Author: Cat

Prompt: #8 – Self-destruction

Rating: R

Type of Story: General

Author's Website: Cat's Website


Author's Note: Disclaimer- I don't own anything from Supernatural and I'm not making any money from this fic. Summary - After the events of Asylum, Sam starts on a self-destructive path, leaving it up to Dean to take a hand. Warning - spoilers up until the episode Asylum; mild swearing; mentions of violence


Depressed



Sam stared at the ghost, somehow not able to bring his gun up and shoot. Even as the spirit shot towards him, he kept his weapon at his side, almost paralyzed by something.

A split second before the ghost would have hit him, it disintegrated right before Sam's eyes.

"Sam? Are you all right?"

"I'm fine." Sam avoided looking into his brother's eyes. "We should find those bones and take care of them." It had only been two days since the events with the crazy doctor; and Sam still couldn't look his brother in the eye.

The memories of him shooting Dean were still too raw...

Dean watched Sam for a few moments, his face expressionless. Sam still felt a little shiver of fear, though. He reminds me of a big cat about to pounce...

Finally, though, Dean shrugged and turned away. "Well let's go, then."

Sam let out the breath he hadn't even realised he'd been holding and followed Dean down the hallway, drawing his gun up with the intention of protecting his brother.

I just hope he doesn't need protection from me again...

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Dean cast a sideways glance at his brother as he turned off the junction. Sammy's not talking to me. Not that he's very talkative at all, really - but it seems more than that this time. Dean frowned as a sudden thought hit him. Is he pissed at me for not being able to protect him from Doctor Ellicott? Dean blamed himself for not being able to stop the doctor from possessing his brother.

Sam shouldn't have had to experience that...

"What?" Sam turned his head and frowned at Dean. "Why are you staring at me like that?"

Dean took his time answering. "You know, Sam, something's been bothering me. You spaced out completely when that ghost was about to attack you. It's not like you. What happened?"

Sam looked down a moment. "I was distracted, I guess. It happens."

"Not for you, it doesn't." Dean wasn't buying that for a moment. He frowned inwardly, hating the way he was about to start on his brother. Why do I have to be the dad all of a sudden? But, of course, it wasn't all of a sudden. Dean had made a vow when he was much younger to protect and look out for his little brother. Sometimes - particularly on occasions like these - Dean felt like a second father. "Sam, you can't take chances with your life." Protecting you is my job. But Sam got all hot and bothered whenever Dean dared to bring that up.

You're my brother, Dean; not my keeper.

"It doesn't matter." Sam stared out of the window.

"Yeah, it matters." You really haven't figured it out yet, Sammy? And you're supposed to be the smart one. Dean had to restrain himself not to give his brother a good shake. "What you do affects the hunt. You can't just throw your life away for no reason." Even if you have a good reason, it's not gonna happen.

Sam said nothing - and that concerned Dean more than he cared to admit. Normally, Sam took every opportunity to needle Dean about his dedication to hunting. Come to think of it, Sam's been acting strangely since we finished up at the asylum. Could it be a left-over effect from Doctor Crazy's meddling?

"So... Where do you want to eat?" Dean wasn't ready to drop it by any means; but he wanted Sam to think he was safe before big brother came down on him hard.

"I don't care." Sam continued to stare out of the window.

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Dean came awake with a start as the motel door slammed closed. He sat up, automatically reaching for the knife under his pillow - but then paused as he realised who it was. "Where have you been?"

"Out; getting breakfast," Sam answered. He sat down on the other bed - which Dean could see hadn't been slept in. "It's six in the morning. Want something to eat?"

"You haven't slept at all, have you?" Dean couldn't be called a morning person by any stretch of the imagination, but he was hardly unobservant. "You been having nightmares again? About Jess?" He tried to hide just how worried he was, but had the feeling he wasn't quite succeeding. I don't think you were just distracted, Sammy. What's with you? I thought the nightmares were getting better.

"Dean, I'm fine." Sam stood up and set his cup on the table. "While I was out, I found a possible case to take on. There's this island which is deserted apart from some killer dogs."

Yeah, Sam, changing the subject is really gonna work. Dean frowned, taking note of the dark circles under Sam's eyes. His concern for his brother deepened greatly; and with it came the certainty that if he didn't do something, he was going to end up losing his brother.

"Sam." Dean leaned forward slightly, hands on his knees. "You've been acting strangely since what happened at the asylum."

