Fireworks Fic Prompt
Title: Fireworks (prompt fic)
Author: brassband777
Characters: Sam, Dean, John
Scenario: Dean buys some fireworks to cheer Sam up. Of course, things don't go according to plan!
Implement: hand, hairbrush
Summary: Prompt fic written for capricorn86's request for a fic relating to the episode 'Dark Side of the Moon' (Season 5)
Author's Notes/Warnings: Contains parental spanking of minors.
John Winchester paused for a moment before entering the house. He passed his hand wearily over his eyes. He knew that the news that he was bearing would not go down well with his sons. He hated having to uproot them again, but he had taken care of all of the hunts that were within reasonable travelling distance and Pastor Jim had located a hot spot two states away.
They had stayed in the town of Somerset Falls for just over 6 months, which was far longer than they had remained in the majority of other places over the years. It was a large, self-contained town, made up on the whole of friendly, welcoming people.
On the one hand, John had been glad to be able to give his sons a brief taste of normalcy. Staying in one place for this extended period of time had allowed his boys to make proper friends, rather than just acquaintances and given them the opportunity to engage in normal teenage activities. Dean had of course still accompanied him on hunts when they didn’t interfere with school and he had taken Sam along on some routine salt and burns, though he planned to introduce the kid to hunting properly when he turned 14. As his youngest had only recently turned 13, John knew that thankfully that wouldn’t be for a long while yet.
Now that John was planning on moving on however, he knew that the taste of normality that he had given his children would make leaving a million times harder than usual. Dean would be disappointed, but he would still follow his father’s lead without question, of that John was sure. The problem would be his youngest. Sam had settled in really well here - he had made three really close friends and they were all in the local soccer team. That, added to the fact that the dreaded teenage hormones had just begun to make an appearance made John fear that there would be fireworks in his house a week early, figurative ones that is, while the real ones would no doubt go off the following week on the 4th of July.
Realising that he couldn’t put it off any longer, John took a deep breath and entered the house to face the music.
Dean and Sam looked up from the sofa where they were sitting when their father entered. Sam immediately jumped up and ran to hug him. John tightened his arms around his baby and dropped a kiss onto the boy’s tousled head. “Miss me?” he enquired teasingly, “I definitely missed you!”
Dean too stood up and approached his father, though at a much more sedate pace than his younger brother had. An easy grin lit up his face. “Hi, Dad. How’d the hunt go?”
“It went real good, Son. That Black Dog led us a merry chase though, but we got it in the end.”
John paused, trying to put off the inevitable as long as possible. “So what have you guys been up to? Keeping out of mischief I hope!” he continued.
“Not much, just the usual summer chillin’, you know how it is……definitely no mischief though,” replied Dean with a cheeky grin, his green eyes twinkling.
“Hmm…I’m not sure I believe that,” teased John, then he sobered up. “Sorry to leave you guys again so soon when I’ve only just got back, but I’ve gotta go help Caleb with a little werewolf problem at the weekend as the moon will be full then.”
Sam pulled out of his father’s embrace on hearing this, a definite pout marring his young features. “Why do you have to go? Can’t someone else help Caleb?”
“No one else is available, Sammy,” explained John patiently, “and we can’t risk it getting away again ‘cause it could kill or turn more people in the meanwhile.”
“Can I go with you, Dad?” asked Dean excitedly (his first ever supernatural kill had been a werewolf the summer before), “Sam could wait in the car again.”
“Gee thanks, Dean, what a fun way to spend my summer!” put in the thirteen-year-old sarcastically.
John knew that the moment of revelation had finally arrived and mentally prepared himself to drop the bombshell. “No Dean, not this time, I’m sure that you and Sammy will want to spend your last few days here saying goodbye to your friends.”
Sam physically froze and even Dean seemed at a total loss for words before he valiantly recovered himself. “Of course, sir. When are we leaving?”
“The tenth or eleventh, ‘cause Caleb’s hunt should hopefully be resolved by then.”
Sam suddenly found his voice. “You’re not serious?! It’s not fair! We like it here and we don’t wanna move! You can’t keep dragging us all over the country!” he practically yelled.
