Title: Call for help
Author: Dinofossil
Summary: Dean looks to Bobby for help to stop him going off the rails.
Author's Notes/Warnings: Warnings for season 2. Story is a little sadder than I would have liked. Not sure why it went that way, it just did. It also contains a punishment that might be considered a bit harsh in later chapters.
I appreciate that there are those who may be offended by this type of fiction, particularly if I have used your favorite or treasured fictional character. If you think this might be you, please do not proceed, and click the back button instead. I have on a number of occasions when accidentally stumbling on things that don't rock my world, and hey, it works!
If this fiction does appeal, then enjoy, and comments are always welcome.
Disclaimer: Don't own any of characters. They belong to Eric Kripke, and the CW, and anyone else I am unaware of. Not making any money from this either.
Now they were alone in the room, Bobby took a few deep breaths of air to bolster his confidence for the task ahead. "Now, are you sure about this, Dean?" he asked.
Unable to find the right words, Dean nodded his consent to the older man.
"Okay, let's get it over with then," Bobby said, scraping a chair out from underneath his dining table, and placing it in the centre of the room.
Looking across at Dean, he reminded himself of a long made promise to John to look after his boys, and as difficult as this was, deep down he knew that his friend had successfully used this same tactic in the past, helping the boy to work through his feelings of guilt.
He decided that if he was going to do this, he should do it right. It was time to make the swift change into stand-in father figure, something so desperately needed by the troubled young man before him.
Since Dean had somehow firmly rooted himself to the floor, Bobby moved to fetch him, guiding him over to the chair with a firm grip to his upper arm.
"Okay, son, bare your butt, and bend over the back of the chair."
For a few seconds Dean paused, overwhelmed by the sudden appearance of an old friend he hadn't felt in months, fear. He allowed himself the luxury of being re-acquainting with the long forgotten feeling. "Okay," he thought, "fear's an encouraging start."
A staged cough behind him brought him back to the present, and he forced his shaking fingers to unfasten his jeans, letting them fall to his knees. "Why did I think this was such a genius idea," he wondered wryly, as his boxers dropped to follow his jeans.
Bending over the back of the chair, he stretched out his arms and gripped the far edge of the seat, figuring it would help him to brace against the pain that he knew was coming. Behind him, he heard the sound of Bobby unbuckling his belt, and the menacing slither as it was pulled free. Groaning, he let his head drop between his arms and waited.
Doubling up the belt in his hand, Bobby bought it swinging down with a hard crack onto the middle of Dean's backside. With barely a pause, he laid down a number of swipes in quick succession, aiming so that each strike reddened a new area.
Bobby was not in the least bit surprised by Dean's reaction to his punishment. The only signs of discomfort that the boy was prepared to show were a tightening of his grip on the chair, and the slightest of twitches each time the strap hit target. Stopping for a moment, he sighed, worried that Dean had retreated into his strong, silent, and stubborn as a cantankerous mule, mode.
Remembering how these punishments used to work when Dean was much younger; Bobby tried the questioning approach to get him to open up. "So, do you want to tell me why you're being punished young man?" he barked.
"I told you already, for acting out of control, for being a hard ass and fighting with Sam all the time."
"That's a load of crap, Dean. You're forgetting how long I've known you, practically dragged you up myself at times, and I've always been able to tell when you're not being completely honest. Unless I'm very much mistaken, there's more to this."
"No, Bobby." Dean said shaking his head.
Resuming the punishment, Bobby swung his belt with a little more force, targeting the tender area at the top of the thighs. Dean winced at the sound of the leather against his bare skin.
"Ow You're wrong. Oww! That hurts! Okay…, y-yes, Sonofabitch! YES." Dean yelped.
"Care to expand?"
"No, please don't make me."
"Looks like we're in this for the long haul then," said Bobby, setting fire to the red and tender backside once again.
Suddenly, Bobby noticed Dean's shoulders begin to shake, and relief washed over him. "At last," he thought sensing a breakthrough.
Easing off a little, Bobby gently encouraged him to speak. "Come on, son, let it all out."
Bobby had finally gained entry into the locked room, and after months of captivity, the newly freed emotions grappled with each other to be first through the door, causing Dean to cry for the first time in months.
"I'm turning into something I despise, Oww! Bobby please…, Sam's hurting, and I won't even let him talk about dad, Oh crap that hurts, b-because I couldn't care less anymore, not for him, not for dad. I feel nothing, nothing except anger. S-stop dammit…, what sort of monster am I?"
