Chapter 18: Part Two
Leaning his shoulder against the doorframe of the guest suite's open doorway, Dean silently watches his baby brother sitting on the room's window seat, body twisted towards the window and staring out into the darkened woods, lost in thought.
The hem of the Iron Man pyjama shirt is being held against Sammy's cheek in lieu of a comfort blanket, the fingers of his casted arm fidgeting with said hem, both a nervous habit and a subconscious one. Today a bit of both. The other hand holds Littlefoot, Sammy absently walking the small stuffed dinosaur over his thigh. The dirty makeshift bib is still tied around the kid's neck and Dean makes a mental note to invest in some proper bibs when the hunt for Rowena is done and over with for good.
And despite having woken only a short while ago, the kid's drooping eyelids are a clear indication Sammy is in desperate need of a nap. And if he doesn't sleep after his spanking, Dean's going to have to put the kid down for a nap mid-morning without fail. Maybe even before then. And he really wants to say the hell with it and forego this punishment, but he knows full well it won't benefit anyone, but especially not Sam.
"Sammy."
The kid startles, dropping his shirt from his hold, while Littlefoot is immediately enclosed within the kid's fist as if Sammy thinks he needs to hide it. Dean turns away to give him a moment, dumping out Sam's duffle full of their clean laundry onto the sofa bed. He hears and feels Sam join him.
"Cas in the shower?" Dean finds a pair of his kid's softest jeans, a tee and a shirt for Sammy to put on once they're done with their talk. He sees his kid nod to his question as he stands to drape the clothing over the back of the chair he earlier vacated.
Turning back to Sam, he turns the kid around so he can get at the knot at the nape of the boy's neck to remove the bib. "Can I have your dam-ding, buddy?" Dean holds out a hand for it, Sam staring down at it in confusion and then meets his eyes. "Just for a little while," he assures.
Sam slowly removes the pacifier from between his lips and places it on Dean's palm, though he doesn't release it. "I'll get it back?" He queries, worrying his bottom lip.
"Of course, Sammy. It is yours."
Smiling his happiness at knowing his dam-ding is not being confiscated, Sam finally releases his hold. Dean places both the pacifier and dirty napkin on top of a dresser before he seats himself on the foot of the bed.
Sam must read something in his expression as to what's coming next, because Dean has to hide his amusement as the kid swiftly plants his ass on the first chair he comes across (the one Dean just placed the clothing on). The move fondly reminding Dean of when Sammy was smaller and thought if Dean couldn't see his butt, Dean couldn't swat his butt. The theory never did pan out for the kid, of course, but Sammy would give it a good try nonetheless.
"Alright, kiddo, let's get this over with." Dean pats his thigh. "Come here."
"Oh, no, I'm okay. I'm good doing research from right here, thanks," Sam deliberately keeps his eyes off his brother. That is until the hand lands atop the laptop he was intending to open, preventing the move while he snaps startled eyes up to his brother.
When did Dean even move?
Dean tugs the laptop out of Sam's grasp, setting it off to the side before resting his hands on the small table so he can lean down closer to the kid. "You know full well I'm not talking about research right now, Sam."
Sam blinks at him, "I-I can't think of any other pertinent conversation we should be having, Dean."
Dean leans in even closer. "Do not try and play me for an idiot, Samuel. You knew full well when you woke up this morning this conversation was on the card for today."
Sam gulps, knowing he's been caught out. "Oh," and oh god, his voice did not just frigging squeak, did it? "That conversation."
"Yeah. That one. The one that deals with your naughtiness yesterday."
Sam flushes. There's that word again. It really should be banned from every damn language in the history of languages. "We're just gonna talk now, though, right? You're not actually gonna… you know, here." Sam waves a hand around, indicating their surroundings.
It is bad enough when it happens in a flimsy-walled motel, let alone here, in the home of almost strangers. And he feels his face heat even further with the mortification of his earlier behaviour in the Jeffries' kitchen.
It has been so long since he's encountered Kara or any of the Jeffries' for Sam to feel completely comfortable around them on a normal basis. Let alone when he… regresses. Or whatever the hell it is that has been happening to him lately. He had wanted Dean. He knows that. He also knows his focus can become single-minded when he wants his brother; no one gets in his way.
Not even himself apparently. Especially when that little boy inside of him rears its ugly head, wanting things Sam long ago gave up. And if acceptance of that kid means Sam thoroughly embarrassing himself in front of strangers, maybe it's time to squash that brat once and for all.
"No one's gonna hear anything, Sammy," Dean says, clearly trying to appease Sam's embarrassment, but it is of little comfort because Sam doesn't want to face a spanking, to begin with. Here or anywhere. "They're on the other side of the house."
"Is Cas mad about something?" Sam quickly interjects, with a glance at the hallway leading to the bathroom and hoping to stall as long as possible. Their conversation had gone fairly well, but Sam had sensed an underlying current of tension from the former-angel.
"Deflection isn't gonna change the outcome here, Sam. And no, Cas isn't mad. He's still working through crap."
"Why? What's wrong?" Sam questions instantly alarmed.
Dean levels the kid with an appraising stare. One that makes Sam squirm. "Sam," Dean eventually says, "you do get yesterday could've gone down like a frigging boat in a shit storm, right?"
"Yes, Dean, I'm aware of that," Sam says quietly, knowing how wrong everything could have gone yesterday. His actions had been the catalyst. But knowing this spanking is warranted doesn't mean he can easily accept it. Which is probably why his mouth blurts, "But my bottom's hurt."
Dean's eyes flash with something Sam can't read before the man frowns, concerned. "Well, why didn't you say something before now?" He questions as he rises.
Sam cannot deny it was a squeak that left his mouth this time as he's picked up in Dean's strong arms, the man easily manhandling him and holding him over just one arm. And isn't that just irritating? Six-foot-fucking-four and he's hanging over his shorter brother's freaking arm, feet dangling off the floor as if he were nothing more than a baby about to be burped again or something!
"Dean!" He screeches, legs kicking as he tries to get out of the hold. "What're you doing?" He knows he's gonna be spanked, but surely not like this?
"Quit your squirming. I just need to check if salve is required to ease any bruising."
Fuck. No. Shit. I'm such an idiot. "Dean, no …" Sam blurts, throwing a hand back to stop his pants being pulled down, but Dean is too quick and has his pants down beneath his butt in a mere second.
Dean stares down at what he already knew would be the unblemished skin of his baby brother's behind. He had seen it yesterday on several occasions, had washed it very recently, and knew no bruising or injury would be found there. This is just another lesson that needs to be learned today and Dean wastes no time delivering two hard swats to his brother's upturned ass.
Sam yelps, hand flying back to cover his bottom. "What'd you do that for?" He snaps out his complaint, scrambling to pull up his pants when Dean releases him.
"Watch your tone," Dean scolds firmly. "And you really want me to tell you what those swats were for, Sam? Because I'm pretty sure you can tell me that yourself. Right now, in fact." Sam moves to duck his head down to escape those stern green eyes, but his chin is grasped before he gets far. "Well?"
"Ly …" Sam clears his throat, "… lying."
"And what do I think about you lying to me, Sam?"
Sam swallows, dropping back down onto the chair behind him, more than aware of what Dean thinks about that from his past misdeeds, and wishing more than ever that he hadn't said a thing. "You, err, don't appreciate it."
