Hey all! Back with another chapter, I do apologize for the delays between. Life seems to have a way of catching you at the worst times! Enjoy. :)
You can't bring her back.
The words echoed in her head, over and over, fueling her anger, fueling her hatred, fueling her determination. Sam was right, of course, Emily knew that their father and mother had met the same fate hers had and even them, the greatest hunters alive, hadn't been able to save either of them. But it was different now. Ezreil had been ready to bargain with her, he'd been ready to cut a deal that would've saved her mom and reunited them again. If the boys hadn't interrupted, she would've been in prime position to negotiate. She stole a glance to the rearview mirror, rage burning in her eyes, and found Dean's matching her right back. He hadn't said anything about it. Sympathy had seemed to replace the initial anger he'd faced when they'd packed hurriedly afterward, but it was gone now. And still, he remained silent, even as he stared back at her evenly, a warning.
She didn't care.
The drive to the bunker was long, even longer given that they'd left around 3 am, but Emily refused to sleep. Refused to look away from the mirror, it was chilling almost if they hadn't both been so angry now. An hour in, Dean had finally opened his mouth to say something and that was when Castiel had chosen to appear, startling Emily out of her haze of red. Dean swerved slightly, just as thrown off guard, but he had seemed to master the surprise a little better than Emily had. "Cas!" Sam twisted around, his voice low, urgent. "What's the news?"
"There is no stir as of now," Castiel glanced to Emily, his eyes as soft and kind as Sam's, but so different. "He will return. His sights have been set now, Emily is not safe until we are able to bind him or rid of him for good. Ezreil is powerful, but he is young, and with that youth comes arrogance that will hinder him. He made mistakes this evening, he will make them again."
"But my mom," Emily choked out, her eyes unexpectedly welling up, the anger turning to anguish as Ezreil's words of degradation filled her head again.
"We are working on it, Emily," Castiel's voice was gentle, "we have been working on it. You must trust us. You were told to trust us. If you don't let us work, if you continue to get in the way, you prolong her suffering."
She flinched at the words, guilt pooled in her stomach. Castiel was not accusing, just straightforward, now he glanced to Dean as well. "Your anger is misplaced, Dean."
"The hell it is!" Dean exploded from the front, his grip on the steering wheel but the Angel didn't so much as blink at the outburst. He just leaned forward, lowering his voice enough that Emily had to strain to hear him.
"You must remember what your goal is, her safety was compromised tonight because you and Sam did not think to take her feelings into account, and she might have been lost, or worse, she might have tried to strike a bargain with Ezreil. I implore you to figure out a solution. Stay low. We will dig a little more and return once we have answers."
He disappeared as quickly as he'd come and Emily stared blankly at the spot he'd just moments ago been inhabiting, his words now turning over in her head. She had been ready to bargain with Ezreil. She'd been ready to do anything he'd ask of her to see her mom removed from the pit. What was she doing? Stupid. She closed her eyes for a moment, willing the words the demon had uttered from her mind. Ezreil knew her weaknesses, he had known that graphically explaining where her mother was would lower her defenses, he had known she would be willing to do whatever he asked. He was a demon. He had probably never encountered her mom, and she'd fallen right into his trap.
She glanced to Dean again, regret lacing her face now where rage had only been minutes before. Dean met her stare and his own softened, and he looked away, as if thinking deeply. A few hours later, the morning light was breaking over the horizon and the bunker was in their sights. The rest of the ride had been silent, and now, seeing the bunker, a feeling of relief made her feel like she could breathe again. How quickly this had been able to feel like home. They all got out of the car, Sam's eyes were lined with bags and he looked as relieved as Emily felt to be there too. "I'm going to make sure the defenses are all up and then I need to get a few more hours of sleep," he drew Emily into his chest, and she wrapped her arms around him, allowing him to hold her tightly. "We're all okay. That's what matters." He shot Dean a look before releasing Emily and heading into the house. Leaving them.
"Dean," Emily started to speak, suddenly feeling as tired as Sam had looked. The rage had burned through her and now she felt empty. Sad.
"Don't, Em," Dean interrupted her, looking down at the hood of his car. "I understand, okay? I get it. I'm not angry that you wanted to go after your mom. I understand why, hell, probably more than anyone else, I understand why." He gave a short laugh, before looking up and meeting her gaze evenly, his green eyes pooling with emotions she couldn't quite sort out. "But you knew it was stupid to go alone. I know that you have a lot of experience with Demons, but you don't have any experience with bargaining with them. He would've asked for your soul, or tricked you into making a deal with him you can't keep. That's what they do, Emily. I've bargained with them before to get back the people I love. It never ends how you think it will. You have to trust us. And you didn't."
Now hurt lined his face as his voice broke a little on the last word and Emily crumbled at it. "I know Dean. I wasn't thinking. He told me all these horrible things he did to her and all I could think about was saving her and keeping you as far out of it as I could."
"I can't lose you," his voice was thick as he stepped towards her again, sticking out a hand to pull her body into his. The smell of him overtook her as he hugged her, his face buried in her hair, his body was shaking slightly and it only took her a few moments to comprehend that he was crying. Dean Winchester was crying. Her whole defense broke, she moved her arms from his waist up to his shoulders, entangling her fingers into his hair and drawing him to her neck, where she let him remain for a few moments, her own eyes filling with tears as well. He hadn't been angry, he had been scared, she realized. Now there was nothing left but guilt, it overtook her wholly, and she pulled back, taking in his tear-stained face and how much he looked like a little boy when he was vulnerable like this.
"I'm sorry, Dean," her voice broke a little at the words, sincerity crawling over each syllabl. "I thought I could it alone. I didn't want to put you and Sam in danger."
