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Standing outside at one o’clock on Christmas morning- in weather cold enough he could see his own breath - had not been part of Dean’s plan. Much less in the parking lot of another shitty motel, examining his severely scratched car beneath the flickering glow of cheap Christmas lights.
The nightmare began over an hour earlier, when he woke up to find his younger brother’s bed empty, and his beloved car missing. After several unanswered phone calls and plenty of pacing, the familiar and welcome roar of the Impala’s engine found Dean’s ears.
The nineteen year old quickly stepped outside the gloomy hotel room to see the vehicle rolling to a stop, none other than his fifteen year old brother sitting behind the wheel.
Sam, who didn’t even have the decency to look guilty- opened the car door, revealing a large, deep gouge in the glossy paint. Dean pushed the thought of the damaged door away, too preoccupied with carefully examining Sam and making sure he was alright. The car would be much easier to fix up than an injured little brother. Not to mention John would have gone nuclear if something happened to Sam on Dean’s watch.
After assessing that the boy wasn’t hurt, Dean shot a furious glare in Sam’s direction, demanding that he make some adequate excuse for stealing the Impala in the first place, much less scratching the precious vehicle.
“Well, Sam? You want to tell me why my car is screwed up?” He growled. “Or better yet, tell me why you were driving it around in the middle of the night with no license?”
Sam said nothing. He had resigned himself to the fact that Dean was going to be angry, but he didn’t regret taking the car. Leaving the key in the ignition, he slid out of the driver’s seat and stalked into the motel room, ignoring his brother’s interrogation.
Dean snatched his keys out of the Impala, pocketing them and shutting the car door before trailing after Sam. Once he stepped into their motel room and locked the door, he began questioning his brother again.
“Hey, are you deaf? I asked you a question, Sammy. What the hell were you doing?”
Sam sat on his bed, untying his shoes and setting them aside. He was tired, and now he just wanted to go to sleep. It had been a good night, and he preferred not to have what was left of it ruined by his overprotective brother.
“I went to an arcade.”
There was a long pause, the room filled with tense silence.
“Are you going to elaborate, or is that all you’re giving me to work with here?” Dean deadpanned, growing tired of having to drag information out of the boy. “What scratched my car? Why did you need to be at the arcade in the middle of the night?”
Sam said nothing. He didn’t want to lie to Dean, but he would if he had to. The less he said, the better. His bed creaked and dipped next to him as his older brother took a seat, and he could feel a pair of green eyes staring at him, clearly waiting for answers.
“This isn’t adding up, Sammy.” Dean continued after a heavy sigh. “Usually when you take off it’s to do some lame shit like go to the library. If you actually wanted to go to the arcade, why couldn’t you have asked me to take you during the day? What are you hiding?”
At first, the older teen’s effort to discuss was met with silence, but then his younger brother made a comment that effectively flared Dean’s anger.
“It’s Sam. Not Sammy.”
Barely holding onto his patience, Dean ran a hand over his tired face, and then snatched Sam’s thin wrist, awkwardly dragging the tall, thin boy over his lap and landing several hard smacks to the back of his jeans.
“We aren’t doing this, Sam . I’m not playing some stupid guessing game with you.” Dean said, his voice taking on a stern tone once again. He couldn’t help but feel somewhat satisfied by the way Sam jolted and squirmed beneath the swats. Perhaps that meant this was working, and Sam would tell him what was going on.
“Dean!” Sam protested, more out of embarrassment than pain. It had been a long time since he found himself in this position, and he assumed he had outgrown spankings. Clearly,Dean didn’t agree with his assumption. “Let me up!”
Sam was shocked into silence as his request was immediately obeyed, and he was quickly stood up. His relief was short lived, however, and he let out a surprised yelp as his jeans and underwear were simultaneously yanked down. Within a second he was bent across Dean’s knee again, the older boy’s arm wrapping around his waist and pulling him close. The cramped motel room was soon filled with the loud, cracking sound of Dean’s palm landing over and over again, only interrupted by Sam’s high-pitched protests.
“Someone must have- ow!- hit the car while I was in the arcade!” Sam managed to say, his hands gripping the rumpled blanket in front of him. “Dean!”
