Author's Note: I hope all my readers are doing well and staying safe. Thank you for all of the reviews that you posted. I love seeing them. I've said it before, but it really thrills me to know that others are enjoying my work. While I come up with these stories to entertain myself, seeing others enjoy them makes the effort of getting them from my mind to my computer screen worthwhile.

I wanted to mention that while the cities, towns, and road names I've used in this story are real, the people and businesses (with the exception of Bobby Mackey's) are my creations. Any resemblance to any real person or business is purely coincidental.

WARNING: This chapter contains spanking. If that offends you, hit the back button now.

CHAPTER 12

Dean looked up as Charlie sat down across from him and picked up her beer. They'd gone on the ghost tour offered by the night club and, other than a few spots of high EMF readings, they hadn't found anything that would indicate there was anything other than some possible ghost activity. Given that ghosts weren't the reason they were there, Dean and Sam didn't have any plans to follow up on that.

On the other hand, Charlie had decided she wanted to do some more checking around the main floors of the building before making up her mind. Since she was less likely to be noticed than the Winchester brothers, she had done some more reconnaissance around the bar, slipping into a few areas that were normally off limits to patrons.

"Nothing," she reported after she took a sip of the amber liquid. "I got some high EMF readings once, but nothing to indicate demon activity." Her voice clearly showed that she was disappointed and a bit embarrassed to have dragged her friends along on what appeared to have been a wild goose chase.

"Yeah, that's what I expected," Sam responded. "There's no sign of demons anywhere around here. If they're here, they're hiding their tracks extremely well." He didn't think demons were using the alleged portal to Hell as a doorway, but he hated seeing Charlie feeling so badly about the results of this investigation. In fact, he didn't think there was even a portal to Hell anywhere near Bobby Mackey's or Wilder, Kentucky. "I suggest we head back to the motel and see what Krissy has been able to dig up."

"I'm sorry I dragged you guys out here," Charlie apologized as she looked down at her nearly empty beer glass. She didn't drink often, and the alcohol combined with the disappointment of the investigation was making her maudlin.

"There's nothing to apologize for, kiddo," Dean said. He reached over and, using a finger under her chin, raised her head so that her gaze met his. "You got us out of the bunker - which we all needed - and this has been a good test for Krissy." He released her chin and sat back. "Let's get out of here. It's been a long day." He downed the last of his beer in a single swallow as though he were emphasizing his point. "Let's head back to the motel and get some rest. We can decide what we want to do from here over breakfast in the morning. "

Sam lifted his mostly empty beer bottle to his lips and followed his brother's example. "Sounds good to me."

Charlie nodded her agreement and stood. "I need to go to the restroom before we leave. I'll be back in a minute."

Dean shook his head in amusement, but he wisely chose to keep his comment about the size of women's bladders to himself. "We'll wait for you here."

A few minutes later, Charlie had finished her business and was winding her way through the crowded tables to where Dean and Sam were waiting. She was almost there when a hand descended onto her shoulder and stopped her progress. She turned to look at the owner of the hand.

"Hey, pretty lady, how 'bout you and me have a dance?" The man speaking to her could have come straight out of central casting for a stereotypical redneck. He was wearing stained jeans, a graphic t-shirt sporting a message that was close to being obscene, a full beard, and a trucker hat.

"Sorry, I'm not interested," Charlie said as she tried to step out of his grasp.

Unfortunately, he didn't take "no" for an answer. His grip tightened and his features grew harder. "Now, don't be that way, sugar. I've always wanted to dance with a pretty little redheaded girl."

"Not interested," she replied in a harder tone as she again tried to take a step back. She bumped into someone standing behind her, and turned her head to apologize. Her immediate sense of relief was quickly replaced by a feeling of frustration.

"The lady said she isn't interested, so take my advice and back off, pal," Dean said as he moved around Charlie to step between her and the man accosting her.

"Why don't you stay outta what ain't your business," the man said, as he gripped his beer bottle a little tighter. It was obvious he was gearing up for a fight. In his drunken state, he had no doubt he could take on Dean and come out the victor.

"Well, you see, it is my business. Charlie, here, came with me, and she's gonna be leaving with me. Ain't that right," Dean said as he allowed his gaze to drift past the man's shoulder.

