Chapter Two: Bat Country
Dean groaned and opened his eyes, blinking owlishly.
"What time is it?" he asked.
"Seven-thirty," Sam answered.
Dean groaned again and sat up, raking a hand through his hair.
"How long have you been awake?" he asked Sam as he stood and grabbed some clothes from his duffel bag, "The last thing I remember is watching Vince trying to sell those ShamWow things."
Sam smiled slightly, "I've been awake for a while."
Dean peered at his brother but Sam wouldn't say exactly how long he'd been awake. Dean decided he'd rather not know anyway.
"I'll be out in a few minutes," he told his brother and stepped into the bathroom to take a shower.
SPN
Sam sat on the end of his bed, eyes closed, thumb pressed into the scar on his left hand even though he knew it wouldn't work.
"Still gnawing on that bone, are you Sam?" Lucifer's voice whispered in his ear, "You know that doesn't work so why do you still try it?"
"Go away," the hunter pleaded, "Just go away."
"Sam," Lucifer said, "Sam."
"SAM!" Dean said sharply and the younger man looked up, lowering his hands.
"Shower's free," Dean told him as he stepped out of the bathroom, eyeing his brother.
Sam stood quickly and grabbed his duffel bag, stepped into the bathroom and slammed the door.
The hunter gripped the edge of the counter and peered at his reflection for a moment. He hoped he didn't look as bad as he thought he did, with bruised-looking eyes, pale skin, and greasy hair. It's not that bad, Sam told himself, I don't look that bad.
Unzipping his duffel, Sam found his toothbrush and toothpaste and began his morning hygiene ritual.
He'd stopped taking showers almost entirely because he just couldn't force himself to stand stark naked in that small space with Lucifer hanging around. Lifting his left arm- because it was still difficult to raise his right over his head- his sniffed and decided that he smelled all right.
Digging some clothes out of his bag, Sam dressed for the day, taking one last look at his reflection in the mirror.
The hunter jumped back when the glass suddenly cracked as though a heavy object had hit it. Sam stared at a few sharp shards glittering in the sink before taking a deep breath and pulling the door open.
"You ready to go?" Dean asked, slipping 'Maximum Conquest'into his duffel bag.
Sam looked at his sibling quizzically.
"I was thinking we get some breakfast and then blow this popsicle stand," the older Winchester suggested; they never stayed in one place for too long anymore, even when they weren't working a case they usually stayed in a single motel for two or three days at the most, well aware that the Leviathans were still out there and were still after them.
Sam nodded, "Sounds good."
Keeping his duffel bag with him, Sam pulled on his boots and slipped on his jacket, following his brother out the door.
The brothers paused to put their bags in the trunk of their most recently 'borrowed' car, a cherry-red Toyota Yaris- that Sam loathed- before heading down the sidewalk to a nearby strip mall.
W
The brothers stepped into a nondescript diner that boasted a breakfast menu and found a booth at the back of the restaurant.
Sam sat down across from his brother as usual, Lucifer squeezing into the seat beside him.
A waitress appeared moments later, menus tucked under one arm because she held a pot of coffee with the other. Her uniform revealed a startling amount of cleavage; her small silver nametag read 'BRENDA'.
"Can I get you anything?" she asked in a perky voice.
"I'll have some of that," Dean answered, pointing to the coffee pot. The waitress smiled at him and flipped over the white mug sitting on the table in front of him.
"How about you?" she asked, turning to Sam.
"You should get some coffee too, Sammy," Lucifer said, "It'll help you stay awake."
"Just coffee," the hunter replied.
"I'll give you two a few minutes to decide what you want," she told them and left the brothers, practically skipping away.
Dean watched her walk away, a little smile on his face as he did so.
"Dean, you're supposed to be looking at the menu," Sam told him and the other man rolled his eyes.
"Spoil sport," Dean muttered but picked up his menu anyway.
"What are you going to get?" the elder Winchester asked, not giving Sam the choice of not ordering something to eat.
