caution: contains the spanking of the Winchester brothers and the use of a rectal thermometer. also: AU where John doesn't die, and continues to hunt with his sons.
"Dean, you okay? You don't look so good." Bobby studied the twenty-six year old sitting at the table, who looking at his plate instead of gobbling the whole thing down in six seconds.
Aware that his father was watching from across the table, Dean slowly put a bite in his mouth, despite his stomach's immediate protesting. "Yeah," He tried to say casually around his food. "I'm fine."
John's eyes went to his youngest son who was poking at his breakfast with his fork. Sam looked pale, and he was unusually quiet. "Sammy? Everything okay?"
Sam startled, looking up from his plate. "Oh yeah. I'm fine." He gave them a unconvincing grin before stabbing some of his eggs, and sticking them in his mouth.
Bobby and John shared a look over the brothers heads. Something was up, but they just weren't sure what.
Dean shoved his plate away, still half full. "Man, that was...that was some good cooking, Dad." He gave him a cheeky grin that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Getting better every day."
"I made it." Bobby corrected him slowly.
"Oh." Dean's eyes went wide, and he grimaced. "So good. Promise."
"Uh-huh. And what's your excuse?" Bobby stared Sam's plate that was still mostly covered in food.
The twenty-two year old shrugged, meeting Bobby's eyes. "I ate so much last night, I'm still full."
"I'm going to go get ready for the hunt." John said, referring to their next case. He held up his hands as both of the boys began to stand. "Your plates need to be emptied."
"What?" Dean protested
"But Dad-" Sam said at the same time.
"No. General hunter rule. When you are offered a good meal, take it. You don't know when the next one will be."
Sam looked at his plate, feeling the nausea rise in his stomach. He pushed it back down, but the more he looked at it, the more it felt like he was going to lose it. "Dad...I'm really not hungry." He tried.
"Me either." Dean said, although quieter.
"It's not a matter for discussion. Eat it." John said simple. He crossed his arms over his chest, watching them. Dean sighed, and began to slowly place the food in his mouth as though it pained him.
Finally, Bobby had enough. "Okay, what the hell is going on with you two? Usually we don't have enough because you scarfed everything down!"
"If you are feeling under the weather, you should stay with Bobby, while I go." John added calmly.
"No!" Dean exclaimed, putting the food in his mouth faster. "I'm fine. Totally good."
"Are you sure?" John studied his oldest. Dean did look a bit pale, and tired. "Maybe a break would do you good."
"I'm fine." Dean repeated, stuffing his face with the rest of the food, and stood up. "Finished." He claimed with his mouth full of food.
"Sammy?"
Sam sighed looking back down at the plate. He wasn't feeling good. He knew it. His hands were shaking, he had chills, but was sweaty, and at any time he felt like he was going to vomit. But he had been looking forward to the hunt, and hated to miss out on it. One look at his brother, and he knew that Dean was feeling the same way he was.
"I'm fine, just not hungry." He tried again.
"Sam, I'm not asking twice." John's voice went lower in such a way that both of the boys stood at attention. "If you are feeling okay, you either eat the food, or we can have a conversation in Bobby's study."
"Dad!"
"Sam."
Sam knew John wouldn't back down. It wasn't in his blood, the very same blood that raced through Sam's veins as well. And he really didn't want to have a "conversation" with his father before a long drive either.
"Are you eating?"
"I thought you weren't going to ask twice." Sam thought snidely, but he didn't dare say it out loud. "Yes, sir." He said quietly.
John stayed long enough to watch Sam clear his plate before heading out the door to begin packing for the trip. As soon as he was gone, Sam dashed up the stairs, and into the bathroom, not having enough time to close the door before emptying his stomach into the toilet. He only prayed Bobby had followed his dad outside.
"Well, that sounded pretty." Dean said dryly.
Sam looked up weakly from where he was crouched over the toilet to see Dean standing in the doorway, not looking so hot himself. "Do you need me to move over?" He managed to ask sarcastically, his stomach lurching at the thought of his brother puking.
"Dude, you shouldn't be going."
"YOU shouldn't be going either!" Sam threw back at him, getting to his feet, a little unsteadily. "You are feeling just as bad as I am, and that makes you just as much as a liar."
"How do you know I'm lying?" Dean growled at him.
"Um, you didn't want to eat bacon. Hell literally freezes when you don't want bacon."
Dean stepped closer to the toilet, his own stomach rolling at the thought of bacon. Yeah, he was definitely not feeling good, and any mention of food was not helping. Sam bit his lip, watching Dean's hands shake before crossing over to his brother.
"We should just tell Dad, right?"
"No." Dean said firmly. "You know how he gets when we are sick. We just deal and move on. Fake it til we make it."