Dean snorts humourlessly. "That's one way to put it."
Sam shakes his head, anger building inside of him. "Guess what, Dean? I don't appreciate it either! And what you and Cas did, that's lying, too!"
Dean plants his ass back on the bed, elbows resting on his knees. "Sam, you need to let that go, because it is not the same and you know it. Yes, I'm keeping the truth from you of what that guy did. I get that. But I wasn't lying when I told you the guy's an a-hole. Worse than that even. Protecting someone from the truth is very different to outright lying and I won't go into the details with you, nor is there a need to. It's dealt with."
"So, it was me," Sam says, voicing what he hadn't wanted to since witnessing Cas smash that guy's face into a doorframe. He had much proffered to think the guy had said something towards Dean, offending Cas, then Cas going bat-shit crazy defending Sam. But Dean's words had just proved otherwise. "Cas. You. You were protecting me."
Dean sighs. He hadn't wanted his kid to know even that much, but now it has been voiced, Dean can't turn around and lie to the kid. Not when he is expecting truth from Sam. "Yeah. Cas witnessed something to do with you that set him off."
"But you're still not gonna tell me what it was."
"Not ever, if I can help it."
Sam sighs. He has a fair idea what might have happened and he doesn't want to think about it either. "Okay. I know it's never a good idea to lie to you …"
"I'm glad to hear that. Because from here on out, lying to me or Cas will come with consequences, Sam. Consequences that will fit the severity of the lie. From timeout to a full spanking with five nights of bedtime spankings."
Sam's eyes are wide. Bedtime spankings? Dean has never implemented bedtime spankings. Receiving a full spanking from his brother is bad enough. But five more spankings on top of that? He'd never sit down again if he earned himself that level of punishment. He swallows and clears his throat.
"Is there gonna be anything I can do that won't come with Dean Winchester's full spectrum of little brother punishment, Dean?"
"Sure," Dean shrugs, a light smile gracing his features. "Behaving."
Sam refrains from rolling his eyes. "Guess I shoulda seen that one coming."
"Look, kiddo, this isn't new territory. You've always had rules to abide by and consequences to face when you break 'em."
"You get that in most family's kids grow up and out of rules and punishment, right, Dean?"
"You ever known me to give a damn about what goes on in other families, Sam?"
Sam sighs and shakes his head. Plenty of hunts over the years have called for their involvement with other families. But dealing with families on hunts is an entirely different kettle of fish to the inner workings of a family. And where that is concerned, Dean doesn't look beyond their own.
"Does it help any if I say I'm sorry."
"I already know that, Sam," Dean acknowledges. "But you still need to face the consequences of your actions."
Sam's gaze snaps to Cas emerging from the bathroom hallway. The former-angel stops, taking them both in.
"Now?" Cas directs at Dean.
"Yes, now. I'm not letting this linger any further. We both know what happened last time."
Sam does duck his head down this time, trying not to cringe at the remembered behaviour and tantrums he had thrown when Dean hadn't spanked him for taking those pills. All because Sam doesn't know how to deal with the consequences Dean laid out a long time ago being turned upside down. Of course, his actions following that spanking hadn't helped him any …
"That was not the smartest thing you could have done, Sam," Cas scolds quietly, standing just inside the bathroom doorway.
Sam ignores him, continuing to mop up the flooded bathroom floor, protective rubber boots up to his knees shielding him from the sewage water that had overflowed. He sniffles and has to still to swipe a hand under his nose, the mop coming to a stop with him. He reaches behind him to rub at his bottom which is still on fire from Dean's punishment.
Again, he has to ask himself where he gets these stupid ideas from. He had felt Dean's guilt still eating away at him after disciplining Sam for throwing a tantrum because of his newly reinstated bedtime. So, Sam may have, accidentally on purpose, stuffed three or four rolls of toilet paper down the central toilet (Dean's toilet) overflowing the system and flooding the bathroom.
Sam's butt had been roasted the moment Dean figured out it was him, which unfortunately didn't take a great deal of deduction.
"But then again," Cas continues, "it is not the first time recently that you have goaded your brother into spanking you to help him overcome his guilt. Is it, Sam?"
"I don't know what you're talking about," Sam responds defensively.
"No?" Cas continues to stare at him, stepping further into the bathroom and closing the door behind him. "We both know what Dean did under the influence of the Mark of Cain. And what he threatened to do to you, Sam. And we know it weighs heavily on him, though he will never say it. He didn't spank you when he found out about your taking of those painkillers …"
"And with good reason!" Sam interrupts. "If you haven't noticed I'm way past the age to be getting my butt spanked still, Cas. Dean shouldn't do it."
"But it is what you had been expecting from your brother during that conversation. Instead, he simply grounded you and placed several more rules upon you, including your bedtime." Sam scowls at its mention. "Which was your perfect opportunity to see if Dean would actually enforce that bedtime after he told you the set time would be remaining. Oh, I believe your temper tantrum that day was genuine, but you had been pushing and pushing your brother beforehand. Then you received what you wanted."
Sam's face twists into a glare as he scoffs, "I didn't want Dean to spank me, Cas!"
"But you did, Sam. Because you feared Dean had lost his nerve. And you needed a spanking as much as he needed to hand your behind to you. It is your stability."
Sam swallows and shakes his head. "That's ridiculous."
Except he knows it isn't. Sam knows that. He just hates to admit it.
Because what kind of person admits to something like that? That they need the consistency and stability of knowing when they do something warranting a punishment, then punishment is dished out without fail. To know you have consequences to face. And a spanking had always been one of those consequences, and such a huge part of Sam's very existence; a punishment that he knows works on him beyond anything else because he hates it so much.
Something Dean is more than aware of, too; it is the very reason the wooden spoon and hairbrush reside over Dean's desk in the library, out in the open where Sam can see them when he is in there. It is not a humiliation tactic, but a simple and silent reminder to ensure Sam sits up and thinks about the consequences before he does something stupid.
Of course, it hasn't always worked (mopping up a flooded bathroom floor is proof enough of that) because Sam does have a stubborn streak the size of Texas. Which is why he has always needed those consequences; the consistency and stability from his brother, the only person in his life to ever give it to him. To fear Dean being unable to give him that… yeah, Sam goaded Dean into dishing out that first spanking after the mark's removal.
But for as much as Sam had done it for his own sake, he had doubly done it for Dean's.
Because no matter how much Sam has distanced himself from believing Dean no longer has any right to be in charge of him over the past few years, that they are equals, that Dean is letting him be a grown up … it's all complete horse-shit.
That had become highly apparent the longer the mark had resided on Dean's arm. The fact Dean had been placating Sam into believing they were equals, for years now, was blown wide open. And Sam had wanted to be pissed, but the fear he was losing his brother was far stronger. For the longer the Mark was present, the more Dean descended into that uncontrollable rage that had propelled him into beating on Sam with his fists. Threatening to slice Sam's butt to ribbons with a switch.
Discipline that would have turned into abuse.
And Dean had remembered all too well. The man stepping back when it came time again to discipline Sam. Because for someone like Dean, who prides himself on being able to dish out the necessary punishment under supreme control of his temper, Sam knows Dean had feared another loss of control if he even thought of spanking Sam again. And worst of all that he no longer had any right to do so.
But Sam now knows he is the one person Dean does have every right to spank, whether he's a grown up or not.
