While quite able to stand on its own, this work is technically part of my All Around Me au. In Heart That's Healing, Sam tells the reader a story about a memory from his childhood. I had thought it would be fun to write the full story at the time, but was unsure if anyone would be interested. Edge_of_Clairvoyance (from ao3) encouraged me to go for it and gave me some great ideas to get me started, as well as agreed to beta for me (and did a marvelous job)

This story describes the spanking of a minor both with a hand and the use of an implement (belt). The author does not condone the discipline method shown here in real life and if it will offend or distress you please do not read it.

Sam is 8, Dean 12 at the time this story takes place.

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Sam drummed his heels on the side of the bed. His narrow shoulders were hunched and his eyebrows drawn in a scowl as he listened to the sounds of the shower through the thin motel wall.

The water abruptly shut off with a squeal and Sam's drumming stopped even while his scowl deepened. He could feel his heartbeat pick up, but it only served to harden his resolve.

It felt like forever, but it was more likely only a few minutes before Dean emerged from the bathroom in his pajamas still toweling off his damp hair. He paused with a frown as he caught sight of Sam, but returned to his task with a gruff, "Thought you were supposed to be getting ready for bed."

Sam took a breath and squared his shoulders. "I'm not going to bed."

Dean snorted, "Very funny, Sam. Bathroom's free, better get moving."

Sam decided to keep his mouth shut and just waited, one of his legs jiggling slightly with nervous energy.

As Dean reached to hang the towel on the back of the bathroom door, his eyes caught Sam's and he paused. "What's up, Sammy?" he seemed more appraising than annoyed.

"I'm not going to bed."

"Yeah, you said that. You gonna tell me why you think you're not going to bed?"

Dean was still keeping his cool, his gaze searching his like he was trying to read Sam's mind. Somehow the calm response rankled and Sam's reply was sharp. "I don't want to!"

Dean's eyebrows drew into a scowl of his own, but his voice was still light. "C'mon, Sam, don't be a baby. Just get into your pjs. We can watch tv for a little before bed if you want. Your pick."

"I'm not a baby, and I don't want to watch tv."

"Jeez, Sam, what's going on with you?"

"I'm going to the movies."

Dean's eyes widened and gave an incredulous chuckle, "You are, huh? Dad would have a cow if you left the motel. Just stop messing around and-"

Sam clenched his fists at the mention of his dad and he finally exploded. "I DON'T CARE! Dad was supposed to be back so we could go to the movies today. He promised!"

Dean pulled back at the venom in his little brother's voice, but seemed relieved to know what was going on. He moved as if to put his hand on Sam's shoulder, but Sam shifted away so Dean let his hand drop. "Dad just got stuck finishing up the job, you know that. He couldn't help it; he'll make it up to us when he gets back."

"He can't make it up - not to me!" Sam's breath hitched, but he swallowed back the impending tears and grabbed onto his fury with both hands. "He's always breaking his promises! If he doesn't care about doing what he said he would do, I don't have to care about his stupid rules!" he leapt from the bed and stood seething for a minute.

Dean did the thing where he moved between Sam and the door without looking like that's what he was doing. "Well then, I'll make it up to you. I'll make sure to take you first chance, kay, Sammy? Just get ready for bed."

Sam could feel a little of his anger deflate against his will. He knew none of this was Dean's fault. His brother would keep his promise or die trying. He tried to resist, but he could feel his determination waver, if only the smallest bit.

"C'mon, Sam, don't be a baby."

It was said with a teasing smirk, an invitation for Sam to respond in kind; maybe throw a pillow at his big brother in retaliation, but it hit him exactly wrong, looking for an excuse to stay mad as he was.

"I'M NOTA BABY! I'm going out, and you can't stop me!" he tried to dodge around and race for the door, but Dean dove, slamming into him and bringing him to the floor.

"SAM! Quit it!"

"NO! Let go of me!" Sam tried to bring an elbow up, but Dean maneuvered to pin him.

"I'm not letting you leave the room, Sam."

"You gonna tie me up? I'm going no matter what you do!"

At that Dean sat up a little so he could look Sam in the eye. "You're serious. Look, it's dangerous to be out at night, can't you just wait til morning? I'll go with you. Please, Sam?"

Sam felt his lip threaten to tremble and didn't trust his voice. His adrenaline was up and he didn't feel like he could back down now, as much as he wanted to. He wasn't able to get good leverage with Dean mostly on top of him, but he managed to kick Dean in the leg with enough momentum to cause his brother to get mad for the first time. "You little- ! You better settle down and get ready for bed if you know what's good for you!"

"Or what?!"

Dean got himself back under control, but his voice was scary. "You try to go out that door again, I'm telling Dad when he gets back. If you leave the room, I'm gonna follow you and bring you back. You try to sneak in the theater, I'll make sure you're caught." He shoved off the ground and stood over Sam glowering, "Just go to bed, Sam."

