Thank you so much for all of the kind reviews. You have really encouraged me in my writing. I hope you continue to enjoy the story as much as I am enjoying writing it. This chapter has been hard for me because I want to get it just right. Please review.

Chapter 8: Consequences

Sam and I anxiously waited in our seats, not daring to move or speak after dad's explicit directive. We also strained our ears trying to hear anything from within the sheriff's office that might give us some indication of how things were fairing for Dean and ultimately ourselves. Occasionally, we would hear our father's deep, gruff voice raised as a sign of frustration or disbelief, but we could not hear enough to satisfy our insatiable curiosity. At one point, when we could hear our father's voice most clearly, Sam and I glanced toward each other and then swallowed deeply and let out a significant sigh. We both knew that Dean was under deep scrutiny and neither of us wished that upon him or even our worst enemy.

We were both terrified for our brother, and the possibility that he may be spending time in the sheriff's jail. Not only was dad furious with Dean's obvious disregard for the rules and blatant disrespect for authority, but he also had to convince the sheriff that Dean would be adequately chastised, and therefore, did not need jail time to learn his lesson. We could only imagine the inquisition that Dean was enduring at this very moment. I was pretty sure that Dean's very life was probably flashing before his eyes. I quietly prayed that Dean would be brave and strong and able to withstand the intense questioning and extreme tongue-lashing that was obviously happening behind the closed door.

Finally, after about a half hour, the door to the sheriff's office opened with a slight creak. My eyes darted to the opening, and I held my breath waiting for Dean and my father to emerge from the room. I saw as Dean shuffled out from the office that his eyes were cast downward in obvious guilt and shame. His red-rimmed eyes and flushed cheeks also indicated that he had been crying; though, he would never admit it. My throat dropped into my stomach as I looked at the anguish that was written on his countenance. I couldn't help myself as I cried out, "Dean? Dean, what are they going to do? You're not going to jail are you?"

Dean looked at me with shame and remorse plainly displayed. As dad exited the room, he heard my cry and said, "Kellie! SIT DOWN and BE QUIET, NOW!"

With all of my being I wanted to run and grab my brother around the waist. I wanted to hold him and let him know that everything would be okay. I wanted to comfort him like he comforted me when I had a bad dream or got hurt or scared. Only my dad's verbal command kept me glued to my chair as fear coursed through my anguished body. I could tell by the tenseness in Sam's body and the grip that he had on the chair, that he was feeling the same pressure and fear that I was. We silently watched as Dean and Dad walked up to the sheriff's counter once again. My eyes pleaded with Dean to please let us know something. We often communicated this way when silence or stealth was required; and he instantly knew what I wanted. A slight shake of his head let me know that he was not going to be going to jail, and for that I was most thankful. However, we also realized that by the time dad was through with us, jail may have been a welcome relief.

I heard the sheriff say, "Ok, it will be a $150 fine for the speeding and failure to stop for a police officer. Also, the next three Saturdays, Dean will do community service. He needs to report here at 7:00 am, and the service will be determined at that time. He will be finished at 5:00. I just need you to sign here Mr. Winchester, and we will release your children to you under your care. Remember that failure to report, will result in an immediate warrant for his arrest and further fines will be accrued."

"Don't worry. Dean will report before 7:00 am, and he will give you no trouble at all. Isn't that correct, Dean?"

"Yes, Sir," Dean answered meekly.

Finally, we were able to leave the police station as dad ushered us out of the building. He had that look of pure frustration, and I could only imagine the thoughts that were whirling through his mind. He was probably thinking of some barbaric torture method that would teach his children a lesson that they would never forget. He plowed ahead, and then turned and said, "Get in the car, all of you! Dean, follow my truck closely. I will pull off somewhere up ahead, but I'm not sure where. I need some time to wrap my head around all that just transpired. I want you to know that I am angry; I am disappointed, and I am very tired, but I also want you to know that I love you and nothing you ever do will change that. However, I need to think long and hard about this one."

"We love you too, Dad," we said as we quietly climbed into the Impala.

We said very little as we drove mile after mile with dad's taillights

constantly in view. I think we were all exhausted from the events of the past several hours, and we were also apprehensive about our upcoming meeting with dad. We knew we had really disappointed dad and damaged the trust that he placed in each of us. We all dreaded looking into his eyes as he lectured us about the importance of trust and obedience, and we worried about the punishment that we knew would accompany the lecture.

Dean drove persistently without ever taking his eyes off of the road ahead. Occasionally, I saw him unconsciously bite his lip or run his tongue over his lips as if to moisten them from their dryness. He had a haunted look in his eyes, and a stiffness to his back and shoulders that told of the stress that he was under. From past experience, we knew better than try to talk to Dean when he was in this type of pensive state; his thoughts were his own, and he did not care to share when he was like this. So forward we drove into the vast unknown.

Finally, we saw dad signal that he was ready to pull over. He turned right onto a dusty gravel driveway of some kind, and Dean quickly signaled and turned as well. We followed dad as he led us down a long, winding path. Up ahead, we saw a small hunting cabin, and we knew this was to be our destination. Rather than return to the motel, dad decided to go to this hunting cabin for the night to give us any privacy that we might need. Hunters had set up these cabins several years ago throughout the countryside. Any hunter that needed a place to stay could go there free of charge as long as they left it better than they found it, and re-stocked any supplies that they used. Dad pulled up to the front door and climbed out of his truck. He came back to the car and Dean rolled down the window to see what dad had to say. "I'm going to go make sure this cabin is not being used. If it is available we'll bunk down here tonight."

