Lady M (lady_m_319) wrote,
Lady M



Author: Lady M
Beta: Razzie- Thanks, much!
Characters: Dean (28), Sam (24), AU Ben Braeden (8)
Implements: Hand.
Rating: PG-13 for spanking.
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. This story follows the WE MAY NEVER PASS THIS WAY AGAIN, MAYBE fic but both can be read as stand alones.



“Benjamin Braeden, you know my laptop is not a toy.” Sam Winchester admonishes. He looms over the eight-year-old boy seated at the table.


“I’m not touching it.” Ben quickly drops his hands onto his lap.


“Don’t lie to me,” Sam leans in towards the computer. He taps a key.  


“I’m not,” Ben replies belligerently.


Sam grabs the boy by the collar. He slides him off the chair. With his other hand Sam quickly hits miscellaneous keys on his laptop. “Where’s my research?”


“Uhm?” Ben scrambles to get loose from Sam’s firm grasp.


“Ben, you lost my research playing with the laptop,” Sam states disappointedly. He points to a bare corner. “Time out, over there,” he orders.


Ben grabs Sam’s wrist. He twists to get free.


“Not so fast, kiddo.” Sam maneuvers Ben away from the table to face the corner across the room. “You need to learn to follow orders. Plant your butt in that corner. You’re in timeout for eight minutes.”


“What’d I do?” Ben argues.


“You didn’t follow my rules,” Sam informs. He gently shoves Ben towards the corner.


“Oh, man,” Ben whines. He loudly stomps his feet as he marches to stand in the designated area.


Sam sits at the desk in front of his computer. He attempts to retrieve his morning’s work.


“Sam, you find where the remains are buried yet?” Dean wanders casually into the room from the kitchen, a sandwich in his hand. He leans over Sam’s shoulder to see the information Sam’s viewing on his screen. He places half the sandwich into his mouth.


“Stop dropping crumbs on me,” Sam complains.


“Ben, you ready to go?” Dean grabs his jacket off the back of the couch. 


“Yeah,” Ben responds enthusiastically.


“No,” Sam answers at the same time.


“Well, what is it?”  Dean bites into his sandwich. 


“He’s not going.” Sam states sternly.


“We need to go now.”


“Yes, I am,” Ben shuffles towards Dean and the door.


Sam swivels slowly around on his chair. “You’re being punished. You were told to stand in that corner.”


“How much longer does he have?” Dean inquires.


“He had eight minutes. He’s now up to fifteen.” Sam points determinedly at the empty corner.


“The go-carts are only here today and tomorrow. I want to get there before they take their lunch break to cool the engines. Can’t you punish him when we get back?”


“No, Dean. He lost all my research playing with the computer. He needs to learn to follow the rules. He needs to be punished now,” Sam replies exasperatedly.


“Fine, give his butt a couple of swats and we’ll be on our way,” Dean winks at Ben.


Dean and Ben know Sam doesn’t practice corporal punishment. Sam may have been on the receiving end when he was younger. But when it applies to Ben, he’s never been an advocate for a butt warming. Washing dishes, taking out the garbage, no television and timeouts are Sam’s preferred choices of punishment.


Dean has practiced corporal punishment on more than one occasion. Those times resulted in Ben being sent to bed after lots of hugs but a very sore bottom.


Sam turns away from Ben. He levels his best bitch face in Dean’s direction.


“Kid, you better do your time,” Dean concedes. He removes his jacket. Dean knows they’re leaving for Bobby’s soon. He doesn’t want to spend the trip cooped up in the Impala with Sam in one of his bitch face moods.


“Oh, man,” Ben huffs back to the corner. “No go-carts. That’s not fair,” Ben kicks the wall. “You’re mean.”


Sam ignores Ben’s outburst. He returns his attention to his computer research.


“You close?” Dean finishes his sandwich looking over Sam’s shoulder.


“Maybe. Again, with the crumbs?”  Sam brushes at his clothes.


Ben kicks the wall.


“I’ll inventory the trunk so we’re ready to leave.” In a low voice Dean asks, “You sure he can’t go?”


“No Dean, he needs to learn there are consequences when he doesn’t follow the rules,” Sam responds with aggravation.


