Supernatural Fic: Scorch Marks Part 1 of 3
Title: Scorch Marks Part 1/3
Author: sirenprincess
Rating: R
Warnings: Curse words, eventually pretty severe paddling and belting
Genre: Spanking fic, angst
Characters: Dean (14), Sam (10), John
Spoilers: Season 1?
Word Count: 3,843 in part 1
Scenario: John punishes Dean, Dean punishes Sammy
Implements: Paddle, Belt
Summary: October 22, 1993 Dean gets himself in over his head while taking care of Sammy alone. He has to call a very cranky John away from a job to help, which is sure to earn him a pretty severe punishment. Sammy finds a way of getting himself into deep trouble too.
Disclaimer: This work is based on characters and situations created and owned by the CW. No money is being made, and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
This is a work of fiction and is not meant to condone spanking in real life.
Author's Notes: In Over the Impala I referenced something that had happened in the boys’ childhood. I had to write out that story, and what the characters told me actually surprised me.
This is part 1 of 3. Part one is mostly set-up and deals with the boys’ feelings, but it is entirely about the upcoming punishments. Part 2 will be Dean punishing Sammy. Part 3 will be John coming home to deal with the boys. I might add a fourth 'after' chapter as well.
I know John seems pretty harsh in this one, but I promise that will eventually be explained.
The sound of the phone ringing made both Dean and Sammy jump. Dean’s heart thudded against his chest wall as he went to answer it. ‘Please let it be Dad. Please let it be Dad,’ he thought over and over as he picked up the receiver. ‘Don’t be social services. Please be Dad.’
“Hello?” he said, trying to sound much more mature and in control than he actually was.
“Dean, what the hell is going on?” It was his father’s voice. His very angry voice, but his voice.
“Dad,” Dean sighed with relief. He was still in a lot of trouble, and he knew it, but he didn’t have to be the one making all the decisions and shouldering all the responsibility now. He had back-up now, so everything would turn out okay.
“Dean, you left me fifteen messages on my car phone and eight at the motel. It was actually enough to prompt the motel clerk to come find me in the woods! What’s going on?”
The tightness in Dean’s chest returned. He’d known this part was going to be hard, but he hadn’t realized it was going to be next to impossible to get the words out. Having to tell on yourself, report your own crime, when you were certain you were going to get a pretty decent punishment for it, well that really sucked. Usually when he had to report on himself, he could at least wait until Dad was home with his feet up relaxing. But it couldn’t wait this time. Even though Dean knew he had to do it, his body didn’t want to comply. His throat swelled shut, his mouth went dry, and his hands started to shake just the tiniest little bit. But Dean had to overcome all of that and tell Dad. He had to.
“I . . .” Dean had to cough then swallow and try again. “I got in trouble for fighting at school, sir,” Dean reported succinctly, like a good soldier. Just the facts. “I would have forged your signature to the discipline slip and informed you of the incident upon your return like I’m supposed to, but the principal is insisting on speaking with you, sir. I told him you were out of town on business, but he’s starting to pry, ask a lot of questions. I’m afraid . . .” Dean stopped himself. Fear wasn’t something his father wanted to hear about. “I think he might call social services.”
“What?” John growled. Dean flinched a little. His father sounded like an angry grizzly bear. “You’re telling me that you put yourself and your brother at risk of being taken by social services and have basically blown our cover because you were fighting at school?”
Dean swallowed hard. Dad was mad. He’d expected mad, but this was . . . really, really mad. “Yes, sir,” he replied truthfully. It was all he could say.
“What were you fighting over?”
“Uh . . .” Dean had spent so much time worrying over what he was going to do if Dad didn’t call back in time that he’d completely forgotten to prepare himself for this interrogation.
“It was over a girl, wasn’t it?” John asked knowingly.
How did his father know that? Dean wanted to lie and tell him it was over something important. He was a great liar-smooth, convincing-but, he couldn’t lie to his dad. “Yes, sir.”
“Let me ask you something else. When you got into this fight, did you fight like a normal teenager? Or did you fight like you’ve been trained to?”
Dean’s heart sunk even further. He knew the answer his father wanted to hear, and he unfortunately couldn’t give him that one. “Trained moves, sir.”
“And you didn’t think that maybe that might draw attention to yourself? That maybe that might blow your cover? Now you’ve got a principal taking notice of you. We’re lucky you and Sammy weren’t already taken. I left you in charge because I thought you were responsible.”
“I’m sorry, sir,” Dean said. He knew it didn’t matter, didn’t make any difference, but he said it anyway. He couldn’t bear to hear the disappointment in his father’s voice.
“Now, I’m going to have to abandon a hunt because you had a thing for some girl and you couldn’t stop yourself from fighting for her? Do you know what happens when I have to leave a hunt early, Dean? People die.”