"That's right," Sam said from behind the man, who had been so focused on Charlie and Dean that he hadn't noticed the taller Winchester brother moving up behind him.

The man spun on his feet to confront Sam and nearly lost his balance from the sudden movement. He was just sober enough to realize that he was out matched and was about to bite off more than he could chew, so he held his hands up in a placating manner. "I didn't mean anything by it."

"Yeah, right," Charlie huffed. "A little tip, when a woman says she isn't interested, that means she isn't interested." She turned and walked off, leaving Dean and Sam to follow her. Once they were out of the bar and standing beside the Impala, she said, "I could have handled that myself."

"I know you could have," Dean said, "but there's no reason you should have to." He opened the door and slid into the car, signaling an end to the conversation.

Sam smothered a grin as he took his own seat. He hadn't missed hearing Charlie mutter something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like "overbearing, male chauvinist pig." He didn't know if she was referring to the guy in the bar or to Dean and his overprotective tendencies, so he chose to pretend like he hadn't heard a word.

XxxxxxX XxxxxxX XxxxxxX XxxxxX

About twenty minutes later, Dean pulled the Impala into a parking spot in their motel. It was obvious, even from where they were that the lights in both of their rooms were out. Given the fact that it was close to eleven p.m., and they had left the bunker at six o'clock that morning, the idea that Krissy could have already gone to bed wasn't that far out of the realm of possibility, so the lack of lights didn't raise any immediate alarms.

Sam flipped the overhead light on as he entered the room just steps ahead of Dean. He might have been exhausted, but he still immediately noticed that his laptop still sat in the same place on the table where he'd left it. Even the charger was still on top of it.

Something in Sam's body language alerted Dean that there was something wrong. "What's up?" he asked as Sam pulled his phone out of his pocket.

Before Sam could place a call, the phone rang. "Hey, Charlie," I was just getting ready to call you." He listened for a moment before responding. "No, she isn't over here. It doesn't look like she did any of the research," he said as something in the corner caught his attention. "And, it looks like her backpack is here." Again, there was a pause. "See you in a minute." As he disconnected the call, he looked over to see his brother studying him.

"Sammy?"

"That was Charlie. Krissy isn't in their room, either. She's coming over." Sam moved to pick up the backpack he'd spotted in the corner. He unzipped the main compartment and pulled out the book Krissy had snuck out of the bunker's library. He frowned as he placed it on the table beside his computer and continued to search through the bag. He also pulled out her computer and the charger she'd told them had been left at the bunker.

"Find anything?" Dean asked as he came to stand beside his brother.

"Not to indicate where she's gone or what she might be up to," Sam replied as he took a seat and fired up his computer. He was peripherally aware of Dean opening the door to their room so Charlie could enter as he pulled up the support program for the tracking app he'd uploaded onto Krissy's phone. His anger and aggravation with the teenager grew as he pulled up the data to show her current location. "She wouldn't have left her stuff behind, so I doubt she's run off."

It seemed like an eternity passed before Sam spoke again. "I've got her general location from her cell phone tracker. She's some place near Cincinnati. It's working on getting an exact GPS location," he said as he watched the screen in front of him. He tapped his right index finger on the desk impatiently. About a minute later, a set of GPS coordinates popped up on the screen. "I got her. She's about 15 miles away," Sam announced to the room in general as he plugged the coordinates into a mapping program to identify the address of her location. "At a tattoo parlor, it seems." He sat back in his seat and looked up at Dean and Charlie who were standing nearby.

"A tattoo parlor?" Dean repeated incredulously. "What the hell is she doing at a tattoo parlor?"

"Damn it," Charlie said as a thought occurred. "I think I know, and it's my fault." The two men watched as her facial expression turned from one of concern to one of guilt.

Dean turned to look at her. "How is that your fault?"

She sighed. "I gave her the idea." She pulled out the other chair from the table and sank down into it. "She was upset about not being able to go to Bobby Mackey's because she didn't have protection against demon possession. She asked me if any of us had amulets. I told her we didn't, but we were protected because we have tattoos of the sigil. She got really quiet after that and spent a lot of time looking at something on her phone." Charlie smacked her forehead in frustration. "I should have known she was planning something."