This was the last thing Bobby was expecting to hear, and he was shocked and saddened by the admission. Stopping, he placed a comforting hand on Dean's shoulder, giving it a gentle rub. "That's it son, it's all over, let's get you up," he said softly.
Sliding his arm under an armpit, he extended it round to support the shaking chest, helping Dean to stand.
Giving him some privacy to cover up, Bobby moved to the couch at the far end of the room waiting for him to finish. Once ready, he patted the seat next to him, "Over here, son."
Exhausted by emotion, Dean looked as though he was trudging through thick mud as he wearily made his way to join Bobby, his red and blotchy face hidden from view by his bowed head and sagging shoulders. Gingerly sitting next to the older man, he deliberately misjudged his aim, so that there was physical contact between the two of them, as they sat side-by-side.
Smiling at this move, Bobby decided it was safe to push Dean's boundaries a little further, and draped a fatherly arm around his shoulders, fully expecting it to be violently shrugged away. Instead the shoulders remained still, and his arm was allowed to rest there, radiating comfort and warmth like a favourite old scarf.
"Now, Dean, either you're a monster like you say you are, or maybe…, just maybe, there's the possibility that you're simply a kid who's still grieving for his dad. There's no right or wrong way to deal with it, you've just being doing what you needed to get yourself through it. The important thing now, is to start using some of those rekindled emotions to address the more difficult feelings you've been ignoring, yours and Sam's."
The shoulders beneath his arm started to shake as the tears began to flow freely again. "But, Bobby, I've said and done terrible things to Sam, when all the time he was only ever putting my needs before his own, I've made things worse for him, and I'm not sure he'll even forgive me."
"Listen, Dean, when my own dad died, my brother and I had plenty of fights like you and Sam, and I seem to recall in the middle of one, he was so torn up with grief, that he told me he'd wished I'd died instead of dad."
"He did? And you forgave him?" said Dean with renewed hope.
Bobby chanced a smile, "Nope, never spoke to him again."
Rewarded with a watery smile, he pulled Dean into the tight hug he'd been waiting to give. "Don't ever underestimate the help you've given Sam, just the two of you staying together will have helped him. He's a head-strong boy, if he was really that upset or scared, he'd have been off like a shot long ago. So you're both going to be okay."
Separating, Bobby carefully studied the young man's face. "How you feeling now?"
"Well my anger has been replaced by feelings of pain, predominately in the ass. Oh yeah…, not to mention the feelings of guilt, sadness, and I believe relief is somewhere in there too. So apart from feeling like some soppy chick with a sore behind, I guess I don't feel quite as crappy as I did."
For a long time they remained seated, Bobby gently coaxing Dean to talk about his dad, Dean clumsily stumbling over the unfamiliar words and feelings.
Eventually they were interrupted by noises from outside, as Sam discretely warned them of his return, slamming the car door loudly and clumping his feet on the porch.
"Sam mustn't see me like this," said Dean starting to rise off the couch in panic.
Bobby put a restraining hand on his shoulder. "Dean, crying isn't a sign that you're turning into some soppy chick, as you put it, it's perfectly normal. It won't kill you if he sees you a little emotional for once."
A tentative knock at the door was answered by an all clear hollered by Bobby.
Wondering what he would find, Sam cautiously entered the room, his eyes immediately searching out his brother.
He spied him on the couch, and was surprised that Dean looked all of twelve years old, wiping a snotty nose with the heel of one hand, while removing traces of tears from his red and swollen eyes with the other.
Not wanting to embarrass his brother, Sam was unsure how he should react, but decided it would be more awkward to pretend nothing was going on, and besides, a face like that couldn't go without some sort of comment. "Have you two been watching Beaches without me?"
With an exaggerated roll of his eyes, Dean stood and walked over to join him.
Sam stood eyeing his nose with respect. "Dude, that's a seriously impressive runny nose you got there, you're like a walking monsoon."
"Yeah, well best you start hoping that I don't sneeze, otherwise you'll be in big trouble," Said Dean sniffing loudly.
For a moment they stood apprehensively staring at each other, before Sam, unable to contain himself any longer, crashed heavily into his brother giving him a tight hug.
Both pairs of eyes became watery this time, as Dean mumbled a shaky apology, and Sam reassured him that everything was okay.
"Want to go outside and talk for a while, Sam? Only I think we've both got a lot of catching up to do." Dean finally asked.
Nodding, Sam headed for the door, but before stepping outside, he turned and mouthed a quick thanks to Bobby.
End