AN: Warning, story involves corporal punishment. Ok, I am sure a lot of you are going to find this really harsh and a little over the top but I couldn't shake the feeling that something like this happened to Dean based on his tone and facial expressions during that statement. I don't think John abused his kids but I do think that Sammy running away pushed John over the edge and I do think he lashed out at the only person he could at the time; Dean.

The phone vibrating on the bed next to his leg pulled John back to reality. He had spent the past twenty minutes flat on his back just staring up at the ceiling; thinking about Mary. His eyes rolled to the nightstand past the empty bottle of Jack Daniels to read the time; 1:30AM. Whoever the hell was calling him at this hour better have a damn good reason or a death wish.

His voice was thick from the alcohol and callous as he flipped open the phone ignoring the caller id screen. "Winchester."

"Dad?" The voice on the other end sounded young and scared.

"Sammy?" he asked sitting up his father sensors suddenly tingling. There was an uneasy silence.

"It's me Dad; Dean." He finally responded his tone a little deeper but still only slightly above a whisper.

John's heart sank; something was wrong. This was not the voice of his full-of-life, cocky, eighteen year old son and Dean did not call at this time of night unless there was an emergency; ever. He could barely choke out the question. "What's wrong son?"

Dean's voice hitched. "I..I don't know where he is Dad."

"Where who is Dean; what's the matter?" he demanded more comfortable with frustration than fear.

"Sammy."

"What about Sammy; where is he?"

"Gone."

Anxiety began to course through John body as he jumped from the bed and started grabbing stuff, throwing his measly few belongings into his duffle. He trapped the small phone between his shoulder and his ear as he went about tearing his research from the walls. "What do you mean gone? Dammit Dean; what the hell's going on??"

Another uneasy silence radiated through the phone and John was losing his mind, not to mention patience. "DEAN. ANSWER ME!"

His boy was practically sobbing now; his voice breaking with every word. "I don't know where he is Dad; I've looked everywhere! I think he might……Oh God."

No, no, no, no, no, no; not my baby, not Sammy. "Did something take him? What happened Dean?" He asked frantically grabbing for his coat and keys.

He paused when he heard the deep, shuttering intake of breath; bracing himself for the absolute worst. He could barely hear the words.

"We had a fight."

Anxiety was suddenly replaced with confusion. "A fight? What are you talkin about??"

John could hear the hesitance in his son's tone. "Me n Sam; we got in a fight. I left to get some air; and….and when I came back; he was gone."

"You what??" John asked his voice seething with disbelief; his frenzied preparation for a fast exit at a momentary standstill.

Dean's voice was flat and emotionless as he stated the facts again. "We fought; I left; he bolted. He's gone Dad; he just left."

Confusion was suddenly replaced with anger. "I'll be there in five." he said darkly snapping the phone shut and heading out the door.

Five hours later the familiar roar of the Impala's engine had Dean's stomach lurching. He peeled back the faded, musty curtains to try and gage the severity of the storm he was in for. His father looked dirty, tired and pissed off which never equated to anything good in Dean's book. Dawn had just started to rise and it was the start of his fourth day of no sleeping or eating. He had run through the argument a thousand times in his head; over and over and over again. It had been no different than any of the other arguments they have had in the past. Sammy was complaining about Dad disappearing for weeks at a time; whining and longing for a normal life; Dean telling him to quit his bitching and drop it already; that Winchester just didn't do "normal". They had been through it a million times before and it always ended with either Sam locking himself away in some room or Dean storming out for some air or both. The only difference this time was when Dean came back with pizza and beer; his version of a peace offering; Sammy was no where to be found. No sign of a struggle, no note, no nothing, just gone.

He had spent the first two day tearing apart the town looking for him. He tried every friend he knew of, every hangout he could think of, every alias his brother went by. By the end of the third day he had checked the police station, the bus station, the train station, all the hospitals and the morgue; nothing. It was after that he decided it was time to call John.

His father didn't bother with his normal protocol of passwords and caution as he entered the room. He slammed the door open and went straight for his target who he found frozen by the window. His oldest was only two inches shorter but a good thirty pounds lighter. At least he was when John had left a week ago; that thirty could easily be forty now from the looks of him.

"Start talkin" he said gruffly but not cruel. He needed to get a full understanding of the situation and he needed some answers so he could determine what course of action he needed to take.

As the story unfolded so did John's frustration at his two boys. They knew better; he had taught them better. They didn't have time for petty shit like this. Obviously the lesson hadn't sunken in as deep as he thought; he'd be sure to rectify that with both of them. He had left Dean in charge with specific orders for both of them. School, homework, research, training, eating, sleeping. Fighting and running away were most certainly not on the list.

