Supernatural Fic: Scorch Marks Part 3 of 4
Title: Scorch Marks Part 3/4
Author: sirenprincess
Rating: R
Warnings: Curse words, pretty severe paddling and possible belt use
Genre: Spanking fic, angst
Characters: Dean (14), Sam (10), John
Spoilers: Season 1?
Word Count: 13,794 so far: 3,843 in part one, 4,857 in part two, 5,266 in part three
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: This is part 3. John comes home, and it's finally Dean's turn to be punished. It's a harsh punishment, but I don't think it's too severe for readers. I'm trying not to spoil the story, but if you're concerned about whether or not you want to read it, I'll put at the very bottom of the post what exactly Dean gets. Part 4 is going to be John's point of view, because I really want to show what's going on with him. Also in part four will be John deciding if Sammy's had enough punishment.
Part 1
Part 2
Waiting. Dean had been waiting forever. At least it felt like an eternity, but he was sure that was just because he was really dreading the blistering that he knew he had coming. Time seemed to take on different, unique properties when spanking was involved. Dean was certain if he checked the time he’d find that he had not been waiting all that long. It probably wasn’t even ten yet. But if he checked, Dean knew that his father would pick that exact moment to walk into the house, and then he’d be caught with his nose out of the corner. It wasn’t worth the risk to even look. So Dean waited.
His muscles were so sore and stiff. His legs ached. His arms ached. Dean wondered how long he’d been holding position. His legs were spread just enough so that his feet were shoulder width apart, his arms were crossed behind his back, and his nose was just brushing the corner. It was the military inspired position Dad wanted when they were supposed to be reflecting on their behavior. Dean had been staring at the peeling wallpaper for so long he thought he could draw from memory the exact pattern of the faux wood finish. But surely he was just being whiney. The last thing Dad was going to want to hear when he got home was complaints about sore muscles and excuses about why Dean was out of position. Maybe Dad was running a few minutes late. It was hard to predict travel times on country roads. But Dad would be there soon, and he’d be pleased to find Dean where he was supposed to be.
Dean was so tired. So very, very tired. He thought if he closed his eyes for just a few moments it might be possible to fall asleep standing up. It had to be emotional exhaustion from the day. He’d been so very afraid of the threat of child protective services and of losing his brother and then so relieved when Dad had called, but then so guilty and ashamed of his behavior. Paddling Sammy had been absolutely horrific, maybe the hardest thing he’d ever had to do. And now he’d been standing in the corner for a really, really long time thinking about how he’d screwed up so major this time. Dean knew that was kind of the point of corner time, to have to think about what you’d done wrong and how you would act differently in the future, but the guilt was just overwhelming to Dean, and he’d been thinking about it for so long. He swayed a little, and suddenly Dean felt like he might collapse.
Finally Dean couldn’t do it anymore. He broke position and leaned up against the wall. His arms stung with numbness, pins and needles everywhere, as circulation returned to them. Dean allowed himself the comfort of closing his eyes for just a moment until his body recovered. Once he felt steady again, Dean did what he’d been longing to do for what seemed like so long. He glanced at his watch. Twelve thirty. He’d been standing in the corner for three hours. Dean wasn’t sure if he should feel relieved to find out his exhaustion was justified or angry that his father had left him there that long. Relieved, he decided. If Dad wasn’t there and hadn’t called, then he had a good reason for it. Dad always had a really good reason. Dean refused to acknowledge a small voice in the back of his mind. Maybe Dad wasn’t there because something had gone wrong on the hunt. Maybe he was hurt. Maybe Dad was hurt because Dean had made him rush and do things differently than normal. Dean shuddered and pushed the voice out of his head.
Massaging his sore arms, Dean tried to decide what to do. What he wanted to do was to go up to bed and forget that this day had ever happened. But Dad had ordered him to have his nose in the corner when he got home, and an order was an order. He wasn’t going to fail to comply with a command, not when he was already in so much trouble. Dad would be home soon, and when he was, Dean would be glad to be where he was supposed to be. For a moment Dean stared at his belt, which was still sitting where he left it on the desk. He only briefly contemplated switching the implements, but he knew he’d made the right choice. Looking at the belt was not going to make sticking with that any easier, so Dean averted his eyes. He gave himself just a moment to shake out his limbs then returned to the corner, in proper position--arms behind his back, eyes straight ahead.
Dean lost track of how long he stood there, but eventually he did hear the sound of the door opening. Dad was home. Dean knew that he should be terrified because his licking was just minutes away, but Dean wasn’t. He was relieved. Dad was home; he was okay; his family was whole again. But there was little time to celebrate that. Any minute Dad would come through that door and punish him. Dean stiffened his pose and mentally prepared himself.
To Dean’s surprise the next sound he heard was not his father opening the door to the office Dean was in, but instead the sound of his boots going up the stairs. That was odd. It wasn’t unusual for his father to take a moment to wash up after a hunt, but this house had a downstairs master bedroom. The only rooms up the stairs were his and Sammy’s. His father had meant for him to stand in this corner, hadn’t he? Dean was certain of it. This was the corner his Dad had made him stand in before he received his punishment for mouthing off before Dad left for his trip. He was in the right place. A momentary panic spread through Dean as he thought maybe Dad was going up to punish Sammy first, but then he remembered that Dad didn’t know Sammy had done anything wrong yet. Maybe he thought Dean would have gone to bed by now. Dean was proud of himself for sticking it out and following his father’s exact orders. But his father was up there for a really long time. If he was just checking Dean’s bed, he’d have found it empty by now. Dean didn’t know what his father was doing. There was no sound for several minutes, but Dean waited.
Finally there was noise again. Dean could have sworn he heard his father sigh before the sound of his boots on the stairs vibrated through the house. And then his father opened the door to the office. He didn’t say anything. There was just another really long stretch of silence. Nervous, Dean listened intently for the softest sound to alert him what was going on behind him, but he didn’t dare break position. He could feel his father’s eyes on his back, but he wasn’t saying anything. Was that a sniffle? It sounded like . . . like his Dad was trying not to cry. But that couldn’t be right. Confused, Dean dropped his stance. “D-Dad?”
“Eyes in the corner, Dean,” his father ordered quickly. His voice sounded rough.
“Yes, sir,” Dean responded, immediately returning to perfect position. He had to have been imagining things. He’d just been up too long.