Sam reached across the table and put his hand over hers. "It's not your fault, Charlie. She came up with the idea all on her own."

"Yeah, you've known her for what . . . all of two or three days?" Dean asked. He'd begun pacing the room as Charlie was telling her story, but he came to a stop beside her. He dropped a reassuring hand onto her shoulder. "If you count back to when we first met, we've known her for a couple of years. She was manipulative and sneaky even then. If we didn't catch onto the fact that she was planning something, what makes you think you should have?"

Charlie shrugged in response. Logically, she knew Dean was right. Krissy's choices were all her own. But, she still felt guilty for giving her the idea. Dean suppressed a groan. He could see where this was heading, and he didn't like it. He ran his hand through his hair in frustration. He didn't have time to deal with his friend's misplaced sense of guilt while simultaneously retrieving his errant ward. "Okay, we'll talk about this more later. In the meantime, you stay here in case Krissy shows back up before Sammy and I can go and get her."

XxxxxxX XxxxxxX XxxxxxX XxxxxxX

When they reached the location shown by the tracker on Krissy's phone Dean was in an even worse mood than when they'd left the hotel. They'd been delayed by traffic tie-up due to a wreck on I-275, the route the GPS app had reported would be the quickest. "That's why I hate interstates, Sammy," he complained as he climbed out of the car. "There's always a traffic jam when you're trying to get somewhere in a hurry. We could have been here twenty minutes ago if we'd gone to the back roads."

Sam didn't rely. Instead, he just let Dean vent off some of his frustrations. He knew from experience that it was safer for everyone that way.

They stood looking at the building that housed Elemental Ink. It was an old two story house that had been converted into a business. Paint was peeling off the siding on one side of the house, and the gravel parking lot had several potholes deep enough to swim in. Dean was not impressed - especially when he felt a board on the wooden porch sag under his weight as he stepped on it.

When they stepped through the door, they entered a small waiting area in front of a high counter. There was a gate at one end that allowed for passage between the lobby and the working area. Behind the counter they saw a series of workstations and doors off to the side. Krissy sat at one of the work stations while someone was working on what appeared to be her left shoulder blade.

The tattoo artist looked up from his work at the sound of the door closing. "I'll be with you guys in just a minute." He and Krissy were the only ones in the shop at the moment, and he hadn't expected to get any more customers that late.

Krissy hadn't noticed the sound of the closing door. She was too lost in the head space she'd entered while trying to ignore the pain of the tattoo machine. But her head jerked up when Toby, the artist applying her tattoo, spoke to whoever had entered. She groaned out loud when she saw who it was and dropped her head onto her arms, which were folded over the back of the bench she was leaning against. "I'm so fucked," she said just loud enough for Toby to hear.

He paused in what he was doing. "What's going on?" he asked, concerned.

"Those two guy who just came in?"

"Yeah."

"They're my uncles."

"So? You're over eighteen," Toby responded. "They can't tell you what to do."

"Actually, we can," said Dean as he walked up to stand in front of them. His voice was low and hard, clearly giving warning that he wasn't someone to be messed with. "Seeing how she's only fifteen."

"But she had an ID."

"Yeah, I'm sure she did," Dean said, giving Krissy a hard look, causing her to flinch in response.

After a moment he turned back to study the man sitting in front of him. He was young, no more than twenty-two or twenty-three years old. He had long dark blond hair that had been pulled back into a man bun at the top of his head and a scraggly beard. Dean wondered if the guy was even licensed, given how young he appeared. Krissy sure knew how to pick 'em, he thought to himself.

"I . . . um . . ." the young man stammered. He wasn't sure how to act in the face of the two angry men standing in front of him, especially when Sam stepped around him to look at what he had been doing to Krissy's shoulder.

The design on Krissy's shoulder was almost finished, with just a few remaining areas to be colored in. Although he didn't show it, Sam was relieved to see that the sigil had been inked correctly. It was a lot more difficult to correct an improperly inked demon warding symbol than your average tattoo. Even the slightest error in the design could render the tattoo useless - or worse.

