"What the FUCK were you thinking?"

It hadn't been her most sophisticated plan, in fact, she'd come up with it while watching an old re-run of Full House, the classic "stuff your bed so it looks like you're asleep while you sneak out" gimmick that every 90's sitcom added into their trope, but which had been remarkably easy to pull off once she'd set her mind to it. Stuffing her bed had been the easiest, she'd even added a hoodie over a pillow so it looked like she was pouting in her bed, propped a book up to make it look like she'd been reading, and then from there, it was a matter of lying in wait. As soon as the boys were in the library to finish stocking up and getting Sam's laptop charged, she'd grabbed her small backpack with supplies and a blanket and settled into the floorboards of the Impala, curled up into a ball with the blanket strategically wrapped around her. Apparently the Hunter's weren't expecting it, hadn't checked on her, and weren't in a habit of checking their backseat, because nothing happened. They loaded the trunk, slammed it shut, got inside, and were off.

The ride was mostly quiet, the boys talked about the hunt and their theories on what might be terrorizing the small town they were headed to. Several times, Sam tried to broach the subject of Emily and Dean had coolly cut him off and changed the subject. Emily kept her breathing even and slow, listening intently for any signs of being found out. But she wasn't. They'd made it the whole two hour drive away to the town, the boys had pulled into a restaurant first to eat, and Emily had stayed hidden. When they'd arrived at the town's hospital, she waited until they were out to emerge and change in the backseat into her "FBI uniform" knowing that's what the boys were going with. She was a good fifteen minutes behind them, but she knew where they were going, and she also knew that they wouldn't give up their ruse to call her out. As she strolled up to the hospital, she couldn't stop the small prickle of fear that ran up the back of her neck at the thought of Ezreil being out there, watching her, waiting, waiting for an opportunity just like the one she was giving him. Stupid, stupid, stupid. The voice in the back of her mind said, which she brushed away. She picked up her pace and in no time, she'd found herself downstairs in the Morgue with two very angry Winchester's, one oblivious pathologist, and three dead bodies sans heads.

"I don't know," she shrugged at Dean, arms crossed, hip cocked, picking at her cuticles with one hand as if she hadn't a care in the world.

The drive back had been horrible. Sam did most of the yelling, surprisingly, apparently he felt very personally offended that he'd been vouching for her and she'd betrayed him. She tried to tune him out, tried to stay stoic, but it was hard. She felt guilty. And worried. But she couldn't let them know that, not after a successful hunt and a successful personal mission in which Dean was finally talking to her, albeit screaming.

"You don't know?" Dean's eyes looked like they were going to bug out of his head, Sam's face had turned a very deep red, and Emily couldn't help it. She snorted.

There was no time to react, one second she'd been standing there, still wearing the tasteful black skirt and white blouse of a fake FBI agent, the next moment Dean had her arm in a vice grip and was propelling her not at all gently in the direction of her bedroom, his hand finding her ass over and over again on the way. He paused in the doorway once they'd reached it, taking in the fake setup in her bed and this time it was him who snorted, before shoving her in front of him so she was trapped in the room. Just like she'd envisioned. Even with the inevitably horrible spanking looming in her future, she knew this would work. She knew he'd be the one to flip. She knew he'd be the one to react first. It's going to be worth it.

"Dean," she turned around, her hand going to her backside to rub out the sting he'd garnered in the small amount of time it'd taken them to get here. "Listen-"

"Listen?" Dean snorted again and once more he was on her, his hands roughly groping her hips as he searched for the zipper he knew would be there. "To what? More lies? I'm sick of this shit, Emily! You're acting like a fucking child!"

Emily ripped herself away from him, anger bubbling up now as they stared each other down. "I'M acting like a child? You've been giving me the silent treatment for DAYS Dean! I had to do something to force you to talk to me! You've been avoiding me ever since that night, and it's been making me sick!" Her voice carried across the room and the flinch of Dean's expression wasn't lost on her even as his hands balled up at his sides. "I knew if I followed you guys there, you'd flip your shit, I knew this would get to you, so let's hear it! Have it out with me. Tell me how horrible I am, tell me how I'll never be as good as Lisa..." she trailed off, tears prickling in her eyes as she said the words out loud. "Leave me like everyone else does. I'm too much of a liability for you, and we both know it."

"Shut up." Dean's voice was deadly quiet as he returned his gaze to hers, his eyes burning holes into her eyes as he slowly stalked towards her, making her back into the wall. "Just shut up, Emily. You make me fucking crazy!" They'd hit the wall now, and Dean's palms came up to trap her between his chest and the solid wood behind her. "It scares me how much I feel for you, and when you said that stuff about Lisa and Ben, it reminded me why I shouldn't feel like this, it reminded me of what I put them through, what I put everyone who comes into my life through. I wasn't avoiding you because I hate you or I'm mad at you, I was avoiding you because I can't keep doing this to the people I love."

Her mouth dropped a little, her eyes snapping up to his at the words. "You love me?"

