What if someone they knew was also in that jail?
Sam and Dean sat in the prison cafeteria finishing their lunch. Dean thought the chicken wasn't half bad, but Sam thought it was disgusting. He pushed his towards Dean.
"So, this Moody guy is suspect number one for our vengeful spirit?" Sam asked.
"Yeah, he died of a heart attack which is what all the other victims have died from and he was housed in the old cell block which they just reopened," Dean explained once again.
"Are you sure?" Sam asked for the hundredth time. He hated being in here. He was so afraid they wouldn't be able to get out.
"Pretty sure," Dean answered.
"Well, considering our circumstances I'm going to need better than pretty sure," Sam responded.
"Really pretty sure," Dean smiled. Then he noticed that Sam really did seem agitated. He didn't realize that this job was going to bother him so much. "Look we'll be out of here two days tops. I promise. We just have to find out what Moody left behind and destroy it."
"OK, well let's get to work," Sam said and pushed his chair back and stood up. Dean did the same and started to walk out ahead of Sam. The disgusting lunch once again caught Sam's eye and he looked back at it and ended up running into one of the other prisoners.
"Oh, I'm sorry," he said, not wanting to cause any trouble.
"Why don't you look where you're going?" the other prisoner demanded angrily.
"Right, I will," Sam said, wanting to appease the grizzled, experienced prisoner.
"He said he was sorry," Dean said coming over to protect his brother.
"Dean," Sam warned. He didn't want Dean causing any trouble either. He just wanted in and out as quickly as possible. To his surprise the other prisoner turned around and walked away.
"That's the way you have to talk to these guys. Instant respect," Dean informed Sam. He didn't intend to be here more than a couple of days, but wanted to make sure Sam wasn't going to let himself get pushed around.
"You were saying," Sam said as he noticed the guy he bumped into coming back towards them with three other guys. The first guy swung at Dean, who evaded it and twisted his arm behind his back. "We can end this right now, no harm, no foul," Dean said, whispering into his ear.
Lucas, the instigator, considered for a moment, but knew that he couldn't do it. He was top dog in this place and if he let this smart-alec newcomer show him up he would lose all respect. He kicked out at Dean got out of the hold and managed to land a punch to Dean's stomach. That was all they had time for before the guards showed up.
"What's your name?" Deacon asked Dean, even though he knew full well what it was. He hadn't expected these guys to get in trouble here. They were here to do a job and escape, but if he showed them preferential treatment, it would look suspicious and he could lose his job, or worse yet, end up an inmate here.
"Winchester," Dean answered.
"Well, Winchester, you're not off to a very good start." He hated to do it, but he took his nightstick and jammed it into Dean's stomach. It's what he would have done to any other inmate. "Take them to solitary," he told the other guard.
Dean looked at Sam and said, "Are we having fun yet?"
Sam rolled his eyes and looked around the room. This room was now full of enemies that Dean had made for him.
SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS
Dean was in the tiny solitary cell across from Lucas. He decided to maybe try and make amends.
"I wish I had a baseball," he said.
"I wish I had a bat so I could bash your head in," Lucas answered angrily.
"OK, so much for bonding in solitary," Dean said to himself. It was going to be a long night. He sighed and noticed that his breath was foggy. He got out and looked out through the bars at the clock. It stopped. All the signs of a ghost showing up. Not good.
"Lucas, stay still," he instructed the other guy.
"Why? What's going on?" Lucas asked. But before Dean could answer him, he heard Lucas screaming and knew it was too late. Two guards came rushing in and Dean could hear them opening the other cell.
"Oh well, just another dead scum bag," he heard one of them say.
Dean blamed himself for this one. If he hadn't gotten into that fight, maybe they would have found the remains and burned them by now and Lucas would still be alive.
SSSSSSSSSSSSSSS
Sam was given his work assignment—cleaning the bathrooms. Could be worse, he thought to himself. He was partnered with another inmate.
"How you doing?" Sam asked as they were mopping up.
"I'm 45 years old and mopping the floor of a crapper with bars on the walls. How do you think I'm doing?" Randall answered bitterly.
"Sorry. Bad ice breaker," Sam apologized. "My name's Sam."
"I'm Randall."
Sam couldn't believe his luck. "Weren't you the one that was there when that guard died?"
"Yeah," Randall said. He didn't want to talk about it. Weird crap was happening in this jail.
"What happened?" Sam asked.
"They say the stress of the job got him," Randalal answered shortly.
This guy knew something. Sam could tell. "What do you say?" he asked.
"Why are you in here kid?" Randall asked instead.
"I've got an idiot for a brother," Sam responded as the door to the bathroom opened and a prisoner entered. Sam looked up and couldn't believe his eyes.