Interrogation: Sam
Sam sits on a tiny chair in a small room, wrists in handcuffs resting on the table in front of him. He's been waiting for the better part of three hours without so much as a hello from anyone. He's got a pretty good idea of what's happening, at least the basics. He can't say he wasn't expecting to be brought in for questioning, he was, however, unprepared for the SWAT team knocking down the door to the mobile office at their construction site.
He takes a deep breath, running his hands through his hair. While he's not new to being on this side of the law, he's never been left to sweat in the box for this long.
He gets it, they're proving a point.
Detective Joe Burgess stands on the opposite side of a panel of one way glass watching. His eyes narrow as he sips reheated, lukewarm coffee from a styrofoam cup. This moment's been a long time coming, there's a lot riding on this. If they can't make charges stick this time there's little hope of the investigation dragging onward.
The brass says there's been way too much time and money spent on this investigation. A thousand lines of inquiry that lead to nowhere. If they can't break one of them today, there's a good chance they'll all walk for good. Everything the department has is circumstantial, and the district attorney won't move forward without hard proof.
Joe's a veteran, twenty years with his shield, before that a beat cop in some of the worst neighborhoods in Lincoln. He seen enough bad guys to know that there's something off about the Winchesters. He has his own suspicions, but he's got to leave them at the door because this is about what they can prove, which, at the moment, isn't much.
He believes in justice, but he's not naive enough to have faith in the system. It's finally time to bring out the big guns, so to speak, let the Winchester's know they're really in it deep, and people are paying attention.
You can only live outside the law for so long.
Joe's partner, Keith Jablonski, opens the door to the viewing area between the two interrogation rooms, carefully shutting it behind him. Keith's overweight, red faced and not the sharpest knife in the drawer, but they've been a team for the better part of two decades so it's about family at this point.
"How they doin'?" Keith asks eyeing Sam, then his brother sitting in the adjacent room.
"They're both just sitting there." Joe cocks his head as Sam shifts in his chair, palming himself through his jean and adjusting his balls. He's been doing this long enough to know that most people panic. Guilty or not, the anticipation of the interview drives most people mad, pacing the room, crying or any number of nervous ticks...but these guys are just waiting patiently like a grandmother at a bus stop.
"You sure you wanna split up? We could tag team em', go in together." Keith suggest, pulling up his pants by the loops.
"We've got less chance of getting them to talk if we overwhelm them. We just want to get the dialogue going and hope something comes out. These guys have been involved in too much for something not to slip, that's all we need. Once we have that we can pry the rest out." Joe's sure of one thing, Sam and Dean are as smart as they are criminal.
The door opens and Sam sits up a little, watching a cop in his fifties enter with a somber smile. He walks right over to the table and and pulls the only other chair sitting across from him and switching on the audio recorder.
"I'm detective Joe Burgess and I'll be conducting this interview." Joe reaches into his pocket and pulls the key the to handcuffs. "You'd probably like to get those off huh?"
"Yes, thank you," Sam nods and holds his hands out as the detective unlocks them.
"So I'm not going to beat around the bush. I think we both know why you're here." Joe nods, looking Sam right in the eyes.
"Well, that makes one of us." Sam smirks, leaning forward with both forearms on the table. "Are you going to tell me or make me guess."
"You and Dean have been very busy the last eight years." Joe taps the folder in front of him, leaving it closed. "I have to hand it to you, you're two of the most enterprising young men I've ever seen. The construction company is impressive but all the little side projects you two have going on? It's amazing you have time."
"It's just the family business," Sam shrugs. Joe expected this reaction.
"Do a lot of guys who own a construction company also carry a loaded Glock?"
"I couldn't tell you. But my handgun is registered, everything's in order."
"Oh, I don't doubt that." Joe chuckles, "Hey, tell me why you weren't home today? I thought Sunday was always family day..."
Sam's jaw ticks at the mention of his family and it's all Joe needs to know where to start applying pressure.
"See, we thought you'd be at home, so we went there first, before we found you down at the job site." There's a physical response in Sam to what he's saying, heat rising in his cheeks and the veins of his neck flexing. "It's a shame we didn't know, we could have avoided that whole mess."
Sam takes the bait. "You raided my house?"
