When the Sheriff returned the first thing that hit him was the tension between the brothers. He brushed it aside.

'Well…I found some interesting things today' began the Sheriff. He looked at Dean. 'Your supposed to be dead. Seems that you killed some people couple of months ago.' The Sheriff shook his head. 'You don't look the type to do that.'

'I told you,' said Sam fiercely. 'We hunt Supernatural things. The Dean Winchester they buried was a Shapeshifter.'

'So now it's all the Shapeshifters fault?' Laughed the Sheriff. 'Do you know how that would stand up in court? You'd have everyone in stitches.'

'But it's the truth!' argued Sam.

'Whatever,' the Sheriff shrugged. 'Right, let's get some pictures of those bruises. Not that it will do anything,' he muttered to himself.

Five minutes later the Sheriff had everything he needed and was preparing to take Dean and Sam back to their cell.

'You sure you're sticking with that story son?' asked the Sheriff. 'Coz it ain't very strong.'

'I'm sure,' Sam replied.

They were led to their cell, and nothing made Sam shiver more than hearing the cold metal door closing, and the keys locking it. He could be hearing that for a long time. His eyes were so tired, he could barely keep them open, so he sank onto one of the cots finally getting the sleep he so badly needed.

Dean sat on the other cot, his back up against the wall, his eyes wandering over his sleeping brother. He couldn't believe Sam had told the truth; why didn't he stick to what Dean had told him to do if they were ever arrested? Then at least Dean would have a chance of escaping jail. It wasn't obvious, but deep down, Dean was crying. How could his brother, the one person he trusted most, betray him like that? After everything he had done for Sam, one little fact revealed would most likely ruin his life.

Days went by; interrogation after interrogation took place. The Sheriff had a split decision on what he thought was true, and what wasn't. The body had been inspected, and the result had confused the sheriff completely.

'A silver bullet?' he had exclaimed when told of the findings. He had ordered a research of Shapeshifters immediately, out of curiosity, and to his utmost astonishment had found that the only way to kill a Shifter was a silver bullet to the heart.

He had actually become quite friendly with Sam, which made him question himself, but nothing he said to himself could make him not like the sandy haired boy. Dean, on the other hand, was not so nice. He had watched over them every single day, and noticed that Dean had not spoken a single word to Sam. Sam had given up trying. Whenever interviewed, Dean would spit out the same line: 'Ask Sam, he seems to know everything.'

Five days later the Sheriff received news: a van would be arriving the next day to ship Dean and Sam to the State Prison, where they would be put on trial. He had no proof to show the Feds the boys were innocent, so they were being moved. He sighed as he took them their food that night, wishing he didn't have to tell them.

'Look, boys,' he began. 'I'm gunna be straight with ya'll. There's a Federal van coming tomorrow to collect ya, to take ya to the State Prison, where you'll be put on trial. Those guys are harsh, I'm sorry but I've used up all the time I have.'

'I didn't think you liked us,' said Sam, suddenly not feeling hungry. 'You don't believe us, remember?'

'Well, the stupid half of me is saying you boys are innocent…I can see it by your eyes,' the Sheriff let loose another sigh. 'I did all I could boys.' He walked away.

'Dean,' Sam said softly. 'Look man, I know your pissed with me right now, but you have to listen. We need to get out of here…isn't there anything you can use to pick a lock with?'

Dean opened his mouth to make a comment, but clamped it shut and rolled over so he was facing the wall. They were both quiet for a moment before Dean spoke.

'What's it matter to you Sam; you're pretty much off scott-free,' he said harshly.

'Dean I don't want you going to jail! You think I want that but I don't! I didn't get us in this mess; why do you have to be a good little boy and follow Dad's co-ordinates? We're not getting closer to him by following them!'

'What, so this is my fault now?' shouted Dean, rising from the bed. 'My fault that you got caught too? I didn't choose to stay with the Supernatural hunting you know, Dad forced me into it!'

'Then you should know how I feel,' argued Sam back. 'I was fine at collage, doing well, getting my life back, when you waltzed up and decided that I had to come no matter what!'

Dean lunged at his brother, grabbing his jumper and slamming him up against the bars. He was so angry…the anger over the years had built up slowly, and now he had had it.

'I'm so sick of this Sam!' he yelled, letting a fist swing at his brother. Sam ducked, using all his strength to push Dean across the room. The slowly circled each other, their eyes on fire, their life of misery pooling out of their system. Sam lunged this time, tackling Dean to the ground. The rolled around, Dean finally placing himself on top of Sam.

'Haha,' he yelled in triumph. 'Try getting away from this!'

'OI!' yelled the Sheriff, entering the room with a bang. 'What's going on here?' He frowned at the sight of Dean on Sam. 'Get off him.' Dean stood up, wiping the blood from his split lip.

'Now, you two have to live with each other,' the Sheriff said. 'All the other cells are full. Can you last one more night?'

Sam glared at Dean.

'Obviously not,' sighed the Sheriff. He entered the cell. 'Get on your cot,' he ordered Dean. Dean sat down, and the Sheriff cuffed his left hand to the bed frame.

'You can stay like that for the night,' he grumbled. 'I don't want you two fighting all night; some people need their beauty sleep. And you,' he said, pointing his finger at Sam. 'I'm watching you…I don't want you to go anywhere near him, you got that?'

'Yes,' Sam said, rolling his eyes.

'Good!'

The Sheriff slammed the door behind him, and flicked off the lights.

'Bitch,' mumbled Dean.

'Jerk.'