A/N: It has been one year since Dean made the deal with the dark woman. Now he has been accused and convicted of murder. Now it is up to Sam to save his brother before time runs out. When only mere seconds remain, will Sam make a sacrifice that could destroy everyone around him? Major spoilers for All Hell Breaks Loose part one and two. Rated M for strong language and strong violence. Many twists to come that will, hopefully, leave you breathless. One I threw in just for my own pleasure. You'll know it when you see it! Enjoy!

Disclaimer: SPN is not mine, that belongs to Eric and CW. I own all characters not associated with the show!!

"In the days of my youth
I was told what it means to be a man,
Now I've reached that age
I've tried to do all those things the best I can.
No matter how I try,
I find my way into the same old jam."
'Good Times' Bad Times' - Led Zeppelin

XXXXX

"Dean I think this is a bad idea." Sam almost whined to his brother, staring through the bars. Dean had become the property of Langdon Correctional Facility only a week ago. Now Sammy had been recruited to break out his big brother. The last month had been hell, so many interrogations and accusations. Now Dean had been accused of murder, yet again, but this time there was some very damning evidence. Even Sam was unsure of what was going on.

"Sam, just hold the flashlight like a good felon, and quit your sniveling." Dean retorted. Sam rolled his eyes, then stood in front of the lock. It was after dark, and Sam had been locked in after hours. He had snuck in a vent, and waited. Sam eyed Dean as he picked the lock. It only took him a matter of seconds to get it open. Sam smashed his free hand to his face. This could only end badly.

"What did I tell ya little man? Did I deliver or what?" Dean gently pulled the gate open. It creaked a moment then stopped. Dean spied the hall for cameras, catching one just outside the guard station. The guard inside was facing away from them, watching TV with headphones on. Yanking Sam down the hall, he moved quietly, ducking as the camera scanned in their direction, pulling Sam down with him.

"If we get caught I will kill you in your sleep. Pillow and all!" Sam whispered in Dean's ear. He heard Dean laugh. What did he care? He was going to die in a month anyways. Why not help things along?

The camera flashed back in the other direction, giving them at least 30 seconds to get under it. Dean jumped up and skirted to the office, rolling under the camera. He waved at Sammy, who was not happy in the slightest. Yet, he mirrored his brother's actions, just making it in time. They looked up at the camera as it panned over to Dean's empty cell.

"Well, on a wing and a prayer huh Sammy?" Dean chuckled, but Sam was less than amused. He leaned back against the small office, not wanting to move again. Dean had done some dumb ass stuff in the 24 years he had been his brother, but today was at the top of the list.

Dean tapped Sam on the shoulder, then disappeared. Sam grunted, but followed Dean as he zig-zagged down the hall, dipping in and out of the views of other cell mates. Most were asleep, but a handful were still awake, and Dean wanted to avoid all that he could. At the end of the hall was another door. Dean had Sam watch for the guard while he picked yet another lock, then they were through. The guard never moved. Dean wanted to laugh at the inefficiency of the legal system.

Through a couple more doors, and the boys were at a room marked 'Private.' Inside were private files and documents. Dean scanned through a few before he found his. It was so thick he could have used it to hold open the door to Jesus' tomb.

Dean handed the file to Sam angrily.

"It's all bullshit. Complete and utter bullshit!" He slammed the filing cabinet shut, and when he did, he heard a scuffling. They both ran to the small door and checked the hall. The guard station was empty. Dean stepped out of the room, and was face to face with the business end of a .45.

"I guess you are gonna like being someone's bitch after all, huh Mr. Winchester?" The guard cocked the gun, and smiled. Dean shook his head, and Sam just stood there, not sure what to do.

XXXXX

All this had begun innocently enough. Dean had gone off one night a month ago to get a beer. He and Sam had a fight, and he just wanted to blow of some steam. After having a few drinks, he was about to leave, when a young woman came up to him. She was terrified of something, and was bleeding from a cut on her bottom lip. The woman was ranting and raving about her ex-husband hitting her and that he was coming back to finish the job. Dean had waved his hands at her, trying to make sense of the situation. He was a bit tipsy as well, so everything seemed a bit turned around.

"Woah, calm down lady..." Dean had led her outside, the entire time his head pounding. He had never felt this bad after only a few beers. Dean knew how to hold his liquor. Yet his head was on the verge of exploding.

The young woman began to cry, begging Dean to help her. Then before Dean could say another word, a pickup truck skirted into the gravel lot. An angry, burly man exited the vehicle, the engine still growling. If looks could kill, the stare that he had given Dean would have definitely done the job right then and there. The woman gasped, then hid behind Dean, almost pushing him at the stranger. Dean turned to face her, chuckling nervously.

"Listen baby, I may like trouble, but not when it comes looking for me." He grabbed her arm. "I prefer to go looking for it, you get my drift?" He eyed her, and she only stared back at him. This girl did not understand his morbid philosophy. Only Sam did, and he was back at the motel, sulking over his laptop like a girl. Now he wished he was here, if only for a distraction.

The man sauntered over to Dean and turned him around, and he and Dean's face were within inches of each other. Dean flashed his award winning smile, but the man wasn't biting. Okay Dean, let's try something else. He tried pushing at the guy, but he was like a brick wall, impenetrable. Dean chuckled again, then prepared for a fist to connect with his lovely face.

"I suggest that you get in your muscle car, pansy boy." The man spoke with a rather gruff tone. Dean suddenly got an ounce of courage, and for the life of him could not figure where from.

"Excuse me sir," Dean tapped him on the shoulder. He looked at Dean's hand, then back at his face. He did not look happy.

"Maybe you should just get back in your Ford POS, Sasquatch." Dean watched as the man's eyes widened, then a large boulder of a fist connected with his nose. He sailed backwards, almost taking down the young woman. Dean fell back against his car, and smacked the driver's side window with the back of his head. He was knocked unconscious.

Dean awoke sometime later, covered in blood. His car was completely banged up, as if it had been in a major car accident. Dean pulled himself off the ground, almost stumbling over his own two feet. His shirt was stuck to his chest, not only from blood, but because of sweat. Dean felt as if he had been running a marathon. He was tried and his muscles ached.

Yanking open the dented driver's side door, Dean saw a sight that made even his strong stomach turn in knots. Even more blood was splashed across the back seat, the rear dash, and all over ever inch of the right rear door. It was as if a massacre had occurred in there. Dean stepped closer, not sure his stomach could take anymore, when he saw two things that sent his nerves to snapping. Lying in the blood was his ID, and the knife that he always kept under his pillow at night.