A/N: I love the Breakfast Club; I watch the movie whenever I can. I don't know if I will ever be able to really get the characters right but I have wanted to post this for awhile. Enjoy.

John Bender drove through the night; blood streamed down his face from his temple, and he felt like his world was spinning. It had always been bad at his house, but never this bad, it had been one thing when his mom had gotten drunk; she had just been a bitch that liked to slap him. But when John's dad was drunk John usually took off for the night and crashed either at the High School or under the bridge by the old farm. Anywhere but home was the best place to be when John's father was drunk.

He had come home late figuring his dad would be passed out, however his father had been extremely awake and in a very bad mood.

"Hey punk, where you been?"

John had not wanted to provoke the man, but he didn't want to answer either, so he just turned to head to his room.

"Hey you little ass hole, I was talking to you! I said, where the fuck have you been!"

John looked to his dad. Though he had heard this kind of language his whole life it still surprise him how nasty his dad's tongue was, "I was with my friends…"

"What friends? You don't have any friends." John's father said with a laugh.

"Like you would know." John snapped turning away and heading for his room.

"What did you say to me!" his father screamed stumbling after him.

John usually escaped with in an inch of his life when it came to his dad stumbling after him, but he didn't make it this time. John felt a hand take hold of his hair and he felt his head get shoved forward into the wall.

Stars and bright lights exploded before his eyes, though the feeling of pain didn't come quickly he was disoriented and he slid to the ground. His eyes grew wide as he tried to steady his vision.

"Now, next time I ask you something you better answer truthfully, and you better answer respectfully." With that his dad strutted away feeling much better about himself now that he had torn down his son.

Eventually Jon managed to stand, his mother slowly trudged by, "He hit you again?" she asked looking at him. She was in her pink fluffy robe, and she looked tired and worn. "Corse he did." John said angrily. "And what are you going to do about it?" He asked angrily already knowing the answer, "Nothing, not a god damn thing." He said. John looked at his mother who looked at her son regretfully. She reached up and John flinched, waiting for a slap, to his utter shock she simply and very gently placed a hand on his face, then moved a little bit of his hair out of his face, "I'm doing more then you think. Just wait." And with that she walked out towards the kitchen.

That was the first time she had ever talked to him like that and for a second John felt something inside him stir. What it was he wasn't sure, but he didn't linger on it.

He had at that point shuffled down the hall to his room and shut the door behind him. He leaned against the wall and looked at the only place he had come to consider safe in his whole life. The far corner of his room contained a mattress on the floor, with a comforter and a pillow.

Posters of bands, barely dressed women, and tie-dye designs covered the walls. The floor was littered with used cigarettes, empty soda cans, some candy bar wrappers, and even some small trace amounts of accidentally spilled pot. Dropped only because his father had been beating him when he had tried to conceal the small plastic bag.

He had a desk to the far left wall, it had a stereo and a toolbox full of tools and wires and other such things. John loved to take things apart and figure out how they worked, and it helped him to calm down too, when his temper got the better of him. He walked over to his closet, which had a door missing, and he forced the other one open as far as it would go. Inside his closet was a chest of drawers that held small amounts of clothes, (though John wore the same thing almost every day to conserve.) mismatched socks, a few packs of smokes, some beer and a little bit of pot that was left. John had reached for the pot and just as he was about to start wrapping and lighting up he heard a loud crash from the kitchen.

Normally John would have ignored it, but for some reason tonight he had a feeling he should go out there. He hid his pot back in his dresser and went to his door; he opened it and looked out back down the hall. He could hear screaming, and shouting. His folks were at it again, but this time it seemed more violent then angry. John slowly walked down the hall and passed through the living room and small disorderly dinning room and walked into the doorway of the kitchen.

He listened as his mother spoke quickly and nervously to his father, "That's right you piece of shit! I did it! I got a lawyer and I got the papers. I'm leaving and I'm taking John and we are going! No more of your shit, no more of this hellish nightmare you call a good life!"

