Sam has a bit more pain to go through before things get better.
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Dean passed Sam the dripping mug he'd just washed, careful that his brother had a good grip on the slippery porcelain before letting go. Sam dried it and stretched on his tiptoes to put it away.
"That's the last one! You wanna do something? You can pick what we watch till dad gets back." Dean's tone was hopeful, but he wasn't all that surprised when Sam shrugged.
"I don't really feel like watching tv. I'm just gonna go do some homework."
Dean's shoulders slumped as Sam turned away to get his book bag from under their shared bed. He knew his brother was a stubborn little thing, but he was taking this a bit far. It had been five days and he couldn't make Sam understand that he hadn't meant to betray his trust.
He'd been so freaked when he realized that he was powerless to keep his little brother safe if Sammy was determined to put himself in danger. He thought that if, just this one time, he let Sam take an ass warming for it, it would knock some sense into him. That's the way it worked with Dean, but Sammy wasn't wired the same way, apparently. It didn't help that Dad had decided to come down on Sam harder than Dean had anticipated.
Sam's commitment to giving him the silent treatment had lasted less than a day. Dean wasn't sure if it had proved too inconvenient when living in this close proximity to one another, or it was the dark looks Dad had started throwing his way that convinced him to switch to a different strategy. He now stuck to little jabs administered in a self-righteous tone, like that homework comment, just enough to let Dean know he still wasn't forgiven.
He had a plan though. His dad had caught wind of a possible hunt and might be heading out later today. Dean had been saving up; if he skipped lunch at school tomorrow he should have enough to take Sam to that movie he had wanted to see and was hoping that would go a long way toward making amends.
There was a rattling at the door and his dad came bustling in the room. "Dean, I'm heading out." He held up an envelope and set it on the table. "That should be enough for necessities if you're smart with it." He tossed him the keys to the impala. "Load my bags into the trunk, I've got something to take care of here." Dean suddenly got an inkling of what it was and started moving before his "yessir," had died on the air.
Dean kicked the door closed, staggering under the weight of both duffles, while his dad went around the room, in an organized sort of frenzy, grabbing odds and ends and stuffing them in his smaller bag. "Sam, I don't have time to mess around, I want your bare butt over the arm of the chair right now."
Sam was too shocked to move. Something was tugging at his memory, but he had just been lying on the bed doing homework, what could he possibly be in trouble for?
His dad's path took him by the bed and he brought his hand down sharply on Sam's rear causing him to jump up and scurry to obey. "You're getting extra for that, I shouldn't have to repeat myself."
Within seconds, Sam had pants and all down around his ankles, waiting in position with his forearms flat on the seat of the chair, still trying to get his brain to catch up with what was happening. His dad continued his circuit around the room, but must have noticed Sam's confusion, "Did you not hear me, Sam, or did you think I forgot? As soon as I'm done here, you're getting the spanking I promised you as a reminder to obey orders while I'm gone."
Oh. He vaguely remembered something to that effect, but as the days passed what little thought he'd given it caused him to come to the conclusion it had just been meant as a future deterrent - if Sam should be so unwise as to repeat his insubordination. He started breathing heavily. What had his dad said? The next five times? Jeez! He hadn't even technically done anything . . . yeah, that was only because Dean had stopped him, but still. And he'd taken his licks for it already, this was stupid!
"Dad, I already got whipped for that; you can't do this!"
He heard a brief pause in his dad's hurried movements only for it to resume as if he hadn't spoken. Finally the footsteps came up behind him and stopped. The bag was set on the floor out of the way.
"I can do whatever I see fit to keep you safe, Sam. When I'm gone I need to know you're going to obey orders. Last week you proved you needed retraining, so that's exactly what I plan on doing. Sorry if you think it's unfair." Having delivered this retort, he started landing heavy swats on Sam's upturned bottom.
At ten, Sam was yelping and teary eyed. His dad started lecturing to the rhythm of his punishment "You will listen to your brother and You. Will. Do. As. You're. Told." He paused and Sam gasped a breath, "Yessir!"
"You're getting ten more for back-talking and not moving when I said."
Sam felt his dad push his torso farther into the chair and whimpered knowing this made the crease where his rear met his legs a better target.