"You mean since I shot you."

Dean raised his eyebrows and immediately pushed down the feeling of hurt betrayal which threatened to rise up and engulf him. I don't blame Sam. If it had been me, the same thing probably would have happened. "Didn't we already get over this?"

Sam stared at Dean. "I shot you! How can you just forget that?"

Dean narrowed his eyes. "I hope you're not telling me that's why you've been acting like this." There was a warning note in his voice and he shifted position slightly.

"Yeah, well, I probably deserve whatever happens to me." Sam either didn't hear the warning note in Dean's voice, or chose to ignore it.

Well, Sammy, you've got another think coming. Dean stood up; and, before his brother could react, he spun Sam round and pushed him face-down onto the bed. Dean then leaned on Sam's back to keep him down.

"Dean?" Sam started to struggle, but paused as Dean patted his denim-clad behind. "What are you doing?" There was a hint of panic in his voice.

"Come on, Sam. It hasn't been that long since you've been in this position." For a moment, Dean allowed himself a trace of amusement. Then, he raised his hand and brought it down again in a sharp smack.

Sam yelped - though Dean felt it was more from surprise than pain. Dean's hand rose and fell again, as he easily kept his brother pinned down. "Is this what you want, Sammy? You feeling guilty for something you had no control over, so you want to goad me into punishing you?" Actually, that should have occurred to Dean before - Sam had frequently all but asked for spankings when he'd been a lot younger.

"I shot you!"

"That's not an answer, Sam." Dean kept up a slow, steady pace. Already, Sam was squirming around, trying to dodge the worst of the blows. "Stay still," he warned.

"Go to hell," Sam muttered.

Dean raised his eyebrows. He paused the spanking in order to deftly flick the button on Sam's jeans. He yanked the zipper down and then pulled his brother's jeans down to just below his knees. "Care to rethink that attitude, little brother?"

Sam just lay there in stubborn silence, only shuddering a little at the hard smacks raining on the seat of his briefs.

This isn't working... at least not on its own. Dean struggled to remember how their father had handled the whole spanking thing. Scolding at the same time had worked particularly well, hadn't it? Then, too, Dean wasn't quite sure Sam really understood what the punishment was actually for.

"You know, little brother," Dean said, gentling the scalding smacks a little in order to make himself heard, "You wouldn't be in this position if you'd done just one little thing. Know what that is?"

"Not gone with you into the asylum?" Sam suggested through gritted teeth.

Dean closed his eyes briefly. Stubborn kid... he thought affectionately. "You're all about the sharing and caring thing, Sammy. Do you think it only works one way? If you've been feeling guilty, you should have told me, instead of letting things get this bad. I know you've always got my back." The last was said barely above a whisper.

Sam buried his face in his arms and mumbled something. Dean couldn't catch all of it, but he made out the words, "weak," and, "hate me."

"You're not weak," Dean said sharply. "And I don't hate you, Sammy." Dean's whole life had been about protecting his brother... He could no more hate Sam than hate his father.

Sam's shoulders started shaking. If Dean strained his ears, he could just about hear his little brother sobbing. He's getting there... I should never have let it get this far. "It doesn't matter what Ellicott made you do," Dean said. When Sam started to protest, Dean cut him off. "Yeah, the doctor made you do it. Unless you were about to try shooting me anyway? And don't forget, Sam; I goaded you into taking and shooting that gun. Even under the crazy doctor's control, you still resisted." Dean let the pride he felt creep into his voice.

"I should have been able to resist completely, otherwise what good are my psychic abilities?" But Sam sounded tired more than anything else.

"Last I checked, Sammy, your powers are those weird visions; not shielding yourself from possession. And that sort of thing just makes you more susceptible to spirits and demons, not less." Dean increased the force of his swats a little, not wanting to continue this any longer than he had to. "Ellicott just brought everything to the surface. He blew every little fight way out of proportion. I trust you, Sammy."

It was probably Dean's words more than the spanking which started the violent sobs. When he heard them, Dean gave a silent sigh of relief and stopped, resting his aching hand on Sam's heated bottom a moment before lightly rubbing Sam's back. "It's all right. It's over. I... forgive you," he said haltingly.

After a few moments, Sam's sobs started to die down. He started to push himself up; and Dean moved back to let Sam regain his feet. For a moment, Dean just watched his brother. Then, he simply held his arms out - and was hit full-force by Sam's hug.