WBY - My mission is...
Title: WBY My Mission Is…
Characters: John
Gen, PG for language.
Summary: For spankedbyspike 's Spring Challenge - Prompt: My mission is. First person POV - John’s perspective. It’s kind of a follow up to the previous fic…Rules and Allowances. http://wildblueyonder6.livejournal.com/15235.html Not necessary to read it but you might like to. It's part of a trilogy of sorts ending in Deathwish http://://wildblueyonder6.livejournal.com/15827.html#cutid1
WARNING: Please note this discusses parental spanking. The others may have an actual spanking in them. If it offends you, please don't read.
I love my boys. There’ve been times when I could barely tolerate them though. Like when Dean was ten and decided to blow up the old shed at the house we were living at. That had ended regrettably for everyone involved.
Or when Sammy determined that Lady Chatterley’s Lover was appropriate reading material for a nine year old. I probably would’ve minded less if the kid had smuggled in porn, but I glanced at the damn thing and nine year olds didn’t need be reading that stuff. Sam’s indignant huff about classic fiction did nothing to change my mind on it.
So my kids are above the bell curve on a lot of things. They’re smart, they’re independent and they get into more trouble than a barrel full of monkeys. They’re sneaky enough to get away with a lot of it too. God knows how many things have happened that I haven’t been aware of. Of course, the fact that I’m not aware of them is my own personal secret. I need the boys to think I know everything they do. I don’t care if they believe it’s parental magic or John Winchester mojo - doesn’t matter. If I cut them a break, I’ve got to let them think I’m cutting them a break, not that I didn’t know about it in the first place.
It’s strange parenting for sure but my boys being my boys? Well, they just have to believe that I will find out.
On the outside chance that I don’t find out and they make it through whatever Winchester mischief they get into - well, I figure they got lucky and maybe it will make them a little smarter or sneakier. Whatever. For me, smart and sneaky are skills that I’ve been known to encourage.
I figure that’s my mission, other than killing that sonofabitch that killed my wife - to make sure that my kids believe - truly believe - that I will figure out whatever shit they’ve gotten into while I’m away and that the repercussions will be appropriate to the crime. Since I spend some considerable time away - well, it’s necessary.
It’s kind of like I’m the “guilty conscious” that folks sometimes talked about. Except I’m sitting smack dab on Sam and Dean’s right shoulder with my hand on my belt and a glare that has been known to strike terror in the hearts of my children.
Then again, maybe not terror. My kids aren’t terrified of me but they do have a healthy fear of my right hand or sometimes, now that they’re a bit older, my old leather belt.
My belt’s seen some action other than holding up my jeans.
I don’t feel bad about that either. My old man spanked the hell out of me and I turned out mostly okay. Now don’t get me wrong I don’t go around beating on my kids and I use other means of discipline too. PT is a pretty good method of drilling home unacceptable behavior, grounding works too - depending on the situation - but sometimes, at least for my boys, a good old-fashioned “what for” seems to do the trick.
My boys very seldom get a licking twice for the same offence. Either they wise up and stop it entirely or they find a way to sneak around so that I don’t find out.
I’m not quite sure how I feel about that.
I like that it shows their initiative and the fact that they can think on their feet. They learned that from me so it’s kind of hard to be pissed at something I taught them. It’s a part of the skill set they need for hunting. Let’s face it, hunting requires skills that most folks don’t need. Or if they do need them, they are criminals. I suppose my boys might seem like criminals to some. But they’re not. They can work a con or a scam as easily as most kids play their damn video games. There’s value in that in our business. But pulling something over on me? Well, I just can’t let that go.
Did I mention they’re really smart kids?
So I have to let them think I know it all and yet selectively allow them get away with shit.
Strange, I know, but it works for me.
Because there are some things that there’s some wiggle room on and others that there’s no way in hell those boys are gonna get away with. The boys pretty much know where they stand in the scheme of things and where the lines are drawn in the sand.
A perfect for instance is manners and cussing. I cuss like a - well - like a Marine. My boys do too. I don’t mind it too much but I don’t like f-bombs floating all over the place. Still, they need to know when and where it’s acceptable. Listening to them fight? Well, they can get pretty damn creative with their list of bodily functions and positions a person could get into. Not to mention interesting names. One of my favorites and you’ll never get me to tell anyone that I almost spit a mouthful of perfectly good coffee across the room the first time I heard it.
