Yes, I know I epically suck balls for not posting sooner BUT I do have a legit reason. Not that you want to hear my sap story but I've been homeless, my mother was severely sick (still is) which has left me to take care of her, I've been severely sick myself, and I've somehow lost my job due to circumstances that were beyond my control. So, there you have it folks, give me a damn break.

Awesome, now that we have the hurt feelings out of the way let's continue on with the story, yeah?

Just Can't Stay Put

By:

Fox

The classic car was silent as it was once again flying down the road; this time with all three Winchesters'.

John glanced in the rear view mirror which revealed both his sons sleeping. Sammy was laying on his hip avoiding his sore ass, pushed into his older brother's chest. Dean was leaning against the window with his arm tucked around Sam, gripping tightly. The boy has barely slept or ate while his little brother was missing. John was glad Dean finally stopped fighting the exhaustion.

As much as John's eldest tried to put on a tough exterior the father new his weakness was Sammy. Dean would let the usually impenetrable mask fall away and let the gentleness override if the youngest Winchester needed.

John shook his head slightly; like father, like son.

Just after one in the morning the trio pulled into a shabby motel in an another out-of-reach town.

John reached back to shake his son awake, "Dean,"
"Hm?" Dean groggily answered.
"I'm going in to get a room, wake your brother up and get our bags ready."
"Yes, sir." Dean answered through a stretch and a deep yawn.

As their father went inside the motel office Dean looked down at Sam; the kid hadn't even moved when Dean stretched. The older brother gave a good natured humph.

"Sammy," he said through another yawn. "Get up, squirt." All Dean got for his trouble was a groan from said little brother as he shifted to a more comfortable position.

Brat

After unsuccessfully trying to get his brother up for a second time, Dean noticed their father waving for them. Dean climbed out of the car and with Sammy's butt in mind carefully scooped him up.

John raised his eyebrow and shook his head as he saw Dean carrying a still sleeping Sam.

"He's a little old for that, Dean, don't you think?"
"The kid's beat." Dean smirked, "No pun intended." While his father was unlocking the door Dean mulled that over, "Actually maybe I did mean that, it was quite gen-"
"Shut up, smartass and get inside." John ordered as he held the door open.

Dean tried to duck pass his father to avoid the smack but John whacked him on the back of the head anyways.

"No fair, Dad." Dean scowled. "My arms are full with little bro!"

John gave his son a smirk as he went back out to the Impala to get their duffles. God, he loved that boy.

He loved both his boys.

While Dad was getting the essentials for the night Dean laid his baby brother on the bed furthest from the door. He took off Sam's shoes and socks, wrangled his shirt off, and tugged the jeans until they slipped free past his hips.

Sammy had decided to partially wake up after his brother had already done the hard work.

"Dean," he whined half heartily. "Go 'way."
"Shut up, squirt." Dean huffed as he untucked the blankets, "Get under the covers."

As Sam turned on his side Dean noticed his boxers were tugged down a bit. Dean winced; he could see red stripe lines from the switch.

Definitely gonna feel those in the mornin'

Dean was no stranger to getting his ass kicked. John Winchester demanded respect and obedience. Nothing less was tolerated. Dean's smart mouth had gotten him plenty of licks. Sometimes he just didn't know when to shut up. Other times it was his need for some sort of adventure.

Like a few months back when they stopped in Farm Country USA, Iowa. How he managed to let some of the local high school hicks talk him into cow tipping, he will never know. Nonetheless, Dean snuck out and found himself with three of the dumbest guys he'd ever met pushing poor unsuspecting cows over. It had been insanely funny up until the Sheriff caught them and called their parents.

John Winchester hadn't been particularly happy; not only did he find his son had snuck out, which he knew was a big no-no, but got the attention of the town's one and only Sheriff forcing John to call in another hunter to finish the job. The pissed off dad let his displeasure be known that night as his belt did the talking.

Dean had decided to put cow tipping on the, Don't-ever-do-that-shit-again list.

John came back in with four duffles: one for each of them and the necessary equipment to protect the room and themselves.

"Alright, Dean." John sighed as he ran a calloused hand over his face and scratched at his scruff. " I'm gonna get the room situated, you get in the shower and then hit the sack."

Dean nodded his head through yet another yawn and then grabbed a clean pair of boxers out of his duffle.
John grabbed a canister of salt from his bag and began the normal ritual; wide arc across the front door, after making sure windows were sealed tight another thick barrier of the white grain was laid. Door secured, sawed-off shotgun filled with rock salt on the left by the door, regular buckshot shotgun on the right. Room secure.

