Supernatural: Folsom Prison Blues
A/N: I'm back! So, this is a one-shot, but I hope you all enjoy it, and trust me, it wasn't easy to write as a one-shot.
Read, review, and enjoy!
Disclaimer: I don't own anything from Supernatural or Criminal Minds; I just own the characters that I happen to create.
PRISON TROUBLE
"To open the blind eyes, to bring out the prisoners from the prison, and them that sit in darkness out of the prison house."
Isaiah 42:7
Green River County Detention Center
Little Rock, Arkansas…
In the courtyard, the inmates were playing basketball, cards, working out, and simply standing around talking while the guards kept tabs on them.
In a different part of the center, there were construction workers in a cell block, and one of them was using a blowtorch on a sealed door in order to open it as two more workers walk up.
"Well, this makes a lot of sense, first they close down the cell block and now they open it back up again," one of the workers complained. "Here's your tax dollars at work huh?"
They arrived at the door that was being opened with the blowtorch, and the complaining construction worker handed his flashlight to the second worker.
"Here."
The welder stopped and stood back a bit.
"You got that ready?" he asked and got a nod; he then pulled hard on the door and, when the welder helped with a crowbar, the door finally gave and opened. Both construction workers walked in and looked around with their flashlights.
"Yikes!" he muttered, noting the condition of the cell. "I would've hated to gotten thrown in here." Just then, the air went cold, their next breaths were visible from the temperature drop, and a breath exhaling was heard. "Hey you feel that man?"
The second worker looked at him with confusion; another breath was heard, and the first worker moved sideways as his eyes went wide like something was pushing past him. Then out in the hallway outside the cell that they were in a wind blew papers off the table there.
"Whoa, what was that?" the welder asked.
That night, one of many cameras panned across another cell block that had inmates in it.
A man in his late fifties, Randall was reading a book on his bed, and the lights began to flicker above his bed; he looked out into the hall and saw that the lights out there were flickering too. Concerned, he got up and made his way to the door of his cell, looking out through the small window filled with prison bars; the clock up on the wall ticked loudly, and then stopped abruptly. Just then, a figure moved past the bars outside of the cell and Randall moved back from the window.
"Oh…" he moaned, realizing it was happening again; he then moved back to the window in his cell door, and looked up at the camera, trying to get the guards attention. 'Its' back again…I just know it!' "Hey! Hey guard! Hey!"
In the guardroom, the surveillance cameras showed a grid of four cameras, and the one on Randall's cell was in the top left corner of the grid, and it was flickering with static, while the others were staying stationary. The guard on duty, was reading something off of a clipboard and chewing some food; he caught the movement of Randall's hands between the bars of his cell door and turned on the speaker, hearing Randall's yells."
`"Come on guard!"` Randall shouted, scared. `"Hey! Guard! Hey! Hey!"`
Sighing, the guard reached for the radio attached to his shoulder. "Going down to B block. Randall again."
`"Copy that,"` said a second guard.
Sighing again, the guard got up and walked out.
"Hey! Guard!" Randall shouted. "Hey!"
"Shut up old man!" one of the inmates shouted.
"Come on Randall, I'm trying to sleep," another inmate shouted.
Randall glared down the hallway. "You tellin' me you didn't see that?! What are you blind?! Hey!"
Just then, a nightstick slammed against the door of Randall's cell causing him to jump back, just barely avoiding getting his nose broken.
"Randall, cool it," the guard ordered.
Randall shook his head. "Cool it my ass, man, there's somebody out there."
"Randall turn out your light and go to sleep," the guard ordered. "I'm not gonna say it again."
Disappointed, Randall nodded his head and back away into his cell; he made his way back to his bed, scratching his head as the guard watched. He then shut off the light after he lied down.
Satisfied, the guard turned away from the cell door, and spoke into his radio at his shoulder again. "Lights out B block."
`"Copy that, lights out."`
The lights went out, and the guard made his way out of cell block B; as he walked, a figure with stringy hair started to follow closely behind him. Sensing something, the guard turned around, but no one was there; slightly unnerved, he continued toward the exit and it was then that the guard could see his own breath when there was a drop in the temperature.
