Author's Notes/Warning: Despite my stupid intermittent Internet, we have arrived at the end ON TIME. (Take that, Frontier Communications, with your poor Internet service. No love lost here.) I can't thank you all enough for indulging my exploration into a longer fic and posting once a day - except on weekends. It was an awesome experience and one I will not repeat soon. lol! Gotta rest now. Got a one-shot on the list that I need to muster up some energy to do next month some time, so I must chill a bit. I hope you enjoy and don't hate me too much for wearing out poor Dean. Just know I love him best of all so...there's that.
John and Dean's POV - Chapter 6.5
Dad had caught him with Belinda, riding him nonetheless, Dean remembered, head between his arms, as he waited for his father to return. He knew he couldn't move. He knew he had to make things right by taking his punishment like a man. OK, his dad was spanking him like a kid, but Dean knew he deserved it.
Dean couldn't help but chide himself now for making it so easy for his father to carry out his punishment. The humiliation sent waves of heat across his body as they chased the chills from the air. He had brought Belinda to their home, which he knew never to do – at least not while John was actually in town and liable to come back at any time. What the hell was his deal, anyway?
After a few minutes away, John returned with the final implement in hand to finish the difficult punishment. He wasted no time stepping around Dean's feet to put his left hand on the small of his back. "Move up, son. We're almost through this."
Dean slowly pushed himself up on his elbows to move higher onto the bed, only slightly glancing back to see what his father had in mind. He groaned after he spotted the dreaded paddle John had held on to all the years while Sam and Dean were growing up. John had often used his hand and the paddle when they were younger, changing to a belt or switch as they got old enough to stand the sting of their lashes.
The paddle made Dean feel as childish as he could possibly feel, save for John actually hauling him over his lap at this point, and thank God for small favors. Dean would surely fight Dad if he did try to bend him over his knee. Sure he'd likely lose, but he'd muster whatever energy he had right now to not be completely emasculated by his father.
John pressed down on Dean's back with a firm hand. "Nine more, son. That's all. And I hope you appreciate me letting you lie on this bed instead of forcing you to continue standing."
Dean stayed silent. Instead, he gave in to the helpless feeling growing inside him and covered his head with his hands because now he just wanted to hide. His hands quickly fell back to the bed, though, fisting the covers as the nine punishing smacks landed squarely on his butt in burning succession. He bit his lip for the first few, then huffed out for the last, squeezing his eyes shut, willing himself to be somewhere else while his entire butt was being lit up with the unforgiving wooden device. His father was clearly determined to drive home his point and with each swing he punctuated his disappointment in Dean. There would be no relief until John was done.
Dean knew he had done well to keep his sobs relatively under control, though he wasn't exactly positive he hadn't cried out at some point. The physical pain was only topped by the humiliation of being bent over the footboard, plus – and he hoped he was wrong – the possibility that Belinda had heard even a little of what was happening to him. He felt the shame well up inside him all over again. But he didn't bawl. Streaming tears and rapid breaths were all that truly betrayed that anything had happened to him at all.
When he heard his dad tell him he was done, Dean rose slowly, bracing on his arms at first as he panted, then shifted to the side of the bed. He tried to move as deftly as he could to keep his back to his father, humiliated enough to have taken this whipping completely nude. The last thing he wanted was to expose himself too. Dean honestly did not believe his dad would go through with his threats, given his age. It had been a long time since his dad last took belt or paddle to him. While clearly he was never too old, it had been difficult for him to willingly lie prone and allow the shower of pain to rain on him without even trying to shield himself.
"I'm sorry, Dad," he finally murmured, head down in concentration as he shifted the sheet from under him to pull over his lap. He carefully tightened it around himself and hissed as he tried to find a comfortable way to perch on the bed.
"I let you down and disobeyed your orders too many times. I know it. I didn't mean to. I really didn't. I wasn't thinking straight and I know you had no other choice." He braced his arms on the edge of the bed, slightly pushing up to grant his blistered ass some semblance of relief.
"Why don't you get dressed, son, then come talk to me, ok?"
"Yeah." He hissed again. "Yeah ok."
(~~~)
After John left the room, he closed the door behind him to give his boy some time to be alone and collect himself. He had, for all intents and purposes, stripped Dean in every possible way and now he had to let him start to reclaim some of his dignity.
John ran both hands through his hair as he walked away from the bedroom door. Now that he had reminded Dean that he was never too old to feel the snap of his belt on his bare ass, he had another complication to deal with – the girl.