"About an hour before we picked you up." Joe confirms, watching the cool and collected guy across the table attempt to control the rage that's clearly building. This is the Sam he's been waiting eight years for, the guy might just slip up. "Don't worry, your kids are fine, a little traumatized but I'm sure that's nothing new."
"And Y/N?" Sam uncurls his fist, then tightens it again, short nails digging into his skin. Joe knows he's found the sweet spot.
"Oh she's alright too. She's been across the hall talking with my colleague Detective Barden. She's a little shook up but I hear they're getting along just fine." Sam seems to relax a little, it's the last thing Joe wants so he strokes the fire. "I gotta say buddy, your wife, shit, I'd give my right nut to be married to something like that."
"I bet you would," Sam snuffs.
"I've been part of the team that's been keeping tabs on you and Dean from day one. I just have to say that Y/N has really been a real highlight. I mean with an ass like that I see why you keep her knocked up. I don't think any of us blame you."
"I'm a lucky man." Sam bites his tongue, maintaining his composure. A younger version of himself would have reached across the table and ripped Joe's throat out.
"See me and the guys have a bet. Don't get me wrong, she's still a knockout, but after four kids, that close together you gotta tell me… her pussy still tight?"
There's flash over Sam's eyes and a twitch of his shoulders. Joe sees it, the rage threatening to break the dam, but again, Sam remains calm. After a moment he smiles wide at Joe, leaning across the table like he's going to tell him a secret, like he's shooting the shit with a friend at the bar.
"Better than you can imagine."
Joe tips his head back and laughs because fuck all if Sam isn't a sly bastard. He throws up his hands. "Well, good for you man. I've got two kids and a wife who hasn't touched my dick in a year so you'll have to forgive the interest."
"Can we stop talking about my wife's pussy now and you just ask me whatever it is you want the answer to?"
"Becoming a father is a life changing thing," Joe presses forward ignoring Sam's request. "And you've got four? That's full house."
"You have a point?"
"Just never expected you to be a family man, that's all."
"I'm full of surprises."
"See, we got a theory about that too." Joe smiles at Sam, "Y/N really got you with the first one right? What, did she say she was on the pill and beg you to fuck her without a rubber?"
"You're venturing into dangerous territory," Sam replies calmly.
"You and Dean had a pretty sweet setup. The girls were top shelf, I'll give you that. I've got a hard time believing that Sam Winchester, the same guy who beat Kevin Morgan within an inch of his life, the same Sam who was getting blows jobs from bar skanks in the back of Dean's car, just magically fell in love with a bartender and decided to start a family."
Sam remembers the night Liam was born.
He was still trying to figure out how to be a mate, the idea of becoming father didn't seem real until you went into labor. He paced across the your living room, bare feet padding on carpet, back and forth, back and forth, while Dean tried his best to distract him with a football game.
He'll never forget the sounds you made, the scream and cries of desperation coming from the bedroom made him feel sick to his stomach… and it went on for two days. It sounded like you were being tortured and and he was helpless to do anything but listen and wait. Sitting idle was a foreign concept to him.
Dean had finally got him to sit down with a beer when the midwife popped out of the bedroom, looking to Sam, "she needs her Alpha now."
"Is she okay?" He asked, springing to his feet.
"She's strong, but she needs your strength too. The first is always the hardest. Don't worry, it's what Omegas are built for."
Sam could feel as he walked down the hallway, but nothing prepared him for the sight of you naked on your back, belly up and looking utterly broken. "Sam," you cried, reaching for him. The bags under your eyes made them looks like sunken sockets, surrounded by pale, sweating flesh. You reached out to him and he took your shaking hand, more terrified than he'd ever been in his life.
"Hey baby," Sam forced a smile, kneeling down and taking your hand into his.
"I'm so tired," you gulped with chapped lips. "It hurts."
"I know, but you're doing really well." Pushing wet hair away from your forehead he looked to the midwife for confirmation. From between your legs she nodded and somehow he just knew what he needed to do. "I'm right here, I'll be with you."
When it was over he watched awe struck as his newborn son suckled at your nipple. You were so exhausted you could hardly keep your eyes open, so he sat beside you, mother and child propped up on his chest for the first time.
He'd never been more grateful and all he knew was he wanted more.