A single tear escaped Dean’s tight control and slid down his cheek. He quickly wiped it away, but not before Sammy saw. Guilt was overwhelming him, and it didn’t even help when Sammy came and hugged his waist. “Maybe you don’t have to abandon the hunt,” Dean choked out. “I think he’d probably be appeased with just a phone call for now. Maybe if it you could wrap it up within a few days . . .”
“I can’t take that risk and you know it, Dean!” his father growled.
Dean felt like an absolutely horrible person for still being glad that Dad was coming home. He’d hoped a phone call would handle it, but he really wanted out of this town, and he didn’t want to have to be in charge anymore.
“I’ve got a few things that I absolutely have to do before I can leave here. I’ll call around and see if maybe I can get another hunter to come take over. I’ll be home . . . by ten. And when I get there, Dean, I’d better find you ready for your punishment with your nose in a corner reflecting on all of this. Is that clear?”
“Yes, sir,” Dean acknowledged. He had known he’d get paddled for fighting the moment the first punch was thrown. He was prepared for that, although it was a lot scarier thought now that he could hear how very, very angry his father was.
“I don’t think I even need to warn you that it’s going to be a very severe paddling, do I, Dean?”
Any strength Dean had left in him just dissipated at those words. He’d received a few severe blisterings before, and it wasn’t something he ever wanted repeated. He must have looked a mess, because Sammy looked up at him with worry-filled eyes. “No, sir. I understand, sir.”
“Forty licks. I think you’ve earned it, and you know it. You think about why you deserve each and every one while you’re standing in the corner waiting for me tonight.”
Dean’s fingers gouged into the wood of the kitchen counter. The tight grip he held on the lip of the counter was the only thing keeping him standing upright. The room was just spinning. Forty. Forty! There was no way . . . forty! Dean couldn’t breathe, couldn’t respond.
“In the mean time while you boys are waiting you can start packing up your stuff. We’re leaving in the morning.”
“Yes, sir.” Dean finally managed to speak again. His father didn’t even say goodbye. There was just a click as he hung up the phone. Dean stood there, frozen, unable to even get his lungs to move to breathe.
Sammy was still standing right by him and looking up at him with his big puppy-dog eyes. He’d only heard half of the conversation, so he didn’t know what was going on, but he could tell from his brother’s reaction that something was really wrong. “What did he say, Dean?” Sammy whispered. “Is he coming home?”
Dean couldn’t speak, not yet. He coughed a little as he tried to pull himself together and not lose face in front of his brother. “He said . . . I’m really gonna get it, Sammy,” Dean whispered around the large lump in his throat.
Sammy looked up at him. “How many?” he asked in a whisper, like he was asking Dean to confide a secret with him.
Dean cringed. He couldn’t even say the number out loud. It had to be a joke, but his father was not the joking type. “A lot,” Dean managed to say.
“How many?” Sammy asked again, not letting it go.
“Forty,” Dean whispered under his breath, as if saying it aloud might somehow acknowledge this as real.
“Forty!” Sammy exclaimed with shock. Dean actually flinched. “Forty! There is no way, Dean! Forty! The most I’ve ever got’s twenty-five, and I couldn’t sit for a week!”
“I know,” Dean whispered. The most he’d ever got was thirty, but he didn’t feel like talking about it.
“For fighting?” Sammy asked in disbelief. “I mean, you fight all the time, Dean. Yeah, Dad gives you a few pops when you tell him because we’re not supposed to draw attention, but forty?!”
Dean swallowed and gripped the counter tighter. A part of him was echoing Sammy’s sentiments, but another part of him was overcome with guilt. He’d put Sammy in danger of being taken away, and he deserved a lot of pops for that. And he was putting people’s lives in danger by calling Dad away from his job, and there was no amount of licks that could make up for that. “I think he’s more upset about my blowing our cover and nearly getting us caught, Sammy,” he whispered.
“Did he sound super-mad?” Sammy asked with worry.
Dean nodded. “He sounded furious . . . almost . . . raw . . . so angry and frustrated. Like an angry bear.”
Sammy hugged Dean’s legs again in a show of support. It took all of Dean’s effort not to start crying right then. But he wouldn’t do that. “Go start packing up your stuff, Sammy,” Dean choked out. “Dad says we’re leaving in the morning. I’m going to go up and start on my room.”
