The ride back to the motel was eerily silent. Dad slapped Dean's hand off the radio controller when he moved to turn it on. When they got back to the motel Dean plopped down ungracefully on one of the two beds, knowing that he wouldn't be able to sit comfortably for a while. Dad stood over him, looking bigger than life.

"Dean, I've told you once I've told you a hundred times, we don't draw attention to ourselves. And fighting, is drawing attention." John said, looking down at his seventeen year old.

"Fine, ok. I get it I'm dumb and I didn't think." Dean sighed.

"Is that lip, boy?" Dad growled.

"No sir." Dean said.

"Good, now your school may have a strict no fighting policy but mine is stricter." Dad pulled out the chair from under the room's desk and propped his leg up on it. "What'd I say would happen the next time you get in a fight?"

"Daddd" Dean whined.

"One."

"You said I'd get belted bare assed, but Dad you can't be serious. I'm seventeen!" Dean rushed out.

"Dead. Now come here." Dad crooked a finger in Dean's direction.

"Dad come on!"

"Two"

"Fine!" Dean stalked over to his father.

"Watch your attitude boy." Dad said, "Or this conversation could end with soap."

"Yes sir."

"Now drop them."

Dean's hands went to his waist and with a click and a zip the jeans were around his ankles, "Shorts too?"

"Did I say bare assed or not Dean?" Dad sighed, the swish of leather through belt loops followed.

"You did sir."

"Then drop em'" Dad said gruffly.

Dean felt a shiver of cold air rush up his spine as he dropped his boxers.

"Over my lap."

"Dad! Seventeen!"

"You do not want me to get to three, boy"

Dean lowered himself over his father's lap. It was an ungraceful maneuver but John wasn't judging and Dean knew that. Dad didn't lecture, didn't need to, Dean knew why he was there. Dad just brought his belt down, rapidly turning Dean's lily white ass a deep red.

Dean hissed as Dad hit his sit spots. Dad was hitting those tender spots on purpose, and Dean knew that. There was no guess work in Dad's spankings, the man was an old pro. Dad landed a particularly hard stroke on Dean's thighs. "Dad! Stop! Please!"

Dean knew he was begging, hell the boy knew he was crying like a baby, but he was on the receiving end of a John Winchester whupping and anyone in his place would be begging and crying too.

"Dad I won't fight. Ever!" Dean cried out.

"Don't make promises you can't keep, Dean." His father sighed.

Dean was willing to promise anything just so long as the spanking would stop. In fact he hardly noticed when the belt stopped hitting and was placed on the desk, and Dad's callused hand began to rub circles on the crying boy's back.

"Shh, shh, it's all done now Dean. We're all done." Dad helped the boy up.

Dean stood up and bit his lip as he pulled his boxers of over his butt. He looked at his jeans disdainfully. Then stepped out of the denim pants and tossed them onto the bed.

His father pulled him onto his lap and looked at Dean, "Son. You know the rules, we keep our heads low. We blend in to the crowd. And a part of being in the crowd means we don't get into fights over stupid things. Dean, the next time you get in a fight I'll make this look like a walk in a park. I'll belt your ass every night for a week. Clear?"

Dean nodded.

"Can't hear your head rattle, son. Are we clear?"

"Crystal sir" Dean said.

"Good." Dad pulled Dean into his chest and gave him a hug "it's all good now son. It's all forgiven."