A/N: An incredible thank you to just-another-busy-fangirl for beta-ing! I was so desperate to get this story posted and she just whipped through it and she is literally amazing.
I hope y'all enjoy. The story is complete, but I felt like posting it in smaller, bite-sized bits. :)
Please review and let me know what worked, what didn't work, and how I can improve.
Thanks!
Dean had just gotten back to the motel, but he could sense the tension from a mile away. The walk home from school had been long – longer, it seemed, than usual. "Sammy?" Dean called loudly as he entered open room. "Sammy, you in here?" He tossed his book bag on to the bed that he and Sammy shared.
John growled lowly from the sofa. "Sam is in the bathroom." He shut the book he was reading, then looked over to his oldest. The boy was seventeen, but large for his age. Of course, that may have been in part due to the rigorous training regimen that he had the two boys on. His youngest was never particularly enthusiastic about training. While Dean damn near jumped at the opportunity for physical exercise, Sam would bitch and moan without fail.
"Sam is in the bathroom," John repeated, a bit quieter this time, and he continued, "Your brother fucked up royally today and I told him to stay there. Not sure I would control myself if I saw him right now."
Dean walked toward the closed bathroom door and sighed. He could hear very quiet crying, which made Dean upset. His brother must have been really worked up over getting his ass whooped. Sammy sure as shit knew how to piss off their dad, Dean thought. The two of them butted heads all the damn time, and it drove Dean insane. Sammy never listened to their dad. It seemed like Sammy loved nothing more than getting his ass handed to him, so Dean wasn't sure why he was quite so up in arms today.
"So what did he do this time?" Asked Dean with a small chuckle. There was rarely a day that went by without Sammy doing something idiotic. Usually, it was small. Maybe he would stay too late at the library and miss training, or he would 'forget' to clean the weapons. Some times, it was more serious. A few months back, Dean remembered walking in on Dad wailing on Sammy for swearing at the clerk in the supermarket. Sammy deserved it, though... He always did.
Again, John gave a low growl. "He decided to go and tell his teachers that he lives with his brother, alone, in a fucking motel room." He paused and let out a heavy sigh through his nose. "Child Protective Services was here for about two hours. Thank God I got home last night. If I hadn't, you and Sam..." He paused once more, but this time he rested his head in his hands. "Dean, I don't know what I'd do if I lost you boys."
Dean sighed. He knew the severity of what his brother had done. Fuck, even he wanted to beat the shit out of his younger brother. "Dad, look, I know he... I know we're not... Dad, he's just a stupid kid."
John interrupted, shaking his head, "No, Dean, this is way more than being just a stupid kid. I mean, stupid he fucking is, but this is more than that. Your brother damn near got both of you boys taken away." John stood up, then, with a clear determination in his eyes. He unthreaded his belt from its loops, making a rasping sound which caused Dean to cringe.
"Dad, come on. Don't whip the kid. You've never given him the belt before! Just..." He stepped in front of his father, who was already making his way to the bathroom. "He's prob'ly just looking for attention."
"He's about to get some more of it, then, isn't he." The words were spoken without emotion.
"More of it?" Dean cocked his head, unsure of what his father was implying.
John motioned to the bed where Dean had carelessly thrown his backpack. He watched as his son glanced over and the horrified look spread across the boy's face. The paddle already lay on the bed.
The realization spread over Dean's face. His brother wasn't crying because he was scared of getting whooped. He was crying because the thought of taking another beating on top of the one he'd already had was too much for the kid. "Dad, you can't beat him twice."
"I'm not going to beat your brother, Dean. Have I ever beaten either one of you boys?"
Dean wasn't sure how to answer that. It sure as shit felt like a beating when he was getting his ass handed to him. Still, he knew their father was never unfair. He always had a damn good reason when he whooped a boy's backside. "No, sir, but -" Dean was cut off quickly by his father's sharp tongue.
"No 'buts', Dean, except for Samuel's over the bed in ten." He said this a bit louder, so that his youngest would hear him.
Sam heard his dad and cried louder. He had been in the bathroom for what seemed like forever. Dad had already told him that he would be getting a second ass whooping, but he didn't know when it would be. Now, knowing, he was terrified. There was no way his ass could handle it. He turned around and pulled his shorts down just enough that he could see his bright red backside in the mirror. And bright red, it most certainly was. He had a small bit of bruising, but nothing too bad. No bleeding, and not even a welt. He knew that Dad could have gone a lot harder on him, but he chose not to so that he could wear Sam out a second time. He felt the guilt tearing at his heart. He knew that he deserved to have his ass beaten. Dad was never real big on whooping, but he sure as shit did it when it was deserved. And Sam knew that it was deserved.