"Finish it," Sam stated in an authoritative tone. He stepped back to lean against a nearby counter to watch the man work.

Toby turned back to resume his work, but Krissy could feel his hands shaking. "Come on guys! Back off. Go wait out in the lobby or something," she demanded. "You're making him nervous, and I'd rather not have his hands shaking right now."

Sam and Dean shared a look. After a few seconds, Sam tilted his head toward the waiting area. Dean turned to start in that direction, but he paused when Sam spoke.

"It has to be exactly like the picture she showed you," he said. He had spotted what appeared to be a printout of a scanned photograph of the sigil from the book Krissy had stolen from the bunker's library and the tracing that had been used to transfer the design onto Krissy's skin laying on a nearby work tray. "There can't be any variation, even in the shading."

"Uh, yeah, sure. That's what she said," Toby responded.

Sam gave the young man a considering look then stepped back around to where he could face Krissy. He gave her a stern glare, and without saying a word he smacked Dean on the shoulder and pointed to the waiting area on the other side of the counter.

Toby waited until he saw that the two men were in what appeared to be a quiet, but heated conversation before he reactivated the tattoo machine and turned back to resume his work on Krissy's shoulder.

"I'm sorry about my uncles," she said just loud enough to be heard over the buzzing of the equipment. "They can be a bit intense sometimes."

"Are you really only fifteen, " he asked. He paused what he was doing, both so he could hear what she said in response and to double check the picture he'd been using as a guide. He was going to take any chances on getting any of the remaining portion of the symbol wrong.

"Yeah," she replied, hoping he wouldn't want to delve any further. Unfortunately, lady luck definitely wasn't on her side that night.

"So, what's up with them and this symbol thing. You said it had something to do with the family business. What kind of business is that?"

Krissy let her head fall forward onto her folded arms for a moment while she tried to quickly think of a believable story she could tell him. A moment later she sighed in resignation.

"I'm not at liberty to discuss our family business. It's just too dangerous." Let him think they were involved with the mob or some kind of gang or something, she thought. "Let's just say they don't want me in on it. But I have other plans - ones that require me to have that symbol tattooed somewhere on my body. They weren't going to let me get it, so I snuck out of the house tonight to do it."

"Uh … okay … wow." Toby wasn't sure what to say in response to what she'd told him. He glanced toward the waiting area and saw that the two men had ended their conversation. The taller one, who'd checked his work, was leaning against the wall and appeared to be watching him. The other man was pacing back and forth in the confines of the small space. Toby swallowed hard. "They aren't going to kill me, are they?"

"No, they aren't going to hurt you. I'm the one they're going to kill."

Her comment was spoken so quietly that he almost didn't hear her, and he wasn't so sure she hadn't meant that literally. He quickly returned to his work, wanting to get the tattoo done and those men and their niece out of the shop as quickly as possible.

Thirty minutes later, Toby held the printed copy of the picture of the sigil beside Krissy's shoulder and compared it to the tattoo he had just finished. He gave a quick prayer of thanks to whatever god might be listening that it looked like an exact duplicate. He quickly spread a layer of antibiotic ointment over the darkly tinted wound and taped a sheet of plastic wrap over it.

Krissy stood and slipped a folded stack of five twenties into his hand. It was twice what he'd told her it would cost, but she wanted to make up for the trouble she'd caused.

She glanced over at the front of the shop to where Dean and Sam were waiting. Dean was at the front door and Sam was holding the counter gate open for her. Both men wore nearly identical angry expressions on their faces. She knew she had no other choice but to bite the bullet, so she made her way toward the counter. With each step she took her anxiety level rose, and she began to wonder if that was how people being led to the gallows felt.

As she passed through the open gate, Sam clamped a hand on the back of her neck and, letting the gate bang closed behind her, steered her toward the front door where Dean was waiting. She nearly shrank back from the look he gave her as he opened the door and gestured for her and Sam to precede him.

"Call Charlie and let her know you're still alive," Dean instructed a few minutes later as he peeled out of the parking lot, spewing gravel from the Impala's tires. "She was worried about you." The "and so were we" remained left unsaid.

