Prompt # 50: blood, tired, Impala
Summary: How things should have gone.
Characters: Dean, Sam, Bobby, and John
Notes: Title courtesy of my radio and the Eagles! :D. Desperado means a desperate and violent criminal. Beginning: Season 2, “Everybody Loves a Clown” and then just after “The Usual Suspects”


Dean was just plain tired.

And it wasn’t just the fact that he had pretty much taken his anger out on his poor defenseless baby either.

Which was really killing him that he’d stopped.

He was tired off everything. Exhausted thinking about what was to come and how in the hell he was supposed to keep going without his dad around.

Sinking down to his knees Dean stared at the dirt in front of him. He was breathing hard, fingers relaxing from their clinched grasp of the crowbar that had already done so much damage to the Impala’s trunk.

But none of that even mattered anymore.


Sam watched his brother, cringing on each impact of metal hitting metal. He had tried to rush back outside, but Bobby had stopped him.

            “Let ‘im be, Sammy.”

            “But, Bobby -

            “Ain’t no blood being shed, boy. Let ‘im be. Let ‘im come to you.”

Sam doubted that his brother was going to ask him for help, let alone actually want it. No, Dean Winchester wasn’t about to go soft on them, that was for sure.

And that scared the crap out of Sam.

Weeks Later:

They returned to Bobby’s place after their escape in Baltimore. He was not pleased that not only had the police had caught them and they had not bothered to call him, but that Sam had hurt his arm as well.

He noted that the brothers were somewhat edgy, unsure of themselves. They seemed to watch what they said around each other and practically tensed up when they were in the same room.

Something was definitely up. And he doubted it had anything to do with the call he got weeks ago from Ellen about them teaming up with her Jo.

That first night, when they finally both headed off to bed, Bobby knew that he had to nib this ‘whatever’ in the butt and get those two straightened out.

It wasn’t sneaking, because he was in his own house, but he was damn careful heading back down the steps and going into his study.

            “Hey, it’s Bobby,” he said into the phone, glancing back almost nervously at the door. “I think it’s been long enough. This was hitting them pretty hard. I think its bout time you quit being so such a hardass and get back here! Or at least, start answering your damn phone!”


They spend a week there before Bobby quits making nightly calls. He was starting to feel like some unwanted girlfriend turned stalker or something. But the point of the matter is, something still needed to be done with those Winchester boys.

It had been easy enough when they were little. Spanking them had almost been a means to get through the day, what with all their energy and yapping and all. But they were adults now, even though they acted almost worse than they did way back then.

Not that that would have stopped their daddy, that’s for sure.

He had sent Sam off to buy them some more supplies and he had Dean helping him out with his new arrival. It seemed like the most he could do these days was keep the two apart as much as possible.

Dean was usually a pretty good companion for things like this, manual labor where a little dirt and grease won’t get him scolded at. Talk seemed to just flow easily around the hood of a classic, but now Bobby’s lucky to get a grunt out of the boy and he’s just about ready to pull out what little hair he’s got left.

By the time Sam gets back, he’s almost thankful for the kid’s whining about the stupidity of some local folk compared to the silence he’s suffered through the last two hours.

And damn its only has been two hours.

He gets Sam to help him with dinner and Dean finished the car on his own. By the time the table’s set and the meal’s set out all neat like, because Sam is just that kind of kid, Bobby damn near has a heart attack and drops dead at the sight of Dean stating he wasn’t hungry and heading off to bed instead.

            “Sam,” Bobby started, because enough was enough.

He’s surprised then, when the boy doesn’t flow with accusations and observations, as he’s always been known to do.

He just shakes his head and bites into his broiled chicken.

Damn boys broke his heart.


He’d never been happier and more pissed to hell to see John Winchester in his life.

            “Hey Bobby,” the smug son of a bitch smiled, sipping at his coffee.

            “You son of a bitch,” Bobby growled, echoing his thoughts. “Coulda called me, ‘stead I damn near really kill ya!”

