Last chapter and I know it was no small feat to read this particular story since my chapters can seem to go on forever. But my muse and I are thrilled you made it this far and hope you found the trip was worth the effort. My muse and I really enjoyed being in this world and I suppose that's part of our problem. Once we get started, we're happy to be there and we don't want to stop. But we finally did, see? Enjoy! And if you did, can you tell me - as brief or as detailed as you like - so my muse will know our words aren't just going into a vacuum? Much appreciated. :-)
Sam hesitated at the top of the stairs. The door to his and Dean's room was open. He couldn't hear his dad, but he knew he was waiting inside. He looked back downstairs, noticing the quiet coming from there too. He never usually wished Dean any kind of harm, but right about now Sam wished he could hear something, anything coming from there to help give him the momentum to go into that bedroom.
He listened a moment longer, his ears working double time to hear if anything was happening between Bobby and his brother or if his Dad would at least stir in that room. It was feeling a little like a hunt right now and he was on guard for either signs of life or something jumping out at him.
"Sammy? Quit stalling out there, son. Come on in here."
There it was.
Sam took a deep breath and went in through the slightly open door. "Come in, son. Close the door behind you."
Stepping cautiously inside the room, Sam saw his Dad had dragged the desk chair over by the window and was sitting backward in it, looking out at what Sam guessed must have been the less-than-picturesque view of discarded cars in various states of disrepair.
John looked back at Sam as he entered the room. The worried boy grabbed the doorknob to slowly push it closed with his body and was leaning on it with all his weight as he stood there making shy eye contact with his father.
At the moment, he was fearful about having to endure another spanking, but of also having to fight with his dad about what was said back in the motel. Without Dean there to intercede, would they kill each other?
John's arms were extended and braced on the back of the chair, his helper hanging from one hand, his other hand resting on top of it. Sam couldn't help but look at it apprehensively.
"You ok, son?" John asked sincerely.
Sam looked back at his Dad, noting the concern on his face and thought maybe he could do this after all. Maybe they could clear the air.
"Yes, sir. I'm fine," he replied.
"How's the pain?" John queried. "I, um, could hear you a little down there."
Sam grew a shade pinker at the question. "Not too bad. He let me keep my jeans," Sam explained.
John huffed a smile. "That was good of him. Should help," John said, getting up to turn and place the strap on the desk before sitting back down in the chair. He leaned forward on both elbows, watching his hands a moment before looking back at Sam.
"I know you might be worried I'm still angry with you," he started. "Maybe thinking I'll take that anger out on you now."
Sam gave a small nod.
"I wouldn't do that, son. You should know that by now," John said.
Sam did not give a hint of acknowledgement. He continued to give John a troubled look.
John sighed and sat back, one palm resting on his thigh as he studied his distressed son. Right now Sam was a scared boy and it was hard to imagine that he was old enough for them to be having this college discussion in the first place. John just didn't know if he could talk about it. Not now.
"I was just saying I was thinking about it," Sam said quietly.
John gave the boy a quizzical look. "Excuse me?"
"College," Sam answered. "I- I was just letting you know I was thinking about it. I don't know if I would go or anything. I don't know if they would even accept me. I just wanted to tell you I had been thinking."
John nodded. "Of course they would accept you, Sam." John thought a bit before resuming. "There's nothing wrong with dreams, boy. You should have 'em. It's just...dangerous. For both of you and I don't want anything to happen to you."
"It won't, Dad," Sam replied, standing on his own power now. "Don't you think I've learned something about how to take care of myself from you and Dean?"
"Of course you have," John answered. "It's not you I don't trust. It's what's out there," he said, pointing out the bedroom window. He shook his head and rose from the chair. It was clear Sam would never really understand his motivations. "Son, the big, bad scary world other parents warn their children about...you know how scary it really is-"
"But that can't stop me from living my life, Dad," Sam interjected.
"Sam, I don't want you to not live your life," John replied a little louder. He didn't want to yell. He had to calm down. He closed his eyes and breathed before looking at Sam again. "I want you to have a life, Sam," he continued quietly. "I just don't know if now is the time for this."