"Fake it til we-" Sam sputtered in frustration. "We are hunters. We could get killed if we aren't on our top game. And Dad said werewolves, Dean!"
"Exactly! When was the last time we got to hunt werewolves? Hm, remember? Because I don't, cause it was a freaking long time ago!" Dean exclaimed quietly.
"He will kill us!" Sam clarified slowly because Dean wasn't getting it. "Like...dead."
Dean leaned over, flushing the toilet, and opened the window, letting the cool breeze take away the smell of vomit. He proceeded to grab Sam's arm, and led him into Dean's room.
"Let me go." Sam yanked his arm away, rubbing his wrist where Dean had gripped the hardest. "What the hell?"
"You aren't ruining this for me. You tell Dad, and I'll kill you myself."
"Oh yeah?" Sam challenged, stepping forward trying to look intimidating. He was taller than Dean, and it was something that he could throw in his short brother's face. "How about you go on and-"
"If you were going to tell, you would've said something instead of eating your whole plate of food." Dean grinned suddenly. "You want to do this as much as I do."
"But how are we going to hide it from Dad?" Sam said, smiling at little at his brother's infectious behavior.
"Fake it...." Dean started, lifting an eyebrow in Sam's direction, willing him to finish the sentence.
"Til we make it, whatever...." Sam was grinning now. Despite himself, he liked getting caught up in Dean's wild schemes. "But you should know, if I puke all over you..."
"I'll kill you myself."
As they went downstairs, they were greeted by an unwelcome sight. Bobby had pulled out his medical kit, and emptied it out on the table. Dean glanced quickly at Sam, who shrugged. "What's all this?" Dean asked, leaning over the table.
"Just looking for the thermometer."
"Why?" Sam said, his heart starting to thud.
"Because you might not realize it, but you two look kinda crappy. Just gonna check and make sure everything's good before you leave. No sense in hunting half dead."
Dean let out a nervous chuckle. "Yeah...who...who would be that stupid?" He paused when Sam elbowed him in the ribs.
"Who's first?"
"Um..." Sam gulped.
Bobby reached out, taking a hold of Dean's wrist and tugging him closer. "Open up, this goes underneath the tongue."
Dean reluctantly opened, avoiding Sam's gaze. He felt bad, but not chilled, so hopefully his secret would stay safe. Bobby crossed his arms over his chest, watching Dean fidget. It wasn't the most comforting thing, and when it finally beeped, Dean gladly pulled it out of his mouth, glad Bobby's eyes weren't on him anymore. Feeling a bit weak, he sat down in pretense of tying his shoes.
"It's a little high, but nothing horrible." Bobby looked at Dean, straight in the eyes. "You are feeling okay?" His question was pointed.
"Yeah." Dean said, swallowing on a dry mouth. "Totally fine."
He withstood Bobby's appraising look, aware that Sam sat down heavily at the table, running his hands through his hair. Bobby turned to look at him, narrowing his eyes a bit. Sam didn't seem to notice, closing his own eyes, and breathing.
"Something wrong, kid?"
Sam's eyes popped open in surprise. "No. I'm fine."
"You look tired." Bobby was wiping off the thermometer. "Open up."
"Bobby, I'm fine, really."
Shit.
Dean glanced up at Sam, and really looked at his brother. Dean had watched over his brother all his life, he knew Sam at his worst and his best. This was definitely his worst. He looked pale, and tired, too weak to stand. He needed rest. Dean felt a stab of guilt for what he was making his brother do.
Bobby didn't say a word, only waiting until Sam slowly opened up his mouth, and stuck the thermometer in underneath his tongue. Sam looked miserable, sitting and waiting until the little stick betrayed him, and Dean was starting to panic.
"Hey! Bobby!" Dean and Bobby looked around as John stuck his head in through the door. He frowned when he saw Sam sitting at the table. "Everything okay?"
"Just double checking." Bobby said. "You need something?"
"Yeah, come help me with this new weapon." John waited until Bobby followed him out before shutting the door.
Sam quickly ripped the thermometer out of his mouth, and stared in horror at the stick as it beeped. "Holy shit."
"How bad?" Dean asked quietly.
"102.2." Sam was so tired, he didn't even think about lying. "What are we going to do? If Dad and Bobby sees this, not only will they not to let me go, but Dad is going roast my ass."
Dean winced. "Mine too." He looked around the room quickly, trying to think of any option. "Wait," His eyes landed on the fridge, and an idea sparked. "Okay, start it over."
"What, why?" Sam protested.
"Because, we need it to beep right when Bobby comes in, that's why."
"Dean..."