Krissy pulled her phone out of her pocket and studied it for a moment before pulling up Charlie's contact information and placing the call. She knew, even without being told, that she had disappointed her new friend, and she felt bad about it. "Hi, Charlie," she said when the other end of the call was answered.

The Winchester brothers listened to Krissy's end of the conversation, and could only imagine that Charlie was reading the teenager the riot act.

"Yeah, they found me. I'd gone to Cincinnati to get that sigil tattooed on my shoulder. . . . I'm sorry, Charlie, I didn't mean to scare you. . . . I don't know, I guess (that one made them wonder what Charlie had said). . . . Yeah, we should be back in about half an hour or so."

Dean could tell the conversation was beginning to wind down. "Give me the phone," he directed.

"Dean wants to talk to you," Krissy told Charlie and held the device over the back of the front seat so Dean could grab it.

"Like Krissy said, we should be back in half an hour or so - that is if we don't pull off the road for a detailed discussion." He eyed Krissy in the rearview mirror as he spoke and watched as the color drained from her face at his words. Good, you'd better be scared, little girl, he thought to himself. "Hey, listen, Charlie. Sammy and I have been talking. Given what's happened here and the fact that we didn't find anything at all at the nightclub, I think we should just call this investigation over and head home tomorrow. How does that sound to you? Thanks, Charlie, I knew you'd understand. Sam or I will bring Krissy to your room when we get back."

He ended the call a moment later and dropped Krissy's phone onto the seat between himself and Sam. "Hey," he said harshly as Krissy moved to reach over the back of the seat to retrieve it. She quickly sat back in her seat and watched as Sam picked it up and tucked it into his shirt pocket.

"You can have this back after you tell us exactly what you did," he said as he turned around in his seat to face her. "So I suggest you start talking."

"About what?"

"How about what the hell you were thinking sneaking off to get yourself inked up. And while you're at it, how did you get there in the first place, and how'd you pay for it?" Dean demanded, not taking his eyes from the road.

"And how did you get your hands on a picture of that sigil, anyway. I've not taught it to you yet, so how'd you even know what it was?" He already knew about the book in her backpack, but he wanted to hear her say she'd taken it from the bunker.

"Yeah, I'd suggest you start from the beginning and not leave anything out," Dean directed. His voice was hard and carried a clear warning that he wasn't going to be willing to accept anything but the full truth from her.

Krissy swallowed hard and launched into an explanation. Deciding to heed Dean's warning, she described how she had taken the book from the bunker's library on the off chance she might be able to use it, had gotten the idea about the tattoo, had tricked them into letting her stay in their room while they went on the investigation, and how she had taken money from their bags to pay for an Uber to the tattoo parlor and the tattoo. "That's everything, I promise," she said as her tale came to an end.

"Let me get this straight," Dean said as he pulled the Impala to the side of the road and put it in park. Any color that Krissy had regained after her earlier scare once again drained from her face. "You lied to us, stole money from our bags, and ran off by yourself without telling anyone where you were going to get a tattoo at a dump of a tattoo parlor - all because we wouldn't let you go with us to a nightclub to investigate suspected demon activity when you weren't adequately protected?"

"Not to mention you took a book from the bunker's library and had a sigil you knew nothing about permanently etched onto your body," Sam added in a stern voice.

Krissy nodded. "Yes, sir." Her voice was so soft they almost didn't hear her response.

"No, own up to it. Say it loud enough that we can hear you," Dean demanded.

"Yes, sir," she said again, this time in a voice loud enough to be heard.

Dean nodded and gave a short bark of amused laughter. "Girl, you sure know how to dig yourself into a deep hole. I hope you brought a rope, because you're gonna need it." He turned back and restarted the car's engine before pulling back into traffic. "We'll talk about this more after we get back to the bunker. But I highly suggest that you be on your best behavior between now and then. You want to control just how angry I am when I bust your ass."

"Yes, sir," Krissy responded as she wiped away the tears that had begun rolling down her cheeks and turned to look out the window at the darkness beyond.

Dean had noticed the gesture, and had to harden his heart against saying anything to comfort her. The time for comfort would come later, after she had faced the consequences of her actions. For now, the agonizing wait was to be a part of those consequences.

