"You are afraid of me!"
Jack's voice was filled with despair.
"Well, I'm not!"
There was no uncertainty in Dean's voice, only someone who knew him as well as his brother would have been able to see the fear he kept tightly clamped.
Dean took two long steps over to Jack, who's eyes were starting to glow with power, grabbed the young Nephilim by the upper arm and shook him, hard, making him dangle like a ragdoll.
"Stop it, right now, young man."
The light in Jack's eyes faded in surprise at this unexpected turn of events.
"Now," Dean continued. "Shut up and listen to me. I know you feel horrible and guilty. That is part of being a human. Making mistakes and suffering the consequences of your actions. And this was one doozy of a mistake, you are going to have to pay for that, and I'm going to see to it that you do, right here, right now."
Jack looked up at the large angry man who was grabbing his arm so hard that it was starting to tingle from lack of blood.
"Are you going to kill me now?" He asked straightforwardly.
Dean shook his head. "No, you ijidt, I'm gonna do what my dad used to do when Sam or I made a f'ing mess on a hunt. And after we are done, you'll have paid the price and we can all move ahead on a clean slate."
Without letting go of Jack's arm, Dean hooked a foot around the leg of a chair and dragged it from the table, kicking it away. He turned swiftly, dragging Jack with him, and deposited the young man unceremoniously halfway across the tabletop.
Since Jack had made no move to stop any of this, Dean let go of his arm and unbuckled his belt.
Sam's eyes got wide as he heard the unique sound of a belt getting ripped away from a well-worn pair of jeans.
"Uhm, Dean…" he began, but Dean just shot him a look that was pure "big brother mode" and Sam decided that caution was the better part of valor right now.
Jack calmly looked over his shoulder at Dean, then down at the belt. "Are you going to use that to hurt me?" he asked, in a tone devoid of trepidation, holding only curiosity.
"Hurt?" Dean asked, "Well, I'm not going to harm you or damage you, but pain, yeah, there will be that. Probably quite a lot of that. But you will keep your powers under control, you are going to let this punishment happen. Oh, and keep a lid on those healing powers too, by the way. But when the punishment is over, you will be forgiven. As I said: clean slate. That's how it works."
Jack looked at Dean unwavering, simply answered "Ok" and turned his head to look down at the table.
Dean drew the belt back, but was stopped by a hand shooting out to grab his wrist.
"No." Cas said grimly.
Dean opened his mouth to protest, but Cas interrupted him.
"You said that this was how your father dealt with you. Well, I'm Jack's father, so this is for me to deal with."
Cas pushed Dean firmly aside, grabbed Jack's shoulder and hauled the youth back up.
"Come here."
Striding over to the chair Dean had pushed so conveniently out from the table, Cas shrugged out of his coat, tossed it to Sam, then deliberately started turning his shirtsleeves up to his elbows.
He sat down in the chair and repeated "Come here, son."
Jack moved hesitantly closer, obviously unsure of where this was going. Cas waggled a hand.
"Drop your jeans and underthings."
Having not had time to developed any of the human bashfulness Jack complied without protest, pushing jeans and boxers to his knees.
Cas reached out, grasped Jack's wrist and pulled him over his knees in a swift motion, that had Jack's hands shoot out to avoid banging his head on the floor.
Without wasting any time, Cas just tugged Jack securely into his body and started laying down heavy-handed slaps to the naked rear.
Jack flinched in surprise, but didn't try to escape the rain of slaps that shifted quickly from side to side, covering all his bottom, and the upper part of his thighs with handprints that soon flowed into a solid red color.
"Why are you getting spanked?" Cas asked conversationally.
"Because I killed the poor guard."
"Wrong answer, Jack. This is because you didn't listen to us, disobeyed our orders to stay put and put yourself - all of us in danger. While we appreciate that you were trying to help, you need to learn to listen and follow orders on a hunt."
As Cas spoke, his hand kept its relentless assault going and Jack couldn't help but start to wriggle a bit as the fire kept building and his skin blossomed into an angry cherry red. Never mind about Dean's order to keep his healing powers under control: The slaps were coming too fast for his powers to heal one before the next one came anyway.
Panic was starting to set in, his eyes started glowing and the air got heavy with pressure as his powers began to manifest.
Cas felt it too, and gave Jack a hard slap at the thin skin where thigh meets ass "Stop that young man," he said firmly, and kept slapping the same spot, just as hard, over and over.
Jack gasped, then suddenly punched the floor with a fist, getting himself under control, letting the fire in his eyes fade away.
Cas rewarded the effort by stilling his hand, shaking it a bit.
"Well done, son. But we are not quite finished yet."
Jack whimpered. It was not a very Nephilim-with-powers-beyond-the-imaginable-like sound, but there are unfortunately no other words that would accurately describe the sound he made at this announcement. It was undoubtedly a whimper.
"You see, this part was for not listening, for disobeying orders on a hunt. You are strong, but you are young, and are still learning, so you need to learn to trust us, and listen to us. Do you understand that?"
Jack nodded frantically, very aware that his rear end was still in close proximity to the surprisingly hard hand of his chosen father figure.
"Ok, then, please stand up" Cas gave him a helping hand to the shoulder as Jack got to his feet feeling rather dazed by recent events. Things seemed to be moving just a bit too fast for him to keep up.
Cas turned Jack firmly towards the table. "Bend over the table," he said implacably.
Jack shuffled the few steps over and bent down to put hands and elbows on the wooden surface. Not feeling quite as calm about the whole bending over the table idea this time, but still willing to do his best to be good and comply with this new side of being a son.