Sam watched as his brother reached over, pushing the little button on the thermometer, erasing the incriminating evidence. Dean proceeded to stick it back into Sam's mouth, pulling him over to the fridge, and the window, so he could keep an eye on his father and Bobby. As Dean watched, Bobby began making his way back towards the house. Quickly, he pulled the thermometer out, and stuck it in the fridge, watching closing as Bobby walked up the steps. Just as the older hunter's hand was on the door knob, Dean pulled the thermometer out, and placed it back in his brother's mouth, smirking as Sam winced at the chill.
Bobby stepped into the house, and made a beeline for Sam, who allowed him to pull the thermometer out. Dean held his breath as Bobby read the numbers. Sam sat down again, resisting the urge to put his head in his arms.
"Well, you are just about perfect. Same as Dean." Bobby frowned at Sam, not understanding why a boy with almost a perfect temperature, maybe even a little bit lower than normal, looked like he was gonna fall over.
"Aw shucks." Dean said, merely to get Bobby's appraising gaze off of his little brother.
"All right, boys. You packed? Come on, let's head on to the Impala." John said as he came into the house.
Dean walked around the table, pulling Sammy up by his forearm, and tugged him up the stairs. John looked on, questioningly, while Bobby sighed. "I don't know about this, they both are acting funny."
"You doubled checked right? They say they are fine, and if we have proof to back it up, I'm not gonna question."
Upstairs, Dean turned and looked at his brother. "You seriously look like crap. Dude, if you want to stay, I get it."
"I don't want to stay." Sam made his way over to the bed, laying down on his stomach. "I just don't know if I can do this."
"Then stay." Dean urged, feeling bad for his earlier words. "I'll just go with Dad."
"You aren't any better than I am."
"I'm not running a high fever!" Dean hissed, lowering his voice.
"YET!" Sam mumbled in his arms. "Anyways, I'll be fine. We have like a six hour drive ahead of us. By the time we get there, Dad is just going to want to crash in the motel room."
"So?"
"If I sleep the whole way, I'll be fine. I'll have plenty of rest."
"Sammy-"
"Dude, no. You don't get to change plans on me because you are feeling big brotherly or whatever. I'm coming, like it or not."
Dean sighed, knowing that once Sam was in this kind of mood, there was no changing it. "Fine." He huffed. "But I don't like it."
***************
Sam didn't even make it the first hour in the car before falling asleep in the backseat. He stretched, and soon was dead to the world. John frowned, something niggling in his senses. His sons were both acting strange, Dean was a hell of a lot quieter, staring out the window. John chalked it up to nerves. It had been awhile since Dean had faced a werewolf, and it must be daunting.
They stopped for food. John wanted to rouse Sammy, but Dean convinced him not to, saying that he probably wasn't hungry anyways. Dean only picked at his food, until John threatened to take him into the men's room and give him a reason to eat. That was some motivation, and Dean hurriedly ate his food, not doubting his father's threat for a second.
They had only been on a road an half hour since the dinner when Dean asked his father to pull in at the rest stop.
"Son, if you needed to go, you should've gone at the restaurant."
"Sorry, I think I drank too much." Dean unbuckled his seat, and ran like crazy, barely making it behind the building before he emptied his stomach into the bushes. He knelt down on the ground, feeling his hands shake before going into the bathroom, and rinsing his face before using the toilet for the original purpose.
When he came out, he was feeling fresher, and hopped into the car with gusto. They discussed the case, and the plans for attack. By the time they reached the hotel, it was late like Sammy had predicted. Dean was finally able to rouse Sam after his father went in to pay for the their room.
"Where are we?" Sam managed, wiping his eyes.
"Motel. How are you feeling?" Dean quickly dropped his palm on Sam's forehead, wincing at how warm he still was.
"Fine." Sam pushed away Dean's hand. "You?"
"Getting worse." Dean admitted quietly. "I vomited, and now I'm getting chills."
Sam pushed up into a sitting position, and scooted out of the car. "We will sleep tonight, and it will be fine tomorrow. You'll see."
Something was up with his boys. John could sense it. Sam barely said two words to him, and indefinitely ignored the invitation to eat, collapsing on the bed, falling asleep quickly and soundly once again.
Dean was a great deal quieter when they went out to eat, and John was surprised when his son went for a bowl of soup instead of a hamburger. When prodded, Dean gave a strained laugh, and something smart about if it goes down easily, it will come back up just as easily. They headed back to the motel after Dean left to use the bathroom, coming back looking pale and tired.
"Are you okay?"
"Yeah, Dad." Dean sat down in the passenger seat. "I think that soup really didn't agree with my stomach."
"Hm." John said, noting the way Dean's eyes widened slightly. "Well, you look tired. When we get back, you should try to get some sleep."
