spankedbyspike: (SbS)
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Title: Crime and Spanking
Author: Spanked by Spike [ profile] spankedbyspike
Fandom: Supernatural End of Season 4 – Missing scene - PG13
Characters: Dean and Sam Winchesters, sibling relationship
Implement: Hand, Hairbrush, Belt
Prompt Words for the Team Chalenge at [ profile] spn_spankings: Betrayal, Resolutions, Crime and Punishment, Truth(s) and Lie(s), Epiphany
Words: 4405
A Special Thank You for the perfect Illustrations prepared for this story by the enchanting [ profile] jj1564 who found the time to help in her busy schedule: you rock!
Summary: Ruby has created quite the wedge between the two brothers and finally when she is killed it gives the opportunity to Dean and Sam to figure how to fix their strained relationship.
Author’s Notes: This particular story contains a consensual spanking between two sibling adults and is not wincest oriented. (all comments are welcome and appreciated of course)

Dean was not a leader, not in the way his father was, not in the way he thinks Grandpa Campbell managed his family, or Bobby and Rufus were. There was something very simple in the way he approached his life; live and let live. He didn’t care what other people were doing, when they were doing it and why. He had one purpose in life, to hunt monsters and certify to the masses they would not be causing any more trouble by the time he left town.

Until the Benders, his focus had been on monsters of the supernatural kind, the possessed bodies, the lost witches, the ghosts and spirits…his father had taught them well. Research was paramount, but it was equaled by skills on the field. You needed to develop a sixth sense, learn when to trust your instincts, be quick on your feet, powerful in your hit and smarter than your opponent. Dean Winchester couldn’t claim he was the best at this, but he had experience and most importantly he had a backup very few Hunters had, almost a twin in the way he fought and understood the things that went bump in the night: his brother.

Dean would be the first one to recognize his own weaknesses; he wasn’t a patient man, he wasn’t the best one at reporting on his fights for future generations to learn from, and he wasn’t even the best researcher he knew. He was lucky, or at least had been.

Except now, he was in the middle of a clusterfuck he could never have imagined. His worst nightmares didn’t even compare to what had been his everyday life lately. He’d been abandoned in a chaotic world without his anchor, trampled by life, discarded by his brother, everything that he was, everything that he represented suddenly becoming obsolete, maybe even the cause of a cataclysmic change in the world order as humanity knew it.

Sweat beaded on his temples, worry lines creasing his young face, hands crumpling his olive t-shirt and Dean closed his eyes trying to figure out a way out of his predicament. He had always hated lies. Could have been because of all the troubles and spankings it earned him growing up…

Now though, every interaction he had with his only living family member were laced in fated lies, tarnishing any hope to resolve the situation, living behind the sour taste of betrayal on everything he did or even envisioned doing. It sucked big time, it fucking sucked balls!

Nevertheless, Dean was a do-er and a be-er, yeah he was making up words, but he couldn’t shake who he was. Deep down, Sammy should realize that his big brother was a simple man, who only wanted one thing, peaceful hunts with his bro. Okay, peaceful was a stretch… but he hasn’t been as happy in his crappy life in ages. Sharing these adventures with his sibling had been like a gift from the gods, if they existed…

Now he knows though… Gods or God and his legions of Angels, Archangels and Demons are dicks! Sure, it’s the kind of thinking that got him in trouble with Zachariah, and if it hadn’t been for Castiel saving him from incessant torture that he didn’t want to remember, he would have scratched them one by one and put them all in the same bucket: the destroy and forget one.

The point was, he didn’t know what the truth was, and if his reality was the truth with capital T, he didn’t want to live in it. That’s when the doer in him kicked in, the epiphany clear as day. Dean would fight against everyone, including his own brother, to set things right per the Winchester gospel and that started by removing the one obstacle to getting his ducks in a row…

So, resolution number one: get rid of Ruby. Resolution number two: show Sammy that the only way out of this mess was together, against the whole wide world!

*** And Lucifer rising happened ***

They had been knocked out, the universe suddenly drowning in darkness, in silence, in a void… And as their ears stopped ringing, their eye sight adjusting, their hearts returning to their regular beat, they finally turned, looking at each other, letting their hands fly to check for any injuries.

