Author’s Note: This story is an alternate ending to Season 4 Episode 20 of Supernatural. The story was written for the holiday bingo over on spanking_world, and it fills the square for ‘Shame’. It was also written for ‘Ann’ who wanted to see Dean handle Sam’s addiction a little differently. The first few lines are taken directly from the show.
Disclaimer: I don’t own any of these characters, and I’m not making any money from this story.
Warning: Non-consensual spanking of an adult. Just to be clear, I don’t condone non-consensual spanking in real life, but I love it in fiction.


Sam couldn’t stand the tense silence in the car as his brother drove them away from the warehouse. They’d just seen Jimmy Novak plead with Castiel to use his body instead of his daughter’s, but that wasn’t what had caused the rift between the brothers. It had been Sam drinking the demon’s blood while Dean and Cas looked on in horror.

“All right, let’s hear it,” Sam said, needing this conversation to be over sooner rather than later.

“What?” Dean asked.

“Drop the bomb, man. You saw what I did.” When only silence met him, Sam added, “Come on; stop the car. Take a swing.”

“I’m not gonna take a swing.”

Confused by his brother’s mild tone, Sam said, “Then scream. Chew me out.”

“I’m not mad Sam.”

“Come on.” Sam said incredulously, clearly not believing that statement. “You’re not mad?”


“Right.” He shook his head. “At least let me explain myself.”

“Don’t,” Dean jumped in immediately before Sam could start an explanation. “I don’t care.”

“You don’t care?” That more than anything confused Sam, because Dean sounded quite genuine.

“What do you want me to say? That I’m disappointed? Yeah, I am. But mostly I’m just tired man. I’m done. I am just done.”

Guilt washed over Sam at his brother’s tired tone. Dean hadn’t raised his voice once during their conversation. It was as if he’d given up. Before Sam could formulate a response, his cell phone rang.

He pulled out his phone, saw Bobby’s number, and answered it.

After a short and uninformative conversation, he hung up and turned to Dean. “Bobby needs us.”

“What for?”

“I’m not sure, he wasn’t very specific, but it’s apocalypse related.”

“Isn’t everything apocalypse related these days?” Dean muttered, and sped up just a little.

“Yeah,” Sam agreed. They were at least six hours away from Bobby, and that was if they didn’t hit traffic.

Sam knew he should just leave the conversation where it stood. He could lean back, get some sleep, and ignore the intense silence, but that would only delay the eventual confrontation. His brother clearly wasn’t ready to talk about it, but when Dean held the big things in, they inevitably came out later in sudden, and often violent, outbursts. Like the time he’d taken a crowbar to Baby. It was better to push the issue now, than let it fester.

“I’m only doing it so I can stop the apocalypse from happening,” Sam said quietly.

Dean pulled his eyes away from the road long enough to give his brother a glare. A clear indicator that Dean had already ended this conversation and that Sam should drop it, but Sam didn’t agree.

“Every time I drink it, I get stronger. You saw what I did to those demons back there, Dean. Soon I’ll be able to do that to Lilith. Ruby is working on getting her location for me, and…”

Sam was startled into silence when Dean yanked the steering wheel to the right, pulled off to the side of the road, and slammed on the brakes. He’d been expecting this since the moment he pulled his mouth off that demon’s neck, but now that Sam had Dean’s full attention, the weight of disapproval in his glare was almost too much to take. Squirming a little in his seat, Sam looked out the windshield at the deserted highway, cleared his throat, and opened his mouth to continue explaining. “I’m going to…”

“Out!” Dean ordered.

Sam watched as his brother got out, slammed the driver’s door shut, and walked around the Impala to stand in front of his door. Closing his eyes for just a second, Sam took a deep breath, and tried to mentally prepare himself for a punch. Dean opened the passenger side door, and Sam reluctantly got out to face him.

Once Sam was out, Dean slammed that door as well. The two brothers stood face to face, staring at each other for several seconds before Sam closed his eyes. “Go ahead.”

He heard movement, and flinched slightly in anticipation, but instead of a punch to the face, Dean roughly grabbed Sam’s right arm with both hands. Before Sam realized what Dean was planning to do, he found himself propelled forward with his arm twisted painfully behind his back.


