So here's chapter 2…I'm having a lot of fun writing this, and I hope you all enjoy reading it! As always, I invite reviews. They help me make my writing better. Don't forget to check out the poll above my bio on my page. I could really use the input!

Fallen Angel

"Slow down, will ya?" Bobby shouted into the phone. He was driving on the interstate, just outside of Tallahassee. "Now tell me exactly why you woke up covered in blood."

"I don't know! The last thing I remember is going to bed last night. Dean was still up, on the internet."

"And you don't remember else?"

"Nothing. That's it. The next thing I remember was Dean shaking my shoulder and looking at me like I was a freak or something."

Bobby looked up at the highway sign he was passing under. "Okay, here's the deal. I'm on 319 North in Florida. I'm almost to the Interstate. Get everything you and Dean own and get away from that motel before the cops and CSI get there. Burn anything with blood on it, and get rid of the gun. I'll be in Atlanta in a few hours. Find a new motel, far away from that one, and call me back. You got all that, son?"

"I'll call you in an hour." Sam closed his phone and practically leapt off the bed. He shoved all of their possessions into the duffels and ran out to the Impala. After securing them in the trunk, he went back in and gathered all of the bloody sheets and clothing, grabbed his computer and left after doing a final quick sweep of the room.

Sam drove across town to a different motel, and hid the car around the back where it wouldn't be seen. He checked into the most inconspicuous room he could find and set off into the woods behind the motel buildings to burn the evidence of what he had done, if he could remember.

When everything was disposed of, Sam took a shower to rinse any other evidence away from his body, and got into some fresh clothes. His phone rang as he pulled on an old t-shirt.

"Where are you?" Bobby said flatly. Sam had forgotten to call as he had promised, and Bobby was very close to annoyed.

"Motel 6 on Lawrenceville Highway."

"I'll be there in twenty minutes."

--

Bobby adjusted his tie as he sat in his rented Acura outside the precinct where Dean was being held. He was furious that Sam had picked a motel so close to the police station, and told him to move out right away. The two planned a con that involved Bobby posing as Dean's lawyer and Sam waiting a few blocks away with the Impala. Taking a deep breath, Bobby got out of the car and went into the precinct.

Judging by the size of the main room when he walked in, Bobby knew it wasn't going to take him long to con his way in to see Dean.

"Can I help you?" an officer asked as Bobby approached the desk.

"I need to speak to the officer in charge of Dean White's case."

"And you are…" The officer asked, raising an eyebrow.

"John Wilkinson, Mr. White's attorney. My client is being held here without the opportunity for bail, and I want to see someone in charge!" Bobby's voice was so loud and profound that several officers stopped to see what the commotion was about. A door opened to the left, and someone stepped out and started walking toward Bobby.

"I'm Lieutenant Kerri Moore. Please follow me, sir. We've been waiting for you."

Bobby followed her into the room she had come out of, and there was Dean, clad in a bright orange jumpsuit, hands cuffed.

"Are you all right, son?" Bobby asked. Dean nodded, and Bobby launched into his con. "I want to see the evidence you have against my client to support your accusations, Lieutenant."

"His car was seen leaving the scene of a brutal attack, Mr. Wilkinson. The responding officer ran his license plate," Lieutenant Moore told him.

"This is ridiculous. I want my client released on bail right now. There's no need for you to be holding him for a crime you don't have any solid proof he committed!" He went over and put his hand on Dean's arm. "Take these off. We're leaving."

"Hold on a second, counselor. Mr. White isn't going anywhere until his arraignment."

"Did anyone check his alibi? Maybe his car was stolen, did you ever think to ask him that? Or did you just assume that because it was his car, he had to be your guy?"

The Lieutenant turned to Dean. "Okay Mr. White. Where were you last night?"

"I was out at the Klassy Kat. Ask anyone at the bar, and they'll tell you I was there. 555-2437 is the number." Dean stated promptly.

Lt. Moore turned to the other officer in the room. "Sergeant, check that out, will you please? If he's innocent, I don't want to hold him here any longer."

"Can I have a few minutes alone with my client, please?"

"Sure," the Lieutenant left the room, and Bobby turned to Dean.

"What the hell happened last night, Dean?" he questioned.

"Sam's been sleepwalking. He knocked me out cold and took off with the car." Bobby pulled out a chair and sat next to Dean.

"When you and me walk out of here after they clear you, we're going to drive three blocks down, you're to get into the car with Sam, and get the hell out of town, got it?"

"Yeah, I got ya."

"So what number did you give them?" Bobby asked.

"I gave them Sam's cell phone number. He'll know what to do when they call."

"You'd better hope he does, or the both of you are going to have a lot of explaining to do, because it'll only be a matter of time before all this is traced back to Sam."

Dean sat back in his chair and took in Bobby's fixed gaze. He was right. The sooner they all got out of town, the better.