John's eyes grew wide, he stopped leaning and stood up straight not believing his ears. For the first time, in his entire life he felt something ignite in his chest, and it burned a powerful fire in his stomach. What was it? John had thought. And now he knew, it was hope.

"You can't leave you whore, I own the house, and I own the car and I own the money!"

John looked to his mom; this had always kept her from leaving before. Not having anywhere to go, not being able to survive.

But she didn't look phased, "I opened a separate account last year, I been saving half of MY paycheck and putting it away so you couldn't spend it on your booze and women. I have enough money to put John and I up for at least four or five months. But that doesn't matter; we are going to stay with my mother until this is sorted out. Then, I am going back to college… I'm going to finish my studies, I am going to get my PHD, and then you lonesome piece of shit, and I am sending John to college. He is gunna make something of himself! Unlike you, you lazy, ugly, sloppy, ignorant, slug!"

At this point John hadn't believe his ears, his mother had always backed down from his father, and she had always cowered and squirmed away from him. She had always played like she agreed with him to keep from getting hit. But tonight, tonight she had been brave, she had been assertive and for a moment John's father had looked scared and worried.

But then, John's dad had looked so angry John swore his left nut had disappeared. "Your mother!? Your mother hates you, you little bitch! And where do you think you get the right, the nerve to do this to me! You would break this family apart just so you can be selfish and go back to college?"

"I am NOT breaking this family apart Rick, I am breaking John and I away from you. I am going to give MY son the life he has always deserved and you are not going to be a part of it, and you will never see him again." Just then the two jerked their heads to the doorway, John had felt like he was alone on a stage and thousands were waiting for him to do something.

"Well, if it isn't mama's precious baby boy… go on SON… tell your mother she is crazy. Tell her she got no right to split this family apart."

John looked to his mom, and then to his dad, and then once more back to his mom. He had always wanted to go away, but he had never imagined he would want to escape this hell WITH his mother. She looked different somehow, something had changed about her, and she seemed to be glowing with power, energy. She had hit him, even beat him before, cursed at him, and made him bleed. She had had the potential to be worse then her husband, but something was different now, and he wanted to know what.

John walked to stand next to his mother, he took her hand and swallowed, "If she goes, I go." John said. He felt his mother squeeze his hand. They both looked at the lone man standing next to the table, beer in his hand. He looked like he was in a stupor.

"You can't do this Wendy, we are married, and in the eyes of God that means…"

"Don't you even talk to me about God Rick. For the last eighteen years you have hit me, and you have hit John. You have set a horrible example and yet somehow John has turned out into a fine young man. You manipulated me, mentally abused me and forced so many things upon me that I didn't want… I am tired of this hellhole. I want love, and I want a clean beautiful house, and I want a well paying job and I want a son that is proud of his parents and happy to be alive. And you can't give me any of that… so I am just going to have to make it myself."

She stared him down, she never wavered and for a moment John thought his father was actually going to back down.

"And what about you Wendy? It isn't like you've NEVER laid a hand on him… you're know where near the perfect parent. What makes you think leaving here will make you change so much. You hate the kid more then me."

John's eyes grew wide and he almost dropped his mother's hand. "Thing's have changed Rick, I've also been going to counseling and I've learned that I beat John because I couldn't beat you. After all, he does bare a sticking resemblance. I've realized my mistakes and I am going to try to fix them. I am going to try to make it up to him. I am going to ask him for forgiveness and if he thinks I deserve it… he will give it to me.

"It's been a long time since you shown so much backbone women… your gunna regret it by the time morning comes." John's dad had then launched himself past the table and had aimed for his wife. John however instantly threw himself in front of her and was greeted by a fist to his gut.

For a moment there was silence, and then shuffling and then screaming from his mother. Though John couldn't breath he forced himself up, his father had been dragging his mother down the hall towards the bedroom. "No! Rick let go of me!" John had heard her scream. "We are leaving! I won't change my mind even if you whip me!"