“I didn’t expect to find you still in the corner,” John finally spoke.
“Just following orders, sir,” Dean said. His father would never say it, but Dean knew his choice had pleased his father. There was a tiny hint of pride in his voice. Dean craved that sound more than anything in the entire world. He told himself it wasn’t just in his head. It was real.
“I appreciate that, son.” Dean could hear that there was a ‘but’ left off, probably ‘but you could have gone on to bed when I didn’t show,’ but his father didn’t say it. The sound of a few more steps told Dean that his father had moved further into the room. There was another long pause before his father spoke. “Dean? What’s this?”
It took Dean a moment to realize what his father was even talking about. The belt. Dean’s heart started thudding in his chest. He’d made his choice. He had to stick with it. “My belt, sir. I know I really screwed up this time, and I wanted to show you that I recognize how serious this is.”
“This wouldn’t be an attempt to convince me you’ve learned your lesson already so I’ll lessen your punishment, would it?”
“No, sir,” Dean replied. Well not the main reason anyway, but, well maybe a little bit.
“Because it might backfire on you. I might just pick that belt up and give you forty with it.”
Dean’s heart plummeted. To his dismay, he was shivering again. But he managed to keep his voice mostly even when he agreed, “Yes, sir. That’s what I’m expecting, sir.”
“What happened to the paddle, Dean?” his father asked directly.
Crap! How the hell did he do that? “Permission to turn around, sir?” Dean asked.
“Granted,” his father agreed. His father’s tone was curious, like he couldn’t even imagine where this was going to go.
Slowly Dean moved his tired limbs. He was anticipating the numbness in them, and thankfully did not stumble. He turned around while he thought of what to say. “Don’t get mad.”
“Dean, when you tell me not to get mad it just alerts me that there’s something I should be mad about.”
“Well, yes, sir, but it’s taken care of,” Dean assured his father. He took a few steps to the desk and opened the drawer. Nervously, Dean reached in and handed the scorched paddle to his father.
“What the hell happened to this?” John asked as he turned the paddle around in his hands and inspected it closely.
“Sammy tried to burn it away,” Dean said with a cringe. He hated ratting on his brother, even when Dean knew it was for the best.
John’s face turned crimson with bottled anger. His eyes were filled with shocked fury. There was an artery in his neck that always swelled and started visibly pulsating when the man was about to blow his top, and it was furiously beating away. His words came out an angry hiss between gritted teeth. “I am going to tan the hide right off him.”
Dean recognized that as just a flare of Dad‘s temper. He never really beat them. But Dad‘s growl could be really scary. Dean needed to talk him down before he decided to go wake Sammy. “Dad, please don’t punish him. I already paddled him, blistered his butt good for it. I didn’t want you to have to deal with anything more when you got home.”
“How could he be so brazen and disrespectful?!”
“Dad . . . he was just trying to protect me. You always tell us that’s more important than anything else, looking out for each other, protecting each other. That’s all he was trying to do.”
“That’s so . . . idiotic and childish. He should respect me and my authority more than that.” John was still red with anger, but the ferocity of his temper was starting to deflate a little bit.
“Dad he’s just a kid. He’s going to make dumb mistakes.”
“Well it’s about time he grew up. He’s ten years old. Dean, at ten you . . .”
Dean interrupted him. “He’s not me, Dad. He’s still just a kid. Just a little kid that made a naïve, childish decision for which he’s already been paddled.” Dean wanted to let Sammy be a kid for as long as possible; he’d even fight for it. He hadn’t been given that option, but Sammy could. He should be allowed to act ten sometimes if he needed.
John sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He was obviously still angry and disappointed, but he was calming down. “Immature, childish decisions seem to be the theme for the night.”
Dean nodded sadly, knowing his dad was talking about him now. “Yes, sir.”
“I’m very disappointed in you, Dean.”
The words knocked all of the air out of Dean’s lungs. He couldn’t breathe. It was the hardest blow his father could give him. Dean’s eyes stung horribly, and he had to blink back tears so he wouldn’t start crying. Nothing could have hurt him worse than those words.
“Bend over the desk,” his father said with a nod of his head toward the spot.
Still reeling as if he’d taken a heavy blow in a knock-out fight, Dean staggered backwards a little. Dean knew he deserved his father’s disappointment, but it hurt so very deep inside him. It took a few more blinks before Dean could even see clearly to turn around and find the desk. He felt dizzy as he obediently bent over the desk and braced himself on his forearms.
Dean was not surprised when a tug on his sleeping pants bared his bottom for his father. He glanced nervously to see what implement his father had picked up and was relieved to see it was the paddle. But his father seemed stressed and agitated as he paced the room for a moment. Dean wanted to say something to appease his father, but really, what was there to say? He’d screwed up royally this time, and he had to take his comeuppance for that.
After a very long minute, John seemed more composed as he came and rested the paddle against Dean’s exposed bottom. Just the pressure of it sitting against his tender flesh made Dean nervous. “Let’s start at the beginning of all this. You got into a fight at school over something stupid like a girl,” John began.
“Yes, sir,” Dean admitted. He swallowed hard. It was difficult to admit to your wrongdoings with a paddle against your ass.
Dean was prepared for the first hard crack of the paddle, but it still made him jerk a tiny bit. It always hurt worse than you remembered. His heart thudded in his chest. He was scared he couldn’t take this, not forty! He definitely couldn’t take them like a man, but Dean was going to try.
“And I’m sure the principal paddled you for fighting.” There really was no question there. Fighting at school, at any school, always got you paddled. Dean had been to enough to schools to discover that was a pretty universal constant.
“Yes, sir.” Another hard pop followed. Dean grunted. It really hurt!
“And then what? He just started interrogating you and asking about your parents?”
“Well . . . yeah . . . kind of,” Dean agreed. He wasn’t really sure how it had all gotten so out of hand. The principal had just been able to see right through him.
“Let me ask you something, Dean. When you were in his office after he paddled you, did you keep up your act as a normal teenage boy afraid to bring a discipline slip home to his parents, or did you maybe give him a little bit of attitude because you were angry at him for paddling you and at me for leaving you here?”