Startled, he turned around again and there was still nothing there; he was standing in the doorway of the cell block and the iron door suddenly slammed shut on his arm. He screamed and while his arm was pinned in the door, he turned around to look at cell block B again, and saw something; he began to struggle against the door that was pinning his arm.
"No! No! No! No! No!"
Hearing the screams, Randall got up and moved to his cell door, where he peered through the bars, trying to see what was happening, and he was scared.
"No! No! No! No! No! No! Aah! No!" the guard screamed as he was killed.
Three months later…
Dean Winchester was sitting at a table, handcuffed, and he waiting for the police to come in, wondering whether Liz was safe somewhere or if she'd been caught, too; just then, the door opened and Agent Henriksen and Agent Reidy walked in.
"Well, it's about time," Dean said causally. "I'll have a cheeseburger, extra onions."
"You think you're funny?" Henriksen asked, unfazed.
Dean beamed. "I think I'm adorable."
"It is a pleasure to finally meet you in person, Dean," Henriksen said, surprising the younger man by knowing his name. "I'm Special Agent Victor Henriksen this is my partner Special Agent Reidy."
"Henriksen?" Dean repeated and his eyes widened, now recognizing the voice. "Not the Milwaukee Agent Henriksen."
Henriksen nodded. "Live and in person."
'We're so screwed.' Dean looked down and scoffed, chuckling slightly to himself; Henriksen pulled a picture of Dean out of the manila folder he was holding and showed it to him.
"Ahh, Nice shot," he remarked and tossed the photo onto the table in front of Dean. "You can hang that up in your cell at super-max."
Dean looked at the photo and then at the federal agent. "Alright, maybe we can just forget the cheeseburger huh?"
"Aww, yeah, keep that game face on, try and cover up how cornered you are," Henriksen scoffed and looked at his partner. "Read him the charges."
"Well, we got mail fraud," Reidy quoted from memory, "credit card fraud, grave desecration."
"Skip to the good ones," Henriksen requested.
Reidy nodded. "Armed robbery, kidnapping, and uh, oh, three counts of first degree murder."
"And don't you dare bring up the fact that Aaron Hotchner got those charges dropped," Henriksen cut in. "'cause I don't care. So, I'd say for you two, and your sister Elizabeth when we find her, screwed to hell is a major understatement."
'Good, they don't have Liz yet.' Dean shrugged. "Well, where there's life there's hope, huh?"
Henriksen smirked. "Ahh, see that's what I was thinking when I was searching for your asses all over hell and gone. Your Dad taught you well, the way you cover your tracks, and after Milwaukee the way you guys-" he whistled and made a gesture with his hand. "Vanished. I near went nuts trying to find you, ask him." and he nodded to Reidy.
Reidy nodded. "He near went nuts."
"I followed a fake trail to Canada a while back and got nothin'," Henriksen added. "And after all that, a clerk at the motel you chose to check in at, just happen to recognize you, Dean, from Milwaukee when he was there visiting family. Gotta say, I was…surprised."
Dean shrugged. "What can I say? I just have one of those faces."
Henriksen wasn't amused as he sat down across from the younger man. "Where's Elizabeth?"
Dean shrugged. "How should I know? I mean…yeah she's my twin, but that doesn't make her my keeper."
"I will find her, Dean," Henriksen told him seriously. "And just so you know, both Sam and Elizabeth do have a chance of gettin' a lighter sentence, while you don't."
Dean rolled his eyes. "Whatever you say, chief. But I seriously doubt that my friends at the BAU will let you lock me up and throw away the key."
"We'll see about that," Henriksen retorted. "So, I just happen to check the alias you used the moment you arrived in Little Rock, and it just happen to be the same ones you used in a motel in Provo, UT for a brief period of time, and yet you three were in that state for the remaining weeks of October and returned there for all of November and December, plus the first half of January. So, will I find dead bodies in that state?"
