The ride home was, to say the least, tense. Dean was obviously trying to lighten the mood, he cracked jokes, tried to engage Sam in conversation, even turned on Sam's favorite station. It was odd, seeing him try to go to bat for her, and Emily would've felt flattered, or relieved even, if it hadn't been her ass on the line, literally. But it didn't work. Sam had been on the phone when they'd returned to the car, letting Cynthia-Cyndi that it was safe for her parents to return to their home and to call anytime there were any other problems. When Emily had buckled up and tried desperately to shift the weight off of her sore ass, Sam had given her a hard glance in the rearview mirror, the bloodied rag pressed to his head a little tighter, and it made her stop in her tracks. He was pissed. She didn't think she'd ever seen Sam honest to god angry, and it was unsettling. She quit fidgeting, wisely choosing to keep her mouth shut on the ten minute drive back to the B&B, and even Dean eventually saw his attempts at peace weren't working and he stopped talking too, glancing to the miserable girl in the rearview mirror with a shrug and apologetic expression.
"Why don't you take Emily to get food," Sam finally spoke when they'd pulled up to the small farm-style house. "Bring me back something, I don't really care what. I need to calm down, and take care of this," he gestured to his head, not lost at all on Emily, "before I take care of that."
Emily pouted, feeling about ten years old, but she didn't argue. Was there a point? She didn't even know that Sam would spank her again, he hadn't since that day months ago on their first hunt together, but then again, Emily hadn't done anything to truly offend him since that time. Dean was the hard head, he was the one who jumped straight to violence every time, Sam wasn't that way. She'd learned from spending so much time with him that he struggled with the side of him that wanted to give into his Demon tendencies, he did everything in his power to stay passive, to be gentle and loving, what his true personality was if there hadn't been this dark cloud above him all the time. Pushing Sam this way had clearly crossed a boundary that Emily hadn't counted on. The harmless "prank" she'd pulled hadn't been so harmless after all. But no one argued with Sam now, not even Dean, who seemed to be grappling just as hard as Emily was. So they watched him retreat into the building and Dean sat for a second, his hands on the steering wheel while Emily slid up into the front seat and winced.
"I really pissed him off," she remarked quietly, obviously. Dean's hands tightened a little on the steering wheel and he gave a low grunt in response, before he pulled out and drove them back toward the center of the town to find somewhere to eat.
"Yeah, Em, you did." It wasn't mean, it was fact. He sighed and Emily turned her body slightly to face him, ever aware of the twinges of pain when she did so. "Sam isn't easy to piss off, either, so I guess congratulations on that? I wish I could say that you didn't deserve to be punished by the both of us, but I can't. You chose to drag him into your little scheme, whatever that was, and Sam hates, more then anything else, to be betrayed by someone he loves."
Emily cringed at the word, somehow it stung her heart more then anything else had before, even Dean's not so subtle dismissal of their relationship hadn't hurt that bad. But she knew that Dean wasn't angry at her, and she knew, deep down, that she absolutely did deserve whatever happened when they returned. It didn't make it any easier to accept, especially when she could still feel the deep seated ache from Dean's spanking, but at least it was deserved. There was no arguing it. "I'm scared," she admitted quietly, when they had found themselves seated at a little Italian restaurant that was surprisingly crowded for a week night. "Sam's never been mad at me before, not like this." She ran her finger around the rim of her wine glass, definitely feeling like she'd need a few of these to make it through the rest of the night.
Dean shrugged at her, sipping at his own beer as he did so. "I don't know what to tell you kid," his gaze was troubled, despite his words. "It's only fair." They were silent for a few minutes after that, Emily had finished her wine in two gulps and had been about to order another when Dean stopped her. "I don't think so," she opened her mouth to argue, anger flaring at the order, but Dean cut her off, "you don't need another one. You going back to Sam all liquored up is going to make things much, much worse. Trust me. Order a coke and pace yourself." She hardly counted two glasses of wine as being "liquored up," but she heeded the advice. Truth be told, her stomach was tying itself into knots now and a second glass wasn't going to help her feel any less sick.