It took a minute for Sammy to let go of his waist, but as soon as he did, Dean bolted up the stairs to his room and locked the door. Separate rooms were an extremely rare luxury he was very grateful for at the moment. He flung himself onto his bed and buried his head in his pillow. He wasn’t going to cry. He was not going to cry. This had just been such a stressful couple of weeks. The new school had been fun at first, and he’d liked that girl, Amanda. He hadn’t known she had a crazy-jealous ex-boyfriend or that she was just using Dean to make the guy realize he still cared. That she’d used him like that stung, maybe a little bit more than he was willing to admit. And what the hell was he supposed to do when crazy-boy Jeff attacked him in the hallway? Just take the punch? No way. He had a right to defend himself. Jeff was a big guy and a pretty good fighter, so he had to use his real moves. Then the stupid principal had paddled him, and it had all been downhill from there. Maybe the guy could tell that something was off because Dean wasn’t scared enough about showing his dad the discipline slip. Dean didn’t know, but then all the questions had started, and it had been truly terrifying. The threat of child protective services coming and taking his brother away was scarier than any monster he’d ever faced. He’d become the laughing stock of the whole school over falling for stupid Amanda. Whispers followed him wherever he went, and he just wanted out of this dumb town!
Now it seemed like that was actually going to happen, but not until after he really got his butt beat. Dean punched his pillow in frustration. The anger in his dad’s words burned in his chest. He was supposed to be responsible, take care of Sammy, and instead he’d nearly lost him. And if that weren’t enough, people were probably going to DIE in the town Dad was leaving because of him. The guilt was just too much. Tears burned at Dean’s eyes, and he finally let a few slip out onto his pillow. He was not going to cry and sob. He was not going to bawl here in his room like a little baby. He had a spanking coming, and he’d own up to it, take it like a man. What was done was done, and he couldn’t change it. He was not going to sob into his sheets like a little girl.
Dean took a deep breath to steady himself. Smoke. He smelled smoke. Why did he smell smoke? If Sammy had taken up smoking and was trying to destroy the evidence before Dad got home, so help him, he’d spank his brother into next week.
Investigating, Dean got up, quickly wiped his eyes to be sure no tears showed, and went into Sammy’s room to check things out. But there was no sign of his brother. Knowingly, he checked the bathroom next, but it was empty too.
Dean sniffed the air again. This didn’t smell like cigarette smoke. This smelled like real smoke, fire smoke. Panicking, Dean charged down the stairs, calling for his brother. “Sammy! Sam-my!” he yelled. Burning down the rental house was exactly what he needed to top off his time in this town.
Whatever Dean expected to see, it was not the sight that greeted him. Enormous flames engulfing the kitchen would have shocked him less. What he did see was his little brother standing over the gas stove, holding Dad’s paddle into the flame. For a long moment, Dean just stood there, blinking to verify what his eyes were telling him and attempting to process this information. He was completely frozen in disbelief.
When he finally did snap out of it, he yelled in panic, “Sammy! Oh my God, Sammy! What the hell are you doing?!” He ran to his brother’s side faster than he realized his legs could move and yanked the burning paddle from his brother’s hands. It was actually on fire. Flames licked at Dean’s hands as he threw the object into the sink and quickly turned on the water. “Please be okay, please be okay,” he whispered over and over as he let the cool water run over the paddle. He dabbed at it with a dishtowel, but there were clear scorch marks that were not coming up. “It’s not okay. Fuck, Dad is going to notice this for sure. Sam, what did you do!?!” Dean was in a full out panic.
“I’m getting rid of it, Dean,” Sam said defiantly. “I’ll burn it up so it’s gone, and then Dad can’t paddle you with it tonight. When we move in the morning and he can’t find it, he’ll just think he lost it in the move. And by the time he buys a new one, well maybe he’ll have cooled off by then.” It was obvious that Sammy was proud of his little plan. He thought he had it all worked out.
“Sam,” Dean said, in complete disbelief that he had to explain this. “If Dad can’t find his paddle tonight, he’s going to belt me!”
Sammy’s eyes went wide. He looked exactly like a deer in the headlights. He obviously hadn’t thought of that. Of course Dad had never used the belt on Sammy, so it made sense that he wouldn’t. But he had once on Dean when he’d disobeyed a direct order on a hunt and put himself in danger. Once was enough for Dean to know that he never, ever, ever wanted to experience that again.
Dean shook his head at his brother’s stupidity and turned his attention back to the paddle. There were parts of it that were black where the flames had burned it. “Tools, we need tools,” Dean said out loud. “We’ll clean it up. We can fix this. We can fix this so Dad won’t even know.”
He led Sammy into his father’s office and found the tools he’d left behind. He worked on the paddle with a knife they used for carving stakes and tried to sand it smooth again with some sandpaper. But there were some stubborn dark streaks that remained. The paddle was whole, and it was smooth again, but there was absolutely no way he’d ever get it to unnoticeable. “What the fuck am I going to do?” Dean finally muttered as he stared at the paddle in dismay.
To Dean’s surprise, Sammy burst out into tears next to him. He was actually sobbing. “Dad’s going to use his belt on both of us!” he wailed. “I’m sorry, Dean! I’m so sorry.” A hard sob interrupted his words. “I was just trying to protect you. I didn’t want Dad to hurt you, and now he’s going to really beat you AND me, and you said he’s super mad already and, it’s going to hurt so much!”
