Words
Disclaimer: I don't own anything from Supernatural, and I'm not making any money from this fic
Summary: Sam and Dean have an argument, which ends in Sam saying some pretty mean things to his brother before leaving to go to Stanford. When Dean suddenly shows up again, Sam can't help feeling guilty that the last thing he said to his brother before leaving was, "I hate you."
Warning(s): Spanking; spoilers for the first episode of Supernatural; some swearing
Author's Note: Thank you for everyone's reviews for my fics so far. I hope you all enjoy this. It's not intended to be very long
"Sammy… Do you really have to leave?" Dean asked as he stood in the doorway of his little brother's room, watching as Sam flung everything he owned – which wasn't a great deal – into a holdall.
"You heard what Dad said," Sam replied without even looking up at Dean. "He told me to get out. So that's what I'm doing." The argument had been a blistering one, with both Sam and John saying some pretty horrible things to each other. It had ended with John storming out of the house, and Sam storming upstairs to pack.
"He didn't mean it," Dean replied, trying to keep the pleading note out of his voice. "You don't have to leave, Sammy."
"It's Sam," Sam corrected, grabbing his bag off the bed. "And of course you don't want me to leave. You're the perfect son, the one who always follows orders. Even if you wanted to leave, you never would. You're the perfect soldier. Well, I'm sorry, but I'm not a soldier, and I never will be."
Dean blinked, taken aback and almost hurt by what Sam was saying – not that he would ever admit that out loud. "Don't make this about me, Sam. You're the one running away."
"I want a normal life!" Sam snapped. "According to you and Dad, that makes me weird. Like constantly looking for the thing that killed mom isn't. Do you have any idea how many times I had to refuse sleepovers and things like that because we had to hunt?!" Sam stalked over to the door, and stopped in front of his brother. "Move out of the way."
"No." Dean spoke softly but firmly. "You're gonna stay here until Dad gets back. Then, we're gonna sit down and talk about this – as a family. So just, you know – sit down and calm down."
The punch that rocked Dean's head back took him by surprise, and for a moment, all he saw were spinning stars. He wasn't so out of it that he wasn't thinking, though, and as Sam tried to push past him, Dean slammed him back against the wall.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?!"
Dean could tell that his brother was spoiling for a fight. Sam struggled in Dean's iron grip, throwing spiteful and hateful things into his face. With each insult, Dean became angrier and angrier, until finally he kicked Sam's feet out from under him and got his brother in a headlock.
Ignoring Sam's struggles, Dean raised his free hand, and brought it down hard on his brother's jean-clad bottom six times. Instead of calming him down, though, Sam simply renewed his struggles, yelling out more insults, until finally, the one unforgivable thing he could say left his lips.
"I hate you!"
Stunned, Dean released his brother, and stumbled back a few paces. Sam straightened up, and wiped his sleeve angrily across his face. He then grabbed his bag, and all but ran out of the room.
A moment later, Dean heard the front door slam.
Sam couldn't help thinking of that argument as he sat in the passenger seat beside his brother, driving to try and find their father. That had been playing on his mind since Dean had come to find him, and Sam felt terribly guilty.
"All right… So first stop is the crime scene where they found Troy's car," Dean commented over the music. "We'd better make sure we complete the job, and don't leave a stone unturned if we want to find Dad."
"Yeah, because you always complete a job," Sam muttered, unable to help a slightly bitter tone to his voice.
Dean cast a sideways glance at his brother. "There something you wanna say to me?"
"Yeah." Sam grimaced, hardly able to believe he was about to ask that question. But that overwhelming guilt had stayed with him for four years, and seeing Dean again had brought it all back to the surface. "Why'd you stop?" he asked, trusting Dean to know what he was talking about.
Dean simply looked surprised for a moment. Then, he glanced away and shrugged. "It wasn't helping."
"Because I was too old?" Sam suggested.
"Partly." Dean refused to look at his brother.
He should have continued, Sam thought, biting his lip, looking at his brother out of the corner of his eye. If he regretted anything about walking out on his family, it was leaving Dean. Oh, and punching him. Not to mention telling him that he hated him.
Aw, hell… I feel bad about all of it.
Before he could change his mind, Sam looked at Dean. "Pull over."
Dean directed a look of disbelief at Sam. "What?"
"Pull over," Sam repeated. "We need to talk." I can hardly believe I'm even doing this… But after what happened, I guess this way will be the only way to make me feel better – and let Dean get rid of the anger I know he must feel towards me. Sam noticed that Dean was doing what he wanted, and that just made him feel even worse, if possible.
Dean parked the car in one of the lay-bys on the side of the road, and turned to his brother. "What is it?" he asked.
Sam hesitated, not totally sure that he wanted to go through with this. But then, he remembered the look of hurt on Dean's face as he said he hated him, and was suddenly sure of it. "You have to continue," he said.
Dean frowned, looking confused for a moment. Then, he shook his head. "No," he replied.
"Why not?" Sam demanded. "You might not ever admit it, Dean, but I know it hurt you when I said I hated you."
"It didn't hurt me," Dean replied. "You were angry. I get it. And it's been four years, dude. You should be over it by now. I am."
Sam didn't believe that for a second, but chose not to comment. Instead, he said, "Well, I'm not over it. It's like a wound that's been festering for four years. I feel really bad about what I said and did, and the only way to make things right is for you to punish me – to finish what you started."
Dean shook his head slightly, but more in disbelief than outright refusal. "You're kidding, right? You'd never willingly ask for… that."
"You're my brother, Dean," Sam replied. "Doesn't it make you mad that I broke contact with you for four years? That I swore at you, punched you, and told you that I hated you?"
Dean hit the steering wheel, and then turned to Sam. "If you're really serious about this, get your jeans down."
Sam blinked, and glanced around. "Here?" he questioned, suddenly unsure.
Dean looked hard at his brother. "Something wrong? It's dark out, it's not like there are many people around. So – jeans down, and then you can just get over my knees." From the look on his face, it was pretty clear he didn't expect Sam to obey.
Sam bit his lip, and lowered his head as he unclasped his jeans, and then leaned forward over his brother's lap, biting his lip slightly as he felt Dean ease his underwear down to just below his knees.
I really hope no one happens to come by…
There was a moment's pause, and Sam simply felt awkward lying with his bottom bared over Dean's lap. Then, his body jerked slightly as he felt the first hard smack against bare skin. Before he could catch his breath, more hard smacks were rained down.
After a couple of minutes of hard spanking, Sam found that there were tears slipping out of his eyes. Soon after that, the hard, repetitive smacks caused him to start sobbing. Even as he did, though, he felt somehow lighter, freer… Like the guilt was simply drifting away from him. His bottom was sore, but his heart no longer hurt.
Finally, Dean stopped, and just rubbed circles on his brother's back with the hand he had just used to punish Sam. When Sam's crying had finally slowed, Dean helped him to straighten up again, and Sam pulled his underwear and jeans back up with a wince, wiping at his eyes.
"I'm sorry…"
Dean squeezed Sam's shoulder lightly in silent forgiveness, and then put the car back into gear. "Let's get back to work, Sammy."
"It's Sam," Sam corrected, putting his seatbelt back on. He felt surprisingly relaxed and at ease now.
"Whatever." Dean turned the music on as they went down the motorway.