Dean cringed. He hadn’t really thought about it, but he had been in quite a mood that day. And, yeah, he’d given the principal quite a bit of attitude. He’d been pissed about the whole situation and just wanted to get his slip and get out of there. It was dumb that he had to pretend to be a child still, when he wasn’t. School altogether was stupid when there were much more important things out there. And getting paddled for something as lame as fighting was ridiculous when he should have been out there fighting monsters with Dad. “M-maybe a little bit of attitude,” Dean reluctantly admitted.
“And you didn’t think that might tip him off?” his father roared. “How many times have I told you how important it is not to draw any attention to yourself? You have to blend in! You can’t give a principal attitude without expecting him to start to take notice of you, Dean!”
Dean yelped as his bottom was peppered with a few hard swats. He knew he deserved them, though. He could see it now that his father had pointed it out. He’d been cocky and arrogant and annoyed in the principal’s office, and that was what had tipped the man off in the first place. He vaguely remembered saying something along the lines of “Fine, just give me my damn discipline slip then.”
“I’m sure you gave him the standard responses I told you to if you were cornered and questioned as to my whereabouts, but, honestly, Dean, did you put your full effort into lying correctly? Did you give it your full attention and use all of the techniques I’ve taught you?”
Dean knew for certain that he’d given his full effort into the lies recently. He’d been doing absolutely everything perfectly by the book like Dad had taught him because he was so scared, but it wasn’t working. But to start with . . . the very first questions in the principal’s office . . . Dean had been flip and casual with the man. The lies had easily rolled off his tongue, but he hadn’t really been concentrating on doing it right, giving the full act like Dad had taught him was so important. He’d been cavalier, too arrogant for his own good, and it had gotten him caught. “No, sir.”
“You have to keep up the act of whoever you’re pretending to be one hundred percent of the time, son. On a job, dropping your guard and not giving your full effort could get you caught for impersonating an officer. You’d end up in prison, Dean. I know I’ve taught you that people notice the tiniest little things. You have to be on, perfectly acting, all of the time. A half-assed job will get you busted every time.” John only gave Dean a few smacks during that long lecture, but Dean was inwardly punishing himself even more. He hadn’t even realized that he’d dropped his role in the principal’s office, but now that he did, Dean felt even guiltier. He’d put Sammy in danger. Dad had been forced to abandon a job because he’d been aloof and not put his effort into something as basic to him as lying about where his father was.
“Okay, so the principal obviously started figuring things out because of your attitude and lack of effort, but after you realized he had, what did you do?”
“Called you immediately,” Dean said with confidence. He’d been reluctant at first, but he’d done the right thing the moment there was a threat of a social worker coming.
“And?”
And? What the hell did he mean ‘and’? He’d called over and over again. What else could he have done? “Sir?” Dean asked with confusion. A hard smack of the paddled landed on his right butt cheek, causing Dean to cringe with pain. But Dean really didn’t know what answer his father wanted to hear. He’d done everything he could think of.
“When you couldn’t reach me, did you call Pastor Jim?”
“Pastor Jim? No .....” Dean’s mind still couldn’t put it together yet.
“He’s your emergency contact, isn’t he?”
“Yeah, for like broken bones or getting really sick or . . . you know . . . emergencies.” Dean realized how very stupid that sounded as he said it, but for some reason it had just never occurred to him to call Pastor Jim. He’d been in such a panic and just needed Dad so badly, he . . . hadn’t thought. He felt so stupid now.
“And you didn’t think the threat of child protective services showing up to take you away was an emergency? I don’t buy that, Dean.”
“What could he have done?” Dean gasped as the paddle impacted with his bottom a couple more times.
“Called and pretended to be your father?” John offered. “You seemed to think a phone call would help. Or came and picked you boys up, taken you somewhere safe until I could come get you? But you didn’t call him, did you, Dean?”
“No, sir,” Dean whispered, feeling like such a moron.
“Maybe you were embarrassed to tell Pastor Jim you’d been fighting, so you didn’t call him. But there are other contacts on your list. What about Bobby? Did you call Bobby?”
“No, sir,” Dean said. His heart was getting heavier and heavier by the moment. Why had he been so stupid? He was supposed to be responsible and protect Sammy. Why hadn’t he thought to get them help from someone other than Dad?
“This wouldn’t have anything to do with your wanting to come on this hunt with me, would it?” John asked.
“What?” Dean gasped in genuine shock. Yeah, he’d really wanted to go on this hunt with Dad. Dean didn’t like it when Dad worked jobs alone. He needed help out there, and Dean wanted to be with him, have his back. And, yes, Dean had thrown a fit and gotten mouthy when Dad said he couldn’t come this time. He’d been punished over this same desk for it before Dad left. But Dean didn’t understand what that had to do with what had happened.
“Oh come on, Dean! You were furious with me for telling you that this hunt was too dangerous for you to come along. You wanted to come, apparently at any cost. As soon as I leave, you just happen to get yourself in deep trouble you need help with, and it never once occurred to you to call one of your emergency contacts? You expect me to buy that? You didn’t call Pastor Jim or Bobby because you wanted me to come home. You wanted to put me in a position where I’d be forced to come pick you up and take you with me to finish the job.”
“No!” Dean cried out. His Dad was paddling him so hard now. These pops were intense, even for Dad, and they just kept coming. Dean couldn’t believe this. Dad thought . . . he thought that he’d purposefully caused this situation to get Dad to come home? Didn’t he realize how genuinely terrifying it had been for Dean? Dean knew that he’d made some big mistakes in the past couple of weeks; he’d acted irresponsibly, but he’d never purposefully cause trouble for his dad. But what if Dad didn’t believe him? What if Dad kept busting his butt this hard for a full forty pops, or maybe even more?
“Dad, I would never do that!” Dean cried out, begging, pleading for his father to believe him. “I would never put Sammy in danger of being taken by social services just for something I wanted! I’d never risk Sammy. I love him. And I’d never try to interrupt you on a hunt! I wouldn’t, Dad! I wanted to come on the hunt to protect you. You said it was dangerous, and it just made me feel like I needed to be there even more. I don’t want anything to happen to you! But I’d never, ever, ever try to interfere when you’re on a job. I could have distracted you, and you’d have gotten hurt! I wanted to help you kill the thing, not have you let it get away! I know people die ….” Dean’s voice hitched. “I know people die when we don’t finish a job. I would never do that, Dad! I’d never, ever, ever do that. I wouldn’t risk Sammy! I wouldn’t risk you! I’d never do that.” The tears were falling freely now; Dean couldn’t hold them back. He sobbed uncontrollably into his arms.
