None So Sneaky: Part One

[ashleywin]

WARNING: Contains the spanking of teenagers by their father.

DISCLAIMER: I own no characters from (or anything related to) the show Supernatural. I only want to play with them a little while. I promise to return them in (almost) the same condition.

TITLE: None So Sneaky: Part One

CHARACTERS: John Winchester, Dean (18) and Sam (14), Pastor Jim Murphy, OCs

IMPLEMENT: Hand, Switch, Belt

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John Winchester arrived with his sons, Dean and Sam, at his friend and fellow hunter, Pastor Jim’s house after the sun had dipped below the horizon. He had planned to be in Blue Earth some time ago, but unfortunately had been delayed by the antics of his sons. When the trio pulled up in the driveway of the small, well-kept house, John put the Impala into park and turned to face the boys, sitting side-by-side quietly squirming in the backseat.

“I want both of you to go inside, say ‘hello’ to Pastor Jim, go find yourselves a corner in your bedroom and think about what happened a little while ago, okay?” John said firmly.

“Yes, sir,” was the reply from Sam.

“But, Dad…,” Dean began.

“Do you have trouble following simple instructions?” John interrupted, his voice becoming louder with each word.

“No, sir,” Dean answered softly, his eyes downcast. At eighteen, he hated getting into trouble, but in his defense, he didn’t think he looked for it--it just seemed to find him.

The older of the two teens opened the car door and both got out, wincing when their butts slid across the seat. Each snuck a hand back to gingerly rub the soreness that still lingered from the ‘parental talk’ that had occurred a short time ago. John hadn’t been happy with their behavior and had demonstrated his displeasure on the backsides of the two young men currently heading for Pastor Jim’s front door.

The minister opened the door before the bell had finished chiming and he was greeted by the two Winchester boys. He invited them inside with a smile before shutting the door. He pulled both of them into a hug, glad to see them after such a long absence. Dean and Sam returned the hug, but with little enthusiasm. Pastor Jim pushed to boys back to study their expressions, but neither boy would raise their faces to look at him.

“What’s wrong, guys? I would’ve thought you’d be happy to see me after all this time,” the minister said, sounding disappointed with the greeting.

“Sorry, Pastor Jim. I guess we’re just tired,” Dean replied, too embarrassed to admit to the man the reason for their subdued demeanor.

“Sorry, we’re just tired,” Sam parroted his older brother, looking at the floor.

Jim was puzzled by the teens behavior, but didn’t comment on it. He was sure that John would fill him in later on the reasons the boys’ behavior was so uncharacteristic. Normally, all the Winchesters were happy to be in a stable home, even if it was only for a little while.

“Pastor Jim, we’re gonna go to our room, okay?” Dean said quietly, not looking the older man in the eyes as he shifted uncomfortably and subconsciously reached back to give his backside a small rub.

Suddenly, some of Jim’s questions were answered in his mind. The unenthusiastic greeting and the subdued demeanor now made sense. He studied the boys’ faces more closely and saw for the first time that they both had swollen, red eyes. Jim knew the punishment probably hadn’t been that long ago, and, if he knew John Winchester, it wasn’t pretty, either. John had definite ideas on how to raise respectful, well-behaved boys and even if Jim didn’t always agree with John’s methods, the minister had to agree they seemed to work.

“Sure, guys. You want something to eat first?” Jim asked. “Or perhaps some aloe?” he continued, knowing he was risking embarrassing the two teens, but wanting to offer assistance, none-the-less.

Dean looked up sharply, startled at the pastor’s statement. How did he know? He was sure that Pastor Jim would find out from his dad, but he had planned on being in the bedroom before his dad even came in the house. Now he was embarrassed that the secret was out. Being spanked was bad enough any time, but being spanked at eighteen was mortifying, especially when people found out about it.

“No, sir. Dad wouldn’t like that. We’ll just go to our room,” Dean replied as he grabbed Sam’s arm and steered him down the hallway to the room the boys always used when they visited. Each teen walked to a corner, placed their nose in it and with both hands reached back to caress their sore backsides. The action caused the boys to wince because their father had really let them have it, and even after an hour, their butts still burned and throbbed.