"You with me?" Joe snaps his fingers in front of Sam's face, bringing him back to reality.
"What was your question? " Sam blinks.
"Let's start simple, can you tell me what you were doing last Wednesday night between eight and midnight?"
"Last Wednesday," Sam thinks, "I went to the bar with Dean, I was home by eleven."
"Anyone else at home with you?"
"My wife."
"She'll confirm that, I assume?"
"Yes."
"And you stayed home the whole the night?"
"I just told you I did." Sam confirms again.
"Well, you could have slipped out. Waited until the Missus falls asleep and…" Joe probes.
Sam scoffed impatiently. "I got home, watched the news, answered a couple emails, fucked my wife, then my two year old threw up all over his bed, when I say he threw up I mean an ungodly amount of of vomit. You wouldn't think someone so small is capable of spewing that much. I spent an hour dealing with that aftermath. By the time we went to bed it was pushing four, maybe five."
"I almost believe you."
"I don't care." Sam snips.
"I believe that too." Joe chuckles, and flips through a folder. He pulls out a photos of a woman's mangled body lying on the ground. Her flesh is bloated, a sickening blue."You know her?"
Sam picks the photo, looking from the grotesque image to Joe, "I've seen her before, Shelly or Cheryl something."
"Charlene. She was twenty four when she died. Her parents reported her missing two years ago and she ends up dead a couple miles from your job site."
"You think I killed her?"
"Well I know you knew her, you and Dean both did. I don't know who did it. I find it interesting that that picture doesn't bother you, just another body huh?"
"How am I supposed to react? Did you want me to cry? I'll try to act more shocked next time."
"There's the Sam I'm looking for," Joe cracks a smile leaning forward. "The blood doesn't bother you, huh?"
"Not really, no." Sam tightens his jaw.
"I tell you what, if I needed someone disappeared, I'd come to you. You guys are good. There's no denying that."
"I don't know what you mean," Sam responds deadpan.
"Let's take a look at these young women, you just speak up if anything rings a bell," Joe lays out a series of pictures, some of them old class photos, other personal family pictures. Sam recognizes most of them.
A few years back one of their own went rogue. Jesse Verik had a specific taste in women, he liked them young and innocent. He bit two dozen women before Sam was able to find him and put him down, leaving he and Dean to deal with the aftermath. For six months the two of them shuffled newborn wolves from house to house while they suffered through the change, then learned how to control what they were. Not one of them had wanted to go home, all fearing the inevitable repercussions. It took time but Sam and his brother placed them all, one by one, around the country with packs that were looking to grow.
He's now staring at a collection of assumed missing persons that aren't really missing at all. If it comes down to it, Sam will get in touch in their Alphas and have the girls turn up alive, but he'd like to avoid it. They wanted to fall off the grid and start a new life, he can't begrudge them that, not after what they'd been through. Being turned is traumatic enough when you know what to expect, but they were forced into this life. He won't out them unless it's a last resort.
"Yeah, I recognize some of them, but you already knew that right?" Sam asks and Joe nods in confirmation. He points to each one as he corroborates the facts. "She worked for my brother for a while, cleaned his house I think. The redhead up there worked for my mother-in-law, bartended for a while. The blonde with the short hair, she worked for me at Reliant. Filing and answering phones."
"You fuck any of 'em?" Joe thinks he already knows the answer to this but he's pushing buttons.
"No," Sam scoffs, "never."
"All twenty of these women went missing within two months. All with a connection to you or your brother or one of your lackeys. Is that just a coincidence?"
"I don't know what to tell you," Sam shrugs, "people come and go around here."
"Well they seem to come and go a lot faster around you." Joe flips his legal pad to a blank page and looks at Sam. "Let's just go date by date, and you can tell me what you remember."
You wait the better part of an hour before the door opens to the small room and a short woman in her late fifties ambles it. She smiles tightly, giving you a nod of her head and sets down her papers on the table in front of you.
"I'm Diane, I'll be your caseworker." Diane shifts in her seat, looking at the pane of one way glass. She flips the switch on the table and the red recording light on the camera in the corner of the room switches off. "They're watching but they can't hear, there's no sound."