They watch each other's backs. They protect each other. But at the end of the day when they come home to the bunker at the close of a case, Sam is still Dean's baby brother. That is his place. And Sam had set Dean back on the road to being in charge, to being back in control by inciting a spanking out of the man.
It's where Dean thrives.
And being Dean's baby brother is where Sam thrives.
He just doesn't always realise it without a kick in the butt.
"You've learnt to observe too much, Cas," Sam grouses, seeing the perceptiveness in those blue eyes staring at him.
"Perhaps so. But I have found it to be quite necessary when around stubborn Winchesters'."
"Yeah. I guess you have," Sam acknowledges the truth of that. Cas turns to go when Sam calls out to him. Cas turns back, raising a questioning eyebrow. Sam clears his throat, not sure why he wants the answer to this, but feeling the need to ask anyway. "Would you …?"
"Spank you?"
Sam nods jerkily.
"Yes, Sam. With or without your brother's permission, I would spank you if I thought it necessary."
"Is Cas gonna spank me too?" Sam questions quietly, the memory of that conversation fluttering away.
"He should." Dean glances at Cas now occupying the closest chair at the table, before looking back to Sam. "But no. Cas doesn't yet have my permission to spank you."
"Well good. And you should just go ahead and redact the permission you gave yourself somewhere along the line, too, Dean," Sam argues, unable to stop himself. "Nobody should be spanking me. I'm thirty-"
"-two years old. Strangely enough, I haven't forgotten that little detail, Sam. So, quit thinking you need to remind me of it."
"Yeah, well, from where I'm sitting it sure seems like you're forgetting that little detail, Dean."
"Funny. Cause from where I'm sitting right now, all I'm seeing is a brat."
"I'm not a brat!" Sam shouts, just as annoyed by being called a brat as he is by Dean's irritating calm; voice never rising, never going beyond freaking calm, his affirmation not quite withstanding when his sock-clad foot rises and stamps back down on the carpeted floor.
"You sure are behaving like one, Sam. Because you seem to be labouring under the opinion you don't deserve this spanking …"
Sam stills. "I didn't say that," he murmurs.
"No? So, you understand that disobeying me will guarantee you a trip over my knee every time? Because that's what you did yesterday morning, Sam. When you walked out that motel door by yourself and took yourself into town, you disobeyed me and you disobeyed Cas."
Sam shifts his shoulders …
"Don't you dare shrug at me, Samuel."
… and gives a shrug.
Dean rises to his feet, intent on swatting his kid's backside again when a hand clamps down on his left shoulder.
"What is it called when two people switch roles?" Cas questions, without concern of his partner's narrow-eyed gaze upon him. He had been quietly observing the pair thoughtfully for the past few minutes and feels it now appropriate to point out an alternative view to Sam. Of course, the brothers are now staring at him as if he has lost his mind, but Cas perseveres. "Well?" he demands.
"Err, you mean like role reversal?"
"Yes. Thank you, little one. So, we are on a hunt …"
"Excuse me?" Dean demands, confused. "What does this …"
Cas glares his partner into silence, the other man rolling his eyes before giving a silent 'have at it' wave of his hand. "We are on a hunt," Cas says more firmly this time. "Something is after Dean …"
"We'd find it and kill it," Sam interrupts matter-of-factly.
"True. But in the meantime, you have told Dean he would be an idiot to go anywhere alone …"
"And he'd say 'screw you, Sam'," Sam interrupts again, knowingly smug.
"Again true," Cas allows because the look on Dean's face is saying just that. "May I reach the point I am trying to make, please?"
Sam gestures his hand for Cas to continue.
"If Dean did what you did yesterday after being told not to go anywhere alone, would he be deserving of punishment?"
"I wouldn't spank Dean!" Sam responds aghast. As if the very thought alone is an alien concept.
Dean refrains from chuckling. Because to Sammy, the thought of Dean getting a spanking probably is an alien concept, even though it did happen when he was a kid. But the kid is also right in that he would never spank Dean. That is not how their roles work.
"No," Cas agrees. "But that is not the point I am trying to make here, Sam. Would Dean be deserving of punishment for disobeying an order to keep him safe, regardless of his age?"
"Yes," Sam responds without preamble. "Oh, don't look so surprised. I know what you're both saying, okay. And I know I deserve this spanking, but you don't get it. Neither of you does."
"What aren't we getting, Sam?"
"That your worldview seems to have shifted into 'Sam's not grown up enough to think for himself or make decisions for himself or know when its suitable for him to go out by himself'. You said it yourself, Dean, before the spell was even cast, or at least the Mark said it for you. It revealed your truths of how much I'm still a kid in your eyes …"
"Yeah, I'm not gonna apologise for that truth, Sam," Dean interrupts. "To me, you are just a kid. And to ask me to see you otherwise is like asking me to live without limbs. I don't know how to do that."
"But that's my point. I'm a kid in your eyes. Not mine. I'm a grown up. I can make decisions for myself. If I want to go out, I should be able to go out without asking permission. If I want a coffee or …"
"Coffee, huh?"
"I-I didn't mean that I had a coffee. Just that I'm gonna whenever I want, cause-cause I'm all grown. I just… I, um, that's irrelevant to this conversation… What was I saying?"
"You were availing us with the fantastic tale of how you are all grown up now, and able to make decisions by yourself."
"Right. Yeah," Sam clears his throat. "I'm a big boy, I mean a grown up now …"
"You're quite right, Sam. You are physically grown. Mentally, however …"
"Cas, I had a four-point-oh GPA in college," Sam defends, "I'm not …"
"We're not denying your intelligence, kiddo," Dean corrects. "But that doesn't speak for your emotional and mental age, Sam. And in those areas, you're young. Very young. Hey, it's nothing to be ashamed of," Dean says upon the flush flaring across Sam's cheeks. "You can't help still being a kiddo, Sammy. It's just part of who you are."
"Coffee's part of who I am, too, you know," Sam remarks, really wanting to ignore the rest of Dean's words.
"Back to the coffee again. Something you wanna tell us, Sam?"
"What? No, no, I'm just being hypothetical." Sam swallows, tries not to shift because the look in his brother's eyes tells him plain as day that he knows Sam had a coffee whilst out of Dean's sight yesterday. He can only hope the man lets it go.
Which, as it turns out only a second later, is a futile hope.
"So, we have a discussion about no lying, not even five minutes ago, and already you're lying to me again."
"Dammit, Dean," Sam snaps, unable to stop himself. "It's my body. Shouldn't I be the one who gets to decide what I put in it?"
"Up until a few weeks ago, I might've agreed with you, Sam. But you revoked the right to that decision the second I found out you'd been continuously feeding your body pain pills filled with caffeine and not much else."
"Oh give me a break! If you wanna walk that road, Dean, then by all rights the same should stand for you! Or is near constant alcohol consumption excusable just because it's you?"
"Yeah, I admit it, Sam. I was drinking. Excessively. But the difference between you and me is I still looked after myself. I still fully functioned without someone pestering me to eat, sleep and bathe myself."
The wind blasts out of Sam's sails, hating to hear that truth from his brother, and he slumps down. "I'm sorry I had a coffee."
"Are you sorry for that, Sam?" Dean questions. "Or are you apologising just because you think it will save your hide a few swats? And if you know what's good for you, little boy, you'll answer me straight."
"I am sorry. Wait… you're gonna spank me for that, too?"