“Watch your tone, young man!” growled John, “I’m your father, so I can take you wherever I like and you’re right, life isn’t fair. You’ve just got to suck it up and get on with it.”
Sam clenched his hands into fists at his sides. Dean anxiously shook his head at him, trying to get the kid to think before speaking - if he let his emotions do the talking, then Dean knew that this wouldn’t end well.
Sam ignored Dean’s warning and continued, “You’re just selfish! All you care about is revenge! I hate you! You can take your move and shove it where the sun don’t shine!”
John felt genuine anguish at the evident distress that he was causing his youngest, but there was no way that he was prepared to let one of his sons speak to him like that. He reached out and took a firm grip on Sam’s slim wrist, towing him over to the sofa.
Sam, realising that he had crossed the line tried to backpedal quickly. “I’m sorry, Dad, I didn’t mean it…”
John did not reply. He merely seated himself on the sofa and with a firm tug, Sam fell across his lap. He then secured Sam in place by looping his left arm around his waist and raised his right hand.
John wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible, so he spanked hard and fast. Sam squirmed with every swat and a number of muttered “owws” escaped his lips.
Dean turned away, hating seeing his brother getting punished, even though he knew that what the kid had said was not acceptable and that the punishment was fair. He couldn’t block out the sound of the stinging swats though, as they connected painfully with his brother’s jean-clad bottom.
After spanking soundly for a couple of minutes, John spoke. “You never, ever speak to me like that again! I don’t care how angry or upset you are. I’ve taught you to show respect. Is that clear?”
Sam was now sobbing openly. “Y-yes, sir. I’m s-sorry. I won’t d-disrespect you like th-that again.”
John finished the spanking with a final five swats and lifted his youngest from his lap to stand before him.
Sam rubbed his swatted sore behind gingerly, eyes glued to the floor, his tears still flowing freely.
John contemplated his youngest’s downcast demeanour for a moment. When he spoke again, his tone was gentle. “I know it sucks, Sammy, you don’t need to tell me. Don’t you think that I wish more than anything that we could settle down somewhere and have a normal life?”
Sam lifted his eyes slowly, which were sparkling with tears and met his father’s gaze. “Then why can’t we?” he implored, his voice so soft that John could barely make out what he had said.
John met his son’s eyes unwaveringly, but was unable to eliminate the intense pain he was feeling from the depths of his own. This was not the life he wanted for his sons! “You know why, Sammy,” he spoke quietly, “I can’t sit back and do nothing when I know what’s out there. I have to help and stop other families from having to go through what we did!”
The pain that Sam could see clearly shining in his father’s eyes intensified to anguish as he was forced to think indirectly of what had happened to his beloved wife. Sam couldn’t bear to see that expression on his father’s face and flung himself into the man’s arms.
“I’m s-sorry, Dad.” He buried his head into his father’s shoulder his tears leaving wet patches on his shirt. John’s arms circled his baby, returning the hug tightly.
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Dean watched Sam from the table, where he was seated, sharpening and cleaning his favourite hunting knife. The kid looked downright miserable. Sam had been despondent and quiet ever since the shattering revelation that they would be moving. After his initial meltdown, which had resulted in Sam sleeping on his stomach that night, he had been subdued and submissive. Dean was desperate to cheer him up.
“What you doin’, kiddo?” he asked.
“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m reading,” Sam rolled his eyes and held up his book.
“Uh-uh, no you’re not,” Dean shook his head, “I’ve been watching you. You’ve been on that page for over five minutes now.”
“Haven’t you got anything better to do than stare at me?” sighed Sam, putting the book down and turning on the TV. An advert for a local 4th of July event was showing. Sam quickly changed the channel, but it had given Dean an idea.
He picked up the keys for the Impala and shrugged on his jacket.
“Where are you going?”
“It’s a surprise, Squirt. I’ll be back in a bit. Behave yourself while I’m out.”
Sam didn’t deign to reply, not even a snarky comment about the behaving himself - that told Dean volumes about how hard this move was hitting his little brother, it was as if the life had gone out of him.
Dean was determined to distract his baby brother from his misery and give Sam a 4th of July that he would have happy memories of. It was lucky that their father wouldn’t be back for another couple of days, because Dean knew that his cunning plan involved breaking quite a few Winchester rules.