"Of course I do, Emily, isn't it obvious?" His lips found hers, and she melted around him, their tongues entwining as he dropped his arms around her waist to pull her tightly into him. She was so lost in the moment, in the kiss, in the words he'd just said, that she didn't even feel him tugging her skirt down at first until she broke away and it was in a pool at her feet. Dean's eyes stayed on hers, and he brought up the pad of his thumb to her cheek, stroking it gently as he smiled at her. She smiled back, reassured, her mind drifting to lovemaking, even as his hand dropped to her arm and his fingers wrapped around her again. "And I think now that we've made it pretty clear what my feelings are and what my intentions are, that I start reminding you of who's in charge and why you're supposed to obey my orders."

"W-what? Dean, wait! But you just-"

"I just told you I love you. And sweetheart, you deserve this spanking more then you've probably ever deserved one before," he chuckled a little as he lead the still stunned girl over to her bed, shoving the makeshift "Emily" out of the way so he could sit, pulling her to stand between his knees. "If you'd given me a chance to come to you, we'd probably be doing a lot more pleasant things right now. But instead you acted on your impulses, which unfortunately for you darlin', aren't great. You pissed Sam off, you pissed me off, and worse, you could've given away our location. I want nothing more then to bend you over this bed and make you mine over and over again, but you chose violence. So violence you get."

Unceremoniously she found herself tipped over his knee, her upper body meeting the mattress while he deftly swept his other leg over hers to pin her down. "Dean!" She squealed, reaching back instinctively to cover her vulnerable butt, but he was quicker and he grabbed her wrist gently, pinning it to the small of her back.

"No, Em," he said quietly, his hand rubbing over her cheeks gently. She was wearing a thong, so there was no protection, no layers, and she felt her face heat up again. No matter how many times he'd seen her ass, it still embarrassed her to no end being in this position. "You know how I work, you know how I operate. I don't go around spanking every woman in life, but you're one of us, regardless of our relationship, and you'll continue to be punished when you act out in ways that put your life in danger."

Emily sniffled, feeling thoroughly chastised before he'd even started in on her. "Did you ever spank her?" She managed to get the words out, even when she felt his stomach contract against her hips as he sucked in a breath. There was a long, quiet moment between them, Dean's hand still on her bare flesh.

"No," he finally said, his voice laced with a twinge of sadness. "I didn't. We didn't have this kind of life together. And she wasn't in a habit of putting herself in danger," he gave her a little pinch and she pouted in spite of herself. "But mostly, Emily, I wasn't ever really myself around Lisa. I was a different person. I was who she needed me to be, for her and for her son. You've got me in all my pig-headed glory, as Sam likes to put it."

She felt his hand move, the time for talking had clearly ended and she braced herself, burying her face into the soft blanket to steady her breathing. Dean squeezed her wrist reassuringly and then it started, his hand falling swiftly onto her upturned cheeks, making quick work of her warm-up. They weren't particularly hard swats, but they were enough to get her feet drumming as the heat built up and the familiar sting began to form. Dean always moved in stages, the warm up first, then the "second round" as she liked to call it, when he picked his pace up and kept on a steady incline until she was begging him to stop. Just as predicted, the spanks began to fall harder, one after the other, covering her whole bottom down to the back of her thighs and then it began again. He liked to keep the pattern varied so she couldn't anticipate it, two swats to her cheeks then one to her thigh, then another to the sensitive curve where bottom met leg, no spots left untouched. It was getting harder to keep still and she kicked, but there was nowhere to go, her wrist stiffened in his grasp and he let her go so he could adjust her over his knee, taking a moment to stop and rub her gently, allowing her a moment to compose herself. Then his finger hooked into the tiny band of her thong and he tugged it down, lifting his leg so it fell all the way to the floor and then she was stuck again. "Dean!" She whined, pushing herself up on her elbows to look back at him indignantly. As if the thong had provided any protection at all, just a sliver of dignity.

"You know the rules," he chided her gently, and then he began again, starting what Emily called "final round" in his spanking process, the hardest swats, the ones that made her toes curl, that hit deep into her tailbone, that lifted her soft cheeks with each stroke of his hard hand, and she let herself cry now, burying her face into her hands as Dean landed spank after spank onto her tender flesh, which was now a very angry and very splotchy red. He kept it up until he could feel all the fight leaving her, until she stopped pushing against him, until her feet went still and the only sound in the room was her soft crying and his hand meeting her ass.

"Do you feel better?" He gently lifted her from his knee and stood her in front of him again, his hands taking hold of her wrists gently again and drawing them to her sides so he could see her tear stained face clearly. It hadn't been that much of a spanking, honestly, usually Emily didn't consider it a real punishment if Dean didn't use some sort of implement on her, but she had felt so much better and so much worse all at once with every emotion and word that had been exchanged that she felt more drained and exhausted as she would've if he'd taken his belt to her. She nodded quietly, not quite meeting his gaze until he drew her down onto his lap, her still flaming bottom making contact with his knee in a way that made her gasp. But instead of letting her dwell on it, he wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly, so tightly she could feel his heartbeat against hers. "I love you, Emily. I won't ever let anything happen to you. Not ever."

She continued to cry as she clung to him, until she had exhausted herself thoroughly and pulled back. Dean leaned in to give her a soft peck on the lips, his lips so gentle she could barely feel them. "You still have to face Sam, little girl."

Emily's eyes widened and she pulled back, gulping. "Fuck!"