"I can't believe this is happening, look you have to understand that my children-"
"Everything's gonna be alright sweetheart," she reaches across the table and pat your hand. It's the kind of touch that sends a tingle up your arm. She's a wolf, but she doesn't smell like any werewolf you've never encountered before, it's just a faint scent that you never would have noticed without physical contact.
"What are you?" you tip your head, eyes narrowing.
"I'm a Beta, not many of us left." She looks up maintaining her grim expression. "We have to go through the motions, so try not to look too comfortable, I'll walk you through the process."
Thank God, you sent up a silent prayer.
Detective Linda Barden, Joe Burgess and Keith Jablonski are gathered in a small windowless room between two interrogation suites. There are a handful of other cops in the room frantically pouring through files and evidence.
"There's gotta be something we're missing." Keith offers with a shrug, "We just need one thing to tie them to the one of the murders. Just one witness."
"What about Dean?" Linda ask Keith.
"He's not saying shit, just a bunch of fuck you's." Keith offers.
"Do you think the wife will break?" Joe turns to Linda.
"Yeah, but I need time. I called in child protective service, we'll put the fear of God in her."
"You think that'll be enough to break her?" Joe persists.
"Like I said, it takes time. Sam's got a hold on her, but if I can get her to realize all the shit he's been doing right under her nose, that, combined with her kids hanging in the balance...I think she'll flip. What about the guys? Neither of them have said anything we can use?"
"No," Joe laughs, utterly exasperated. "It would be a fucking miracle. I think our best bet is to go after the wife. Sam's a fucking psycho but he's cool as a cucumber until you mention her or the kids. That's where we gotta apply the pressure. We threaten her, we get the whole thing."
"Time's up." Chief Calvin Wells doesn't bother with a greeting, just throws the door open and stands wide with his hands on his hips. "What you got?"
"We've got a plan sir," Joe starts, "We need more time with wife, we can use her to-"
"I don't wanna hear it," Wells holds up his hand. "You've had the three of them here all day, not to mention the countless man hours we've spent on this case. Almost a decade, the last chief let this go on and I'm putting stop to it once and for all. It's a black hole. Now I've got a social worker comforting a distraught mother of four because she's been cleared to take her kids home after she's dealt with what social services described as 'baseless accusations from an overzealous police department.' And, you wanna know the kicker, the idiot cop you've got watching the kids doesn't even know how to change a fucking diaper, the baby's been sitting in shit for hours before my secretary took care of it. It'll be a miracle if we get out of this without being sued."
"They said the kids could go? Jesus fucking Christ, did the caseworker even look at pictures?" Linda balks, unable to believe what she's hearing.
"It's not enough. It was a long shot and you failed. Now get these guys out of my station house and do it now."
"Chief, you gotta," Joe protests, but Chief Wells is hearing none of it.
"This is not up for debate. You've got years worth of surveillance, potential witnesses, hell I got all the warrants you wanted and the most you could come up with is domestic violence? Get them the fuck out of my building. I swear to God if I hear another word about the Winchesters I'll fire everyone in this damn room."
The room clears out, people collecting boxes and the detectives disperse to spread the word that it's finally over. Keith Jablonski hangs back until it's only he and the chief before he closes the door.
"You ah… you think this going to come back to bite us in the ass?" Keith asks tiredly, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Maybe, but it's better than the alternative." Chief Wells adjusts his belt, looking around as if some invisible presence might be listening. "I gotta explain to the Alpha why I allowed a swat team to raid his home when his kids were there. Barden jumped the gun and fucked us both."
"He'll understand, Sam's fair." Keith offers. They both know their pack leader is level headed about most things, especially in recent years, but his family is a whole other story.
"I hope so."
You sit in a chair in the lobby surrounded by a crowd of detectives and beat cops in uniform milling around, having uttered conversations with their breath. The tension is palpable. No one's satisfied with the outcome of today's events, including yourself. It's unclear why there's so many people. Maybe they're just curious, eager to lay eyes on the Winchesters in person, or maybe they think there's going to be some kind of scuffle. All you're focused on is the sound of Sam's muffled voice behind the door before it open and he steps out into the lobby.
His eyes sweep over the line of people until he spots you getting up from your chair. You walk to him, ignoring the snort from Linda, and let him pull you in.