Ben kicks the wall.


“You sound just like dad.”


Another bitch face glares at Dean.


“I’m going,” Dean grabs his jacket. He exits hastily through the front door.


Sam turns to Ben. “Kick that wall one more time, young man and you’ll spend the afternoon in your room,” Sam warns firmly.


Ben looks over his shoulder at Sam. He smirks. He turns his head to face the corner. He kicks the wall.


“Go to your room,” Sam states sternly as he pushes his chair back to stand and glower at Ben’s defiance.


Ben dashes out of the living room. He runs towards his bedroom. He slams the door shut but stays on the hall side of the door. He holds his breath to hear if Uncle Sam is following him. Ben hears Sam talking on his cell phone. The sound gets softer. He realizes Sam moved into the kitchen. The soon-to-be escapee eases his way back down the corridor. He peeks slowly into the living room. The coast is clear. He grabs his jacket. He quietly sneaks out the front door.


Dean closes the trunk of his beloved ’67 Chevy Impala.


Ben darts down the walkway towards the Impala. Losing control of his momentum he slams into Dean’s muscular legs.


“Wow, what’s your hurry?”


“Uncle Sam said we could go to the go-carts,” Ben claims breathlessly.


“He did?” Dean asks skeptically. “I’ll call him.”


“He’s on the phone with Uncle Bobby.”


Dean stares at the youth. He weighs his options. “Get in. We’ll just have enough time to get in a few laps.”




Dean strolls through the front door with his hand resting on Ben’s shoulder.


“Dude, that was epic!” Ben rejoices.


Sam stands stone faced, arms crossed in front of his chest waiting in the living room.


Ben freezes in his tracks.


“Something got your tidy whities in a bunch?” Dean addresses Sam as he continues into the room.


“Where were you?”  Sam growls.


“Go-carts. You knew that.”


“You took Ben after I said he was being punished?”


Ben slides behind Dean to avoid Sam’s stern stare.


“Dude?”  Dean looks down at Ben.


Ben shrugs his shoulders.


“You told me you got paroled.”


Ben shrugs, again.


“Well played,” Dean praises Ben’s initiative.


“Dean!  Don’t encourage him.” Sam states pointedly. “Go to your room,” he directs sharply.


“What’d I do?”  Dean inquires innocently.


“Not you, Dean,” Sam replies exasperatedly. “Ben, go to your room,” he orders sternly. He points towards the doorway.


Ben bolts down the corridor to his bedroom.


“Why are you encouraging him?” Sam inquires of Dean.


“You’re overreacting. You should’ve let him go.”


“So I should let him do what he wants?”


“No, but you don’t have to act like such a girl, Francis.”


“When I was his age, you would have punished me if I disobeyed and ran off.”


“You bet your ass. You would’ve been eating your next bowl of Lucky Charms standing up,” Dean quips.




“Worked for dad.”


“I don’t believe in corporal punishment.”


“Right, and the kid knows that.”


“I’ll handle this my way.”


“Then don’t complain when he doesn’t take you seriously.”


Sam huffs.




Ben sits on the edge of his bed. He nervously swings his feet back and forth.


A loud knock sounds. The door creaks open slowly. Uncle Sam fills the open door frame with his large threatening form. He peers into the room. He pauses.


Relief washes over Ben’s tense body when Uncle Sam walks through the door and there’s no sign of Dean. Ben knows his pants would be around his ankles and his butt over Dean’s lap in a flash. Dean’s firm swats raise a sting on his rear-end that could last for hours.  Ben releases a heavy relaxing sigh.


Sam walks slowly across the room. He sits on the mattress next to Ben. He lays his arm over Ben’s shoulder. “Ben, you, I and Dean are family. We love you. You know that, right?” Sam begins his lecture.


“Yeah.” Ben responds skeptically.


“A family has rules that every member must follow. One of the rules is to respect each other’s property. The rules are for the good of the whole family. When a member doesn’t follow the rules there are consequences.”


“Consequences?” Ben asks vaguely. He turns his face upward towards Sam’s stern expression.


“Punishment,” Sam clarifies.


