Title: Crimes of Innocent Men
Rating: PG
Pairing: none
Spoilers: Kind of for Skin, but this is set post-series.
Disclaimer: I don't own the boys, watch me cry. I promise I'm not making any money off of this so don't sue me.

I remember the day that the war ended. I was too young to have taken part in any of the battles; my family had already lost enough to the war. Because I was so young and hadn't seen any fighting, I was considered lucky. My family also made sure I attended as many of the trials as possible so that I would understand what happened to my brothers, my father, my aunts and uncles.

By the time I reached my majority they had finally captured the Winchester brothers, their trial date was scheduled for the same day I turned eighteen. The elders of our town shook their heads and clucked their tongues, sadness and shame crossing their features. The world had changed from the old days, one day the earth had opened and Hell and flown loose. Everyone, seemingly overnight, learned about Hunters and their abilities. Parents began apprenticing out children while doing their best to learn new skills to help them all survive.

My gran knew the Winchesters; she'd gone to school with the younger one. They'd saved my great-uncle. No one could have known that he'd be one of the first dragged off by the demons. The new magistrate system swore up and down that the Winchesters were the biggest war criminals of all - they had known for years that the war was coming. The elder had known that the younger was a key in the Demon's plans yet had harbored and sheltered him. Neither man had told anyone of what was to come. Not, gran grumbled, that anyone would have listened. Then.

Now was a different story altogether. We knew that our worst nightmares lurked just under the surface of our normal lives. None of us would ever be innocent again. I couldn't fathom a time when gold was more precious than salt, when silver was just a metal worn as decoration.

Still, my gran and my eldest sister were adamant that I attended the trial for the Winchesters. They were older now, more worn but I could pick them out right away by their smooth gait and the way their eyes scanned the area. The taller of the two was in shackles, his face wry with the irony. They had saved the world. They had killed the Demon. This was their reward.

The older brother wasn't handcuffed, he looked beaten and broken. His eyes were blank, I was certain it was only his long career as a Hunter and his need to protect his brother that kept him alert and aware. I wondered if the judges had found anyone to speak on the Winchester's behalf. If they hadn't then this trial would be nothing but a sham. Their so-called crimes would be read and there wouldn't be anyone to refute the claims. Gran had mentioned that the FBI, although long disbanded, had had a thick file on the brothers. In fact, the elder brother still had a warrant out on him for attacking my gran.

I took my seat as the judges took their places on the pew that was set aside for them. The magistrate appointed lawyer looked out of place and way too nervous. I almost felt sorry for the man. Then I remembered that he was here to condemn these men, men who had saved my family. I wondered why gram hadn't come forward as a witness for them; perhaps she felt that her voice wouldn't help. Trials now weren't necessarily fairer, they were just more popular.

I glanced at the Winchesters. Sam, the taller one, glared defiantly at the gathered crowd while Dean stared at the ground in front of him. I wondered if my testimony would mean anything. Since I was near the back of the courtroom I couldn't hear what Sam was saying, his voice was a low rumble. He would glance at Dean for confirmation of what he was saying, but the elder Winchester didn't seem to be paying attention.

After three days of the trial, the judges were ready to announce their decision. I had listened to what I could, but being so far away I was missing large portions of the proceedings. I had gathered from the newsletters being passed around that the Winchesters were being tried for treason as well as all the assorted petty crimes that had been assigned to them before the war. Treason for not warning humanity about the Demon and his chosen children. For hiding what we hadn't wanted to see. But, and perhaps most damning, for being better Hunters than the rest of us. I wanted to laugh at that, yes; we should punish them for being our saviors.

None of us gathered for the trial doubted what the punishment would be. They would be branded traitors and then hanged by the neck until dead. Wasting ammunition on such as these? That would be the real crime. I didn't know if I should laugh or cry when the announcement was finally made. Sam had lurched forward, his face purpling with anger as he shouted about injustice. He would know, my gram said that he had been in school to be a lawyer.

Dean reached out and placed a hand on Sam's arm, just a light touch and Sam fell silent. The older brother had a small smile hovering at the corners of his mouth, like he never expected anything different. I hear he used to be a charmer, a real devil. In the old sense of the word. My body made the decision for me, the laughter bubbled away and hot, heavy tears stung my eyes. It wasn't right to do this. I knew it wasn't right. But what could be done? Justice had spoken.

I remember when the Demon died and Hell swallowed itself up again. When all that was left were the lesser terrors, when humanity began to mend its tattered pride. I'll never forget the day we gave up what vestiges of humanity that we had left when we sentenced the Winchester brothers to death. We were wrong about that, but sometimes it takes more than the knowledge of what's right to make a change.

My gram wept openly on the morning of their execution. I refused to, it didn't seem right that I should grieve when I had remained silent. The chill in the morning air had burned off by noon, but we were all still waiting for the hangman and his deputies to march the Winchester brother's out to the erected scaffolding. There was little noise, just the shuffling of bodies and the harsh cries of carrion birds.

By the time the sun began to set the judges came out and announced that the execution was no longer to be public. My heart pounded sharply with hope that perhaps the decision had been repealed. The blacked robed figured dashed that hope with their next words: the Winchesters would be taken care of at midnight, at a cross roads, then their bodies would be salted and burned so their spirits couldn't bother any one. Cowards and fools, I thought viciously. The judges were black crows afraid of their own shadows and of men who were old but still virile, men who were far better than the ones who sat in judgment of them.

The air hissed out from between my teeth, from both pain and shock. My gram had grabbed my arm and her grip was bruising. I looked at her, wondering what she was thinking. She pulled my head close to her and whispered in my ear, "they've gotten away, they're free." I didn't believe it then. I'm not sure I do now.

I do know that their names became legends in the long years that followed. In remote areas if you're bad, the brothers Winchester will come for you and drag you off to Hell. However, in the north, they tell a different story. If you fight for what you should, if you're loyal to your family, then one day the brothers Winchester will come and take you away in their sleek black car. You'll go where only the best Hunters are allowed, where you can be safe.

I know which story I like best.