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“Where are we going, Dean?” asked Sam curiously, his eyes showing the first spark of interest in days.
“Wait and see, Sammy. Patience is a virtue you know.”
“But Dean, we’re breaking curfew. You know we’re not allowed out after dark.”
“Technically, I’m the only one breaking curfew, ‘cause you’re allowed out after dark if you’re with me or Dad,”
Sam rolled his eyes at his brother’s logic. Dean hadn’t said a word about where he had gone that afternoon, but had told Sam he couldn’t go to bed that night as he had a surprise for him. He had then bundled the kid into the Impala just before eleven o’clock and had driven from the outskirts of town into the surrounding countryside.
Dean parked the car by an open field. Whatever had once grown there had long since withered and died. With a grin, he climbed out, indicating for Sam to do the same and went round to open the trunk. Dean quickly retrieved the large box of fireworks that he had purchased earlier using his fake ID. It had cost quite a lot of money, but Dean was confident that he could hustle a few games of pool and replace it before his Dad noticed that it was missing.
“What’s that, Dean?” asked Sam, trying to pry open the box.
“Ah-ah, Sammy, these are only for adults to handle, not midgets.”
“Ha ha, Dean, very funny. You’re not an adult either.”
“My ID says I am,” he replied with a smirk, relieved to see that the light that had been extinguished had re-ignited in Sam’s eyes.
“Come, on, Dean…what’s in the box, man?” the kid literally couldn’t keep still in his excitement.
Dean relented and placed the box on the floor so that Sam could get a proper look at what was inside it. His eyes widened as he saw the amount and range of fireworks within.
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Dean watched Sam as he spun around in wonder watching the bursts of colourful sparks exploding in the sky above. Dean had been setting off fireworks for over twenty minutes now (making sure that his baby brother was a safe distance away before igniting each one). Dean was more mesmerised watching Sam than the fireworks themselves. His plan had worked! Sam’s dimples had made an appearance almost immediately and they had yet to falter, as the young boy had been smiling non-stop. Sam’s carefree laugh made Dean laugh himself, even though he had no idea why he was laughing.
Sam had also spontaneously hugged Dean, which for some reason made Dean tear up. Sam had been very openly affectionate when he was younger, but now that he was a teenager, his hugs were slowly becoming more infrequent as the boy became more self-conscious.
On the outskirts of town, John quietly let himself into the dark house. He was glad that Caleb had got an accurate lead on who the werewolf was and that they hadn’t had to wait until the full moon. He was looking forward to spending some unexpected extra time with his boys in a place that had actually become home to all of them.
Realising that the boy’s must both be in bed, he tiptoed up to their room to check on them. His heart stopped momentarily when he spotted the neatly made-up, unslept in beds. With a hunter’s eye he quickly surveyed the room for any signs of a disturbance. Finding none, he rapidly checked over the rest of the house with the same result. On entering the garage and finding the Impala missing, John’s overwhelming fear was replaced with anger. Dean had better have a darn good reason for being out after curfew!
He quickly jumped back into his truck and started her up with the intention of cruising and searching for his misplaced sons.
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Dean watched in horror as the firework that had misfired bounced along the ground, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. The dry plant matter in the field caught ablaze in a matter of seconds.
“Quick, Sam, we’ve gotta get out of here!” He grabbed his brother’s arm and began pulling him back towards the gate and the waiting Impala.
Luckily, they had been standing a safe distance from where the faulty firework had fallen and Dean was confident that they could outrun the fire. What he hadn’t banked on however, was the fire reaching the remaining unlit fireworks in the box and igniting them. The resulting explosion was deafening! Dean reacted instinctively and threw himself on top of Sam in order to shield him with his own body. A rain of fire fell all around them. It was a miracle that they escaped the explosion unscathed. When Dean raised his head however, the seriousness of their situation was immediately apparent. Now, there were numerous fires surrounding them, which were quickly spreading, eating up the dry crop at a phenomenal rate.
John Winchester heard the explosion and immediately turned his truck towards the sound, figuring that someone might be in trouble and need some help. He would resume the search for his sons after checking it out.
“Run, Sammy!” Dean hauled his brother to his feet and practically dragged the kid after him. The fire was closing in all around and Dean was panicked that it would succeed in cutting off their escape route.