We watched as dad walked up the porch steps and looked inside the front windows. He turned and motioned for us to join him. As was customary, Dean and Sam went to the trunk and retrieved the weapons that we kept stored in a duffle bag, and I headed toward the cabin ready to begin salting the lines and windows. We all had our jobs to do, and we knew how to do them well. Our very lives depended on our ability to protect and defend ourselves from the creatures that we hunted. Dad began building a fire in the stone fireplace, and before long we were all settled in for the night. Dean, Sam, and I sat on the lumpy sofa waiting for instructions from dad who had found some canned chili and was heating it on the stove. If it wasn't for the tension that hung thickly in the air, the evening would have been a very pleasant family campout.

After our dinner of chili and white bread, the boys began the dishes as I carried the bowls, spoons, and pots over to the sink. I also returned these items to their proper place after Sam thoroughly dried them. Once everything had been cleaned and put away, Dean quickly swept the floor and I wiped off the table as Sam made sure that the stove was spotless. Finally, it was time for the long-awaited conversation with dad that we all dreaded. We gave each other an encouraging look and headed into the living room to await our doom.

The three of us sat quietly and waited for dad to begin the lecture. We didn't have long to wait. Dad stood and began to pace the living room floor. Our eyes just followed him as he walked back and forth in front of us saying nothing. Finally, he stopped pacing and cleared his throat. He looked straight at us and asked, "What were you all thinking?" As usual, Sam and I waited for Dean to speak for us all. We turned and looked in his direction and tried to give him our moral support as he addressed dad's question.

"Dad, we just wanted to get out and have some fun. We didn't mean to go as far as we did; we just sort of lost track of time and distance. We were listening to the radio, and singing, and laughing; just having a really good time together. We had been cooped up inside that hotel room for so long, and we weren't sure when you were coming back. We were talking about when you took us to that circus a few years ago, and all of a sudden I saw the blue light special in my rear-view mirror. Well, you know the rest of the story, already."

"Yes, Dean, I do, unfortunately. I understand that you wanted to get out and have some fun, but I can't believe that your fun led to an arrest for you boys and your sister. Did either of you try to warn Dean that you were getting too far away from the motel and needed to turn back?"

Sam and I looked at each other and then said together, "No, Sir. We didn't even think about that."

Dad let out a deep sigh and said, "No, I don't think any of you were doing much thinking about anything." Then he turned his gaze back squarely upon Dean and said in a much louder voice, "You know that it is your job to keep your brother and sister safe. You did a very poor job of that today! You all could have been killed with that reckless driving you were doing. Eighty-seven miles per hour on a back country road full of curves and turns! Dean! How foolish could you have been?" Dad was now full-on Marine drill sergeant.

Dean just hung his head in shame.

"No! Don't you hang your head! You look up here, and you answer me!" yelled dad. "You're my son, and you answer to me when you make stupid mistakes!"

"No, Sir. I wasn't thinking at all. I panicked when I saw the police. I should have known better."

"Dean, it wasn't just when you saw the police! The damage had already been done by then. You were already goofing off so much that you didn't even realize that you were speeding in the first place. You had also been swerving in and out of your driving lane. The deputy was pulling you over to make sure that you were okay; he was worried that something was wrong with you. Instead of pulling over like someone with sense, you drove like a madman. I repeat, you could have ALL BEEN KILLED, or worse yet, killed someone else.

"I'm sorry, Dad."

"Son, you're going to be sorry. I've taught you better than this. I've warned you over and over again about how important it is that you be a safe driver, especially when others are in the car with you. You know that you have to be proactive to keep from drawing the attention of the police. Dean what you did today was unacceptable! It was reckless, and it was dangerous. Do you realize all of the awful repercussions that could have come about because of the terrible decisions that you made today? Son, how am I going to trust you to be my wingman on hunts, when I can't trust you with simple responsibilities?"

I could tell that deep down inside, that Dad was not only angry, but he was hurt. We had betrayed the trust that he had in us, and it was going to take a long time before we could build that trust back again. I knew that the acknowledgment of this is what would cut Dean to the very core of his soul. He could handle angry dad, but disappointed and hurt dad was very different, and Dean didn't ever know how to make things right in that situation. I saw him literally cringe as dad asked him that last question. He knew that dad expected a verbal answer, but he didn't know how to give him an answer. How could he respond to such a stabbing question? He just looked at dad and finally in a quivering voice, he replied, "I don't know, Dad. I don't know. I just know that I will do anything, and I mean anything, to regain your trust. Beat me until I bleed, or punch me in the face until I pass out. Whatever it takes for you to believe in me again, I'm willing. Please, Dad! Please! Whatever it takes!"

Dad quickly pulled Dean into a man-sized hug and clapped him on the back. "Dean, I don't think any of those things will be necessary. I never expected you to grow up without making some mistakes, but because of our life, mistakes have greater consequences. I love you, Son, and I love your brother and sister. It would kill me if anything ever happened to any of you. If we lived a normal life and you were a normal teenager, I probably could just take away your keys from the Impala and confiscate your cell phone, and ground you to the house for a month, but we don't have a normal life and you aren't a normal teenager, and you know that I can't let something this important and dangerous just slide. However, I am going to do something different this time. You have responsibilities on your shoulders that no other teenager I know has, and you are ultimately responsible for Sam and Kellie's safety. To acknowledge this, I am going to let you decide on Sam, Kellie, and your consequences. What do you think is the right and just thing for me to do?"