Bad Boys: End Scene!

by kellyofsmeg

Summary: What Dean's reunion with his family might have been like after he left Sonny's in "Bad Boys." Warning: Pro-John. I'm in the camp that believe parents should let punishments be carried out when their kids do something wrong.

Disclaimer (PLEASE READ THIS FIRST!): I have only seen "Bad Boys" once. I can't bring myself to watch it again yet due to the distress I'm still feeling from the first time I saw it. So if anything isn't quite right, it's from that. And I'll edit it when I finally watch it again.

Also, I know a lot of fans (including myself) hated the "let him rot" line the cop said John said. But as far as I can tell from Adam Glass' tweets, John likely did say this, and Adam credits John's old school tough love parenting for it. I've since talked to at least five guys I know about this episode, giving them the scenario in detail and asking them what they'd do. Lo and behold, all of them pretty much told me they'd handle it how John did, and didn't even think the "let him rot" line was all that strange. So I've tried to put it into a context that makes me more comfortable, anyway. And maybe John didn't say it at all and it was just a pissed-off cop talking. I hope so. But we don't really have a direct answer :(

Alright. That's my rambling disclaimer. Without further ado…

…

Sonny shook Dean's hand one last time and clapped him on the shoulder. Dean gave his temporary caregiver a nod and a tight-lipped smile, wordlessly thanking him for everything. Sonny watched from the porch as Dean descended down the walkway and over to the '67 Chevy Impala. He stopped at the gate, looked over his shoulder, and waved one last time, bidding an almost ideal life goodbye. But there was one thing it had been missing.

"Dean!"

Dean turned, a smile once again breaking out over his face when he saw his younger brother, half hanging out the car window, waving his toy airplane around. "Dean!"

Sam flung open the car door and, ignoring John's call to stay in the car, ran to meet Dean. Dean briskly closed the space between them, where they collided in a hug. "Hey, squirt," Dean said, one arm still around his little brother as he raised his other fist and gave him a noogie. "Did you miss me?"

Sam nodded fervently. "Dad had to look everywhere for you, Dean! What made you think you could go on a hunt by yourself? Are you crazy?!

Dean did a good job of hiding his surprise. "Yeah," he said with a short laugh. "Pretty stupid of me, huh?"

"Very stupid," Sam agreed, holding up his airplane. "But look what Dad brought me! Isn't it awesome? Looks just like the real thing!"

"Boys," John called out his open window. "Get in the car."

"Yes, sir," Sam and Dean chorused.

Sam raced to the back seat, his arm above his head, making the plane fly its way there. Dean stood a few paces back, trying to decide whether to sit in the back seat with Sam like he was a little kid again, or take the hot seat up front.

It was decided for him when John pushed open the front passenger door and said, "Get in, son."

Never one to disobey a direct order, Dean slid into the front seat, carefully assessing his father's mood. He didn't seem any more on edge than usual, but possessed the usual air of urgency he had when he was onto a fresh hunt. He didn't seem outwardly pissed off at him either, though, so that was something. Maybe two months had given him plenty of time to cool off. The second Dean's car door was shut, John put his foot on the gas and floored it down the road.

Dean swallowed hard, figuring an apology was in order. "I'm sorry, Dad," he said, remembering what Sam had said. "I should've known better than to…you know. Go hunting by myself."

"Yes, you should have," said John mildly. "But I think you've learned your lesson." There was a lingering note of questioning in the statement that Dean didn't miss.

"Yes, Sir," Dean immediately responded. John nodded his head curtly.

"What were you hunting?" Sam asked curiously.

"Black shuck," said Dean immediately, saying the first creature that came to his mind. "Turned out to just be a normal black dog. Still vicious, though. They had to put it down."

Dean saw his father give the slightest nod of approval at his swift deception. Sam must have been satisfied with his answer, too, since he decided to change the topic.