"Yes sir." Dean said quietly.
Once back at the motel, it didn't take any prodding for Dean to curl up next to his brother who still asleep, and didn't show any signs of moving. John watched as Dean kicked off his boots, and jeans before covering up, and closing his eyes.
"Goodnight." John said softly, changing out of his clothes. There was no reply from either of the boys, and for some reason, that unsettled John the most.
*******
The next day, it was Sam was woke up, stretching and yawning. He had slept for a long time, and was feeling great about his decision to come along. He still felt a bit chilled, and achy, but he could work with that sensation.
"Morning, kiddo." John came into the room just as Sam was changing into his clothes. John was carrying three cups of coffee, and offered one to Sam, who took it readily, sucking it down.
"Dean's not awake?" John felt a spark of worry, looking at the lump still on the bed.
Dean groaned as Sam shook him, rubbing his eyes. "Yes, your highness?" He managed to get out.
"Time to go work." Sam smirked at him.
Dean paused at this, trying to gauge how he was feeling. He had been up most of the night, chilled and sweating, and it was only by pure miracle that he hadn't woken his dad up each time he crept into the bathroom, praying that he didn't vomit. Each time, nothing came up, having emptied his stomach of all food earlier that day.
"Five more minutes."
"Dean." John said warningly.
That was all his son needed. Dean threw off the covers, and found his jeans from the night before, pulling them on. Something was off in the way he was moving, and John found himself observing him closely. Dean felt his father's eyes on him, and picked up the pace, even though his body was in agony.
As soon as their father left the room, Sam whirled on Dean. "You look horrible!"
"Thanks." Dean muttered. "I feel horrible."
Sam reached out, putting his hand on his brother's forehead. The very fact that Dean allowed him to do so was very telling. "Holy...Dean!" Sam lowered his voice. "You are burning up!"
"I know." Dean said quietly. "But look, this doesn't change anything. I can still take on a werewolf."
"Can you though?"
"Thanks for the vote of confidence, but yes. Yes I can."
"Boys, let's go!" The call came from outside.
"We should tell Dad."
"If we tell Dad, you are in just as much trouble as I am!" Dean pointed out. "We've been lying through our teeth for more than twenty four hours."
"Dean..."
"Sam, it's okay. I'll be okay."
"BOYS! TODAY!"
"Coming!" They both yelled, already heading for the door, knowing the tone of voice.
***
The werewolf case was cut and dry. All the information the Winchesters collected propelled them in the right direction. By the end of the first day, they knew she was female, and had a hideout in the woods, where she was attacking the campers, and hikers alike.
"We will hunt her down tomorrow." John said, clapping both of the boys on their shoulders. Sam took it, grinning, but Dean actually whimpered, closing his eyes. "Son, you okay?"
"He bumped into the wall at that bar we went to today," Sam covered quickly. "Probably a bruise."
"Yeah." Dean said, sounding a bit pained.
To Dean's great distress, John took them straight to a restaurant. He had barely holding it together all day, but now with the smells of food all around him, he felt the waves of nausea hitting.
They ordered food, Dean sticking with his regular hamburger and fries combo, hoping he could just pick at the fries. Sam looked a bit uneasy too, looking around, trying to find the restroom. The waiter brought out their food, and Dean tried to not to puke at the smell of hamburger wafting towards him.
"You going to eat that?" John asked pointedly, watching Dean pick at the burger.
"Yes sir." Dean said quickly, picking up to take a bite, but then he set it down again, and began to slowly eat the fries, hoping that he could get away with it. No such luck. By the time, his father and Sammy were done eating, the burger was still sitting, untouched.
"Dean."
"Dad, I-"
"May I have a word?" John stood, and walked towards the restroom, not looking back to see if his son had followed or not.
Dean gulped, following quickly. Once he was inside the doors, his father instructed him to put his hands on the sink, making him bend over. Dean squeezed his eyes at his father landed a series of hard swats on his bottom. By the end of it, Dean was yelping, eyes stinging, praying that no one else came into the bathroom. Luckily, it seemed to work.
"Now you are going to get out there, and eat your sandwich. Stop screwing around, or next time it will be with whatever I got on hand, and on the bare. Do you understand?"
Dean nodded miserably. "Yes sir."
"Good. Let's go."
Sam looked up Dean sat down at the table. He didn't miss the wince of pain, or the blush spreading over Dean's face. His father had actually spanked him. Sam wasn't too surprised, just felt sorry for his brother. He watched as Dean reached for his plate, and then paused, noticing for the first time the whole table was empty.
"Where did it go?" John demanded of Sam.