Jim walked to the front door and opened it, concerned that John had not left the car yet. He approached the driver’s side and gently tapped on the window, trying not to startle his friend. John looked up and gave the minister a small smile before opening the car door and standing up to pull him into a warm hug. Jim was surprised because the John Winchester he knew wasn’t usually so free with his affections.

“How you doing, Jim?” asked John as he released his friend from the tight hug.

“Fine and you?” the pastor said with a grin.

“Fine. We came as quick as we could when you called. A werewolf, huh?” John questioned.

“That’s what we think,” Jim answered.

“We? Who’s the ‘we’?” John asked, confused. He wasn’t aware of anyone else helping the pastor to hunt and became worried because he had a hard time working with amateurs. They had a tendency to almost get him killed.

“His name’s Greg O’Reilley and I know what you’re thinking. He’s a hunter, has been for a long time. He’s not an amateur. He knows what he’s doing,” Jim reassured his friend. “He’ll back here tomorrow after he picks his daughter up from school. She’s a senior and this is her spring break.”

“Whoa, wait a minute. He’s bringing a teenage girl here? Around Dean? I don’t think that’s gonna work,” John told the pastor. He knew his son, and if a girl was around, his mind wouldn’t be on the hunt, most likely it would be on scoring some nookie.

“Not a problem. They’re good practicing Catholics. I don’t think we have to worry about her,” Jim said, again trying to reassure his friend.

“It’s not her I’m worried about,” John sighed. This was a disaster in the making. Every instinct told him to take his boys and go back to Bobby’s house, but he couldn’t leave Pastor Jim in the lurch after he had promised to help and that wasn’t his way of doing things. He would just have to keep his sons occupied and away from the girl when she arrived. John hated to think it, but his only hope was that she was homely and fat. Of course, to Dean, after a while, even those things wouldn’t matter if he was horny, and she was willing.

“Maybe you could send a prayer to God for us tonight?” John requested with uncertainty. His faith was shaky at best and he felt strange to actually ask for a prayer, but if he ever needed one, now was the time.

“I pray for you and the boys every night, but I’ll say a special one, just for you, if it’ll make you feel better,” Jim said, chuckling.

“Thanks. I think I’ll need a lot of help,” John admitted. “You got any coffee? I really need some caffeine right now.”

“I’ll make you some. Come on in the house and we’ll talk in the kitchen while I finish dinner,” the minister said as he led the way into the house. “By the way, where’s the truck? I thought you’d bring both vehicles like you usually do. Since you gave Dean the Impala, I don’t ever see you driving it.”

“Broke the front axle a few weeks ago on a hunt. I had to get Bobby to tow it from Cheyenne for me. He’s finally got it ready and when we finish here, we’re gonna go pick it up,” John explained.

“I was still surprised to see you driving. I figured Dean wouldn’t let you drive anymore.”

“He had no choice,” John said tersely.

The two men entered the kitchen and Jim started the coffeemaker. He then opened the oven door to check on the lasagna and satisfied it would be done soon, he sat down at the table across from John. The two men sat in awkward silence for several seconds before Jim decided to ask the question that had been bothering him since shortly after the trio’s arrival.

“So, what happened?” he questioned the man seated across from him.

“What do you mean?” John answered, avoiding looking at the pastor.

“Don’t play dumb with me. You know what I mean. Those boys came in here with their tails between their legs. I could barely get them to look at me. So my guess is they got a little ‘John Winchester personalized parental attention’ a short time ago. Tell me I’m wrong,” Jim said, a little exasperated. Sometimes getting information out of John was like pulling teeth--and not as much fun.

John paused a few seconds before coming clean with his friend. He never could hide anything from the man. He wasn’t sure if it had something to do with Jim being a man of the cloth or not, but he had a way of wheedling things out of John that no one else could.

“Let me get us some coffee and I’ll tell you what happened on the way here. Okay?” John agreed as he rose to pour two cups of coffee. He walked back to the table and handed one to Jim, who nodded his thanks, before sitting back down. He took a deep breath because he was afraid the man sitting at the table with him would think he was too hard on his sons, but it was too late to worry about it.

