Sammy jumped as he heard the door open behind him. He turned around in his seat and instantly let out a small squeak when he saw Dad's scowling face as he manoevered Dean through the open door, one hand firmly on his son's neck. His tough-as-nails big brother looked worse than Sammy could remember in a long while. His face was flushed, eyes red-rimmed and he was still sniffling a little.
"Where is it?" John demanded to know as he looked directly at his youngest, challenging him to even try to discuss the matter with Dean first.
Sammy's eyes widened in shock as he scurried to the other side of the room and went over to his sock drawer. Of course he knew without a doubt what Dad was referring to. He'd warned Dean not to skip school, but would he listen? No, of course not! He handed the things over to his Dad, who passed them on to Dean.
"Get your backpack ready for school tomorrow, put those things in it, and leave it in my room. I think you've gotten into enough trouble over it for one day, hm?" John waited to hear Dean's "Yes, sir" before giving the boy's neck a firm squeeze and releasing him. He was still carrying Dean's pants and placed them neatly over the back of the chair Sammy had just vacated as Dean busied himself with his bag.
Sammy rummaged through his things, making sure he didn't miss any of the games or the charger. If Dad decided to check he didn't want to get caught with another clandestine object. When he was sure he was safe, he turned around to check on Dean and audibly gasped when he saw Dean's very red skin peeking out from below the seams of his underpants. "Holy cow!" Sammy couldn't help himself. It was like seeing a car crash - he just couldn't for the life of him look away.
"What the hell, Sammy?!" Dean cussed hotly, blinking back mortified tears. It wasn't bad enough that his butt hurt like the nine circles from hell. No, his baby brother had to make fun of him, too?
John knew both boys were naturally curious, and well, spankings did have a certain fascination for boys of all ages, and Sammy was genuinely surprised, not mocking. But Dean was just too emotional right now to see that.
"I've never seen it that red!" Sammy never did know when to keep his little mouth shut. He kept right on staring at Dean, as if expecting him to turn around again to offer him a better look.
"That's enough from you, Samuel," John intervened before things got out of hand. He placed a hand on Dean's shoulder, but the stubborn kid tried to shrug him off as he glowered into his backpack and angrily wiped at his face. Fine, if encouragement didn't work, there was always door number two. John put just the right amount of bark behind his next words to make sure Dean didn't do anything stupid. "And you settle down. I've seen quite enough of your temper today."
"So, did you behave yourself while I was away?" John asked his youngest, trying to distract his attention away from Dean's glowing butt. He strategically placed himself between his boys, offering Dean a modicum of privacy before the teen headed out the door with his backpack.
Sammy looked up at him sheepishly. "Uhm, almost, sir?"
John narrowed his eyes warningly. "Is that how you were taught to answer a question, Samuel?"
Sammy stuffed his hands into his pockets and shook his bangs out of his forehead. "Uhm, no?"
"Do you need your butt warmed too, or do you think you can remember your manners?" John watched Dean move to the door but also kept his eyes on Sammy.
"I'm good." Sam looked up at his Dad nervously. If Dad had spanked Dean that hard, surely he must have told him the truth, right? But Dean had also made him promise not to rat him out, and he did want Dean to trust him, but that might mean lying to their Dad. And if he already knew, well then… Fudge Sundae with a scoop of poo!
"Report, Samuel." John had the sneaking suspicion Dean wouldn't be the only one sporting a sore backside today.
Dean re-appeared in the doorway, without his backpack, but with a guilty look on his face. "He stayed up a half hour longer yesterday, sir."
"I see," John replied, crossing his strong arms over his broad chest. "So you both deserve to be punished."
By this point Dean looked as if he might just throw up, and he hung his head as he sighed, waiting for John to announce his verdict. He honestly didn't think his poor butt could take any more punishment right now. Maybe Dad would just ground him until he was 40? Yeah, right, fat chance…
"Okay boys, here's the deal - tomorrow is Friday, so it's only a half-day of school. I want you to come straight home and start cleaning up the yard. I have a few things I need to do in town tomorrow, so by the time I come back I expect to see significant progress. I don't think I need to remind you of what happens if I don't. Is that understood?"
Two heads nodded in unison, accompanied by their standard, "Yes, sir."
"Alright then. Sammy, grab a book and settle down on the couch. Dean - you're in time-out. Go lie down until I say it's time to get up. I'm not in the mood for back talk from either of you, so get at it!"
Both boys hurried to obey.