It was an impulsive response to the stress, the incredible conclusion of the Ruby episode in their lives.

They stumbled into Dean’s hotel room; the one Sam had picked was farther and they just were too wired up to drive much. The door banged open because there was no measure left in Dean’s movement. He was amazed they pulled this off. No more Ruby, no more poisonous snake whispering half-truths and full on lies into his brother ears, and a cowed Sammy back at his side. It was just plain incredible.

He plopped on the bed and then stood again. Reached into the room’s small fridge and grabbed the last beer sitting there. Opening it without thinking, he took a long sip before handing it to his brother. Sam took the bottle but stopped short of drinking. It was hanging between his long fingers and he seemed hesitant.

He started “Uh Dean…” couldn’t continue, seemed to gather some courage and started again, “I’m sorry Dean”.

Dean looked at him from his lounging position on the bed closest to the door, eyes squinting as if trying to figure out what was going on or maybe he was just exhausted… “I don’t know, Sam. Sorry for what?” he drawled, flopping on his back and letting his arm cover his face.

“Dean, don’t be like this… You know…” Sam sat dejected on the other bed, looking at the brother he had barely seen while he was consumed with Ruby and his new found quest.

Dean stayed silent, having learned a long time ago from his father that it could certainly give opportunities for the culprit to set up the noose that can be used to hang him. Plus, there wasn’t much he could say at this time. He’d been humiliated, discarded, forgotten and hated by the one person most important to him. It just had been such an uphill battle; he didn’t even know what the appropriate response was. Saying 'it was nothing' was simply too insulting, saying that 'it will take time to repair the trust that was so carelessly broken' was stupid, it’s not like there was another person he could turn to, hunt with, try to fix the supernatural problems that they’ve been grappling with. Dean couldn’t figure out how to repair their relationship. He just knew it has to happen!

“Dean, talk to me!” Sammy added in a whisper, also laid on the bed covers.

“Sammy, I’m at a loss. I am so fucking angry, but at the same time high on the fact that you are here with me. That it’s over. I want to beat the crap out of you, I want to hug you till you melt into me, I want you to really regret what happened and I want to feel like I matter to you. Sadly, all of this makes it the ultimate chick flick moment and I just don’t do those. So, let’s see tomorrow how things go, let me figure out what one step will be, maybe you can then pick up the pieces and suggest what the next step will be, and somehow, we will be the Winchesters’ brothers again, on the road…” Dean was done; he turned on his side and kicked his shoes out, thumping loudly on the floor. He listened to his brother standing and getting ready for the night in the adjoining bathroom. Somehow the sound of the shower running lulled him into sleep.

Tomorrow was going to be a better day, a brighter one, hopefully.

*** Life… Happens ***                                                                      

They had slept, and slept some more; by the time they made it to the restaurant downstairs, the dinner crowd was there. Sam, for once ravenous, went after the burger, stole some of Dean’s fries, and finished with an apple pie slice. Dean couldn’t be prouder! They even joked a bit, commented on the smile of the waitress, somehow found a path forward. Until a few beers later, they made it back to the room and Dean resumed the almost forgotten conversation from the previous night.

“How could you Sam?”

“Dean, I truly believed I had it covered. I thought I was right and that you were too stubborn to realize it.”

Dean sputtered, “I’m stubborn? I was right, bitch!”

Sam crowded his brother: “Well it didn’t seem like it at the time, jerk.”

“Boy, you’re lucky you grew up, because right now my hand is itching to give you the spanking you deserve, you little shit.” Dean seized his brother’s shirt and started to shove him towards his unmade bed. “I’ve always seen the smart kid in you, the one that should have my back, and here you were cavorting with the freaking enemy; jeez, you deserve the spanking of your life!” and with that declaration he shoved Sammy on the bed, turning around and pacing the room.

Sam was trying to right his clothes… “Huh, Dean, if it makes you feel better, I’d like to do penance… Just tell me what you want, I owe you that.”

Dean faced his seated brother. “You don’t owe me shit, Sammy. It’s just so infuriating and it’s not like I’m feeling in charge here. I am tired of always getting anywhere too late, of being a pawn in demons’ evil plans, of knowing you don’t really trust my gut instinct…”

Sam dropped his head, he could understand how he felt, and it was a bit of that feeling of powerlessness that sent him on his destructive path with Ruby. He knew that frustration, that sense of disconnect and he had entertained the idea that his actions were for the best, but he too knew better.