-----------FLASHBACK--------

John and the boys had left the last hunt in Lake Havasu City, Arizona at dawn yesterday morning. The distance to Blue Earth was going to be over fifteen hundred miles and none of the three were happy about the length of the drive ahead of them. Dean started out driving, but John had to constantly warn him about watching the speed limit. They sure didn’t need to be stopped by the cops, not with the arsenal they carried in the trunk. For a while the older teen would slow down, but gradually his speed would increase when he thought his father was not paying attention. Soon, John had had enough.

“Pull over, Dean,” John ordered his son. “Now, this exit.”

Dean gulped, worried he had upset his father one too many times and that his backside was in serious jeopardy. He steered the car up the off-ramp, pulled into the nearest gas station and stopped at the gas pumps before shutting off the engine. He put his head down and waited for his father to yell at him. When John was silent, Dean looked over at him and smiled sheepishly.

“You think this is funny?” John asked gruffly. Dean shook his head and pursed his lips tightly.

“I want both of you to go use the restroom, get a drink and some snacks we all like, then come back here and get in the back seat. And I want silence for the next hundred miles. Got it?” John said roughly.

“But, Dad, I didn’t do anything!” Sam said irritably. He was getting in trouble because Dad was mad at Dean. It wasn’t fair! John turned to him sharply.

“Did you have something to say, boy?” John asked through clenched teeth.

When Sam realized his father’s mood, he quickly backed down. He was sure if he pushed, his dad would have no issue with handling his problem in the gas station restroom. “No, sir,” he answered timidly.

“Good. Now, both of you go do what I told you to do while I fill up the car,” John said.

“Yes, sir,” was the reply from both boys as they headed toward the convenience store to obey their dad.

Soon the trio was on the road again and the car was eerily silent. Dean was seething at having to ride in the back seat like a third-grader and Sam was angry that he had gotten in trouble because his dad was mad at his brother. John kept glancing in the rearview mirror, wordlessly daring either boy to challenge him. Lunchtime came, then went, without notice and still the tension was palpable. No one spoke more than a few sentences the rest of the day and the stops were limited to gas fill-ups and bathroom breaks. When dinnertime came, the trio had been on the road for almost fourteen hours with very few stops and John decided that they needed to quit traveling for the night and rest before someone exploded.

The Impala pulled into a no-tell motel that appeared to cater to the cities’ less desirables, but it seemed somewhat clean and reasonable priced. John went in, rented a room for the three of them and returned to the car and his waiting sons.

“Get out, get your stuff, and let’s go. We’re all tired and could use a good meal,” John said to his brooding sons who sat silently staring at him in the backseat. When the two teens did not obey immediately, John was livid. “I said, get out, get your stuff, and let’s go! If I have to say it again, I’ll be forced to take off my belt and wear both of you out right in this parking lot. Do you hear me?!” John said loudly to his two defiant sons. Sam sat stunned at his father’s words, but Dean responded angrily.

“I hear you. Everyone in this motel can hear you!” Dean smarted off. He was still angry at his father for banishing him to the backseat in his own car. John didn’t respond, except to grab Dean by the arm and bodily jerk him out of the car. He turned his son to face him and tried to get a hold on his own anger.

“That’s it. When we get into the room, you and me are gonna have a talk,” John growled as he pulled his older son by the arm toward the room. “Sammy, you wait right here and I’ll come get you in a little while,” John threw over his shoulder as he continued to drag the struggling Dean by the arm.

John took the key, unlocked the door and pushed his son inside, slamming the door behind them. He switched on the lights and turned to face his son who had fallen onto the nearest bed. Neither one of them spoke as the seconds ticked by, but for different reasons: John wanted to calm down and Dean was plain scared because he knew he had crossed the line this time.

“I’m so sorry, Dad, I said that. I wasn’t thinking and I’m tired. Please forgive me,” Dean finally pleaded with his father. He really was sorry, but he knew he deserved whatever punishment his father gave him.

“You think you can say ‘sorry’ and everything is alright again?” John asked in a low voice. “You’ve always had a smart-ass mouth and no matter what I do, you just keep on. One day you’re gonna smart off to the wrong person and get yourself hurt, boy.”

“Yes, sir, I know. I just can’t control it sometimes,” Dean admitted, feeling guilty. The truth was hard to take for the cocky eighteen year-old.

“Well, you’d better learn to control it because I’m not giving you another chance. Now, let’s go get our stuff and go eat,” John said as he reached for the doorknob.

