Title: Bringing Down The House
Author: Capricorn1986
Characters: Bobby, John, Dean (16) Sam (12)
Summary: Dean is bored with doing research, and his pestering of Sam results in a massive fight between the boys that leave Bobbys living room a complete wreck.
Warning: Contains spankings of minors by a parent

Bringing Down The House

Having the Winchesters crash as his place for a few days, was always a welcome pleasure for Bobby Singer. However, this day in late July, would always stand out clearly in his memory.

Twelve-year-old Sam Winchester gave his brother an annoyed glare. Dean chose to ignore it and continued humming loudly as he aimlessly flipped the pages of book he was holding.
Sam sighed and turned his attention back to the book in front of him, trying hard to shut out the sounds his brother was making.
Although John`s youngest son took no interest in training, research was one part of the hunter lifestyle he usually didn`t mind participating in. Sam was always thirsty for knowledge, hungry for understanding.
Dean was the opposite. He loved training. It kept him lean and strong, and it proved a great way to impress his father. Dean was equally hungry for his John`s approval as his brother was indifferent to it. But sitting still for hours at a time with his head buried in books was not a task that proved easy for the eldest Winchester son. His lack of concentration was one thing, but his teenage hormones just made him so damn restless.
Dean had no interest or motivation for research that day, and so all his attention and efforts were devoted to annoying his brother, and loving every minute of it.
He continued humming, discontent with not getting a proper reaction from Sam. He began tapping his fingers against the table, which quickly sparked a reaction in his brother.
"Dean!"
The sixteen-year-old ignored his brother once more, knowing that would only make Sam more irritated.
"Can you please stop that?" Sam asked. "I`m trying to read, and so should you."
Dean did halt his annoying activities and pretended to be deeply emerged in the research. Not because his brother had told him to, but because John Winchester came into the living room and stood next to the table where the boys were seated.
The hunter dropped a hand to Sam`s dark brown head. "How is the research going, boys?" he asked.
"Fine," Dean muttered innocently, hoping his father wouldn`t inquire further about what they had found out so far.
"Yeah," Sam snorted.
John raised an eyebrow.
"Dean`s not helping," Sam muttered. If Dean was going to be annoying, then Sam would get back at him by being childish and tattling to Dad.
"Looks to me like he`s busy," John remarked as he gazed upon his eldest who was staring intently at the book in his hands. The corner of the man`s mouth twitched as the teenager demonstratively turned the page.
"Yeah, busy being a pain in my a-"
"Sam," John warned.
The boy pressed his lips together angrily.
"I`ll leave you boys with the books," John said. "You can spend some of your energy later on doing some training."
He knew his eldest especially would appreciate that.
"OK, Dad," Dean said, and once again turned a page in his book.
John was in a good mood. "Fast reader, aren`t you?" he teased.
Dean`s head shot up to meet his father`s gaze, but was relieved when the hunter winked at him above Sam`s head. Dean grinned shamelessly.
"Research first, training later," John added seriously to his eldest son, making him understand that John expected Dean to put as much effort into reading and learning as he did with running and shooting.
Dean nodded to show he understood. But understanding is not equal to complying, and as soon as John had left the room, Dean punched Sam on the arm.
"Ow!" Sam rubbed his arm where Dean had hit him. "What`s your problem?"
"You is," Dean hissed.
Sam scoffed. "Nice grammar, Dean. If you bothered to read more, you-"
Another punch brought Sam to silence.
"What the hell was that?" Dean growled. "Ratting me out to Dad like some snotty five-year-old? Trying to get me in trouble, you little snitch?"
"I think you can manage that fine on your own, Dean," Sam replied sarcastically while rubbing his arm. He hated admitting it, but Dean`s punches really hurt, even when he was just playing around. When he was angry, he could hit really hard.
The boys turned their attention back to the books. They sat in silence for a little while, Sam reading, Dean pretending to.
It didn`t take long before Dean picked up where he left off on annoying Sam. There was no way he was going to let that go, not after what Sam did.
Dean stretched, his bones cracking. He let out a long sigh.
Sam did not even look up, but seemed very interested in what he was reading, even picking up a pencil to take notes.
Dean leaned back on his chair, making it balance on two legs. The chair was old and squeaked under the boy`s weight. Dean smiled and began tilting the chair back and forth, producing a constant squeaking sound.
