AN: The prompt for this story was Eyewitnesses; perhaps a literal interpretation of the word but it was the strongest idea that popped into my head. There could be another chapter to this story, the idea's there but I'm not sure if I can make it happen. Either way I hope you enjoy.

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters from Supernatural

No Justice for the Dead

"Sir, can you tell me what you saw?"

Sam couldn't count the number of times he'd asked that question over the years; pretending to be: local Police, FBI, Federal Marshals, State Troopers, Park Rangers, hell even security employees. Whatever it took to get the answers they'd need to finish the hunt. Each role had been as easy to slip into as the last; it was part of the life to pretend he was someone else. He'd wished more than once that he was permanently someone else. But life had proven to Sam that a Winchester was all he'd ever be.

It felt odd to be on the other side of the question; odd and dangerous. It'd been less than a year since they'd been declared dead by Victor Henrickson but they were still playing it safe. The last thing either of them needed with the world coming to an end was to have the law on their tail again.

"Sir?" the officer spoke again reaching out to touch Sam's shoulder.

Instincts kicked in and Sam's head shot up; his feet shifting on the rough concrete side stepping the unwanted contact. "Sorry," he apologized allowing a nervous smile to pass across his lips. "Um, what was the question?"

"Can you tell me what you saw?" the man asked again, pen poised over his notepad.

Sam looked down the road where the majority of the flashing lights still clustered around the crime scene. He'd witnessed it all as the attack had gone down; felt powerless that he hadn't been able to stop it. He shouldn't have even been there but Dean had been late meeting up with him. "I didn't see much," lying came as easily to Sam as breathing. "I heard the shot, by the time I looked up the guy was already running away."

"Did you get a good look at him?"

Sam knew he could have picked the man out of a lineup easily. "I think he was around 5'10" stocky build, short brown hair with a black goatee." He paused for a moment as the police officer scribbled hurriedly into his notes. "He had a tattoo on the side of his neck," Sam continued pointing to the left side of his neck.

Sam glanced back towards the crime scene where the coroner was just now removing the girl's body. She hadn't stood a chance and Sam couldn't help but wonder if in a few years time she would be another of the spirits he and Dean had to hunt. She deserved justice for the life she'd lost.

"Do you remember any details of the tattoo?" the officer asked then, glancing back up at Sam's face.

The least he could do was offer a strong enough description that the police could actually find the man responsible. "I'm pretty sure it was a wolf," he said. Movement over the man's right shoulder caught Sam's attention and he saw Dean standing outside of the parameter. Hazel met green and even from that distance the message got across.

'We need to go.'

Sam sighed; he knew it was true. "That's all I know," he lied again, though he was sorely tempted to say more. If he helped the police now might he be able to save Irene the pain of wandering the Earth looking for revenge? "Can I go?" he asked, eyes flickering again to his brother.

"I'll need your contact information, in case we need to call you in for a lineup," the man explained flipping to a new page in his notepad.

"Sure, Ethan Tanner," the name was the first that popped into his head. "Number's 555-4362," the number was legit but from a few years back.

"Alright," the man nodded his thanks, "We'll be in touch."

Sam watched the man walk away; his hand clenched into a fist as he looked around for any other possible eyewitnesses the police might have been speaking too. But wasn't surprised to see there was no one but bystanders lining the edge of the police tape. He sighed again finally forcing his feet to cross the distance to where Dean waited.

"What the hell happened?" Dean asked raising the police tape so Sam could duck under it; he still had to nearly bend double to fit.

Sam felt the eyes of onlookers watching them intently and he pushed his brother forward. "Not here," he said softly, hazel eyes focusing in on the Impala where she sat patiently waiting.

The younger Winchester leaned back listening to the rumble of the Impala; the familiar sound couldn't erase the equally familiar memory of the gunshot shattering the night. "I think she was leaving him," he began remembering clearly just how scared she'd looked when the man had screamed her name. "It was over before it'd even begun, he just shot her."

"There was nothing you could do Sam," Dean pointed out glancing across the car at him.

"Nothing I could do," he agreed, "but I can make sure he pays for it."

Dean stared at him for a moment. "In case you've forgotten we're both supposed to be dead," he said bluntly. "We can't get involved in this," it was the harsh truth.

Sam nodded angrily looking out the window only to see his reflection staring back at him. "There's no justice for the dead..." Sam muttered bitterly.

Thanks for Reading!

Morganeth Taren'drel