Sam peered at his menu without really seeing it, and answered automatically, "Probably pancakes."
Beside him, Lucifer groaned sounding like a petulant child, "Pancakes? You always order pancakes! Why can't you eat bacon like a normal person?"
Even the thought of bacon was enough to curdle Sam's stomach some days so he stayed very clear of it, lest he tempt memories of Hell to surface. Not that he had much control these days of what surfaced but he wasn't about to tempt fate.
Brenda the Waitress returned, "Have you decided what you're going to order?"
"Bacon," Lucifer chimed in, smiling wolfishly at the girl, clearly staring at her bust.
"Pancakes," Sam told her and she nodded, writing the order down her notepad.
She turned to look at Dean.
"Can I get two fried eggs with home fries, sausage and white toast?"
"Sure thing," Brenda said and refilled the Winchesters' coffee mugs before leaving to place their orders.
Dean took a drink of coffee and sat back, scanning the restaurant behind his brother.
Sam shifted in his seat, drawing his brother's attention.
"You okay?"
The younger man shrugged, "Yeah, fine."
"Maybe we need to go somewhere nice," Dean said, "You know, some place with room service and bellhops and the good Pay Per View movies on the TV."
Sam frowned, "You mean go on a vacation?"
"Yeah," Dean said, leaning forward, "I mean, why not. We both deserve it."
Sam frowned, "But the Leviathans are still out there, Dean."
His brother nodded, "Yeah, but we have heard diddly-squat from Dick in weeks. If he still plans on making human Happy Meals, he's keeping it pretty low-key. Even Frank hasn't called in a while with one of his crack-pot theories."
Sam's expression was skeptical. He didn't really like the idea of going on a holiday when there were monsters at large and people were dying.
"People are always dying, Sam," Lucifer put in his two cents, "It's a fact of life and you taking a break isn't going to change that."
Sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose, Sam shook his head, "I don't know, Dean. It just doesn't seem right."
"Don't give me that, Sam," Dean argued, "You of all people deserve a bit of a break."
Sam peered at his brother, his eyes a little moist.
"Listen to big brother, Sammy," Lucifer commented, "He is right sometimes."
"We won't be gone forever," Dean assured him, "A week tops. Just to relax and forget about everyone getting turned into hamburger meat for a while."
The expression on Dean's face said it all: I can see you cracking up, Sammy. I know you're barely hanging on and I can't stand by and watch your descent into madness anymore.
"Okay," Sam agreed, "Maybe a break will do me good."
From beside him Lucifer snorted laughter but Sam ignored him.
Brenda appearing with breakfast interrupted further conversation.
"Pancakes for you," she sat the plate down in front of Sam, "And eggs for you."
"Thank you, Brenda," Dean said, rubbing his hands together in anticipation.
"Do you need more coffee?" she asked and Dean nodded, "I'll be right back with that. Anything else? Hot sauce or steak sauce?"
"How about some hot sauce?" Dean asked and Brenda smiled, "I get that for you right away."
Sam picked up the small metal pitcher of maple syrup Brenda had brought along with their meals and poured a generous helping on top of his pancakes. Lucifer sat with his arms crossed, eyeing the pancakes as though they'd personally offended him.
"Here's the hot sauce for you," Brenda said, handing Dean a bottle of 'Texas Pete', and then topped up both Winchesters' coffee mugs.
Once the waitress was gone, Dean took the cap off the hot sauce and shook the bottle over his breakfast, splattering everything with spots and streaks of bright red.
Sam watched his brother in silence, feeling his gorge rise, as Dean's breakfast seemed to assault his senses: the sulfurous scent of the fried eggs, the glisten of the skin on the sausage, the black crust on some of the home fries, the crimson splashes of sauce on top of everything.
The hunter sat back and swallowed heavily.
"Sam, you okay? You look a little green," Dean asked, stabbing one of the eggs, allowing yellow yolk to seep through.
"Yeah," Sam swallowed again and peered down at his pancakes, "I'm fine. Just need to eat something."