Sam furrowed his brows. He could feel the anger starting to stir again, but there was also the disappointment of hearing his dad basically tell him he couldn't go to school if he wanted. He looked down at the floor wrestling with the anger mixed with sadness that threatened to make him cry before his dad even put a hand on him. "I can handle it," Sam whispered to the floor. "You have to let me try."
John just looked at his son. This could turn into something ugly and he just wanted to move on. "Sam?" he called. "Sammy, look at me."
Sam glanced up, still trying to control his emotions before facing his dad fully.
"Let's not do this now, ok?" John requested.
But Sam shook his head no. "Dad, you can't just ignore this," he said, looking steadily at John now. "I- I don't know what's going to happen, but we have to talk about this -"
"Not. Now," John repeated firmer. "I know we do, Sam. Just...please. Let's get this done for what happened here and then later…" John trailed off. He knew it was the coward's way out, but he needed to buy himself some time to see if maybe he could find the thing that killed their mother before he lost Sam to his determination to go off on his own. If he could at least take that monster out, he might feel better about letting Sam go. But if he couldn't, he was gonna have one hell of a fight on his hands with Sam.
Sam knew John tabling the discussion meant more days, maybe even more weeks of him waiting and wondering when it might be a good time to broach the subject again. It had taken all his courage to raise the issue back in the motel and now he was back in that same place of uncertainty. He didn't want to purposely defy his father, but John wasn't making this easy for him. He crossed his arms and stared broodily at the floor, twisting his lips as he tried not to backtalk. No sense making this any worse for himself. But getting Dad to listen, like Dean told him, just wasn't as easy for him as it seemed to be for Dean. It wasn't fair.
"Come on, Sam," John called to him. "Let's get this over and done, huh?"
"Yes, sir," Sam replied in a clipped voice. John could hear it, but would let it slide.
Sam walked over to his father, letting his arms fall as he stood before him. Trying with all his resolve not to show his father his fear, Sam could feel the sensitive skin of his ass starting to heat up all over again at the thought of being whacked for a second time - this time with no denim interference.
"You know the routine," John said, picking up the strap and using it to point to the bed. "I'm afraid I won't be able to give you the same relief Bobby gave you."
"I figured," Sam said, already shakily unfastening his jeans as he moved over to the bed. His butt was still very sore and he wasn't so sure that, even with his pants on, Bobby hadn't seriously chafed his ass. Now his dad was going to make it impossible to sit for a while.
Sam hissed as he lowered his pants, the waist of his boxers dragging painfully across his hot skin. John could clearly see the jeans hadn't been as much of a hindrance as he expected, but it was nowhere near what it would have been if Bobby had taken whatever he used to bare skin. His son's rear was certainly a dull red. It wouldn't deter him from giving this spanking, but maybe he could cut the boy a little slack.
"Looks like Bobby has a firm hand," he said, watching Sam wince as he got into position.
"Yes, sir," Sam muttered into the blanket. "It hurt. A lot."
"Good," John replied. "At least I know this won't be a lesson you'll soon forget."
"No, sir," Sam sighed. He wished Dad would just get this over with. He wasn't in the mood for one of his lectures now too, though he couldn't exactly say that out loud.
"I won't lecture you, Sam," John said as if he knew what his son had been thinking. "You know what you and Dean did was dangerous, let alone the fact that you are still underage and the fact that it's illegal?" John stopped himself, reminding himself that the lecture was unnecessary this time. "I should give you 17, but I'm willing to take that down to 12."
Sam looked back at his father. "Did you give Dean less than 22?"
"No," John answered directly. "He got the full amount. But knowing how soft Bobby is, he'll take it a little easier on Dean right now because of it. You should have the same reprieve. And I won't even make your count."
Thinking about Bobby, Sam knew his dad was right. Bobby would take some pity on Dean and not wail on him nearly as long as he might have otherwise. He guessed it was fair then to let his dad show him some of that same mercy. It was a rare chance. He might as well take it.
Sam nodded his ok, and turned his head back around to rest his forehead on his arms and wait for his dad to start. He clenched his buttcheeks in anticipation.
The strap came down in rapid succession and Sam was in pain before John had given him three strikes. Sniffling, Sam closed his eyes and tried to hold back the cry that was trying to escape. At six strikes across his very pained rear end, he cried out.
"Halfway there, son," John said with some sympathy. Sam could only nod as his breath began to hitch and the tears grew in size.