John could tell the field was on fire as he turned up the side lane. A moment later he spotted the Impala and for a moment time stopped. John felt like he couldn’t breathe. There was an iron fist around his heart, squeezing the life out of him. No no no no no! He couldn’t lose his boys too! Life wouldn’t be worth living.
Suddenly John caught sight of two familiar figures stumbling out of the field gate and onto the road where the fire could no longer reach them. John drew in a deep, shuddering breath. The next moment his overwhelming relief had turned to cold fury. His boys had obviously nearly gotten themselves killed! What were they doing out in a field in the middle of the night? John intended to find out.
Dean leant against the Impala and gave a shaky laugh. “Well, that was close, kiddo. You okay?”
Sam nodded. “Yeah, you?”
“I’m glad that we’ve ascertained that we’re all fine. But now you’re going to tell me what the hell you’re doing out here!”
Dean physically jumped at hearing his father’s incensed voice. He had been so relieved that they’d made it out alive that he hadn’t noticed the truck that was now parked a few feet away from the Impala.
“D-d-dad?” he stammered.
John suddenly gathered both of his boys in a bone-crushing hug. “If I’d lost you….” he left the rest unspoken as his voice cracked with emotion.
“It’s okay, Dad, we’re alright,” soothed Dean, panicked by the suffering that he could see written on his father’s face.
“You are until I get my hands on you,” he muttered grimly. Dean didn’t like the sound of that.
“Report, Dean. What happened?”
Dean refused to meet his father’s eyes. “None of this is Sammy’s fault. He didn’t know what I’d planned. I just wanted to give him a 4th of july celebration that he’d remember, so I bought some fireworks…”
“I’ve heard enough, Dean.” John stopped him and turned towards his truck. “Get your backsides home now” he barked over his shoulder. On the drive home, he gripped the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles turned white while he deliberated what to do.
What Dean had done was way beyond reckless. He had endangered both his own and his brother’s lives. Not to mention the fact that he had obviously knowingly and willingly broken a large number of family rules. John knew that Dean’s punishment needed to be significant - something that his eldest would never forget. He wracked his brains. Dean’s usual punishment these days was being grounded and was therefore too routine to have a truly lasting impact. An idea surfaced in John’s head and he nodded to himself, convinced that he had found a way to make the impact that was required to teach his eldest the necessary lesson.
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John studied his sons as they stood before him in the sitting room.
“I want you to go up to bed, Sam, while I talk to your brother.”
Sam, convinced that his brother was probably going to be grounded until he was thirty, tried to take some of the blame. “He only did it for me, Dad, and I was there too, so I’m just as guilty.”
“When I’m not here, Sam, Dean’s in charge. Which means that he is held accountable for what happens in my absence. Bed Sam! That’s an order.”
When Sam had complied and gone, albeit reluctantly, upstairs to the bedroom, Dean spoke. “I’m really sorry, Dad, I know I was stupid…”
John raised a hand, cutting him off. “Wait here, I’ve got to fetch something.”
Dean stood in the middle of the room, puzzled. He had expected his Dad to start yelling. A moment later, John returned with a hairbrush in his hand. Dean stared at the object uncomprehendingly.
John moved over to the sofa and sat down. “Come here, Dean.”
Finally the implications filtered through Dean’s shell-shocked brain, but he couldn’t believe or accept the only conclusion that he could come up with
“You can’t spank me, Dad, I’m seventeen!”
John raised his eyebrows. “Can’t I?” he questioned.
“Your jeans are going to need to come down.” John spoke quietly, but it was still an order and Dean never disobeyed direct orders.
Dean fumbled with his button and zip for a moment, before slipping his jeans down and stepping out of them. His cheeks were flushed with embarrassment. Under normal circumstances, he wasn’t at all shy about wandering around in his boxers in front of his Dad or brother, but this was different.
Dean moved hesitantly over to stand in front of his father. “I’m sorry, Dad,” he tried again.
John didn’t reply, he merely reached out and grasped Dean’s wrist, giving it a quick, firm tug to pull the teenager over his lap.