Dean's shoulders slumped, almost in a relief like fashion as he finished his side of the story; the weight of carrying the full burden of Sam's disappearance gone. There were always three sides to a Winchester tale such as this; Dean's side, Sammy's side and the truth which John very seldom got to without busting some ass. But one thing he was sure of; Dean had abandoned his post and shirked his responsibilities over a stupid fight with his kid brother and that was inexcusable in John's book.

Halfway through Dean's explanation he had placed his heavy hand on the slim shoulders before him. John squeezed tighter and he posed his next question; needing to validate what he thought he had just heard.

"So you just left." He asked nodding his head knowing already the answer before he heard the confirmation.

Dean let out a sigh of defeat; resigning himself to the imminent repercussions of his actions. His eyes were empty as he lifted them to meet his father's. "I'm sorry." Came the deflated reply and John felt his control weaken.

"You're sorry? That's all I ever hear from you boy. I'm sorry, I didn't know" he said in a mocking tone as he began to pace back and forth trying to contain his temper. "Well sorry isn't good enough; not this time." He said rounding on his son; angry. He leveled a hard poke onto Dean's chest. "I left you in charge Dean. Your orders were to look after your brother; not pick a fight with him and then abandon him to do God knows what. You were in charge; I trusted you; and this is what you do?" John shook his head in disgust. I am so disappointed in you Dean. You were reckless and irresponsible and now Sam's missing because you.

The words sliced through Dean's heart like a knife and he dropped his head in shame. He couldn't find the words.

John stood and stared at the boy in front of him; his heart wanting to comfort him but his hands itching to throttle him. "How long?"

Dean swallowed hard. "Three days."

"THREE DAYS??" John exploded. "And you just called me now? What the hell were you thinking?"

"Dad; I.."

"Enough!" John bellowed. "I don't want to hear it." He needed to find Sam and he needed to start now. "Get you ass in the car now; MOVE!" He said grabbing his arm and propelling him towards the door. He got all of two steps before John noticed the empty beer bottles on the table. He yanked him back hard.

Dean yelped in pain as his father's fingers cut into his bicep. His breathing quickened as fear washed over him. He had only seen his father this mad twice before after John had gotten massively drunk. He was uncontrollably dark; his temper unpredictable; his strength insurmountable. Sammy had never seen that side of his father and Dean never spoke of it to him.

Fire was now burning in his eyes and his tone was murderous. "You were drinking? Your brother is out there God know where and you've been sitting around here getting drunk?" Dean tried to explain but John didn't want an answer he didn't care about the reason. All he could think of was Sam out there alone; unprotected.

Something inside him snapped as he grabbed his son's neck ignoring his desperate plea "No! Dad! Please; listen!" and dragged him to the table. In one fluid motion he slammed him down; his cheek hitting the wood with a solid smack while he unbuckled his belt.

The quick sound of the leather slicking through the loops of his father's jeans made vile rise to Dean's throat he was too afraid and beaten down emotionally to fight back. He wasn't a stranger to getting his ass handed to him; hell both he and Sammy had plenty of "trips to the woodshed" with the old man over the years but this time was different. Dean could feel the anger emanating off his father.

The first lick had Dean's hips bucking into the table the instantaneous throbbing tearing through his body. His father was ridiculously strong and he wasn't holding anything back. The second followed immediately and caught him right on top of the first. Dean clenched jaw and shut his eyes tight as the white hot pain shot through him again. Tears began to stream from his eyes and he gasped in pain. Without skipping a beat John laid down two more licks that seemed to slice straight through the denim covering Dean's backside; the boy sobbed in agony.

John stopped for a moment his chest heaving with heavy breaths. Angry and fear were boiling inside him and before he could register what he was doing he lit into Dean again. Over and over again the belt fell each lick harder, more vicious than the one before. Dean roared in anguish by the sixth one and John stopped just as suddenly as he started. Throwing the belt down onto the floor he hoisted his son back up. His face was blotchy and wet as the tears continued to stream down his now bruised cheek. He had never felt so much pain in his entire life and it was all he could do to keep his knees from buckling.

"Don't you EVER do anything so stupid again; do you understand me?" His voice broke.

All Dean could muster was a head nod. He was so weak and shaking so uncontrollably that if John didn't have such a tight grip on him he would have collapsed to the floor.

John stood there water beginning to well in his own eyes as he took in the sight of his son. His anger and frustration now turning into sorrow and fear. The boys were all he had left and the thought of losing one or both of them to something as stupid and trivial as a fight had his blood running cold. The reality of what he'd just done hit him like a tidal wave.

"Dean; son; I'm sorry I…." he began and Dean just lost it. Days of fear, anguish and pain came flooding out and he collapsed into the arms of his father; sobbing as if his entire world was breaking into a million meaningless pieces; broken. He clung to his dad; the only source of strength he had left, in desperation.

John wrapped his arms around him tight, supporting his boy physically and emotionally; his own emotions getting the best of him. "We'll find him son." He choked into his hair. "You have my word Dean; we'll find him. I'll bring Sammy home."