Dean needs me, she had said. He was hurting, lonely and he didn't even know it himself, she had thrown at him. John knew his son well enough to know something was wrong. He didn't need his son's lay to tell him anything, but had Dean really shared so much with this girl? It wasn't like him at al to do something like that and she was…off. He thought maybe he'd have to find her.
John walked to the front door to step outside for some fresh air and to think more about the girl while he waited for Dean. Swinging open the door, he was startled to find Belinda sitting on the steps, her arms wrapped around her knees like a little girl.
She looked up accusingly as she heard the door open and she stood to face John.
John stepped out on the porch, ready to snatch up the girl.
"What are you?" he demanded.
"I don't know what you mean," Belinda replied nonchalantly.
"Yes, you do." John insisted, glancing behind him to see if Dean had come out of the room yet. It usually took Dean a little time to compose himself to meet John after being disciplined like that.
John moved to close the door.
"Dean is a horny kid. I know that. You are beautiful. That's obvious. So your beguiling ways were clearly irresistible. But he's not stupid. He says he doesn't know what he was thinking and seeing you? Here and now? I'm inclined to believe that."
"If you believe it, then why did you just embarrass and spank him like a disobedient child?"
"He was a disobedient child, Belinda. My child, by the way. To correct as I see fit."
"Your child is a man now. He needs you to listen to him, not punish him."
"I can't listen if he doesn't speak."
"He won't speak if he thinks you'll chastise him for anything he says that's contrary to your commands."
John looked at the bold vixen. She straightened under his gaze, almost daring him to continue challenging her.
"He told you all this?"
"Not with his lips."
John's brow creased in annoyance and he took another step forward noticing that Belinda held her position.
"I ask you again. What are you?"
Belinda tilted her head, as if she was listening. Closing her eyes, she followed the inaudible sound. A smile slowly broadened on her face and she nodded as if she accepted whatever she was hearing. "You're a hunter," she stated in some kind of moment of realization, eyes wide with new understanding.
John stopped now, considering whether to seize her or not.
"I'm a nymph – with a few other abilities. Don't bother trying to kill me. I haven't done anything wrong. I did not hurt your son."
"No? Maybe you cast some kind of spell that has him disobeying my orders and endangering everyone, including himself?"
Belinda stepped off the last step to the ground. "I might have woven a little magic here and there, but only to make Dean happy. Like I said, I didn't hurt him."
"No good comes from mind control."
"Not mind control. Just…a little inner peace for a little while." She clasped her hands in front of her. "Look, I like Dean." She twirled a lock of hair on one finger and looked up at John flirtatiously. "Your son is a virile man, John."
John braced himself so as not to jump on the manipulative thing before him. "Don't talk to me about my son in that way."
Belinda raised her hands in mock contrition. "Sor-ree, John. Don't mean to offend your delicate sensibilities." She smiled a few moments and the smile began to fade as she lowered her hands.
"I won't pretend I'm in love with him or need him or anything. But I do care about what happens to him, whether you believe that or not. I can read him. For someone like me, he's an open book, a long, sad tale of love, loss, loneliness and a need to please stubborn ole you that's so strong he'd keep a therapist in luxury cars for years with him as their only client."
John took a single step down. "You use any kind of power on my son, I should kill you on principle alone."
"Really, John? Because your principles are based on killing evil, correct? I am not evil. I come from nature. You know, John. Nature? As in natural, not supernatural? There are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy, John Winchester. I know who and what you are, so you should know I don't die easily. Just accept what I am telling you and we'll part as friends."
"And what are you telling me?"
"Your son is in pain because of your other son."
John lifted his chin, suddenly enveloped by his own thoughts.
Belinda nodded at John. "I'll take that as you heard me and I'll be on my way then. Please don't try to track me down. I tend to move with the wind." She chuckled. "Quite literally sometimes."
Belinda winked and smiled at John once more. He watched her as she twirled away from him, walking in the night as if she had nowhere to be. He watched her until like that – she was no more.
Sighing, John decided to just let her be a memory for Dean and keep this secret to himself about what exactly she was. For now, he would live and let live; only for now. He didn't know very much about nymphs beyond their mythical relevance. He'd had no idea they were even real. And if they were, then what else? He'd need to research it. But for now, he needed to go inside to Dean.
Stepping into the house, John saw Dean finally emerge from his room.
John stood at the door, shutting it fully behind him, as he fell to lean back on it.