The paddle wasn’t hitting his backside anymore. It hadn’t been in quite some time, but Dean had been too caught up in emotions to notice right away. His father’s voice was much calmer now as he spoke. It almost sounded gentle, sympathetic. “Why didn’t you call Pastor Jim, Dean?”
“I don’t know,” Dean sobbed. “I was just so scared, Dad. So scared of losing Sammy, of losing you. All I could think was that I needed you.”
John sighed. “You really just panicked, didn’t you?”
Dean nodded through his tears. He was normally so composed. He could handle anything. But the idea of someone coming and taking Sammy away . . . he really had lost all rational thought.
There was a really long stretch of silence broken only by Dean’s occasional half-hushed sobs. He hadn’t received all that many with the paddle yet, not enough to make him break down like this. It was guilt that was making Dean cry. He’d messed up at every step, and Dad thought he’d done it on purpose. But he hadn’t, had he? Not even subconsciously? No, the attitude problem and the fighting were related to the anger he’d felt at being left behind, but it had never been on purpose. And it seemed, at least from the lack of smacks to his backside, that maybe Dad believed him.
“I expect more from you, Dean,” John finally said. Those words ached through Dean’s entire core. He expected more from himself too. The stern lecture continued. “If you panic on a hunt, you get yourself killed. Things are going to go badly. You’re going to make mistakes, but you have to keep your head. Panicking when things start to go wrong is just about the fastest way you can get yourself killed. You’ve been trying to convince me that you’re old enough to go on the harder hunts with me, but this just proves that you’re too immature to handle it. I’m starting to question if I should be leaving you in charge of your brother alone for long. The next couple of jobs I go on, you’re staying with a sitter. In the morning, I’m taking you to Bobby’s so I can go finish this job.”
It hurt Dean to hear that Dad didn’t trust him to take care of Sammy anymore. They hadn’t required adult supervision, even for long hunts, in quite some time. Dean knew that staying with a sitter was supposed to be a punishment, and in some ways it did grate on him, but at the same time, it sounded kind of nice to let someone else be in charge for just a little while. Bobby would make them bacon and eggs for breakfast and ribs for dinner, and Dean wouldn’t have to worry about budgeting out their money, or what happened if the hunt went long and they were out of food. Dean hated that he’d lost his Dad’s trust and confidence, but just for a little while, being taken care of sounded okay. “Yes, sir,” Dean agreed.
John let out a long breath and sat the paddle down on the desk. Dean looked up at him, confused. His dad looked so tired, so sad. “I promised you forty,” John said flatly.
Dean cringed. How many more was that? He had not taken that many, maybe . . . fifteen? He couldn’t take this, couldn’t do it. Taking twenty-five more with such a heavy, guilty heart was going to be torture.
“It’s late, and we’ve both had a rough week. Let’s just get this over with,” John said. To Dean’s horror, his father picked up the belt. Panic coursed through Dean. Putting the belt out there had been his choice, but he hadn’t . . . he was actually going to get it! Twenty-five or so with the belt! He couldn’t take it! Couldn’t! But Dad was in charge. If after hearing everything that had happened this was what he felt Dean deserved, then . . . then he would take it.
“Yes, sir,” Dean whispered and buried his head in his arms. He knew he wouldn’t make it long without sobbing like a little baby, and he didn’t want his father to really see. Dean tried to block out the sound of the belt as his father doubled it over in his hand, but it reverberated through his ears over and over again. He tensed as he felt the cool leather tap against his scorched skin as his father aimed his first swing. Tensing was going to make it hurt worse, but Dean couldn’t manage to get himself to relax. The silence was broken by a terrible crack as the belt whistled through the air. It dug into Dean’s sore bottom, bit in deep where the paddle had already been. Dean tried to keep his breathing steady as his lungs gasped for air to help him through the pain. He tried to calm himself, to force all the panic away, and find a tranquil zone to accept this, but it was hard. Without much warning, the belt whipped through the air again and made contact with Dean’s thighs. Dean screamed out. Was his father trying to kill him? Thigh shots were reserved for the very end of punishments, when there wasn’t anywhere else left to hit. His skin was so, so tender there. He knew he’d have a big welt there in the morning. And that was only lick number two!
And then John sat the belt down on the desk beside him. “All right, I think that’s enough. Pull your pants up and get on up to bed.”
Dean was sure he hadn’t heard his father right. He was supposed to get forty. He’d only received fifteen or so with the paddle and two with the belt. This couldn’t be over. “Sir?” Dean asked, confused.
“You heard me,” John growled. “Get upstairs before I change my mind.”
Dean still couldn’t believe his ears, but he was not going to stay bent over any longer than he had to. Quickly, he stood up and yanked his sleeping pants up. It stung, and he winced, but Dean knew he’d gotten off easy for all that had happened. “I’m sorry, Dad,” Dean said with fully sincerity as he stepped toward the office door. Dean knew it didn’t make any difference, but he wanted his father to know anyway.
To his great surprise, his father pulled him into a tight hug. Dad was not big into hugging, so it shocked Dean, but after a moment he realized how good it did feel to have his father’s protective arms around him. Dad was unusually emotional tonight, but Dean just stored that away for later contemplation. Dad was hugging hard enough to crack a rib, but Dean didn’t care. For the moment, it just felt good to return his father’s embrace.
The hug went on for a while. Then it was over as suddenly as it had started. Dad was his cool, usual self again. “Wake-up’s at 0500, and I don’t want to hear any grumbling out of you. You’ve got five minutes to be upstairs in your bed asleep. You’re going to need some rest before morning.”
“Yes, sir.” Dean nodded and slowly made his way up the stairs. His butt hurt, and he knew Sammy’s did too, but at least they were going to bed safe and loved. When they woke up tomorrow, it would be a better day.
------------------------
Comments would be greatly appreciated! What did you enjoy? I'd love to hear speculations about Papa Winchester too. The next chapter is his point of view.
Also, I thought I'd offer, if you didn't get to see what you wanted to see in this chapter, I can write a short little scene for you in the comments if you tell me what you did want to see. I went with what seemed to fit the story for me, but if you'd like less severe or more severe, tell me what you like and I'll write a short little comment story for you.
Did you scroll to the bottom to see what Dean gets? Dean gets 15 with a small, round paddle and 2 with the belt. There are hugs at the end.
