Wrecked Angles

Summary: Way too many civil servants, an old jail, ghosts… and a couple of clueless ghost hunters.

Thanks for the lovely reviews… A new chapter as promised.

Chapter Three

Sam eyed the clerk. "What do you mean we can't see the files? It's public record."

He and Dean had spent several hours in the library, finding only a few articles mentioning an incident at the jail in the early 70's. As the Averys had told them, two inmates died in the riot, but the details weren't known. The cause of death hadn't even been released to the papers.

Two dead prisoners. Two ghosts. One was pulling guards into the cell and trying to protect them. The other was trying to kill them.

According to the articles, one of the men who'd died had been a long time criminal with years' worth of arrests. Booze, drugs, theft, resisting, fleeing, multiple arrests for battery… Jackson 'Bud' Riley had been a real peach. He'd probably jumped at the chance to beat the crap out of a guard, especially if he'd had a beef with the guy.

The second inmate who'd died was a Peter Daugherty. He was a young guy who'd been charged with public intoxication. He'd apparently been caught downtown falling down drunk and had been locked up to sleep it off when the fight broke out. No priors. Probably a decent kid and probably the one who'd tried to protect the guard.

That just left the guard for them to find; someone who'd lived but hadn't told anyone what had happened in that cell.

The newspaper briefly mentioned that several guards and an officer had received minor injuries and that the inmates' deaths were still under investigation. As far as Sam could tell the incident had never been mentioned again, at least not publicly. Apparently, a dead sociopath and a dead drunk hadn't really been a great tragedy to the community.

One thing they did know and that was that neither of the bodies had been claimed. They had been buried at the county's expense in the lot near the jail used for pauper's burials.

None of which explained why someone had seen fit to bash Doug Avery over the head and attempt to burn down the jail. That left them with no other choice than to try and track down the original police reports. At least they might be able to figure out which guard it was in that cell and go talk to them. A quick call to Doug had informed them that records that old were kept in the courthouse basement. One of the clerks would have to dig them out.

"How can we not see the files?" Sam asked in irritation.

"I'm sorry, sir," the clerk said in an infuriatingly calm bureaucratic voice. "Those records have been sealed by order of Mayor Evans."

"How can he do that?" Sam demanded. "Ma'am, those records are public and over 30 years old now. Why would they be sealed?"

"Look," the tired, middle-aged woman said, dropping her semi-polite façade, "the mayor called down here and told me not to let anyone see them. After the policeman got killed at the old jail, he figured some nosy reporter type would come in here trying to make something of all the rumors."

"We're not reporters," Dean said smoothly. "We just…"

"Save it, sugar," the woman swiftly cut him off. "I don't care if you two are Santa's elves. The mayor is the guy who'll fire me if I let you see them."

"Ma'am, I haven't made Santa's Nice List since I was six," Dean grinned wickedly.

The woman looked at him in surprise and then had to grin in answer, a faint blush creeping up her neck. "I just bet."

Sam rolled his eyes, then coughed politely to draw her attention back. "The mayor only called you about the records after Nick died?"

"Last week," she affirmed.

"Interesting, don't you think?" Sam asked, looking at Dean.

"Is there a way we could ummm… liberate those records?" Dean asked the clerk, using his 'You know you want to help me' smile.

The woman laughed, clearly amused. "Sure. Go talk to Bob."

"Bob?"

"The mayor."

Sam and Dean shared a disbelieving glance. "The mayor's name is Bob Evans?" Sam pursed his lips in an effort not to smile.

She glanced at them and raised an eyebrow. "I'd suggest you not mention that when you talk to him or you'll never get to see those files."

"And where would we find Bob?" Dean asked.

"Down the hall to the left," she pointed. "If he's out then Tabitha will help you."

Sam nearly ran into Dean who stopped half-way out the door and turned back. "Tabitha Avery?"

The clerk nodded. "She's the deputy mayor."

Dean gave a short grunt of disgust and Sam had to laugh. "Thank you," he said to the clerk and pushed his now reluctant brother out the door.

"Maybe I should go wait in the car," Dean suggested once they were in the corridor.

"Man, I'm seriously starting to worry," Sam frowned. "I've never known you to avoid a pretty woman. You feeling ok?"

Dean scowled. "She would be pretty if she didn't look at us like we're only two steps above pond scum."