Dean came out of the bathroom with a billow of steam rushing out behind him,

"All yours, Dad."
John shook his head as he rifled through his own duffle for clean clothes, "Did you even leave me any hot water, dude?"
Dean shook his head no but answered, "Yeah." With a grin. John's eldest slipped into bed next to his brother, "G'night, Dad."
"Night, son."

As always John was the last to go to bed but first to rise. He smiled at the sight of his boys in the bed next to his; Sammy was laying on his stomach with his whole left side hanging off the bed and snoring slightly. Dean was on his back, arms and legs sprawled with his mouth gaping open. It was hard to see where one boy started and the other ended, nevermind trying to figure out the tangled mess of sheets.

John got up and stretched trying to vehemently to deny the crackling and popping Dean always pointed out while using the phrase 'old man'.

He always answered the comment with a good natured threat of a thorough ass kicking followed by a wink from said 'old man'.

The Marine in him reminded John that he hadn't ran in the two weeks since his youngest child had been gone, so, he got his ass in gear and headed out.

The crisp morning air did wonders for the Hunter as he pumped his legs and loosened his joints. As he ran John found that he was smiling, not grinning or smirking, but an honest-to-God smile.

Damn, it's been too long

Having his boy out in the world by himself had threatened what was left of John's sanity. When he realized Sam had left again is stomach clenched violently and sweat immediately broke out over his entire body. His baby boy was out there unprotected. Out there with all the fuglies that crept around not to mention the sick bastards that prey on children.

John knew why Sam kept leaving; the boy didn't have the passion for Hunting like himself and Dean. Sam didn't know the woman he was supposed to be getting vengeance for. Mary was someone who Sam only recognized from pictures. He got small glimpses of his mother from Dean who took after her, but looking at one person to know another just didn't work.

John also knew he was hard on the boys. He was strict and when it came to Hunting letting the Marine loose to efficiently get the job done. It seemed like he was always having to punish one of his boys; Dean for his mouth and stupid stunts. Sam for his lack of respect and the constant need to let Dad know he was full of piss and vinegar.

John knew normal kids didn't get their ass handed to them for not cleaning the weapons or for not laying down salt lines. Yes, sometimes he felt like a bastard when he had to beat a lesson into one of his sons' asses, but it was important lessons nonetheless.

He'd blister butts if it meant that those same butts were around another day.

When John made it back to the motel he was surprised to see that Sam was up and Dean still asleep.

"Mornin', Sammy."
"Hey, Dad."
Standing in only his boxers John noticed his son had obviously lost some weight, "Son," he sighed, "did you eat at all while you were gone?"
Sam blushed and rubbed the back of his head awkwardly, "The cabin wasn't exactly close to anything. Besides, I didn't really have money."
John thought about telling the kid it was his own damn fault but instead, "Guess that means you're expectin' me to feed you, huh?" Sam grinned sheepishly and then nodded. "Ok then, let me get a shower and we'll go eat."
"What about, Dean?"
John shrugged his shoulders, "The early bird gets the worm, Sammy."

After a quick shower and fresh clothes John and Sam left a sleeping Dean behind and headed to the dinner down the street.

After getting a seat at the diner John and Sam just talked. The father found that he relished in the feeling of just being Dad and not Hunter. Sammy smiled more in the hour they were in the diner than the whole year and John felt his heart swell almost painfully.

In fact he was so happy seeing his youngest happy that John almost didn't go through with the punishment later that night. But, as much as John loved being Dad he realized he had to be all aspects, including discipliner.

After sending Dean out John looked over to his youngest who was laying on the love seat with his nose in a book.

"Sammy," John sighed as he sat on the coffee table across from his son, "we need to talk buddy."
"Uh huh, sure, Dad." Sam answered without looking up completely distracted.
John gently plucked the book from Sam's hand and put on the coffee table next to him, "Sit up, I want you to pay attention."
At the serious tone of his Dad's voice Sam sat up cautiously, "What is it?"
"We still haven't talked about your little adventure."
"I'm real sorry, Dad."
John stared into his son's eyes, "I know you are but you nearly gave me a heart attack, Sam. And it almost kills, Dean every time you run away. What if something happened to you, Sammy? Me and your brother couldn't live without you, kiddo."

The guilt Sam felt was crushing him. He nodded as tears flowed down his cheeks. He didn't mean to worry his Dad or brother and he didn't think about how much it hurt them. All Sam could think about was getting the hell out. He was tired of drills, the shitty motel of the week, taking orders, the whole fuckin' Hunting package. Sam knew that is wasn't his Dad's fault they had the fucked up life they did and he did the best he could, but Sam didn't want any part of it.