"You went and had a coffee when I told you no caffeine. I told you not to lie to me, then you went and lied to me. So, yes, Sam, I'm gonna spank you for this, too."
"But I threw it up," Sam says quickly, "the coffee. I threw it up. That must afford me some leniency."
Dean's jaw flexes with the first hint of anger. "You're expecting leniency for lying to me about having a coffee, not once, but twice? That about right, Samuel?"
"What? I… twice? But… I… no …"
Seeing his kid struggle as to when and how he can be accused of lying to Dean twice, Dean helps clear up the confusion. "Keeping quiet yesterday at the clinic about having a coffee with your cookie was keeping the truth from me. I think that's called lying by omission. Or do you wanna quibble that, Sam?"
Sam shakes his head. "No sir," he says not much louder than a whisper, knowing what his brother said is true. "But it's not fair to spank me for something you and Cas are doing."
This again? Dean briefly pinches the bridge of his nose. "Sam, I know you have an idea of what happened in Redfern Grove, but do you really want the details?" Dean sees Cas' body tense out the corner of his eye at the possibility Sam may want to see the entire truth of what the Whites' did spill across the floor. Neither of them wants that. It won't do Sam any favours. But if the kid can't get past Dean and Cas keeping that truth from him, the easiest (though not the best) option is to tell the kid.
"Can you move past this without knowing everything, Sam?" Cas questions quietly.
Sam sighs, seeing the need in both his brother and Cas's eyes for Sam not to ask for full details. "I can move past it," he allows and quickly adds before either man can breathe a sigh of relief, "If I get both your word, that when it comes to information in the future, you won't hold back to protect me if it's something I should know."
"We can do that," Dean agrees, maybe a little too quickly for Sam's liking. "But, so we're clear, Sam. If it's something Cas and I deem unsuitable for you, I don't want any arguments from you or sneaking around behind our backs. You have to trust we're not doing it to hurt you, but to keep you safe. There's some crap in this world you just don't need to know. Hell, you've already had to experience too much as it is."
"And what if I don't agree to that?"
"No one's asking you to agree, Sam. I said we'd give you the information you should know, just as you asked, not the information you think you need or deserve to know."
"Fine, then. I change my mind. I need to know everything."
Dean shakes his head. "Doesn't work that way, Sam. You're not gonna pick and choose."
"So, you just decide for me like I'm two years old again? What about hunting?"
"Nothing is gonna change with hunts, Sam. We're a team, like always. And you know the rules of the hunt. You've lived them long enough. You mess up, you're punished accordingly. Same stands for Cas."
Sam looks to Cas, who nods in the affirmative. He doesn't need to ask who will punish Dean if he messes up. Because no one has ever punished his big brother more effectively than Dean himself. All Sam and Cas can do is be there and hope Dean accepts their support.
"And you're in charge," Sam states, needing to verify that Dean is going to take lead once again in their lives.
For as much as they are a team, that team never works quite as effectively as it does without Dean standing at its head. His brother a born leader, whether Dean sees it or not. And Sam shouldn't need that boundary reaffirmed. He should be striving to gain some independence and equality, not more control upon him.
"I'm in charge," Dean confirms. "Both on hunts and at home. At home, you listen to both me and Cas."
"And if you're not home?"
"Then Cas is in charge. And I expect you to listen to him as you would me."
"What am I in charge of?" Sam cannot still the petulance that escapes with his question.
"Being you. Being a kid. Reading, colouring, playing toys, whatever floats your boat."
Sam stares at his brother incredulously. Because, seriously? How many times today has he mentioned he's not a kid? Dean may think of him as a kid because Sam will always be his baby brother. Sam gets that. But which part of Dean's brain did that spell knock around for his brother to think of him as not just a kid, but a little kid? Because, geez. Playing? Colouring? Okay, yeah, the colouring thing is legit. Sam loves to colour. But playing toys? He doesn't even own any toys. Aside from Littlefoot. But his little dinosaur is completely different.
And because he's pissed about the situation, Sam's mouth runs away from him, even though he had basically asked for Dean to spell out their positions in the hunt and at home. "That's great. When you're done being an asshole, Dean, can we get back to the research?"
"Samuel!" Cas scolds.
Sam would shoot him a glare, but he's a little too busy regretting his choice of words when his brother is in front of him in an instant, grasping hold of Sam's right arm and pulling him up out of the chair. The man's hand once again lands smartly against Sam's bottom and Sam releases a cross between a yelp and a hiss at the sting spreading across his right butt cheek.
"You're in no position to be giving me attitude, Samuel. And unless you want to meet a bar of soap today, too, I'd quit it with the swearing. As it is, you've earned yourself a time-out."
"No!" Sam squirms against Dean's hold as the man all too effortlessly picks him up by the waist and hauls him up over his shoulder. "No De-De! No time-out! No!"
Keeping a firm hold of his kicking brother with one arm, Dean grabs up the chair Sam was sitting on with the other and deposits it in a spare corner, facing the wall. He sets Sam down upon it and Sam immediately moves to rise, only to drop back down into the chair at the glare Dean levels at him.
Sam crosses his arms over his chest, or at least as much as he can with the orange cast on his left arm. He glares at his brother before turning away as he sullenly snaps, "I hate you right now."
Cas looks shocked and opens his mouth, no doubt to scold Sam again, but Dean raises a hand to silence him. Scolding is not the way to go about it. And as painful as they are to hear directed at him, it is not the first time Dean has heard those choice words, or similar, sprout from his kid's mouth when in these circumstances. He knows there is no truth behind them.
Dean squats down beside his boy, grasping his chin to gently turn Sam's face towards him, adding a fraction more strength when Sam resists. The boy huffs but meets his gaze.
"If that's the way you feel, Sam, then so be it," Dean says calmly once he is looking into hazel eyes. "Just remember your spanking is going to happen. And I can wait this out far longer than you can, kiddo. I want you to remember that, along with what it means to be respectful, while you sit here in time-out for the next ten minutes, calmly and quietly."
Dean releases Sam's chin and rises. He has only taken a step when he hears Sam muttering under his breath and kicking at the wall. "Calmly and quietly," he reminds sternly, without turning around to look at his child, the remembered words of Sammy's childhood easily coming back to him.
Sam's movements become minor fidgeting (something Dean has always allowed during time-out as the kid can't keep still at the best of times) and he stops his mutterings. At least for a while.
"Sam, you still have five minutes -"
"Wonder if the inventor of stupid time-out is a ghost in stupid time-out for eternity. Gonna kick their bottom …"
"-Which will increase if you don't stay quiet," Dean continues once he knows he successfully has control over his amusement at the kid's mutterings.
Dean has to voice the reminder twice more while he speaks quietly to Cas before Sam settles, the boy's shoulders slumping as the struggle begins to leave him. And it is eight minutes and twenty-two seconds before the first genuine sniffle makes an appearance.
"De, m'sorry. Didn't mean it."
"Didn't mean what, Sam?"
"Didn't mean to be dis'pectful to you by calling you names and being hurtful."
"Thank you. And I know you didn't mean it, buddy."
"Then I can come out now?"
"Not yet. You still have ninety seconds …"
"Zero seconds has better ring to it." The kid turns to look over his shoulder at Dean with eyes that are all 'I'm a pitifully sad puppy who needs lots of cuddles'. "I do that instead?"