Edit-- Link to part 4
Author: sirenprincess
Rating: R
Warnings: Curse words, pretty severe paddling and possible belt use
Genre: Spanking fic, angst
Characters: Dean (14), Sam (10), John
Spoilers: Season 1?
Word Count: 13,794 so far: 3,843 in part one, 4,857 in part two, 5,266 in part three
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: This is part 3. John comes home, and it's finally Dean's turn to be punished. It's a harsh punishment, but I don't think it's too severe for readers. I'm trying not to spoil the story, but if you're concerned about whether or not you want to read it, I'll put at the very bottom of the post what exactly Dean gets. Part 4 is going to be John's point of view, because I really want to show what's going on with him. Also in part four will be John deciding if Sammy's had enough punishment.
Part 1
Part 2
Waiting. Dean had been waiting forever. At least it felt like an eternity, but he was sure that was just because he was really dreading the blistering that he knew he had coming. Time seemed to take on different, unique properties when spanking was involved. Dean was certain if he checked the time he’d find that he had not been waiting all that long. It probably wasn’t even ten yet. But if he checked, Dean knew that his father would pick that exact moment to walk into the house, and then he’d be caught with his nose out of the corner. It wasn’t worth the risk to even look. So Dean waited.
His muscles were so sore and stiff. His legs ached. His arms ached. Dean wondered how long he’d been holding position. His legs were spread just enough so that his feet were shoulder width apart, his arms were crossed behind his back, and his nose was just brushing the corner. It was the military inspired position Dad wanted when they were supposed to be reflecting on their behavior. Dean had been staring at the peeling wallpaper for so long he thought he could draw from memory the exact pattern of the faux wood finish. But surely he was just being whiney. The last thing Dad was going to want to hear when he got home was complaints about sore muscles and excuses about why Dean was out of position. Maybe Dad was running a few minutes late. It was hard to predict travel times on country roads. But Dad would be there soon, and he’d be pleased to find Dean where he was supposed to be.
Dean was so tired. So very, very tired. He thought if he closed his eyes for just a few moments it might be possible to fall asleep standing up. It had to be emotional exhaustion from the day. He’d been so very afraid of the threat of child protective services and of losing his brother and then so relieved when Dad had called, but then so guilty and ashamed of his behavior. Paddling Sammy had been absolutely horrific, maybe the hardest thing he’d ever had to do. And now he’d been standing in the corner for a really, really long time thinking about how he’d screwed up so major this time. Dean knew that was kind of the point of corner time, to have to think about what you’d done wrong and how you would act differently in the future, but the guilt was just overwhelming to Dean, and he’d been thinking about it for so long. He swayed a little, and suddenly Dean felt like he might collapse.
Finally Dean couldn’t do it anymore. He broke position and leaned up against the wall. His arms stung with numbness, pins and needles everywhere, as circulation returned to them. Dean allowed himself the comfort of closing his eyes for just a moment until his body recovered. Once he felt steady again, Dean did what he’d been longing to do for what seemed like so long. He glanced at his watch. Twelve thirty. He’d been standing in the corner for three hours. Dean wasn’t sure if he should feel relieved to find out his exhaustion was justified or angry that his father had left him there that long. Relieved, he decided. If Dad wasn’t there and hadn’t called, then he had a good reason for it. Dad always had a really good reason. Dean refused to acknowledge a small voice in the back of his mind. Maybe Dad wasn’t there because something had gone wrong on the hunt. Maybe he was hurt. Maybe Dad was hurt because Dean had made him rush and do things differently than normal. Dean shuddered and pushed the voice out of his head.
Massaging his sore arms, Dean tried to decide what to do. What he wanted to do was to go up to bed and forget that this day had ever happened. But Dad had ordered him to have his nose in the corner when he got home, and an order was an order. He wasn’t going to fail to comply with a command, not when he was already in so much trouble. Dad would be home soon, and when he was, Dean would be glad to be where he was supposed to be. For a moment Dean stared at his belt, which was still sitting where he left it on the desk. He only briefly contemplated switching the implements, but he knew he’d made the right choice. Looking at the belt was not going to make sticking with that any easier, so Dean averted his eyes. He gave himself just a moment to shake out his limbs then returned to the corner, in proper position--arms behind his back, eyes straight ahead.
Dean lost track of how long he stood there, but eventually he did hear the sound of the door opening. Dad was home. Dean knew that he should be terrified because his licking was just minutes away, but Dean wasn’t. He was relieved. Dad was home; he was okay; his family was whole again. But there was little time to celebrate that. Any minute Dad would come through that door and punish him. Dean stiffened his pose and mentally prepared himself.
To Dean’s surprise the next sound he heard was not his father opening the door to the office Dean was in, but instead the sound of his boots going up the stairs. That was odd. It wasn’t unusual for his father to take a moment to wash up after a hunt, but this house had a downstairs master bedroom. The only rooms up the stairs were his and Sammy’s. His father had meant for him to stand in this corner, hadn’t he? Dean was certain of it. This was the corner his Dad had made him stand in before he received his punishment for mouthing off before Dad left for his trip. He was in the right place. A momentary panic spread through Dean as he thought maybe Dad was going up to punish Sammy first, but then he remembered that Dad didn’t know Sammy had done anything wrong yet. Maybe he thought Dean would have gone to bed by now. Dean was proud of himself for sticking it out and following his father’s exact orders. But his father was up there for a really long time. If he was just checking Dean’s bed, he’d have found it empty by now. Dean didn’t know what his father was doing. There was no sound for several minutes, but Dean waited.
Finally there was noise again. Dean could have sworn he heard his father sigh before the sound of his boots on the stairs vibrated through the house. And then his father opened the door to the office. He didn’t say anything. There was just another really long stretch of silence. Nervous, Dean listened intently for the softest sound to alert him what was going on behind him, but he didn’t dare break position. He could feel his father’s eyes on his back, but he wasn’t saying anything. Was that a sniffle? It sounded like . . . like his Dad was trying not to cry. But that couldn’t be right. Confused, Dean dropped his stance. “D-Dad?”
“Eyes in the corner, Dean,” his father ordered quickly. His voice sounded rough.
“Yes, sir,” Dean responded, immediately returning to perfect position. He had to have been imagining things. He’d just been up too long.
“I didn’t expect to find you still in the corner,” John finally spoke.