He could see the jaw of his little brother clench and tighten as he gritted his teeth, trying to stay calm.
Squeak.
Squeak.
Snap! The pencil Sam was holding broke in half and he gave his brother an icy glare. Dean just grinned as he continued to tilt the chair.
Squeak.
Sam`s breathing grew heavier.
Squeak.
Dean`s grin grew wider.
Squeak.
Still Sam didn`t move.
CRASH!
The chair suddenly caved. The two legs supporting Dean`s body weight snapped and the boy crashed to the floor, hitting his head hard.
The pain and humiliation of the fall was only made worse for Dean when he heard Sam laughing loudly, having no concern for his brother.
Dean`s anger flared up, and he sprang up from the floor.
"Don`t you dare laugh at me!" he yelled, and pushed Sam so he fell off his own chair and down on the floor.
Sam was on his feet in a flash, and lunged himself at his older brother.
Dean was strong, his muscles hard. All the hours of training had made sure of that. And at sixteen, he was raging with hormones, which made him even stronger.
Being four years younger than his brother, Sam had had way less time to train, not that he had much interest for it in the first place. But now he was furious, and the anger and adrenaline made him strong enough to put up a proper fight against Dean.
The boys were soon down on the floor again, this time locked together, their arms and legs a blur as they were punching and kicking each other. Sam quickly found himself pinned down, struggling hard to get Dean off him. Before the older boy could aim a punch to the youngest face, Sam put his knee in Dean`s stomach, making him roll over on his side and try to catch his breath. Sam stood in the middle of the living room, momentarily frozen in shock, scared that he had hurt his brother. He may have been angry, but Sam would never purposefully injure Dean.
Suddenly Dean grabbed one of the many books lying around Bobby`s living room and thrusted it towards Sam. The younger boy ducked, and the book flew clear across the room and through a window. Sam spun around sharply to look horrified at the broken glass, but in the same moment, Dean got off his feet and moments later both boys were once more rolling on the floor.
While all this was happening, John Winchester and Bobby Singer were outside, quietly talking and each enjoying a cup of coffee. It was the sound of the window shattering that made them realize the boys were up to no good, and as the two men entered the house they heard a deafening crash that sent them running to the living room.
When the hunters took in the sight of what was happening, they both stood horrified. It took them only a second to take in the damage to the room: A broken chair, a shattered window, the table knocked over, books scattered everywhere and one bookcase had fallen down.
And one pair of Winchester sons was fighting furiously in the middle of it all.
"BOYS!"
The loud roar of John Winchester made both his friend and his sons jump. Dean and Sam immediately stopped fighting each other and got on their feet.
The boys stood, panting and looking nervous as hell as their father entered the room and approached them.
"Dean, report."
Dean waited a moment to catch his breath before speaking. "Uhm..." he said, not really sure what to say. This whole thing had after all been his fault, but he was not looking forward to telling his father that.
"I`m waiting for an explanation," John growled.
Dean felt bad. His Dad had been in a good mood earlier, now it was all ruined because of him. He tried his usual, smart-ass response to try and lighten the mood: "Funny story, actually." He tried smiling, but it came out as a weird grimace.
Next to him, Sam quietly shook his head.
John`s gaze burned as he looked at his sons. They both looked unharmed, save for some bruises and Sam had a cut on his lip. With the state the living room was in, things could have gone much worse. The boys could have cut themselves on the broken glass, or even have the bookshelf fall on top of them. John wondered how on earth his boys could be so reckless. They would both be sore in the morning, but John would make sure it wasn`t just their muscles that ached.
"We`re really sorry for wrecking your living room, Bobby," the boys said.
Bobby didn`t said anything, and when John asked him to give him and the boys some alone time, he happily complied. He knew what John was about to do, and he knew the boys deserved it, but he sure as hell didn`t want to stick around to watch. Hearing it through the broken window would be enough.
Now that they were alone, John once more turned to Dean.
"Now that you don`t have an audience you have no one to impress with your smart-ass mouth," he snarled. "So cut the crap and tell me exactly what went down in here."
And Dean spilled everything. He told his father how he had neglected to do research and how he had pestered Sam. He explained the reason for the broken chair, and how he had thrown the first punch that started the fight. He also said that he broke the window, and that Bobby might want to retrieve one of his books from outside. In conclusion, he told his father, everything was his fault, and Sam was not to blame for what happened.
When Dean was done talking, John turned to his youngest. "Is that true?"
