"Daddy, I don't want to wear those pants. I want the pink ones!" Sammie had just turned four and Dean wondered what all the stir was over the terrible twos while he was dealing with the fucked-up fours. He'd gladly go back to the twos any day.
"Sammie!" Dean's voice was harsh to get her attention. "Stop kicking your legs and let me get these pants on you!" Sammie laid on the bed thrashing as if an unseen force was attacking her. Her legs scissored up and down.
"No! I hate that kind!" Whatever that meant, Dean thought. They were the same friggin' pants in a different color.
"Dean!" John Winchester paused at the end of the bed. John had been busy carrying bags out to the car because they needed to hit the road. Sam was across the street grabbing breakfast for the road for the four of them. "What the hell is the problem here?" Dean looked from his screeching daughter to his dad, back to his daughter, and then back to his dad.
"I can't get these pants on her. She wants the pink ones but hell if I know where they are."
"I hope you aren't being serious." John stared at Dean sternly waiting for confirmation.
"Dad, dressing her is like dressing a damn octopus. I can't get her to be still!"
"Dean." Dad was using the no-nonsense voice. "Sammie is four. You are the parent here. Take charge of this situation. Understood?"
"Yes, sir." John continued out the motel room door to the car with their bags.
"Sammie, stop your kicking and put these pants on. Now!" Dean used his best angry tone to scare her into compliance. Dean tugged one leg on but Sammie was having none of it, She rolled to the center of the bed, thrashing the pants off, kicking like a mule. Dean tried to regain control when Sammie's foot crashed into his chin. Dean stumbled back onto the floor ... Right into the path of John Winchester.
John tripped over Dean but righted himself before he too tumbled to the floor where his oldest son sat stunned and rubbing his chin. John gave Dean a death look and shook his head in annoyance. John stepped over Dean and pulled Sammie by her legs to the edge of the bed. John lifted her legs and swatted the backside of her panties a half dozen times with stinging, hard swats. Sammie shrieked at the first slap and was howling by the sixth. John brought his hand back as if to spank again but he paused and looked Sammie in the eye.
"Do you need more, Samantha?" John asked in a loud but composed voice.
"No, Poppa John, no more spankin'!" Sammie wailed. The kicking had ceased and she was rubbing her little fists against her crying eyes.
"Stand up!" She immediately complied with John's order, standing on the bed. When he pointed to the spot in front of him, she covered her butt with her hands without moving to him.
"Now, Samantha, unless you want another swat." Sammie went to John right away as Dean watched from the floor. John picked up her pants and held one leg hole open.
"Step in." She put her foot in. John held open the other leg and looked at her which was enough to get her to put her other leg in. He pulled up her pants all the way, while she continued sobbing. John lifted her into his arms and she immediately wrapped her little arms around his neck and cried into his shoulder. He rubbed her back with one hand and patted her bottom with his other, her legs wrapped around John's waist.
"You're okay, Sammie. Calm down. You're okay."
"Poppa John, you hurted my heinie." Sammie cried.
"I know. A spanking is supposed to hurt your heinie." John looked at his grand-daughter. "Tell Poppa John, why did you just get spanked?"
"I was bad girl?" She asked him, her small palm against his neck. He sat down on the bed with her and sat her on his lap.
"No, Sammie, you aren't a bad girl. But sometimes you misbehave. Kids that misbehave get punished. Do you understand that?" She shook her head no.
"Well, let's try this. Do you like when I spank your butt?" She shook her head with an exaggerated no.
"Answer me like a big girl, Sammie." John was gentle with his reminder. After all, she was only four.
"No, Poppa John, I don't like spanks."
"When your daddy or me or Uncle Sam tells you to do something, you need to do it. Not if or when you feel like it. You do as we say when we say and you won't get spanks. Do you understand me?"
"Yes, Poppa John." Sammie answered coyly.
"Good girl." John kissed her forehead and she snuggled against his chest fisting his shirt.
"Now, I want you to get up, go over to your dad, and apologize for kicking him in the face. And if I ever see you do anything like that again, you'll get a real spanking over my knee with your panties pulled down. Do you understand me?" He held her chin so she faced him.
"Yes, Poppa John." John pointed to Dean. Sammie jumped down from John's lap and went over and sat on Dean's as he sat cross-legged on the floor watching the interaction between his dad and his daughter.
"I sorry, Daddy. I not kick you ever again." Sammie hugged Dean and Dean hugged her back. John stood and pointed at Dean.
"That is how it is done, son. You need to get with the program and start taking responsibility for your daughter. It is your job to raise her right, Dean. Understood?"
"Yes, sir." John picked up the last of the bags and headed back for the door. "We move out in ten. Do a final check of the room." John headed out to the car. Dean turned to his daughter and wiped the remaining tears from her cheeks with his thumbs.
"You okay, Sammie?" Dean asked.
"I don't like when Poppa John spanks." She said sadly.
"Yeah, I never did either, Sammie. But Poppa John spanks you because he loves you."
"Does that mean you don't love me, Daddy?" Her eyes filled with tears again.
"Of course Daddy loves you, Sammie. Why would you ask me that, baby?" Dean smoothed the straggly hair away from her face.
"You said Poppa John spanks me because he loves me. You don't spank me. Does that mean you don't love me?"
"Baby, listen to me." Dean pulled his daughter close. "The truth is, daddy should have spanked you not Poppa John. Poppa John is not too happy with me either because that is my job and I didn't do it."
"This is all your fault, Daddy." Sammie huffed crossing her arms. Just then Sam walked in with breakfast, saw Sammie's grumpy face, and smirked.
"What's the matter, Sammie?" Sam asked her. Sammie reached her arms up to him and Uncle Sam swung her onto his hip.
"Poppa John spanked me because of Daddy!" She declared seriously pointing at Dean. Dean made a WTF face and shrugged.
"He did? That happened to me once or twice too, kiddo." Sam carried Sammie to the door of the room and turned back to his brother.
"Only a jerk would get his own kid spanked, Dean." Sam had a knowing smile on his face, when he turned and walked to the car leaving Dean alone in the room still sitting on the floor.
"Bitch." Dean mumbled before getting up and following his brother.
END