“Just following orders, sir,” Dean said. His father would never say it, but Dean knew his choice had pleased his father. There was a tiny hint of pride in his voice. Dean craved that sound more than anything in the entire world. He told himself it wasn’t just in his head. It was real.
“I appreciate that, son.” Dean could hear that there was a ‘but’ left off, probably ‘but you could have gone on to bed when I didn’t show,’ but his father didn’t say it. The sound of a few more steps told Dean that his father had moved further into the room. There was another long pause before his father spoke. “Dean? What’s this?”
It took Dean a moment to realize what his father was even talking about. The belt. Dean’s heart started thudding in his chest. He’d made his choice. He had to stick with it. “My belt, sir. I know I really screwed up this time, and I wanted to show you that I recognize how serious this is.”
“This wouldn’t be an attempt to convince me you’ve learned your lesson already so I’ll lessen your punishment, would it?”
“No, sir,” Dean replied. Well not the main reason anyway, but, well maybe a little bit.
“Because it might backfire on you. I might just pick that belt up and give you forty with it.”
Dean’s heart plummeted. To his dismay, he was shivering again. But he managed to keep his voice mostly even when he agreed, “Yes, sir. That’s what I’m expecting, sir.”
“What happened to the paddle, Dean?” his father asked directly.
Crap! How the hell did he do that? “Permission to turn around, sir?” Dean asked.
“Granted,” his father agreed. His father’s tone was curious, like he couldn’t even imagine where this was going to go.
Slowly Dean moved his tired limbs. He was anticipating the numbness in them, and thankfully did not stumble. He turned around while he thought of what to say. “Don’t get mad.”
“Dean, when you tell me not to get mad it just alerts me that there’s something I should be mad about.”
“Well, yes, sir, but it’s taken care of,” Dean assured his father. He took a few steps to the desk and opened the drawer. Nervously, Dean reached in and handed the scorched paddle to his father.
“What the hell happened to this?” John asked as he turned the paddle around in his hands and inspected it closely.
“Sammy tried to burn it away,” Dean said with a cringe. He hated ratting on his brother, even when Dean knew it was for the best.
John’s face turned crimson with bottled anger. His eyes were filled with shocked fury. There was an artery in his neck that always swelled and started visibly pulsating when the man was about to blow his top, and it was furiously beating away. His words came out an angry hiss between gritted teeth. “I am going to tan the hide right off him.”
Dean recognized that as just a flare of Dad‘s temper. He never really beat them. But Dad‘s growl could be really scary. Dean needed to talk him down before he decided to go wake Sammy. “Dad, please don’t punish him. I already paddled him, blistered his butt good for it. I didn’t want you to have to deal with anything more when you got home.”
“How could he be so brazen and disrespectful?!”
“Dad . . . he was just trying to protect me. You always tell us that’s more important than anything else, looking out for each other, protecting each other. That’s all he was trying to do.”
“That’s so . . . idiotic and childish. He should respect me and my authority more than that.” John was still red with anger, but the ferocity of his temper was starting to deflate a little bit.
“Dad he’s just a kid. He’s going to make dumb mistakes.”
“Well it’s about time he grew up. He’s ten years old. Dean, at ten you . . .”
Dean interrupted him. “He’s not me, Dad. He’s still just a kid. Just a little kid that made a naïve, childish decision for which he’s already been paddled.” Dean wanted to let Sammy be a kid for as long as possible; he’d even fight for it. He hadn’t been given that option, but Sammy could. He should be allowed to act ten sometimes if he needed.
John sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He was obviously still angry and disappointed, but he was calming down. “Immature, childish decisions seem to be the theme for the night.”
Dean nodded sadly, knowing his dad was talking about him now. “Yes, sir.”
“I’m very disappointed in you, Dean.”
The words knocked all of the air out of Dean’s lungs. He couldn’t breathe. It was the hardest blow his father could give him. Dean’s eyes stung horribly, and he had to blink back tears so he wouldn’t start crying. Nothing could have hurt him worse than those words.
“Bend over the desk,” his father said with a nod of his head toward the spot.
Still reeling as if he’d taken a heavy blow in a knock-out fight, Dean staggered backwards a little. Dean knew he deserved his father’s disappointment, but it hurt so very deep inside him. It took a few more blinks before Dean could even see clearly to turn around and find the desk. He felt dizzy as he obediently bent over the desk and braced himself on his forearms.
Dean was not surprised when a tug on his sleeping pants bared his bottom for his father. He glanced nervously to see what implement his father had picked up and was relieved to see it was the paddle. But his father seemed stressed and agitated as he paced the room for a moment. Dean wanted to say something to appease his father, but really, what was there to say? He’d screwed up royally this time, and he had to take his comeuppance for that.
After a very long minute, John seemed more composed as he came and rested the paddle against Dean’s exposed bottom. Just the pressure of it sitting against his tender flesh made Dean nervous. “Let’s start at the beginning of all this. You got into a fight at school over something stupid like a girl,” John began.
“Yes, sir,” Dean admitted. He swallowed hard. It was difficult to admit to your wrongdoings with a paddle against your ass.
Dean was prepared for the first hard crack of the paddle, but it still made him jerk a tiny bit. It always hurt worse than you remembered. His heart thudded in his chest. He was scared he couldn’t take this, not forty! He definitely couldn’t take them like a man, but Dean was going to try.
“And I’m sure the principal paddled you for fighting.” There really was no question there. Fighting at school, at any school, always got you paddled. Dean had been to enough to schools to discover that was a pretty universal constant.
“Yes, sir.” Another hard pop followed. Dean grunted. It really hurt!
“And then what? He just started interrogating you and asking about your parents?”
“Well . . . yeah . . . kind of,” Dean agreed. He wasn’t really sure how it had all gotten so out of hand. The principal had just been able to see right through him.
“Let me ask you something, Dean. When you were in his office after he paddled you, did you keep up your act as a normal teenage boy afraid to bring a discipline slip home to his parents, or did you maybe give him a little bit of attitude because you were angry at him for paddling you and at me for leaving you here?”
Dean cringed. He hadn’t really thought about it, but he had been in quite a mood that day. And, yeah, he’d given the principal quite a bit of attitude. He’d been pissed about the whole situation and just wanted to get his slip and get out of there. It was dumb that he had to pretend to be a child still, when he wasn’t. School altogether was stupid when there were much more important things out there. And getting paddled for something as lame as fighting was ridiculous when he should have been out there fighting monsters with Dad. “M-maybe a little bit of attitude,” Dean reluctantly admitted.