“Oh.” Ben stares nervously downward at his sneakers.


“You broke the rules today, Ben. You messed with my laptop. You snuck out of the house during a timeout and you lied to Dean.”


“Dean said that was cool,” Ben interrupts enthusiastically.


“No Ben. Both Dean and I are disappointed in your actions. You need to be punished. You’re grounded for one day.”


“Grounded? But the go-carts will be gone. Dean said he’d take me again,” Ben whines.


“Not this time, kiddo. Hand over your DS.”


“My Nintendo?”


“No go-carts. No Nintendo. No television,” Sam clarifies sternly.


“What am I supposed to do,” Ben hops angrily off the bed.


“I’ll have a list of chores for you in the morning. Get ready for bed.”


“BED? I’M NOT GOING TO BED!”  Ben stomps his foot. “IT’S THE MIDDLE OF THE AFTERNOON,” he argues loudly. Ben crosses his arms defiantly over his chest.


“That attitude just earned you another day. That’s two days grounded. Do you want to try for three?”


Ben quickly shuts his mouth. He clamps his lips tightly together. The defeated youngster slinks back onto the bed at the far end, away from Sam. He sadly rests his chin against his chest.


“Any questions?”  Sam asks.


Ben’s eyes glower at Sam. He shakes his head, no.


“We’re done,” Sam slaps both open palms on his firm thighs as he rises. “I’ll bring your dinner up in a little while.”


Sam closes the door with finality as he leaves. He exhales a deep calming breath. A satisfying feeling of accomplishment brings a smile to his face.




“Are those pancakes I smell?” Dean pats his stomach with both hands.


“Yes, Dean.  I’m making pancakes.” Sam replies sharply.


Dean leans his shoulder against the door jam. He crosses his arms over his chest. He casually crosses his legs at the ankles. He pauses as he observes his Betty Crocker little brother. Dean contemplates thoughtfully Sam’s demeanor. “It was pretty quiet in there. Did it go okay?”


“Everything went fine,” Sam explains without turning around.


“So will the kid be eating his pancakes standing up?” Dean pushes.


“I didn’t spank Ben if that’s what you’re asking me,” Sam replies curtly.


“Uh huh,” Dean acknowledges skeptically.


“I reasoned with him. I explained what he did wrong and why he’s being punished.” 


“Uh huh and now we’re having pancakes for dinner? You did say you were punishing the kid?”


“He’s grounded for two days,” Sam defends his approach.


“And pancakes just happen to be one of the runt’s favorite foods.”


“What’s your point, Dean?” Sam questions bluntly slamming his open palms on the counter top.


“No point. This one’s your call.” Dean holds his palms up towards Sam.


“Fine, I know what I’m doing.”


Dean snickers at his know-it-all brother. He strolls to the kitchen sink. He runs the water to wash his hands. He gazes out the window over the basin.


“You might want to see this, Ward?” Dean mocks.


Sam peers out the window over Dean’s shoulder.


“The Beaver’s making a break for it,” Dean teases. “Guess he didn’t get your memo about being grounded.” Dean turns. He leans his butt against the countertop as he dries his hands. He smirks at his frustrated brother. “You want me to go get him?”  Dean offers seriously.


“No Dean, you’re right. This is my call.”


“What are you going to do?” Dean inquires flatly.


“I don’t know. He doesn’t take me seriously,” Sam admits. 


“Ward, maybe it’s time for you to go for your belt,” Dean instructs.


Sam gives Dean his bitch face expression as he pulls on his jacket.


“Francis, he takes me seriously because I have a track record. I’ve actually swatted his ass, more than once. Remember when he took the Impala for a joy ride? I took a page from dad’s parenting book that day. Kid wised up real quick after that,” Dean advises.


Sam quietly ponders Dean’s logic.




Ben hears the familiar rumble of Dean’s ’67 Chevy Impala pull close to his hiding place. He’s only three blocks from the house. The fugitive bends down to peek through a hole in the hedges he’s using for cover. He sees Dean’s alone in the front seat of the car.


Ben thinks, “Either they don’t know I’m gone or Uncle Sam doesn’t care enough to look for me. We’re not family. Uncle Sam lied. He doesn’t care. He’s just mean.”


