Alone in the kitchen downstairs, Emily had a moment alone to catch her breath and think about what had just happened. What she'd just done.

Fuck, what did I just do?

The weight of her bad decision weighed heavily now, and it seemed just so, so stupid. What if they had gotten really hurt? What if the spirit had disappeared and the job was ruined? And Sam, Sam hadn't deserved that. When had she gone from a girl who didn't care about anyone or anything, who used and discarded boys like they were nothing, who never got attached, to this? To this jealous, spoiled thing that didn't resemble her at all. She was embarrassed, she realized. Her behavior had been embarrassing, and worst of all, Dean had given her an opportunity to tell him how she felt and she hadn't taken it. It wasn't his fault that she had made no moves again, that she'd given no inkling of anything being between them. "Fuck," she mumbled into her hand, leaning against the counter and closing her eyes, trying to slow her breathing down and organize her thoughts.

"Fuck is right."

Startled, Emily whirled around to find Dean, angrier then she'd seen him in a long time, standing at the door of the kitchen, the dim lighting pooling at his feet ominously. His arms were crossed, he'd obviously tried to wipe the blood from his mouth away because it was smeared over his chin in a way that was somehow hot AND crazy looking, he was breathing as hard as she had been only moments ago, but Emily knew it wasn't because he was tired, it was because he was trying to get his anger under control.

"Dean, look, let me explain-" her voice was desperate as she pushed off the counter to take a few steps toward him, and to her surprise, he didn't reach out and grab her.

"Then explain," his voice was a low, deep growl, his stance tense and tight, unmoving. Emily blinked, caught off guard by his response. She opened her mouth again, but words didn't come out, her thoughts had re-tangled into a mess of emotion and he helped her out by holding a hand up with one long finger extended. "No, don't explain it. Don't explain to me why you had the genius idea to spring a poltergeist trap on Sam and I with no warning. Don't explain why you've been stomping around like a little bitch on her rag for the past two weeks. Don't explain why you've barely spoken three words to me that haven't pertained to a hunt. Don't explain anything, Emily, because nothing you say is gonna save your ass from the whuppin' I'm about to give it."

He stepped into the kitchen fully, and the light moved behind him, and Emily was once again reminded of the sheer size of him, how tall and broad he was, he overwhelmed her. She stepped back in the same time he stalked forward, feeling very much like prey, and she grasped for words to calm him down, to make things better, to right the wrong.

"Dean, I-I didn't mean for you to get...I shouldn't have done that, Dean, I'm so sorry, I'm sorry!" Her voice was a mere squeak, so high and breathy and desperate that it made him stop for a second and fix her in his gaze fully. Clearly, he was not expecting an apology, much less one that came this early on.

"You're sorry you're about to get spanked, Em, you're not sorry for what you did," his expression hardened and she swallowed hard, her own back finding the counter edge, nowhere left to go. He broke eye contact to look around the kitchen, and his gaze fixed on something behind her, and Emily dared to glance behind herself to see what it was, gulping as she realized what he was so intent on. A cannister of cooking utensils was sitting there on the counter, so mundane and unassuming to the normal eye, yet Emily knew right away what he was going for. A long, thick wooden spoon poked up from the center, and as quickly as she had spotted it, Dean had reached her, trapping her against the counter as he reached behind her shoulder to pluck it from it's place. "This'll do the trick, I think."

"Dean," Emily tried again, her hands coming to his chest in a last ditch effort for clemency. He looked down, his green eyes still hard, the blood beginning to dry beneath his nose and chin that gave him an even fiercer look then he normally had. "I'm really sorry."

His gaze softened, so minutely that she would've missed it if she hadn't been so attuned to his moods by now. "I know you are, but it doesn't make what you did right. And you're not forgiven until you've atoned." The line was so Cas and so very unlike his normal vocabulary that it would've almost been comical if he hadn't still been wielding the giant spoon in his grasp. With that hanging in the air between them, he brought his free hand up to her wrist, her hand still flattened on his hard chest, and tugged it down, turning to pull her towards the table in the center of the room, where he expertly kicked a wooden chair out from it's spot and sat, pulling her to his side all in one swift movement.

He dropped the spoon onto the table and then turned his full attention to the girl beside him, his hand still wrapped around her wrist, although this time she wasn't fighting him. That wasn't lost on him, he could see as he stared into her face that she felt genuinely bad about what she'd done, but it didn't change anything. He sighed, dropping her wrist so he could hook his thumb into the waistband of her leggings and tug them down her slim hips. She didn't move, and she didn't make eye contact any longer, her cheeks taking on the pretty blush they always did when she was in this position. He was guiding her over his lap when Sam entered the kitchen, still holding a rag to his head wound, looking slightly dazed and worse for the wear. Emily bit her lip as she looked to him, blushing even deeper red at him seeing her like this, despite that he'd put her in this exact scenario before. It didn't get easier.

"Dean's got every right to do this," Sam's voice was gentle, but there was a definite edge beneath it as Emily gave a small sniffle and looked down at the floor, humiliated. "And when we get back to the bed and breakfast, we'll be having our own discussion. Understood?" Emily didn't speak for a moment until Dean gave her right thigh a hard, warning tap.

"Yes sir," she ground out between clenched teeth, unable to fathom that this was going to cost her two spankings in one day. Was it worth it? Absolutely not. It never was.