John was sure of it, his mother had finally had enough. And if she made it out of here alive tonight then she was going to take John away.

"Shut up you little bitch! I'm gunna fix you tonight! Nice and hard!" John forced himself forward and down the hall towards his parent's bedroom. "No! please! Rick! Stop!" John was sprinting down the hall but he didn't make it. The bedroom door was slammed shut and though John twisted the knob and slammed his shoulder into the door and kicked at it, it would not budge.

He put his ear to the door and heard the ripping of cloths and his mother softly crying. His father mumbling something under his breath, "No! NO!" John screamed. He had refused to let his father get his way, especially like this.

John ran through the house and out into the garage, he grabbed his father's axe and ran back towards his parent's room.

The screaming was so loud he almost wanted to drop the axe and cover his ears. But he refused to give up, not when he and his mother were so close to getting out. He slammed the door over and over, faster and harder with each scream he heard. Then with a mighty kick with his foot the door flew open and wood shattered all over.

He looked in, to see his father standing next to the bed. John's mother was naked down to her waist, and her hands were tied around one of the bedposts. Her legs were tucked up underneath herself and she buried her hands in her arms. John stood in shock as he looked upon his mother, so many cuts and knicks and scars covered her back, it had almost matched his own.

John looked to his father, who was raising his belt again. "You son of a bitch!" his dad yelled, "You are going to pay for a new door! Go to your room and wait there, or you will be next."

John didn't hesitate, he sprang forward and swung the axe, the blunt end came crashing down on his father's head. And then he watched as his father leaned for a second and fell to the floor.

He stared at the crumpled wreck that was his dad, and for a moment he couldn't believe what he had just done. Then he heard movement and looked to his mom. "John, untie me before he wakes up!"

John slowly dropped the axe and crawled to his mom, "I don't think he is waking up mom."

His mother didn't speak for a moment, "We will worry about that later. Come on." As soon as her hands were free she pulled her robe back up over her naked body and took John's hands.

"See I told you I was working on it. It just took me a lot longer then it should have."

"How did this all happen?"

"It's a long story."

"Well now we got all the time in the world to just sit and… talk." He said, John and his mother had froze and looked right at each other. "Go get the car keys and meet me in the garage. Have it running. You'll have to drive… I'm in no shape." John nodded and got up quick, "Oh and John grab anything that you will want to take with you… we won't be coming back…" He nodded and ran towards his room quick.

John entered his room and grabbed a old tattered black book bag. He started to grab a few things and then crossed to his dresser, when he opened it he reached for the pot, but then stopped. He looked at the rolled bag and for a instant almost decided to take it. But in the end he grabbed it and threw it in the garbage. He could always get more, but for right now, he didn't need that shit. He wasn't in pain and he didn't need that kind of escape right now.

About an hour went by, they were both packet, though neither had much to their name. And John had never felt happier in his life, aside from when he was with Claire. Just then the thought occurred to him, "Mom, if we are leaving, I mean, where does your mother… uh grandma…. live?"

"At the other end of town, you will still go to the same school, and eventually when we move away from mother I hope we can stay here. But I have to take care of your father first."

"He's dead ma…" John said sounding distant. "I… I think I killed the poor bastard…I hit him so hard…"

His mother rushed over, "Now John, I know I have been the world's crappiest mother. I won't disagree if you or anyone else claims that. But what you did was out of self defense, though I don't think you can kill a cockroach with one hit, if he is dead, we will call the cops, and we will tell them everything, even if we have to go so far as to tell them a lie. You won't go to jail for protecting your mother and yourself."

John looked into his mother's eyes, "What happened to you mom… you're so different…"

John's mother had sighed and said, Let's get to the car and get the hell out of here first." John nodded and grabbed both their bags. They walked out of the old house together.