Sam automatically resisted, but didn’t actually put up a fight until Dean shoved him face down over the hood of the car.

“Dean!” Sam protested. He hadn’t been in this position in over a decade, but he instantly understood his brother’s intent, and used all of his strength to try and push himself up off the car with his one free hand. He managed to get himself upright, but when Dean simply wrenched his right arm up further behind his back, he yelled in pain, and moved forward to relieve the strain on his shoulder, which put him right back over the hood of the car.

“Stay down!” Dean warned while keeping a tight grip on Sam’s captured wrist.

Sam’s mind spun as he heard the unmistakable sound of Dean taking his belt off with one hand. This situation was both foreign and familiar at the same time. Their father had spanked both of them a few times while they were growing up, and even Bobby had done it once, but Dean never had, and no one had ever used a belt on him. The fact that his older brother was doing this instead of punching him was more than a little confusing and disconcerting.

The belt whistled through the air before the impact made Sam grunt with a mix of surprise and pain. It landed five more times in quick succession. Sam started out groaning, but by the time the last smack landed, his groan had turned into a yell of both frustration and pain.

Dean paused and said, “I don’t give a rat’s ass about your intentions, because you and I both know what you’re doing is wrong. There’s no justification you can give me that I’m going to accept.”

“That’s rich coming from you!” Sam yelled, as he tried unsuccessfully to twist his arm out of his brother’s grip.

The belt landed six more times.

“We’re not talking about me,” Dean said, “But if you want to go there, fine. You’re right, it was wrong of me to make a deal with a crossroads demon. But that was a one time meeting with a guaranteed outcome. You’re meeting up with Ruby all the time! You’re letting her influence your decisions! And trust me, your judgement is clouded by all that demon blood you’ve been drinking.”

“Did you ever think that maybe I’m the one influencing her?” Sam yelled. “That maybe I’m using her to get what I want, so that I can stop this apocalypse single handed?”

“Jesus, you’re delusional,” Dean muttered as he started swinging the belt again.

“Ah!” Sam couldn’t stop the exclamations of pain that came out of his mouth with each harsh lash. The belt seemed to be landing again and again on the same spot, right in the middle of his ass, and each strike felt like it was searing into his flesh deeper and deeper. When the belt kept landing after six more hits, Sam rolled his hips to the side as far as he could towards Dean, in an attempt to make the whipping stop, or at least to make the target area more difficult to reach.

Grunting with irritation, Dean put a hand on Sam’s hip, shoved him back into place, and held him down as he said, “Do you want me to accidentally hit your hip? Stay still.”

“No! I am not going to just lie here and take it while you try to beat me into agreeing with you, because that’s never going to happen!” Sam struggled to twist free, but with one of Dean’s hands firmly gripping his wrist to keep his arm behind his back, and Dean’s other hand shoving his hip against the hood of the car, he couldn’t move very far.

Silence stretched out between them for several seconds, until Sam craned his neck back to look over his shoulder at his older brother. With one glance, Sam knew there would be no winning this argument. He’d seen that expression on Dean’s face more than once while growing up. When their father had given them an order that Sam was vehemently against, Dean always had that strange mix of determination and anguish on his face while he made Sam follow orders. It was an expression that clearly meant Dean hated what he was doing even more than Sam did, but Dean was going to force his way through it, because he believed it was the ‘right’ thing to do.

Dean’s tone was surprisingly calm as he said, “I don’t care if you agree with me or not, you’re going to stop drinking demon blood. If you keep going down this path, you’re going to turn into one of the things we hunt. And I…” Dean’s voice cracked with emotion. He cleared his throat, and said softly, “I can’t kill you, Sammy. No matter what you become, no matter who you hurt in the process, I’ll never be able to kill you.”

Sam’s stomach twisted with guilt. He hated the shame that coated Dean’s voice as he had admitted that. Sam broke eye contact, and leaned his forehead against his free arm. Deep down Sam had always known how Dean would feel about what he was doing, which was why he’d kept it a secret. Sam liked to tell himself that he didn’t care what Dean thought, and that he didn’t need Dean’s approval like he used to when he was twelve. But knowing that Dean was ashamed of him, or more accurately, ashamed of loving Sam too much to kill him even though he believed that Sam should be put down, made his eyes fill with tears.