"We wanted to try out the skiing, which is suppose to be great there," Dean responded, making a mental note to change all of their alias so that didn't happen again, and was now glad that they'd warned the Idris family about the feds.
Henriksen didn't believe that for a second. "Seriously, Dean, where is your sister?"
Before Dean could respond, the door to the room opened and a woman came in, halting the conversation and attracting his attention.
"Dean Winchester?" the woman asked.
Dean nodded. "In the flesh."
"And you are?" Henriksen asked.
"Mara Daniels, public defender's office," Mara responded curtly and turned to Dean. "I've been assigned to you and your brothers' case." She then shook his hand, slipping him a folded paper without the agents' knowledge, and looked up between the two FBI agents flanking the table. "Are you Henriksen?"
Henriksen nodded, scowling. "Yeah, and we're not quite done here."
"Uh-yeah, you are," Mara retorted. "And if you don't mind, I would like to meet with my clients, privately."
Henriksen picked up the envelope and stormed out of the room with Reidy; seconds later, Sam was brought in, and they both looked at Mara inquiringly.
"So, just how screwed are we right now?"
Liz sat in the motel room, working at Sam's laptop and paused to rub her eyes, exhausted; a few days after their trip to L.A., they'd gotten a call from a man named Deacon, who was an old friend of their dad and a former Marine, about a ghost that was terrorizing the prison he worked at, and they'd taken it up since they owed it to their dad, whose life had been saved by Deacon.
The plan itself was going to be a simple one since Sam came up with it: he was going to talk his way into the prison, do a couple of interviews, and then solve the case without drawing too much attention to themselves…at least that's what they'd wanted to happen.
`"'Liz put a large bag of takeout food onto the front seat of the Impala before getting in herself and started back to the motel they'd just checked in; she'd volunteered to get them dinner while her brothers got them checked in, and they'd agreed.'
`"'She was about three blocks away from the motel, when she was suddenly overwhelmed by a sudden urge to pull in somewhere else and hide; without thinking, she did so, parking the car onto a small side street, and then shook her head, wondering why she just did that.'
`"'Seconds later, she saw a SWAT van driving away from the direction of the motel she'd left her brothers at, followed by several police cars, and in one of them was-'
`"'Sam, Dean," Liz whispered, watching them cars go by. "What the hell?" and then she was hit with a need to avoid the motel and find somewhere else to stay at; realizing that Sam had just saved her, she immediately checked into a different motel ten blocks away from the first place, and waited a bit before going back to find out what'd happened.'
`"'When she spotted three cop cars still in the parking lot, she first called Hotch to let him know and then she called Deacon to give him a heads up.'
`"'I already know, Liz," Deacon informed her. "I saw their names on the list of prisoners that'll be coming in this morning.'
`"'Liz sighed, partly relieved and partly worried. "Well, at least they can still work the case and figure out what it is that's causin' trouble in your prison.'
`"'I hope so," said Deacon. "What're you goin' to do?'
`"'I'm gonna have to lay low," Liz admitted. "So when they do get everything worked out and they're ready, call me, and I'll arrange the escape location, all right?'
`"'All right," Deacon agreed. "Just keep your head down until then, Liz.'
`"'I will," Liz promised and then returned to the motel to figure out the escape plan, especially since it was going to be really tricky.'"`
Now, Liz was researching their possible vengeful spirit, one Mark Moody, with help from Penelope Garcia, and was also getting updates from Hotch, who was in contact with the lawyer that was looking after Dean and Sam.
"Hang on, guys," she muttered as she resumed typing. "Just hang in there."
'Well, at least we're in the right place,' Sam thought as he and Dean got off the bus with the other prisoners.
"Alright, let's go," the prison guard ordered. "Watch your step. Come on, keep moving."
As the Winchesters passed by the yard where all the inmates were, the prisoners were yelling at them and making catcalls.
One particularly burly prisoner pointed to Sam as he walked by. "You're mine!"
"Don't worry Sammy," Dean promised, noting his brother's exasperated expression. "I won't trade you for smokes."