XxxxxxX XxxxxX XxxxxX XxxxxX

It was almost ten o'clock the next morning when Dean called Charlie to tell her he wanted to be on the road back to the bunker in an hour. Since Krissy was rooming with her, Dean was putting her in charge of making sure the teenager was ready to leave on time.

Twenty minutes later, Krissy was in the shower with instructions to call Sam to apply antibiotic ointment to her tattoo when she got out, and Charlie was standing in front of the guys' door. She knew neither Winchester brother was in a very good mood that morning, but she needed to make a confession. The thought of it had kept her awake all night worrying not only about what she needed to tell them, but also about what their reactions - especially Dean's reaction - to it was going to be.

She took a deep breath to steady her nerves and knocked on the door. Some of her tension eased a bit when Sam answered the summons rather than Dean.

"Hey, Charlie. What's up?"

"Hi, Sam. I was wondering … I mean …" she stammered, causing Sam to raise an eyebrow in curiosity. "Damn it." She said without heat. "Could I talk to you and Dean? Outside? There's something I need to tell you." And maybe telling you in public will buy me a bit of protection from Dean's temper, she thought to herself.

Sam gave her a considering look, like he was trying to read her mind. After a few seconds he nodded and, ducking back into the room, yelled for Dean to join them.

"What is it? Did Krissy do something?" he demanded when he joined them.

"No, it's not Krissy. It's about the trusted source we're here investigating for." Charlie hoped her voice didn't sound as uncertain to them as it did to her.

"What about it?"

"I … um … I'm the trusted source," she said in a rush.

"Huh?" Dean asked, not yet processing what he had just heard.

Charlie looked first at Dean's confused expression, then at Sam's accepting one.

"You already figured it out, didn't you?"

"Yeah, I suspected when you asked us about it at the bunker. But, I finally figured it out last night. You knew too much about it already and were too accepting of the fact that we didn't find anything," Sam replied.

"You were the trusted source that wanted us to do this investigation," Dean stated in a deadly calm voice.

Charlie swallowed hard before nodding. "Yes."

"Why?"

Charlie flinched at the angry tone behind Dean's single word question. She didn't need him to clarify what he meant. "I didn't think you'd agree to come with me, and I wanted us to spend some time together."

"So you lied to get us to travel halfway across the country on what you knew would be a wild goose chase?" Again, Dean's voice was hard. He grabbed Charlie's upper arm in an iron grip and nearly pulled her off her feet as he dragged her toward the Impala.

"Dean!" Sam shouted after his brother, trying to warn him not to do something he'd regret.

"You and Krissy be packed and ready by eleven," he ordered Sam over his shoulder, ignoring the warning. "Have Krissy pack Charlie's stuff. We'll be back before it's time to leave." He practically shoved Charlie into the passenger seat before climbing behind the wheel. "Not a word," he directed with a hard look in her direction.

Charlie swallowed again and nodded. This was going to be worse than she'd feared when she'd decided to make her confession. She'd almost decided against doing it, but the guilt of knowing she'd deceived her friends added to her feeling of being at least partially responsible for Krissy's actions the night before, had been eating a hole in her stomach.

They drove for a few minutes along a nearly deserted county road until Dean spotted an old abandoned house that was hidden from the road by overgrown shrubs and trees. He pulled into the driveway that was now little more than a couple of ruts in the ground and came to a stop in front of the house. He got out of the car and looked around. Seemingly satisfied that they would have at least some semblance of privacy, he walked around the front of the vehicle and opened the passenger door.

Dean's temper had cooled significantly during the drive. While he was still angry and disappointed with his friend, he was no longer in a rage. Because of that, he was willing to wait for Charlie to exit the Impala on her own rather than pulling her out by her arm. Once she was out, he guided her to the house's concrete front stoop and directed her to have a seat.

"I really don't know what to say to you," he started as he paced back and forth. "All I can ask is why? Why did you lie to me and Sam about this job? All you needed to do was ask, and we would have come with you."

Charlie tucked her hair behind her ears, giving off an impression of vulnerability. "I wasn't so sure you would, especially with Krissy in your life now. I thought maybe," she paused to collect her thoughts. "Maybe," she repeated, "that you wouldn't want to come because of her. When I realized that wasn't the case, it was too late. I'd already told you about the job."