The sense of something peculiar interrupts Ben’s thoughts. He abruptly turns around. 


Sam stands tall looming over Ben. His hands buried in his snug front pants pockets. He trains his eye’s fiery glare on the petulant child.


Ben’s never seen Uncle Sam look so angry before. He darts to the side to run. 


Sam’s long arms quickly surround Ben’s waist. He scoops the escapee off the ground. In a firm grasp he holds the struggling child against his hip parallel to the ground. Sam avoids the kicking feet.


“Put me down,” Ben battles.


“I’ll put you down if you promise not to run.”


“Whatever,” Ben slowly stops struggling.


Dean watches in his rearview mirror as Sam places Ben on his feet. He shakes his head. “Bad move, little brother.”


Sam takes the boy by the hand. The two walk slowly towards home.


After a few steps Ben stops abruptly. Sam’s arm stretches behind him as he continues to hold the motionless child’s hand.


“You don’t have to hold my hand. I’m too big for that,” Ben complains.


“Yes, I do.”


Ben kicks Sam in the shin. He slides his small sweaty hand free. He immediately makes a break for it.


“And that’s why I have to hold your hand,” Sam mumbles under his breath. He overtakes the youngster in three strides.


Dean chuckles knowingly. He shifts his beloved Impala into drive and heads home.


Sam wraps his huge hands around Ben’s waist. He lifts the child off the ground for the second time. He positions Ben over his shoulder so the youngster’s butt points to the sky.


“Only babies get carried. Put me down,” Ben punches Sam’s back with a frustrated little fist.


“Are you going to behave and walk home with me?” Sam inquires.


“No!” Ben wrestles unsuccessfully to get down.


“Fine with me,” Sam gently pats Ben’s butt with his huge open palm. He carries Ben over his shoulder for the three block journey.


Dean hears Sam and Ben noisily arrive at the front door. He stands in the center of the room with arms crossed over his chest anticipating their entrance.


Sam firmly holds the child’s wrist as he pointedly walks him into the living room. “Ben, go to your room. Stay put this time or you won’t like the consequences,” Sam orders sternly.


Ben glares up at Sam. He glances towards Dean for support.


Dean nods his head in the direction Sam’s pointing.


Ben darts down the hall towards his bedroom.


“Sammy, I got this one,” Dean offers as he crosses the room.


“No Dean, I need to do this. Someday Ben’s safety may depend on following both our rules.  He needs me to do this. ”


“Don’t tell me. Tell him.”


Sam hesitantly crosses the living room towards the hall where Ben escaped to his bedroom.


“Sammy,” Dean states clearly.


Sam pauses.


“You’re doing the right thing. If we’re going to keep the kid safe he’s got to learn to follow orders,” Dean consoles.


Sam nods. He purses his lips together. He continues towards Ben’s room.


Sam’s tall ominous form fills Ben’s open doorframe. He unbuttons his shirt sleeve cuffs. He slowly rolls his right sleeve up his long arm.


Ben sits on the wooden floor building with a pile of colorful Legos. He looks up when he senses the shadow in the doorway. “You want to play Legos, Uncle Sam?”


“No Ben, we need to talk.”


“Where’s Dean?”


“He’s in the living room.”


“Is he coming, too?”


“No Ben, it’s just you and me.”


A feeling of relief rolls up from the pit of Ben’s stomach. It ends with a slight smirk. No Dean means no sore bottom.


“How long am I grounded for now?” Ben whines.


Sam moves into the room. He closes the door behind him. “Ben, you misbehaved today so I grounded you for two days.”


“Yeah, so,” Ben remarks uninterestedly.


“You snuck out to go ride the go-carts even though I told you no go-carts.” Sam inhales a deep calming breath. He releases it slowly. “There are unpleasant consequences when you disobey the rules.”


Ben suspends his building efforts. He watches Sam slowly roll up his left shirt sleeve. A nauseating pit forms in Ben’s stomach. His facial expression changes from disregard to concern and confusion. Both of Uncle Sam’s sleeves are rolled up his long arms. Dean rolls up his sleeves right before he puts Ben over his knee for a spanking. Ben silently observes Sam move to the edge of his bed.