Dean pulled Sammy into his arms and hugged him, held him there. He wasn’t sure why, but the urge to protect and comfort Sammy helped him calm down. “Shh, I’ve got you, Sammy. It’s gonna be alright. First off, Dad isn’t going to hurt and beat me. He’s punishing me, because I . . . I really screwed up this time, Sammy. And I deserve it. It’s going to hurt-a-lot, but it’s to teach me. I deserve it, and it’s fair.” Dean swallowed hard. Those words were not easy to say, but he knew them to be true. He easily could have lost his little brother because of his lack of responsibility and maturity.
“But I really screwed up now too!” Sammy cried, looking hopelessly at the damaged paddle.
“I’m going to take care of this. I’ll figure out a way to get you out of the belt,” he reassured his brother. If he had to take a belting, even an extra hard one . . . Dean shuddered at the thought, but he’d live. Sammy had done this to protect him. However stupid his actions were, Dean was not going to let his brother take the belt because of that. The more important question was ‘how was he going to protect Sammy?’ There was no doubt in his mind that he’d lie for his brother. He’d cover for him, say that he did it, no matter how bad a punishment it got him, but . . . Dad would never buy it. First of all, he knew Dean too well, and Dean wasn’t that dumb or naive. And second of all, as amazing a liar as Dean was, Dad could always see right through him. Dad had taught him to lie, how to do it without giving any tells, but he always, always knew when he was lying. And lying was the easiest way to ensure they both got the belt.
Suddenly Dean realized what he was going to have to do, and his heart sank. He didn’t like it, but it would work. It was their best option. “I’m going to have to paddle you, Sammy,” he whispered sadly.
“What?!” Sammy gasped and pulled away from his brother. He looked up at him with eyes filled with betrayal. He didn’t say it out loud, but Dean could read the look. It said, “You’re going to paddle me for trying to help you?!”
“It’s the only way, Sammy,” Dean tried to explain to his brother. He tried to talk him into it gently. “Dad will never believe that I burned the paddle like that, and if we lie about it, we’re going to be in even more trouble. Dad is furious already, and I don’t want him taking how angry he is at me out on your backside. Do you? Our best option is for me to go ahead and punish you. And you should go to bed early. When Dad gets home, I tell him the truth, I’ll explain it in the most sympathetic light I can, Sammy, and I can tell him you’ve already been paddled for it. Chances are he’s not going to wake you up and belt you on an already paddled ass.”
Dean waited and gave Sammy time to process all of that. He knew it would be really hard for Sammy to agree to let Dean paddle him; Sammy did not do obedient and submissive, but Dean also knew that Sammy was smart enough to realize that he did not want their angry father blistering his ass. It took a minute, but predictably, Sammy reached the same conclusion. “This sucks!” he yelled.
“Yeah, yeah it does,” Dean agreed. He didn’t add “and not just for you,” but he thought it. The last thing he wanted to be doing when he was worried about his own punishment was spanking Sammy. But it was, quite literally in this case, for his own good. “But it’s me or Dad, Sammy. I’ll leave it your choice.” This was typical for them. Dad had given him permission to spank Sammy when he wasn’t around when they were pretty young. Dean would give him a couple of immediate swats if he did something dangerous that needed an intervention right away, but for formal punishments he always left it Sammy’s choice to take it then from his brother or to wait until Dad got home. Dean understood that being spanked by your brother had to be pretty embarrassing, but Sammy almost always chose him. There had been a few times that Sammy had been certain of his ability to talk his way out of the situation, but Dean knew that Dad had made him regret that decision. And Dean had no doubt what Sammy would choose now.
“Fine,” Sammy muttered.
Dean ruffled his hair to soften the sting. “We’re supposed to pack up, and you’re not going to want to do that on a sore bottom. So go pack up your room now, like I told you to begin with. I’ll be up in a little while to take care of this. I want you taken care of and asleep before I need to come down and wait for Dad.”
Sammy looked at him with the saddest eyes. Dean wasn’t sure if it was because he was going to have to take a paddling or if it was sympathy for what Dean was going to have to take, probably both. His brother didn’t argue. He just blinked back a few tears, nodded, and went up to his room to comply with the order.
Dean sighed. This day had been horrible, and it was only going to get worse. He checked the paddle over carefully one more time. This time he didn’t worry so much about the marks, but instead made sure it was nice and smooth, so that it wouldn’t pose a danger to Sammy. Once he was assured of its safety, he sighed once more and carried the implement upstairs. For the moment he had to push aside all thoughts about his upcoming licking and of having to spank Sammy, because he too had to pack up his room quickly so that he wouldn’t further anger his father.
---------------
Awww, Dean. I'm a Sammy girl, but the more I write of their childhood, the more I feel for Dean. I hope you enjoyed this chapter and felt for the boys too. Punishments are coming up in the next chapters. I'll try not to make you wait long. Comments would be greatly appreciated.