“That’s it? I don’t get my ass beat?” Dean asked, incredulous. He didn’t understand what just happened. He never got a reprieve from punishment--well, almost never.

“I can still whip you, if that’s what you want,” John said, puzzled at his son’s reaction to his mercy.

“No, sir, I don’t want that,” Dean said hastily. “Thanks, Dad. I’ll try to watch the smart-ass.”

“You’d better, or I will whip you next time,” John promised his son in an ominous tone.

John and Dean returned to the car, grabbed their bags and Sam, then went back to the room to drop off their stuff. There was a small diner up the road and the Winchesters had a decent meal for a change. The conversation was minimal and the trio soon returned to the motel. The tension from earlier in the day seemed to have abated somewhat, but was still present, especially in regards to Sam.

“Sammy, go get your shower, brush your teeth, and get ready for bed,” John instructed his younger son.

“Why? It’s only nine o’clock,” Sam responded stubbornly, challenging his father’s words.

“Because we’re all tired and need to go to bed. Don’t make me tell you again!” John said firmly.

“If you’re tired, then you go to bed! I want to stay up for a while!” Sam smarted off, taking a page from the book of Dean Winchester.

John reached the bed his younger son was sitting on in three steps. He jerked Sam up by the arm and sat down, pulling his son to stand between his legs. He unfastened Sam’s jeans and pushed them, along with his boxers, down to his son’s knees, with Sam fighting him the whole time. John yanked the teen across his lap, raised his hand above his shoulder, and brought it down with a mighty SMACK! on Sam’s unprotected backside. The swats continued until the boy was crying and begging for his dad to stop. The spanking finally concluded and John drug his son over to the corner, pushing him into it with a command to stay put.

“You want to stay up for a while? Well, you can stay up, standing in the corner with a smarting backside!” John harshly announced to his crying son. He did not feel guilty for correcting his son’s behavior because he sure wasn’t going to put up with lip from a fourteen year-old.

Dean stood quietly watching while his dad spanked his younger brother and he did feel guilty. He had smarted off earlier and hadn’t been punished, but Sam, when he basically did the same thing, had been. He felt conflicted; should he confront his father or let it go? Dean debated with himself the whole time Sam was being punished, but couldn’t make up his mind. Maybe if he slept on it, the answer would present itself in the morning.

“Dean!” John said, moving to stand in his son’s face.

“Sir?’ Dean said, startled out of his reverie. “Were you talking to me?”

“Yes, I called your name twice, but you seemed to be a million miles away. I said for you to go ahead and get ready for bed while Sammy does his corner time. He’ll be there in a few minutes, but you go on and get your shower, please,” John said as he patted his son on the shoulder.

“Yes, sir,” Dean replied as he made his way over to his duffle bag to retrieve his dopp kit and some clean sleep pants. He entered the bathroom, closed the door, and soon the sounds of the shower could be heard.

John waited until heard the water running before going over to Sam, touching him on the shoulder and quietly telling him to turn around. When Sam complied, John pulled him into a hug and rubbed his back.

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” Sam said, still sniffling a little bit. John caught the ‘daddy’ and it nearly brought him to his knees. It had been a long time since either boy had called him that and he missed it so much.

“I know. I forgive you, son,” John said, releasing Sam from the hug, but still keeping his hand on the teen’s shoulder. “Why don’t you see if you can get your brother out of the shower and you get in. It’s been a long day and we all need to hit the sack.”

“Yes, sir,” Sam said, as he bent over and pulled up his pants, before walking over to his bag that was on the floor next to Dean’s.

At ten o’clock, John announced bedtime for the boys, but he left the light on next to his bed so he could read. Sam and Dean didn’t think it was fair they had to go to bed, but neither one wanted to challenge John Winchester, especially when one of them had already been spanked and the other one had come awful close to it. Despite the fact the boys didn’t really want to go to sleep, the emotions of the day and the long drive took their toll on the teenagers and sleep soon claimed them. John watched his sons slumber for a while before switching off the light and allowing sleep to claim him also.

The morning came too soon for the Winchester boys, as John rousted them from their sleep before six o’clock. They still had almost ten hours left on their trip and John was ready to get on the road. Despite the hours of sleep, both boys seemed to be in a foul mood after being woken up so early. The attitude issues started as soon as John ordered his sons into the car.