Sam stood, a little shaky with adrenaline and anger. His blood seemed to pound in his ears and he knew Dean was right and he should probably just give this up and go to bed, but he'd been stewing all day, holding out hope his dad would pull through. He'd put off getting in his pajamas, because what if Dad was just running a little late? It was clear, now, that Dad wouldn't be back in time, had probably never even planned on coming back in time.

Sam felt like a sucker for believing him. For hoping. He wanted to get back at his dad somehow. To prove he didn't need him. He couldn't back down now. He couldn't just be the dummy following Dad's rules when he had let him down so badly - again.

He turned and acted like he was heading to the bathroom, his eyes lowered so Dean hopefully wouldn't see what he was planning. Out of the corner of his eye he saw his brother relax slightly even though he never took his eyes off him.

As Dean moved to sit on the bed, Sam took his shot. He ran for the door, throwing it open just as Dean grabbed him around the waist. He landed another kick, this time connecting more solidly with his brother's shin, causing Dean to loosen his hold enough that Sam was able to make it another three steps before a hand clamped around his arm above his elbow.

Sam ducked backward trying to use Dean's forward momentum to weaken his grip, but he was ready for it and it was only partially successful. Dean dodged another kick before a quiet voice caused them both to freeze.

"What the hell is going on here, boys?"

Dean snapped to attention, his hand didn't leave Sams upper arm, but his grip became more supportive than restricting. Sam held his breath. In times like this he'd learned to keep his mouth shut and let Dean talk them out of trouble. It didn't cross his mind this was going to be any different until Dean's eyes darted down to meet his expectant gaze. There was something wrong in the brief glimpse he got of the expression lurking there.

"I was trying to stop Sam from leaving the room."

Sam could feel his mouth open in surprise and clamped it shut.

"He said he wouldn't go to bed and he wouldn't listen to me. I shouldn't have let him get out the door, I'm sorry, Dad."

Sam's stomach churned with nerves and betrayal. He was too concerned with what his dad's response would be to fully process his disbelief that Dean had thrown him under the bus like that. He shook his brother's hand off his arm and Dean let go without resisting, unable to meet Sam's gaze.

"Let's take this inside."

At John's command, both boys wasted no time scooting through the door. Their father followed after, securing the latch and dumping his duffles on the floor, before turning to face his sons.

"Sam, you wanna explain why you were disobeying your brother and trying to leave the motel room in the middle of the night?"

Sam tried to find some of the self-righteous anger that had fueled him through the argument and following scuffle with Dean, but found most of it drained away from the shock of Dad's sudden appearance, and Dean selling him out. "You - I - I wanted to go to the movies. You said we could go tonight."

His excuse sounded pathetic even to his own ears and his stomach did another flip as his dad's eyes narrowed.

"I said I would take you, not that you could go by yourself in the middle of the night. I also said not to leave the room until I got back, didn't I?"

There was only one acceptable answer. This was not looking good for him. He focused on the scuff mark on his shoe and managed to keep his "yessir," pretty even, he thought.

"And did Dean tell you to stay inside and get to bed like you were supposed to? Look at me when I'm talking to you."

He forced himself to meet his dad's gaze. "Yessir."

"But you didn't listen to him, and when he tried to bring you back you fought him and kicked him, is that what I was seeing back there?"

"Y-yes, sir." He could no longer keep the tremble from his voice. His dad's stern expression and forced calm did not bode well.

"Alright, Sam. You've got two minutes to get in your pajamas and get your nose in the corner, there, while I decide what to do with you."

Sam suddenly couldn't speak around the lump in his throat, but as soon as he could get his legs to work, he rushed to obey, hoping that would count as an appropriate response.

John turned to Dean who looked vaguely ill. "I'm sorry, Dad, I should have kept him in line. It was my fault."

"Not this time, Dean. Sam knew the rules, and he admitted you tried to stop him. He's going to learn to respect your authority when I'm gone, I'll make sure of that."

"But-"

"You go on to bed, Dean. You're dismissed."

"Yessir."

Sam had his nose in the corner before his dad turned around. He could hear Dean walk over to the far bed they shared and crawl under the covers. He still couldn't believe his brother had done that. Dean always protected him, even taken punishments that should have fallen to Sam or finding some way to get in trouble too if he couldn't get Sam out of it.

He dropped that train of thought when he realized Dad was crossing the room behind him. He didn't think he would just start smacking him without warning, but it still made him uncomfortable. It sounded like he was rearranging the duffles, bringing them over closer to his bed and taking a few things out of them. He sat on the bed with a sigh. That was the last noise for what seemed like an eternity. It dragged on until Sam was ready to scream, beg his dad to just punish him already and get it over with.