Edit-- Link to Part 2
Author: sirenprincess
Rating: R
Warnings: Curse words, eventually pretty severe paddling and belting
Genre: Spanking fic, angst
Characters: Dean (14), Sam (10), John
Spoilers: Season 1?
Word Count: 3,843 in part 1
Scenario: John punishes Dean, Dean punishes Sammy
Implements: Paddle, Belt
Summary: October 22, 1993 Dean gets himself in over his head while taking care of Sammy alone. He has to call a very cranky John away from a job to help, which is sure to earn him a pretty severe punishment. Sammy finds a way of getting himself into deep trouble too.
Disclaimer: This work is based on characters and situations created and owned by the CW. No money is being made, and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
This is a work of fiction and is not meant to condone spanking in real life.
Author's Notes: In Over the Impala I referenced something that had happened in the boys’ childhood. I had to write out that story, and what the characters told me actually surprised me.
This is part 1 of 3. Part one is mostly set-up and deals with the boys’ feelings, but it is entirely about the upcoming punishments. Part 2 will be Dean punishing Sammy. Part 3 will be John coming home to deal with the boys. I might add a fourth 'after' chapter as well.
I know John seems pretty harsh in this one, but I promise that will eventually be explained.
The sound of the phone ringing made both Dean and Sammy jump. Dean’s heart thudded against his chest wall as he went to answer it. ‘Please let it be Dad. Please let it be Dad,’ he thought over and over as he picked up the receiver. ‘Don’t be social services. Please be Dad.’
“Hello?” he said, trying to sound much more mature and in control than he actually was.
“Dean, what the hell is going on?” It was his father’s voice. His very angry voice, but his voice.
“Dad,” Dean sighed with relief. He was still in a lot of trouble, and he knew it, but he didn’t have to be the one making all the decisions and shouldering all the responsibility now. He had back-up now, so everything would turn out okay.
“Dean, you left me fifteen messages on my car phone and eight at the motel. It was actually enough to prompt the motel clerk to come find me in the woods! What’s going on?”
The tightness in Dean’s chest returned. He’d known this part was going to be hard, but he hadn’t realized it was going to be next to impossible to get the words out. Having to tell on yourself, report your own crime, when you were certain you were going to get a pretty decent punishment for it, well that really sucked. Usually when he had to report on himself, he could at least wait until Dad was home with his feet up relaxing. But it couldn’t wait this time. Even though Dean knew he had to do it, his body didn’t want to comply. His throat swelled shut, his mouth went dry, and his hands started to shake just the tiniest little bit. But Dean had to overcome all of that and tell Dad. He had to.
“I . . .” Dean had to cough then swallow and try again. “I got in trouble for fighting at school, sir,” Dean reported succinctly, like a good soldier. Just the facts. “I would have forged your signature to the discipline slip and informed you of the incident upon your return like I’m supposed to, but the principal is insisting on speaking with you, sir. I told him you were out of town on business, but he’s starting to pry, ask a lot of questions. I’m afraid . . .” Dean stopped himself. Fear wasn’t something his father wanted to hear about. “I think he might call social services.”
“What?” John growled. Dean flinched a little. His father sounded like an angry grizzly bear. “You’re telling me that you put yourself and your brother at risk of being taken by social services and have basically blown our cover because you were fighting at school?”
Dean swallowed hard. Dad was mad. He’d expected mad, but this was . . . really, really mad. “Yes, sir,” he replied truthfully. It was all he could say.
“What were you fighting over?”
“Uh . . .” Dean had spent so much time worrying over what he was going to do if Dad didn’t call back in time that he’d completely forgotten to prepare himself for this interrogation.
“It was over a girl, wasn’t it?” John asked knowingly.
How did his father know that? Dean wanted to lie and tell him it was over something important. He was a great liar-smooth, convincing-but, he couldn’t lie to his dad. “Yes, sir.”
“Let me ask you something else. When you got into this fight, did you fight like a normal teenager? Or did you fight like you’ve been trained to?”
Dean’s heart sunk even further. He knew the answer his father wanted to hear, and he unfortunately couldn’t give him that one. “Trained moves, sir.”
“And you didn’t think that maybe that might draw attention to yourself? That maybe that might blow your cover? Now you’ve got a principal taking notice of you. We’re lucky you and Sammy weren’t already taken. I left you in charge because I thought you were responsible.”
“I’m sorry, sir,” Dean said. He knew it didn’t matter, didn’t make any difference, but he said it anyway. He couldn’t bear to hear the disappointment in his father’s voice.
“Now, I’m going to have to abandon a hunt because you had a thing for some girl and you couldn’t stop yourself from fighting for her? Do you know what happens when I have to leave a hunt early, Dean? People die.”