“Don’t ‘Dean’ me. You still haven’t told me why you took my baby in the first place. Last I checked, you don’t have a license, and I sure as hell didn’t give you permission to take her joyriding in the middle of the night.”
“I wasn’t joyriding !!” Sam insisted, tears welling in his eyes. No matter how his hips moved and twisted, Dean’s calloused hand hit its wiggling target every time. Though he stood at least two inches taller than his brother these days, Sam was still no match for Dean’s strength, the young hunter’s forearm effectively pinning Sam across his thigh.
Dean jostled the boy forward, focusing primarily on spanking his thighs and sensitive sit-spots. He knew, from personal experience, that would make an impression, and was both validated and saddened when Sam let out a distressed cry.
“You could have been pulled over, Sam. What happened to keeping a low profile?” Dean scolded, watching as Sam’s skin blossomed from pink to a painful looking red. “More importantly, you could have gotten yourself killed! I’m not asking again. Tell me why you had to go to an arcade, and why it had to be a secret.”
Stoicism was an abandoned concept as Sam burst into tears, shoulders trembling as he cried. One of his hands reached back, only to be swiftly pinned to his lower back. Dean quickly spotted an admittance stamp on the hand he had pinned, proving that Sam had indeed been to the arcade. At least he could confirm the boy wasn’t lying.
It was in moments like these that Dean understood with absolute clarity why Sam and their father seemed to butt heads all the time. All the younger boy had to do for this punishment to end was tell Dean why . However, in true Winchester fashion, he was being hard headed.
Dean landed blow after blow, smacking the same spot several times in a row before moving on, until his admirably stubborn brother finally gave in.
“Okay, okay! It’s in the Impala! In the back seat!” Sam sobbed, hardly noticing that Dean had stopped spanking him and was now resting his hand on his back.
Dean sighed. Sam’s cries tore at his heart, but he couldn’t have let such reckless behavior go unpunished. They had enough things trying to kill them without any extra teenage stupidity factored in. He rubbed Sam’s back for a moment, knowing that his brother would most likely be resentful soon, and reject any type of affection he wanted to give him. Dean momentarily missed the small, adorable five-year-old Sam. The little boy who used to soak up his hugs and brotherly comfort, and look at him like he could fix any hurt or problem in the world.
“Alright then. Get up. Go get whatever you’re talking about.” Dean said, helping Sam stand and giving him a push in the direction of the door. He watched as the youngest Winchester dragged his underwear and pants up, hissing slightly at the uncomfortable contact, and then disappeared briefly to retrieve whatever item would explain his middle of the night escapade.
When Sam came back through the doorway, carefully stepping over the salt line and locking it behind himself, he held a plastic bag from the arcade in his hand. Dean raised an eyebrow, but his face softened when his younger brother extended the bag toward him.
“Here. Merry Christmas, Dean.” Sam said, his face flushed from his previous crying.
“You…got something for me ?” Dean asked, taking the crumpled bag and opening it to reveal a giant slinky. Most guys his age wouldn’t be very impressed with an arcade trinket as a Christmas gift, but Dean had wanted a giant slinky since they were kids. He felt a second of guilt, but then decided that Sam’s punishment was no less justified. He had endangered himself, and nothing was worth that risk.
“I love it, Sam.” Dean said, setting the toy aside. He stood and pulled his tearful brother into a tight hug, which Sam then reciprocated, much to Dean’s relief. After a moment, he pulled back from the embrace and ruffled Sam’s floppy brown hair.
“No gift is more important than you being safe, okay?” He said seriously, earning a nod and a half-smile from Sam. Dean smiled back at him, then shoved him in the direction of his bed.
“Now, go to sleep. I could have been a lot harder on you and I will if you ever take off like that again. You can consider it a Christmas miracle that I’m too lazy to find my belt.” The drowsy teen scolded, though he didn’t sound stern in the slightest.
Sam resisted the urge to chuckle, knowing that his strict brother was gone now, and the goofy Dean he was used to was back.
“Night, Jerk.”
Dean was too busy playing with his new slinky to offer his standard reply, though he did throw his pillow at the boy.
“Merry Christmas, Sammy.”