Fucknuckle.
I don’t even wanna know.
They’re boys and well, I get it. We sure aren’t the Bradys. When they don’t think I’m around they tend to talk a little trash or mutter stuff under their breaths so that I don’t have to notice. Or if they are really fighting? Well, I get that too. You just naturally wanted to throw in expletives when you’re pissed off.
Those two have had a few serious throw downs but mostly its just good-natured fighting. Or sparing that gets a little too rough. But it can escalate from a little off color to down right vulgar. That’s the boys talking smack with each other.
But they sure as hell better not be talking to me like that. Talking around me? Maybe. But even then they tend to limit themselves to “ass,” “shit” and of course, Dean’s bitch to Sam’s jerk. For some reason, “Dickwad” seems to be a favorite expression.
So, I’m a little lax with it once in a while. Mary’d probably kick my ass for letting some of the language go and I guess if she was around, none of us would be the foul mouth SOBs we are sometimes. Hell, my old man would have knocked me into next week if I’d have said anything resembling a curse word in front of my mom.
Then again, a lot of things would have been different if Mary were around.
But if they’re working a case - they both knew I expect them to keep their four letter mouths shut. They say ma’am and sir, they hold the doors for women, as long as they aren’t the bad guys. They’ve even been known to stand when a lady enters the room. A little bit of manners never hurt anyone and my boys know what’s expected of them. I’m pretty sure they have no idea which is a salad fork and which is the regular fork but I don’t know either, so who cares? Come to think of it, Sammy may know something like that, the kid’s got a freaking dictionary for a brain. The point of it is - they know there’s a time and a place for it.
They know when to straighten up and act like they weren’t brought up in a barn or in our case, a car. Usually. And when they have a dumbass moment, a quick word, a sharp head smack or my patented Winchester look and both boys usually straighten up.
Usually.
I very seldom have to resort to an honest to God ass whipping but I’ve found my hand on Winchester boy ass makes a pretty good impression on those two troublemakers. Don’t get me wrong, like I said before, they don’t always find themselves ass over teakettle, but some times it just seems to be the most effective thing at the time. Plus it’s not like I can take away shit they don’t have. My kids don’t have Atari or whatever the fuck those video games are. They never have had a lot in terms of shit like that. Although Dean does have an old Walkman that he fixed up. I suppose I could take that away from him. Sam, what am I gonna do with him? No - “you can’t read that Geometry book?” Now, Bobby comes up with creative punishments with the boys. Truthfully, more power to him, but I just plain don’t have the patience for making them translate Latin or organize the bookshelves. Hell, I don’t have bookshelves. The point is, once in a while, a good kick in the ass does wonders for a kid. Once in a while it backfires too, but mostly that’s with Sam and that’s because he thinks physical punishment is archaic.
They’re different, my boys. Sam’ll try to argue himself out of a punishment, any punishment. There’s always a reason why he’s right and I’m wrong. Again, I don’t have a lot of patience, but if he’s got a really good reason for breaking the rules? Well, I’ll listen but that’s about it. I truthfully can say I can’t remember one time he convinced me to change my mind once I’d made it up.
I suppose I’m as stubborn as he is.
Now Dean? He just takes whatever I dish out without a rub. He knows the score and figures he knows what he’s done and if he was stupid enough to get caught, well shame on him.
That’s not to say that Dean doesn’t stand up for himself. He isn’t afraid of me hearing his side of things but usually he knows he’s fucked something up if I’m fixing to whup his ass.
Honestly though, I can’t complain. They’re good boys. True, they get into some shit and they're both hard headed at times. Dean’s got a wild streak in him that gets him in hot water routinely and Sammy? Sammy holds onto grudges like they are fucking gold. My boys? They’ve got lot on their shoulders and I demand a lot out of them.
But they’re tough.
They’re becoming good hunters too, Dean’s got the gut instinct and Sam’s really catching on. Together they are a hell of a good team.
So yeah, I’m a tough dad. Not always the most understanding at times and I’ve been known come down hard on them once in a while. Maybe I’m right, maybe I’m wrong but making my boys toe the line keeps them safe and that’s what it’s all about.