Cas held out his hand to Dean, who just stared at it in confusion. Imperiously Cas snapped his fingers and pointed to the belt. Dean jerked and looked at the belt as if it was something that had just dropped down from the moon to inexplicably end up in his hand. This situation was definitely moving a bit too fast for him to process too. He held out the belt like a robot, and felt its weight leave his hand as Cas lifted it away.
"How old are you now?" Cas asked, carefully shaking out the belt and doubling it up, getting a secure grip on the metal buckle.
"29 days, 7 hours and 46 minutes." Jack replied immediately.
"Ok, then, we'll make that a nice even 30."
And with that he swung the belt landing a hard stroke squarely across Jack's ass.
Both Sam and Dean jumped at the sound.
Jack yelped and shot into the air, pressing both hands to his rear.
"Get back down, son, and that one doesn't count."
Sam and Dean both winced and their eyes met.
Another smack, another yelp and jump.
"Still doesn't count. This is about learning control, so get a grip on yourself and get back over that table."
As Jack slowly bent forward again Dean said in a strangely gentle voice.
"Ya' might wanna get a hold on the table edge there, kid."
Jack reached over, but wasn't tall enough to get a grip on the edge across the table, choosing instead to grasp onto the edge on either side of his hips. That worked for a couple of strokes, until his hands decided to think for themselves, and desperately tried to cover his burning ass, while he twisted away from the pain.
"We are still at two, a long way to go," Cas said in a flat voice.
Shaking himself out of his frozen pose Dean strode around the table to sit down in the chair across from Jack's bent, trembling form.
Dean laid his arms flat on the table, holding his hands out. "Here, kid. Hold onto me."
Jack stared incredulously at him. Cas was about to protest, but Sam moved to catch his attention and did his patented puppy dog eyes. Cas relented and nodded when Jack shot him a quick glance.
Sam coughed and said: "Take his hands, Jack. No one will think less of you… Dean and I… we've both been, where you are now… and…we…"
Dean interrupted his brother with "If Cas is going to be the dad in this scenario, I figure I can be the big brother. Besides, otherwise we'll end up being here all night and I'm hungry."
This seemed to be the right tone to take, as Jack reached out and grabbed Deans hands like drowning man might grab onto a life float.
Dean gripped right back, then nodded at Cas, who started swinging again, the belt landing on skin that was already red and tender.
The belt dancing, Jack stamping his feet, jerking and gasping, Dean holding on.
The belt kept falling, rhythmically like a metronome.
Jacks eyes never turned color, but his breathing got ragged, he slammed his hips against the table and as the welts rose, his tears started flowing, gasps turned into sobs and he pressed his face into his shoulder to dampen the sound.
At that point he felt Sam's big warm hand land on his neck, large fingers rubbing gently behind his ears. Sam started counting, giving Jack the comfort of knowing how far, he still had to go.
18. 19. 20 lashes with a broad, heavy, doubled-up leather belt. They thudded into his backside until pain was an irrelevant word. His world contracted to the fiery pain, Dean's hands, Sam's hand, Sam's quiet voice keeping the count, and his own eyes, that was still stubbornly, desperately, human.
25. "You are doing great, Jack" 26. "Almost done."
The last 4 strokes came in rapid fire, all on top of each other right at the under-curve of his ass, one after the other, so quickly that Jack had no time to catch his breath between them. He arched up from the table, only Deans hands keeping him anchored.
Jacks mouth opened in a scream that was silent, as there was not enough air in his lungs, in the world, to make the sound that was trying to get out.
The belt landed on the table next to him, and his body flopped back down bonelessly. Dean let go of Jack's hands, but after a brief hesitation put a gentle hand on his forearm. Sam started rubbing circles on his back, then he felt Cas' hand like a benediction on his sweat-soaked hair.
"You did good, son. You did so good. You are forgiven, and I am so proud of you."
At this the sobbing came to an abrupt, surprised stop.
Jack pushed himself up, staggering a bit on shaking legs, staring around at the three faces that was his entire world.
"You don't hate me?"
"Of course not."
"Never."
"Not anymore."
"That was …. punishment?"
"Yes, it was. Punishment. Payment. And a lesson."
Cas pulled Jack into a hug. "And this, son, is forgiveness."
When Cas let go, Dean stepped around the table.
"Not hugging anyone until everybody has their pants on," he said firmly.
Jack bent down to pull them up – too swiftly, almost faceplanting. Sam's long arm reached out and caught his shoulder, steadying him.
Simultaneously Dean and Sam looked from the kid's welt-covered ass and thighs to each other, then to Cas.
Dean shuddered. "Wow, Cas. I'm sort of glad, you are not my dad, no offense," he added quickly.
"Yeah," Sam nodded, "I mean, getting the belt like that, and on top of that spanking. Ouch."
"Definitely ouch." Dean agreed.
Seeing that Jack had finally, gingerly, gotten his jeans up, although he had elected not to close the fly, Dean pulled him into a swift hug, shortly joined by Sam.
Dean stepped back to give Jack a playful shove, which almost toppled the young man. "Welcome to the family, Jack. Now, can we go eat?"
Jack looked from one to the other carefully "Do I have to sit down to eat?" he asked plaintively, making two of the three adults grin in sudden remembrance
"Nope, you get to stand at the counter," Sam said, as they started towards the kitchen.
Dean turned to Cas. "You got to tell me, man – where the Hell did you learn how to do that?"
Cas looked solemnly back at Dean: "I learned much from the pizzaman."
Jack never really understood why this made both Sam and Dean roar with laughter, but he didn't ask.