Sam shrugged, doing his best puppy dog eyes. "One of the waiter guys just took it away."
John sighed heavily, not wanting Dean to get away with not eating, but not wanting to wait another twenty minutes for a burger. "Let's just go."
Dean looked at Sam as soon as his father's back was turned and mouthed a "thank you" in his direction. Sam smiled innocently following their father out the door. The ride back to the motel was a quiet and uncomfortable one for Dean, who now had pain radiating in his behind, as well as sore everywhere else. It felt like he had run a marathon, and he still had one day to go before they could go back to Bobby's.
The next morning, Dean woke up, and knew he was in trouble. His body wasn't going to let him work. It ached with each step, and his head pounded. Dean quickly headed towards the bathroom before his father or brother woke up. He turned on the shower before puking up the fries that had been lurching around in his stomach all night. Dean decided that a shower wasn't a horrible idea. He turned the water on hot, feeling the warmth sear into his bones.
Dean didn't feel any better when he stepped out, grabbing the wall to steady himself when the room started to spin. He had to get through today, and he was done. No harm, no foul.
Tell that to the room that won't stop turning upside down.
They headed out in the night to the woods.. John was focused now, and very little got in the way of that. As they were walking through the woods, his father tracking the footprints, Dean felt the spinning sensation again. He leaned heavily against the tree, closing his eyes. Sam, aware that Dean had stopped, turned to look, his blood turning cold at the sight of his brother.
"Dean! Hey are you-"
A growl stopped him in mid-sentence. Sam turned to see glowing eyes in the dark. He froze in panicked as Dean didn't seem to respond to the obvious threat. He pulled out his gun, loaded with silver bullets, preparing himself.
"Dean!"
Dean was still leaning against the tree, his eyes closed. He could hear growling, and he was trying to move, but it felt like he couldn't even take a single step in the right direction to help Sam. Suddenly, he felt so stupid for doing this. How could he be any use to anyone, feeling like he was going to die? Bobby's words came back to him.
"No sense in hunting half dead."
Damn it.
"Dean!" Sammy yelled, lifting his gun to shot, but his head was still in a fog, and his hands were shaking slightly, so the bullet missed, hitting the tree where Dean was standing.
Suddenly a gunshot echoed, and all was quiet. Shaken to the core, Sam turned to see his father with his smoking gun. "What the hell-" He began, but suddenly Dean dropped, hitting the ground with a thump. "Dean!" John raced over to him, and turned his son over, checking his pulse and breathing.
Sam felt like he couldn't breathe in the few horrible moments. Had he shot Dean? Had he killed his own brother?
"There's a pulse. Sam, what happened?" John sounded brisk. Sam knew it was a tact of covering his obvious fear, but it still didn't cut through the fog until his father shouted his name. "SAM! Did it attack him? What happened? I heard gunshots."
"Dad..." Sam realized he was sobbing.
"Sam." His father sounded panicked now. "What is it?"
"Dean...he's sick...he's really really sick."
"What?"
"We both are..or were, but I started getting better, but Dean just got worse, and now, he almost died..and I'm so so sorry..." Sam broke down into sobs.
John looked between his sons. One was crying so hard, it sounded like he couldn't breathe, the other was starting to stir in his arms. It all was starting to make horrible sense in his eyes, the strange behavior, avoided eye contact. Dean refusing to eat. His sons had lied to him and Bobby and now, one had almost died because of it.
"Sammy, go on back to the car. I'll bring Dean."
"Dad-"
"Go." John ordered firmly. He watched Sam pick up his gun that had dropped to ground, and slowly start his way back towards where they parked the Impala. John lifted Dean up as if he was a child again, carrying him through the woods. Sam had already had the car unlocked by the time he got there, and he carefully laid Dean down in the back, taking time to check him over to make sure there weren't any injuries.
Sam was still crying in the passenger seat when John came back from deposing of the body of the werewolf. John said nothing, merely touching his shoulder before turning the car on, and driving. What he wanted to do was to drive straight to Bobby's and get Dean tucked in, but six hours was a long time to drive, and he knew they needed to stay the night somewhere, so they headed back to the motel where John simply ordered both of his sons to go to bed.
****
The next morning, Dean woke up, feeling strange. He looked over to see Sam, asleep beside him, one arm flung over him, protectively. Dean was surprised to see dried tear stains on his face, and he tried to remember what had happened last night. As he stirred, sitting up, Sam opened up his eyes.
"You're awake?"
"Yeah..." Dean said, stiffly. "What-" He was interrupted by Sam throwing his arms around him, and hugging him tightly. "Okay...okay...are you...are you crying?"
"It's all my fault." Sam sobbed into Dean's shoulder.
"That's not true."