John counted seven and eight in his head, while Sam began to care less about being strong and gasped out loud with each smack across his burning butt. He pushed his forehead harder against his clasped hands, his breath coming harder now as he tried not to move. He didn't know how Dean had made it through his spanking so quietly with Dad expertly wielding that evil thing, but he had started to realize he was hearing Dean now. He had been too busy crying to notice before. It seemed Dean was having less success keeping his tongue as Bobby's brush was surely wearing him out by now.
At least Sam knew he wouldn't be alone in his pain and humiliating weeping, but first he had to make it through the last four whacks of the heavy leather and damn if that didn't feel impossible.
John brought the strap down as quickly as he could, two on each cheek, Sam wailing now from the pain. The weary father was only too happy to toss the device onto the floor as he moved to help his son get his jeans back up so he could hold him. He wasn't sure if Sam would let him, but right now, he really just needed to hold his little boy who was trying too hard to grow up and get away from him.
Amazingly enough, Sam accepted the help, allowing John to carefully slide the jeans back up over his very tanned ass, as he was yet unable to find the strength to sit up on his own. As John sat down on the bed beside him, Sam let his dad rub his back and shush him and managed to find comfort in his touch.
John took a chance and pulled at Sam's arm now, trying to lift him just enough so John could slide his own arm under him and pull his son close to his chest. Sam allowed it, too weak from the spanking and crying to do anything about it. He felt his dad hugging him as tightly as he had when he and Dean had located him in Flagstaff after two weeks, clearly scared of something and not wanting to let Sam get away from him this time.
Shoving down his own desire to be manly about all this, Sam hugged back and held on to his dad, wishing he never had to let go, willing his dad to be as open with him all the time as he was right now.
John stroked his boy's hair, rocking him as all his fear and worry and anger about the past welled up in his own eyes and he found himself unable to stave the silent tears. His little boy was one of his reasons for still living when all he wanted to do was die after losing the love of his life. If he couldn't protect him, if he couldn't protect Dean, what point was there? He hated how things had become. This was not the father he wanted to be, but it was what he needed to be although it didn't make it any easier to make his sons' lives so difficult. So for a passing moment he just held his child and imagined everything was as it should be. He was grateful Sam wasn't fighting him on this, for once. He wished they could stay here. He wished they could all just stay here and be the family they were meant to be.
(********)
"Dad will never know if we don't do this, Uncle Bobby," Dean tried to bargain. "I'd never tell." He knew Bobby wasn't likely to budge, but right now his sore butt would be glad for every small token of sympathy.
"Boy, your daddy ain't no fool. You really think he won't be able to tell if I don't hold up my part of the deal? Besides, don't think I wouldn't have done this once I found out," Bobby scolded, jabbing a single finger in the air toward Dean. "You just had the crap luck of running into your dad while you were in the middle of doing something stupid and now you have both of us on your asses."
Dean could only groan as he made his way to the couch, standing for a moment to raise his head to the ceiling and close his eyes, steeling himself for a second round of punishment.
"He deserves to have some fun, ya know," he spoke to the heavens, not really sure if Bobby would agree with him.
Bobby sighed. He understood what Dean had been trying to do for the sake of his little brother and he did find it admirable. "Of course he does, Dean. You of all people know how much I have tried to give you boys as much freedom to be the young people you are as I can get away with. Your daddy is a smart one. I can't just let you do everything you want." Bobby headed over to the desk and sat on the edge of it, holding the brush. "We do this right or he'll get pissed and run off with you boys to god knows where for god knows how long." It was as close as Bobby could come now to admitting that he needed the Winchester boys as much as they needed him.
It had never occurred to Dean that Bobby really wanted them there. He had always felt his dad was maybe taking advantage of Bobby's willingness to take them in and hated intruding on the man's life so often. He looked over at the grizzled hunter and smiled, thinking about all the times Bobby was there to let him do the things normal kids do; things his own dad would have told him was a waste of time, or keep promising to do but never followed through on.
"You've always let us be kids, Uncle Bobby. Sometimes you even let us get away with some things Dad never would. And we've never said thank you, huh?" Dean asked, feeling like the one taking advantage now.