Forcing his gaze to remain on his own breakfast, Sam cut off a large square of pancake and shoved it into his mouth. Lucifer chuckled from beside him and the smell of sulfur and cooked meat seemed to grow even stronger.
Don't think about it, Sam told himself; he's just trying to mess with you.
But all the same the hunter felt his gorge rise and he had to force himself to swallow the pancake in his mouth.
Without taking another bite, Sam pushed his plate away and drained his coffee mug in three long gulps.
Dean, chewing his food, stared at him.
Sam didn't say anything and crossed his arms over his chest, pressing down on the scar on his palm below the table so his brother wouldn't see.
SPN
Dean pulled out his wallet and set some bills down on the table, making sure to give busty Brenda a generous tip.
"Do you want a container for that?" the waitress asked as she returned for the money, pointing to Sam's pancakes, now nothing more than mush in a puddle of congealing syrup.
Sam shook his head.
"Okay, have a good day," Brenda said and took the money, leaving the brothers.
"Lets get out of here," Dean said and stood, more than ready to get out of town and find somewhere to hole-up for a week and play hooky.
The brothers exited the diner and started down the sidewalk, enjoying the warm weather. Or at least Dean was enjoying the weather. Sam's eyes were darting around like he expected ninjas to jump out at them from behind every parking meter.
Reaching out, Dean put an arm around his brother's shoulders, comforting.
"I'm right here, Sammy," he murmured, "I won't let anything happen to you."
The younger man nodded and sighed. Dean withdrew his arm, wishing he could do more to help his sibling than a few comforting words and gestures.
It didn't take long to get back to the motel.
"Hold on a minute," Dean said and unlocked the door to their room, "I've gotta hit the head."
Sam entered the room after his brother and sat down on the bed closest to the door to wait, giving the room an once-over to make sure he hadn't left anything.
After a few minutes, Dean exited the bathroom, "You have to go?"
Sam shook his head and stood. Dean looked up and frowned at a sudden commotion outside; skidding tires, slamming doors, hurried footsteps.
Turning to his brother, the elder Winchester saw that Sam's expression hadn't changed as though he hadn't even heard.
"SAM AND DEAN WINCHESTER!" a slightly nasal voice drawled loudly through a megaphone, "THIS IS THE FBI! COME OUT WITH YOUR HANDS UP!"
Now Sam turned to stare at Dean, "Did you hear that?"
"Of course I did," Dean hissed, his heart skipping a beat.
For a moment his brain suggested that it was Aaron Hotchner's team playing a joke.
"COME OUT WITH YOUR HANDS UP NIGHT OR WE WILL SHOOT!"
But the Supervisory Special Agent didn't seem like the joking type.
Taking a deep breath, Dean reached out and grabbed his sibling's arm by the elbow, "C'mon Sammy."
The younger man stared at him, wide-eyed.
"I don't think this is a prank," Dean said and he saw his brother swallow visibly.
"Just do what they say, okay?" Dean told his sibling, even though Sam knew that, "And we'll get through this."
Sam nodded, "Okay Dean, I trust you."
Dean approached the door and opened it, making sure his hands were visible.
"EXIT THE ROOM SLOWLY," the short man with the megaphone instructed.
Dean, moving only his eyes, took in the collection of FBI agents, local cops and a SWAT team van all parked in a semi-circle in the parking lot, boxing in the area where their room was.
"SLOWLY," the agent with the megaphone said, as Dean stepped out of the room and onto the sidewalk.
"KEEP MOVING FORWARD. SLOWLY."
Dean did as he was asked, not daring to look behind him for his brother but certain Sam was close by. He moved off the sidewalk and onto the asphalt, walking carefully between cars into the open space where they normally would drive.
"THAT'S FAR ENOUGH," the agent said and Dean instantly stopped walking, his heart pounding in his chest. He didn't see any familiar face in the crowd of people before him and that only added to his anxiety. This wasn't good, this wasn't good at all. He had no idea whether it was really the Federal Bureau of Investigation standing before him now or Dick Roman's Leviathans playing dress-up but either way he didn't see a quick way out of this situation.