“Ben, come here,” Sam eases down to sit on the soft mattress.


Ben gulps dryly. He stands slowly. He inquires quietly, “Why?” with as much bravado as he’s able to muster.


“You were grounded but ran off.” Sam swallows hard.  “So now I’m going to put you over my knee and spank you.”


“No way. You can’t spank me. Dean didn’t say so. DEAN!” Ben yells for reinforcements.


Dean hears his name being shrieked from down the hall. He turns the volume a little louder on the television he’s watching. He trusts Sam knows how to handle the situation with Ben. Hell, Sam’s been on the receiving end enough times. He should definitely know how to take care of business.


“Dean isn’t coming, Ben,” Sam explains. “This is between us.” 


A knowing sly smirk grows slowly across Ben’s face. “You’re not gonna spank me,” Ben states. “You never spank me.”


“That’s about to change,” Sam states matter-of-factly.  “You disobeyed my orders. I’m going to spank you. Come over here,” Sam instructs.


“You can’t make me.”


“I will come and get you.”


Sam’s stern expression alerts Ben to the seriousness of his current situation. He takes a small hesitant step towards Sam.


Sam reaches his long arms towards Ben. He wraps his large hands around the reluctant youth’s waist. He guides the child in close.


“Ben, I don’t like having to punish you.”


“Then don’t.”


“You need to follow my rules the same as you follow Dean’s rules. A trip over my knee should help you remember that in the future.”


“I’ll remember, I’ll remember real good Uncle Sam,” Ben promises.


“I’m going to make sure you do.  Pants need to come down.” Sam reaches to unbutton Ben’s jeans.


Ben slaps at Sam’s hand, “Dean lets me do it myself.”


Sam rolls his eyes. “Fine, lose the jeans.”


Ben slowly works the button and zipper on his jeans, “Are you really going to spank me Uncle Sam? I’d be really, really sorry if you give me lots of chores to do. Then you don’t have to hurt your hand.” Ben smiles pathetically at his inexperienced uncle.


Sam’s thoughts flashback to his own unsuccessful negotiating tactics he attempted with his father. Dad never succumbed to Sam’s puppy dog pout. The spankings always happened. This kid’s good but Sam inherited John Winchester’s determination and resolve. He ignores Ben’s tug at his heart strings.


“Young man, I’m going to make sure you are really, really sorry. And if I were you, I’d be more concerned about my own butt and not your uncle’s hand. Now let’s get this over with.” Sam slides his large hands under Ben’s arms. He lifts the youngster off the floor.


“I’m not ready,” Ben kicks his feet. He realizes Sam is about to spank his bottom.


“Kiddo, no one is ever really ready for a spanking,” Sam maneuvers the kicking child over his long firm thighs. “Settle down, Ben.” Sam secures Ben across his lap. The child must learn to follow orders. Someday it could be a matter of life or death. Sam’s resigned to administer a memorable spanking.


“Why are you being punished Ben?”


“I rode the go-carts,” Ben gulps nervously for air.


“Why was that wrong?”


“You told me no go-carts,” Ben confesses.


“So what are you going to do next time I tell you something?”


“I don’t know.” Ben concedes. He just wants to get off his uncle’s lap.


“Ben, you need to follow my rules just like you follow Dean’s.”


“I promise I’ll follow your rules. I’m sorry. Can I get up now?”


“No Ben. I am going to spank you.” Sam inhales a deep breath. He quickly draws Ben’s jeans and briefs down to his knees. He lands a firm swat to the center of Ben’s butt cheeks.


Ben grunts from the initial impact. He experiences a moment of stinging surprise. Uncle Sam is actually applying his huge hand to his bottom. He’s brought back to his sore reality when Sam lands the second swat directly where the first pinkened his backside. The heat radiates through his entire rear-end. He pushes against Sam’s strong legs to get free.


Sam wedges Ben tightly against his stomach. His left arm rests across Ben’s back. His left hand grips Ben’s right hip.


Sam repeatedly swats Ben’s buttocks raising a rosy color to the entire surface.