Dean looked over to see his father sitting on the bed, watching the scene. "Dad...what's going on?"
"You don't remember?"
Dean shook his head as Sam pulled away, wiping his face. "No..sir."
"Do you remember telling me that you were okay, and fine, and that there was nothing wrong with you, repeatedly?"
This wasn't good.
"Um, yes sir." Dean swallowed.
"Both of you lied to my face. And last night, Sam almost saw the the consequences of the those actions."
Dean's breath caught as he stared at his brother, who was wiping way more tears. "Sammy-"
"Just to be clear, how long have you been feeling unwell?"
"Since the day we left, sir." Sam answered truthfully, after sharing a quick glance with his brother. "We both were feeling sick, but..."
"But you decided to lie so you could come on a hunt that you clearly weren't prepared for." John finished for him.
Sam flinched, looking down at the blanket, unable to make eye contact.
"I just have one question. Dean, you were burning up all night last night. If you both were sick, how did you hide that from Bobby?" John had a feeling he knew the answer, but needed to confirm.
Dean swallowed. "We faked the results."
"Of mine." Sam interjected, valiantly. "Dean's temperature wasn't high at the time, but mine was."
"How high?"
"102.2" Dean answered.
John swore underneath his breath. That was high for Sam, and how did he not know? He should've of picked up on it. Not been so trusting of his sons. "How did you get that pass Bobby, I know he would've told me."
"It was my idea, sir. I put it in the fridge." Dean said, his heart thumping loudly.
Here is your shovel to help you on your journey of digging your grave.
"You did WHAT?" John demanded, standing up suddenly. "You are telling me that you hid a HIGH fever from Bobby?"
Dean took a deep breath, feeling all but five. "Y....y-es sir."
John walked over to the door, and paused with his hand on the knob. The silence that filled the motel room was more overwhelming than the tension. "Okay. " John turned back to face both of his sons. "We will leave for Bobby's. Please make sure the car is packed."
"Where are you going?" Sam asked cautiously.
"I need to make a stop at the store. And frankly, right now I can't look at either of you without wanting to strangle you, so I'm going to walk."
Dean flushed, looking down. "I'm sorry, sir."
"Not as sorry as I am." John answered, before walking out.
******************************
Bobby looked up as the door to the house opened. The three Winchester men came into the room, John had his hands on both of his sons shoulders, herding them into the room. Bobby stood up, observing in confusion.
"What's going on?"
"Nothing I can't handle." John answered, mildly. "Anything you want to say to Bobby? Sam, Dean?"
"I lied to you." Dean spoke softly. "When you asked if I was okay, I wasn't."
"We faked my temperature." Sam said, just as softly, not able to look at Bobby without his eyes filling with unshed tears.
"What in holy hell is going on!" Bobby exclaimed.
"I'll explain." John shoved both of his sons towards the stairs. "Shower. Bed. Not a word."
"Yes sir." Dean mumbled, his heart sinking into his chest.
Sam threw his arms around Bobby, hugging him tightly. Bobby felt his heart soften as the boy's tears soaked through his shirt. "I'm sorry." Sam cried.
Bobby took a breath, the pieces falling into place. The boys had lied to to him about feeling sick, and now the consequences were coming clear. He gently pulled back, and felt Sam's forehead. The boy was warm, warmer than he should be.
Damn it.
"Go on upstairs." John said firmly.
Sam walked up the stairs, hearing the shower turn on. He walked into his room, and then flung himself down, and began to cry, the pent of stress and anxiety of the past few days over taking him. Finally admitting to himself that he wasn't feeling good, he laid down, shaking with sobs, unable to shake the memory of Dean lying on the ground, unmoving.
When Dean passed his little brother's room, knocking on the door, he was surprised by no answer. He pushed it open and stopped when he found Sam, curled up, face wet with tears, but asleep. Dean pulled the covers up over Sam, and then on second thought, he climbed in the bed as well, falling asleep next to his brother.
***
A week had passed in which Sam and Dean recovered from their illness. It was agony waiting for their punishment, but also a relief knowing that it was put off until they were feeling better. Dean recovered faster than Sam, his fever breaking around the third day of being back. Soon the house was full of his teasing, and laughter, but in a more subdued manner. Sam recovered slower, despite his feeling better on the hunt, and he spent more time in his room, reading, avoiding their father.
The Winchester boys knew that hammer was going to drop at some point, and it was only a matter of days. So when John came home at the end of the week, with a small bag in hand, Dean promptly felt his stomach drop. John met his eyes, and jerked his head towards the stairs.
"Go on to my room, Dean."
Dad's room?
They were so dead.
"Yes sir."