“Boys, we still have a long way to go. Hurry up, get your stuff in the trunk and plant your butts in the backseat!” John commanded in a no-nonsense voice.

“Fine!” Sam said testily. “We’re going!”

John grabbed Sam’s arm and asked with a growl, “Are we gonna have a problem this morning, Samuel? If we are, we can go back in the room and take care of it before we leave.”

Sam realized his error in judgment and cowed at his father’s tone. He knew John would have no problem wearing him out and then making him sit on his sore butt for the rest of the trip. He definitely didn’t want that because his backside still smarted a little from the spanking last night and he knew he couldn’t take one more smack without being miserable the rest of the day.

“No, sir. I’m sorry,” Sam said unconvincingly, as he pulled his arm out of his father’s grasp and walked towards the back of the car to deposit his duffle bag next to the others already in the trunk. He then went and sat down in the backseat, sulking. John was suddenly aware just how long this trip was going to be.

“Then let’s go,” John said as he opened the driver’s door and sat down, shutting the door securely. He glanced back realizing Dean hadn’t gotten into the car yet, so he leaned out of the car window and motioned to his son to get in. When Dean didn’t move, John opened the door and exited the car, taking the few steps to reach his son.

“Dean, let’s go. It’s a long way to Blue Earth and we need to get on the road. What’s the hold up?” John questioned his son.

“Dad,” Dean practically whined, “I wanna drive.”

“You proved to me yesterday that you need a few days from behind the wheel so you’ll listen to my instructions. Get in the backseat and let’s go!” John said, turning toward the driver’s door and opening it.

“But it’s my car!” Dean said, determined to get in the last word.

“One that I gave you! Now, get in or like I told Sammy, we can go back into the room and take care of your little problem before we leave. Is that what you want?” John questioned heatedly.

Dean was aware he was already pushing his luck, so he ground out, “No, sir.” He yanked open the door to the backseat and sat down with a huff, slamming the door to show his displeasure.

“You better watch it, son. I’ve already had about enough out of the two of you!” John said, as he looked at Dean and Sam in the rearview mirror. He noted that both boys were sullen and each stared out opposite windows without making a sound. It really was going to be a long trip. He started the car and pulled out of the parking lot only thirty minutes after waking the boys.

The trio was silent for almost two hours until John suggested they stop at a fast-food restaurant for breakfast. He knew the teens must be hungry, even if they weren’t telling him. When he saw several popular chain restaurants, he turned in the nearest one and was met with an immediate protest.

“Not here, Dad. Their food makes me puke!” Sam said angrily, pointing down his throat and making retching noises.

“Shut up, Sammy. It does not!” Dean replied crossly, pushing his brother.

“Stop pushing me, damnit!” Sam retorted, pushing back.

“Both of you stop it! I don’t know why you think you’re gonna get away with acting like this, but I’m here to tell you--you’re not! And Sammy, watch your mouth or we’ll see what flavor soap this restaurant has to offer!” John shouted to his two misbehaving sons. When neither son seemed to be backing down, John got out of the car and wrenched open the back door forcefully.

“Get out! Both of you! Now, or I swear I’ll swat you right in this parking lot and I don’t care who sees me do it!” John said, furious that his sons were being so incorrigible. Each boy eyed John warily as they passed him, fully expecting to be swatted for their behavior. John waved the boys into the restaurant and directed them toward the seats, telling them to stay put while he ordered.

“I want to order my own breakfast!” Sam protested, irate that his father wouldn’t let him even choose what he was going to eat. John gave him a look that clearly said he was nearing the end of his rope and Sam had better take heed or end up with a sore bottom yet again. So, the teen shut up and went back to his sulking.

John ordered for all three, brought the food to the table and began passing it out. Sam was relieved that his father remembered what he liked for breakfast and he ate with enthusiasm. Dean, still upset about his argument with his dad earlier, merely picked at his food. John knew how much his older son loved to eat, so he became concerned when Dean didn’t devour his breakfast as he normally did.

“What’s wrong, Dean? I thought I got something you liked but you’re not eating it,” John said, his fatigue making it difficult to recognize what was really going on with the older teen.