"And you couldn't have come to us and told us what was going on?" Dean asked as he came to stand in front of her.

"I was too embarrassed. I didn't think you'd ever find out or that there would be any harm." She gave a quick bark of laughter. "I didn't expect Krissy to take not being able to go to the night club because of suspected demon activity so hard or to run off like she did."

Dean shook his head in a combination of disappointment and amusement. "What about all the reports and pictures you had?"

"I created them to support my story."

"So this wasn't a spur of the moment decision. You really planned this?"

Charlie nodded before looking down at her hands.

"I never would have expected something like this from you, Charlie. I just can't wrap my head around it." He moved to sit on the stoop beside her. His voice was quiet with an edge of steel. "You know how I feel about being lied to, don't you."

Again, Charlie nodded.

"No, I want to hear you say it."

"Yes," she whispered.

Dean nodded and rubbed his suddenly sweaty hands on his thighs while he contemplated his next move. He sighed as he reached a decision. "I can't let this go. You know that don't you? You're like my little sister, and family doesn't lie to each other. There are consequences when that happens."

Again, Charlie nodded. "You and Sam are like brothers to me, too, Dean. I've felt so bad about this, and I just couldn't hide it from you any longer. I'll accept whatever punishment you give me."

"Okay then," he directed. "Stand up and unfasten your jeans."

He waited until Charlie had done as he'd directed then pulled her face down over his knee. He didn't make her wait. Instead he immediately brought his hand down hard on the middle of her right butt cheek, eliciting a surprised yelp.

Charlie had forgotten just how much being spanked by Dean Winchester's hard right hand actually hurt. She tried to keep her composure and remain stoic, but that didn't last for very long. As more and more stinging swats fell on her backside and sit spots she began crying and begging Dean to stop. At one point she reached a hand back to try to protect herself, but Dean pinned it to the small of her back with the hand he'd been using to hold her in place.

After what seemed forever Charlie lay limp over Dean's lap and felt the weight of his hand resting on her burning backside. She gave a sigh of relief, thinking the ordeal was over.

"Oh, we're not done yet," Dean told her as he reached for the waistband of her Jean's and yanked them down to her knees.

"No, Dean, please," she begged. "I've learned my lesson. I'll never lie to you or Sam again. I promise. Just please don't."

Dean had to grin at the boxer briefs he discovered under Charlie's jean's. Leave it to her to always be different. As amused as he was, he quickly sobered. "I'm going to make sure you've learned this lesson and never forget it. Sam and I need to be able to trust you. We can't do that if you lie to us." With that statement even harder smacks began landing on her upper thighs and sit spots. Dean wanted her to feel this punishment for a good long while.

After a good dozen seats Dean decided it was time to bring things to an end. "You do not lie to me." The hardest swats yet punctuated each word. "You do not lie to Sam." Again, each word was punctuated with a heavy swat from Dean's hand. "Is that understood?"

He barely heard her whispered, "yes, Dean."

He reached down to pull her Jean's back into place. "I hope it is, Charlie, because i never want to have to do that again." He waited until he sensed she was ready, then helped her to regain her feet.

Once they were both standing, Dean opened his arms in invitation and Charlie immediately threw herself against his chest. She might be into women, but there was something comforting about being held against Dean's warm muscular chest that made her feel loved and comforted. "I don't want you to have to do that again, either," she said into his tshirt.

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Sam watched as his brother dragged Charlie to the Impala and shoved her into the vehicle. If he wasn't so pissed at her himself he might have felt sorry for her having to face Dean's wrath. He didn't know the full story, but he couldn't help but think of everything that could have gone horribly wrong because of her falsehoods.

With that in mind, he pulled out his phone and sent a text to Krissy telling her to let him know when she was out of the shower and dressed so he could redress her shoulder to protect the tattoo during the upcoming long car ride. He'd returned her phone to her after they had arrived back at the motel the night before. He'd wanted to be sure that there was nothing to distract her from the thoughts of the consequences of her actions.

