Dangerous Risks

Disclaimer: I don't own anything from Supernatural and I'm not making any money from this fic

Summary: After their father's death, Sam feels that his brother is drifting further away from him, and tries to get his attention in some way

Prompt: 50 – blood, tired, Impala

Implement: Belt

Type of story: Gen

Warning(s): Spoilers for seasons 1 and 2 of Supernatural; strong violence; spanking

Sam studied the notes he had made, frowning slightly. He glanced briefly over at his brother – who was cleaning the weapons – and then back at his research. Of course, he knew what the creature was. The killings had all the classical signs of a werewolf. But something stopped him from telling Dean that immediately.

He didn't like this new version of his brother. He knew that Dean was grieving their dad's death, but it felt like Sam was gradually losing his brother as well. He didn't think he could handle it. When their dad had been off on one of his many hunting trips, Dean had always been there for him. When he'd been offered a place at university, Dean had talked him into leaving; tried to stand in between his brother and his father.

The two people who meant the most to him.

Now, though, Dean was little more than a stranger. He'd even hit Sam when they'd taken on the vampire case. It didn't make Sam feel any better that Dean had refused to stoop to killing Lenore after she'd proved that she wasn't like the rest. His own brother had hit him. Sam could deal with a spanking – since he'd certainly deserved some of those during his years – but other than that, Dean had never raised a hand to him.

How could he get through to his brother?

Sam closed his eyes and pressed the heel of his hand against his forehead. Great. Now he was getting a headache. That was the last thing he needed right now. Actually, hunting was the last thing he felt like doing. All he wanted right now was to lie down somewhere and just let out all the grief and pain.

But with the way Dean was acting, Sam feared his brother would see that as nothing more than weakness.

"You found anything, Sam?"

Sam closed his eyes briefly, wondering why it seemed like they were drifting so far apart now. Even though he claimed to hate being called, 'Sammy,' he really didn't mind. In fact, Dean had been using that nickname less and less.

He just couldn't handle it anymore. Something had to give; and if talking to his brother didn't work, Sam would act up until Dean had no choice but to pull himself out of his hole and do something about it.

He needed his big brother back.

"Sam."

Sam met his brother's gaze, hoping that nothing of what he was thinking was showing on his face. "It's a werewolf, Dean. Why don't you get the Impala ready, and I'll sort out loading the guns?" In a way, Sam hoped that his brother would realise that he was making a plan to cause problems – but if he did, it didn't show on his face.

Dean nodded slightly. "Be ready in five minutes." With that, he walked quickly out of the room, letting the door slam closed behind him.

Sam sighed and closed his eyes briefly, wondering how wise his decision was. But if something didn't change – and fast – he would lose his brother forever. He didn't need any psychic abilities to tell him that.

Sam picked up the guns they were going to use – but he left Dean's gun unloaded. Since proper preparation of weapons was one of the things that had been drilled into him almost from the cradle, it was guaranteed to be one of the only things that would get his brother's attention.

As he walked out of the room, Sam tried not to dwell too much on just what Dean's reaction was going to be.

"If you get blood on my car, I will kill you."

"Hey! It wasn't my fault!" Sam protested, trying to work out just how Dean had managed to get the gun loaded with proper bullets, while he'd been left with the one without bullets. Could Dean have known...? No; that wasn't likely at all. His brother was in a very bad place right now, but Dean definitely wouldn't just leave it if he knew a weapon hadn't been properly prepared.

Either way, though, he definitely knew now.

"I don't want to hear it," Dean warned, his hands clenching on the steering wheel. "There was no excuse for that," he raged. "You didn't load the damn gun, Sam! What did you do, just pick up the first one you found and didn't bother to check it was loaded? I don't know why you'd make such a stupid, amateurish mistake...!" His voice trailed off, and he cast a sharp glance at Sam. "Unless, of course, it wasn't a mistake."

"Give the man a prize," Sam muttered, before he was able to stop himself. Realising that antagonising Dean really wasn't the best thing to do right now, he pressed his cut hand closer to his chest, wincing visibly in the hopes that Dean wouldn't get angry with him while he was obviously wounded.

Obviously, it didn't work. Dean narrowed his eyes, and then swerved the car, parking alongside the road. "For your sake, I hope you didn't just say what I thought you did."

Sam rolled his eyes. "What are you, blind as well as oblivious?" He managed to spare a thought to the fact that he really didn't know when to stop – or maybe he was just trying to ensure that Dean was mad enough to deal with him. Of course, he was now starting to wonder if this had been such a good idea after all.