He looked up and grabbed the sleeve of his agitated brother. “Dean, I get it. Like you, I feel out of control. I’d like to tell you I’m sorry but it’s bigger than that. It’s an unease that’s swallowing me alive and I just don’t know what to do.”

It was the puppy eyed gaze that did it. Suddenly, Dean remembered all these times growing up when his brother was ‘fessing up’ to his misdeeds, always much faster than Dean was to face his. There was something so simple to their lives in those days, even discipline was easy. You did something wrong, you paid the piper, you were forgiven and it was over.

It seems like both the brothers longed for something that simple, for a path forward from the mess their relationship was currently in.

“Okay Sammy, let’s talk about this. What will be penance for you?”

Sam thought about the question, “I’m not sure Dean, but it has to feel big enough for an atonement, enough to erase that divide between us.”
“I get that Sammy, I just want no more lies between us.” Dean dropped next to his little brother, bumping his shoulder and letting a small smile soften his features. “I missed you, Sammy.”

Sam whispered, “You can’t do that Dean… You can’t diffuse the situation with a few well-meaning words and then let it fester and make it even worse between ourselves. This time… this time, you were right, and I was somehow wrong, and it may be stupid to ask for this but you can maybe find it in you to discipline me? So, I can forgive myself? Stop imagining the worse? Move on from regretting the paths we took? More importantly prevent fears and disagreements from tearing us apart.” Sam took a breath and continued with a bit more force in his voice, “whatever you think will be appropriate, I promise to stand by you and accept it, and at this point in my life, I need it.”

“Man, I’m too wasted tonight to deal with this shit!” Dean grumbled. “Let’s go to bed and don’t plan on anything for tomorrow then…” The decision had been made and he slowly rose to his feet, ready to settle for the night.

*** If these walls could talk ***

Sam was already awake when Dean stirred. He had cleaned up the room, and was just coming back from his shower, a towel through his wet strands and a pair of jeans riding low on his hips.

“Morning, d’you want me to go grab some coffee or wait for you to get ready before we go get something?” Sam asked casually, as if the conversation from yesterday had never occurred. Dean yawned, stretched and threw the covers to the floor. “Nah, we have a matter to attend first.” He added before scratching a path on the warm skin of his shoulder.

“Why don’t you drop the towel on that chair and go stand in that corner there?” Dean voice was scratchy from sleep but bore no argument. There was no point in asking Sam to reflect on his misdeed, his brother was as aware of it as possible but, it was great to get them both in the mood of things.

Brushing his teeth, Dean started cataloguing every item around, trying to figure out what to use to discipline his little brother; it needed to set up the kind of punishment that fit the crime, and as he finished, he picked up Sam’s hair brush, it was sad it had a plastic back instead of the heavy wooden ones they grew up with – probably some negative associations from Pa Winchester’s mighty spankings…

Getting back to the main room, he also grabbed the copy of the newspaper lying on the table and rolled it. Heading towards his brother, he hit him with the newspaper square on the jean clad bottom “Don’t lean on the wall, Sammy, you know better!” And with that he added a few more slaps from the rolled paper. The thuds were heavy but nothing overwhelming. Sam squirmed a bit as it warmed him up and managed to suddenly remind him, why no one in the history of forever would ever volunteer for a freaking ass whipping from a Winchester.

The slight fidgeting actually emboldened Dean and he shoved his foot between his Sammy’s legs and helped him widen his stance, making a better target of his bottom. They were close to each other so instead of swinging his arm to spank, he instead used his wrists to make sharp hits up and down, managing to make it sting on the top part of the buttocks that really got touched and lifted the underside that wasn’t prepped either. Perfect to keep his strong little brother on his best behavior!

Satisfied with the impact he had, Dean dropped the newspaper on the floor and went to rummage in his duffel to decide how to get dressed for the day. He took his time to select a dark blue pair of jeans, a green t-shirt and a blue-green plaid. Feeling comfortable in his own skin, the elder Winchester finally brought one of the table chairs to the middle of the room and beckoned Sam to come to him. Gracefully, the young man pushed himself on the balls of his feet and slowly walked towards the spot to the right of Dean.