"You stayed there while you were gone?" Sam turned around to stare out the back window as Sonny's Home for Boys shrank into the distance. Dean looked uncertainly at his father, unsure of how to respond after the fib about being lost on a hunt. "With that man?"

"He must've found you, right, Dean?" John interjected. "Gave you a place to crash until we got to you?"

"Yeah," said Dean offhandedly. "It was no big deal. I really just slept there."

"And you went to school while you were here?" Sam asked, concerned about his brother getting a proper education.

Dean looked to his father again. Another subtle nod. "Um…yeah," said Dean slowly, eyebrows knitting together, wanting to know what his Dad's game was. Why hadn't he just told Sam the truth that he'd screwed up, gotten arrested, and thrown into a juvenile home? "It is the law."

Sam looked thoughtful. "Sorry you're missing your dance, Dean. I heard that man say something about it being real important to you." John's eyes flicked to the rear view mirror.

"Yeah, well," Dean shrugged, trying to sound nonchalant, thinking of Robin's face when he never shows up. She'll think he stood her up…that he didn't care. The thought tied his stomach in knots. "It probably would've been lame, anyway."

"There's a succubus in Connecticut," said John, by way of explanation of why they couldn't stick around a few hours for the dance. "Newborns have been going missing right out of hospitals all across the state—five so far in the last week. Whether it's collecting demon spawn or lunch is hard to say. Either way, it's gotta be taken out."

Dean nodded his understanding, knowing the way any argument with his Dad would play out: there were lives at stake, and that's far more important than any school dance. He didn't necessarily disagree, but he still wished he could have gone, or at least had the chance to explain to Robin why he wouldn't be there. She deserved an explanation. He considered asking his Dad if they could stop by her house, so he could come up with some lame excuse about why he couldn't take her to the dance. But he knew that the idea was out of the question; they were already barreling towards the interstate.

Dean knew deep down that he'd have ended up breaking Robin's heart sooner or later, anyway.

Dean was thankful for the change of conservation when Sam started babbling on about his time at Bobby's—the school he went to, the friends he'd made, the books he'd read in class and the salamander he'd found under an old tire in Bobby's salvage yard that he'd named Larry.

In time, Sam talked himself to sleep, conking out in the back seat, using his backpack as a pillow. John noticed the sudden lack of Sammy-chatter and cast a quick glance over his shoulder at his sleeping son. "He really out, Dean?"

Dean stalled. If Sam was asleep, did that mean it was finally time to talk about what he did? Remembering his Dad had asked him a question and expected a response, Dean leaned over the side of his seat and softly hissed, "Sammy," prodding his shoulder. Sam remained unresponsive. "Yeah, Dad. He's out."

John alternated taking his hands off the driving wheel to shrug off his leather jacket. He handed it to Dean. "Here. Put this over him. All the blankets are in the trunk."

Dean did as he was told, spreading his father's large jacket over Sam's skinny twelve-year old frame. He was even smaller than usual, all curled up, and the jacket easily covered him.

Dean faced forward again. It was quiet for a few moments, in which Dean braced himself for the inevitable conversation about his ill-doings. At last, John said, "You know why I didn't bust you out of there, right, Dean?"

"To teach me a lesson," Dean said immediately. He remembered back to the night he was arrested, and before he could stop himself, added with a tinge of bitterness, "By leaving me to rot."

"Charges like that? It was more than just a slap on the wrist, son. They weren't gonna just release you into my custody." John had heard the hint of accusation in Dean's voice, and gave him a hard side-look, keeping his voice low so he wouldn't wake Sam. "I know it was harsh. I said it in the heat of the moment, okay? And I regretted it after. But just imagine—I get a call after midnight, when I was knee-deep in the blood and guts of four innocent people and the thing that killed them still on the loose—and find out that my kid's been arrested, caught stealing food when I know full-well I've left enough money and then some. Then you tell me it was no accident, that you lost the money in a card game?" John shook his head at the absurdity of it. "And then to top it all, the officer I spoke with said you assaulted him when you were resisting arrest."

"The guy was a dick!"

