Dean felt a sense of satisfaction as his fist connected with the boy before him's face. 'Serves you right, you little bitch," he thought gleefully, rearing his hand back and busting the boy's nose before punching his jaw, watching with satisfaction as blood spurted from the wound his fist had made. That was gonna hurt a bitch, Dean mused, feeling no remorse whatsoever.

Dimly he was aware of the crowd parting and a strong hand grabbing his arm, halting his attack on his classmate. "Dean Winchester. Let Markus go, right now!" The depute, Mr Corely, ordered strictly. Dean paused before looking at the teacher defiantly, "No! He's a jerk! I'm gonna fuc-"

"Mr Winchester! That is enough. Regardless of what has happened, this behaviour is entirely unacceptable and will not be tolerated!" The teacher backed up this statement by forcibly removing the boy from Dean's grip, before taking Dean's arm and marching him through the cafeteria towards the Principal's office. When they arrived, Dean's teacher knocked briskly on the door before depositing Dean in the room after explaining to Mr Jimmison that Dean had given Markus Tawman a bust up nose and split lip because they'd been caught throwing paper aeroplanes and cheating in a test. "You may want to hear his side though; he certainly seems to believe he was justified…" Mr Corely announced taking his leave.

Dean suddenly realized where he was and groaned; Dad was going to kill him! So was mom for that matter… Shit! He turned to face the principal, preparing to explain himself, "Sir, I—"

"Dean. This school is very strict about fighting, and you know the rules. I know you do. We also have policies on cheating and passing notes. And the fact this all started because of some stupid dare at a party Dean? I am so disappointed in you; you're a much better student than this. Do you have anything to say for yourself, son?"

"When you put it like that? No sir," Dean sighed, "I'm sorry. He deserved it though, but I'm sorry for causing hassle."

The teacher sighed. "I'm sure your father won't see it that way, but I'll leave that for you to discuss with him. Come on, let's get this over with. Bend over the desk, Mr Winchester." Dean gulped before complying slowly. "Because of the multitude and severity of your infractions, Dean, you're getting fifteen with the paddle."

The teen gasped. "Please sir, not so many…"

"Dean, what you did was foolish and immature, and you could have seriously hurt Mr Tawman. I'm afraid to say that you have earned every single swat." With that, Dean felt the paddle connect with his backside and winced as a warm fire spread over his backside. The Principal paddle him in silence, spacing out each swat to make it more effective. Dean felt tears slipping down his cheeks on the tenth swat, and by the time it ended, his breathing was hitching and irregular.

Mr Jimmison stood him up to standing and put an arm on his shoulder. "No more fighting or cheating, understood?" Dean nodded, wiping his tears away hastily.

"I'm sorry, sir. I'll try to not let it happen again."

The teacher nodded and then sighed, "I still have to phone your parents to collect you though."

"Please, no…" Dean begged. "My parents'll kill me, and I'm meant to be going to a concert next Friday and Dad won't let me… Please?" Dean knew it was futile, but he couldn't help trying to preserve life as he knew it.

"Sorry, Dean. But because of school policy, I have to suspend you. I'll put in a good word with your parents,

but your suspended for the next two days. Come on while I phone. Your mother or father?"

Dean thought for a moment, "Mom." She'd be upset, sure, but she probably wouldn't spank him. And hey, maybe he could talk her round. After all, he'd just been paddled he thought with a wince, maybe she'd talk Dad out of spanking him… Doubtful.

The principal nodded and made the call, explaining the situation and upon hearing his Mary's promise that she would be there in fifteen minutes, sent Dean to wait at reception. Dean tried not to squirm as he sat on the plastic seating, and felt a sigh of relief when his Mom arrived. Until he saw her thunderous expression that was plastered firmly on her face… "Dean, get your things. We're leaving." She almost re-enacted his father's customary poppa bear growl perfectly. Aw damn.

The drive home was silent, despite the fifteen year-old's attempts to make conversation which were thwarted every time by his mother's simple, "Don't bother, Dean." When they arrived home, his mother sent him straight to his room, telling him that he could explain everything to his father when he got home that evening and that, aside from using the toilet, Dean was not to leave his room under any circumstances, or he'd have hell to pay. She finished her speech with three sharp slaps to his behind and he scampered, trying not to yelp at the pain it reignited.