Bobby huffed a laugh. "Never expected you to. Kids are supposed to be ungrateful. And they shouldn't have to fight to be a kid as hard as you two have. I'm just glad I can be here to help." Bobby smiled a moment, wishing for the second time that Karen could have been here to see these boys. She would have loved them and been as proud of them as he was.
Clearing his throat, Bobby slapped his thigh as he stood up. "That's enough feeling our feelings, boy. I can feel the ladyparts starting to grow in. Quit the filibustering and let's get on with this."
"OK, OK," Dean replied, stepping over to the side of the couch and carefully lowering himself over the arm.
"Wait!" he cried, suddenly standing back up. "How many?" he asked, trying to channel his little brother and give Bobby the saddest eyes he could conjure up.
"Well, I hadn't quite decided that yet. How many did your daddy give ya?" Bobby asked.
"22," Dean replied, falling silent so as not to give Bobby any ideas. If he tried to negotiate less, he might end up with more. If he tried to be brave and say he could handle that same amount or more, Bobby might actually take him up on it.
"That's a fair amount, alright," Bobby said, thinking. "I imagine you're in a lot of pain right now, huh?"
"It ain't gonna be easy for me to sit for awhile, that's for sure," Dean said, massaging his lower back as if it was the source of his current pain and hoping Bobby would take pity on him.
Bobby rubbed his beard in thought as he looked at the boy. "OK, then. What say we make it half that. I'm not here to kill ya, just keep ya from killing yourself."
Dean narrowed his eyes as he thought. "OK. That's sounds fair." He turned to bend back over the arm. "Any time you're - ow!" he yelled. "Hey, I wasn't ready!"
"I was," Bobby retorted, swinging the brush yet again. "Turn back around and be grateful I'm taking it easy on you."
"You...be grateful," Dean mumbled as he resumed position.
"What's that, boy?" Bobby asked as the second smack landed on the dead center of Dean's backside. The fires of pain were lit anew.
"Ah!" Dean yelled again, as he tried to find his bearings and settle in for the next nine whacks of the heavy wooden brush. "Damn it!" he hissed.
"Come on now, boy!" Bobby chided. "Buck up or this is going to take forever!"
Dean bared his teeth, breathing through the pain. He had never had to take two hidings in a row, and clearly it was going to take way more out of him than he expected.
The third punishing smack landed, pushing Dean forward. He bit his lip to keep from crying out, his head falling further against the sofa cushion. Bobby tried to move things along by delivering the fourth and fifth blows to each side of Dean's blistered butt, lifting the kid on his toes with a hiss each time.
The sixth strike was more than Dean could continue to bear, this time gasping as he clutched the sofa so tightly he thought he might rip into the cushion.
"Over halfway there, son," Bobby said. Watching the pain it caused Dean was becoming just as difficult for him to endure as the spanking was for Dean.
With the seventh blow, Dean settled, letting the pain wash over his whole body as the tears began to build. If he could just keep still, Bobby could finish this, maybe before Dad was done with Sam, giving Dean time to get himself together before his brother saw him like this.
In an effort to stay in position, Dean could do nothing more than gasp and yelp with each remaining strike, the tears blurring his vision until finally Bobby called time.
"Come on, son," Bobby coaxed, placing the brush back on the desk. "It's over. It's over."
With a careful hand on Dean's back, Bobby tried to get the boy to stand back up. Dean kept his face down as he sniffed, letting Bobby guide him away from the arm of the sofa before finally trying to shake off this latest humiliation.
"It's ok, Bobby," Dean said slowly, one gentle hand on the man's arm as Dean tried to push away the help without offending his uncle. He gradually made his way to the living room door frame, clutching the sides with both hands as he leaned into the wood and continued to sniff and breathe, sniff and breathe.
"I'm sorry, son. But you did real good, if it's any consolation," Bobby tried, returning to sit on the desk to give Dean his space.
Dean simply nodded his thanks as he turned to face Bobby and gave him a slightly cynical thumbs up before closing his eyes and clutching his side to wait out the rest of the throbbing pain. He couldn't figure out why he could never remember these times before doing something he knew could earn him a royal smackdown like this. Maybe this would be the one he'd never forget. He chuckled to himself. Even he knew that was totally unlikely.