Sam just rolled his eyes, shielding himself from all of the emotions in the place, and was already sending out a mental ward to keep away those who would probably get…wrong ideas about them.
A short while later, two prison guards were walking on either side of the line of prisoners in orange jumpsuits assigning them to cells; Dean got assigned with a random prisoner, who had really long hair, and followed the guy in.
"I call top bunk," he said cheerfully.
The longhaired scruffy prisoner gave him a look and placed his own stuff on the top bunk.
Dean shrugged. "Okay." He then turned around to see Sam enter the cell across from him. Sam nodded at the inmate who stood up and was much larger than him, who turned around to the door as it was shutting with a worried look on his face. 'I'm so glad that I have my Jedi mind trick.'
That night Dean ended up in solitary confinement with another prisoner named Lucas, and ended up witnessing the poor guy getting killed by the ghost.
The next day, Sam was cleaning the restroom with Randall, the exact guy that he wanted to talk to, and, with a gently mental nudge, got him talking about the prison guard's death.
"They say the stress of the job got him," Randall told him while mopping the floor with a skill that stated that he'd done it before.
"Yeah? What do you say?" Sam asked.
Randall stopped mopping and looked at him. "Why are you inside, kid?"
Sam chuckled. "'cause I got an idiot for a brother."
Randall chuckled, too. "That'll do it."
"Yeah," Sam agreed.
"Well, this place ain't so bad," Randall remarked. "Compared to the old cell block, this is the damn Hilton."
"You spent time in the old block?" Sam asked, using another gentle nudge.
Randall nodded grimly. "Oh, yeah, I was a regular customer."
"Didn't they have Mark Moody over there for a while?" Sam asked.
"He was there," Randall confirmed. "You know I was there too the night that lunatic bought it."
Sam raised his eyebrows. "Yeah? It was a heart attack right?"
Randall scoffed. "Sure his heart stopped right after the guards stopped using his head for batting practice. Next morning I was in his cell mopping up the blood. What a mess."
Sam stared, surprised. "Wait, so he-he was beaten and nobody reported it?"
Randall nodded. "You kept your mouth shut unless you wanted to die from the same heart attack, you know?"
"Randall…exactly how much blood was there?" Sam asked.
"Enough that I had to use five mop heads just to get it all out," Randall answered. "But that pallet of his was soaked, and there was no way they could get it out." and then went back to mopping.
'I believe it,' Sam thought, resuming mopping, too.
When a prisoner named Tiny was killed by a completely different ghost, which had attacked Dean first, Sam went back to talk to Randall.
"So, Randall, just how many heart attacks were there back then?" Sam asked, gently nudging the man's mind while he was smoking.
"There was a lot," Randall confirmed. "Why?"
Sam shrugged. "Well, I heard a rumor about some nurse that used to work here, and since no one reported what really happen to Moody, I'm just wonderin' whether there were other deaths that weren't reported."
Randall chuckled as he smoked. "Yeah, well there was a nurse that used to work here named Glockner. Nurse Glockner. Nasty old bitch worked here in the 70's."
"You knew her?" Sam asked.
"I met her once," Randall confirmed. "I had to get a tetanus shot, and she damn near jabbed the needle through the other side of my arm. At least I got out of there alive."
"What do you mean?" Sam asked.
Randall shrugged. "There were these stories, I don't know if they were true. Cons love to talk but they were all liars."
"What kind of stories?" Dean asked.
"Guys would go up to the infirmary with a cold, next thing you know, they're in a body bag," Randall explained. "A whole rash of heart attacks. Young guys. Old guys."
"Heart attacks?" Sam repeated, not liking the sound of this.
Randall nodded. "Yeah, the story was Glockner had it out for cons and she did this Charles Bronson thing with a hypodermic. Anyway, that was the rumor, nobody ever proved anything."
"So whatever happened to Glockner?" Dean asked.
"I don't know," Randall admitted. "I finished my bit and left. Next time I landed in here, she was gone."
"A second ghost?" Liz repeated, writing down the name on a pad.