Sam was laying on his bed on his stomach, a book in front of him, resting his chin on his wrist as he read. He looked up when Dean knocked on the door. His brother didn't even have to say anything, Sam knew from the familiar look. The hammer had dropped. Sam slowly got to his feet, kissing his ass goodbye, and followed Dean into their father's room.
They didn't speak at all, both just jumpy as hell, wondering what his father was going to do. And what was in the bag? Dean was going to tell Sam about the mysterious bag when John appeared in the door way, with the bag in his hand and the old paddle that lived in Bobby's drawers
Sam stiffened as John shut the door behind him, while Dean nodded respectful at his father. "Boys, what happened last week shouldn't have even been a possibility."
Dean looked down at his feet, his heart start to hammer in his chest.
"Under no circumstances are you to lie to me like that!" John looked between his sons. "Look at me!" This got the boys attention, and their heads snapped up. "What happened was very, very serious. Dean, you could've been killed. Do you understand me?"
"Yes, sir."
"And Sam, you almost shot your brother! That shot was something you could've done in your sleep, but you weren't in your clear mind. "
Sam was already close to tears. "I'm sorry."
"I know you are, son. But we haven't even begun. As far as you were aware, was Sam in the right mind to go hunting last week?"
Dean looked a bit surprised at the question, and quickly looked at his brother. "Um..."
"In your opinion, did you think Sam should be hunting in the state he was in?"
".....No sir." Dean hung his head.
"Sam. In your opinion, was Dean able to be hunting in the state that he was in?"
"No, sir."
"So you both knew that neither of you would be able to perform like true hunters, but yet you continued to lie to me. And Bobby."
There was no reply because it didn't need to be said.
"This doesn't happen again." John picked up the bag, slowly emptying out the contents. "When trust is broken, it takes a long time to heal. If I can't trust you, I can't hunt with you."
"Dad!" Dean said, sounding heart broken.
Sam's eyes were on the contents, realizing what they were and who they were for.
"Dean. I don't need to remind you how serious this is." John opened up the box, and pulled out a thermometer, but it looked different from the regular ones. "Do you know what this is?"
Dean frowned, but Sam spoke up slowly. "A...rectal thermometer?"
"Yes." John met their shocked gazes steadily. "If I can't trust you to be honest with me, I'll have to get creative. " John set out a little tub of vaseline beside the thermometer on the table beside his bed. "I want both of you boys to drop your pants, and step out of them. Boxers too."
Dean was still staring shocked at the thermometer. "Dad...please..."
"Now please."
This was horrible.
Dean followed his little brother's lead in unbuttoning and pulling down their pants, stepping out. John watched, reaching out to grab Dean's wrist as soon as his eldest was done. Dean, gulping slightly, leaned over his father's open lap. John tugged him until his chest was lying on the bed, and his bottom was in prominent position. Dean tensed as he felt his dad lift his hand in the air before bringing it down with a loud smack.
Sam flinched as he realized that he was about to watch his brother get his bottom spanked, and that he was next in line.
Dean was trying not to cry, but the whole situation felt dire. His father's hand was never going to stop spanking, and he would be stuck in the over the knee position for the rest of his life. Tears sprang out finally, and he buried his face into the cover, crying as his dad continued to paint his buttocks a glowing red.
Finally, John pulled him up off his lap, and reached for Sammy, not allowing his son to bend over his lap, but instead just tugging him up and over and began smacking like nobody's business. Sam began crying out loud instantly. It had been a long time coming, a week felt like eternity when you were faced with a spanking at the end of it, but it didn't mean he was prepared for the pain.
Dean looked away, unable to watch his brother twisting and turning over his father's lap. Dean tried to rub the sting out from his own bottom, trying to ignore Sammy's heartbroken cries as his father continued to spank him, the hand falling down in a rhythmical pattern. When John finished, and pulled Sam off their lap, he had their attention.
"You will not lie to me about your health. Do you understand?"
"Yes, sir. "Dean said.
"Yes sir, "Sam echoed tearfully, rubbing his bottom.
"When you are asked a question, I expect to be answered truthfully and honestly. Lying to me because you want to come on a hunt tells me that maybe you aren't ready to be hunter. When you lie to someone, you potentially start a web that can spread over, and cause ultimate harm."
"Dean, come here."
Choking back what felt like a sob, Dean approached his father and allowed him to pull him over his lap again. He let his head fall on the bed, covering his face as he felt his father open up the vaseline tub.
"I am doing this because I can't trust you to tell me what is needed to be told." John's finger prodded uncomfortably, and Dean, unable to help it, let a out a slight whimper as his father slipped his finger in before sticking the coated thermometer in.
