Author’s Note: This little story was written for Chiki, who put the idea in my head. This is a ‘missing scene’ from Season 8 Episode 1 ‘Let’s Talk About Kevin’. I’m not recapping the episode, I’m just starting mid scene, so if you haven’t seen the episode, the story might not make much sense.
Disclaimer: I don’t own any of these characters, and I’m not making any money from this story.
Warning: Nonconsensual spanking of an adult by his older brother.
Dean listened to another message Kevin had left and almost lost his shit. The urge to punch Sam was so strong that his fist curled in his lap. But a year spent in Purgatory spent with Benny had given him a new perspective on several things in life. Instead of storming over and socking his brother in the jaw, he simply looked over at the other man, and tried to figure out what had gone wrong, and how he could fix it.
He scrutinized his brother for a few seconds without the younger man noticing. Sam appeared skittish. His eyes kept darting around the room, while he nervously stirred the food in his bowl. Dean could remember sixteen-year-old Sam doing the same thing after messing up, and knew without a doubt that his little brother felt guilty about their previous conversation.
Dean felt a familiar weight settle on his shoulders. The burden of responsibility for Sam had been missing for the past year. He wasn’t sure if he was happy to have it back or not, but Sam had clearly lost his way. Sam had turned his back on hunting. He’d decided to have a ‘normal’ life, as if hunting was a choice instead of an obligation, and it was up to Dean to set him straight, like it or not, because everyone else was gone.
The only question was how to get Sam back on track. Yelling didn’t do much good, and honestly, talking things out didn’t usually work either, because Sam was as stubborn as a mule when he thought he was right. The urge to punch him was back, but Dean hated the sick feeling he got in his guts every time their arguments got to that point. He took a deep breath and wondered what advice Benny would give him. The vampire’s favorite phrase had been ‘those who don’t learn from history are doomed to repeat it’. Dean had a lot of history with his little brother, and when he thought about what had and hadn’t worked to set Sam straight in the past, one clear answer came to mind.
Dean’s eyes narrowed in on Sam again. Maybe repeating some history was exactly what this situation called for.
Sam stilled suddenly as he caught Dean looking at him intently.
“What?” Sam asked.
With his decision made, Dean pulled the headphones out of the cell phone he was holding and replayed Kevin’s messages for Sam to hear. The first message wasn’t so bad, and he could see Sam trying to pretend it didn’t bother him. The second message had Sam standing up and walking closer to give it his full attention. For the third and fourth messages Sam gave Dean that pathetic expression that said both ‘I’m sorry’ and ‘please don’t be angry’ all at the same time. Dean hated that look. As if he didn’t have a thousand reasons to hate himself already, Sam had to give him that look every time he got into trouble.
Dean stood, pointed the phone at his brother’s chest, and said with a glare, “He was our responsibility,” he chucked the phone at Sam, “and you couldn’t answer the damn phone.”
Sam caught the phone, and opened his mouth as if to say something, but then closed it again.
Dean shook his head, and jabbed a finger at his brother’s chest. “Don’t. Don’t even try to make excuses, or justify what you did. I don’t want to hear it.”
“Dean…” Sam sounded weary as he set the phone down on the kitchen table behind him.
“No.” Dean cut him off. “This isn’t a conversation.”
Dean pulled out the kitchen chair that was next to Sam, turned it around to face away from the table, got a tight grip on his brother’s arm with two hands, and yanked him towards the chair while sitting down himself. As he’d been hoping, the element of surprise prevented an actual struggle from his slightly larger brother, and before Sam knew what was happening, he was face down across Dean’s lap.
# # #
Sam could not believe the position he was in. Had his brother actually just pulled him over his knee? He was certainly familiar with the position; it had just been a really long time since he’d been in it.
“What the hell, Dean?”
“Dude, I’m not fourteen!”
“You sure about that, Sammy?” Dean asked.
Another irritating smack jerked Sam’s body forward. He made a halfhearted attempt to push himself up, but didn’t actually struggle. He wasn’t willing to start a fistfight over a few smacks to his ass… at least not yet. Dean roughly shoved him back down and swatted him harder. Sam thought that maybe he should have been paying more attention when Dean was proving he wasn’t possessed, because this shit wasn’t normal.
Dean landed another harsh swat and said, “I’m pretty sure you were fourteen or fifteen when you started up with that nonsense about not hunting when you grew up.”
Sam sighed and rolled his eyes while staring at the floor. This was an argument they could never resolve, because his poor brainwashed older brother actually believed that hunting was an obligation and not a choice. Sometimes Sam hated their father.
“I understand needing a break,” Dean said, and then paused long enough to land two more hard slaps. “I totally get that.”
Two more swats cracked against Sam’s ass, and he stifled an annoyed groan. His jackass brother appeared to be following the same pattern he always followed; lecture with swats, the actual spanking, and then some questions to make sure Sam got the point. That meant Dean was serious about this whole ridiculous thing. If Sam didn’t already feel guilty about not looking for Dean, and about not listening to his phone messages, he’d jam his elbow into Dean’s side, and tell him to screw off. But he did feel guilty, so he resigned himself to letting it happen as long as Dean didn’t take it too far.
Dean continued lecturing and landed a swat or two after each sentence. “I’ve taken a break from hunting more than once. But when you take a break you still listen to your God damn phone messages. You listen to them every day, and when someone needs your help, you call another hunter to help them. You don’t turn the phones off, and pretend they don’t exist for months on end. People don’t call us to chat, Sammy, they call us when their lives are on the line, and you turned your back on all of them.”