Dean lay on his stomach on his bed for four hours before he heard the familiar sound of the impala pulling up in the driveway. Shit. He was so dead. For a moment, he considered making his crimes less serious, but he knew his mother would set his dad straight, and he was pretty sure Mr Jimmison had given her a handwritten note when they left about all Dean had done. No, he wasn't getting out of this. And yet… His butt already stung something fierce, maybe his Dad would give him some respite…

Dean began to panic when he heard his father's familiar tread on the staircase, and long before Dean was ready for it, there was a soft knock on the door, before it opened to reveal his father. Dean turned his head, which was resting on his folded arms on his bed, to look at his father, his eyes full of unshed tears.

John sighed at his son's forlorn look, and crossed the room to Dean's side, sitting on the bed and pulling the kid into a hug, "Hey… Shhh, it's alright, kid. What happened today? Are you okay? What happened at school? We can fix it, whatever's going on… Did someone hurt you?" John questioned concerned, confused by the blush that crept up to tinge his son's ears. Dean swallowed hard, keeping his eyes averted. John tried again, "Hey, buddy. I know about the fight. But, I want you to tell me exactly what happened for you to break the rules so seriously."

Dean sighed, he was so screwed. "I got suspended for two days for fighting with the fucking jerk, Markus Tawman today, he's got a bust up nose and split lip now… It was his fault though; he was making fun of Susie Lawson. Susie's this real sweet gal I know, who's been helping me with my work. She's dead beautiful, but she's brainy too, kinda like Sammy, so he thinks he can treat her like dirt. Anyway, he was kinda copying her in a test we had yesterday but being real nasty about it and I watched so I wouldn't accuse him wrong and he got us both caught, the retard! And I mean, she knows I copy her cause I just don't remember or understand stuff, he's just being a jerk though! And so I guess I kind of just got angry at him today when he called her a dense cow. I'm sorry, dad."

Dean had watched his father's facial expression become grim during the confession and John was silent for a moment, making Dean want to squirm. "First off, Dean. Get that language under control. You know you're not meant to swear, and since you were mouthing of at your depute head teacher today and swearing at him, this is your last warning. Do it again, and you might just be meeting some soap kid. You got that?" Seeing his son's nod John continued, "I can understand you wanting to protect your friend, bud, I can. But fighting Dean? Really? And in school? Come on. You're fists should never be the answer; there were plenty of teachers you could speak to. And as for the cheating? Why were you even cheating in the first place? You're a smart kid, and if you worked you could keep up with the work you get given. So, though I don't mind if she is tutoring you, you do not cheat by copying anyone, friend or not! Do you understand me?"

Dean tried not to let the tears fill his eyes as he murmured a quiet, "Yes sir." Utterly dejected.

"Okay then, you know the deal, Dean. You get in trouble at school, you get in trouble at home too. Because you got paddled, I'm going to spank you just now, kiddo. You're getting a bedtime spanking every night till your suspension's finished, and as of now, your bedtime is now half eight."

"What? But… Da-aaad!" Dean whined.

John glared at his son before continuing, "In addition to this, you're grounded for the next two weeks. That should be long enough for you to catch up on all the work you've not been doing or don't get. I will be taking your phone, and you will be doing the homework straight away when you get home from school. I will either check it when I arrive home from work, or your mother will check it, and when one of us has checked you're coping, then, and only then, you will be allowed to watch TV. However, I am also restricting you to a maximum of two hours television per day; the same applies to your use of the computer."

"But… two weeks? But Daddy, I have that concert next week… Please don't ground me!" Dean begged, distraught.

"Dean, you chose to not behave, and now you gotta suffer the consequences. You are grounded for two weeks, and that is final. If you're gonna keep fighting though, your bedtime can now be at eight for the next two nights. Then we'll go to half eight, and maybe after that we can change it back to your old bedtime, because this behaviour at school is not acceptable and your mom and I won't tolerate it, kid. Now, let's just get this over with so we can move on, okay?"

John beckoned his son over his lap, grimacing when Dean merely stood up unable to take the steps. He pulled his son to stand beside his legs, and pulled the fifteen year old over his lap, lowering his school trousers and underwear in the process, "Dad… Please…" Dean pleaded, tearfully.