That’s what it’s always been about.
end
Characters: John
Gen, PG for language.
Summary: For spankedbyspike 's Spring Challenge - Prompt: My mission is. First person POV - John’s perspective. It’s kind of a follow up to the previous fic…Rules and Allowances. http://wildblueyonder6.livejournal.com/15235.html Not necessary to read it but you might like to. It's part of a trilogy of sorts ending in Deathwish http://://wildblueyonder6.livejournal.com/15827.html#cutid1
WARNING: Please note this discusses parental spanking. The others may have an actual spanking in them. If it offends you, please don't read.
I love my boys. There’ve been times when I could barely tolerate them though. Like when Dean was ten and decided to blow up the old shed at the house we were living at. That had ended regrettably for everyone involved.
Or when Sammy determined that Lady Chatterley’s Lover was appropriate reading material for a nine year old. I probably would’ve minded less if the kid had smuggled in porn, but I glanced at the damn thing and nine year olds didn’t need be reading that stuff. Sam’s indignant huff about classic fiction did nothing to change my mind on it.
So my kids are above the bell curve on a lot of things. They’re smart, they’re independent and they get into more trouble than a barrel full of monkeys. They’re sneaky enough to get away with a lot of it too. God knows how many things have happened that I haven’t been aware of. Of course, the fact that I’m not aware of them is my own personal secret. I need the boys to think I know everything they do. I don’t care if they believe it’s parental magic or John Winchester mojo - doesn’t matter. If I cut them a break, I’ve got to let them think I’m cutting them a break, not that I didn’t know about it in the first place.
It’s strange parenting for sure but my boys being my boys? Well, they just have to believe that I will find out.
On the outside chance that I don’t find out and they make it through whatever Winchester mischief they get into - well, I figure they got lucky and maybe it will make them a little smarter or sneakier. Whatever. For me, smart and sneaky are skills that I’ve been known to encourage.
I figure that’s my mission, other than killing that sonofabitch that killed my wife - to make sure that my kids believe - truly believe - that I will figure out whatever shit they’ve gotten into while I’m away and that the repercussions will be appropriate to the crime. Since I spend some considerable time away - well, it’s necessary.
It’s kind of like I’m the “guilty conscious” that folks sometimes talked about. Except I’m sitting smack dab on Sam and Dean’s right shoulder with my hand on my belt and a glare that has been known to strike terror in the hearts of my children.
Then again, maybe not terror. My kids aren’t terrified of me but they do have a healthy fear of my right hand or sometimes, now that they’re a bit older, my old leather belt.
My belt’s seen some action other than holding up my jeans.
I don’t feel bad about that either. My old man spanked the hell out of me and I turned out mostly okay. Now don’t get me wrong I don’t go around beating on my kids and I use other means of discipline too. PT is a pretty good method of drilling home unacceptable behavior, grounding works too - depending on the situation - but sometimes, at least for my boys, a good old-fashioned “what for” seems to do the trick.
My boys very seldom get a licking twice for the same offence. Either they wise up and stop it entirely or they find a way to sneak around so that I don’t find out.
I’m not quite sure how I feel about that.
I like that it shows their initiative and the fact that they can think on their feet. They learned that from me so it’s kind of hard to be pissed at something I taught them. It’s a part of the skill set they need for hunting. Let’s face it, hunting requires skills that most folks don’t need. Or if they do need them, they are criminals. I suppose my boys might seem like criminals to some. But they’re not. They can work a con or a scam as easily as most kids play their damn video games. There’s value in that in our business. But pulling something over on me? Well, I just can’t let that go.
Did I mention they’re really smart kids?
So I have to let them think I know it all and yet selectively allow them get away with shit.
Strange, I know, but it works for me.
Because there are some things that there’s some wiggle room on and others that there’s no way in hell those boys are gonna get away with. The boys pretty much know where they stand in the scheme of things and where the lines are drawn in the sand.
A perfect for instance is manners and cussing. I cuss like a - well - like a Marine. My boys do too. I don’t mind it too much but I don’t like f-bombs floating all over the place. Still, they need to know when and where it’s acceptable. Listening to them fight? Well, they can get pretty damn creative with their list of bodily functions and positions a person could get into. Not to mention interesting names. One of my favorites and you’ll never get me to tell anyone that I almost spit a mouthful of perfectly good coffee across the room the first time I heard it.
