Some Nights

Hello, Storm

caution: contains spanking

***

"Why can't I go on the hunt with you?" Dean protested for the fifth time. Behind him, his little brother sighed loudly, signifying that this conversation was definitely going around in loops. "I don't have to go to school! It's almost the weekend anyways."

Their father, John Winchester, pressed his fingers to his left temple. It was never a good sign when he did it. "We've been through this, Dean. Don't make me say it again."

"I don't understand why I can't go with you!" 

Dean knew he was sounding like a little kid, but he couldn't help it. He had woken up to his dad basically sneaking out of the house, without so much as a goodbye. It wasn't fair. He hated being left behind on hunts. It actually made him feel like he was a little kid again, when in truth being sixteen years old with a license wasn't something to sneeze at.

"Let's just go to school." Sam spoke up. Dean glanced behind him to look at the twelve year old, still sitting at the table in Bobby's kitchen. He was holding his head as if he had a headache, kicking his legs in frustration. "I don't want to be late."

The older brother turned back around to look at their dad, but he already knew John wasn't going to budge. His dad did what he liked on his own terms, and own times. Sometimes it felt like he didn't even like his kids. And then there were times when John would give Dean such a look that made him want to shrink up against the wall in fear or shame. He was giving out such a look now.

"Dean, I already said it. I'm not saying it again. Get on now to school. I'll see you when I get back."

"I can help you!"

"Dean-"

He could hear the final warning in his dad's voice, but he ignored it, trying to push on. "You say practice makes perfect right? How am I gonna practice if you never let me come?"

John laid down his sack with a deliberate thump on the chair. Dean felt his stomach fill with dread as his dad approached him, and gripped his arm tight as if it were in a vice. Dean gulped as his father turned him to the side, and began smacking his bottom. The noise was loud, but the pain was worse, and Dean found himself gulping back tears, willing himself not to beg his dad to stop. That would only make it worse, and he didn't want to be weak with Sammy sitting right there. 

When the smacking finally stopped, John didn't let go of his arm. Instead he gripped Dean tighter, and pulled him up so that they were looking directly at each other. "Next time, when I say enough, that means enough." 

"Y-yes sir." Dean managed, his voice thick with tears, although none had fallen.

There were footsteps on the stairs, and Bobby Singer appeared around the corner, rubbing his eyes. "What the hell is going on down here? Can't a man sleep?"

"Sorry for the disturbance." John sighed, letting go of Dean's arm, but giving him a meaningful look as if to say "This is your fault."

"You going somewhere?" Bobby asked, taking in John's packing.

"Yup. "John said briskly, picking up his sack again. "Don't know when I'll be back. Keep an eye on the boys, will you?"

Bobby frowned, accessing the situation. Dean wasn't making eye contact, staring hard at the ground, and Sammy was sitting at the table, his eyes wide as if in shock. It wasn't hard to see what had happened, and that Dean was about to burst into tears. "Of course I will. They are always welcome here."

"Thank you." John went for the front door, but then stopped as if to remember he had two sons waiting for him to say something. "Goodbye." He said finally, and walked through the door.