Title: WE MAY NEVER PASS THIS WAY AGAIN, MAYBE 2/3
Author: Lady M
Beta: minx999-Thank you, much!
Characters: John, Dean (*8 and 28), Sam (*4 and 24), AU Ben Braeden (8); *age during flashback scene.
Implements: Hand, paddle.
Rating: PG-13 for spanking and mild swearing.
Warning: Parental spanking of minors. Please don't read if it offends you.
Disclaimer: Eric Kripke and the CW own all. I own nothing.
Author’s Notes: Ben Braeden, from the episode ‘The Kids Are Alright’ is staying with Dean and Sam. The author chooses not to explain why, for how long or if anything has happened to his mother, Lisa Braeden.
Dean inhales a deep breath. He lets it out. He turns. He walks slowly towards his father, eyes towards the floor. He stops just out of his father’s reach and asks, “Are you still real mad?”
“I’m disappointed in your actions. I’m not angry.” John waits for Dean’s reaction. There is none. “Look at me.”
Dean raises his head slightly. Not far enough to make eye contact with his father. He notices the wooden paddle lying on the bed next to his father. The existing pit in his stomach grows.
“Dean, you know the Impala’s not a toy. You behaved recklessly and irresponsibly today. You could have seriously hurt yourself, your baby brother or someone else. Do you have anything to say for yourself before I punish you?”
Dean lowers his head. He responds with a negative head-shake.
“Answer me,” John admonishes.
Dean raises his head. He stares directly into his father’s stern eyes, “No, sir.” His father’s disappointed comment still eats at his gut. He has nothing to offer.
“Step forward. You’re going over my knee.”
Dean closes the space between him and his father. He points to the paddle lying ominously next to his father’s thigh. “What’s that for?”
John looks down at his side, “Serious misbehavior has serious consequences. You’re going to learn that today, son.”
John grabs Dean around the waist. He lifts him off his feet. He lays him across his knees.
Dean closes his eyes tight. He grabs onto his father’s pant leg.
“Are you ready for your spanking?”
Dean gulps the little saliva he has, “Yes, sir.”
John grasps the elastic waistband of Dean’s pajama pants. He pulls them down to Dean’s knees, exposing a clenched, snow white-colored bottom. John takes a deep breath. He lands the first swat dead center on his son’s buttocks.
Dean grips his dad’s leg tighter.
John places the next two swats, mirroring the first.
“Umph,” Dean grunts unexpectedly.
John moves his focus to the areas of Dean’s buttocks which haven’t turned a warm pink color. He applies numerous, meaningful swats.
Dean tries not to cry. He doesn’t want to disappoint his father any further. But after the last barrage of swats, Dean’s backside is on fire. He looses the battle. Tears roll down his flushed cheeks. He sobs loudly.
John pauses at the outburst. He reaches for the wooden paddle. He contemplates the consequences he is about to deliver. He turns the handle around in his palm. He takes a deep calming breath. “Dean, your actions were serious. You’re eight years old. You’ve earned eight swats with this paddle.” He places two quick swats to each of Dean’s upturned buttocks.
Dean yelps. He pushes forward on his father’s thigh to escape the nasty sting felt in his hindquarters.
John hugs him firmly against his lap. He repeats the first two swats.
“OWWW!” Dean sobs. “’m sorry, Daddy.”
John applies the remaining four licks quickly to Dean’s sit spots. He releases the breath he didn’t realize he had been holding. “We’re done, son.” John tosses the paddle towards the other end of the bed.
Dean sobs. He gasps. He coughs. He breathes irregularly.
John rubs his son’s back, “It’s okay, Dean. Take a deep breath. That’s good. You’re okay,” John comforts his remorseful son as he rubs soothing circles on his back.
John pulls the pajamas up over the fire engine red-colored bottom. He lifts Dean under his armpits. He turns him to lie against his muscular chest. He wraps his arms around the youngster’s back, supporting his weight.