"I could tell," said John warily. "But he was also an Officer of the Law. You're lucky those charges were dropped. And there's no excuse for losing the food money gambling. But worst of all, Sammy was left home alone, no idea where you were, and you were in jail. I thought you were more responsible than that, Dean."

Dean hung his head in shame. His father's clear disappointment was worse than any punishment the legal system could've dished out. "I was stupid. I made a mistake. I'm really sorry, Dad."

"I know you are, kiddo," John said, his voice softening.

"Did you even know where I was, Dad?" Dean asked, hating how stupid and childish his voice sounded.

"Course I did," said John. "No way would I let you be detained anywhere unless I knew it was a safe place. So I dropped the hunt and headed straight back up here. I had to pick Sammy up and get him to Bobby's, for one thing. I went to the police station, found out where you were, and scoped the place out."

"And then left me there?"

"You did lose the money," said John evenly. "But it wasn't just that. We've always managed to fly under the radar. You were guilty. I couldn't just break you out and have the feds and CPS on our tail. You got caught breaking the law, you had to do the time. Actions and consequences. That's the way of the world, son. I saw it was safe, that it was on a farm—hard work, fresh air, discipline, getting a break from hunting and taking care of your brother—just getting to be a normal kid for awhile. I thought it'd be good for you." John cast a sidelong look at Dean. "You did like it there, didn't you?"

"Yeah!" said Dean immediately, and perhaps too enthusiastically judging by his father's raised eyebrow. Dean wondered if he knew how close he'd come to choosing to stay there. "I mean, it was fine."

"And that man—Sonny? He was good to you?" asked John shrewdly. His hands tightened on the steering wheel in a way that said if Dean's answer was no, he was turning the car around. It made Dean feel good to know that even after all this, his Dad still had his back.

"Yeah," said Dean, thinking fondly of his caretaker of two months, how kind and understanding he had been. "Sonny's a good guy. He um…he really helps a lot of the boys who go through there."

"Good," said John gruffly. If he wanted Dean to elaborate in terms of himself, he didn't ask. "We'll keep up the cover story for Sam."

Dean's brow furrowed. "Why did you come up with that story, anyway?"

John looked genuinely surprised at Dean's confusion. "I thought it was obvious," he cast a glance in the backseat to make sure Sam was still sleeping soundly. "I didn't think you'd want him to know the truth."

Dean looked over his shoulder at Sam, imagining having to tell his little brother who looked up to him of his crimes: gambling, stealing, hitting a cop. The look of disappointment on Sammy's face in his mind's eye was more than he could bear. He chocked the whole ordeal up to yet another thing to protect his baby brother from.

"Thanks, Dad," said Dean softly.

A moment passed in silence, driving down the long dark highway, the only light from the dim stars and the Impala's headlights. John cleared his throat awkwardly, seemingly struggling to put into words what he wanted to say.

At last, he reached out, clapping a hand on Dean's shoulder and letting it linger there. "It's good to have you back, son." John smiled at Dean, raising his hand off his shoulder and mussing his hair.

"Dad!" Dean laughed, batting his hand away.

John smirked, his eyes returning to the road. "Try to get some sleep, kiddo," he said. "We got work to do."

"Okay, Dad," Dean said, curling up in his seat with his head against the cool window.

Sonny's place had been nice. He'd had the chance to be normal for a change. But here, with his Dad and Sammy, this was where he belonged. Dean contentedly closed his eyes, listening to the purr of the Impala's engine, singing him to sleep. It was good to be home.

...

AN: There you go. A possible scenario of how the reunion might have played out.

Also, I'm pretty sure the airplane was from John and not Bobby. Because let me tell you, I have a little brother and I know the look of a kid who just got a cool new toy.

And I hate to do this, but...I've seen enough John hate this week to last me a lifetime, and this was my rebuttal to the hate I've seen. The summary came with a Pro-John warning. So I'm politely asking if you don't like John or how I wrote him to just not review. Thank you.