Now here he was, driving the black Blazer down the road towards the police station. He was covered in his own blood, his mother was beside him and they were talking. His world was upside down with someone that seemed so foreign.

"It was sometime last year." His mother started, your father had had another one of his fits, I watched him take it out on you, then later in the bedroom when I confronted him about it he had taken it out on me."

"You defended me?"

"I did it all the time, but never in front of you. False hope can kill a person."

John looked down wondering exactly how much his mother actually cared for him.

"The next day after your father had… vented… I went to the bank and set up a separate account. I knew it probably wouldn't stay secret for long knowing your father but I just wanted a little hope, a little something that would allow me to believe I could save myself… and save you."

John felt tears rising to his eyes but he was the man in the family now, and he refused to cry, "Go on." He said.

"Well, months passed, and he didn't find out. I finally had enough hope to go to a lawyer, I found the best one that I couldn't afford and told him everything. I told him I would work the rest of my life to pay him back if that is what it took to separate myself from my husband and get full custody of you. He took my case and also offered to set me up in rehab. He claimed it would make me the stable, and safer parent. Easier to get the judge, the jury to take my side."

"What you need Rehab for?"

His mother had looked so sad and upset, "Booze and drugs… if you haven't noticed I am actually getting the color back in my skin. My hair is looking stronger and healthier. I feel much better and I can actually think clearly."

"What drug?" John asked looking slightly angry.

"Your father got me started on it, I swear it was to make me docile and easy to control… I only realized it after it was all out of my system."

"What drug ma?" John asked again.

"Heroin, a bit of crystal… what ever he could get to keep me quiet and knock me out. Keep me from standing up for you or myself. He wanted a trophy wife who would just sit there and be a pretty little bed mistress… he didn't want a wife, and he didn't want you. But that is a different story altogether."

John nodded, he wanted to hear it, in fact he had thousands of questions but he needed to know the end of this story first.

"So, what happened next?"

"Well…" his mom froze for a second and looked out the window, she bit her lip and sighed, for a moment John thought of Claire again and how she always bit her lip. Maybe now he could tell his mother about her! Maybe Claire could finally meet one of his parents. She had been asking for so long.

"I've met someone John."

He turned to his mother and said, "Who?" it was the simplest question he had asked but it seemed to take her forever to respond.

"His name is Richard."

John pulled to a halt at the stop sign that was just across the streets from the station and turned to his mother. He knew a lot of Dicks, plenty. But he wondered if this Dick was going to be anything like the other Dicks he knew. A certain principal coming to mind.

"Is he going to…" John couldn't finish, he turned back and bent his head, and he looked down at his gloved but bloody hands. A frail female hand came to rest on his own, "John," His mother said.

He looked up and she held up her left hand, on her ring finger was a small diamond ring. "I lied to your father, my mother wouldn't have me… but Richard will. He wants to marry me. He knows I have a son, he's never seen you though, it occurred to me last month that I have no pictures of you." John saw the tears in his mother's eyes at the thought. "But he wants to help us… I said yes. If you will have him I know he will be the father to you that Rick never was."

John looked into his mother's eyes, all these years he had been looking out for himself, raising himself, never once did he think that maybe the nights his father DIDN'T beat him was because his mother had taken it for him.

As of three hours ago, John had no one but the breakfast club, no future to aim for, and no hope forever marrying Claire and raising a family of his own. But now, looking into his mother's eyes he saw a future taking shape, a possible hope for something better. And he wanted that more now then ever. He wanted to be able to look Claire in the eyes and say to her, 'you can count on me princess…' now he could.

He leaned over and hugged his mother, the first time in years, maybe even forever that he had been hugged back by an adult. It was strange and slightly awkward for him, but deep down he liked it.

A/n: I know it's slightly OOC. But I have no clue how John would really act in this circumstance, and I am sure that the dude who wrote the book and the script and stuff for breakfast club had no intention of making John's family really this bad. But this is my story. Chapter two on the way. R&R