The irony wasn't lost on either of them, but he allowed her to go on. "I wasn't thinking. I put us all in danger. And you were right. I was ready to make any bargain he asked for to get her back. I would have sold myself to him if it meant she wasn't stuck anymore." She was still holding onto him, his hair was soft on her fingers, his breath hot on her face, his body heat seeping into her own. How could she have been willing to risk him for an empty promise? "I was wrong. I was selfish. I put us in harm's way and I didn't care. I-I..." she stumbled over her words slightly, and she let go of him, her gaze lowering to the ground. "I deserve to be punished."
Dean didn't move, or speak, for what felt like an eternity. When she had finally lifted her gaze to meet his again, he'd rubbed the tears away and his face was a puzzle of pride and confusion.
"You do," he spoke finally, and he drew her in again, his arm wrapped tightly around her shoulder as he began leading them into the house. "But not now. We both need a few more hours of sleep, and first," he paused at the base of the door and turned her to face him again, leaning down. "I want you." Without hesitation, his lips met hers, the kiss deep, sensual, urgent. It seemed that vulnerability turned him on, or maybe it was the whole situation-the adrenaline-but whatever it was, she didn't protest. The release promised was too tempting.
She didn't know how long they made love, how long they slept, how much noise they made, if Sam could hear at all. When she finally awoke it was nearing noon. Next to her, Dean still slept, his hair tousled, bare chest rising and falling, so peaceful. She carefully peeled herself from the sheets and crept out of the room, closing the door behind herself quietly. She needed a shower and something to eat and coffee if there was any stocked. They'd been on the road for awhile, she was pretty sure there wasn't much in the cupboard. But first she took her time in the shower, the scent of Dean leaving her in a swirl of apple tinged soap. By the time she was out and dressed, Dean and Sam had also joined her in the kitchen. Sam had a list of supplies to get from the store and he'd given Dean a pointed look before he left the two of them alone.
"I don't want to drag this out," Dean set his coffee cup in the sink, dropping a kiss to her head as he passed by her, the motion so domestic and affectionate that it made her heart flutter softly. "You know you deserve to be punished, you know Sam and I agree. I want you to go to your room, lose the pants, and park your pretty nose in the corner." The flutters turned to palpitations and Dean watched as Emily swallowed hard, fully expecting her to throw a fit like she normally did. But after a moment's hesitation, Emily wordlessly stood up and left the room as instructed. Dean watched after her in amazement, before muttering "Well goddamn."
He didn't make her wait long, although it felt like a whole day had passed to Emily. She was right where he'd told her to be, face in the corner, hands at her sides. She had a white tank top on and nothing else, and he took a moment to rake his eyes over her long, tanned legs up to that perfect, heart shaped ass. He took a breath to steady himself, no matter how many times he saw her this way she still took his breath away. But now he had a job to do, one he didn't particularly enjoy, so he made his way across the room and sat down. Another deep breath and his low, gravelly voice echoed through the room. "C'mere sweetheart."
She turned, her face already stained with tears, lower lip pouted out, eyes down-turned and his resolve wavered again. But no, he had a job to do. She asked for this, she wanted him to do it. She had reached his side and he helped her over, lifting her hips to make her as comfortable as she could be in the situation. She didn't make any noise, didn't pull away, or protest like she usually did. It was pure submission, and his cock tightened painfully again. Damn, he needed to get this over with. "You know why you're here, Em. No one appreciates more then me what you were trying to do for your mom, but you put yourself in danger. You put us in danger. You know that Castiel won't always show up to save our asses."
The lecture wasn't long, it was straight to the point, and it didn't take long for him to begin the spanking, his hand rising and falling with very talking between. Submission flew out the window two minutes in, her ass had taken on a light pink hue and the sting had gotten to her. She began to kick, and a few squeals escaped her lips. Dean tightened his hand around her waist, pulling her a little more tightly to his hips, and the spanking resumed with a renewed intensity. She was crying softly but she had been doing that before the spanking even began so Dean was taking cues from her body language instead. "Please Dean, I'm so sorry!" Four more sharp smacks were the response and her legs kicked again, but he didn't stop, he didn't slow down. The protesting spurred him on, gave him the sharp reminders of why they were here, distracted him from wanting to fuck her again. It'd been a long time since he'd been vulnerable with anyone that wasn't Sam, and part of him wondered if he'd started to fall for her beyond the physical.
"I don't think so baby," he drawled, pausing for a moment to shake his hand out and then rub her sore butt for a moment. The pink had deepened into a more cherry red but he wasn't done yet. Another minute of spanking brought some true ugly sobs out of her and he stopped once more, but this time he didn't resume. The true test of contrition was about to come, and he wondered if she was ready, if she was truly repentant. He rested his hand on her ass again, rubbing the soft, hot skin. Her sobs died down into sniffles and once she was quiet, he spoke. "You're not quite done, sweetheart." He felt her body tense and she pushed up to look back at him, eyes red-rimmed and still swimming with tears. "I want you to go find your hairbrush and bring it back to me." She flinched hard and her face crumbled, and again Dean felt like he was making a mistake. You're not, pull it together. She needs this.
"Come on, Em," he patted her ass gently and she slowly, slowly pulled herself up, not quite believing her body was betraying her this way. The hairbrush. The worst of the worst. She hiccuped and reached back to rub her ass as she turned towards the bathroom and trudged towards it, as if she were walking to her doom. She didn't know why she wasn't fighting, but it just wasn't in her. Maybe it was because she was starting to develop some real feelings for the ruggedly handsome, brute of a man on the bed. Maybe it was because she had really fucked up. Maybe it was because she knew it'd be ten times worse if she didn't, but whatever the reason, she'd reached the hairbrush and found herself handing it over to him without even realizing she was doing it.