“Ow, I’ll be good Uncle Sam. I’ll be real good,” Ben pleads. His bottom’s on fire.


With his open hand Sam paddles the squirming bare backside stretched across his sturdy lap.


“Stop, Uncle Sam. I’m sorry.”


Sam lands two quick smacks to Ben’s cheeks. He bends the youth forward slightly to reposition his sit spots. His enormous palm lands two loud stinging swats to the meatiest areas of the crimson buttocks.


“Yeow,” Ben howls.


“We’re done Ben,” Sam releases a heavy sigh. With his warm palm he gently massages Ben’s lower back.


Ben catches his breath. Tears streak his flushed cheeks.


Sam soothingly rubs circles on the child’s back until his crying subsides. He gently eases Ben’s briefs over his warm posterior.


Ben squirms. He moans softly.


Sam lifts the youth to position his head against Sam’s sturdy shoulder.


Ben snuggles his face into Sam’s collarbone. His arms lay limp at his sides.


With his strong left arm Sam holds Ben around the boy’s thighs to support his weight.


Ben hiccups.


Sam tenderly pats Ben’s back as if he were burping a small child. His mind flashes back to when his dad or Dean comforted him after a spanking.


“How’re you doing, kiddo?” Sam kneads Ben’s damp neck with his firm grip.


Ben rubs his tear streaked face against Sam’s soft shirt.


“You want me to pull up your pants?”


Ben answers with a muffled, “No.”


Sam unties Ben’s sneakers with his right hand. He removes them from the complacent youngster’s dangling feet. He tosses them towards the closet. Sam slides Ben’s jeans over his stocking feet.


The youngster pushes himself away from Sam’s shoulder. He looks into his uncle’s sympathetic eyes just inches away. Ben states softly, “You spanked me.”


“You were naughty.”


“But you spanked me,” Ben states exasperatedly.


“Why are you surprised I spanked you?”


“Because you’re the nice one.”


Sam watches as a mirror image of Dean’s smart-alec grin grows across Ben’s angelic face. “You’re playing me, kid.”


Ben giggles brightly.


Sam hugs the little rascal tightly against his chest. He turns the child to sit on his lap. 


Ben leans sideways to rest contently against Sam’s stomach.


Sam tilts his head down to see Ben’s drooping eyes. “It’s nap time for you, young man.”


“I’m not tired,” Ben yawns.


“Sure you aren’t,” Sam lifts Ben into his arms. “And didn’t we just finish a talk about doing what I tell you?  Do we need to have another one so soon?”


“Nap time, got it.”


Sam pulls the covers back on the bed.  He lays Ben on his stomach on the cool mattress. Sam covers the youth with the sheet.


“Will you stay with me?” Ben asks sleepily.


Sam’s caught off guard by the eight-year-olds’ request. Ben usually looks to Dean when he needs comforting. “Sure, I’ll stay with you.” Sam slides down on top of the thin cover. “When you wake up we’ll have pancakes, unless Dean’s already eaten all the batter.” 


Ben snuggles in close to Sam’s long warm body. He drapes one arm over Sam’s firm waist. He sighs deeply. The worn-out youth closes his eyes. He drifts quickly into a peaceful sleep.




“Dean,” Sam calls from the hallway entrance. He walks across the room to the television. He turns the volume down to a normal level. “Dean,” Sam rolls down a shirt sleeve.


“Hey,” Dean opens his eyes from his sprawled position on the couch. “You’ve been gone a while. You look like hell. Everything okay?”


Sam smugly raises his eyebrows at the older Winchester.


“Let me guess. We’re about to have a talk.”




“Ok, I’m listening, spill.” 


“It’s just that,” Sam hesitates. “I didn’t realize,” he pauses. “Oh, forget it.” He waves his hand dismissively.


“What Sam?” Dean asks concernedly.


“Dean, you took care of me for years. Didn’t it bother you when, you know?” Sam rolls down his other sleeve. He buttons his cuffs.


“When I know, what?”


“When you spanked me?”


A slow, sly ear to ear grin crosses Dean’s face.


Sam huffs, “Never mind.” He moves towards the kitchen.