"Come here, Samuel."

If there had been any doubt before, his dad's grim tone coupled with his formal name meant his ass was toast. He shuffled over, trying not to look like he was stalling. His eyes met his dad's no-nonsense gaze and just like that, he wished he was back in the corner.

"I'm gonna go out on a limb here and say you know what you did was wrong. Am I mistaken?"

"No, sir."

"Good. Pants down; bend over."

Sam hooked his thumbs in the elastic of his pajama bottoms and whisked everything down to his knees as fast as he was able. He was afraid he would lose his nerve, and anyway, Dad did not look kindly on any attempt to forestall a punishment.

He started to bend over his dad's lap and his dad helped guide him over.

There was a second where all Sam could hear was his own rapid heartbeat and then he was gripping his dad's pant leg trying not to start crying out already. His dad didn't believe in drawing out a punishment. Every swat was breathtaking and they rained down on his bare bottom until he lost count and sobbing gasps were punched from his throat against his will. The gasps turned into yelps and small whimpers as his whole bottom all the way to the tops of his thighs was covered and re-covered with burning sting. Abruptly it stopped and Sam tried to muffle his leftover cries into the denim.

"When I tell you not to leave the room when I'm gone, I think you know I expect to be obeyed. More than that, I expect you to obey Dean when I'm gone. Do you understand me?

"Y-yess-ssir."

"Insubordination has never been something I tolerate. You seem to have missed that lesson, but I plan to fix that oversight right now. You're getting five with the belt, Sam. Scoot over and bend over the bed."

Sam was struck numb with shock. He'd gotten a couple licks with the belt before, but never so many and never after his ass had already been set on fire with a thorough spanking. He tried to move, but nothing was cooperating. Thankfully, Dad seemed to know he was trying and helped him over to the bed without tacking on any more punishment.

"I swear, Sam, I'd better not be hearing about anything like this happening when I'm gone ever again." there was a sound of clinking metal and the swish of leather on denim behind him.

"N-no, s-s-sir. I promise."

"I'm going to make sure of it. The next five times I leave you two alone, I'm going to give you a reminder with my hand. You fail to heed that reminder and I'll be adding licks with the belt. Now you keep still, don't be putting your hands or your feet in the way."

Sam didn't have time to sort through the implications of everything his dad was saying, he was busy trying to regulate his breathing and not panic. He grabbed the scratchy blanket for dear life.

He managed to keep quiet for the first two licks, clenching his teeth and then gasping a breath. The third one caught him on the underside, searing his behind and the very tops of his thighs at the same time and he cried out. The next was laid right underneath the one before, and his cry turned into sobs. The last blow hit him fully across the middle of his bottom, overlapping where the first two had hit him and he yelled into the bedspread.

He was vaguely aware of his dad sitting on the bed next to him, one hand resting on Sam's head. He didn't particularly want to be touched right now, but he was too sore to protest and just lay limp until his sobs subsided.

"Do you need help getting to bed, Sammy?"

"No, sir," he was pleased that while his throat was hoarse, his voice was steady. His knees were less so, but he managed to remain upright while carefully pulling his pants back up and gingerly making his way to the bathroom.

He got a drink out of the faucet and let the metallic tang of the water soothe his throat and quench his thirst. He rubbed the last trace of tears out of his eyes. Everything had gone so wrong. He hadn't proven anything to his dad, he hadn't been sorry for breaking his promise - hadn't even gotten the point. Sam was still the sucker, only now his bottom was burning and throbbing. Maybe if Dean had had his back -

He gripped the edge of the counter top. He wouldn't start crying again, Dad would hear and he didn't want him to think it was still because of the whipping. Besides, he was too tired and he didn't feel like he had any tears left.

His dad was sitting on his bed watching the tv when Sam came out. He didn't look at him and Sam was relieved. He wished he could just be alone, but the cramped motel room didn't allow for that. He was dreading sharing the bed with his brother after what Dean had done, but there was no other choice, if his dad caught him dawdling he'd get himself in more trouble.

Dean was turned toward the wall on the far side of the bed. Sam knew he was awake, but he didn't move or acknowledge him as he got under the covers.

The tv droned on for a while and his dad got up to go to the bathroom. The bed shifted behind him and Sam felt a hand on his shoulder. "Sammy?" Dean's voice sounded small and it was so quiet he wouldn't have heard it if it hadn't been whispered directly in his ear.

He let the silence drag on a while. "What?"

"I, I'm sorry, Sam. I didn't know he was gonna be so hard on you. You okay?"

Sam kept one eye on the bathroom door and hissed as loud as he dared. "No! I'm not! Just leave me alone, I don't want to talk to you - traitor!"

The hand left his shoulder and the bed shifted again. Then, so quietly Sam could barely catch it, came a muffled, "'m sorry."