"Samuel," Dean twirls a finger at the boy, taking note of the fact Cas has his head turned away from Sam, the former-angel clearly unable to withstand the puppy-eyes without giving in. Dean will have to have words with him about standing firm under those eyes. Though it is an admittedly difficult feat at the best of times and Dean's had plenty of experience.
Sam huffs but does as asked, turning back to face the corner and stays quiet and calm for the remainder of his time-out.
"All right, Sam, come here," Dean instructs on the ten-minute mark, and for what he hopes is the final time today.
Sam rises and turns away from the corner, shuffling his way over to his brother, who pulls him down to sit on his right knee. Sam throws a nervous glance towards Cas before looking beseechingly at Dean, hoping his brother will tell the former-angel to leave. They may have grown closer over the past few months, but it doesn't mean Sam wants Cas witnessing his punishment.
"Cas stays, Sam," Dean declares firmly with very little sympathy, dashing Sam's hope. "Because you didn't just disobey me yesterday, did you?"
Sam bites his bottom lip, thoughts swirling behind his eyes before he shakes his head. "No sir."
"No. And honestly, kiddo, we're not asking Cas to leave every time I have to roast your backside for you. Cas is family. And no matter how much none of us wants a repeat performance of this, the both of you need to get used to the fact this is bound to happen again." Dean shoots a look over his left shoulder at Cas.
Sam hears the former-angel release a sigh and frowns. Cas had plainly told Sam during their conversation in the bunker bathroom that he would spank Sam. The man had threatened Sam with a spanking a week ago back at the bunker and seemed just as set as Dean that Sam's behaviour yesterday warranted a spanking. So, Sam doesn't believe the ex-angel is not a believer of this type of punishment.
Even though, right now, Sam would be more than happy for Cas to suddenly realise he is against it and speak up.
"You're right, little one, I'm not," Cas speaks quietly, causing Sam's frown to deepen. He is pretty sure he hadn't spoken aloud. And seen as he isn't on the floor unconscious, Cas could not have used any powers, so how …? "Your face is speaking volumes at the moment, Sam. And as you know, I have nothing against this form of discipline when done correctly, as your brother is more than capable of. And while I think this is necessary for your recent behaviour, I simply… I do not like to see you in pain," Cas quietly admits. "Especially if we are the cause of it."
Sam swallows, touched by Cas' concern and honesty. He turns his gaze back to Dean, who offers a minute smile and captures the right side of Sam's face in his palm, calloused fingers brushing hair behind his ear. Silently telling Sam with just that one gesture what Cas had to say in words: I love you and I'm sorry to cause you pain, but as your big brother, I'll do what's necessary to keep you safe, to keep you whole, and nip any misbehaviour swiftly in the bud.
With another quick half smile, Dean gently pats Sam's face before the hand is removed.
Sam cannot help minutely tracing the comfort as the green eyes before him take on the familiar sternness once again. He rises when Dean pats his thigh and gestures him up, moving forward when Dean brings him to stand between his legs.
And oh god, that usually only means one thing. He had foolishly been hoping to get away with taking this spanking over his pants, considering Cas' presence in the room. But like all the times before, Dean doesn't dish out full spankings over clothing. And Dean is right. Unfortunately. Cas is family. It is inevitable that private body parts are going to be exposed within the close quarters they sometimes live in when on the road. Hell, Cas has already seen more of Sam than Sam likes.
Doesn't mean he wants to stand before the former-angel half-naked.
Which is why he pulls away from his brother's reaching fingers. And keeps stepping backwards, gaze jumping between his brother and Cas.
Dean drops his hands to his knees. "Sam, look at me. Just me." Sam's eyes flicker away from Cas to his brother and locks onto the green eyes. "Good boy. Now, come here please."
"No," Sam shakes his head, "you're gonna bare me."
"You're right, I am," Dean responds bluntly. Because he won't have Sam getting his hopes up that Dean is suddenly going to change his method for spanking the kid's rear. And he bares the kid to ensure he is not doing any undue harm. For while his hand, the spoon and brush will redden the kid's behind and make it sore, Dean won't tolerate bruising his boy's skin. "And you being over there isn't gonna change that outcome, Sam. So, you have a choice. You bring your behind back over here to me before I reach the count of three. Or, I'll come get you, and we both know what comes next if I have to do that."
Sam gulps. Yeah, he knows. And the thought of a pre-spanking before his real spanking starts is never an inviting prospect. But neither is being bared for a spanking in front of an audience.
"One."
"Stop counting," Sam twists the hem of his pyjama top in his fingers.
"Two."
Please stop counting, he silently begs, unsure if he can even move before his brother reaches three. And if Dean comes for him, Sam will more than likely punch him. Or try to. An action that will only result in Sam being put across Dean's knee with a bare bottom anyway.
"Thr …"
"Okay. Okay." Sam's body jolts awake, utilising his long legs to place himself back in front of his brother with two wide strides. "Just get on with it," he snaps.
Dean shakes his head. Grasping hold of Sam's right forearm, he turns the kid to the side and lands two sharp smacks to the back of the kid's covered thighs.
Sam yelps at the immediate sting, heat blossoming over the impacted areas as he's turned back around to face front.
"Tell me what those were for," Dean instructs firmly.
Sam bottom lip juts out before he sucks it back in to nibble at it. "Giving you attitude."
"And how many times have I had to warn you about your attitude lately, Sam?"
"Too many."
"Too many," Dean agrees. "Don't make it one more, Samuel, you hear me?"
"Yes, sir."
Reaching forward, Dean pulls the tie open on Sam's pyjama bottoms to bare him. Neither wanting another smack to his thighs (because those hurt) or a pre-spanking, Sam can only stand there, heat flooding his face as Dean drags first his pyjama pants and then his briefs down his legs.
"Step out," Dean instructs, the kid hurriedly covering his privates with one hand, while the hand with the cast goes to his butt, trying to cover the area his pyjama top doesn't reach to cover. As soon as the kid's feet are free of his clothing, and hating to do it, but knowing a little humiliation is sometimes a necessary part of punishment for lessons to sink in a little deeper, Dean orders, "hands at your sides, Samuel."
Sam whimpers, his face flushing a deeper pink as he does as he's told, moving his hands to his sides, fingers flexing with the need to cover up. He hates this part. Standing here exposed like this in front of his brother. In front of Cas. A little boy awaiting his punishment.
One part of him wants to rise up in defiance of the treatment. The other part, a larger part of him, doesn't want to cross his brother any further. It is the latter part of him that wins out. Tears already welling in his eyes and spilling over even as he strives to hold them back.
"Alright," Dean says, and there is both sadness and disappointment coating his tone. It makes Sam feel two inches tall, several more tears silently trailing down his cheeks. If there is one thing he hates more than anything in this world, it is disappointing his brother; letting the man down. "Let's get this done," Dean continues. "Just remember when we're fully done with your punishment, Sam, you're forgiven. Slate's wiped clean. You understand?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good. Now. Tell me why you're about to be punished, Sam."
Oh god. Dean is going this route. The one that never fails to make Sam feel even more like a naughty two-year-old. Dean hasn't asked him to recite his misbehaviour in years. If Dean had had to bust his butt for him over the past decade, Dean always made Sam understand by way of telling him in no uncertain terms what he had done wrong and why Sam was not going to do it again. Sam hates having to do it himself.