Placing his shotgun down at the opposite end of the table, Bobby stepped forward and looked his friend over.

Son of a bitch. He looked refreshed and relaxed. Unlike his two younguns right above him.

            “So, which one of them is causing your golden locks to fall there Bobby,” John smirked, sipping at the beer he was offered before returning to his coffee.

            “Both your boys,” he replied, sitting down with his own cup of brew staring at the man he had for months believed dead.

When the man planned, he was damn good at it.

            “You should’ve told them.”

John just nods, not even offering up one of his famous ‘They’re my boys’ lines that he damn near has memorized.

            “Thought better of it, but it might just be time.”

            “Past time,” Bobby grunts. “They’re going to be all tears and hugs for all of twenty seconds before they start chewing you up, ya know.”

Again, John nods sipping his coffee until the last of the dark liquid slips past his lips and settles soothingly in his stomach. Best coffee he’s had in months, and it’s not the brewing that makes it so sweet.

            “And then I’ll have them over my knee and straightening then back into line. We don’t have time for their theatrics. Not with this demon on the loose.”

He scoffs, knowing that it’s not just an old statement to his old friend. And when the boys see their daddy back, he’s sure that they’re going to find out real fast just how fine he is.

            “Arm looks loads better than the last time I saw ya,” Bobby says, easily slipping into more comfortable things.


Sam’s the first up, so he starts in with the breakfast. Bobby’s next and so understandably when he hears footsteps approaching he thinks it’s his brother.

            “Couldn’t find grape jam, sorry,” he mumbles as he flips at the eggs. Grape jam’s the only kind that Dean will eat for some reason, otherwise he’ll just have his toast plain.

John just watches his son for a second, his baby, and Sam’s not too surprised not to get a response since unless it’s absolutely necessary they’re not really communicating.

So John just watches him, smiling at his movements and damn if the kid acts just the same as he was at sixteen with his pajama pants still on, bare footed and his hair a heavy mess.

Bobby takes a sip at his coffee, nibbling at his toast as he watches the two. John’s got a goddamn goofy grin on his face and damn if Bobby doesn’t too. He watches Sam place all the toast on a plate to take it to the table and he’s glad that it’s a plastic plate, because he knows like hell it’s going to test gravity in a second before it happens.

Oh well, toast is toast and they can still eat that. Dogs ain’t been inside yet that morning so the place is pretty clean.

            “Dad?! Holy fuck!”

            “Hey baby,” John said, sweet as anything and then the boy launches at him, and one toast is a goner but Bobby’s still got that goofy smirk of his that it’s very little of a lost.

            “Easy Sammy, it’s me kid. Breathe baby, I’ve got you.”

Dean’s in the room a minute later, towel around his waist because he probably heard the clatter and his brother yell but never really caught onto the words.

Dean’s gapping at the air, stunned at the sight before him. Sammy’s sobbing onto John’s shoulder and John’s holding him uptight as hell but he’s now looking at his first-born and his eyes might be a little misty.

            “Hey Champ. Good to see you.”

            “Dad?” Dean asked, holding the towel with one hand and glancing questioningly at Bobby.

He just nods and jerks his head back towards John. This ain’t his moment but to watch.


            “Yeah, Dean. It’s me, son.”

Sam pulls back, tears still streaming down his face and he looks from John to Dean, back to John and then over to Bobby. Dean’s still planted in his spot, shaking his head.

            “No, it - you can’t be!”

John sighed, dropping his arms from around Sam and turning to his other son. Really, both had figured that out of the two boys, Dean would be thrilled and Sammy would throw a fit.

Not that there still wasn’t plenty of time for that.

            “It’s me Dean. I swear it. I’m so sorry I couldn’t be here for you boys sooner.”

He’s taking small steps, Sam behind him turning to keep the man in his sight. He’s a step away from Dean before he stops, giving the boy the space if he needs it.

            “NO, we, we burned you-your body! We saw it! The hospital, and you’re heart-”

            “I know. I know, Dean. I’m sorry.”

