Stepping into the line of fire
Chapter 33
Dean started to panic.
John was pulling him along in no uncertain terms and Dean was incandescent with rage. How dare his ol' man read him the riot act in front of is gal? he felt humiliated and furious with his dad.
"Dad…let go of my arm? Dad…let go…"
John did not answer his wayward son and did not let go. His grip was like a platinum vice and his eyes pierced into his eldest's emerald ones like steel.
Sam had watched the whole thing curiously. For once he actually agreed with his dad. John had to get Dean back into the hunt. If his older brother needed a wake-up call… then so be it.
John was dragging Dean into a spot that stood at the left-hand side of where their tents had been erected. Angela was following close behind forlornly.
"Drop em'!"
"What?"
"Drop them' Dean."
"No way dad. No way…"
"Drop em'… Now!" John bellowed.
"You can't be serious dad? you can't?"
"I've never been so serious in my life. Drop em' and bend over that tall rock there."
In front of John stood a rather significant stone that looked as if it had stood there since the beginning of time. It was grey and strong and sturdy. Good enough to do the job… thought the eldest hunter.
"I am done tellin' ya' boy to focus. Now you will. Drop em'!" John commanded.
Dean looked around as if he was willing for some sort of wood god to come along and call this a bad dream. His resolve to stick up for himself was merging with his deep ingrained training… You've got to follow orders… He was hearing this long-remembered mantra in his mind… You've to look after Sammy…like some distant stoic verses that were imprinting on his brain and he really could not move. He was rooted to the spot. Dying. Facing monsters was a walk in the park compared to facing his drill sergeant of a father.
"No." Dean gulped and looked down.
"Do I have to count son?" answered John.
Dean was panicking.
"Dad don't… please don't ask me to do this in front of my girlfriend." He implored.
"Seems to me son as if you've showed her more than your ass" John answered crudely.
"Drop em' and get to it now. I'm running out of patience."
Dean looked at Angela and she did not meet his gaze. She had closed her eyes. Dean saw this as a sign to do as he was told. He unbuckled his belt, dropped his jeans and bent over the stone.
"Briefs too son."
Dean said nothing and did as he was told.
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He heard the swishing of the belt before he felt its scorching heat. He was used to blanking out the pain to keep his dignity intact. At least until he was dismissed. The belt hit its target nineteen times and his ol' man was not going easy on him.
While this punishment was taking place, Angela kept her eyes closed. She knew she was next. She had never been spanked as a child. Ever. Would she ever submit to this barbaric retribution? She really did not know. When she opened her eyes, Dean was fully dressed and his emerald eyes had turned to grey.
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