He shifts on his feet.
"Stand still. Eyes on me," Dean commands, voice still calm and level. "Tell me why, Sam."
Sam stills immediately. He doesn't want to face more punishment for further disobedience. He swallows against a dry throat, keeping focused on his brother as directed. "Because I-I disobeyed you and Cas."
"That's right. But how did you disobey us?" Dean questions patiently.
Oh crap. Sam frantically wracks his brain for the information that has suddenly escaped him on request of airing it for coming punishment. His fingers unconsciously find the hem of his shirt and twist as he bites on his inner bottom lip.
"Sam, I'm waiting."
Sam swallows, nods shakily, knowing that even though Dean speaks with his ever-present patience that he holds only for Sam, it doesn't mean the man won't start swatting if he's not answered sometime today.
"I… err… um …" then, thankfully, his misbehaviour that has landed him here on the brink of a spanking comes back to him like a lightning bolt. He refrains from cringing; never did he think he would be thankful to recall his misbehaviour. "Um, I err, I-I walked into town by myself when you, err, when you told me I wasn't to go anywhere alone."
"Good boy. But what else?"
"Err, drinking coffee when I'm not allowed caffeine. And for lying to you, twice."
"That's right. We'll combine the two counts of disobedience. What else?"
"Oh… um, b-being kidnapped …?"
Dean jerks as if slapped and his voice is firm, though not scolding as he explains. "No, Sammy. No. That wasn't on you. Was going out alone a catalyst, yes. But so was my allowing you to stay at the library alone. You're not going to be punished for being taken out of the library against your will, Sam."
"No brush?" Sam questions quietly, voicing the concern he's had ever since Crowley landed him on that ledge.
"No, Sam, you're not getting the brush."
Sam cannot help breathing a silent sigh of relief, even knowing what he is still facing. Dean's hand is no picnic and it is going to leave a lasting impression for a while. But it won't leave him as sore as the brush would.
"You're being punished for disobedience, lying, and one other thing," Dean continues. "Something you forgot in your rush out the door yesterday morning. Something you're meant to always have on you if you're not with me. Can you tell me what that is, Sam?"
Sam feels his skin heat further as he finally comprehends what Dean's referring to. The item he knew as soon as he realised he had forgotten it would see him receive further punishment. "The demon knife."
Dean nods, despite his own dislike lately of Sammy handling weapons, his hunter mind still knows the kid has to be armed against the threats they face on a daily basis. "So, tell me what happens when you disobey me, lie to me and forget that knife, Samuel."
Sam swallows again, face heating further as he wishes he could drop his eyes down instead of having to meet his brother's eyes to answer the stupid question.
They all know Sam has his bottom tanned.
But when Dean takes this route to a spanking, the route that has been maintained throughout Sam's childhood, Dean always makes a point of having Sam tell him the punishment he is to receive. And his brother has always done his best to ensure Sam comprehends exactly why he is being punished, even when Dean's the one spelling it out for him. Because if Sam cannot understand the reasoning behind a punishment, it loses its future effectiveness in curbing his behaviour.
But this way is also a humbling tactic made to ensure maximum impact.
And it does.
Sam never feeling as little and childish as he does when standing half-naked and having to announce quietly, but clearly, knowing full well he'll be asked to repeat himself if he mumbles his response, "You give me a spanking."
Dean nods and holds Sam's eyes for a long moment. Sam wants to curse his brother and just tell him to get on with it, but that route saw him receive smacks to his thighs earlier. So, instead, he does as Dean wants and opens himself up, feeding all the comprehension of what he has done and why this is happening into his eyes for his brother to read.
There is gratefulness in Dean's own eyes as the man nods once again after a moment. Then Sam is pulled down over Dean's left thigh, his brother effortlessly shifting him into position while ensuring his casted arm rests on the waiting pillow. He feels Dean's right leg enclose his legs to prevent him from kicking, his brother knowing his habits during a spanking too well.
"Comfortable?" Sam snorts derisively, because of course, he's not fucking comfortable. "Your arm, Sam."
Oh. Right. Sam sighs, coughs to clear his dry throat and says, barely above a whisper, "It's fine."
Unlike the rest of him. He's tense; feels like a coiled spring wanting to burst off Dean's lap. And he jumps when he feels his brother's hand rest on his back, just above his bottom.
"Easy," Dean soothes, rubbing gentle circles over Sam's back, anchoring him and allowing some of that coil to unwind.
Until Dean moves the hand down to his bottom in preparation of drawing it back and that coil tightens once again. He squeezes his eyes closed when Dean's hand leaves him and he yelps, his hips pushing forwards from both surprise and the force of which Dean's strong hand swats down on his bare bottom.
Oh god, Sam thinks, horrified, as the sound of the swat resonates off the guest room's walls. I really hope no one outside the room can hear this. He has given Dean way too much experience and practice over the years in how to deliver an effective spanking. And he isn't sure he can keep quiet through the entire thing. Actually, he knows he won't be able to as he grunts and yelps with each swat, the sting and fire building up across his butt.
Dean tempers his strength as he carries out the grim task. He has no intention of damaging his little boy as he heavily drops the flat of his hand down upon Sam's rear, over and over, spanking his way down one side, before travelling back up the other. The boy squirms, yelps, squeals and pleads his way through it. His legs are trying to kick up against Dean's, but Dean has a good hold on his boy, preventing feet from kicking up to try and hide the kid's butt.
A frequent occurrence with Sammy during a spanking. Along with hands flying back. And Dean catches hold of Sam's right hand before it gets very far, holding it against Sam's lower back as he continues swatting his hand down.
The tone of Sam's cries shift as Dean pays attention to the boy's sit spots. And as much as he wants to pick his kid up into his arms and comfort him, he knows that would offer little benefit to Sam at this point. They all need to see this through. As hard as it is.
"Owww! De, please!" Sam blurts, the burning tears overflowing and leaking down his cheeks, as he tries to wriggle his bottom out of the line of fire. Unfortunately for him, Dean's hold is steadfast.
God, he should be able to handle this far more stoically without turning into a blubbering mess every time he lands himself over Dean's knee. Especially when he has experienced far worse pain in his life than a spanking. But it is always the same when in this position; faced with the physical representation of his brother's disappointment in him. And it is that which breaks him down into a blubbering mess more than anything else.
Several more swats are laid down before it stops. Sam knows it is not the end of his punishment, just a short reprieve. He stops squirming and wriggling around, just allowing himself to cry into the pillow housing his casted arm. He hisses as his brother's hand rubs gentle circles into his heated skin, relieving some of the sting.
"Alright, Sam, that covers the demon knife." Dean stops rubbing and starts patting, much lighter swats than previous. A reminder for Sam to pay attention to the words Dean's speaking. "You'll have that knife with you whenever Cas and I can't be with you. We clear on this, Samuel?"
Sam's breath hitches, trying to bring his tears under control to answer his brother's question. "Y-yes, sir. 'M sorry. W-won't forget 'gain."
Dean increases the tempo to the swats. Not enough that Sam will get lost in them yet, but enough to keep him at attention. "What's next, Sam?"
"L-lying."
"I don't ever want to have to return to this subject, Samuel," Dean lays down a heavy swat and Sam's cries intensify along with it as Dean continues to light up his baby brother's behind into a glowing pink.