"Does Sam know?" She finally broached the subject once their entree's had arrived, Sam's dinner neatly boxed and bagged at the end of the table while they ate. "About what happened...between us." She blushed, ducking her head to hide it. Dean grinned at that, clearly a little proud of the effect he was having.
"No," he finally gave her, grinning devilishly. "I didn't tell him. Unless Cas did, but I don't think he's the type to go around telling secrets."
Secrets. The word was so juvenile, it just made the whole situation even more embarrassing.
"Sam's a big kid," he went on, ignoring the very pointed look he was receiving from his beautiful companion. "It's not that he couldn't handle it, it's more that he just doesn't really need to know. If we were making this...a thing, maybe," it was clear that talking about relationships was not Dean's forte, he stammered over most of his words. "But since it's not," he shrugged and she felt her anger flare a little again.
"Well that's pretty fucking obvious, judging how you seem to have a woman in every town we pass by," her voice was low as she shot him a dark glance, then went back to her pasta, twirling the noodles casually around her fork, even as Dean put his down to glare at her quietly. "I'm not trying to compete with every Midwest Miss Cornbread Cherry Pie." The words were bitter and they made Dean's frown deepen.
"No one said you had to compete with anyone," he shot back. "You're the one who didn't give me any inkling you wanted to turn this into something more. I'm supposed to just sit around waiting for you?" The conversation was taking a turn that Emily didn't want to add on top of what she was already facing back home and she sighed, setting down her fork to look at Dean fully.
"I'm not saying that, Dean," she forced her voice back to the lightness she used on most men, "I don't know what I want. And I don't think you do either."
"Is that why you pulled that shit back at the farmhouse?" Dean was unmoved by her words, and Emily couldn't stop the blush creep up her neck at his observation. "Shit, it is, isn't it? You were jealous because I was flirting with Cleo."
Cleo, that's what it was.
"Maybe I was." She met his eyes firmly, daring him to try to humiliate her any further. "But this is a two way street, Dean. You didn't talk to me either."
"I don't feel bad about that now," he chuckled, his face still clouded in darkness. "Here I was, feeling all sorry for you, feeling bad that I jumped the gun and whooped you when I didn't have all the information, feeling jealous that Sammy was gonna be looking at that perfect little ass too, and all along this could've been avoided if you'd just knocked on the door and told me what you were feeling. Instead, you got jealous and your revenge was to try to let a poltergeist take us out? You deserved what you got, and you deserve what Sam's gonna give you, and then we need to put this to bed now. What you did was stupid, and more then that, it was childish. You know better."
Emily's food was turning to lead in her stomach, hearing exactly what she'd been thinking coming out of his mouth was hard, and embarrassing. The whole thing was so juvenile, and she couldn't believe she'd let herself fall into that trap of pettiness.
"I think we're done," Dean set his fork down and waved the waitress over, throwing a few bills to the table to let her know they were finished. Emily didn't speak again, she didn't make eye contact, she just stared out the window in misery, her stomach aching, her heart heavy. She'd fucked up, big time. Dean may forgive her eventually, but was this what she wanted? To be this toxic person. To be this messy? She was regretting everything now, sleeping with Dean, letting her develop feelings for the handsome brother, letting herself get close to the both of them. This is the only thing it ended in; heartache.
She barely felt herself walk into the B&B and make her way up the stairs to her room, one of two in the house. The boys were sharing the one across the hall, the owner lived off the property, and everything was silent when they returned. Emily went into her room with no further conversation, shutting the door quietly behind her as Dean went into the room across the hall. She could hear them talking, low and muffled, impossible to make out but she was sure it was all about her. About her mistakes. Emily went to the bathroom, taking her time using the facilities, showering, looking over the remnants of the spanking, changing into a pair of silky sleep shorts and matching top. She had stashed her hairbrush away, cringing at the feel of it in her hand, and then she climbed into bed, listening again for any sign of the brothers. There was none. She couldn't hear them talking anymore, but still Sam hadn't come in. Her eyes felt heavy, but her heart was beating so fast that she couldn't sleep, not knowing what was going to happen. She didn't know how long she lay there, she didn't dare move or look at her phone, and finally when she felt like she couldn't take anymore, there was a soft knock on the door and it opened.