“And you didn’t think that might tip him off?” his father roared. “How many times have I told you how important it is not to draw any attention to yourself? You have to blend in! You can’t give a principal attitude without expecting him to start to take notice of you, Dean!”
Dean yelped as his bottom was peppered with a few hard swats. He knew he deserved them, though. He could see it now that his father had pointed it out. He’d been cocky and arrogant and annoyed in the principal’s office, and that was what had tipped the man off in the first place. He vaguely remembered saying something along the lines of “Fine, just give me my damn discipline slip then.”
“I’m sure you gave him the standard responses I told you to if you were cornered and questioned as to my whereabouts, but, honestly, Dean, did you put your full effort into lying correctly? Did you give it your full attention and use all of the techniques I’ve taught you?”
Dean knew for certain that he’d given his full effort into the lies recently. He’d been doing absolutely everything perfectly by the book like Dad had taught him because he was so scared, but it wasn’t working. But to start with . . . the very first questions in the principal’s office . . . Dean had been flip and casual with the man. The lies had easily rolled off his tongue, but he hadn’t really been concentrating on doing it right, giving the full act like Dad had taught him was so important. He’d been cavalier, too arrogant for his own good, and it had gotten him caught. “No, sir.”
“You have to keep up the act of whoever you’re pretending to be one hundred percent of the time, son. On a job, dropping your guard and not giving your full effort could get you caught for impersonating an officer. You’d end up in prison, Dean. I know I’ve taught you that people notice the tiniest little things. You have to be on, perfectly acting, all of the time. A half-assed job will get you busted every time.” John only gave Dean a few smacks during that long lecture, but Dean was inwardly punishing himself even more. He hadn’t even realized that he’d dropped his role in the principal’s office, but now that he did, Dean felt even guiltier. He’d put Sammy in danger. Dad had been forced to abandon a job because he’d been aloof and not put his effort into something as basic to him as lying about where his father was.
“Okay, so the principal obviously started figuring things out because of your attitude and lack of effort, but after you realized he had, what did you do?”
“Called you immediately,” Dean said with confidence. He’d been reluctant at first, but he’d done the right thing the moment there was a threat of a social worker coming.
“And?”
And? What the hell did he mean ‘and’? He’d called over and over again. What else could he have done? “Sir?” Dean asked with confusion. A hard smack of the paddled landed on his right butt cheek, causing Dean to cringe with pain. But Dean really didn’t know what answer his father wanted to hear. He’d done everything he could think of.
“When you couldn’t reach me, did you call Pastor Jim?”
“Pastor Jim? No .....” Dean’s mind still couldn’t put it together yet.
“He’s your emergency contact, isn’t he?”
“Yeah, for like broken bones or getting really sick or . . . you know . . . emergencies.” Dean realized how very stupid that sounded as he said it, but for some reason it had just never occurred to him to call Pastor Jim. He’d been in such a panic and just needed Dad so badly, he . . . hadn’t thought. He felt so stupid now.
“And you didn’t think the threat of child protective services showing up to take you away was an emergency? I don’t buy that, Dean.”
“What could he have done?” Dean gasped as the paddle impacted with his bottom a couple more times.
“Called and pretended to be your father?” John offered. “You seemed to think a phone call would help. Or came and picked you boys up, taken you somewhere safe until I could come get you? But you didn’t call him, did you, Dean?”
“No, sir,” Dean whispered, feeling like such a moron.
“Maybe you were embarrassed to tell Pastor Jim you’d been fighting, so you didn’t call him. But there are other contacts on your list. What about Bobby? Did you call Bobby?”
“No, sir,” Dean said. His heart was getting heavier and heavier by the moment. Why had he been so stupid? He was supposed to be responsible and protect Sammy. Why hadn’t he thought to get them help from someone other than Dad?
“This wouldn’t have anything to do with your wanting to come on this hunt with me, would it?” John asked.
“What?” Dean gasped in genuine shock. Yeah, he’d really wanted to go on this hunt with Dad. Dean didn’t like it when Dad worked jobs alone. He needed help out there, and Dean wanted to be with him, have his back. And, yes, Dean had thrown a fit and gotten mouthy when Dad said he couldn’t come this time. He’d been punished over this same desk for it before Dad left. But Dean didn’t understand what that had to do with what had happened.
“Oh come on, Dean! You were furious with me for telling you that this hunt was too dangerous for you to come along. You wanted to come, apparently at any cost. As soon as I leave, you just happen to get yourself in deep trouble you need help with, and it never once occurred to you to call one of your emergency contacts? You expect me to buy that? You didn’t call Pastor Jim or Bobby because you wanted me to come home. You wanted to put me in a position where I’d be forced to come pick you up and take you with me to finish the job.”
“No!” Dean cried out. His Dad was paddling him so hard now. These pops were intense, even for Dad, and they just kept coming. Dean couldn’t believe this. Dad thought . . . he thought that he’d purposefully caused this situation to get Dad to come home? Didn’t he realize how genuinely terrifying it had been for Dean? Dean knew that he’d made some big mistakes in the past couple of weeks; he’d acted irresponsibly, but he’d never purposefully cause trouble for his dad. But what if Dad didn’t believe him? What if Dad kept busting his butt this hard for a full forty pops, or maybe even more?
“Dad, I would never do that!” Dean cried out, begging, pleading for his father to believe him. “I would never put Sammy in danger of being taken by social services just for something I wanted! I’d never risk Sammy. I love him. And I’d never try to interrupt you on a hunt! I wouldn’t, Dad! I wanted to come on the hunt to protect you. You said it was dangerous, and it just made me feel like I needed to be there even more. I don’t want anything to happen to you! But I’d never, ever, ever try to interfere when you’re on a job. I could have distracted you, and you’d have gotten hurt! I wanted to help you kill the thing, not have you let it get away! I know people die ….” Dean’s voice hitched. “I know people die when we don’t finish a job. I would never do that, Dad! I’d never, ever, ever do that. I wouldn’t risk Sammy! I wouldn’t risk you! I’d never do that.” The tears were falling freely now; Dean couldn’t hold them back. He sobbed uncontrollably into his arms.
