional disregard for your safety. And, frankly, you have enough experience in the hunter's life to know that neither is acceptable." He sat back and watched the emotions that played across Natalie's features.

Natalie straightened from where she was leaning against the headboard of her bed and swung her legs around so that she was sitting on the side facing John. "And just who are you to decide what is or is not acceptable?" She stood then and crossed her arms over her chest.

John came to his feet. He stood over her for a moment, knowing just how intimidating his stance was. "I'm someone who cares." He gave the young woman sitting in front of him a moment to consider what he'd said. "Now, we can do this one of two ways. The easy way, where we sit down and talk about what was going through your head when you decided to take off after monsters you knew nothing about." He had intentionally pitched his voice in a more moderate tone, hoping to make that option sound appealing. "Or," he continued, "I assume you knew exactly what you were doing and didn't give any thought whatsoever to your safety." His voice took on a sterner edge, leaving no doubt as to his unspoken intentions.

Natalie rose to her feet to face John. Just who the hell did he think was? If her father had been here, she knew she'd already be wearing stripes on her backside from his belt. But this man towering over her had no authority over her. She straightened to her full height, which was still several inches shorter than John. "Option three - neither. I leave here and live my life the way I see fit, and you stay the hell out of it. I'm an adult, and I can do what I want."

John growled low in his throat and grasped Natalie by the upper arm. "That's not going to happen, young lady. You may legally be an adult, but you're acting like a selfish child who is only thinking of herself."

"Who else am I going to think of?" Natalie demanded as she tried to pull away from his grasp. "My parents are dead, and I don't have anyone else." She choked back a sob and silently cursed herself for showing that weakness.

John's heart broke for the young woman standing in front of him. He pulled her against him and wrapped her in his arms. "You aren't alone," he said softly. "You have more of an extended family than you realize." He drew back so he could look down into her eyes. "Every hunter who's worth their salt will consider you family. That includes Bobby Singer, as well as me and my boys. I care about what happens to you, and I'm not going to let you take unnecessary risks with your life." His voice had grown stern again by the time he finished what he had to say.

Natalie shook her head in denial of his statement. "You don't even know me. And as far as Bobby is concerned, if he cares so much about me, why won't he tell me what happened to my dad?"

John heard the pain and grief behind her question and knew from his own experience that the unanswered questions were the hardest ones to deal with. "Bobby did what he thought was best for you, as there aren't a lot of answers."

"What do you mean there aren't a lot of answers? Did that asshole tell you what happened?" Natalie demanded, growing angry at the thought that Bobby had shared information with this virtual stranger that he'd refused to give her.

John sighed and took a step back. "Sit," he ordered, gesturing to the bed behind her. "Now!" he ordered when she refused to move.

Natalie considered refusing, but the tone of John's voice told her that wouldn't be a very good idea. She plopped down on her bed and crossed her arms over her chest. "You gonna tell me or not?" She glared at John as he sat back down on the chair he'd recently vacated.

"First of all, young lady, mind your attitude and the way you speak to me. I won't tolerate it much longer." He met her glare with one of his own and held her gaze steady until she looked away.

"As I said, Bobby doesn't have a lot of information about what happened to your dad. He was contacted by another hunter named Conners, who said he was supposed to meet your dad at a cabin in Minnesota. When he got there, he found your father's dead body along with the corpses of a couple of werewolves." John paused and took a deep breath. He hated being the one to deliver this kind of news, but he agreed that Natalie had a right to know what had happened. "He told Bobby that it looked like your dad had been bitten a number of times and had taken his own life." He didn't want to tell her how he had done that, and he figured she didn't need to know the fine details. "Conners gave your dad a hunter's funeral."

Natalie simply nodded in acknowledgement of what John had said. "And why couldn't Bobby have told me that?" she demanded.

"By the time he tracked you down, he'd decided that you were better off not knowing those details." John watched as emotions played over her face. "Now, are you going to answer my original question? Why did I find you trying to take on a rugaru when you were totally unprepared?"

"Like you really care." Natalie couldn't help herself. She truly didn't understand how John Winchester could give a flying fuck about what she did. For all she knew, he was just using that as an excuse to get back at her for getting in the way of his hunt.

Her eyes widened, though, and she hurried to scoot back on the bed when John growled low in his throat and came to his feet. She tried to dodge his grasp when he reached for her, but she wasn't quick enough. He took hold of her upper arm and pulled her to her feet before taking her place on the side of the bed and pulling her over his lap.