Dean was a lot taller now than he had been the last time that he had found himself in this position, which was when he had been fourteen. John was careful to position him as comfortably as possible. By shifting sideways slightly, John was able to arrange it so that most of his son’s torso was resting on the sofa.
John slid one arm around Dean’s waist to hold him in position and picked up the hairbrush. He brought it down sharply with a flick of his wrist. *SMACK*
Dean had expected the hairbrush to hurt more than his father’s hand, but was totally unprepared for the intensity of pain which blossomed across his left butt-cheek. A yelp escaped his lips before he could stop it and he involuntarily arched his back in a subconscious attempt to stand up and escape. John pushed him back down firmly, before applying a mirroring swat to his other cheek. This time, he was expecting it and Dean gritted his teeth, biting the inside of his cheek to keep himself from crying out. He also had to actively concentrate on keeping himself in place. Dean was determined to keep quiet no matter how painful the ordeal, because there was no way he wanted Sammy to know about this and if the kid heard anything out of the ordinary, he would definitely come down to investigate.
John settled into a steady rhythm, spanking alternate spots until he had completed an entire circuit of Dean’s backside, including his sensitive sit spots and the tops of his thighs. He then began the process again, adding another layer of swats over the already tenderised skin. As the first swat landed on top of a previous one, Dean instinctively reached his hand back in an attempt to protect his rear from further assault. John paused in his spanking, not wanting to accidentally catch Dean’s fingers. Again, his order was soft-spoken: “Hand, Dean” and Dean had immediately understood.
Dean hesitated. “Please, Dad, I know I was wrong. Please…”
“All of our actions have consequences, Dean, and I’m afraid we’re not done here yet.”
The teen took a deep breath and slipped the offending hand under him, intentionally trapping it between his stomach and John’s thighs.
Up in the bedroom, Sam was puzzled - he had expected to hear his father yelling by now. Granted, his and Dean’s bedroom was at the furthest end of the house, so maybe that was why he couldn’t hear it? Sam was really moved by the lengths that his brother had gone to in order to make him feel better. He hoped that Dean didn’t get into too much trouble. Sam’s curiosity finally got the better of him and he slipped silently out of the bedroom. As Sam quietly made his way downstairs he paused suddenly - he had heard a sound that he couldn’t quite place. There, there it was again - the sound of something striking something else.
Sam peeked around the doorframe. His Dad was using a hairbrush to spank Dean and not his hand - spanking with his hand usually made a sharp, resounding sound…the sound of the brush was duller, more muffled and yet still succeeded in sounding way more painful.
Sam watched the scene before him in horror. Dean was obviously in pain - he had his head buried in the crook of his elbow, but was still managing to white-knuckle the cushion. Even though Dean was doing his utmost to stay in position, it was impossible for him to keep completely still and was tensing or squirming a little with every smack. Add to this the fact that though he was not aware of it, his feet were kicking slightly with each blow.
Tears began to run down Sam’s cheeks. It was his fault that Dean was being punished, his brother had only done it to cheer him up! Sam felt the injustice of it weighing heavily on him. There was nothing he could do to change his brother’s fate. If John Winchester felt that a spanking was what his eldest deserved, then a spanking he would get, in spite of anything that Sam could or would say in his defence. Sam knew better than to charge in there and make his presence known - Dean would be mortified if he ever found out that Sam had witnessed this. Sam had no doubts whatsoever that Dean would do everything in his power to conceal this from him, knowing that Sam would feel bad and blame himself. Sam fled quietly back up to bed and buried his head in his pillow, trying to halt his tears before his brother came up.
Downstairs, Dean knew he couldn’t hold out much longer. As it was, he was sure he wouldn’t be able to sit down for at least a week, but if his Dad didn’t stop soon, he’d also be bawling like a baby.
John sighed inwardly. Why did his eldest insist on being so stoic and stubborn? John worried about Dean - he knew the boy bottled all his emotions up inside him. When he was younger, John had realised that whenever Dean was spanked, it served not only as a punishment for the misdeed, but also as a safety release valve for all his pent up emotions. It kept the kid on an even keel, preventing him from exploding or breaking down. Since the last spanking when he was fourteen, Dean had benefited from no such release.