He knew that his sons, and Dean especially, would take the blame in order for John to spare or go easy on the other brother.
Sam, not wanting to add lying to the fact that he had fought Dean and taken part in trashing Bobby's living room, nodded.
John turned his gaze once more to his guilty-looking eldest. "Dean, wait in the kitchen until I call you."
The hunter saw worry in his sons emerald eyes. Not for himself, but for his little brother.
"But Dad, I`m the one to blame for this."
"Oh, you`ll get your turn," John assured him, though his words hardly could have offered much comfort to Dean. The teenager went into the kitchen, leaving Sam alone with their father.
From where he was standing and nervously waiting in Bobby's kitchen, Dean could hear everything that went on the living room. A short murmured exchange between father and son, and then it started. Dean winced at the sharp sound of hand meeting butt. And if the noise Sam was making was any indication, John was spanking him on the bare from the get-go.
Dean walked over to the sink. He washed his hands, carefully taking his time. He wanted desperately to drown out the sound of his brother being punished. The water splashed in the basin and trickled down Dean`s fingers, just like tears in the same moment begun trickling down Sam`s face.
Dean wiped his hands on a towel. He stood in the middle of the kitchen, momentarily closing his eyes.
"Stupid," he muttered to himself. If he had just done the research as Dad had told him to, Sam wouldn`t be placed over Dad`s knee right now, and Dean wouldn`t be waiting to get his ass tanned. Oh, and Bobby most likely wouldn`t have gotten his living room wrecked either.
Things finally quieted down in the other room. A few minutes went by.
Dean jumped when his father barked his name. He walked slowly into the living room, dragging his feet and keeping his head down.
Sam was standing in a corner, facing the wall, jeans and underwear around his ankles, exposing a painfully red bottom.
John was sitting on the sofa, one of the few parts of the room left unharmed by the boys' rampage. His eyes were dark and serious. He patted his thigh meaningfully.
Dean groaned inwardly. After he had reached his mid-teens, spankings for Dean had become fewer and further between.
"Dad, I`m sixteen," he said, in an attempt to convince his father to come up with a different punishment.
"Your point?" John replied dryly.
"Don`t spank me?" Dean said, hoping he looked cute.
"Dean, you will always be my son, your age is irrelevant."
The teenager pressed his lips together, feeling defeated.
"Now get over here," John commanded. "Jeans and underwear down."
Dean did as he was told, and was pulled over his father`s lap.
"It`s been a while since you found yourself in this position," John said, "And I for one hope that it will be a while until next time."
Dean wanted to say that he hoped so too, but before he could speak, John began laying dozens of stinging swats upon his naked rear, and Dean drew his breath sharply, gritting his teeth as a burning heat slowly begun building with each stinging slap from his father`s hand.
From his position, Dean was unable to see his little brother in the corner. Sam stood, feeling the fresh sting from his own spanking, and pitying his older brother as he had to listen to his punishment.
John`s palm was stinging by the time Dean broke down and a sniffle escaped his lips.
Sam was relieved, believing his brother`s spanking to be over. A couple of moments of silence passed, then Sam suddenly jumped at the loud noise of smacks once again raining down on Dean`s behind, although the sound was different than before.
The twelve-year-old curiously stole a glance across his shoulder, wanting to know what was going on. He realized his father was spanking his older brother with a book!
For Dean, being spanked with a book was a completely new experience, although not one he enjoyed or wanted repeated.
Feeling that his hand had not left a good enough impression, John had seized the one implement he had readily at hand: One of Bobby`s countless big, leather bound books. As he made it connect with his son`s naked posterior, it produced a fairly loud smack.
Being on the receiving end, Dean felt his already burning skin turn into an inferno as the book came down a good dozen times. He began kicking his legs and squirming on his father`s lap. He just couldn`t help it, the pain was too great.
At last John halted the blows, and let Dean cry. After the teenager had calmed down, his father helped him to his feet.
John offered Dean a smile, which the son returned through his tears. The hunter ruffled the hair of his eldest.
"I love you, Dean."
"You too, Dad," Dean replied weakly.
After both boys had gotten dressed again, John sternly told them to begin cleaning up the mess they had caused.
No sooner had John left the room before Sam quietly remarked to his brother: "Dad really made you feel the power of the press, huh, Dean?"
At hearing the sound of a punch being thrown, John returned to the living room.

THE END