(********)
Bobby wasn't sure if he was seeing things; John and Sam coming downstairs together with their arms around each other. It was obvious - and understandable - Sam hadn't been able to contain the waterworks, but what was unexpected was the amount of affection John had pouring out of him right now. Bobby always knew the man loved his boys, but it was damn good to actually see it from time to time. Made him feel better about letting them go off with him when it was time for them to hit the road again.
"Everything ok?" Bobby asked, choosing not to comment on the rest of the scene.
John smiled warmly as he squeezed his younger kid at his side and said, "Everything is good, Bobby. I think we are all on the same page - at least for now," he added with a small laugh. John looked up when he realized Dean hadn't said a peep. Not seeing him next to Bobby, he looked around and spotted his older boy leaning with one hand against the living room door frame, the other hand was on his waist and he was bent over like he had a cramp in his side from running. John looked puzzled at the scene.
"What's going on with him?" he loudly whispered to Bobby.
"Oh, he's just trying to shake it off. Seems he couldn't quite get through this one as easily as he thought he might be able to," Bobby explained.
"You ok, there, boy?" John called to Dean. "Bobby didn't beat ya too badly, did he?" he asked grinning.
Dean just waved a hand at first, still not bothering to look up. "I'm fine, I'm fine," he said, huffing a little before finally straightening up. As per usual, Dean was trying to put on the brave face and act like he was a man and could take two spankings in one day. John could see he had been crying though and though neither he nor Sam would say anything, they had clearly heard him down here too. The second had to have hurt way more than the first because he had already been in pain before Bobby started. But Bobby could have said "boo" and Dean would have flinched.
It was actually kinda sweet to know that no matter how old Dean got, it mattered to him what his dad thought of him. It was all John could do not to go over and and hug the boy, but he didn't want to embarrass him any more than he probably already was, clearly wiping away tears in front of his little brother.
Dean finally looked up as he quickly rubbed his cheeks, his signature everything-is-just-dandy smile setting into place. "What?" he asked looking around the room at all the concerned faces. "I just had something in my eye." No one replied. "Move on, people," Dean fussed at them. "Nothing to see here!"
John snorted and collapsed on the sofa, obviously spent. Bobby had seated himself on the corner of his desk, the dreaded brush now put away and all evidence of what happened gone with Dean's declaration that he was just fine.
Sam went to stand on the door frame across from Dean because he too was still recovering and there was no way he was subjecting his very sore ass to any further unnecessary torture right now, like sitting. He hugged himself as he looked over at Dean. He was as aware as his dad had been of his own desire to go to Dean right now and just how much Dean would not appreciate it in front of everyone, so he stood close and comforted himself, hoping Dean got the message.
"So Dad," Dean started, trying to deflect the attention off himself. "What the hell was in those woods anyway?"
"Oh, that, son was an Iktomi. An Indian shapeshifting, trickster spirit. A lot of times it can be benign, just trying to teach people some sort of lesson," John said.
"Before he was Iktomi, he was Ksa, which means wisdom," Bobby added. "But his trickster ways got him turned into this Iktomi character who has the ability to look like a spider. I guess you can say he was the first Spider Man," Bobby said.
"What's he doing hanging out in your woods, Uncle Bobby?" Sam asked. "You've never mentioned him before."
"Well, these aren't exactly my woods, Sam. Long before us palefaces came along, the Sioux were here and so were their legends. They still are. Those woods were their home and I guess some of their legends don't die easy. But that Iktomi was relatively harmless, or at least I hadn't heard of anyone getting hurt by it." Bobby looked slightly alarmed as he looked at his nephews. "Wait, did it try to harm you two?"
"I don't know, Uncle Bobby," Sam replied, looking over at Dean.
"Yeah, I was seeing things, I guess," Dean added. He looked back at Sam before he quietly added, "I saw Mom."
"You did?" Sam asked in shock. "What was she doing?"
"I don't know," Dean shrugged. "She was holding her arms out to me." Dean shook his head like he didn't quite want to remember. "I wanted to go to her so bad," he said, refusing to look at anyone as he reflected. "She looked so beautiful."
"Of course you did, son," John said soothingly. "I'm just sorry you had to go through that."
"I saw Dad," Sam said, causing everyone to look at him in surprise - except John, who had had his suspicions.
"Really?" Dean asked, looking over at John now as if he might have been playing a trick on the boy. "What exactly was he doing?"