The paddle wasn’t hitting his backside anymore. It hadn’t been in quite some time, but Dean had been too caught up in emotions to notice right away. His father’s voice was much calmer now as he spoke. It almost sounded gentle, sympathetic. “Why didn’t you call Pastor Jim, Dean?”
“I don’t know,” Dean sobbed. “I was just so scared, Dad. So scared of losing Sammy, of losing you. All I could think was that I needed you.”
John sighed. “You really just panicked, didn’t you?”
Dean nodded through his tears. He was normally so composed. He could handle anything. But the idea of someone coming and taking Sammy away . . . he really had lost all rational thought.
There was a really long stretch of silence broken only by Dean’s occasional half-hushed sobs. He hadn’t received all that many with the paddle yet, not enough to make him break down like this. It was guilt that was making Dean cry. He’d messed up at every step, and Dad thought he’d done it on purpose. But he hadn’t, had he? Not even subconsciously? No, the attitude problem and the fighting were related to the anger he’d felt at being left behind, but it had never been on purpose. And it seemed, at least from the lack of smacks to his backside, that maybe Dad believed him.
“I expect more from you, Dean,” John finally said. Those words ached through Dean’s entire core. He expected more from himself too. The stern lecture continued. “If you panic on a hunt, you get yourself killed. Things are going to go badly. You’re going to make mistakes, but you have to keep your head. Panicking when things start to go wrong is just about the fastest way you can get yourself killed. You’ve been trying to convince me that you’re old enough to go on the harder hunts with me, but this just proves that you’re too immature to handle it. I’m starting to question if I should be leaving you in charge of your brother alone for long. The next couple of jobs I go on, you’re staying with a sitter. In the morning, I’m taking you to Bobby’s so I can go finish this job.”
It hurt Dean to hear that Dad didn’t trust him to take care of Sammy anymore. They hadn’t required adult supervision, even for long hunts, in quite some time. Dean knew that staying with a sitter was supposed to be a punishment, and in some ways it did grate on him, but at the same time, it sounded kind of nice to let someone else be in charge for just a little while. Bobby would make them bacon and eggs for breakfast and ribs for dinner, and Dean wouldn’t have to worry about budgeting out their money, or what happened if the hunt went long and they were out of food. Dean hated that he’d lost his Dad’s trust and confidence, but just for a little while, being taken care of sounded okay. “Yes, sir,” Dean agreed.
John let out a long breath and sat the paddle down on the desk. Dean looked up at him, confused. His dad looked so tired, so sad. “I promised you forty,” John said flatly.
Dean cringed. How many more was that? He had not taken that many, maybe . . . fifteen? He couldn’t take this, couldn’t do it. Taking twenty-five more with such a heavy, guilty heart was going to be torture.
“It’s late, and we’ve both had a rough week. Let’s just get this over with,” John said. To Dean’s horror, his father picked up the belt. Panic coursed through Dean. Putting the belt out there had been his choice, but he hadn’t . . . he was actually going to get it! Twenty-five or so with the belt! He couldn’t take it! Couldn’t! But Dad was in charge. If after hearing everything that had happened this was what he felt Dean deserved, then . . . then he would take it.
“Yes, sir,” Dean whispered and buried his head in his arms. He knew he wouldn’t make it long without sobbing like a little baby, and he didn’t want his father to really see. Dean tried to block out the sound of the belt as his father doubled it over in his hand, but it reverberated through his ears over and over again. He tensed as he felt the cool leather tap against his scorched skin as his father aimed his first swing. Tensing was going to make it hurt worse, but Dean couldn’t manage to get himself to relax. The silence was broken by a terrible crack as the belt whistled through the air. It dug into Dean’s sore bottom, bit in deep where the paddle had already been. Dean tried to keep his breathing steady as his lungs gasped for air to help him through the pain. He tried to calm himself, to force all the panic away, and find a tranquil zone to accept this, but it was hard. Without much warning, the belt whipped through the air again and made contact with Dean’s thighs. Dean screamed out. Was his father trying to kill him? Thigh shots were reserved for the very end of punishments, when there wasn’t anywhere else left to hit. His skin was so, so tender there. He knew he’d have a big welt there in the morning. And that was only lick number two!
And then John sat the belt down on the desk beside him. “All right, I think that’s enough. Pull your pants up and get on up to bed.”
Dean was sure he hadn’t heard his father right. He was supposed to get forty. He’d only received fifteen or so with the paddle and two with the belt. This couldn’t be over. “Sir?” Dean asked, confused.
“You heard me,” John growled. “Get upstairs before I change my mind.”
Dean still couldn’t believe his ears, but he was not going to stay bent over any longer than he had to. Quickly, he stood up and yanked his sleeping pants up. It stung, and he winced, but Dean knew he’d gotten off easy for all that had happened. “I’m sorry, Dad,” Dean said with fully sincerity as he stepped toward the office door. Dean knew it didn’t make any difference, but he wanted his father to know anyway.
To his great surprise, his father pulled him into a tight hug. Dad was not big into hugging, so it shocked Dean, but after a moment he realized how good it did feel to have his father’s protective arms around him. Dad was unusually emotional tonight, but Dean just stored that away for later contemplation. Dad was hugging hard enough to crack a rib, but Dean didn’t care. For the moment, it just felt good to return his father’s embrace.
The hug went on for a while. Then it was over as suddenly as it had started. Dad was his cool, usual self again. “Wake-up’s at 0500, and I don’t want to hear any grumbling out of you. You’ve got five minutes to be upstairs in your bed asleep. You’re going to need some rest before morning.”
“Yes, sir.” Dean nodded and slowly made his way up the stairs. His butt hurt, and he knew Sammy’s did too, but at least they were going to bed safe and loved. When they woke up tomorrow, it would be a better day.
------------------------
Comments would be greatly appreciated! What did you enjoy? I'd love to hear speculations about Papa Winchester too. The next chapter is his point of view.
Also, I thought I'd offer, if you didn't get to see what you wanted to see in this chapter, I can write a short little scene for you in the comments if you tell me what you did want to see. I went with what seemed to fit the story for me, but if you'd like less severe or more severe, tell me what you like and I'll write a short little comment story for you.
Did you scroll to the bottom to see what Dean gets? Dean gets 15 with a small, round paddle and 2 with the belt. There are hugs at the end.
Edit-- Link to part 4