`"That's what they told me,"` Deacon told her. `"Also, they plan to leave here tomorrow night."`
"Tomorrow?" Liz repeated, stunned. "Great, the one time that I'm not there with them, and they manage to work a case quickly without dying…too much."
Deacon chuckled. `"I'll take your word for it. Anyway, they need that research, and where and when?"`
"Okay, I'll have Garcia send the info I find to that lawyer," Liz promised. "And have them exit to the west side of the place after sunset tomorrow night, and I'll be there waiting."
`"Thanks and I'll pass the word onto your brothers,"` Deacon said, glad that the nightmare was going to be over soon.
The next night, Liz was waiting on the west side of the prison in the Impala when she saw her brothers hop over the top of the railing, and they made their way over to where she was parked.
"Oh, man are you a sight for sore eyes," Dean told the car as he and Sam reached it. "Are you gonna get out, Liz?"
"No time, Dean," Liz told him as she passed him his jacket and Sam got his own jacket out so that they could switch them out. "Besides, the sooner we burn the remains of Dolores Glockner, the better."
"Yeah, I guess," Dean agreed as he changed his jacket and slipped into the backseat. "You know, I almost wish I could see Henriksen's face."
"Really? Cause I'd be happy if I never saw him again," Sam retorted, getting into the passenger seat. "You know, we're not really out of the woods yet Dean, you know?"
Dean nodded. "Yeah, yeah." And then winched when the alarm sounded. "Good point." And Liz drove them away as lights started roaming behind them to look for them.
Henriksen wasn't a happy camper as he finished interrogated Deacon, who had a nasty bruise on his jaw from being hit, and was now talking with Mara about her last visit to the prison.
"It's an easy question," he repeated coldly. "What did you and Dean talk about?"
Mara sighed. "I have already told you, it was a private conversation between me and my client."
"Right," Henriksen growled. "And just three hours later, he just happened to bust out. Plus, you just happen to be friends with Aaron Hotchner, who I bet called you to look after the Winchesters. Now, tell me what he said."
Mara was becoming frustrated and nervous as Henriksen got into her face.
"Let me make this simple," he continued. "You don't come clean, I will put you on the hook for aiding and abetting, and there will be no way that Agent Hotchner will be able to help you down."
"Oh, that's ridiculous!" Mara protested.
Henriksen snorted. "You don't think that I can? You think this is some kind of game lady? I am the last person on planet Earth you wanna screw with. Now, tell me what he said."
Mara sighed, annoyed. "He wanted me to do some research. On a prison nurse that dies in 1976, and I refused."
"Why did he want to know about this nurse?" Henriksen asked.
Mara shrugged. "I don't know."
"What else?" Henriksen asked.
"Well, I later got a message containing the information that they wanted," Mara explained. "I don't know who sent it, only it had what they wanted, including where the nurse is buried."
"Did you give them the information?" Henriksen asked.
Mara nodded. "Yeah."
"And you know where they're going?" Henriksen asked. "Where the nurse's remains are buried?"
"Yeah," Mara confirmed.
"Tell me," Henriksen requested.
The Winchesters just finished up burning the remains of Nurse Glockner and were heading back to the Impala when Liz's phone rang and she answered it.
"Hello?"
`"Liz, it's Hotch."`
"Hey, Hotch," Liz said, putting her phone on speaker. "We've just gotten rid of the real killer ghost."
`"That's good to hear,"` Hotch said with obvious relief. `"And I just received word from Mara that she sent Henriksen to the wrong cemetery, which should give you all enough time to get out of there."`
"That's good to hear," said Dean as they put their gear away in the trunk. "We're gonna hide someplace for a bit."
`"Good idea,"` Hotch said, agreeing. `"Just avoid going near Mexico since that's one of several places that Garcia is placing fake trails to keep Henriksen off your tails for a while."`
"We'll be sure to avoid that place, Hotch," Sam promised. "And we'll let you know when we're safe."
`"Good, now get out of there."`
After promising that they would, the Winchesters got back into their car and drove away into the night.
A/N: And that's the end of the story, folks. R&R everyone!