"Shhh, I need to be able to see the damage so I don't really, really hurt you. I'm sorry, kid." With that John raised his hand and brought it down on his son's backside with a resounding slap, and his heart clench as his son flinched, the pain in his backside clearly already being reignited. He repeated the motion, smacking from side to side, holding back on the strength of the swats so as not to hurt Dean too much. He spanked in silence for a couple of minutes, soon able to tell that Dean was crying silently, his shoulders shaking with the effort to not sob out loud, and John moved his attention to Dean's sit spots and thighs, slapping them alternately. Dean's reaction was immediate and he wailed, squirming as the pain built up. "Daa-ddy! Pleaase! Please, I'm soo sorry!"

John landed fifteen slightly harder swats to his son's backside and stopped. Dean's backside wasn't especially red but underneath the slightly visible handprints, John could make out paddle shaped marks on his son's bottom. He sighed and rubbed the kid's back, encouraging him to calm down, "Hush, Deano. You're okay, it's okay, baby… Just calm down for me, I love you so much…" John rearranged his son's clothing and then pulled him up t his baby boy's lap, holding him close while he sniffled and whimpered until dinner was ready.

After dinner, John sent his son to get ready for bed and at half seven went to give Dean his bedtime spanking, feeling horrible for giving his son two spankings on an already sore behind. He held Dean until his son fell asleep before tucking the kid into bed and heading downstairs.

Dean's grounding passed without incident as Dean tried his hardest not to end up back in his dad's bad books again. His homework was becoming near immaculate, and he had been pointedly ignoring that Tawman basta… idiot to the best of his ability. He'd hardly seen Susie 'cause he'd been coming straight home after school, and he couldn't text her cause Dad still had his phone, which was pretty shit. But he was over half way, thank you, very much, and so he contented himself with keeping his head down and counting down the days until he had some semblance of freedom.

"Dean! Get ready, we're going out. Come on, quick!" Dean got to his feet and headed to the kitchen, eyeing his father with confusion. "Out? I thought I was grounded." He answered, more moodily than he intended.

"Dean, lose the attitude. Now, do as your told, young man, and get that backside upstairs and changed to go out, instead of those sweats, before I swat it up them stairs."

Dean gulped and ran up the stairs, throwing on his planned outfit for the concert he was no longer allowed to go tonight and sighed. Might as well go all out if Dad was making him get changed and presentable, he mused, loading himself with aftershave and fixing his hair. He was nearly sixteen, after all! He jogged back downstairs, "Ready, dad."

John nodded, "Good, let's go. I got a job to do, and you're coming with me 'cause you're Mom's taking Sammy to that kid's art show." Dean groaned at the mention of it and followed his dad out to the Impala. The first twenty minutes of the journey passed in silence before Dean started bitching about why couldn't he stay home and how the journey was taking ages and he didn't understand what the big deal was anyway.

"Kid, if you don't can it, I am going to stop this car and give you a few swats before I turn this car around and drive us straight back home where you can spend your night in the corner considering your little tantrum here." Dean shut up immediately.

The ride passed in silence after that and John looked over at his son, noting he had dosed off from the gentle movements of the car. Eventually the car stopped and Dean opened his eyes and looked at his father in confusion. "Dad, why have we stopped? Where are we? I don't get why…" His son trailed off as he realised where they were.

"I spoke to your Momma, and we agreed that because you've been behaving so well the last couple of weeks, and because I know how desperate you were to be at this tonight, we'd let you get your ticket back and come along. You got any money with you?" Dean shook his head, still totally in confused shock. "Here," John pulled out forty. "That should be more than enough, in case anything goes wrong, but you shouldn't need to be spending it. I guess you can get something from merch though, understood?" His son nodded, subdued and yet excited. "Right, go have fun. I'll pick you up here when the gig finishes, okay?"

Dean finally found his voice as he jumped out the car, "Thanks so much, Dad! I won't let you down!"

"Wait! Here's your phone, I'm taking it back at the end of tonight for the remainder of your grounding. And no drinking, young man. Now, go!"

"I won't, Dad! I promise" Dean grinned at his dad, before running elatedly into the queue for the gig after spotting his friends. John watched him go with a fond smile, waving before driving off to find a movie to go see while he waited for the gig to finish, hoping his son would stay out of trouble for a whole night without any supervision…