That done, he turned on his heel and went back into his and Dean's room to finish packing up their stuff so they'd be ready to check out and hit the road when Dean and Charlie got back. He had just stacked their bags by the door to their room when his phone dinged, indicating he'd just received a text message. He thumbed it open to see that it was from Krissy, telling him that she was ready for him to dress her shoulder. He grabbed a room key and stuffed it in his pocket before picking up the first aid kit he'd set aside and heading next door.

Krissy opened the door to his knock, and he stepped into the room. He took a glance around, and, from what he could tell, her and Charlie's bags were packed and ready to go. Sam glanced at the teenager as he moved over to the table and pulled out a chair, turning it around so she could straddle it.

"Take a seat," he ordered as he put the first aid kit on the table and began pulling out the supplies he'd need. Once she was seated, he took a look at the tattoo to check for any signs of infection or reaction. "Did you wash it?"

"Yeah, with soap and water. Although, it's kinda hard to reach well," she admitted.

Sam grunted in response and pulled an antiseptic wipe from the bundle of supplies and ripped open the foil package. There was awkward silence between them as he used the wipe to cleanse the tattoo and the area surrounding it.

"Are you still mad at me?" Krissy asked in a quiet voice when she couldn't stand the silence any longer.

"I'm still angry, yes, and disappointed in you. But, I'm not mad," Sam responded in a neutral voice. He smeared a thin layer of antibiotic ointment over the fresh ink and laid a large gauze pad over it. "Normally you wouldn't cover a fresh tattoo after you take the initial covering off, but you're going to be riding in the car all day. This will help protect it from being irritated by rubbing against the back of the seat. I'm only going to tape it on the top and bottom so air can still get to it. Take it off when we get to the bunker."

Krissy nodded.

"You'll need to meet me in the infirmary so I take care of this everyday until it's healed and watch for infections a reaction. It should take about a week. It will need to be cleaned and have a layer of ointment put on it. We'll leave the covering off after today," he said as he smoothed down the last piece of tape to hold the gauze in place.

Krissy watched him as he began putting the remaining supplies back into the first aid kit and gathering up the trash from the supplies he'd used. When Sam turned back around from tossing the remains in the small garbage can by the table, he found Krissy standing at the table. She'd pulled a t-shirt on over the tank she was wearing, and she had a pensive expression on her face.

"Sam, can we talk a minute?"

He nodded and pulled the other chair away from the table and placed it so that he could sit across from her. At his gesture, she sat back down in the chair she'd just vacated - this time facing Sam.

"What do you want to talk about?"

Krissy swallowed hard. Sam was much easier to talk to than Dean, but this was still hard. "I'm sorry about what I did last night."

Sam nodded his acceptance of her apology. "Being sorry is good, but you are still going to have to face the consequences for your actions after we get back to the bunker." His voice had taken on a gentler, more reasonable tone. "What you did," he sighed heavily and shook his head in amazement. "Honestly, Krissy, I have no clue what your thought process for that was. If you had asked us about getting that tattoo, Dean and I probably would have agreed. Hell, had either of us even thought about it, we might have suggested it." He watched as Krissy hung her head in shame. "It's not that you got the tattoo that Dean and I are so upset about. It's how you went about doing it."

Sam tilted his head as he heard the rumbling of a classic muscle car engine approaching. "As I said, I'm no longer mad at you. Neither is Dean. We've had a chance to calm down. But, all three of us will be having a long, serious discussion about this once we're back at the bunker." He rose to his feet as he heard car doors close. "Now, give me a hug, and let's get ready to leave. Dean wants to get on the road."

Krissy rose to her feet and found herself wrapped in Sam's warm embrace. She leaned into it for a moment, welcoming the comfort and reassurance that came from both what he'd said and the hug. "Thanks, Sam," she whispered before moving to step out of his arms. She wasn't sure he'd heard her, but his arms tightened briefly before he let her go.

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Author's note: I hope I've not written Charlie too out of character in this chapter. The scene between her and Dean was written as a gift for someone who told me by private message that she wanted to be my version of Charlie. I hope you like it.

If anyone else has a suggestion or a request, please send it to me in a private message. I'll see what I can do to work it into the story.