Dean raises his upper torso off the couch cushions. He calls over his shoulder, “It was always about following orders and keeping you safe, Sammy. Swatting your ass was the right thing to do. I didn’t like it. But I did it.” He props a pillow behind his head. “And besides, you could be such a little bitch,” Dean chuckles. He lies back onto the sofa to return his attention towards the television screen.


Sam stands in the doorway. He nods understandingly. He appreciates his brother’s nonchalant attitude.


“I’m making pancakes for when the kid gets up. Are you hungry?”


“I could go for a short stack,” Dean pats his belly.


Sam shakes his head. He disappears into the kitchen.


Dean lounges comfortably on his back. He snuggles into the worn couch’s sweet spot. He closes his eyes. As he drifts into a pleasant haze he’s interrupted by a youthful yell.


Ben runs across the room in his stocking feet, t-shirt and underpants. He takes a flying leap. He lands stretched across the top of Dean.


“Umph, watch the family jewels, kid,” Dean repositions Ben’s knee.


Ben leans on Dean’s chest. He props himself up by his elbows. He grins widely.


Dean wraps his arms around Ben’s waist and butt to keep him from sliding off.


“Ow, that hurts,” Ben exclaims.


“What? This?” Dean playfully pats Ben’s bottom.


“Hey, stop,” Ben reaches back to rub his sore rear-end. “My butt hurts.”


“How come?” Dean asks innocently.


Ben cups both his hands over his mouth and whispers, “Uncle Sam put me over his knee. He spanked me.”


“He did?” Dean responds surprised.


Ben nods emphatically with pursed lips and a grim look on his face. Maybe Dean will sympathize with his plight.


“Should I smack Sam around for giving you a sore butt?”


Ben’s facial expression changes to a look of seriousness, eyebrows furrow.  He contemplates Dean’s offer.


“No, you can’t smack Uncle Sam.”


“Why not?”


Ben drops his gaze, “I was bad. I didn’t think he’d spank me.”


“So you were testing him to see what you could get away with?” Dean accuses.


“Kinda,” Ben grimaces. He shrugs his shoulders.


“And Uncle Sam called you on it?”


Ben nods sadly an affirmative.


“What happens now with Uncle Sam?” Dean inquires.


“I have to do what he tells me or he’ll punish me. And it won’t be just chores and taking away stuff. He’ll spank me, again,” Ben informs unhappily reaching unconsciously to rub his sore bottom.


Sam eavesdrops on Ben’s and Dean’s exchange from the kitchen. He’s impressed with his brother’s ability to guide the youngster’s thought process.


“Is Sam mad at you?” Dean quizzes.


“No,” Ben shakes his head assuredly. “He said I was forgiven. He lay down with me on my bed until I fell asleep. That was cool.”


“Are you mad at Sam for spanking your butt?”


Ben thinks hard before answering. “I was.”


“But you’re not now?” Dean urges hopefully.


“Nah, Uncle Sam’s making me pancakes,” Ben replies cheerfully.


Sam smiles. He shakes his head at Ben’s similarity to Dean in his regard for food. 


After listening to Ben’s and Dean’s conversation Sam’s convinced spanking the child was the appropriate corrective action. He really hates when Dean is right.


Ben slides off Dean eliciting another, “Umph.”


Dean sits upright on the couch. He rests his elbows on his knees. He clasps his hands together. Dean looks directly into Ben’s eyes. “Hey champ, you lie to me again and I’ll introduce your butt to my dad’s wooden paddle. And take it from me, you won’t like it. Got it?”


“Got it,” Ben throws his arms around Dean’s neck for a warm hug.


Dean returns the gesture. He pats Ben on the back. “Let’s go see what Uncle Sam’s up to in the kitchen. Something smells good.”


Ben pulls away. “Uncle Sam, I’m hungry,” he announces loudly as he runs towards the familiar aroma waffling from the kitchen.


“Me too,” Dean springs off the sofa. As an after thought, he reaches over the back of the couch. He insightfully grabs a pillow for Ben’s sore bottom. Dean follows Ben into the kitchen. All is right with the Winchester men as long as there are pancakes to be eaten.




Tags: ben braeden, sam spanks ben
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