And here is the Prologue you've all been patiently waiting for! I still am not writing chapters for this regularly, so the most you might get is the first chapter in a day or so as more of a "teaser" of sorts.
Hope you enjoy!
In the three years he hadn't seen his brother, this wasn't how Sam Winchester imagined he'd get back in touch with Dean. Especially not that "insignificant" detail where the reconnection was being monitored.
"How you doing, Sammy?"
Despite the sharp glares watching his every move, Sam rolled his eyes. "C'mon Dean, it's Sam. Sammy was a chubby twelve-year-old. How many times do I have to say it? I'm in college now."
"Well, some things never change. Speaking of, how's college goin'?"
"Classes are great. There are several Familiars that I have to study with."
"That's why you were always the better student." The table Sam sat at vibrated as one of the men scribbled furiously on a lined notepad and slid it over to him. "But your study habits explain a lot."
Across the pad the words were scribbled in purple sharpie: Ask to visit or Get Location.
It must have been the most on hand thing they could find in terms of stationery supplies. He wanted to scoff and tell them to go fuck themselves, but Dean would actually come here to kill him if he did. He'd ruin everything just to tell Sam how incredibly stupid an action like that would be, costing him his many scholarships at Stanford; and however long they wanted him to rot in prison or jail.
"Jess has been pulling my leg on when you'll be over here. She really wants to meet you."
"You know I can't Sammy," Again, with the name. "I don't fit well with college Familiars and frat boys."
"Then what are you doing right now?"
"I was fixing up my baby before my little nerd brother decided to call me. Couple days ago some jackass decided that he couldn't control his shit car on a sheet of ice. Ended up hitting a few parked vehicles."
The pad was shoved in front of his face: Get on with it
Sam shot them his best bitch face that spelled out: then you do it.
He watched them with deep satisfaction when a few of them groaned into their hands.
It's not like Dean didn't already know there were Federal agents breathing down his brother's neck. Those idiots were just being strung along by now.
"At least you don't have long 'till spring. The ice that bad up there?" The Feds perked up at this.
"It's hell on earth here in good ol' Alaska. Though it's better here at Fort Yukon. It was pretty okay back in Chicken last week. I mean, you can't name a town Chicken without having some fun."
Sam chuckled, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Jesus, Dean."
"Anyway, I think I might start North again, maybe even climb a mountain."
"Yeah, sure. And Dean?"
"Whasup?"
"Actually send me a postcard this time."
"Gotcha. Good hearin' from you Sammy." The inevitable goodbye. Feds listening to his brother's voice for far too long.
"Yeah, yeah. It was good hearing from you too." His voice dropped off at the end.
When the call ended, Sam pulled the cord attaching his phone that linked to a computer across from him. He knew Dean would be cussing everything out by now. That Ash -whoever he was- would be trying to get him to shut up as he ran a few more things through the system. To be extra sure the Feds didn't pick up their trail, and a few extra bonuses for when the Agents ran off to the 49th state. It was Dean who had made the no talking rule. That was why Sam was trying to get a burner phone to open up the lines of communication once more. The FBI knocking at his door at 5:40 this morning ruined just about everything. Including any hope of a decent mood.
Sam kept his eyes downcast, tracing the grain of the table below him. It was also at 5:43 this morning that Federal Agents proceeded to drag Sam from his on-campus apartment, stick him in the back of a cruiser and bring him to the local station. Thank God most of them left the room now. Sam set his face in his hands, fingers threading into the start of his hairline. To anyone, it looked as if he was drowning in guilt for betraying his brother. No, he knew Dean would be fine. Contrary to popular belief, Dean was actually pretty fucking sharp. Sam at this moment was overwhelmed with grief. A deep-settling despair for his, and his brother's lives. That this event even had to take place. That it was even a possibility.
Like always, he'd call Bobby after. But that came later. When there were no more Feds in the room to overhear his personal life.
"You should be proud, Samuel." The only lingering Agent stepped behind him.
Sam hated this bastard the most.
"You've done your country a favor," Agent Henriksen continued. "You've served her well."
He couldn't keep his mouth shut anymore. Sam's fist met the table with an echoing bang. "No, no I didn't. Dean served this country. You Feds are ridiculous, upholding the 'thank the service men and women' and here you are. You're hunting a Marine."
"Two ex-Marines. That's if you count daddy dearest, of course." Victor Henriksen leaned in close. Uncomfortably close. "And if you've forgotten, murderer's aren't protected by the US Marines. SEALS won't back him either. Or Airforce. Navy, Army. Hell the National Guard won't touch your brother with a ten-foot pole."
"They never proved that," Sam croaked in exasperation.
"Dishonorable discharge is proof enough in my case." This guy just wouldn't give it a rest. "Besides, I thought you and your brother weren't getting along?"
No contact doesn't mean that, you pushy son of a bitch. It took self-control that Sam was slowly losing to hold the comment in.
"Bonnie and Clyde were turned in by someone they trusted, maybe even considered family." Henriksen stepped to the side of the table so he was in Sam's line of sight. He set his hands on the wood. "Did you hear that he was found with the bodies of the platoon he was in charge of?"
"That doesn't mean anything." Sam cried. He dropped his head into his large hands once more.
"Criminals like your brother have been brought in for less. Hell, Capone was arrested for not paying his taxes."
"How are you even comparing my brother to a mobster and two romantic outlaws?"
"How are you not?" Victor rounded the table, staring straight on at Sam from the other side. "You brother is unfit for our society, Samuel, just like Al Capone. He's a tough bastard to catch, but he's no special case. He will trip up, and when he does," Henriksen leaned over, getting his face up close to Sam's. "I'll be there to watch him burn." Satisfied, Agent Henriksen backed up. His grin reminded Sam of a prowling wolf that knows its prey has no hope. Nowhere to run. A grin that came with the thrill of a chase.
Sam kept his mouth shut.
Victor nodded, grin still plastered on his face. He turned sharply and made his way to the door.
"But there's always one thing that people forget about Capone,"
"What's that?" Henriksen turned, hand still wrapped around the knob.
Sam glared up at the mountain of a man. Henriksen just didn't understand who the bigger man in the room was. "Capone had it out for the mobs that did him wrong."
Maybe, just maybe they weren't talking about Al Capone and the prohibition at all. Either way, Henriksen wasn't walking off.
"The little grannies that walked into the auto shops to hand their husbands' lunch, received nothing but respect from the gang members. You could even call them gentlemen."
Sam received the reaction he'd hoped for: the slam of the interrogation room door.
He'd wait a little bit before he left.
His phone buzzed on the table. Sam wasn't stupid either, he knew Henriksen lingered on the other side of the tinted sheet of glass.
"Hey, Jess." He greeted. "No, no, I'm fine. Everything's alright." He needed to think about getting rid of another phone. His current one was still under warranty. If he accidentally dropped it, hands full of books, a replacement wouldn't cost much.
"Nothing to worry about, it was a false alarm. Everything's fine."
The Federal Bureau of Investigation could go to hell. While they were at it, they could take that Azazel and Alastair bastards with them.
"Everything's okay."
God, he hoped they'd be.