A single tear escaped Dean’s tight control and slid down his cheek. He quickly wiped it away, but not before Sammy saw. Guilt was overwhelming him, and it didn’t even help when Sammy came and hugged his waist. “Maybe you don’t have to abandon the hunt,” Dean choked out. “I think he’d probably be appeased with just a phone call for now. Maybe if it you could wrap it up within a few days . . .”
“I can’t take that risk and you know it, Dean!” his father growled.
Dean felt like an absolutely horrible person for still being glad that Dad was coming home. He’d hoped a phone call would handle it, but he really wanted out of this town, and he didn’t want to have to be in charge anymore.
“I’ve got a few things that I absolutely have to do before I can leave here. I’ll call around and see if maybe I can get another hunter to come take over. I’ll be home . . . by ten. And when I get there, Dean, I’d better find you ready for your punishment with your nose in a corner reflecting on all of this. Is that clear?”
“Yes, sir,” Dean acknowledged. He had known he’d get paddled for fighting the moment the first punch was thrown. He was prepared for that, although it was a lot scarier thought now that he could hear how very, very angry his father was.
“I don’t think I even need to warn you that it’s going to be a very severe paddling, do I, Dean?”
Any strength Dean had left in him just dissipated at those words. He’d received a few severe blisterings before, and it wasn’t something he ever wanted repeated. He must have looked a mess, because Sammy looked up at him with worry-filled eyes. “No, sir. I understand, sir.”
“Forty licks. I think you’ve earned it, and you know it. You think about why you deserve each and every one while you’re standing in the corner waiting for me tonight.”
Dean’s fingers gouged into the wood of the kitchen counter. The tight grip he held on the lip of the counter was the only thing keeping him standing upright. The room was just spinning. Forty. Forty! There was no way . . . forty! Dean couldn’t breathe, couldn’t respond.
“In the mean time while you boys are waiting you can start packing up your stuff. We’re leaving in the morning.”
“Yes, sir.” Dean finally managed to speak again. His father didn’t even say goodbye. There was just a click as he hung up the phone. Dean stood there, frozen, unable to even get his lungs to move to breathe.
Sammy was still standing right by him and looking up at him with his big puppy-dog eyes. He’d only heard half of the conversation, so he didn’t know what was going on, but he could tell from his brother’s reaction that something was really wrong. “What did he say, Dean?” Sammy whispered. “Is he coming home?”
Dean couldn’t speak, not yet. He coughed a little as he tried to pull himself together and not lose face in front of his brother. “He said . . . I’m really gonna get it, Sammy,” Dean whispered around the large lump in his throat.
Sammy looked up at him. “How many?” he asked in a whisper, like he was asking Dean to confide a secret with him.
Dean cringed. He couldn’t even say the number out loud. It had to be a joke, but his father was not the joking type. “A lot,” Dean managed to say.
“How many?” Sammy asked again, not letting it go.
“Forty,” Dean whispered under his breath, as if saying it aloud might somehow acknowledge this as real.
“Forty!” Sammy exclaimed with shock. Dean actually flinched. “Forty! There is no way, Dean! Forty! The most I’ve ever got’s twenty-five, and I couldn’t sit for a week!”
“I know,” Dean whispered. The most he’d ever got was thirty, but he didn’t feel like talking about it.
“For fighting?” Sammy asked in disbelief. “I mean, you fight all the time, Dean. Yeah, Dad gives you a few pops when you tell him because we’re not supposed to draw attention, but forty?!”
Dean swallowed and gripped the counter tighter. A part of him was echoing Sammy’s sentiments, but another part of him was overcome with guilt. He’d put Sammy in danger of being taken away, and he deserved a lot of pops for that. And he was putting people’s lives in danger by calling Dad away from his job, and there was no amount of licks that could make up for that. “I think he’s more upset about my blowing our cover and nearly getting us caught, Sammy,” he whispered.
“Did he sound super-mad?” Sammy asked with worry.
Dean nodded. “He sounded furious . . . almost . . . raw . . . so angry and frustrated. Like an angry bear.”
Sammy hugged Dean’s legs again in a show of support. It took all of Dean’s effort not to start crying right then. But he wouldn’t do that. “Go start packing up your stuff, Sammy,” Dean choked out. “Dad says we’re leaving in the morning. I’m going to go up and start on my room.”
It took a minute for Sammy to let go of his waist, but as soon as he did, Dean bolted up the stairs to his room and locked the door. Separate rooms were an extremely rare luxury he was very grateful for at the moment. He flung himself onto his bed and buried his head in his pillow. He wasn’t going to cry. He was not going to cry. This had just been such a stressful couple of weeks. The new school had been fun at first, and he’d liked that girl, Amanda. He hadn’t known she had a crazy-jealous ex-boyfriend or that she was just using Dean to make the guy realize he still cared. That she’d used him like that stung, maybe a little bit more than he was willing to admit. And what the hell was he supposed to do when crazy-boy Jeff attacked him in the hallway? Just take the punch? No way. He had a right to defend himself. Jeff was a big guy and a pretty good fighter, so he had to use his real moves. Then the stupid principal had paddled him, and it had all been downhill from there. Maybe the guy could tell that something was off because Dean wasn’t scared enough about showing his dad the discipline slip. Dean didn’t know, but then all the questions had started, and it had been truly terrifying. The threat of child protective services coming and taking his brother away was scarier than any monster he’d ever faced. He’d become the laughing stock of the whole school over falling for stupid Amanda. Whispers followed him wherever he went, and he just wanted out of this dumb town!