“You are tall enough that this will be uncomfortable, but again, the point of the exercise in not to make it easy or unpleasant, but to make you feel it, to your bones.” Dean was eager to complete the discipline session now that it had started. “Front and center, Sam.” His hands grabbed both sides of the unbuttoned jeans and lowered them to the knees, letting them pool there and restrain his tall brother, just in case things became too intense. That done, he pointed to the floor and Sam tried to settle on his knees; it took a moment and he ended up stretched with his tip toes pointed to compensate for his height. Dean put his left arm on the corded back on his lap and widened his stance a little to carry the weight of Sam easily. The position left Sammy’s boxer-clad behind at the perfect height and position to be warmed up, and Dean didn’t much wait before starting a round. He didn’t fully apply himself yet, using mostly his fingertips to slap at the farthest cheek from top to bottom. He’d learned over the years how annoying that was, as you kept wondering when the other cheek will be spanked or when the fuck the real spanking would start, the one that hurts...

Still Dean was clear on his mission, this was his show, and he’ll play anyway he wanted to, it’d serve Sam well to let it play out, instead of finding his inner crabby self and starting to complain or try to fight back.

So, he enjoyed himself, put a little more gusto into one slap, smoothed the next one, tip-toed on the third, and all along Sam was fidgeting. The next round was more sustained in strength even though it only covered the outskirts of Sam’s bottom, stinging more because it had been ages since either of them had been spanked, and even then, a paddle squarely applied to your seat of knowledge wasn’t the type of implement that was making much of an impression on the whole of your behind.

Sam had been slapped on the same spot for a few times now and was both annoyed and starting to feel the hurt, so he kicked his legs, trying to both find a better purchase and discretely hastening the proceedings…

It worked. “Will you stop Sammy? We haven’t even started!” Still, Dean picked up the rhythm, using the flat of his hand to lift the buttocks or slam them, making sure that his little brother had something to be belligerent about. Ten slaps in, he stopped. The sting in his hand started to be noticeable, so he assumed, Sam was feeling it too. “You know little brother, I don’t believe anyone matters to me the way you do. And kicking me to the curb the way you did, I hated it, with a passion. I can assure you, that your punishment is going to fit the crime!” Dean said gritting his teeth, as he picked the hairbrush and started hitting the blank canvas of his brother thighs with the plastic side. Left, right, left, right, left and right, and even more lefts and rights, until the skin turned pink and then reddish, until the oval splotches that had the skin turn white on impact and pink as he paused, created this beautiful hue of red that talked of lessons imparted and well learned. It was satisfying to see how easy it was to assess the progress they were making. Sam was shifting on his lap, trying to be subtle but just as easily gave it away…he was feeling it, sniffling as discretely as possible, and Dean was ecstatic.

He folded over his brother, and reached out to the pants restraining much of the movements Sammy was inclined to make, to pull the leather belt out of the loops. It took too long, and it was awkward but now he was armed with something that would certainly hasten the ‘amend’ part.

Dean didn’t plan - nor had it in him - to be brutal with his brother, but Sam was a big guy, toughened by his upbringing and the hard-core sport regimen he was on. He, nevertheless, wanted to rectify the direction they had taken; they both needed to tweak their thought pattern, and to adjust to living together with different mindsets and desires, with different new experiences coloring their views of the world, while dedicating their lives to save others. It was a very simple plan of action, and he intended it to be a shining beacon of light they could follow with no hindrances.

The belt was now folded in two, and appeared quite long and wide in Dean’s hand. Obviously, it wouldn’t take much to focus his brother attention on the punishment. He smiled and landed the first smack on the upturned bottom, and as he heard the oomph escaping his brother, he adjusted the strength of the next one by raising his hand slightly higher, which got him a “fuck” and brought a smile to his lips, now that he knew he was doing it right!

“Sam, stop complaining, we’ve barely started.” He admonished and went for the next blow. Dean had in mind a good twenty lashes but wasn’t planning on letting his young brother know. The uncertainty could only help drive the point home even better. He felt empowered as he landed the next strike, feeling the corresponding quivering of the abused flesh and pausing for a moment to let them both catch their breath.

