Conflicts

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

Summary: Kind of an added scene to Asylum. Sam feels guilty about what happened with Dean, and subconsciously pushes his brother into punishing him

Warning(s): Spanking; possibly some slight ooc:ness; and I don't know if brotherly love counts?

Author's Note: Enjoy!

Sam lay on his back in the bed, staring at the ceiling. He didn't want to sleep, even though he actually felt pretty tired. He knew that, the moment he fell asleep, his sleep would be plagued by nightmares.

And not just nightmares about Jess now…

Sam could hear the soft sound of his brother breathing heavily in the bed next to him. Sam wanted more than anything to check the marks on Dean's chest from the rock salt, to see just how bad they were.

But Dean had rebuffed any attempts at that, just like he'd rebuffed any attempts Sam had made at explanations and apologies.

Every time I close my eyes, I'll see myself shooting Dean – only, this time, the gun will actually be loaded.

Oh, Sam knew well and good that he probably deserved to suffer. He deserved to be punished for the pain he had managed to put Dean through. It was just that having nightmares would mean more and more sleepless nights for him, which would make things even worse between him and Dean, since he would be pretty much useless to his brother.

Hah. Like he was of any use now.

The worst thing is that I can't even say that that wasn't what I was really thinking… Cause those thoughts have gone through my mind. But I wouldn't have ever said them, and certainly not like that.

I definitely wouldn't have tried to shoot Dean, either…

Dean groaned softly in his sleep, and Sam winced at the sound. Dean hadn't forgiven him, and Sam was fully aware of that fact. It wasn't like he deserved forgiveness, either. But he hated the way Dean wouldn't even look at him, hated the way that Dean hardly spoke to him, and had only been calling him 'Sam'.

It's Sammy Sam thought rather forlornly.

It would probably be better if I wasn't around at all…

With barely a glance at the sleeping Dean, Sam straightened up to his feet. He grabbed a sheet of paper and a pen, and scribbled a quick note, before leaving it in a place where Dean was more likely to see it.

Then, the younger Winchester simply walked out of the motel room… and out of his brother's life again.

Dean winced at the bright sunlight that all but pierced through his closed eyelids, and started to sit up to close the curtains. The sharp pain that stabbed through his chest quickly put paid to that idea, and Dean stayed where he was. "Sam, close the curtains!" he ordered, not caring if his brother was asleep or not.

When there was no response, not even the sound of Sam getting up, Dean let out a sigh, and cracked one eye open, giving a single glance around the room before realising one very important thing.

Where the hell is Sam?

Dean pricked his ears up, but couldn't hear the shower running or anything like that. Wincing, he sat up, putting a hand to his chest with a silent gasp of pain, but all of that was forgotten when his eyes fell on the paper folded neatly next to his bed. Sam… Now what have you done?

Dean reached out, and picked up the sheet of paper. Then, he carefully unfolded it.

The first thing that Dean noticed was the tear stains on it, blurring the ink a bit. Frowning to himself, Dean read, and, with each word, grew angrier and angrier:

Dean.
I'm sorry to do this to you. I'm running away again, but I think that this is better, for you anyway. Since the asylum, I know that you're unable to trust me anymore, and I don't blame you. I don't know how to convince you that I don't hate you. I could never hate you. You're my brother, my only brother, and I wouldn't pick anyone else.
I'm sorry that I brought the pain to your eyes…
Sam

Dean crumpled the note into a little ball and threw it across the room before standing up and heading out of the door, going to find his wayward brother.

Sam sat at the table in the café, staring dejectedly at the cappuccino and doughnut he had ordered. It had been even worse to leave Dean this time. No matter how much he tried to justify this to himself, it still felt like he was abandoning his brother.

Again.

Pity Dean's not here, Sam thought unhappily. He'd get a kick out of all of the pretty waitresses. Thinking about how Dean would be reacting in this situation just made Sam feel even worse.

He felt awful about what had happened…

So running away again is just going to make everything better? a niggling little voice said inside Sam's mind.

Shut up, Sam told the voice.

"Hey, have you seen my brother?" a familiar voice suddenly said in Sam's hear. "He looks sorta like you, only geekier."

"Dean?" Sam looked up into his brother's dark eyes. "What are you doing here? And how did you find me?" he demanded.

"Wasn't so hard," Dean replied, then smacked the back of Sam's head. "You jerk… Mind telling me what's got into you? What the hell were you thinking of to just disappear like that?!" He smiled at a dark-haired waitress who glanced in his direction, and then turned his attention back to his brother. "Well?"

"Didn't you read my note?" Sam asked, biting his lip slightly.

Instead of answering, Dean hauled his brother to his feet, and tossed a few dollars on the table to pay for his meal. "Let's talk back at the motel," he said, and gave Sam a shove in the direction of the door, ignoring the pain in his chest from where the rock salt had hit him. "Out."