She turned over on her side and sat up, eyes still feeling slightly blurry as she took in Sam's tall form. He had showered too, she could smell the soap and aftershave in the air, and he was wearing a pair of flannel pajama bottoms and a form fitting tee shirt, his muscled arms foreboding and crossed over his chest. He didn't speak at first, he just stepped into the room and quietly shut the door behind him before turning to survey the contrite girl sitting in front of him, there was a few butterfly bandages holding the gash on his forehead closed and a pang of guilt hit her again. His expression was unreadable, and Emily felt her cheeks heating already at the tension, but Sam didn't speak yet as he made his way to the bed and sat down next to her. Emily moved her legs to sit on top of the bedspread, clasping her hands in her lap, her head down, heart pounding. She could smell the anger on him, she could almost taste it, though much less pronounced from before. There was another moment of silence then she opened her mouth and offered a small, "I'm sorry Sam."
"I know." His voice was different from the gentleness she was so used to, and she cringed again. "But it doesn't change how angry I am, Em. It doesn't change how badly that whole thing could've turned out. I hate surprises, Emily, that's why I do research, so I'm always prepared. Being caught off-guard is my biggest pet peeve. What's worse," he angled his body to face hers and took her hands into his, the pulse of his heartbeat, the tension, the anger all easily read through the grip, "is that you did this because you were jealous. Dean told me, he told me what happened. He didn't want to," Sam breathed out then, "but to be honest, I was really having a hard time wrapping my head around why you were trying to get us killed otherwise. I should've suspected it, but I really didn't." Another surprise, Sam was being inundated with them and he repeated, "I hate surprises."
Emily wasn't sure what to say. He wasn't releasing her hands so she looked down at them, how big his were against hers, the calloused knuckles, the small scrapes and bruises from various jobs. She had never felt so small before, the boys seemed to have that effect on people. She went from a grown woman of 21 to a child of 6 in an instant. "I know Sam." She said softly, bringing her thumb to brush against his fingers, still unable to meet his gaze. "It was so stupid. All of it. Sleeping with Dean, getting jealous of that stupid bimbo, putting you in danger because I was mad. It was so stupid. I really am sorry. I didn't think about what I was doing to you, that I was putting you in danger too. You didn't deserve it, you didn't do anything," her heart hurt so much as the words came out, she was already almost in tears as she finally lifted her head to meet his eyes. "I want things to be okay between us again. I-I...I deserve to be punished."
It was the hardest sentence she had ever said in her life and the tears spilled over when she finished, making her lower her head. She brought her free hand up to wipe them away and Sam let go of her hand, catching her chin gently to tilt her face up to his. His eyes had softened and he gave her the smallest smile, using the pad of his own thumb to brush a stray tear from her cheek. "I'm proud of you," he said quietly, and Emily thought she was going to crumple at the words. "You were honest, which isn't easy. What you did wasn't okay, but you know that. You're an adult, Emily, not a kid. I know that Dean is really hard to be around, I know that he's difficult, and I know that you're struggling with what you've been thrown into. Let's get this over with, okay? Wipe the slate clean, fresh start."
He let go of her chin and shifted his body back a little so that he was sitting farther back on the back. Emily didn't argue. She didn't fight. She gave a small sniffle and crawled across his lap, her body stretched over the bed, and weirdly, so very weirdly, she felt at peace. Sam sensed it, he could feel the calm that spread across the room as she accepted her fate, and his heart swelled again. This was so unlike the hellcat they'd picked up all that time ago, fighting them tooth and nail on everything, no this was a girl who'd found her purpose and found her family. This was a girl who was finally coming into her own. He adjusted her slightly, reminding himself that no matter how much he felt the air had been cleared, there was still the task at hand. More then he needed it to move past the incident, Emily needed it more.