OoO oOo OoO oOo
"Oh, Deaaan?" Sammy called, grabbing a large handful of leaves and stuffing them as far down into the huge garbage bag as they would go, which wasn't very far, as it was already pretty full.
"Forget it, twerp," came the reply. Not looking at his little brother, Dean continued to rack up what seemed like an entire forest's worth of dry leaves in their sorry excuse for a back yard. Of all the seasons, fall HAD to be the worst. It was as if Mother Nature got some kind of sadistic pleasure out of watching chastised kids clean up her mess only to shake more leaves loose the moment the kid finally finished.
Dean winced as he bent to scoop up the latest pile, trying to concentrate on the job he father had ordered them to do as well as focus on his brother's whiny voice in order to forget what had happened yesterday afternoon. Of course it had been difficult to forget when he he had spent half the day squirming in his seat in his classes. It was noticeable enough for at least one teacher to call him out in class and tell him if he couldn't stop being so antsy, she'd send him to the principal's office and he could explain himself there. That was the last thing he needed; Dad being called for something so trivial might unleash another torrent on his ass and he may as well walk around with one of those donuts for the next couple of weeks.
He was just grateful it was only half a day of school and no gym class. The backs of his thighs were still red. Some slight welts had arisen and how would that look to the other guys at school? For once he was just glad to be home, doing his time doing the crappy yard work he had originally received as punishment for skipping school until something snapped when he realized that Dad would be putting his promises on the back burner once again. He'd ended up over Dad's knee and he still wasn't quite sure how it all went to hell so fast. All he knew for sure was that he really hated the stupid endless leaves; he sometimes hated being stuck in the house watching his twerp bookworm brother when Dad was gone, but most of all, he hated, absolutely hated old Mrs. Donnelly next door. She was the one who'd started this.
Standing to look over at the old bat's house, Sam's voice momentarily faded in the background. Yeah, she started this and somehow Dean had to finish it.
"Dean! Are you listening to me?"
"I said forget it!" he yelled back before turning back to confront his currently bratty brother who had also been given some community service for his role in the Game Boy incident. Of course he was smart enough to only get the service part. He knew when to keep his mouth shut to avoid the corporal punishment part.
"But, Deeean," Sammy said in that annoying whine he seemed to have perfected into an art form. "You don't even know what I want!"
"And I don't give a shit, either." Sam could barely hear his brother's grumble as Dean turned away from him again to continue the grunt yard work Dad had insisted they get done before dinner. But little Sammy was nothing if not persistent.
"Dad says it's not nice to swear," Sammy muttered matter-of-factly, but continued with his line of thought without waiting for his brother's reply. "Do you think Dad will let us go trick-or-treating this year? I've grown a lot since last year."
Dean resisted the urge to roll his eyes, but sighed and turned to face his brother. The little shit always managed to pull right at his heartstrings, like Dean was some kind of mindless puppet. If only those puppy dog eyes worked as well on Dad. But this time even Dean wouldn't fall for it. Sam didn't know about Dad's latest broken promise, but Dean was still smarting from it. What makes Sam think Dad would now say yes to this request?
"Sammy," Dean said kindly, knowing this conversation would be hard enough on the little guy without Dean mocking him on top of it. "You know how dangerous it is out there at night, especially this time of year. Dad'll never let us out." Especially me, right now, he added to himself. "So knock it off and don't bring it up again, ok? Especially not in front of Dad. He'll just get mad and start one of his stupid lectures and we'll never hear the end of it." He hid his own sorrow behind a pained smile as he reached out and tousled Sammy's hair to signal the end of the conversation.
Sammy pulled away with a huff. "This sucks!" he exclaimed and gave the overstuffed garbage bag a swift kick. It toppled over, its contents spilling out onto the freshly raked grass. "And yard work sucks, too," Sammy added for good measure, staring down petulantly at the leaves on the ground, his arms crossed in youthful defiance. "This isn't even fair. What did I do? You were the one smarting off to him. Idiot."
Shock merged into anger. Dean fixed a stare on his very baby brother. His grip tightened on the rake that grounded him to the spot as he surveyed the mess that had taken them so long to clean in the first place. Suddenly he brightened with exaggerated sincerity. "Here, let me help you with that," Dean said as he dropped the rake on the ground and bent down to grab a handful of leaves. But, instead of pushing them back into the bag, he quickly stuffed them into Sam's hoodie, then pulled the whole thing up and over Sam's head.