“Which is why I’m putting an end to this right now, before you turn into a monster,” Dean said firmly, before lifting the belt up and slapping it down on the seat of Sam’s jeans again, and again.

Sam bit the sleeve of his jacket to keep from crying out as the tears of frustration started to slide down his face. Dean couldn’t, or wouldn’t, see Sam’s point of view when it came to Ruby, and that hurt. Even with the guilt Sam was feeling for making Dean ashamed of him, Sam still believed he was right. He knew drinking the demon blood was the way they were going to stop Lilith, but now he also knew that it could never happen with Dean by his side. They’d have to part ways, and patch things up once Lilith was gone. Sam would detox, and Dean would eventually forgive him, because he always did. For now he’d tell Dean what he wanted to hear, and then tonight while Dean and Bobby slept, Sam would leave.

The belt had only landed six more times while Sam had been making up his mind, but now Dean started moving the smacks down his thighs. “Ow! Okay! I get it, Dean! No more demon blood. I swear!”

Dean’s swing didn’t even pause as he said, “Nice try, kiddo, but I don’t buy that for a second. You’re way too stubborn to give in that easy.”

Over the next minute, Sam begged, pleaded, yelled, and eventually apologized and cried while Dean concentrated on covering his ass and thighs in lines of fire. It was so much worse than any other spanking Sam had ever had, that once Dean finally did stop, he didn’t know how to feel other than grateful that the pain had stopped.

Dean’s hand let go of his wrist, and he slowly pulled his arm around to the front, and hissed in pain as his shoulder protested. Then he dragged himself up, wincing as he stood. He knew he was much too sore to even contemplate sneaking off in the middle of the night, and as he wiped the slowing tears off his face, he realized that had probably been Dean’s goal all along.

He felt Dean’s hand squeeze his shoulder tentatively, and Sam jerked his shoulder away. “Fuck off, Dean” he muttered hoarsely.

Dean sighed and let go. “Get in the car,” he ordered as he buckled his belt back on, and walked around to the driver’s door.

Sam opened the back door, carefully crawled in, shut the door, and lay on his side. He glared at the driver’s seat as his brother got in and turned the ignition.

While the car was idling, Dean got the small first aid kit out of the glove box, grabbed a packet of painkillers, and held them out to Sam.

Sam begrudgingly took the offered medication, and pulled one of the water bottles out of the cooler on the floor behind Dean’s seat. He could feel Dean’s eyes on him as he swallowed the pills. He glared hatefully at his brother’s reflection in the rear view mirror, and Dean’s eyes focused on the road as he pulled back onto the empty highway.

# # #

Sam woke with a start when Dean cut the engine. He could see Bobby’s house out of the windshield, and realized he’d slept the whole way. The painkillers were wearing off now, and his entire ass ached. The rest of his body felt a little stiff and sore from sleeping in the cramped quarters, but he knew that would go away once he got up and moving. His shoulder was still a little sensitive, but that was nothing out of the ordinary for his line of work.

Dean got out, stretched, and opened Sam’s door for him. “Come on. Time to see what Bobby wants, and then you can face the music with him, too.”

Sam groaned as he climbed out. “We don’t have to tell him.”

Dean’s only reply was a snort of laugher.

Sam’s anger flared. “What? Beating the shit out of me wasn’t enough? Now you’re going to rat me out, too?”

Dean glared and shook his head. “No dumb ass.” He gestured to Sam’s legs as he walked. “He’s gonna know you’re injured because you’re walking funny, and he’s going to keep at you until you tell him what’s wrong.”

“What is wrong?” Bobby asked from the porch.

Both boys turned to see the older man standing in front of his now open door. Sam forced a smile onto his face and tried to walk up the stairs without a stiff gait. “Hey Bobby, that’s what we’re here to find out. What apocalypse business did you need us to rush over here and see?”