He didn't waste any time, he tugged down her shorts and felt his heart tighten again at the sight of her already punished backside, still a light pink hue peppered with some darker pink splotches where Dean had clearly caught her hard with the spoon. It wasn't nearly as bad as he'd expected though, knowing how angry Dean had been when he'd gotten to her, and even though this was going to be no walk in the park for her, at least there wasn't a risk he was going to actually hurt her. He sighed, rubbing his hand across her skin gently, feeling her body heat slightly in response. He couldn't deny how seeing her like this made him feel, how enticing the scent of her was to him, it made it difficult to concentrate sometimes, although he'd done his very best to always hide that side of him, to never let her on to the effect she had on him. He willed his blood to still, he willed the swell of his cock to return to limp, and he raised his hand to begin.
The first smack was a jolt, and she cried out, unprepared for just how badly the spanking hurt on her already tender skin. It was immediate pain, immediate fire, and she almost moaned from the misery. But Sam was such a different spanker from Dean, he didn't stop, he didn't let anything sink in, he let the first spank fly and then he stayed in his pattern. The sound of hard smacks against soft skin filled the room, and she didn't bother to try to control her tears, or her legs. She cried and kicked unashamedly, not caring that Sam could easily see her nether regions, the pain was so intense and unyielding that there was no room in her mind for anything else. Fight or flight had kicked in, five slaps to one cheek, five slaps to the other, five slaps to her sit spots, five slaps to her thighs, and then the pattern repeated. She tried to check herself, to get into her mind where he was in his pattern, to count if only to take her mind off the overwhelming burn. Sam grunted at a particularly hard kick, and he paused, letting her catch her breath through her sobs, surveying her flaming red rear critically. It hadn't taken hardly anything to get the color, and he could feel her lament as she cried into her pillow. "Scoot up a little," he checked himself, shaking his head to clear the feeling of distress at her obvious pain. It took her a moment to comply, so he helped her, his large hands encircling her waist to pull her forehead so her pert little butt was perched on one thigh and he could move his free leg over the back of her knees and pin them there. Emily cried harder at the movement, knowing it meant he wasn't done, knowing that her pain was far from over. I deserve this, I deserve this, I deserve this. She repeated over and over again, feeling him shift and raise his hand once more.
The spanking lasted overall less than five minutes, he'd repeated his pattern maybe ten times by the time she had sobbed herself dry into the pillow and was just struggling to breathe now. Her ass was a dark, shining red, swollen and hot to the touch, and under any other circumstance, this wouldn't have been even a warm up spanking for her, but given the events of earlier, it was more then enough to turn her into a contrite, sniffling little girl. Sam gave her a few moments, gently soothing his hand over her flaming cheeks until her sobbing had subsided and he felt her relax. Carefully, he helped her to her knees between his own and drew her into his arms, neither of them speaking as he held her. It had been hard for both of them to get through, his dick was throbbing with want, it had been impossible not to take in the sight of her pink little pussy as she'd been doing all that kicking and squirming, and now that he was holding her, it was even harder to control himself. He wanted to throw her down and ravage her, the demon blood screaming in his veins to take it, to take her, but he resisted. It wasn't right, not after he saw the way Dean looked at her, not after knowing they'd had sex. That thought immediately dampened his mood and he pulled her back again, gently wiping her tears away as he rearranged his face into a picture of forgiveness. "It's over," he told her softly, pulling her shorts back over her hips and guiding her to lay down. He climbed over her to get off the bed, and surveyed her again, she was still shaking slightly, but her eyes were so heavy that he knew she'd pass out the second he turned the light off. The pang of want hit him again and he shoved it down, leaning down to kiss her temple. "You're forgiven."
And with no further words, she did exactly as he'd predicted and fell asleep.