"Please, De-De! I be good… no lies… be good…"
Feeling the message is sinking in, Dean once again slows his hand, but doesn't draw it to a complete stop this time. "Next one's the biggest one, Sam. Not only did you disobey me on the no coffee rule, you disobeyed both me and Cas by venturing outside by yourself when told you're not to go anywhere alone."
Dean doesn't wait for promises to be good or apologises, but lays down a barrage of blistering swats, up and down Sam's butt, before turning to the sit spots and back again. The punishment turning Sam's rear a glossy pink.
Sam sobs and pleads his way through it, sending out silent promises to whoever is listening that he'll be a really good boy for as long as he can if his big brother just stops. He's sorry. So sorry. "'M sorry. S-sorry, De …"
Finally hearing the pitch and tempo of Sam's cries change to truly match his remorse, Dean hardens his heart for a moment longer as he lays down the last two hardest swats on the meatiest part of Sammy's butt; closing his eyes to the deep sobs that they draw out from his little boy at each one, as if a gale is just waiting to explode outwards from the boy.
Then it is mercifully over. Dean gives his hand a shake. It stings. But from his own experiences over someone's lap, his hand stings far less then Sam's reddened behind does right now.
Dean lifts his right leg off the back of Sam's. The hand he has kept Sam's own hand trapped against the kid's back throughout the spanking, Dean now releases and shifts it to the back of Sammy's neck. He gives brief and gentle squeezes in comfort, while he rubs gentle circles over Sam's back with the hand he just used to punish his little boy.
"'M'sorry …" Sammy continues to sob messily, "biggest sorry …"
"I know, buddy," Dean hums soothingly. "We're all done. It's over. You're okay, baby boy. All forgiven."
Dean closes his eyes as Sam's sobs increase slightly, releasing the last dredges of tension now that the kid knows he's been punished and the slate wiped clean. He glances up as he feels a supportive hand squeeze his shoulder, surprised to witness a stray tear weave its way down Cas' left cheek.
And from the streaks, it is obvious the other man had been silently crying throughout Sam's punishment. Dean offers a small comforting smile as he continues to rub his baby boy's back, and gestures with his head towards the bathroom.
Cas frowns and Dean arcs an eyebrow, taking his hand from Sammy's back for just a second to gesture at his face in a line down his own cheek. He returns his hand to Sammy's back as Cas feels his face, bringing fingers away wet and abruptly turns towards the bathroom.
Dean will explain later that getting upset witnessing someone else's punishment, especially when that someone else is Sammy, just means you have a damn heart.
Sammy's sobs taper off within a few minutes, and Dean just lets the kid breathe for a moment longer.
"All forgiven, Sammy," he quietly reiterates now that Sam is a little more coherent.
"D'n," Sammy sniffles, shifting his head so he can look at Dean.
"Right here, baby," Dean responds unnecessarily, for Sammy isn't questioning that Dean's presence is still there with him (the kid is still over Dean's lap after all), just affirming to himself that he isn't about to be dumped on his sore ass without any aftercare.
A need that creeps out in Sammy's most vulnerable moments. Due to being thrown aside after being beaten by a man Sam should have been able to have full trust and faith in not to hurt him.
Dean closes his eyes, reeling in the memories before they bring forth his anger. He never wants Sam to feel that anger or think it directed at him. The kid is too sensitive to Dean's emotions as it is.
He gives Sammy a small smile, another gentle squeeze to the back of his kid's neck. The side of Sammy's face visible to him is streaked with tears and snot, but Dean refuses to feel guilty for being the cause of it.
This was a lesson Sam sorely needed. Dean needs to be able to trust that Sam will listen to him, and to Cas. Trust that they won't be lied to. This isn't some game they're playing, their lives are dangerous, and Sammy is more than aware of those dangers.
Sam reaches up to rub knuckles against a wet eye, then reaches back to rub at his sore behind, but Dean gently grasps the hand to stop him.
"No rubbing, kiddo," Dean reminds.
Sam sighs, but does as told, drawing his hand back to his face so he can put his thumb in his mouth, but not before saying, "Time for cuddle?"
"You ready to get up?"
Dean watches his kid's facial expression. Sammy has only ever had two reactions to a full spanking; scrambling up to get into Dean's arms as quickly as possible, or this one where the kid is too drained from his spanking to do much more than just lie there until he has inwardly assessed that he is ready to move.
Thirty seconds pass before Sam nods in the affirmative that he is ready. Dean feeds the pyjama pants over Sam's feet and pulls them back up the kid's legs, leaving the briefs off for now. He eases Sammy up to standing and rises with his boy, keeping hold of him in case his legs waiver.
Sam's next sniffle echoes through the room, the kid wiping at his eyes with the back of his good hand.
"Thanks, Cas," Dean says, taking the offered washcloth from the newly returned and clean faced former-angel.
Sam hears Dean say the words and he lowers his hand, glancing at Cas now standing at the end of the bed and just as quickly looks away. He shifts so he is leaning closer to Dean, face finding the hollow of Dean's neck and gripping hold of the front of his big brother's shirt as a sudden and inexplicable shyness sweeps through him.
He can feel Dean's hand running through his hair, breath tickling his ear as Dean whispers, "It's just Cas, Monkey. You don't need to be shy around him."
Sam shakes his head, shifting further forward against Dean. He is tugged forwards a moment later, his grip on his brother's shirt dipping downwards as Dean sits back on the bed. Sam is pulled down to sit on Dean's right knee, his legs in the open space between Dean's and his sore bottom thankfully hovering over the free air the right of Dean's thigh.
A warm washcloth (the thing Cas had obviously handed to Dean) is gently wiped over his face, cleaning away the snot and tears. Arms wrap around him and he's pulled in closer to Dean's chest for a proper cuddle. He is still unsure how he still fits so well in his big brother's arms when he has several inches on the man, but a contented sigh leaves his mouth as he snuggles in.
"Why you gone all shy, Monkey?" Dean murmurs against his hair, rocking them slightly back and forth. "It's just Cas," he reminds again.
Sam shrugs. He really has no idea why. He had figured he would feel defensive facing Cas after his spanking and certainly hadn't thought to bring shyness into account. He thought he'd outgrown the majority of his shyness a long time ago when his social interaction with people had increased beyond Dean and John, and a few other select hunters like Uncle Bobby and Pastor Jim. At least, more so when interviewing witnesses and family members for hunts than he had at Stanford.
Then again, he also thought he'd outgrown wanting a pacifier, and a soft toy, and throwing tantrums.
He shrugs one shoulder again as he pulls his thumb from his mouth to respond to Dean. "Dunno."
"Well, that's okay. We'll work on that later."
Sam nods against Dean's shoulder, lowering his arm so he can wrap both around Dean. The person the rest of the world knows Dean to be could easily turn around and tease the hell out of him, but he's happy to have his caring and supportive big brother holding him right now.
Even though a part of Sam's brain is loudly telling him he shouldn't be needing this comfort. He shouldn't have needed it at the clinic or earlier. And he shouldn't be needing his big brother to take care of him still. But for this small window of opportunity, Sam politely tells that portion of his brain to shut the hell up.
Ten minutes later, Dean's amused voice invades his mind just as he's about ready to drop off to sleep. "Hey, cuddle-bug. I really gotta take a leak, dude."