Now it seemed like that was actually going to happen, but not until after he really got his butt beat. Dean punched his pillow in frustration. The anger in his dad’s words burned in his chest. He was supposed to be responsible, take care of Sammy, and instead he’d nearly lost him. And if that weren’t enough, people were probably going to DIE in the town Dad was leaving because of him. The guilt was just too much. Tears burned at Dean’s eyes, and he finally let a few slip out onto his pillow. He was not going to cry and sob. He was not going to bawl here in his room like a little baby. He had a spanking coming, and he’d own up to it, take it like a man. What was done was done, and he couldn’t change it. He was not going to sob into his sheets like a little girl.
Dean took a deep breath to steady himself. Smoke. He smelled smoke. Why did he smell smoke? If Sammy had taken up smoking and was trying to destroy the evidence before Dad got home, so help him, he’d spank his brother into next week.
Investigating, Dean got up, quickly wiped his eyes to be sure no tears showed, and went into Sammy’s room to check things out. But there was no sign of his brother. Knowingly, he checked the bathroom next, but it was empty too.
Dean sniffed the air again. This didn’t smell like cigarette smoke. This smelled like real smoke, fire smoke. Panicking, Dean charged down the stairs, calling for his brother. “Sammy! Sam-my!” he yelled. Burning down the rental house was exactly what he needed to top off his time in this town.
Whatever Dean expected to see, it was not the sight that greeted him. Enormous flames engulfing the kitchen would have shocked him less. What he did see was his little brother standing over the gas stove, holding Dad’s paddle into the flame. For a long moment, Dean just stood there, blinking to verify what his eyes were telling him and attempting to process this information. He was completely frozen in disbelief.
When he finally did snap out of it, he yelled in panic, “Sammy! Oh my God, Sammy! What the hell are you doing?!” He ran to his brother’s side faster than he realized his legs could move and yanked the burning paddle from his brother’s hands. It was actually on fire. Flames licked at Dean’s hands as he threw the object into the sink and quickly turned on the water. “Please be okay, please be okay,” he whispered over and over as he let the cool water run over the paddle. He dabbed at it with a dishtowel, but there were clear scorch marks that were not coming up. “It’s not okay. Fuck, Dad is going to notice this for sure. Sam, what did you do!?!” Dean was in a full out panic.
“I’m getting rid of it, Dean,” Sam said defiantly. “I’ll burn it up so it’s gone, and then Dad can’t paddle you with it tonight. When we move in the morning and he can’t find it, he’ll just think he lost it in the move. And by the time he buys a new one, well maybe he’ll have cooled off by then.” It was obvious that Sammy was proud of his little plan. He thought he had it all worked out.
“Sam,” Dean said, in complete disbelief that he had to explain this. “If Dad can’t find his paddle tonight, he’s going to belt me!”
Sammy’s eyes went wide. He looked exactly like a deer in the headlights. He obviously hadn’t thought of that. Of course Dad had never used the belt on Sammy, so it made sense that he wouldn’t. But he had once on Dean when he’d disobeyed a direct order on a hunt and put himself in danger. Once was enough for Dean to know that he never, ever, ever wanted to experience that again.
Dean shook his head at his brother’s stupidity and turned his attention back to the paddle. There were parts of it that were black where the flames had burned it. “Tools, we need tools,” Dean said out loud. “We’ll clean it up. We can fix this. We can fix this so Dad won’t even know.”
He led Sammy into his father’s office and found the tools he’d left behind. He worked on the paddle with a knife they used for carving stakes and tried to sand it smooth again with some sandpaper. But there were some stubborn dark streaks that remained. The paddle was whole, and it was smooth again, but there was absolutely no way he’d ever get it to unnoticeable. “What the fuck am I going to do?” Dean finally muttered as he stared at the paddle in dismay.
To Dean’s surprise, Sammy burst out into tears next to him. He was actually sobbing. “Dad’s going to use his belt on both of us!” he wailed. “I’m sorry, Dean! I’m so sorry.” A hard sob interrupted his words. “I was just trying to protect you. I didn’t want Dad to hurt you, and now he’s going to really beat you AND me, and you said he’s super mad already and, it’s going to hurt so much!”