Sure enough, five swats in a row came down on the left undercurve of his bottom, his dad's large hand covering pretty much the whole area down to the top few inches of his upper thigh. Over and over in the same spot until he was howling in pain, only to have it repeated on his right side.
Once it was finished, Sam was able to quiet himself to wet sniffling pretty quickly. As much as it hurt when it was happening, the worst of the pain had mostly settled shortly after it had stopped, and Sam didn't consider himself the carrying-on type.
His dad was still standing behind him and squeezed his shoulder, "Behave yourself, Sam, don't do anything to cause us to have to draw this out any further, and don't make me bring out my belt when I get home."
Sam didn't move, mostly because he knew if his dad saw his expression right now, it might not bode well for his already sore butt - depending on if his determination to "retrain" Sam outweighed his impatience to get on the road. He did manage to say "Yessir," in a passably respectful tone
His dad lingered by the door, but Sam remained bent over the arm of the chair watching the last of his tears drip onto the cushion. "Goodbye, Sammy. I have to go, I'll be back within a week." the door closed hesitantly, as if there was something else his dad had wanted to say, or something he was hoping Sam would say, but he didn't move until he heard the latch click.
He heard the brief mumble of his dad and brother's voices on the other side of the door and then nothing. He stood and rubbed some of the sting out of his throbbing rear before swiftly pulling up his pants, wincing slightly. He knew Dean had most likely been listening by the door, but that didn't mean he wanted his big brother seeing his bare red ass.
He wiped the leftover moisture off his face with his flannel sleeve, his hand in a trembling fist. He headed back to his bed and set his open school books on the floor. Even if his no-good brother didn't tattle on him, if he damaged something he would just be worse off than he was now. Flopping onto the bed, he buried his head in his pillow to stifle the yell of frustration and anger that he couldn't contain any longer.
He heard a small noise behind him and realized Dean had been in the room long enough to witness his outburst. He gritted his teeth; he wasn't in the mood to even look at him.
After a weighty pause, Dean tentatively broke the silence, "Hey, I'm sure I'm one of the last people you want to talk to right now, but if you want to go for a run, blow off some steam, I can take you somewhere. I'll stay far enough away I won't bother you. Or I can hold a pillow if you want to punch something. You could pretend it was me . . ."
"You were right the first time, Dean. I don't want to talk to you."
Dean sighed, "Okay, buddy. Just lemme know if you change your mind."
Sam could swear he heard him mutter something like, "so much for my brilliant plan," but it didn't make any sense to him and he didn't really care. He buried his face in his arms and silently cried his frustration into the pillow.
The next few days passed, Dean hadn't even bothered to bring up the movie. Sam seemed determined to keep them both in a state of misery ever since Dad tanned his ass for him before heading out. He was keeping it to little rebellious digs, stuff like walking just a little too far away from him on the way to and from school, and making him say things twice (pretending he hadn't heard the first time) then obeying with a snide comment. Sam had a sharp tongue, and Dean may have been a pretty good big brother, but he was no saint and they'd had several good yelling matches.
All in all though, even with how mad he was, Sammy was being smart about it. There was a line he was being careful not to cross - on the other side of that line being the types of offenses that might invite a belt whipping - and Dean was grateful for that, at least.
Firstly, he had a feeling that a hiding with his dad's belt wouldn't improve his brother's mood any. And secondly, if Dean could just hold out till his dad got home, and then get through the rest of these stupid reminder spankings his dad had so brilliantly decided on (of course, his dad didn't have to deal with his prickly-as-a-porcupine brother afterward) maybe then it would be over with, Sam would cool off, and they could go back to being friends again. Dean hoped.
He was musing over their predicament as he finished making their dinner. He decided to try not saying anything, hoping to avoid antagonizing Sam after the spat they'd gotten into earlier. Maybe if he simply put the hot Mac and cheese on the table, they could just eat their dinner in peace for a change.
Keys jingled at the door. His dad was stumbling with exhaustion, and he wasn't carrying any of his bags. "Witch skipped town, I'm on her trail, but I had to stop for a few hours sleep." he kicked off his boots and all but dropped onto the bed.