Fucknuckle.
I don’t even wanna know.
They’re boys and well, I get it. We sure aren’t the Bradys. When they don’t think I’m around they tend to talk a little trash or mutter stuff under their breaths so that I don’t have to notice. Or if they are really fighting? Well, I get that too. You just naturally wanted to throw in expletives when you’re pissed off.
Those two have had a few serious throw downs but mostly its just good-natured fighting. Or sparing that gets a little too rough. But it can escalate from a little off color to down right vulgar. That’s the boys talking smack with each other.
But they sure as hell better not be talking to me like that. Talking around me? Maybe. But even then they tend to limit themselves to “ass,” “shit” and of course, Dean’s bitch to Sam’s jerk. For some reason, “Dickwad” seems to be a favorite expression.
So, I’m a little lax with it once in a while. Mary’d probably kick my ass for letting some of the language go and I guess if she was around, none of us would be the foul mouth SOBs we are sometimes. Hell, my old man would have knocked me into next week if I’d have said anything resembling a curse word in front of my mom.
Then again, a lot of things would have been different if Mary were around.
But if they’re working a case - they both knew I expect them to keep their four letter mouths shut. They say ma’am and sir, they hold the doors for women, as long as they aren’t the bad guys. They’ve even been known to stand when a lady enters the room. A little bit of manners never hurt anyone and my boys know what’s expected of them. I’m pretty sure they have no idea which is a salad fork and which is the regular fork but I don’t know either, so who cares? Come to think of it, Sammy may know something like that, the kid’s got a freaking dictionary for a brain. The point of it is - they know there’s a time and a place for it.
They know when to straighten up and act like they weren’t brought up in a barn or in our case, a car. Usually. And when they have a dumbass moment, a quick word, a sharp head smack or my patented Winchester look and both boys usually straighten up.
Usually.
I very seldom have to resort to an honest to God ass whipping but I’ve found my hand on Winchester boy ass makes a pretty good impression on those two troublemakers. Don’t get me wrong, like I said before, they don’t always find themselves ass over teakettle, but some times it just seems to be the most effective thing at the time. Plus it’s not like I can take away shit they don’t have. My kids don’t have Atari or whatever the fuck those video games are. They never have had a lot in terms of shit like that. Although Dean does have an old Walkman that he fixed up. I suppose I could take that away from him. Sam, what am I gonna do with him? No - “you can’t read that Geometry book?” Now, Bobby comes up with creative punishments with the boys. Truthfully, more power to him, but I just plain don’t have the patience for making them translate Latin or organize the bookshelves. Hell, I don’t have bookshelves. The point is, once in a while, a good kick in the ass does wonders for a kid. Once in a while it backfires too, but mostly that’s with Sam and that’s because he thinks physical punishment is archaic.
They’re different, my boys. Sam’ll try to argue himself out of a punishment, any punishment. There’s always a reason why he’s right and I’m wrong. Again, I don’t have a lot of patience, but if he’s got a really good reason for breaking the rules? Well, I’ll listen but that’s about it. I truthfully can say I can’t remember one time he convinced me to change my mind once I’d made it up.
I suppose I’m as stubborn as he is.
Now Dean? He just takes whatever I dish out without a rub. He knows the score and figures he knows what he’s done and if he was stupid enough to get caught, well shame on him.
That’s not to say that Dean doesn’t stand up for himself. He isn’t afraid of me hearing his side of things but usually he knows he’s fucked something up if I’m fixing to whup his ass.
Honestly though, I can’t complain. They’re good boys. True, they get into some shit and they're both hard headed at times. Dean’s got a wild streak in him that gets him in hot water routinely and Sammy? Sammy holds onto grudges like they are fucking gold. My boys? They’ve got lot on their shoulders and I demand a lot out of them.
But they’re tough.
They’re becoming good hunters too, Dean’s got the gut instinct and Sam’s really catching on. Together they are a hell of a good team.
So yeah, I’m a tough dad. Not always the most understanding at times and I’ve been known come down hard on them once in a while. Maybe I’m right, maybe I’m wrong but making my boys toe the line keeps them safe and that’s what it’s all about.
That’s what it’s always been about.
end