            “You lied,” Dean chocked, silently crying and taking a step away from his father.

Bobby frowned. This wasn’t how he had thought things would go so soon, but he knew from what he had told Johnny and what the boys would say that they’d need the time for themselves.

Quickly, he picked up the bread from the floor, grabbed the two that Sam and John hadn’t avoided and went out to feed the dogs.

There’d be enough time for breakfast later.

            “I did. I’m sorry. I had to.”

            “Why?” Dean whispered and he’s so silent with his tears that John wonders if he even knows they’re flowing.

He closes the gap between them, grabbing the boy before him in a tight hug. Dean hugs him back, tighter than he had in years. He’s shaking so much at his sobs now, John mostly fears for the towel and his kid’s modesty, but that won’t last long.


            “What happened?” Sam asked once Dean had regained himself.

Dean looked back at him, guilty expression over his face. It might have been over crying for so long in front of his little brother, but it’s probably that he’s finally seeing how downtrodden his brother is.

Sam too grimaces, noting how much thinner his brother is. He notes how sick Dean looks and feels instantly bad for all the shit he’d been giving him for the past few months.

Things that neither could see since they were too busy wallowing in their own sorrow.

            “That was a shape shifter, took my form before it was killed.”

            “But why. Why’d you leave us?” Dean asked and he sounded as young as Sam, maybe younger.

            “Made a nasty deal with the demon.”

            “So, you did sell your soul for Dean? Dad, how could you do that!”

            “Easy, Sammy,” John said, holding a hand up to calm his son. “I never said that! I did this for Dean, yes, but I didn’t do what you think I did.”

            “The gun?” Dean asked.

            “Handed that over,” John nodded, bringing a hand up to rest on Dean’s shoulder.

            “Where’d you go?”

John sighed, hating this part a hell of a lot.

            “It took me, held me for a few months…”

            “Tortured you,” Sam added softly.

            “More or less,” John said with a sad smile. He could feel Dean tense under his hand and he gave his shoulder a squeeze while smiling at his youngest. “It had a few tricks up its sleeve, so it got a few things out of me. But I had a few surprises of my own, and I got out alright. Been calling all the right people to warn them off, get them away from where I knew they were and raising their protection.”

            “And us?”

            “You two were safe, long as you didn’t know about me. I’m sorry, but that’s how it had to be.”

            “How long’s everyone known? How long has Bobby known?” Dean asked angrily, feeling himself tense up again and stepping away from his father’s hand.

            “Dean,” John warned, dropping his hand. “Don’t take this out on Bobby. If you’ve got something to say to me-”

            “I’m saying it! How long? How long have we been suffering while everyone else looked in on us like the fucking idiots you made us be!”

            “Hey!” John yelled, reaching for his arm and getting it in a tight grip before it was pulled out of his grasp.

            “How long has everyone been laughing behind our backs?! Seeing me and Sammy suffer for nothing! How long, Dad.”

            “Dean, cool it,” John said sternly, wishing he didn’t have to switch so quickly over to his stern persona.

            “How long! Who the fuck else knows?!”

            “Dean, I’m not going to tell you again, son. Calm down.”

Sam watched, slightly amazed at the words Dean was tossing at their father. While those were all good questions, he was surprised that it had been his brother and not himself who had asked them. And the more he heard the madder he too was getting.

            “Why don’t you answer the questions Dad?”

            “Sam, don’t start!”

            “Don’t snap at him!” Dean yelled, bringing John attention back to him. “You’re just standing there quiet! Why can’t you just be honest for once! We’re your sons, goddamn it! We should’ve known!”

            “That’s enough!” John yelled.

He grabbed Dean faster than either boy remembered he could move. In one swift and frightening movement, he sat on one of the chairs and had Dean over his lap and the towel on the floor.

            “Get off!”

John brought his hand down hard, instantly smarting the still wet cheeks.

            “Ahh! Shit!”

            “You better watch your mouth, Dean Michael!” John said, continuing to bring his hand down on the pale butt cheeks in front of him.