“I’m just not hungry,” Dean replied sharply, raising his eyes to give his father a hard stare. “I’ll just go get some coffee and I’ll eat at lunch.” Dean rose to go buy the coffee when the older man’s words stopped him.

“No, you won’t. Sit down! You’ll eat what’s there and drink your orange juice. You seem to be having an attitude problem this morning and I think you need to take a nap when we get back in the car before you get yourself into some serious trouble. Coffee will only keep you awake,” John stated, daring his older son to challenge his directive.

“What? Take a nap? Are you crazy? I’m eighteen, not four! I don’t need a nap!” Dean said angrily. John was immediately in his son’s face and he grabbed a fistful of shirt before pulling him close, shaking him to get his attention.

“You’ll do what I tell you to do! I say you’re gonna take a nap and that’s what you’re gonna do! You’re doing nothing right now but pissing me off and convincing me you do need a nap!” John’s voice was a low growl as he struggled to keep control of his festering anger. Dean was visibly shaken by his father’s words and nodded his acquiescence, though he was still upset. John let go of his son and pushed him back into his seat, ignoring the stares of the other patrons of the restaurant, as the trio finished their breakfast in silence.

When the three returned to the car and got in, John started the engine before turning around to address his two teenage sons. “I want both of you to stay on opposite sides of the seat. No fighting, or arguing. Both of you take a nap and when you wake up, you’d better have a different attitude or we’re gonna have a major problem. Do you both understand me?”

“Yes, sir,” came the reluctant reply from the older teen. The younger teen just stared out the window.

“Sam, did you hear me?” John said. Still no response from the teen.

John reached over the seat and smacked the side of Sam’s leg in order to get an answer from the teen.

“Ow! That hurt!” Sam said, as he rubbed the sore spot. “I heard you, but I don’t think it’s fair to make me take a nap when Dean’s the one with the attitude problem!”

“You little bitch!” Dean said infuriated, and grabbed Sam in a headlock, causing the younger boy to scream in protest.

“Let me go, you friggin’ jerk!” Sam hollered as he struggled to wrest out of his brother’s grasp.

“STOP IT, NOW!” John yelled as he pulled on both sons’ arms. “I’m sick of this crap!”

Dean and Sam instantly ceased their tussling and looked at their irate father with trepidation. He looked more pissed than they had seen him since the incident a few months ago at Uncle Bobby’s house and that worried the two teens. They feared an ass-beating was in the near future and if they were being truthful, they both knew they deserved it. Several minutes passed before John was calm enough to speak.

“Dean, you get up here in front and, Sam, you stay back there by yourself,” John directed, clearly still upset with his sons. “You’d better not say one more word to each other until lunch, or so help me, I’m gonna stop this car and beat your asses with my belt! Understand?”

“Yes, sir,” came the subdued reply from each boy. Dean got out of the backseat and into the front, amid steely glares from his younger brother.

When John pulled out of the parking lot, he reminded the boys they still needed to take the nap he had ordered them to take. Two pairs of eyes rolled, but neither boy protested because they knew they had already dodged one bullet and neither wanted to press their luck. John put the radio on an oldies rock station and turned the volume down low so the boys could try to sleep. Soon the hum of the powerful engine and the sounds of the soft music lulled the boys into a deep slumber. John chuckled to himself because he knew at least part of the boys’ bad temper was due to the lack of sleep--no matter how adamant the boys were about not being tired.

Just after twelve o’clock, John pulled into a small diner and stopped the car near the front entrance. When the engine shut off, both teens immediately awakened, stretching and yawning. Neither could believe they had slept so long, but they did have to admit, they felt better. The three Winchesters entered the diner, sat down and ordered the special. The tension that had plagued the group yesterday seemed to have all but disappeared and the trio actually found themselves enjoying each others company. After eating they returned to the car and the seats that had been ‘assigned’ to them. Even though the attitudes seemed to have changed, boredom soon set in and made both teens antsy.

“How much longer, Dad?” came the whine from the back. “My butt is practically growing to this seat.”

“We still have over four hours, so sit back and enjoy the ride,” John said with a small laugh.

“Hey, Dean, how ‘bout you let me ride in the front for a while? Please?” Sam asked hopefully.

“Nothin’ doin’, Sammy. The grown-ups get the front and the bitches get the back!” Dean answered with a superior smirk.