Sam and Dean both spent the time tiptoeing when they had to move around the room, eating, cleaning up, and getting ready for bed as silently as possible. Dean even did some homework at the small table, as there was not much else to do that wouldn't be too noisy, and he figured it would at least make him properly drowsy.
Sam was waiting in bed in his pajamas, apprehension starting to build in his gut. Was his dad going to consider this as him 'leaving them alone' a separate time, or was this the same hunt so it didn't count? Shouldn't he hope for the former? If his dad was determined to go through with this stupid idea, wouldn't it be better to get it over with as soon as possible?
This was so unfair! It was all his dad's fault anyway! If he had just come home when he promised . . . Or his brother hadn't decided to throw him to the wolves and tattle on him. It's like Dean had wanted him to get whipped for something that wasn't even his fault.
Dad stirred in the bed. He sat up and stretched, groaning as several joints popped. He eased his head from side to side. "Dean, anything to report?"
Sam tried to be unconcerned, but held his breath waiting for the answer.
"No sir."
"Dean, you're not doing him any favors trying to shield him from something he's earned. Now, unless you need some retraining yourself, I suggest you look up at me and tell me if there's anything to report, specifically anything regarding your brother's behavior while I was gone."
Dean snapped to attention, meeting their father's gaze. "No, sir. Sorry! Sam and I haven't exactly seen eye to eye today, but he never disobeyed any orders or did anything to report."
Which Sam had to admit was not absolutely 100% the truth, but sort of, technically, true enough.
"Sam, have you been giving your brother trouble?"
"Um, I guess we were picking at each other, but that's just normal brother stuff, Dad. I never did anything insubordinate." Hey, if Dean wasn't going to say anything, well, he plead the fifth.
Sam had ample prior evidence his dad knew when his sons were giving him half truths, but after a moment's consideration, he chose to take their answers at face value without probing further. "Fine. Sam, c'mere." He patted his right knee.
Sam balled his hands into fists, and he carefully glared at the ground as he climbed out of the one bed and slouched over to the other where his father sat.
"What was that, Sam? I didn't hear you? And stand up straight; eyes on me. You know the drill."
Sam tried - more than he had with Dean the past few days, that's for sure - but it would have been obvious to a blind idiot that he was pissed. He mumbled, "Yessir,"
"Sam, I swear, you better drop the attitude."
Sam was seething, but he was making some effort to sound calm, grown up, "I'm not trying to have an attitude. I'm here, right? Obeyed everything you said - but I still think it's unfair. You can't change my mind, no matter how many whoopings you give me."
Dean made a choking sound behind him and Sam figured his brother was sure he'd just sealed his fate. Sam was inclined to agree with him.
Dad ran a hand over his face. "I can't begin to deal with this right now, Sam. Watch the tone and the backtalk. Pants down and over my knee."
Sam did so quickly, his heart beating out of his chest. The spanking was as hard and stinging as always. After about a dozen swats, even Sam was surprised his defiance was carrying him through: he hadn't yet given in and cried (the tears were from his anger and frustration, they didn't count, okay?) His dad must have tired of it because he tipped him farther over and gave the last six swats to his upper legs, finally causing Sam to cry out, and then it was over.
His dad righted him and held him steady as he got his balance. He squeezed his arms gently before letting go and sighed. "Sam, this'd go a lot easier on everyone if you could just accept it, learn what you're supposed to from it, and move on. Now, I really do have to go. Behave boys."
The door opened and closed, and as Sam got redressed by the light of a single dimmed lamp, Dean's voice came in an awed whisper, "Dude, I thought you were a goner for sure! Wish we could buy a lotto ticket or something; it's definitely your lucky night.
"Shut up, Dean." but his voice didn't hold the venom it had the last few days; he had to side with Dean on this one.
Dean must have noticed the change, he approached him cautiously. "Are, are you okay, Sam?"
"I'm fine, Dean, just really tired, I'm gonna go to bed now."
"Okay, g'night Sammy."
"'Night" Sam crawled under the covers and faced the wall, but he didn't close his eyes. It was possible he had been going about this the wrong way. He had a lot to think about.