As the hairbrush began a third circuit of his now blazing red backside, Dean finally cracked. He could no longer hold back the tears. John was acutely aware of the moment that his son broke, but knew that if he stopped immediately, Dean might just have the sheer willpower to rein all his emotions back in, so he forced himself to complete the third circuit. By the time he finally halted, Dean’s silent tears had been replaced by harsh sobs.
John rested the hairbrush, ready to wield again if necessary, on Dean’s backside. He could feel the heat radiating through his son’s boxers.
“Why did I have to punish you, Dean?” he asked quietly.
Dean drew in a shaky breath before answering. The pain in his rear was excruciating and the weight of the brush resting on his freshly spanked behind was decidedly uncomfortable, but at least no additional swats were falling.
“I b-broke curfew and w-went outside after dark without p-p-permission.”
“Is that all?” John just wanted to get this part over with. He ached to hold his son in his arms and wipe away the hurts and the tears, but he had to make sure first that Dean understood fully what he had done wrong and why he had been disciplined.
“No, s-sir. I used m-m-my fake ID f-for personal gain. I b-bought fireworks. I b-b-burned down someone’s f-field and it could h-have been a l-lot worse if the f-fire had got out of c-control and spread to other fields.”
John nodded, although Dean couldn’t see him. “And what about the possible repercussions of your choices to you and your brother?” John knew without a doubt that this would affect his eldest the most.
“Sam c-could have b-b-b-been….” Dean’s sobs intensified and he was unable to continue, as the overwhelming fear that he had felt for his little brother when the fire had nearly caught up with them washed over him once again.
It hadn’t escaped John’s notice that Dean’s concern was for Sam’s safety only and not his own, but decided to let it go and not comment, knowing that Dean had learnt from this. “Sam could have what?” he prompted, moving the hand that wasn’t holding the hairbrush, to rest reassuringly on Dean’s lower back.
“S-sammy could have b-b-een k-k-k-killed,” Dean managed to finally get it out.
“I think you’ve learned your lesson. Just a final little reminder…”
Dean felt the brush lift from his burning backside and automatically tensed. John delivered a final five hard smacks with the brush, before setting it down.
“It’s all over now, kiddo,” he murmured.
Dean continued to sob brokenly, making no attempt to move from the humiliating position. Dean had no doubt that he deserved this - the thought of what could have happened to his baby brother fuelled his sobs.
John let him cry for a few minutes longer, knowing that Dean needed the catharsis that this would provide. Then he gently lifted the boy so that he was sitting on his lap, ensuring that his abused rear rested between his knees and wrapped his arms around him.
Dean snuggled into his father’s chest, craving the comfort and security that he provided as he slowly mastered his tears.
“You’re okay, Dean,” soothed John, dropping a gentle kiss on his son’s forehead.
Dean gave a shaky laugh, before extricating himself gently from his father’ lap. “The rest of me might be okay, but my butt sure isn’t.”
He gave his father another quick hug before going up to get ready for bed. He washed his face first, desperate to hide the fact that he had been crying in case Sam was still awake. Then he rummaged in the clean laundry basket to find a clean pair of sweats - he hadn’t been able to face the idea of pulling the rough denim of his jeans back up over his roasted skin - aware that if he walked into the bedroom in just his boxers and a t-shirt his brother would know for sure that something was up.
As soon as he entered the bedroom, Dean caught the muffled sniff. Immediately, his protective big brother senses were on high alert - his little brother was crying.
“Hey, Sammy? What’s wrong?”
Sam deliberated quickly. He didn’t want to embarrass his brother. “I’m just sad about leaving Dean. I’m really gonna miss Mike and Neil and Pete,” he lied.
“I know, kiddo, but you’ll soon make new friends, trust me,” soothed Dean, reaching out and carding his fingers through Sam’s bangs.
Sam was relieved to see that Dean seemed okay, Yeah, sure, it was totally obvious to him that his older brother had been crying, but other than that, Dean seemed to be his usual overprotective self.
“You sure you’re really okay, Sammy?”
Sam nodded. “Dean? I didn’t get a chance before, but I wanted to thank you for the fireworks. You’re the best big brother ever!”
“Thanks, kid, you’re not such a bad little brother either,” he teased, moving over to his own bed and climbing in, careful to lie down on his stomach.