“Dean! Watch your mouth!” John admonished his son. “Sammy, we’ll be there before you know it.”

Sam was upset at Dean’s comment and decided to express his displeasure by kicking the back of Dean’s side of the seat. He knew he would most likely be in trouble when his father figured out what was going on, but he didn’t really care. He would show Dean who was the bitch!

THUMP. The first kick wasn’t too hard so he could gauge his brother’s reaction. When Dean just shifted slightly in the seat, Sam tried again, but harder. THUMP. This time Dean looked at him in the rearview mirror and gave him a death glare. When Sam tried a third time, he actually kicked hard enough that he felt a pain in his foot. THUMP!

“Damnit! Stop it, Sammy!” Dean shouted irritably, as he turned around to look at his brother.

“What’s going on over there?” John asked, unaware of Sam’s behavior.

“That little bitch is kicking the seat! He’s mad cause he has to sit in the back,” Dean spat out.

“Sammy, are you kicking the seat?” John asked, studying his younger son in the rearview mirror.

“Not on purpose! I was just moving my feet and I accidentally bumped the seat!” Sam said, giving his father the puppy-dog eyes he was famous for using in times like this.

“That little bitch is lying!” Dean yelled. “You don’t really believe that do you?”

“Dean, now Sammy said it was an accident. You need to calm down. He won’t do it again, right, Sammy?” John said as he looked pointedly at his younger son.

“No, sir,” Sam said, trying to sound sorry. He decided to wait a while before he tried again, so his father wouldn’t get suspicious. After another fifty miles had passed, Sam once again kicked the back of Dean’s seat. When Dean looked up sharply at him in the mirror, Sam just smirked.

Time passed slowly for the Winchesters and all were lost in their own thoughts. The roads seemed to stretch on endlessly and the hours crept by sluggishly. Blue Earth appeared to move further and further away as the day grew longer and longer.

“How much longer now, Dad?” Sam asked, tired of being bored, but really tired of being cooped up in the car for so many hours with little to amuse himself. Dean wouldn’t talk to him, because not only had Sam been kicking his seat, but he was still upset his father wouldn’t let him drive his own car.

“Little less than an hour now, Sammy,” John said, sighing. They were tired and the trip had taken its toll on all the Winchesters.

If Sam had been smart, he would have relaxed and enjoyed the fact that the journey would soon be over. But sometimes teenagers do stupid things to get themselves into trouble and Sam was no exception. He decided to kick Dean’s seat again, and this time when his brother glared at him in the rearview mirror, Sam flipped him off, before smirking at him again. Dean came unglued and tried to dive over the front seat to grab his brother, but he bumped into his father, causing him to swerve across the center line. John jerked the steering wheel back over to the right, narrowly missing the oncoming traffic. Dean and Sam had stopped fighting and held their breath until their father steered the car over onto the shoulder and put it in park. No one said a word and the only sound was John taking in gulps of air, as he tried to calm himself down.

Almost five minutes passed before John trusted himself to not kill his sons. He hadn’t been this mad in a very long time, not counting the incident at Bobby’s house awhile ago. The boys were suddenly afraid and toyed with the idea of bolting from the car, but remembering how John had dealt with Dean a few months ago for running, they decided to stay and take their licks like men.

John pulled the car into gear and drove back on the road, without addressing what had just happened. He continued on for a few miles until they came to a dirt road and John turned onto it. Neither boy asked where they were going because they knew their father was looking for a private place to beat their asses without any witnesses. That meant the boys were going to be doing a lot of hollering.

Soon an abandoned farmhouse came into view and the teens wondered if their father already knew of its location. John parked the car, got out, and motioned for both his sons to do the same. Sam and Dean nervously got out and followed their dad to a stand of trees twenty or so feet from the car.

“You know we almost got killed, right?” John started, sounding eerily calm.

“Yes, sir. It’s my fault,” Sam and Dean both said at the same time, causing them to look at each other in surprise. Each one truly believed they were solely to blame.