"GET DOWN ON YOUR KNEES," the agent told him, "SLOWLY."
Dean dropped to his knees as slowly as possible, all too aware of the multiple guns pointed at him.
The short agent set the megaphone down on top of a police car and stepped forward, unclipping a pair of handcuffs from his belt as he moved quickly towards the hunter.
"Keep your hands where I can see them," the agent told Dean and the hunter allowed the man to tug his hands behind his back and cuff him. With one hand on Dean's arm, the agent helped him to his feet and started marching him towards the waiting cars.
Dean looked over his shoulder to see a mountain of a man in an FBI vest handcuffing his brother, hauling Sam roughly to his feet. The younger Winchester let out a cry of pain as his right shoulder was wrenched.
"Don't hurt him!" Dean snapped as the agent holding him opened the door of a squad car and started pushing him into it.
"Sam!" Dean shouted right before the car door was slammed shut in his face.
The younger Winchester was staggering a little, a deer-in-the-headlights expression on his face and Dean prayed he wasn't about to have one of his 'zoning out' episodes.
Dean watched as his brother was shoved into the back of a second police car and the assembled men and women meant to protect and serve- from local cops to Feds and SWAT team members- quickly went their separate ways.
A female townie cop climbed into the driver's seat of the car Dean was in and started the engine. Dean twisted in his seat, desperate to keep an eye on the cruiser his brother was in, his heart pounding in his chest and his mind reeling.
SPN
"We can't let this happen," Prentiss said as soon as the rest of the team had finished explaining what Lamb had said.
"I agree," Hotch said, his expression grave.
"Could we go to Strauss? She's has enough weight she'll be able to stop Lamb," Penelope suggested.
"And tell her what exactly, Baby Girl? That the FBI made a mistake and that Sam and Dean are innocent? Remember, we have pretty damning footage of them shooting up a bank and a diner," Morgan growled angrily.
"I just thought…" Garcia muttered.
"There has to be a way to prove Sam and Dean didn't commit those crimes," JJ suggested, "Maybe on the films? There has to be a way to tell that those two Leviathans aren't the Winchesters."
Garcia perked up, "I can get copies of the footage, easy."
Hotch nodded, "Let's start with that. Garcia and Reid I want you to watch those and look for anything that can put Sam and Dean some place else."
"JJ and Prentiss," he continued, "Will you go over their files? See if there's anything useful in them and refresh your memories of the crimes."
"What about us?" Morgan asked, indicating himself, Rossi and Hotch.
"We're going to have to make sure no one knows what we're doing," the team leader said, "And if we get a call for a case, it'll be our responsibility."
Morgan nodded, crossing his arms over his chest.
"I'll go get those videos," Garcia said and left the office; watching her from the window, Morgan noticed she was trying very hard not to run down the hallway.
"We'll go look over the case files," JJ and Prentiss stood and slipped from the room, heads together as they walked after Garcia.
Rossi sighed, "How did this happen? Surely the boys know to be careful in public?"
"I don't know," Hotch said, "But I'm sure Carter will tell us."
Morgan sneered, "That son of a bitch."
"Derek," Hotch warned him, "He's just doing his job."
"You okay, Kid?" Morgan asked, ignoring the senior agent.
Spencer didn't move, "They'll be okay, right? Lamb won't shoot them?"
"I think normally he wouldn't care," Rossi said, "But this being Sam and Dean Winchester, it'd be an ego boost if he brought them in alive."
Morgan snorted and turned his gaze back to the window as Garcia stepped back into the room, holding one of her many laptop computers.
"Lamb's back," she said, "They're here."
Author's Note:
Chapter title comes from an Avenged Sevenfold song.
Thanks to Slytherin Studios, QueenBea93, BranchSuper, Dustiniz117, reannablue, SamDeanLover28, and mullo1 for reviewing.
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