"Don't think you're too old to go over my knee," Dean said in a low voice.

Sam flinched, shrinking back slightly even though it was dark and the road was more or less deserted. Surely Dean wouldn't... Okay, so he'd messed up really badly. But he was expecting Dean to give him a good scolding, not... He couldn't even think the word. He glanced away, unable to meet his brother's intent gaze. "It seemed like the best way to get your attention."

"And you didn't think you could talk to me, rather than endanger yourself for no reason?"

"I've been talking to you!" Sam glared at Dean. "You haven't been listening to me. So yeah, maybe I had to resort to doing something drastic. But really, it's all your fault."

Dean raised his eyebrows. "I'd love to hear how you worked that one out."

"If you hadn't been ignoring me, this never would have happened." Sam folded his uninjured arm across his chest. "You're not the only one who misses him, Dean. I don't expect you to cry or whatever, but... You're starting to feel like a stranger to me," he admitted in quite a low voice. "I need my brother, Dean. Not whoever you are now."

"I..." Dean started to say something, but then apparently thought better of it. He glanced out of the window, then back at Sam. "So you thought you'd get me back by putting yourself in danger? Really, that wasn't a good way to get my attention – because you have it; but not in a good way."

Remembering what Dean had said a moment ago, Sam flinched. He knew that Dean had been deadly serious with the threat, but he'd really been hoping that his brother would think it was unnecessary.

Apparently not, though.

"Dean, please. You don't need to do this." Even though it was useless to change Dean's mind once he'd decided to punish him, Sam still made the effort to. "Can't we just call it quits?" he asked. Now that he finally had his brother back, he really didn't want Dean's first task to be dealing with him.

Dean grimaced. "Apparently, Sammy, I do need to do this. You can't just do something dangerous to get my attention. I know that you've been in pain as well since dad died. I've just been so wrapped up in my own that I haven't seen that you need me to step up and be the big brother again."

"But I'm hurt...!"

"Last I checked, you were wounded in the hand – not your bottom." As he spoke, Dean removed his belt and doubled it over. When Sam opened his mouth, Dean continued, cutting him off, "It's pretty much deserted here – and having to sit on a sore bottom on the way back to the motel will definitely remind you that there are better ways to get my attention. Now, you really don't want me to force you over my knee."

Sam wanted to protest further, but he felt almost overwhelmed by relief that he was finally getting some attention from his brother, even if it was negative. Besides, the last thing he needed was to be thinking about the punishment all the way back – and he needed Dean to step back into the role of big brother. Slowly, he started to lean across his brother's knees; but Dean stopped him with a hand on his arm. "You'd better go across from the other side, since your legs are so long."

At least it was night time, so there were hardly any cars around – but Sam still felt his face heat up. Any person driving by would be able to see him getting punished; and what if it started to rain? But he didn't dare argue with Dean.

Not now that he finally had his brother back.

Slowly, Sam opened the car door on his side, walked round, and – after opening the door on the driver's side – lay across Dean's lap. It wasn't the most comfortable of positions, but his bottom felt very vulnerable. At least Dean left his trousers up – but Sam knew from past experience that that wouldn't lessen the pain.

"If I catch you doing anything like that again, Sam, I'll give you a spanking that will make this one seem like pats." Not giving Sam a chance to respond, Dean raised the belt and started thrashing him.

"Ow...!" Sam winced as the hard licks continued. Though he managed to stay still, he couldn't help the grunts and gasps which escaped him each time the belt landed. It felt like his bottom was on fire after only a dozen, but as the belt continued to fall, Sam felt the tears slip out of his eyes. He didn't struggle, but his breath caught on sobs. When he finally went limp, the thrashing stopped.

"It's all right." Dean rubbed Sam's back. "I'm here, Sammy. Just let it all out."

Hearing Dean call him, 'Sammy,' reassured Sam like nothing else could. Still, he continued to sob, all of the pain and guilt coming out all at once. He'd never felt so connected to Dean before.

Above Sam, Dean wiped surreptitiously at his own eyes. When he thought he could speak without his voice trembling, he said, "I hope you realise now that endangering yourself was the worst possible way to get your attention. If I hadn't been so quick, you could have been killed!"

"Actually, it was your gun which was supposed to be unloaded," Sam admitted without thinking.

"What?"

The End