“Damn right, it’s both your fault. Sam, I know you’ve been kicking Dean’s seat and aggravating him since lunch. Dean, you know better than to jump across the seat when the car is moving, no matter if Sammy flips you off or not. And yeah, I saw that, Sammy. Both of you were wrong and both of you are gonna get a whipping like I never thought I would have to give you in your life. You’re getting the kind of whipping my dad gave me when I really screwed up,” John said disappointedly to his sons. The last statement really worried the boys because they knew their grandfather had been really hard on their dad when he was growing up in Kansas.

John reached into his jeans pocket, fished out his knife and handed it to Dean, who took it reluctantly. The knife had been a gift for John’s twelfth birthday and had been used to cut countless switches that were used on his bare backside, both by his mother and father. He looked at his older son and pointed at the trees, feeling a familiar tightening in his stomach.

“Go over there and cut me a switch off that hickory tree. It needs to be about as big around as your pinkie finger. Strip the leaves and twigs off it and bring it to me,” John instructed his son.

Dean crossed over to the tree and looked back sadly at his brother because he knew if he had just ignored Sam for a little while longer, neither one of them would be in this mess. He picked a switch he thought would satisfy his father and cut it loose from the tree, before stripping the small limbs and leaves from it. He walked back over to his dad and wordlessly handed him the wicked looking switch. John started back towards the car and motioned both boys to follow him. Sam was shaking and Dean put his arm around his shoulder, giving him a squeeze. When they reached the car, John took each son’s arm and turned them facing the hood. He decided it would be less stressful if he punished both of them together.

“Drop your jeans and boxers and lay over the hood of the car,” John instructed his sons. “Sammy, because it’s your first time with a switch, I think ten is enough to teach you a lesson you’ll never forget. Dean, what you did was reckless and stupid, so I think you need fifteen to drive the lesson home.”

Both boys sighed before undoing their pants and pushing them, along with their boxers, down to their knees before leaning over the Impala’s hood. John steeled his heart and raised the switch above his shoulder before bringing down with a thwip! on Sam’s bare backside. Sam screamed and Dean reached out his hand to grab his brother’s hand and squeeze, willing him to be strong. John brought the switch down four more times on his sobbing younger son’s ass before moving on to Dean’s bare backside. ‘Holy crap, no wonder Sammy screamed!’ was the only thought that ran through Dean’s mind as the switch landed with a loud thwip! on his bare butt. He took the first few stoically, but when his father reached seven, he couldn’t be silent anymore and broke down into sobs. John turned to deliver the second set of five licks to Sam’s backside and almost broke down himself when he heard the piteous sobs of his younger son. He remembered what it felt like to get his ass worn out with a switch and he was sympathetic to both his sons, but they needed to learn a hard lesson. Dean was sobbing as hard as Sam was when his father finished administering the final eight licks to his welted backside.

John broke the switch in half and flung it as far as he could away from them. He turned back to his sons and rubbed their backs, shushing them. It seemed to take longer for both teens to calm down than it ever had before and John was beginning to get concerned when he realized the sobs had at long last slowed. John sighed with relief before helping each son to stand. He grabbed both boys in a tight hug, so grateful the only injuries suffered by the Winchesters was to the young men’s’ backsides. The trio stood entangled for several minutes until John pushed them back and encouraged them to pull up their pants.

“We still have a little ways to go to get to Pastor Jim’s and he was expecting us there a while ago. We need to get on the road,” John said somewhat sternly, as he went and opened the back door of the car. “Why don’t you both get in the back seat and lay down until we get there, okay?” John continued gently.

Both boys gingerly crawled in the back seat and moved around until they found a tolerable position that didn’t put too much pressure on their aching and burning backsides. John closed the door with a click, got into the driver’s seat, and he headed the car toward Blue Earth.

-------------END FLASHBACK----------------

“You wanted to know, so, that’s what happened,” John told his friend. He was waiting for Jim to at least give him a dirty look for being so harsh with his sons, but he was amazed at the pastor’s reaction.

“Sounds like they got just what they deserved, John,” the minister said, as he got up to take the lasagna out of the oven. He set the hot pan on the stovetop and placed the waiting bread in to heat. “How ‘bout you go check on your boys and see if they’re ready for dinner.” John left the kitchen feeling better than he had all day.

Sometimes John had to be hard on his sons, but he did what he had to keep them safe and to help them grow up to be good and decent men. He hoped his sons could someday understand that and could forgive him, like he had forgiven his father. Someday.

----------to be continued----------