It had been a month since we'd lost Dean. I was in a daze. I don't remember much of that time, except the smell of alcohol and the road stretching out in front of me, the feel of tears on my cheeks, and a blur of motel rooms, each blending with the others into a cacophony of color, smell, and sound. Sam was driving us from town to town, city to city, searching for a way to bring Dean back from Hell, but he was failing.

And Sam was falling apart. He tried not to let me see it, but I lived with him. There was no way I was going to miss it. He'd go out after I went to bed and buy a bottle of something, bringing it back to drink in front of the television or the fire or whatever book he was buried in trying to find a way to bring Dean back, until he'd crash early in the morning and sleep until noon or sometimes later.

I couldn't blame him. I slept a lot too, sometimes just lying in the motel bed staring at whatever water spots were on this motel's ceiling, thinking about Dean and my parents until Sam would wake up to the sound of my crying and climb out of his bed to pull me into his arms and comfort me.

He had his drinking and I had my tears. We were a sorry pair. Then one night, he broke.

We were staying in a really craptastic motel and had been for three days. The paint was chipping off the walls, the place was filthy, it only had one twin bed, and the refrigerator was from the fifties. At least it had a refrigerator. Sam was buried in some books on demonic and hell lore, ones that he'd read before but was going back over in case he missed something. Like Sam ever missed anything…

I was flipping through channels on the television. This place had basic cable, which meant Nickelodeon, and they were playing reruns of Invader Zim, back to back. I lay down on my rollaway bed and settled my head on my hands to watch.

"Jessie, please find something else to watch," Sam said about an hour later, taking a swig from the bottle on the table. "I can't concentrate with that on."

"It's the middle of the day," I said, not looking away from the television. "There's nothing else on."

"Then go find something else to do."

"There IS nothing else to do," I responded grumpily.

"Jessie…" Sam said, still not looking up from his book.

"Ok, FINE!" I snapped. I turned off the television. "Can I go outside, then?"

"No, I don't trust this neighborhood," Sam said, flipping a page.

"Then why the hell did you plant us here?" I asked, swinging my feet off the bed and standing up.

"Because it was cheap," Sam said.

"Of course," I muttered. "Why would you consider anything else?"

Sam stopped reading. "What has gotten into you?" he demanded. "Just read something, or find something else to watch. I didn't tell you to turn it off." He finally looked up from his book.

"I'm bored and you won't let me do anything!" I said, my hands clenching into fists at my sides. "You plopped us here in the middle of a bad neighborhood and go over the same books again and again hoping to find something, anything to get him back to us, and there's nothing." My voice was rising in despair. "You're Sam Winchester! You don't miss things! You remember everything! You're not going to find anything in there!" I trembled with anger and upset, my head spinning a little.

"Jessie, calm down," Sam said. He stood up, but I turned, ran into the bathroom, and slammed the door, locking it behind me. I dropped onto the floor by the tub and cried into my hands. I missed him so much and there was nothing I could do to get him back. It wasn't fair! Why did I have to lose everyone?

A couple minutes passed, and then there was a soft tap on the door. "Jessie," Sam said in a soothing voice. "Come out here, honey."

"No," I said through sobs. Nothing he said or did could make me feel better, and I knew it.

"Come on, come out. You'll feel better. We'll get out of here. Maybe go to the library?" Sam suggested in a cajoling voice.

My heart jumped and then sank as I realized something. "Why?" I ground out, wiping away my tears. "So you can look for more books on how to get him back? You can't get him back! You spent months looking. There's no way! Just leave me alone!" I could feel my heart pounding. I was so mad.

"Jessie," Sam started.

"Screw you!" I screamed at the door.

There was nothing for a couple of beats, and then Sam said, "Jessie, you have until the count of three to get out here. I'm losing my patience with you. There's no excuse to talk to me that way."

I didn't move. He could go fuck himself.

"One," Sam said, drawing out the word. Butterflies started in my stomach, but I ignored them. I scooted back so that I was between the tub and the toilet, wedged in tight. Let him come get me. He was going to have a fight on his hands if he did.

"Two," Sam said. I watched the handle on the door twitch, the edges of my vision a little hazy. The handle stopped moving, and he said, "Young lady, if you don't open the door before I get to three, I will pick this lock, and then you will be very sorry."

"Go to hell!" I screamed, heat and anger drowning me.

"Three," he said. One second later, the door had popped open and Sam was standing in the doorway, his jaw twitching. I braced my arms against the toilet and the tub, ready to put up a fight, wanting the fight. I was so angry.

He took two steps into the room and grabbed me around the waist, lifting me. I struggled to brace myself, to keep him from getting me off the floor, out of the corner, but my arms and legs were no match for his strength. He lifted me as easily as a sack of flour, tossed me over his shoulder, and trapped my legs against his wide chest. "Calm down," he said. "You're glowing."

"Let me down!" I screamed, ignoring him and punching his back ineffectually. I tried throwing myself to the side to roll off his shoulder, but he held me there easily. He sat down on his bed and I struggled against him as he dropped me onto his lap and brought his giant paw down on my butt, hard.

"Calm down, young lady," he said, spanking again and again. I tried to crawl off his lap, but he held me there easily and continued to spank me. I squirmed and wiggled and screeched and kicked, but he didn't stop and he didn't slow down. His hand just fell again and again over my jeans.

Finally, when I'd stopped struggling and had started crying, he started talking as he spanked. "All I asked you to do was find something else to watch on television and you throw a temper tantrum. I don't know what has gotten into you today, but it stops now. No more temper tantrums, no more screaming, no more calling me names. I've had enough. You will behave yourself or you will end up back over my knee. Do you understand me, young lady?"

His hand had not stopped falling. "I…" I said, the burning in my butt distracting me from what he was saying. "I can't think!" I yelled, pulling the bedspread into a ball underneath me.

He paused. "Do you understand me?" he repeated.

"Yes, Sam," I said after a second of fighting to remember what he'd said.

"Good," he said, bringing his hand down again. "No more attitude, no more arguing, no more fighting with me today, or you're going back over my knee. I'm tired of it."

"Yes, Sam," I gasped out. He stopped spanking and helped me sit up, pulling me into his lap to hug me. I wrapped my arms around his neck and buried my face in his chest.

"I'm sorry," I said.

"At least we know another way to stop your glow now," he said me. "What got into you?" Despair rushed through me.

"Oh, god, Sam, I miss him so much!" I said and cried into his chest. He wrapped his arms around me and held me to him, kissing the top of my head.

"All right, since the library is out, let's go to a movie. Ok?" Sam asked when I'd stopped crying and was just leaning against him. "You want to go see Kung Fu Panda?" I nodded. "Ok, go wash your face and we'll go."

He was very sweet to me the rest of the day and I behaved myself, ashamed of how I'd acted. He took me to the movie and then out for dinner. After dinner, he took me to a cleared construction site to burn the brush there, and then we headed back to the room. It was getting late.

"Get ready for bed," Sam said. I was exhausted. The day's exertions had worn me down. I took a shower and put my pajamas on without argument. Sam tucked me into my rollaway and put my snowman next to me. I wrapped my arm around it and looked up at him.

"I'm sorry, Sam. You didn't deserve me acting like that," I whispered.

"It's ok, honey," he said, kissing my forehead. "You're a good girl. You're just dealing with a lot of grief. Go to sleep. I need to go out to take care of something, but I'll be back in a few hours. Call me if you need me, and you can go to the front desk if you need help immediately."

"Will you be back by morning?" I asked. He stroked my hair.

"Well before," he said. I closed my eyes and was almost instantly asleep.