"Dad, please... Can't you let him off this one time?" Dean begged, feeling his heart constrict.
"'This one time'?" John repeated incredulously. "I have let him off way more than I should. Sam needs to be taken down a notch, and that is fucking exactly what I intend to do. If nothing else I've done is going to get through to him, I am going to make damn sure that this does."
"If you want to get through to him, then you need whip me." Dean didn't think before he spoke. The words were instant and unwavering. There was no way that Dean could handle Sammy being spanked again. He knew his baby brother was hurting, and he would do anything to keep more pain from coming to the kid.
John laughed heartily for a moment, appreciating the bit of levity that Dean always managed to bring to situations. He was a bit surprised when Dean didn't chuckle along with him. When he looked at Dean's face, though, he saw no levity in the boy's face. "Well, shit. You're fucking serious, aren't you?" All the lightheartedness that John had felt for that moment fled in an instant.
"As a heart attack, Dad." He inhaled deeply and hoped that his father would agree. He couldn't stand the thought of his baby brother getting his ass whooped twice in one day.
John looked at Dean, scrutinizing the boy. What kind of angle was his son playing? John Winchester may have been an asshole at times, but he wasn't one for playing mind games. He always had a damn good reason for whooping his boys. The idea of whooping his oldest – who, for once, had done nothing wrong – in order to deter his youngest from misbehavior was insane. "Dean, why the hell would you suggest something like that?" The tone in John's voice was unlike him. Proud, all knowing John Winchester was reduced to a mess of confusion in that moment.
"Because I know that if you gave Sammy a whoopin' for something I did wrong, I sure as shit wouldn't do it again. Hell, I'd be a fucking altar boy after that." He paused, closing his eyes for a moment. Dean could not imagine the shit he'd feel like if his baby brother – his Sammy – got his ass whipped because of him. Dean couldn't even stand the thought. He knew there would be no greater deterrent for Sammy from further disobedience.
"You're right, Dean," John stopped the boy from getting lost in his inner thoughts by putting a firm hand on his shoulder. He dropped his belt at his side and slowly, gently reached out and took Dean's coat. "I am not going to lose you boys." He had clearly seen the change in Dean's behavior and he agreed. Beating Dean's behind would be the best way to get through to Sam.
For his part, Dean didn't protest when Dad took his coat. He didn't protest as Dad silently led him over to the bed that the boys shared. He was surprised when he felt Dad's hand on his shoulder again, and he heard the belt hit the bed with a clinking sound. Dean turned to look at his father, who embraced him tightly.
John had one strong hand on the back of Dean's neck and the other began to card through the boy's hair as he crushed the boy to his chest. He pressed a gentle kiss to Dean's forehead, but kept the embrace tight. "I am so proud of you, son," he whispered.
Dean reveled in the praise and the touch. Dad had never been a real 'touchy-feely' kind of guy. Even when they were kids, Dad had never been a real hugger. Dean knew that was always pretty hard on Sammy. His brother never got a whole lot of hugs as a kid. Dean was always the one to rock Sammy to sleep when he was a baby. Dean was always the one to comfort the boy when he'd had a nightmare or a boo-boo or damn near anything. Sammy was one fussy little kid.
"Thanks, Dad." Dean's voice was soft. Even at seventeen years old, Dean wished he could stay in his father's arms forever. It was a comfort that he wasn't often given. He gave a smirk as he pushed away, worried that his dad might think he was being childish for remaining in the hug. "Enough with the chick flick stuff, huh?" He chuckled mirthlessly before bringing the conversation back to the present. "So, uh... how we gonna do this, Dad? I bend over and you, uh, hit your thigh or something to make it sound all big and scary?"
"No way, Dean-o." John gave a small, apologetic smile. "You didn't do anything wrong, so if you want to call this off, you call it off now. But once we start, we're not stopping. I'm not going to go easy on you. This will be the same whipping I intended to give to your brother. The kid has to learn the consequences of his actions, even if he doesn't physically feel them."
Again, Dean closed his eyes and sighed. This was going to fucking suck. But after a moment of self-pity, a determined, toothy grin spread across Dean's face as he spoke, "Bring it on, Dad." He held his arms open in a grand gesture of submission.