"She wasn't that bad." Sam grinned. "Besides, you shaved this morning. I'm sure she'll be impressed."

Dean just shook his head. "Dude, you can read women about as well as a eunuch. Trust me. Her mouth said 'behave yourselves.' The rest of her said 'drop dead'."

"She's lost her brother," Sam said reasonably, raising his hand to knock on the open door that read Mayor's Office. "She'll help."

Tabitha looked up as they walked in and she was already frowning. "I can't help you."

"Nice to see you, too, Tab," Dean muttered.

"Kate just called down here," she continued to frown. "She told you Bob doesn't want anyone seeing those files. There's nothing I can do about it."

"Sure you can," Dean observed. "You can call Kate and tell her the Mayor's Office will let us see them."

Tabitha was already shaking her head before Dean was even finished. "He won't allow it. I was given specific orders."

"We're trying to find out what happened to your brother," Sam pleaded. "It might give us the information we need."

"You think I haven't tried?" the woman snapped. "Bob won't let anyone look at the files."

"Why is he hiding them?" Dean asked.

"Bob worked at the jail during the riot," she replied crisply.

"Ya don't say." He took a step toward her, annoyed. "And you didn't think this was something we might need to know earlier?"

"Listen, you little degenerate." Tabitha stood up from behind her desk, glaring at him. "My father may think we should trust you to take care of this, but as far as I'm concerned you're trying to make a quick buck from my family's loss."

"Lady," Dean grit his teeth, "we're staying at the local roach motel and living off the dollar menu. You wanna see our bank balance? All we're getting from this job is grief."

"Dean," Sam said in warning. They needed this woman's help after all and Dean was glaring at her again. For a scam artist, his brother really didn't take it very well when someone accused him of dishonesty.

"You're telling me my father isn't paying you?" she said incredulously.

"Not a cent," Sam assured her and she looked genuinely taken aback. "Feel free to ask him yourself. That's not how this works."

"Yeah," Dean frowned, "your gratitude is thanks enough." For just a second Sam could have sworn that he looked hurt, but the tiny flash of emotion was gone as soon as it appeared.

Sam let out a breath slowly. "All right. Thank you for your help. Come on, Dean." He grabbed his brother's arm and began to pull him toward the door.

"What will you do now?" Tabitha asked, as if in spite of herself.

Dean pulled away from Sam and simply looked at her. Suddenly a full Cheshire Cat grin spread across his face. "You sure you want to know?" he asked. "I'd hate for you to get the wrong idea about us."

"Why?" she narrowed her eyes. "What are you going to do?"

Dean began to turn back toward Sam, but stopped still half-looking at her over his shoulder. "We're going to go dig up a body." Dean winked at her. "Trust me. It's more fun than looking at paperwork any day."

Sam wiped the sweat out of his eyes and threw the shovel up onto the ground. Jackson 'Bud' Riley's grave had been easy enough to find sitting amidst a neatly arranged field of graves. There were no fancy stones in this cemetery, only small plaques, the next body to go unclaimed buried beside the last. Just a name and bare dates, sometimes only a date of death if no one had been able to find a name or birth date.

The small field spread out behind the old jail, just another bit of land owned by the county. A sad, lonely ending to any life. Sam could only pray that a field like this wasn't where he would end up. With lives like theirs it was all too possible. A hunt gone wrong, two dead men with all kinds of fake ID but no real contacts, no money, no one to inform that they were dead and he and Dean would wind up buried side by side in the county plot with no one ever the wiser.

They had decided to take care of the friendly neighborhood sociopath first, since he seemed to be the one causing the most grief. The other ghost seemed to be pulling guards into the cell and trying to protect them from Jackson.

Dean pulled himself up out of the grave and reached a hand back to help Sam out. A bit of salt, a bit of lighter fluid and the bones were aglow. Sam quietly watched them burn, thinking as he always did now of another body burning. A body that meant far more to him. But the thought was gone again in an instant and he turned away and bent down to retrieve his shovel. His hands were already rough and blistered. Digging graves really was one of his least favorite jobs and they had one more to go.

"You two just can't take a hint can you?"

Sam looked up just in time to see a shovel swinging down straight for his head. If it didn't kill him, this was definitely going to hurt.

More tomorrow…