Sam giggles and tightens his hold around his brother (as much as his broken arm allows). Dean groans and pokes him in the tummy with a finger. Sam covers his mouth after a squeal leaves his lips.
Dean stares at him with a raised eyebrow before he snorts in laughter.
Sam can feel the heat of embarrassment flare across his cheeks and retaliates by squeezing his arms around his brother's abdomen just that little bit tighter.
"Sammy!" It's a strangled sound and Sam finds himself unceremoniously dumped on the bed before Dean is up and racing towards the bathroom.
Sam giggles again, shifting so his back lies comfortably on the bed with his legs to the side so his sore bottom twists away from the mattress. Guess Dean wasn't lying, he thinks, snickering. The bed dips to the right of him and Sam's laughter tapers off as he shyly raises his eyes to Cas.
Cas smiles down at him, hand reaching out and brushing over Sam's hair. "I imagine that wasn't pleasant," Cas states gently, making no mention of the tears he himself had shed listening to and watching Sam's punishment.
No shit, Sherlock, Sam thinks snarkily with a shake of his head, his hand rubbing his sore bottom. He takes a deep breath, feeling guilty for his own thoughts when it isn't Cas' fault Sam's now feeling defensive more than he is shy. He looks back up at Cas and offers a small smile.
"I'm sorry, Cas," he says softly.
"For what, Sam?" Cas questions, brow furrowed.
For being snarky. "For disobeying you, too," Sam says out loud. "And well… for acting like an idiot when I saw you just now after… well, you know."
"I would not expect anyone to feel comfortable having a witness to their punishment, Sam," Cas responds evenly, hand still brushing over Sam's hair in gentle movements. "As for you disobeying me, your brother has chastised you for the both of us. It is done and over with, and I forgive you, little one."
Sam nods gratefully, fingers picking at a loose thread on his cast before he unexpectedly holds out his arms to Cas. He feels his face flush, and he wants to drop his arms and curse himself for being an idiot, again, but his arms refuse to answer his commands.
Cas smiles, pleased Sam is seeking comfort from him too. He happily reaches down and hooks his hands under Sam's armpits to draw his little one up and onto his lap, mindful of the boy's sore bottom. He is aware it should feel strange, having a six-foot-four body resting against his smaller five-eleven frame, but it does not. The weight of Sam on his lap feels right and comfortable. And as he wraps his arms around his child he has some sense he has done this before, some foreign and fleeting glimpse into a past he never had.
"Cas?" A small voice calls.
Cas blinks and offers a smile to the inquiring face in front of him, loosening the hold he can sense is too tight around Sam's waist. "I am fine, little one."
"You sure? You kinda looked like you were in pain."
Cas allows a wider smile, neither forced nor open, and nods. "I am sure."
Sam appraises him for a moment longer and then nods. "Okay," he murmurs as he rests his head back on Cas' shoulder.
Cas brushes the hair back from Sam's forehead, placing a kiss there. "I have to apologise to you, too, Sam. For scaring you earlier this morning."
Sam pushes himself upright again to look at Cas. "I wasn't scared."
"Yes, you were," Cas responds in his usual blunt manner, rather than allowing Sam the luxury of denying it.
Sam's fingers find the button on Cas' shirt. "Does it make me bad if I was more scared of you or Dean being taken away from me than I was for the guy's life?"
"No, little one. That doesn't make you bad at all," Cas assures. "Just very human. But your brother and I… we have no intention of leaving you anytime soon. Not of our own volition."
"That last part scares me the most," Sam quietly admits.
"It scares us all, sweet one." Cas' eyes meet Dean's, the haunted look in the green eyes blinked away as the other man approaches them, a pacifier and the small soft dinosaur Cas had bought for their boy within his hands.
Sam's sleepy eyes light up at the sight of it, taking the offered toy into his hand. "Littlefoot," the boy murmurs, brushing the toy against his cheek. He then holds his free arm up to Dean. "Up, please."
Dean picks him up and settles him on his hip, Sam immediately curling around him and resting his head down on Dean's shoulder. Dean holds up the pacifier to his kid, who opens his mouth for Dean to pop the nipple in.
"How's a little more sleep sound, Sammy? That sound good?" Dean's expecting an argument, despite the kid definitely needing a nap, but Sammy must be more tired than Dean thinks because the kid just sleepily nods his acquiescence, sucking on his pacifier.
"When do you want to go to the library?" Cas questions quietly, though not quietly enough as the words reach a sleepy little boy's ears.
Said little boy jumping fully awake as everything they still need to research in the few hours they have remaining at the Jeffries' floods his mind. His movement startles Dean, who nearly drops him.
"Whoa, Sammy. It's okay," Dean soothes, trying to ease him back against his shoulder.
Sam shakes his head, pushing against Dean's chest and spitting out his pacifier. "No, Dean. No time for sleeping. Gotta go to the library," Sam says as his feet find ground again when his brother releases him. He grabs up his clean clothes Dean laid out for him.
"Little one, you need to sleep more than you need to research. Your brother and I will handle that side of things for now."
Sam shakes his head, fighting with his stupid tee that doesn't want to go over his arms. "No. There's too much to look at. It'll go quicker with the three of us."
"The library's not going anywhere, Sammy," Dean says, finally stepping forward and snatching the tee back over Sam's head, the kid getting in a tangle with it, considering he had put his head in a sleeve. He gets it on the kid the correct way, tugging it down Sammy's body. "And neither are we until Tom's done what he needs to do …"
"A few hours we have free for research then. Look," Sam looks back and forth between his brother and Cas, flushing only slightly when his bottom half is bared again, this time for Dean to put his briefs back on him. He winces only a little at the feel of the fabric brushing over his sore skin. "This might be our only chance to see if the Jeffries' library holds anything we haven't already read. We at least have to try. Please?"
Dean sighs, but nods, getting the kid into his jeans. He cannot deny Sammy makes a good point. "Alright. We go. But you even look like your falling asleep, Sammy, then you're going down for a nap."
Sam debates arguing as he slips his arms into his jacket but settles on agreement. It will at least get him to the library. He just needs to keep his eyes open so Dean has no reason to make him nap. He moves to grab his messenger bag but hits a snag in the form of Cas, who is holding up Sam's new scarf and hat.
"You are not going anywhere until you are properly attired for the cold weather, little one."
"Aww, man. De-De, do I gotta?"
"You heard, Cas, little man. Get to it."
Sam trudges his way over to Cas, standing there impatiently while Cas sets the scarf, hat and gloves onto him. "All done!" He proclaims the second the hat is pulled down over his ears, moving to pull away from Cas.
"Not so fast, little one," Cas levels a look at him, and Sam can only pout as the tassels on the hat are tied together under his chin. He turns his pout to his hatless, scarf-less, gloveless brother, hoping for a little help, but his brother only nods approvingly.
"Now we can go."
Refraining from rolling his eyes at the pair (because his bottom is sore enough thank you very much) Sam grabs his messenger bag, shoving his laptop and tablet within before slinging it over his shoulder. He heads out the door, before spinning back around, bumping into Dean. "Oh, um," Sam stares down into his brother's semi-annoyed eyes. "You know where the library is, right?"
"If I've said it once, I've said it a thousand times, Sammy," Dean starts teasingly. "It's always a good idea to know where you're going when you lead a mission out the door."
"Hahaha, funny, Dean."
Dean smirks, shifting Sam to the side so he can pass around him to lead the way.