Dean’s legs dangle between his father’s thighs. He rests his head against the familiar flannelled shoulder. He breathes in his father’s masculine scent. He slowly gets control of his breathing and crying.
John pats Dean’s back as he waits for his son to calm himself.
Dean takes in a long, deep breath. He exhales slowly.
John looks down at his eldest’s tear streaked face. His tears have stopped filling his eyes. His breathing is calm and regular. “You ready to talk?” John asks softly.
Dean rubs the side of his face against the soft flannel in a positive motion.
John turns his offspring to balance him comfortably on his lap. “Dean, what are you sorry for?” He reassuringly squeezes him tight to his chest.
“I tried to drive.”
“And,” John encourages.
Dean pauses to gather his courage to respond. “I’m a disappointment,” Dean mumbles as he buries his face in his father’s chest.
“Say that again?” John pulls Dean away from his chest.
Dean’s head bobs down. “I’m a disappointment.”
“Dean Winchester, you are not a disappointment. Your behavior was disappointing, but you will never be a disappointment. Do you understand the difference?” John asks matter-of-factly.
“Son, I’m proud of you. You’re eight years old. You take care of your brother and even me sometimes. You’re a good son and brother but sometimes you don’t think before you act. Like when you took the Impala.”
“I was thinking,” Dean replies angrily.
“You were thinking,” John states surprised. “What were you thinking?” John asks sarcastically.
“If something bad happens to you on a hunt I would drive for help. I didn’t know if I could. I wanted to try,” the eight year old explains.
“Why didn’t you tell me that when I asked you why you took the car?”
“Because you were so mad…and I was a disappointment…” Dean’s voice trails off.
“If you say you’re a disappointment one more time, you’ll find yourself back over my knee. Got it?”
John hugs his son close to his chest. “I’ll never be disappointed in my boys,” he states softly.
“If I told you why, would you have still used the paddle?” Dean asks as he reaches back to rub the sting in his butt.
“Oh, yeah. I never again want to see my Impala driving down the road without me in it. No driving. I expect that’s one order you’ll remember to follow,” John chuckles as he gently pats Dean’s sore bottom.
“Umph! Dad, not funny,” Dean protests.
Dean’s thoughts return to the present.
“Dean, DEAN, am I right?” Sam brings Dean’s attention back to reality.
“Maybe,” Dean offers smugly.
“No maybe about it, Dean”
“Alright, he spanked me pretty hard,” Dean confesses.
“And,” Sam prompts.
“And it was the first time he laid into me with that wooden paddle. I was eight, so he gave me eight really nasty swats with the damn thing. And how do you remember that? You were only three or four.”
“I had to listen to the whole spanking. It was scary at the time. We were staying in that small three-room house with no doors."
"Oh, yeah," Dean grins acknowledgement.
"Do you really want to introduce Ben to that form of punishment?” Sam challenges his brother.
Dean’s body visibly relaxes. He ponders his brother’s logic. “Okay, we’ll try it your way.” Dean accepts his brother’s point of view.
“Ben, go to your room,” Dean orders.
Ben’s jaw drops open.
Sam rubs Ben’s back and whispers, “Wait for it.”
“Go sit on your bed until dinner. No TV. No computer games. You can read a book but no comics. Move it,” Dean motions his head towards the stairs.
“But,” Ben starts.
“Kiddo, it won't get any better than that,” Sam interrupts.
Ben slides off his uncle’s lap. He shuffles dejectedly towards the stairs.
“Later you should thank your uncle for saving your butt, little man. Next time I won't be so easy to manipulate,” Dean shoots his brother a knowing look.
An hour after Ben was sent to his room; Sam and Dean are in the kitchen. Dean sets the third plate on the kitchen table. “You want to get Ben?”
Sam flips a burger in the frying pan. “You exiled him to
“Shit, Sammy. I followed your lead. You think I was too hard on him?”
“No. The parenting magazines say every kid responds differently to authority and discipline. You have to figure out what works best for your kid.”
