They had delivered the exhausted girl to her relived parents and were back in the kitchen of the bunker, when Dean turned to Jack and said harshly, still angry:
"We need to deal with this."

Jack looked up at Dean with large eyes.
"I remember – punishment and then forgiveness, right?"
"Uhm, well, yes… "
Sam grinned in the background, seeing his brother so obviously taken aback. Dean looked like a man, who had just stepped where the last step of a staircase should be, but wasn't.

Jack just undid his belt and jeans, pushed them to his knees, and turned to the kitchen table. His hands went to his boxers, but Dean harrumphed that he had no desire to have a bare ass in his kitchen, thank you very much, so just leave them on. Bending over, Jack grabbed onto the opposing edge of the table and set his forehead down on the cold surface.

Dean blinked a few times, cast a quick look at Sam, who shrugged, then he undid his belt buckle. He doubled the belt up, and put a hand quite gently on Jacks back.

"Why are you getting punished?"
"I didn't obey orders on the hunt"
"And?"
"I didn't follow the plan."
"The most important thing?"

Jack looked over his shoulder at Dean.

"Come on?"
"I … don't … know?"

Dean suddenly pulled the young man up by the arm and hugged him hard.

"You put yourself in danger, when there was no need to do that!"

Shoving the startled Nephilim away from him, and pushing him back over the table, Dean lifted the belt.

"We – will – not – loose -you."
Every word punctuated by the sound of leather on skin, as Dean smacked the belt against Jack's naked thighs.

"You - are – family."
Those words accompanied by three strokes where they would be felt every time Jack sat down for the next couple of days or so.

"You - are – important."
The boxers truly didn't offer much protection against the worn leather of Dean's belt.

"Do - you - understand?"
Nope, not much protection at all.

The belt dangled loosely in Dean's hand, as he waited for an answer.

Jack gulped for air and wiped his sleeve over his face, getting it wet with sweat and tears.
"Yes, I know, you need me to find your mother."

Three hard strikes to the tender skin at the top of his thighs had Jack up on his toes, yelling a bit.
Nephilim or not, when Dean Winchester decided that he was going to spank you, he made sure you knew, that you had been spanked.

"No, Jack," Dean said, as he pulled the belt back through the loops of his jeans, missing the fiddly one on the back-left side. "You are important to us, because you are you, and because you are family. Not because of what you can do."

He pulled Jack up, steadying him, when he reeled a bit on wobbly legs.
"We will not lose you"
The word "too" hovered in the air, unsaid.

Then Dean pulled Jack into a hug, holding him fiercely and safely in his strong arms. Jack felt his tears seep into the tattered plaid shirt of the man who had hated him at first, but by now had become family, brother, friend.

Sam was suddenly at Jacks back, joining in the hug.
"We mean it, Jack. Don't do stupid shit like that. There's enough things out there that can hurt or kill us, don't take risks unless there are no other way."
As Sam said those words, he leaned back a bit and caught his brothers eyes. Dean flinched, looking away quickly.

Jack nodded into Deans chest. "I understand. I'm sorry."
"All forgiven, kid. Pull up your jeans, let's get something to eat."

Dean started to walk towards the fridge, when a large heavy hand landed unbidden on his shoulder.
"Not so fast, Dean."
"What?"
Sam pulled Dean around to face him.

"We have something to discuss too, you and I."
"What are you talking about, Sammy?"
"You tried to make a deal with that thing."

"What?" suddenly Dean blushed. "Uhm, well, yeah, but… it's not like it was a demon or anything."
"Not an excuse Dean, we agreed: no more deals. At all or for any reason."
"But…"
"No."
"Listen Sammy…."
"No."
"Really, I… "
"No." Sam's voice was calm, but implacable.

Dean opened his mouth, shut it again, sighed.
"Where do you want me?"
"Table seemed to work fine."

Dean strode rapidly to the table while opening his belt buckle, again. He yanked his jeans down and started to bend, then turned back to look from Jack to Sam then back at Jack again.