Bobby’s eyes narrowed. “What’s wrong with you?”

Sam tried for wide-eyed innocence. “Nothing.”

“Don’t lie to me, boy.” Bobby turned to the other Winchester. “Dean?”

Dean held both hands up and said with a smirk, “I’m not supposed to tell.”

“Real helpful, Dean,” Sam muttered as he rolled his eyes.

Bobby crossed his arms and glared at Sam. “I’m old, I’m tired, and there’s an apocalypse on the horizon. I don’t have time for pussyfooting around. Tell me what happened.”

Sam knew that Dean would tell Bobby if he didn’t, and he knew if he tried to just walk away, Dean would stop him, so he decided to just lay it all on the table. Bobby knew most of Sam’s other humiliating moments, so why not this one, too. With a sigh, Sam said, “I’ve been drinking demon blood. Dean found out and beat my ass.” He glared at his brother and added, “With a fucking belt.” Dean simply glared back.

Bobby looked back and forth between the two young men a couple of times, and then muttered, “I need a drink.” Instead of going to the fridge for a beer, Bobby went to his desk for the whisky and a shot glass.

Sam followed him in with Dean on his heels. They both stood in front of Bobby’s desk, and waited. The older man knocked back the shot, looked at them both, and opened his mouth to speak, but shook his head, and poured himself another. Once that one was gone, he looked at Dean and said, “You actually spanked him? With a belt?”

Sam glanced at Dean’s profile, and to his surprise Dean looked a bit chagrined and didn’t even attempt to defend his actions.


Bobby poured himself another, and then focused on Sam. “And you’ve been drinking demon blood, which I assume means you’ve been consorting with Ruby.”

“Yeah.” Sam could feel the blush crawling up his neck as Bobby continued to stare.

“Idjits,” Bobby muttered, and then drank the last shot. He set the glass down and said, “Well, it’s your lucky day, because I’ve got bigger problems than the two of you causing your usual mayhem.” He walked towards the basement door, and said, “Come on, I’ll show you why I called.”

They followed him down to his panic room. He stepped in and pointed to the little table against the wall. It had an old book lying open on it. “Take a look at that.”

They both walked over to it and looked at the book. It was open to a page on spells and wards to keep angels away. Sam frowned, because this wasn’t anything he didn’t already know. He heard the metal door clang, and whirled around.

“Bobby?” Sam asked.

The older man looked at them with sympathy through the little square hole in the metal as he locked the door shut.

“What the hell, Bobby?!” Dean said, walking over to the door.

“Sam needs to detox, and you need to help him through it.”

“This isn’t funny, Bobby,” Sam said. “Let us out.”

“You’re damn right it ain’t funny!” Bobby said. “Now that you two are out of commission for a few days, I’m gonna have to find another hunter to help put a lid on the newest fire that the brewing apocalypse has stirred up.”

“Days!” Dean said. “There’s only one cot, and no beer! I can’t stay here for days!”

“A little detox will do you some good too. I’ll bring you breakfast at seven.” With those words, Bobby shut the metal flap to close the hole in the metal door, and walked back upstairs.

“Bobby!” Sam shouted, and slammed his hand on the door. “You can’t keep us in here!

“Bobby!” Dean yelled. “Come on, man, let’s talk about this!”

After a couple of minutes of yelling, they both realized that the older man wasn’t coming back.

Dean sighed, and went to sit on the cot.

“This is your fault!” Sam said.

“My fault?” Dean scoffed. “How do you figure that?”

“If you’d talked to me instead of hitting me, we wouldn’t have had to tell Bobby anything!”

Dean rolled his eyes. “If I’d talked to you I’d still be pissed, which means I would have told Bobby what you’d been up to the second we got through the door. And then we’d be right back here. It’s not my fault Bobby cares enough to intervene when you go off the rails.”

Sam got his cell phone out, only to find he had no service. “Does your phone work?”

“You know it won’t. Bobby would have thought of that.” Dean got his phone out to check anyway. “Nope.”

Sam started walking around the room, and feeling the walls for weak spots. “Help me find a way out of here.”