Dean shortened the belt in his grip, so it wouldn’t hit Sam on the sides or wrap too far out and hurt him in a way not intended, before resuming the punishment session. The following couple of smacks was aimed at the seat spots and only garnered a few grunts; he persisted though and added four more on top of each other. The spanking was half way through and Dean explored with his rough fingers the welts that were appearing at the edge of the wrinkled boxer shorts. It must have been on the harsh side of things as Sam twitched and tried to escape the touch. Stabilizing him by the waist, Dean resumed the spanking with mighty smacks that went from the top of his behind to the thighs, and the squirming did increase.

Ready for his last round, Sam was asked if he still thought he deserved this disciplining, and with a wet voice he replied, “Of course Dean, I messed up and I asked for this, stop dicking around and do your job, jerk!” Snorting with laughter Dean dropped the belt and just randomly started walloping the proffered ass on his lap. Poor Sammy must have been tenderized because the room was starting to fill with grunts and small whimpers. Nothing he’d be ashamed of later but Dean persevered until his brother’s jolts became too big to ignore.

 “Would you be quiet and take your punishment like a man, Sammy?” Dean exclaimed.

“It’s…it’s easy… for… for you to say…  you’re not the one… the one getting his ass roasted!” Sam managed to reply before trying to quickly wipe the few tears at the corner of his eyes that his sheer will couldn’t stop from leaking.

Dean retrieved the belt from the floor at his side, intent on completing the thrashing they were engaged in. “Right, lil bro. Let’s conclude this party then, and I want you to count the next smacks, okay?” And with that Sam felt the thwack on his sore butt bringing new pain to the spanked area and making him completely forget to count out loud. His brother didn’t care and dissed his forgetfulness, but right before he managed the second spank he could hear the “One, Sir” he’d expected. Slowly going down on his target spot, Dean took the time to let the hurt spread and the chastised boy add his youthful “Two, Sir” before continuing to the third whack. There were so few left that he wanted to make sure they mattered, and therefore waited patiently for the call out to continue. By the fifth belt strike, Sam’s voice was raw sounding and Dean’s arm ached, but the experience had gone down as well as they could have expected.

Sammy was prone, supported only by his brother as his muscles strained to regain their impetus. His whole body was trembling, even though no sobs or cries could be heard. Dean stroked his back slowly, murmuring nonsense and praises alike to his Sammy, knowing that he probably couldn’t really understand the words but would recognize the familiar devotion he always had received from his older brother.

Minutes later, Dean helped him stand up, his legs cramping under the weight and encompassing Sam in a meaningful hug. They both held on to each other, shocked by the strength of the emotions they both could identify, and happy that something as personal and humiliating as this punishment was able to get them back to a good place in their relationship.

Finally, Sam took a step back, grimacing as the inflamed flesh of his behind and thighs reminded him of the painful ordeal, and Dean quickly suggested that he lay down while he brought him a bottle of water and some painkillers. He made a big deal of refusing to take those, disposed to feel and appreciate his discipline, no matter how long the discomfort lasts.

He managed to shove his pants away before settling back on his bed, stretching a bit and impressed by the lingering aches that seems to have overtaken much of his body. His shoulders had been tense, his back cracked as he found a better position and of course his backside felt hot to the touch, his skin rough, his muscles still twitching from the residual throbbing.
He wanted to rub the soreness away, to feel some ice packs cooling his bottom and thighs, even a drink to dull the pain, but he also felt satisfied in a way nothing else could have. This was not just discipline though; it was also an act of love, that gave him his brother back, that showed him, he mattered and even more, something that stated clearly that this chapter of their lives was over and the future will be lived side by side, no matter the challenges awaiting them...

Hearing his soft whine while trying to find the perfect spot on the bed, the older Winchester was tempted to insist on some water at least but thinking better of it, Dean, instead, closed the curtains, only leaving the small light from the bathroom on and went to pick them some pancakes, encouraging Sammy to take a little nap while he was gone.  Dean hid a bubbling laugh behind a coughing fit as it brought back animated memories of their younger selves growing up and getting corrections they weren’t quite so keen on receiving.

The End.

Sorry for any mistakes, I haven't written anything big in ages but I hope you can still enjoy this, SbS :)
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