Well fuck, if Sam hadn’t feel guilty before the lecture, he certainly would after it. Guilt had always been the worst part about Dean spanking him. His brother never resorted to spanking unless he had a valid reason. Sam hadn’t been spanked all that often growing up, but often enough for it to seem like a normal response to bad behavior. He hadn’t always agreed with the spankings he’d gotten from John. In retrospect he could understand that John always thought he’d had a valid reason, even if Sam still didn’t agree with some of them. But the few times it had been Bobby or Dean doing the spanking, he’d always known he deserved it. Which sucked, because then he couldn’t hide behind righteous indignation while he was getting his ass roasted.
Apparently done with the lecture, Dean wrapped an arm around Sam’s waist, reached under him and unsnapped his jeans.
“Seriously, Dean?” Sam demanded while reaching back to grab his pants.
Dean slapped his hand away, grunted affirmatively, and shucked the jeans down to Sam’s knees. Sam curled his fist, getting ready to fight, but then his stupid martyr of a brother said quietly, “I get why you didn’t come looking for me, but Kevin deserved more from you.”
Guilt won out, and Sam unclenched his fist.
Dean tightened his grip, and started repeatedly slapping his hand down on Sam’s boxer-briefs as fast as he could.
Sam clenched his jaw and held his breath for a few seconds, holding his entire body tense to try and deal with the increased pain. Ten swats later, he couldn’t hold his breath anymore. When he exhaled, he couldn’t stop a small grunt of pain from escaping with it, and then when he sucked some air through his clenched teeth it made a hissing noise. His brother clearly hadn’t been slacking off in purgatory, because holy crap did he have some power behind his swing.
He lost count of the smacks around twenty-five, and put all of his concentration into not making a fool of himself by yelping, kicking, or reaching back to try and block Dean’s hand the way he had when he actually was fourteen. But he could only do that for so long, and his fucking brother just kept hitting. His legs started to twitch against his will, and his hand kept coming off the floor in an aborted attempt to cover his rear end.
“Okay!” Sam yelled before he really lost control of himself. “I get it! I’m a total dick for not being there when Kevin needed me! Ow! So could you just… Ow! Could you just stop now!”
There was no acknowledgement that he’d even spoken, let alone a pause in the spanking.
“Come on, Dean… Shit! I’m sorry, okay? Ow! I swear it won’t happen again! Dean, please!”
Just as he was about to really start flailing to get away, the spanking finally stopped. Sam lay still, breathing hard, and tried to get a grip on his emotions while he waited for the pain to die down. He could hear Dean breathing hard too, and felt him shaking out his sore hand.
A few seconds later, Dean said quietly, “What are you going to do the next time you take a break from hunting?”
Sam cringed. He hated this part. The redundancy of it made it seem childish, which was embarrassing. “I’ll check my phones once a day,” he muttered.
Dean lifted the arm he’d been using to restrain Sam and gently pushed at his side. “Alright then, get up. You’re putting my legs to sleep.”
Sam awkwardly pushed himself up, and immediately yanked his jeans up. He tentatively rubbed his butt, and frowned. Sitting was going to suck for a couple of hours.
He glared at Dean, and if the older man had been smirking, he probably would have decked him, but Dean just looked tired.
“Don’t look at me like that, Sammy,” he muttered as he stood and headed to the fridge.
“You’re an asshole,” Sam said, and then almost regretted the words when he saw the flash of hurt cross Dean’s features.
“Yeah, probably,” Dean agreed, twisting the cap off the beer he’d taken out. “But you deserved it.”
# # #
Dean ignored his pouting little brother, and sank onto the couch with his beer. He felt like he could sleep for a month after that emotional shit storm, but first he needed to finish the guilt trip he was taking himself on.
He got out his old journal of contacts, and pretended to look at it while he thought over what had just happened, and tried to convince himself that he’d done the right thing.
Even though he purposely kept his eyes forward, he could see Sam out of the corner of his eye, and noticed that the kid finished his dinner while standing at the kitchen counter. Sammy always was a whiny little bitch after getting spanked, complaining loudly both verbally and non-verbally for days.
After he was done eating, Sam cleaned things up, and went to the desk by the fireplace, apparently to take solace in his laptop. Dean heard Sam hiss softly when he sat down, and rolled his eyes.
A somewhat uncomfortable silence filled the cabin for the next ten minutes. Dean had almost gotten to the point where he could forgive himself for hurting Sam when the younger man said, “Hey. Listen to this, Kevin’s last message. Listen to the background.”
Surprised that Sam was listening to the messages again, Dean turned around and listened to the message, but couldn’t make much out. Sam did some mumbo jumbo on the computer and then played it again with the background noise being prominent.
Sam laid out his theory of where Kevin had gone, and when Dean didn’t respond enthusiastically, Sam said, “It’s the best lead we’ve got.”
“We?” Dean asked.
“You were right,” Sam said sincerely.
Dean’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. Was his brother actually admitting that he’d been wrong?
“He was our responsibility,” Sam said. “So let’s find him. Okay?”
With those words, Dean was able to forgive himself for what he’d just done, and he was also able to start forgiving his wayward brother for royally screwing up the past year.
“Okay then,” Dean said with a genuine smile. “We’ll head out first thing in the morning.” Trying to get past any awkwardness, he gestured to Sam’s empty beer bottle and said, “Want another?”
Sam smiled. “Sure.” He stood with a slight wince and gestured to the ancient television. “Wanna see if any stations come in?”
He got them a couple more beers, and then sat next to his gargantuan little brother on the tiny couch. They watched a stupid movie together, and Dean felt relatively good about life for the first time in a long time - and he could tell that Sam did, too.
(Feedback makes me happy.)