            “Stop! Ahh! Stop! You can’t do this!”

            “Hell yes I can! Just because I haven’t been around for a while does not entitle you to raise your voice at me, boy!”

            “Dad! Stop!” Sam yelled, shocked at the sight before him.

            “Sammy, go sit in the living room,” John said. He glanced up quickly, giving his son a stern look that neither would normally ignore without messing with his hand’s rhythm.

But this time, Sam did ignore it.

            “No! Come on! Dad!”

            “Ahhh! Ow! Stop, please!” Dean pleaded, embarrassed not just to be bare assed over his father’s lap, because really that was nothing new, but in front of Sammy? That hadn’t happened in years.

            “Dad! Your arm! You hurt it, remember! Please, stop!”

            “Samuel, my arm is just fine! You and your brother, however, seem to be having some memory problems. Did I, or did I not tell you to go?” John said, lecturing his youngest as he spanked his eldest. He hadn’t often done that, but in the end it had always resulted with both of them having spanked bottoms.

            “Did you two forget already what the rules are?” John said, striking at Dean’s thighs.

            “AH! NO! We know! We Know!”

Sam cringed, looking away from his father and brother.

            “Then why is Sam still standing here?”

            “Agh! Sammy! Go! Come on!”

            “Because this is crazy! We thought you were dead! You can’t spank us for that!”

John glanced up at Sam, stilling his hand for a moment. Dean was starting to sob over his lap, struggling wildly as it was.

            “Why are you being spanked, Dean?” he asked, hoping that his brother’s response would be answer enough to Sam.

            “Because I snapped at you! I was disrespectful and spoke out of turn. I, I accused you of doing this to us. About lying to us.”

            “That’s right, son. Sounds like the kind of things that you would have been spanked for before, wouldn’t you say?”

            “Yyes sir!”

            “You surprised to be in this position?”

            “No sir! Yes sir! I’m surprised you’re here?”

John smiled softly, tapping his hand on his eldest bottom once more before releasing his hold on him.

            “That’s right son. We’re done here.”

Dean stood up stiffly. Reaching down for the discarded towel and grimacing when he pulled it around himself once more. Then, his father was there again, holding him tightly and whispering to him and he just started to cry again.

Sam started to cry a little too. Just a few tears flowing down his face. For one, he really missed his father, but he had missed his brother more - and he had been with him the whole time. As he saw the two together, Dean sobbing and their father comforting him, it was such a calm scene, one that had played often throughout his life, that the reality of his father being back finally struck him.

            “It’s alright Dean. We’ll talk soon, and you’ll get your answers son. There’s some things that I’m not going to say, but that’s for your own good. I’m right here, buddy, and I’m sorry I haven’t been. Forgive me?”

Dean nodded. He could forgive his father anything, just having the man back meant the world to him. Not knowing a few things was a fine price to pay for having his father back.

            “Yes sir.”

            “Alright, bud. I want you to go on upstairs and finish your shower. Your brother and I have to set a few things straight and then we can all have some breakfast. How’s that sound?”

Dean looked at him and nodded. He turned and started to walk out of the kitchen. Passing by his brother, he gave him a sympathetic look, but he didn’t offer interference. He had needed his father’s presence and maybe the power behind the blows had helped him feel how real the man was or maybe it was just his guilt finally leaving him, but in the end the spanking has worked.

And it would work for Sammy.


            “Sam, I’m not telling you again, come here!”

Sam shook his head. Having witnessed the spanking, he had come full circle again in accepting that his dad was back.

And if Dean’s bottom was any factor to go on, he came back full strength. Which was kind of upsetting since the last time that he had seen his father alive he had not bothered to hold his tongue and had spewed a lot of bad things at him. But he had the grace of circumstance that his dad’s right arm was in a sling that he wouldn’t get into any trouble. Also, with Dean as bad off as he was…

            “Am I going to have to count now?”

Sam grimaced, shaking his head. He finally took the few steps forward and reached John’s side.