"Good, I'm gonna make sure everything is clear here and then I'll be in the car." Emily didn't watch him leave, she had buried her face back into her hands and tried shifting slightly, the pressure of Dean's knees digging into her ribcage and pelvis making it impossible to get comfortable. Which she knew was the point.

Sensing that they were alone, she listened as Dean started up his usual lecture, his voice still sharp and low as he began the spanking on her panty-clad rear. The smacks were crisp and measured, he didn't let up or pause for a full minute, during which Emily managed to keep still and only whimper as the familiar slow heat crept into her nether regions. "Putting us in danger will always end in this position, Emily Sarah Parker. You can be as pissed off as you want, but this ain't acceptable."

He had paused at that point to pull her underwear down, bracing himself for the sight of her glorious ass the same as he always had to do. It never failed to impress him how beautiful she was, now was no exception, even after being beat to hell by the angry spirit, he could still appreciate a beautiful butt when he saw one. The spanking resumed, Emily's little sounds getting louder and more frantic as the spanking began to sink in and really burn. It had been awhile, the pain had faded in her memory, now it was the forefront, and she couldn't stop herself from wiggling a bit, crossing her ankles back and forth as if it would somehow lessen the pain, which of course it didn't. She bit down on her lip and groaned as she tasted blood, her hands coming down to rest flat on the floor and try to steady herself. Dean could feel the shift in the room and he upped the spanking, faster and harder now, another minute back and forth until a steady red glow began to shine through. He knew he needed to pace himself, although he and Sam hadn't talked about it, the steady threat that Sam would be getting his own pound of flesh from her hung in the back of his mind, and the male part of him flared at the idea of his brother touching her like he was. It was, of course, fair. But it didn't make it any easier to stomach.

Emily's cries were becoming more frequent and Dean stopped again, running his calloused hand gently over her very warm cheeks, letting her calm down a little so he could finish up. She deserves this, he reminded himself firmly, patting her butt gently to let her know that she needed to ready herself. "This is really disappointing, Em," his gravelly voice entered her head again, and she sniffed, bringing one of her hands to wipe the snot from her nose and brace herself again. She knew what was coming, and so did he. "Give me your hand," he ordered her firmly, reaching behind himself to grab the spoon, waiting for her to comply. She was confused, but obeyed him, her arm shaking slightly as she did. He threaded his fingers through hers and brought their entwined hands to rest on her lower back, and his voice softened again as he tapped the heavy wood against her flaming behind. "I don't want you to reach back while I spank you, if I get your hand with this, it'd really hurt," his voice was soft again and he even chuckled a little as if a memory had reached him, "trust me, I know from experience. My old bitch of a babysitter wielded one of these often." If she hadn't been so miserable, she might've laughed too, but none of what he said made her feel better. She sniffled again, and he squeezed her hand assuredly. "Do you deserve this spanking sweetheart?"

It never got easier to answer that question, it never got easier to try to talk while she was in a position like this. It was never less humiliating or less of a shock. "Y-yes sir," she mumbled, her face blushing deep red again. She felt him lift the spoon and she tried to breathe through it as it began to fall, quick as lightning, striking over and over and over, barely allowing her to catch her breath. Every time he used something on her, every new instrument of torture, it was always a different pain, one she couldn't get used to. The spoon was no different. It was hard and unyielding, it was a concentrated pain in one small little circle, it almost felt itchy if it hadn't burned so much. She couldn't hold the tears in as he kept on spanking, she lost count quickly and surrendered into the pain of it, kicking and squirming as the spoon continued to flash up and down with loud, pronounced SPLATS. She didn't know how long he spanked her for, it wasn't as bad as it had been the night in the hotel, but it certainly was no walk in the park, and she knew that he was going a little easy because Sam was going to be spanking her again. Just the thought of another spanking on her flaming rear made her sob harder, and she begged and begged for him to stop until her voice was hoarse and the snot was flowing freely to the floor. That was when Dean let up, tossing the spoon back to the table to give her a second to embrace the pain and get the last of her tears out. When she had finally relaxed, he gently helped her back to her feet and pulled her underwear and leggings back up over her hips to retain her dignity. She was a mess, but he always thought she just looked so pretty when she was crying like this. So innocent. So unlike herself.

"Shh shh," he soothed, standing up to give her a comforting hug. He rubbed her back softly, and she hiccupped a few times before she pulled herself away to look up at him. Her bottom lip was jutted out slightly, her face still pink and stained with tears, and all he wanted to do was lean down and kiss her, to bite that perfect little pout and listen to her moan. But he didn't. She reached back and rubbed her throbbing ass with one hand, the other swiping at her eyes. "It's done. Whatever you were thinking, whatever I did that made you mad enough to think that was a good idea, it's over."

"I know." She bit her lip again, worrying the skin between her teeth as she thought of what to say. "It wasn't a good idea, and I'm sorry. I...I was just mad. I'm really sorry, Dean, I really am."

She was like a small child seeking approval from her parents, and his heart tugged a little at the sound of it. He didn't push her, both of them were spent and it wasn't going to be long before she found herself in this position again, he was fairly certain that round two with Sam would be getting her talking, if nothing else did. "It's okay," he offered, giving her a smile and pulling her back to wrap his arm around her small shoulders and lead her towards the door. "It's over, right? Slate clean. New start. Let's get out of here."

Annnnnd the end of this chapter. Two spankings in a night? Emily is really in for it. Let me know what you think!