"Alright, young lady, the hard way it is." He quickly subdued her struggles to get free by placing an arm across the small of her back and pinning her flailing legs with one of his own. "If I have to bust your ass to prove to you that I care, then that's exactly what I'm going to do." He began raining hard swats down onto her backside.

"You sonuvabitch! Let me go!" Natalie demanded as she continued to struggle to free herself using what little movement John's hold on her allowed.

"Watch your language," John admonished, dropping several swats onto the tops of her thighs. "I'm not going to tell you again." He resumed spanking her buttocks and sit spots without missing a beat.

Later, Natalie wouldn't be able to explain why she'd ever thought it had been a good idea, but she turned her head and bit down hard on John's leg. His reaction was immediate. "Let go!" he ordered as he held nothing back from the rapid fire swats he landed on her thighs. She gasped at the nearly overwhelming burning sensation building there and let the mouthful of denim loose.

John paused spanking her for a moment. "If you ever do something like that again, I will take my belt to your bare ass. Is that understood?" Natalie nodded, not trusting her voice. "I want to hear your response." He delivered two more hard swats to each thigh before resting his hand on the back of her right one.

"Yes," Natalie said through clinched teeth.

"Yes, what?" Two more swats fell.

"Yes, sir."

John sighed. He hadn't intended to be that harsh with her, but she hadn't left him any choice. "I care about you and your safety, Natalie. I wouldn't have dragged you back here with me if I didn't, and I certainly wouldn't have bothered trying to talk to you about what was going through your head." He landed a dozen or so swats to her sit spots. He heard her breath hitch about halfway through, and, by the time he finished, Natalie was lying limply across his lap.

Deciding he'd gotten his point across, he pulled her up to sit on his lap. She immediately turned her face into his chest and wrapped her arms around his waist. He held her and rocked her back and forth like a small child for several minutes before she pulled back. He reached out to tuck a loose strand of hair that had gotten stuck to her tear dampened cheek behind her ear. He nudged her to get up and sit beside him on the bed.

"I was serious when I said I care about you, Natalie." His voice was gentle, but it carried an unmistakably firm undertone. " I will do whatever is necessary to keep you safe, including tanning your hide again if needed. I also want to help you work through whatever is going on in your head that made you think that going on a hunt so unprepared was a good idea." He felt Natalie stiffen beside him and he gave her a slight grin that really did little to reassure her about his intentions.

"Relax, I'm not going to badger you any more about it for the moment." She relaxed slightly at his words. "Right now, I think you need some rest and some time to think. We'll pick up this conversation later. And, I'm warning you right now, young lady, that I'm going to want answers to my questions."

Natalie nodded. She'd deal with his questions when they came. At the moment, though, she was exhausted and her backside was on fire. She just wasn't up to dealing with anything more at the moment.

John seemed to realize that and rose to his feet. "Come on, let's get you tucked in so you can take a nap." He helped her to her feet, then turned down the covers on her bed. After she'd crawled back into bed and made herself comfortable, he pulled the covers over her and ran a hand down her hair. "Sleep well."

He flipped the overhead light off as he left the room. I need a drink, he thought as he scrubbed his hands over his face. A nap of his own didn't sound too bad, either. He sighed heavily as he headed toward the library and the small selection of alcoholic beverages they kept there.

XxxxxX XxxxxX XxxxxX XxxxxX

Sam made his way down the entry stairs into the war room and dropped his duffel on the map table. Dean followed closely behind.

"Dad's truck was in the garage," Dean commented, "so he's around here somewhere."

Sam stifled a yawn and stretched. They'd driven twenty hours straight from where they'd been dealing with a vamp nest to get there quickly. "I wonder what it was so important we had to haul ass here to discuss it."

Their eyes widened as the sound of a hard slap and a squeal followed by more rhythmic slapping and cries of pain could suddenly be heard from the corridor leading to the dormitory wing.

"What the hell was that?" Dean demanded, even though he already knew the answer.

Sam winced in sympathy at the sound of several rapid slaps in a row and the accompanying cries. He'd been on the receiving end of those kinds of swats enough times to know how they felt. "I don't know, but I'd hazard a guess it's a who Dad wants to talk to us about, and not a what. Makes you wonder, though, what they did to earn the wrath of John Winchester."