With a sigh, Dean got up and started inspecting the walls with him. “You know as well as I do that there’s no way out, Sammy.”

“We have to at least try.”

Giving up on the walls, Sam looked at the items in the room. The cot was in the center, and the small table with the book on it was against the wall. There was a small wooden chair next to the table, and a metal bucket under it. Since there was no toilet, Sam assumed the bucket was the toilet. Frowning with distaste, he walked over to the small shelf that was on the other side of the room. It had some bottled water, a roll of toilet paper, a few books on monsters, a large homemade first aid kit, and extra blankets.

Sam opened the first aid kit to see if there was anything useful for an escape, but found nothing. He slammed it back on the shelf and muttered, “Damn it!”

Dean walked over to him, and looked at the items in the first aid kid. He pulled out a tube of ointment used to help heal bruising, and handed it to Sam.

“Put that on your ass,” Dean said.


“You heard me.” Dean turned his back to Sam. “Put it on.”

There were a few seconds of silence, where Sam had an internal debate on which was worse. The humiliation of Dean knowing he was putting soothing lotion on his bruised ass, or the pain of leaving his bruised ass alone. It didn’t take long for him to decide, and soon his jeans were at his knees, and he was awkwardly rubbing the lotion on his ass. He had to admit that after the initial burn, it did feel better. Once he was done, and his pants were back in place, he set the tube down and said, “Done.”

Dean turned back around, pulled more painkillers out, and handed those over along with a bottle of water. “Take those, too. Once the withdrawal starts, you might not be able to keep anything down, so you’d better take advantage of it while you can.”

Sam took the pills and glared at Dean. “If you think being nice to me now is going to make up for what you did, you’re wrong.”

Dean shook his head. “I’m not trying to make up for anything.” He walked over to the cot and sat down again. “Whether I’m giving you medication, or beating your ass, it’s all part of looking out for you.” He leaned down and started unlacing his boots.

“I don’t need looking after, Dean! I’m twenty-six.”

“Dude, I’m gonna be looking out for you when you’re forty.” He took one boot off and looked up at Sam. “Same way you’re always gonna be looking out for me, because we’re in this together, even when we piss each other off.”

Some of the anger Sam had been harboring dissipated with that sentiment.

“What are you doing?” Sam asked as Dean took his other boot off, set them under the cot, and lay down.

“Going to sleep. I’m beat, and I didn’t have a six hour nap like you did.”

“Sleep?! How can you sleep knowing we’re trapped in here!”

Dean got under the covers and rolled onto his side. “It’s not like there’s much else to do in here. Wake me up in six hours, and then you can have the cot. If Bobby checks on us, ask for some magazines.”

Feeling defeated, Sam muttered, “Yeah okay.” He went over to the one chair, and tentatively sat down. After thirty seconds he couldn’t take it, and stood back up. Sighing, he went to look through the books to pass the time.

After a couple of hours of being on his feet, Sam spread the extra blankets out on the floor by the cot, and lay on his stomach to read. Anxiously waiting for the withdrawal to start made it impossible to focus on any of the books for very long, and eventually he balled up his jacket, used it as a pillow, and tried to get some more sleep.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been dozing, but at some point he felt a warm blanket being draped over him, and opened his eyes long enough to see Dean squatting down next to him.

Sam muttered a half-hearted, “Still don’t forgive you,”

“Yeah, me neither, buddy,” Dean said as he squeezed Sam’s shoulder gently. “How about you take the cot now?”

Sam grunted in agreement, and moved himself up to the cot, taking the blankets with him. He wasn’t sure if Dean had meant that he didn’t forgive Sam, or if he’d meant he didn’t forgive himself for what he’d done to Sam, but Sam was too tired to figure it out. He felt Dean taking his shoes off, and muttered, “I’m not six.”

“Go back to sleep,” Dean ordered softly, before taking a seat in the chair, and picking up the book that was on the table.

Sam closed his eyes with a small scowl, because he realized that even though he was still pissed at Dean, having his older brother there was comforting. The thought of going through serious withdrawal symptoms was scary, but the thought of going through that withdrawal without Dean by his side was positively terrifying.

The End

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