Sam hesitated, hugging himself tighter now. "Just...just telling me he uh, didn't want me to go. He wasn't really happy about the thought, actually," Sam said, not wanting to tell them exactly what the spirit had said and just how angry he looked or just how easy it had been to think it had been the real John talking to him.
"Sammy," John said, feeling like he needed to defend himself somehow, but not wanting to open this subject. "It wasn't me son. Whatever it said, it wasn't me. You have to remember that."
"I know that, Dad," Sam retorted. "But it felt so real."
"Yeah," Dean agreed. "It did."
No one was quite sure what to say to that. Sam didn't want to start a fight again. John didn't want to talk about Sam possibly leaving them. Dean just didn't want to get sad thinking about his mom. Bobby watched this and sighed, knowing what wasn't being said and not wanting to interfere. At least not with all three Winchesters in the same room. He had learned a long time ago, if you wanted to get through to any of them, you had to get them alone. He'd have his chance later, he was sure.
"I believe I promised you a sundae, huh, Sam?"
Sam smiled, every bit the little boy he no longer was showing at the thought of ice cream. "Yeah, you did, Uncle Bobby. That would be great."
"Hey!" Dean blurted out. "No one promised me any kind of dessert!"
"We didn't forget you, ya idjit," Bobby chided. "If food is mentioned, I just kinda assume you're going along for the ride."
"You damn right," Dean said. "Except you know what I want," he added, cocky grin growing wider.
"Pie," his family responded together.
"You're so predictable," Sam joked.
"And that's why you love me," Dean winked back at his brother.
(********)
It had only been two days, going on day three. Sam was out of school for a week. John wasn't sure yet how long they would be staying at Bobby's. He knew he needed to go get the truck back, so he had let the boys rest up from all the disciplinary activity from the the previous day, and today he and Dean were going to head out to get the truck John had deserted once he saw how blitzed his boys had been.
"I'll stay with Uncle Bobby," Sam had decided. "I wanna read some more of those cool books he has."
"Nerd," Dean had joked, tousling his brother's hair.
"That's fine," John had said. "We won't be that long."
But they had already been gone a couple of hours, not that Sam was concerned. A day alone with Bobby and the books was a good one for him.
"Knowing John, he's just spending a little quality time with your brother," Bobby told Sam, hoping the boy wasn't worried.
"Oh, it's ok, Uncle Bobby. They always take longer than they say they will anyway. I'm used to it," he said dismissively.
Bobby looked up as if he had heard something and went to his front door. Sam looked up too, wondering what had caught Bobby's attention and then nodded with understanding when Bobby came back with envelopes in his hand.
"Just the mail?" Sam asked, going back to his reading.
"Umm hmm," Bobby replied shifting through the letters. Sam was scanning the page before him, searching for the place where he left off when Bobby cleared his throat. He looked up to see Bobby looking at him.
"What is it, Uncle Bobby?" he asked, starting to worry somehow some kind of bad news about his family had somehow made it to them through today's mail.
"I believe this is for you?" Bobby answered, holding up one thick-looking white envelope.
Sam looked confused as he stood up to retrieve the letter. The confusion turned to what looked like shame as he drew closer, reading his name and the return address.
"Oh," he said, gently taking the letter. It was from Stanford University.
"You gave them my address, huh?" Bobby asked, clearly knowing the answer and the motivation behind the subterfuge.
"Please don't say anything, Uncle Bobby. Not yet," Sam pleaded.
"It's not my news to tell, boy. But don't wait too long to tell your daddy. It's not going to be easy, but the longer you wait, the more betrayed he's going to feel."
Sam simply nodded as he hadn't decided yet what he was going to do. The hesitation really wasn't about Dad, per se. And Dean would be happy for him, he was sure. But it would still be hard to think about leaving Dean alone with Dad. That was the sole tether tying him to the intangible Winchester homestead. If anyone could handle it, surely it was Dean. Sam just wasn't sure he was ready to hurt his brother - or his father. Everything was good right now and this letter would surely destroy that.
No. He would wait. He would give his family this week to enjoy being together and being with Bobby. He would let them leave here and get back to their so-called life. Then, when he felt brave, he would let them in on the secret that would surely change all of their lives.