"Deeeean!" Sammy squealed, momentarily disoriented by the leafy downpour. He tried to duck out of the way, but Dean was taller and faster, blocking his every path of escape until he ran out of leaves and decided the next best thing was to take the kid to the source. And with that he quickly turned on Sam, who was about to finally make a mad dash to safety, and grabbed the smaller boy's leg at the last second, dragging him to his faux death. "No! No! Dean, cut it out!" Sam yelled, grasping futilely at the grass as he went down and felt himself begin to slide. Dean just laughed and continued to drag the little guy across the rough lawn, sharp blades of tough and rough Bluegrass poking mercilessly through the knitted holes of Sam's light sweater. Yeah, sometimes older siblings could be deliberately malicious.
Dean lifted Sam with ease and began to carry the flailing boy to his doom - the giant bag of leaves that had been accumulating for a few weeks as Dad slowly filled it until it was ready to hit the curb to be picked up by the town. All the vigorous activity made Dean wince again as he felt nagging reminders of the beat down he had received yesterday, but he pushed the lingering pain out of his thoughts as he tried to push his suddenly strong little brother into the bag.
"Nooooo!" Sam conjured renewed strength as he saw where he was headed and managed to kick his way out of Dean's arms, but still landing partly on top of the open bag. Dean stepped back as he watched the boy and the bag tumble to the ground, already regretting the mess he had instigated.
He snapped back to attention as Sam's shriek interrupted his thoughts. He laughed at the sight. "What's wrong, Sammy? I've never seen you so red!" Dean teased, throwing Sam's words from yesterday back in his face.
"Ewww! Gross! You did that on purpose, jerk!"
"What? No, I didn't, bitch! Wait. What didn't I do?" Dean looked about confused as he automatically responded to Sam's yell before he even knew what the hell the yell was for. Sam scrambled to his feet, running behind Dean to push him forward.
"I'm not cleaning that up, Dean. You dropped me, YOU clean it up!"
Dean looked down and saw a grayish white mass at his feet and what appeared to be the longest mouse tail ever. Startled he stepped back, his eyes trying to register what he was seeing until he realized it was a possum - and a dead one at that. He couldn't be sure how it had gotten into the bag and for a moment he was transfixed by the lifeless creature.
"That better not come blowing into my yard!" A voice barreled into his thoughts. Dean's head snapped to attention as he sought out the source. Mrs. Donnelly. Of course. Dean scowled.
"You boys are always playing around, making messes! I'm sure your daddy didn't send you out here to scatter debris to the four winds. You can be sure it'll carry over to my yard and I'm not having it! You clean that back up, right now!"
Dean could feel Sam fisting his shirt from behind, the grip tightening as she spoke. He remembered his dad's command not to do anything that would bring the neighbor witch back to their door again. He swallowed the sarcasm that rose in his throat. "Yes, ma'am," he replied with as much false respect as he could muster. "It was an accident…"
"Accident my blue hair! I saw you, goofing off when you're supposed to be working. I'll bet your daddy sent you out here after that talk I had with him yesterday, huh? Uh huh. Serves ya right. Someone's always watching, you know."
"Yes, ma'am. Don't worry, we're going to clean it up," Dean said, trying to put an end to the unwanted lecture by - for once - not mouthing off. Kill the hag with a little kindness maybe - for now. "If we see any leaves blow into your yard, Sam will rush right over to pick them up."
"Dean!" Sam hissed in a loud whisper. "What are you doing?!"
"Just see to it that you do," Mrs. Donnelly replied, her eyes narrowing in suspicion as she found there was no further complaint to be made about this idea. Dean nodded and plastered on his best fake smile, the kind that usually quelled fussy adults, as he reached behind him to assure Sam he wouldn't throw him to the she-wolf like that.
"You know, in my day a boy like you would have been given a few good licks with the rattan cane - that would sort you out once and for all. But children these days just don't get enough discipline." The old bat made a sour-puss face and Dean almost lost it. He'd hardly been able to sit on those horrible wooden chairs in school and every single class had been torture. Suddenly he felt Sammy's small hand squeeze his in return.
Mrs. Donnelly huffed and turned to go back into her home, the beady-eyed cat waiting for her in the window and looking as suspiciously at Dean as she had. You couldn't convince him that cat wasn't her familiar.
When they were alone again, Sam came out from hiding. "We gotta get this picked up, Dean. I don't wanna go into her yard if a leaf blows over there. Her yard is probably cursed or something!"
Dean just smiled as he looked down again at the dead possum. Yeah. She had started this. And now he knew how he was going to finish it.