“Parenting magazines? You’re such a girl,” Dean teases.
“What the fuck is that?” Dean stops short. The brothers exchange a look of shock. “It’s the Impala!”
Dean dashes towards the living room. “Someone’s trying to hot wire my baby.”
He’s out the front door before Sam blinks twice.
Dean knows the motor won’t turn over without the key. He installed a kill switch after he thought his baby had been stolen but in reality, Bela had her towed away.
Dean runs along side the rolling Impala. It's pointed head first down the driveway. The kid must have knocked the gearshift into neutral.
Dean dives head first into the open driver's side window. He quickly rights himself behind the wheel. He brings the vehicle to a stop just after the nose edges into the street. His hands tightly grasp the steering wheel at the ten o'clock and two o'clock positions. He exhales the breath he holds. He slams his right hand against the steering wheel. He pauses to take a minute to get his composure.
Ben's wedged under the dash. He's caught red-handed with the wires wrapped around his short fingers. He see's the look on Dean's face change from relieved to angry. He scoots towards the passenger side door.
Dean gathers his wits. He reaches down and grabs the fleeing child by his shirt collar.
"Oh, no you don't."
He slides Ben backwards on his butt across the Impala's front seat. Dean steps out of the car with the hooligan in tow. He lets go of Ben's collar. The kid makes a break for it but runs hard into the front of Uncle Sam.
Sam lifts his nephew into a bear hug. "Are you okay? Are you hurt anywhere?" Sam feels along the child's limbs for injuries.
Ben locks his arms around Sam's neck for security. He buries his head in his uncle's shoulder.
"Is he okay?" Dean asks as he slams the Impala door.
"He seems fine. He’s just a little shaky."
"Nice parenting, Francis.” Dean pauses. “Ben, what were you thinking? You could have killed yourself!" Dean explodes.
"Dean, calm down. Let's discuss this in the house."
"Fine, Ben, go to your room. We need to have a talk."
"Not this time, Sam. The kid's butt is mine. Are you going to carry him in or am I?"
"I got him, Dean. Why don't you move the car back?"
"You're stalling Sammy. It's not going to work."
"Alright, leave your baby sticking out into the road..." Sam taunts his brother as he turns towards the house with Ben in his arms.
"Shit." Dean digs his keys out of his front pants pocket and turns towards the Chevy.
In the house, Sam sits down on the couch. He turns Ben to sit on his lap.
"Uncle Sam, is Dean going to beat me?"
"Ben, Dean and I will never beat you. You don't have to worry about that."
"But you said your dad beat him."
"He beat his ass. That means dad gave Dean a really serious spanking."
"Is Dean going to spank me?"
"You messed with the Impala after he told you not to. I'd say a spanking is a given."
"Did Dean ever spank you?"
"When I was naughty, he did."
"Does it hurt?"
"Dean likes to leave an impression when he punishes. So, yeah, it’s probably going to hurt, but you’ll be okay."
"My mom doesn't do that," Ben fibs, looking for sympathy.
"Your mom doesn’t spank you?"
Ben shakes his head no.
"Aww, kiddo," Sammy wraps his long arms around Ben. He pulls him in close to his chest for a comforting hug. "Welcome to the life of a
Dean bursts through the door. "Car's parked. Wires are fixed. Alright, Speed Racer, bedroom, now." Dean points angrily.
Sam pats Ben on the back, "Go ahead. I'll talk to him."
Ben slides off Sam’s lap. He gives his uncle a forlorn look. He runs to his bedroom.
Sam grabs the back of Dean's shirt as he passes in front of him to follow Ben.
"Let go, Sam."
"Dean, you should go easy on him. It's his first time."
"Dad made sure I never took the Impala again, until he said I could. I'm going to do the same for Ben."
"You're agreeing with Dad?"
"Looks like. And Sam? I think you’re being played by an eight-year-old.”
END OF PART TWO!