Dean pulled Sammy into his arms and hugged him, held him there. He wasn’t sure why, but the urge to protect and comfort Sammy helped him calm down. “Shh, I’ve got you, Sammy. It’s gonna be alright. First off, Dad isn’t going to hurt and beat me. He’s punishing me, because I . . . I really screwed up this time, Sammy. And I deserve it. It’s going to hurt-a-lot, but it’s to teach me. I deserve it, and it’s fair.” Dean swallowed hard. Those words were not easy to say, but he knew them to be true. He easily could have lost his little brother because of his lack of responsibility and maturity.
“But I really screwed up now too!” Sammy cried, looking hopelessly at the damaged paddle.
“I’m going to take care of this. I’ll figure out a way to get you out of the belt,” he reassured his brother. If he had to take a belting, even an extra hard one . . . Dean shuddered at the thought, but he’d live. Sammy had done this to protect him. However stupid his actions were, Dean was not going to let his brother take the belt because of that. The more important question was ‘how was he going to protect Sammy?’ There was no doubt in his mind that he’d lie for his brother. He’d cover for him, say that he did it, no matter how bad a punishment it got him, but . . . Dad would never buy it. First of all, he knew Dean too well, and Dean wasn’t that dumb or naive. And second of all, as amazing a liar as Dean was, Dad could always see right through him. Dad had taught him to lie, how to do it without giving any tells, but he always, always knew when he was lying. And lying was the easiest way to ensure they both got the belt.
Suddenly Dean realized what he was going to have to do, and his heart sank. He didn’t like it, but it would work. It was their best option. “I’m going to have to paddle you, Sammy,” he whispered sadly.
“What?!” Sammy gasped and pulled away from his brother. He looked up at him with eyes filled with betrayal. He didn’t say it out loud, but Dean could read the look. It said, “You’re going to paddle me for trying to help you?!”
“It’s the only way, Sammy,” Dean tried to explain to his brother. He tried to talk him into it gently. “Dad will never believe that I burned the paddle like that, and if we lie about it, we’re going to be in even more trouble. Dad is furious already, and I don’t want him taking how angry he is at me out on your backside. Do you? Our best option is for me to go ahead and punish you. And you should go to bed early. When Dad gets home, I tell him the truth, I’ll explain it in the most sympathetic light I can, Sammy, and I can tell him you’ve already been paddled for it. Chances are he’s not going to wake you up and belt you on an already paddled ass.”
Dean waited and gave Sammy time to process all of that. He knew it would be really hard for Sammy to agree to let Dean paddle him; Sammy did not do obedient and submissive, but Dean also knew that Sammy was smart enough to realize that he did not want their angry father blistering his ass. It took a minute, but predictably, Sammy reached the same conclusion. “This sucks!” he yelled.
“Yeah, yeah it does,” Dean agreed. He didn’t add “and not just for you,” but he thought it. The last thing he wanted to be doing when he was worried about his own punishment was spanking Sammy. But it was, quite literally in this case, for his own good. “But it’s me or Dad, Sammy. I’ll leave it your choice.” This was typical for them. Dad had given him permission to spank Sammy when he wasn’t around when they were pretty young. Dean would give him a couple of immediate swats if he did something dangerous that needed an intervention right away, but for formal punishments he always left it Sammy’s choice to take it then from his brother or to wait until Dad got home. Dean understood that being spanked by your brother had to be pretty embarrassing, but Sammy almost always chose him. There had been a few times that Sammy had been certain of his ability to talk his way out of the situation, but Dean knew that Dad had made him regret that decision. And Dean had no doubt what Sammy would choose now.
“Fine,” Sammy muttered.
Dean ruffled his hair to soften the sting. “We’re supposed to pack up, and you’re not going to want to do that on a sore bottom. So go pack up your room now, like I told you to begin with. I’ll be up in a little while to take care of this. I want you taken care of and asleep before I need to come down and wait for Dad.”
Sammy looked at him with the saddest eyes. Dean wasn’t sure if it was because he was going to have to take a paddling or if it was sympathy for what Dean was going to have to take, probably both. His brother didn’t argue. He just blinked back a few tears, nodded, and went up to his room to comply with the order.
Dean sighed. This day had been horrible, and it was only going to get worse. He checked the paddle over carefully one more time. This time he didn’t worry so much about the marks, but instead made sure it was nice and smooth, so that it wouldn’t pose a danger to Sammy. Once he was assured of its safety, he sighed once more and carried the implement upstairs. For the moment he had to push aside all thoughts about his upcoming licking and of having to spank Sammy, because he too had to pack up his room quickly so that he wouldn’t further anger his father.
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Awww, Dean. I'm a Sammy girl, but the more I write of their childhood, the more I feel for Dean. I hope you enjoyed this chapter and felt for the boys too. Punishments are coming up in the next chapters. I'll try not to make you wait long. Comments would be greatly appreciated.
Edit-- Link to Part 2