"How you doing?"
Dean nodded uncertainly. "I'm fine." He took one step forward, feeling the abrasive touch of his jeans against his still raw butt. He blanched at the sensation. "Or I will be."
John pushed off the door to find a seat on the arm of the sofa. "I get that. I'm sorry it had to come to that. I really am."
"I know, Dad. It's ok."
"No, no it's not. Or at least you're not. Dean, what's been going on with you? I need to know, son."
Dean stepped forward again until he reached the wall that separated the kitchen from the front part of the house. Leaning against it, he took a deep breath.
"I haven't talked to Sam."
John reared up at the mention of Sam's name, recalling what Belinda had just said. "For how long?"
"Almost a couple of months now."
"That's not so long –"
"Dad, it's the longest we've ever gone without speaking."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
John crossed his arms as he thought.
"What do you suppose is going on?"
"I don't have to suppose. I know. I went to see him."
Realization dawned on John. "When you disappeared after going to the clown museum."
"Yeah. I was going to confront him, but I followed him instead and I heard him talking. Said he thought we just needed space, or well, that's pretty much what he said."
John released a heavy breath. "Dean, maybe your brother really does just need space."
Dean laughed incredulously. "That's pretty funny coming from you, Dad! You didn't want to let him go in the first place, remember?"
"Oh I remember, alright. I remember how stubborn and determined he was and I'm sure still is. He won't let us take care of him Dean, no matter how much I hate it and how much it pisses me off or you. So…we let him go."
Dean held his arms, rubbing them as he considered what John had said. "I can't do that. Not completely. Hell, Dad, you're the one who told me to look after him. You drilled it into my head. I can let him live his life, but I can't just let him go, just like that. You can't ask me to do that."
John didn't know how to respond. He had been the one to reinforce time and time again that Dean was to watch out for his little brother. He just needed to protect his baby as much as possible as he found out more and more about his destiny. But Dean didn't know about that. All he knew was he was the oldest, gotta take care of his little brother. He faulted himself for not showing Dean the value in taking care of himself as well.
"My head was all messed up, Dad. I was mad at Sam, but going to see him just made it worse. Belinda?" Dean closed his eyes, picturing he in his head one more time. "She was awesome, Dad. She just helped me forget about it for awhile. That's all."
"I get it, Dean. But you can't just disappear on me when I am counting on you. When lives are counting on you. You have a problem like that, you come talk to me."
"Dad, it's not that easy, ok? It's just not. I feel like I'm disappointing you—"
"I'm disappointed when you don't do the job the way I know you can. I'm disappointed when I'm counting on you and you don't show. Needing to hear from your brother? That I get."
John chuckled and smiled a wistful smile. "Needing to be with a pretty girl for a little while? That I get too."
Dean looked confused at his dad, not sure if he was thinking about his mom or someone else. That thought just made him disgusted.
John's smile was quickly replaced with a stern look. "But Dean there were people we were protecting. Evil doesn't wait until you've worked out your personal issues."
"Yeah, I know it. It won't happen again. I can promise you that, Dad."
"Good to hear it. I'm gonna hold you to it because you know what will happen otherwise."
Dean closed his eyes, shaking his head mournfully. "Ahh Dad. Don't remind me. Too soon, too soon."
"Fair enough."
John rose from the sofa arm, gesturing toward the door.
"Whaddaya say we go take a peek in on Sammy then? Both of us. Just to be sure he's safe before we move on?"
Dean looked reluctant.
"He won't even know we're there," John added.
Dean brightened then at the suggestion. "OK, that would be good, Dad." Dean scratched the back of his neck. "You know, maybe while we're going, we can think about a second car?"
John smiled and good-naturedly clapped Dean on the cheek. "It is getting mighty tiring having to chauffeur your ass everywhere."
"Hey! I only ride with you to keep you company! I could snag my own ride any time."
"I'm sure you could, but maybe we'll do the next one the legal way, huh?"
"Yeah, I suppose that would be better."
Dean stuffed his hands on his pockets. "So, um, who gets the other car?"
"Who do you think should get it?" John grinned at him.
Dean shrugged his shoulders. "Don't know. I mean, if you want something new, I don't mind taking her off your hands," he said shyly, pointing an elbow out the door, in reference to Baby.
John smiled, thinking of the car that had seen him through most of the best and worst times of his life, with the ones he loved safely inside - until they weren't anymore.
"I suppose something could be arranged."