"You okay baby?" he asks, wrapping his arms around you until you're completely engulfed. He might be the pack leader, but right now he's your Alpha and no one else's.
"Yeah, I just want to get out of here." You pull away from him.
"Where the fuck are my kids?" Sam turns to Chief Wells, who looks to be in complete distress. He motions to the cop in uniform beside him tells him to go see what's taking so long.
Dean's the next to wander out, throwing Sam a knowing look and winking at you.
Linda takes this as her last opportunity and steps toward you, "Y/N, you can still choose to do the right thing for-"
"Just stop talking." Sam interjects before you have the chance, stepping between the two of you. "You're done."
Liam is the first through the door, having obviously just woke from a deep sleep as he rubs his eyes. He smiles when he sees his parents, ignoring you in favor of his father. You don't mind. "Daddy…" he mumbles.
Sam scoops him up, cupping the back of his head with a hand. "You ready to go home buddy?"
Liam nods, nuzzling his face into Sam's shoulder. The other three children are brought out. Colin's sleeping and you take him from the officer, as Owen wraps himself around you leg. Sam hands off Liam to Dean without protest, taking Killian as he cradles the baby in his arms.
For a moment all is forgotten; the fact that you're in a police station, or the hours of non-stop questions. Now all seems right with the world as you watch your Alpha hold his infant son in his arms.
Sam pulls the car away from the curb, two of your children already sleeping in the back, the other two with Dean. He glances in the rearview before before reaching over to take you hand. "I'm so sorry."
"They came into our house Sam. With guns."
"I know, I-" Sam closes his eyes trying to swallow the anger, because there's nothing he can do about it at the moment.
"They could have killed the boys." You take a deep breath pressing your free palm into your thighs. "You told me you had this taken care of."
"I do," Sam squeezes your hand his, the other gripping the steering wheel, "It's over now. They're not going to come after us again. Wells wants to meet tomorrow, I'll make sure everything is squared right away."
"He wants to cover his own ass I'm sure." You grunt. "He told you he'd make sure we had a warning before they brought us in, what the hell happened to that."
"He said the detective that questioned you is the one who gave the order. He didn't know until it was too late."
"This can't ever happen again."
"It won't." He confirms with all the confidence in the world. "I'll always take care of you and our family, you're the most important thing to me."
"I know," you give in a little. "You really think they're going to let this go."
"Any detective that wants to keep their job is going to listen to what the chief tells them. We're gonna be fine sweetheart. I promise."
Three Months Later
Detective Linda Barden gulps down the final vestiges of her cheap wine and says goodbye to her sister. She's visiting Lincoln for the weekend, just a quick trip to see her family and catch up on the life she left behind.
Wrapping her jacket around her body she starts the half mile walk back to her hotel. It's just after midnight and, despite it being a Saturday, there aren't many people out and about. Five minutes into her journey she hears it, the sound that a crying baby coming from somewhere in the distance. It isn't until she passes the alley at the corner of Shaffer and Rollins that she hears it again, coming from somewhere down the dark back street.
The cop in her knows something isn't right, but she can't put her finger on it. Maybe it's the cries of the child or the uneasiness that settles into her bones? Reaching for her gun she curses when she realizes she's not carrying a firearm, why would she be? She's on vacation.
Linda makes her way as quietly as possible down the alley, just one foot in front of the other, step by step on high alert.
"Hello," she calls out in a whisper, "anyone there?"
She has no time to react as a body hits her at full speed, knocking the wind out of her as a hand closes around her throat. She's pushed face first into a filthy brick wall, gasping for air. She tries desperately to fight back, she's pretty damn strong but her resistance is futile against her attacker who seems to have a inhuman strength.
There's the sound of tearing clothes as her jacket is ripped from her body, then her shirt. For a minute she thinks she's going to be raped, but then comes the bite. Teeth sinking into the flesh of her shoulder, sinking into skin as she screams in terror.
Then, without warning, she's released, falling to the ground listening to the footfall of her attacker. She sobs, clamping a hand over the wound, blood gushing out in a hot stream over her fingers. All she can think is: he didn't kill you, you're alive. You're alive.
What she doesn't know is what will happen when the full moon rises, but that's a story for another time.