"I'm not a dog," Sam muttered, but moved quickly, not wanting to risk aggravating his brother's wounds. Also, he would prefer not to be shoved all of the way back to the motel, thank you very much.

Dean unlocked the door to the motel room, and waited for Sam to enter, before walking through as well. He had barely closed the door behind him before he shoved Sam in the back, knocking him face-down onto the bed.

"Dean… What are you doing?" Sam attempted to get up, but stopped as he felt Dean's hand resting on his back, almost as a warning. "Dean?"

"We're dealing with this," Dean stated firmly, pushing Sam down so that he was bending over on the bed rather than just lying on it. "Like it or not, you knew that this would get my attention. And you know full well what Dad would have done had you pulled a stunt like that."

Sam knew exactly what Dean was talking about. He could have pulled himself away from his brother with some force, but he didn't want to hurt Dean even further. Besides, a part of him almost knew that he needed this. "But… I'm too old," he tried.

"If you act like a child, I'm going to treat you like one." Still holding Sam down with one hand, Dean used the other to start spanking his brother hard and fast. "It wasn't your fault that Ellicott possessed you," Dean stated as he spanked, knowing that he should have made this clear before. "I know that you would never have tried to kill me ordinarily."

"It was my fault!" Sam insisted, wincing with every sharp smack.

Dean shook his head slightly. "Wrong answer, little brother." One-handed, he deftly undid Sam's jeans, and tugged them down to just below his brother's knees. These were quickly followed by Sam's briefs.

Sam sucked in a breath. "Dean?"

There was already a pink flush to Sam's bottom from the spanks over his jeans. Dean made no response to Sam, and began smacking his hand down hard on his younger brother's bare bottom.

"Ow, you jerk!" Despite his words, Sam stayed exactly where he was. In a way, a part of him actually felt like he deserved this punishment. He wanted to be hurt for what he had done to Dean. But still… Dean's hand was way harder than Sam remembered. "That hurts!" he exclaimed.

"It's supposed to," Dean responded tersely. Then, as if he was reading Sam's mind, he continued, "By the way, Sammy – this isn't a punishment for what happened back in the asylum. This is for the way you handled it all. Do you have any idea what it would have done to me if something had happened to you?!" As if responding to his anger, the smacks he was raining down on Sam's bottom grew harder, landing with sharper smacks that probably echoed even through the closed door.

Let the others wonder what was going on. Dean was more concerned with making sure that Sammy never did something like this again.

Sam was pretty much helpless to do anything to protect himself against the burning smacks, at least without hurting Dean. He was hearing his brother's words, but he didn't want to listen to them.

It had to be his fault.

Dean was fully aware of what was going through Sam's mind. He felt for his brother, he really did. He had been a pretty useless brother in that he had let it get this far without doing anything about it.

It wasn't a mistake he would continue to make…

"I can continue doing this all day," Dean told Sam. "Believe me, you'll get tired of it long before I will." When Sam still remained silent, save for a few quiet sniffles, Dean aimed some stinging smacks to the backs of his upper thighs. His hand was beginning to feel quite sore, and he could only imagine what Sam's bottom had to feel like.

But Dean still knew that Sam was trying to connect this spanking, this punishment, to what had happened at the asylum.

With a sigh, Dean moved his hand towards his belt, and pulled it through the loops. With the pain from the rock salt still in his chest, the older Winchester brother wasn't sure that he had the upper body strength to continue for much longer. But there wasn't any other way around this…

"Dean, please don't," Sam whispered, hearing and dreading the sound of his brother's belt being removed.

"Then tell me that you understand," Dean replied simply, pushing Sam's upper body further down to the bed, forcing his dark pink bottom to thrust upwards.

Sam shook his head, crying quietly, and said nothing.

Dean doubled the belt over, and brought it down hard across the middle of Sam's bottom, feeling physically sick at both the sight and the sound. Tell me, Sam. Please. When there was no response, Dean brought it down hard three more times, and realised that he himself was crying. Not much, just a few tears. But it was enough. He couldn't stand seeing his brother in pain.

Please tell me that you understand, Sammy… Don't make me do this to you anymore.

After about ten blows with the belt, Sam finally cracked. He sobbed brokenly, apologising over and over again, and begging for forgiveness.

Dean dropped the belt to the floor, and suddenly found himself with an armful of Sam. "Of course I forgive you, Sammy. I always forgive you."

Sam shuddered and wept in Dean's comforting embrace. He hadn't allowed himself to cry in so long… But now, he realised that he didn't have to be strong with his brother. He could allow himself to break down… And Dean could put him back together. Just like always.

When Sam was finally calm again, Dean helped him to lie down on his stomach in the bed. He still stayed by his brother's side, though, even after Sam had finally slipped into an exhausted sleep. Tomorrow, both of them would deny that this had ever happened.

But Dean would always be there for his brother… and he was now confident that Sam knew that.