John did quick work of undoing his son’s pant string and tugging at the loose clothing to let it drop to his ankles. Sam groaned, readying to protest even before his briefs followed.

            “Dad! Come on, please.”

            “Sorry Sammy, but I only want to have to do this once.”

He eased his son over his lap and started with the spanking, coming down with hard slaps right at the center of the squirming bottom.

Sam groaned, dropping his head in disbelief. They hadn’t even been together with their father back a full hour and he had already paddled Dean’s butt and was quickly warming Sam’s.

            “Ow! Dad, please!”

            “Sammy, settle down! This will go a lot faster if you do,” John warned.

With Dean, it had been easier to light his backside because the unfinished shower had left the kid wet still and it had definitely helped in reinstating his position as his father. Sammy was proving to be harder and not just because he had skipped his shower and decided for breakfast instead.

            “You know not to fight me, son. You know that raising your vice to me is unacceptable.”

            “Ow! Okay! I’m sorry! Ow ow! You surprised us! I wasn’t ready!”

            “Ready? You need to be ready now to remember how to behave?”

            “No! NO sir!”

            “That’s right,” John said, landing a particularly hard swat to begin his next circuit of Sam’s now dusky pink skin. “You know how to behave and you know what’s expected of you! I shouldn’t have to be here for you to act like you were raised to act!”

            “I know! I’m sorry! Please, stop!”

            “I can’t believe half of the things I heard about you two! Going into a hot zone unprepared! Have you lost your mind?! Grieving is one thing, but acting foolish is something completely different and it’s not acceptable! Do you understand me?”

            “Yes! Dad, please! Ow, please, I understand!”

            “Good, then we’re almost done here.”

He wasn’t any harder on one boy than the other once he was finished and Sam sobbed over his lap and he looked his ‘handiwork’ over for a moment. It certainly wasn’t the worst either had received and it’d probably only be one of the memorable ones because of the circumstances.

He’d really let them off easy, seeing as how he was really just addressing the last few moments and not the past months.

            “Alright, Sammy boy. I’m done here, less you have something to say?’

Sammy shook his head, pushing himself to his feet. John grabbed his arm, helped him stand, and fix his clothing. Then, he just held Sam until he felt strong enough to stand up on his own again.

            “I’m so sorry, Dad. I’m sorry,” Sam sobbed, and it didn’t take a genius to know that he wasn’t apologizing for his little scene before.

            “Hey, don’t worry about it. What’s past is past, okay? Don’t worry too much about that.”

            “I shouldn’t of said all those things,” Sam added, shaking his head and leaning slightly away. “In the hospital, I’m sorry. I didn’t -

            “Sammy, you’re not listening to me again,” John said, maintaining his arms strong around his boy’s waist.

Sam blushed looking away.


            “Hey, what’d I just say, huh?”

 Sam cringed, looking up at him.

            “Now, we’ve got that out of the way, I’d say. Think we can move on forward?”

Sam smiled warmly and leaned back into the hug. He was still sniffling when he felt someone enter the kitchen.

            “Well, this is much better than all that hollering,” Bobby said heading straight for the coffee maker. He had stayed out as long as he could, but he really needed his fix. Besides, if he’d been early, it wouldn’t have been the first time he saw either boy getting their butt smacked. “Ya’ll kill Dean?”

John rolled his eyes, but luckily his eldest could be heard coming back down the stairs so he saved the smart comment for later.

            “I think we’re all set here. How about some breakfast then? Manage to save any toast there, Bobby?” John said, easily releasing Sam and grabbing the rest of what Sam had prepared.

Sam sniffed, wiping at his eyes as Dean entered. He looked up and smiled at the huge smile on his brother’s face. Even with his ass throbbing in misery, it was all more than worth it to have their father back.

As they all settled into the meal, they couldn’t keep their eyes off the man. He wasn’t just back, but he looked better than ever, stronger, determined.

There was no way that they weren’t going to bet this demon now. Not when they were together.