Sam smiled slightly: "Won't hurt him to see that the rules go for everybody in this family. Now bend over."

Dean huffed, but obeyed, while Sam quickly undid his belt.
Jack couldn't help but flinch when the belt landed across Dean's ass.
Sam spanked briskly, not seeing any reason to talk while he was focused on getting the lesson through his brother's thick skull.

The belt sang in the air and danced over Dean's back-side from the middle of his ass all the way down to just above his knees. Then back up. Up and down.
Dean went in short order from stoic motionless silence through stomping and jerking accompanied by grunts and groans to hiding his face in his arms and just panting helplessly.

It wasn't actually all that long before Sam stopped and said gruffly:
"Stand up."
It just felt like forever to the three men in the room.

Dean pushed himself up carefully and, after a brief look at his not-so-little little brother, gingerly got his jeans back on, although he left the fly and belt loose.

That being done, he looked quizzically at Sam:
"What?"
"Not getting through to you, am I?"
"What the hell are you on about?"
"I don't think that made much of an impression on you."
"Really? Impression? You damn well left an impression, you left welts."

Dean put a hand tenderly to his throbbing backside.

"Not talking about your ass!"
"Then what the hell are you talking about?"
"I'm talking about getting it through that head of yours that the rules go for you too. No deals, no putting yourself in unnecessary danger and oh, by the way: No punching your family!"

Dean shifted uncomfortably, not knowing what to say to this assessment.

Sam sighed. "I don't like this, Dean, but I think you will like it even less, and if that is what it's going to take…"

Beginning to feel apprehensive, Dean stepped back a little.

"Uhm Sam, what are you thinking?"
"That since your hands are the ones that was doing deals and punching people, maybe the lesson can get home through them. The pathway from ass to brain seems to be a bit too long for it to get all the way up there."

Confused Dean stared at Sam, who was methodically rolling the belt around his hand, until only about 4 inches were free.

"Lift your hand, palm up," Sam said with deliberation.

Dean complied slowly, dropping his head, closing his eyes. Then he felt a hand on his chin.
"No, you will look at me, while we do this."

Eyes met, the belt lifted and fell. It was ice, it was fire, it was pure pain.

"Left hand – look at me."
The sound seemed louder than it should have been. Dean's ears rang, and the entire world skipped two inches sideways, making him stagger on his feet.

"Right hand."
He could barely hear the words, but his hand rose anyway. He looked into his brother's eyes without being told again.
He was dimly aware that Sam was holding back, not at all hitting as hard as he could have, but everything seemed to be cottony and dreamlike.

Sam's eyes, Sam's belt, the blaze of pain, the look of fear in his brother's eyes. The one clear thought:
"Sammy, my Sammy, is scared of me."

Left hand, fire, ice, pain.
"Sammy isn't scared of me, he is scared *for* me."

The realization hit him like a punch, the world flooded back in, everything they had done and been through: Losing himself to the mark of Cain, becoming a demon, losing his memory, Heaven, Hell, Purgatory, all those angels, all those demons, all those sons of bitches.

All of it crystalizing in his mind with the one thought that he had terrified Sam today, making him fear that he would lose his brother once again, maybe for good this time.

He felt all the blood leave his head, pooling into his feet as that realization made his legs just buckle. He landed hard on his left knee, but it didn't matter, nothing mattered except to show Sam that he understood, had finally understood, the lesson Sam was trying to teach.

Helplessly he lifted his right hand again, holding it out, offering it up for punishment, tears starting to flow down his face, looking up at the one person who had always been the center of everything.

Sam looked down at his brother, lifted the belt, then violently shook it from his hand, tossing it away as if it had caught on fire. He let himself fall to his knees, felt tears fall, as he pulled his brother close, holding onto him with hands and heart.

"Lesson learnt, Sammy," the words half choked by tears.
"Good."

And then:
"Bitch."
"Jerk."

And just like that the world was once again back on it's rails. Not running smoothly, because when had the Winchesters ever been in for anything but a bumpy ride? But at least it was running again