The intrusion was unwelcome, and Dean instantly hated it, wanting to take it out. But he felt his father's hands very steady on his back, keeping him still. It seemed like it took hours for the thermometer to beep, and when it finally did, Dean could've cried with relief. His father pulled it out, keeping one firm hand on Dean's back keeping him on his lap.
John laid down the thermometer and picked up the paddle. Dean, already sore from the first spanking, started yelping and crying when the paddle came crashing down on his bottom. John didn't hold back, determined his son wouldn't be sitting comfortably for the next few days, or week if he could help it. Dean twisted and squirmed, crying out in pain as his father rained smacks down on his buttocks.
Sam was watching, horrified, not sure if he wanted to cover his eyes or his ears, the growing panic as he knew he was next.
When John decided his oldest had had enough, he pulled his sobbing son to his feet, standing up as well. He grabbed Dean's chin, and looked directly at the tear filled green eyes. "This does NOT happen again. Understood?"
"Y.....y-y-yes, s-sir." Dean managed to get out between the sobbing.
"Corner." John directed him there with a well placed swat that had Dean whimpering, holding his bottom as he went to the corner.
Sam watched as his father sat back down on the bed and motioned him over. Sam climbed on, feeling his father move him to the perfect position. He squirmed as his dad's fingers prodded in the uncomfortable place, and then slipped the thermometer in. Sam began to cry as they waited for the results, ducking his head in shame. John took no notice. When it finally beeped, Sam felt his father it out, and he breathed a sigh of relief.
"You are still a bit warm." John said, reaching over to brush his son's hair up off his forehead in an extremely tender gesture. "When we are done, you are going to bed. Do you hear me?" His father's hand dropped away.
"Yes." Sam squeaked as he felt the paddle brush against his bottom.
The first whack came down, and all other thoughts left his mind except for how long he would have to endure the spanking. His voice was already strained from being sick, was now hoarse from yelling and hollering as the paddle met his backside again and again.
In the corner, Dean glanced over his shoulder, watching Sam cry, gripping the blankets as the paddle smacked into his bottom. He briefly wondered if his butt was as red as Sam's was.
Probably.
"Alright now." John said, dropping the paddle on the bed, and pulling his sobbing son up off the bed. "I need you both to listen to me. Dean, come over here." John waited until Dean was closer before he spoke. "You have proved to me that you can't be trusted. Therefore, until I feel that you can be trusted, you grounded from hunting."
"What?" Dean blurted out. "But...Dad!"
John gave him a look, and Dean quickly looked down at the floor, eyes filling with tears again.
"And, before every hunt, until we can trust that you will tell us the truth, we will be checking you over."
Sam swallowed on an extremely dry throat. "With the..."
"Yes. "John met his gaze. "Either Bobby or I will be checking to make sure you are in the right place for a hunt. Do both of you understand the circumstances that brought to you this place today? Do you understand how this goes from here on out?"
"Yes, sir." They both said quietly.
"Good. Now, Samuel, you are to be in bed for the rest of the night."
Sam left, scooping up the jeans and boxers to his chest, and headed for his room. He dumped his clothes on the floor, and climbed on his bed, crying to himself as he hugged his pillows, muffling his sobs. His bottom hurt. His father wasn't going to let him hunt, and now they weren't even going to be able to go anywhere without being treated like children. It wasn't fair.
Dean waited until his father went downstairs before slipping into Sam's room. His brother was lying on his stomach, his head buried in his arms, lower half of him still naked, the skin on his backside was glowing red. Dean laid down beside him, and pulled him close.
"I'm sorry I got you into this mess."
"It's....n-not your fault." Sam said, tucking himself into his brother's arms, needing the comfort.
"No, but I should've stopped it before it happened. Now all this crap..." Dean paused, swallowing. "I'm really, really sorry, Sammy."
Sam didn't even object to the name, just closed his eyes tightly. "I'll forgive you, if you forgive me."
"Of course." Dean smiled against his brother. "Always."
Silence stretched as the two brothers laid in companionable, side by side, Sam's face turned into his brother's side, like he used to as a child. Dean found himself yawning, and started to roll to get up to head to his own bed.
"Stay..." Sam muttered, half asleep.
"Dude, your bed isn't big enough, and if Dad finds out, I'll probably get spanked again. Which I REALLY don't want."
"Please..." Sam wrapped his fingers around his pillow. "I don't want...to be alone."
Dean sighed, laying back down. "Okay, just a few hours."
"Thanks, Dean."
"Thank my ass, it will probably be the one to catch it."
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Update! Took me almost a day and half to write it! Woot! Woot! Hope you enjoy it! Please comment and/or vote...yada yada, you know the drill!
Have a great rest of the day!!