Sam shook his head, "Sometimes I just can't deal with this."
"With what, son?"
"Hunting. I'm not like you and Dean, Dad. I like staying at one school, in one town. I hate moving around and not being just..." Sam trailed off frustrated.
John rested his hand on the back of Sam neck and gave an encouraging squeeze, "Not being what, bud?"
Sam huffed, "Normal."
John sighed again. He knew what Sam's problem was, the kid fought him every step of the way. "Sammy, I know this life isn't fair and I know its not something you want. Its not something me or your brother wants either but for some reason our family was chosen for this." John paused for a minute, "I ride you and your brother because I love you and I want you safe. Do you understand that, son?"
Sam nodded again and the dam broke as he cried, "It's not fair though!"
John tugged Sam to him and wrapped his arms around the boy, "I know, baby boy."

John waited Sam out and after ten minutes Sam was reduced to sniffles. He really didn't want to have to what he did after the kid's meltdown but John was a man of his word. It wouldn't do his boys any good if he threatened and then didn't carry out with it. What kind of stock could they put in his word if he didn't?

John gave Sam's back one more rub before he gently bushed him back so they could be eye to eye, "Sam, your punishment still isn't over."
Sam straightened up and his eyes got wide, "But you already punished me!"
John shifted his position into his down to business stance with his arms crossed over his chest and a scowl in place, "I told you if this happened again I'd tan your ass every night for a week."
Sam's eyes got even wider and he scrambled back against the couch as his Dad stood, "Please don't spank me again, Dad! It still hurts from the other day!"
"Sorry, Sammy." John replied in a tone that suggested he really wasn't

John grabbed hold of his son's arm and lifted him off the couch. As he was pulling him over to the bed Sam dug his heels into the floor and tugged at John's grasp.

"Sam," He growled.
"Daaad," The boy whined.
John tugged on his arm again, "You keep fightin' me, son, I'm gonna take my belt off; do you want that?" Sam shook his head, "Ok then, let's get it over with."

Sam gave up trying to pull away from his father and let himself be dragged over to the bed.

John sat down and pulled his son to his side,

"C'mon, boy." The exasperated father sighed and gave Sam a pointed look. "Do I need to..." Sam trailed off as his hands moved to the button of his jeans.
John shook his head and gently took Sam's hand, "Not tonight."
He wasn't a bastard, John knew Sam was still sore from the switch, he wasn't going to make his boy suffer. After getting the boy situated over his knees, John placed his left hand on his lower back, "Do you understand why you're here?"
"Yes, sir."
"Ok, Sammy, here we go."

John raised his arm and brought his hand down on Sam's butt hard.

Sammy pushed all the air out of his lungs forcefully at the first swat. As Dad continued to smack, his solid hand quickly re-ignited the fire in his ass.

Sam squirmed as the pain built up to intolerable and almost slid off John's lap,

"Sam, stop." John ordered as he repositioned his son over his knee.
"But it hurts!" Sam wailed.
"It's 'spose to." John sighed, "We're almost done."

The father delivered ten more stinging smacks and then stopped. He rubbed Sam's back until the kid calmed down enough to get up from his lap.

Sam stood with a scowl firmly in place while rubbing his butt,

"This sucks." He commented dryly and then wiped at his face.
John chuckled at his son's revelation while shuffling Sam's hair, "You did the crime, gotta do the time, kiddo."

Dean was sitting out in the Impala after Dad asked him to leave for a while. Dean wasn't stupid, he saw the resignation on his dad's face as he walked him to the door and asked for forty-five minutes. Knew his baby brother was probably getting the start of Butt Warming Week.

Dean felt bad for the kid cause he had been there, done that himself and really, it wasn't pleasant. But damn if he didn't find himself agreeing with his father's decision.

And what the hell was going wrong in the world? Dean agreeing with dad's discipline methods?

Despite what his brother thought he didn't agree with everything the man said and did.

But still he suddenly felt old. Maybe he needed to go find himself something to get that thought he plucked the keys for the Impala out of his pocket and cranked the sleek beast to life.

Dean sat at the entrance of the motel parking lot looking both left and right to try and decide which way to go.

Didn't he see a bar coming into town? Left it was.

I couldn't resist; Dean has landed himself in some deep shit. I'm just sayin'. Pretty please, with a fucking huge, gigantic size cherry on top, review. It makes my day. Really. Don't be afraid to let me know what you really think either. And please, I really don't want to hear any bitching about how you're against spanking and such. Really? I have a friggin' warning posted in the summary. You will be laughed at and possibly publically humilated.

Also, I promise the next post won't be as delayed. I know how much that sucks as a reader of other fanfiction material.

Oh yeah, I've put some additional info on my page. Feel free to check that out if you're interested.

-Fox