Please see previous chapters for disclaimers, warnings, and story notes.

Sorry for the delay in chapters. I got sidetracked by other projects.

P.S. I live for feedback. Thanks!

Chapter 7

Alan followed the officer down the corridor until they came to a halt in front of a jail cell. He looked through the bars at the young man seated on the cot, staring at the floor.

Before the officer could announce him, the man in the cell raised his head. Alan met the direct, intense gaze without flinching. He felt like he was being assessed. There was no doubt in his mind this was John Winchester's son.

"Who are you?" The tone was guarded.

"This is your lawyer, Mr. Winchester," the officer responded.

Sam shifted his penetrating gaze toward the officer. Alan frowned as Sam tensed. It seemed as if Sam was waiting for an attack of some kind. When Sam turned to look at him, however, Alan couldn't read his expression.

"Legal aid?" Sam stood, arms loose at his sides. Alan didn't have to wonder at the defensive stance. He had only known John Winchester a short time, but it was enough to learn that the man always held himself as if danger lurked around every corner. Knowing something of the Winchester family history, Alan hadn't blamed him. Looking at Sam now, the trait seemed to have carried from father to son. He had a feeling that when he met Dean Winchester it would be much the same.

"Not quite," Alan finally answered. He gestured to the officer. "Mind letting me in? I'd like to talk to my client."

The fact that Sam took a cautious step back was not lost on Alan. He'd have to proceed carefully. The door opened and he stepped inside. Once he was sure they were alone, he stuck out his hand. "Alan Shore."

There was a moment, then two. Alan waited patiently. He'd dealt with Winchester paranoia before. Finally, Sam reached out and Alan wasn't surprised at the firmness of the handshake. Again, pure Winchester. It was fascinating, but not the focus of his visit.

"Sam Winchester. So, if you're not Legal Aid where are you from?"

Alan reached into his pocket and pulled out a card.

Sam took it from him. "Crane, Poole, and Schmidt. Out of Boston." His gaze narrowed as he looked at Allan. "This is a pretty prestigious law firm. There are even offices on the West Coast." Sam tilted his head. "How exactly did you come to be here?"

Alan could understand the suspicion he heard in Sam's tone. The firm mostly handled clients with money and the Winchesters certainly didn't fall into that category. Alan, though, had a debt to pay, one that he would gladly continue to pay for the rest of his life. He just hoped the Winchester brothers would let him.

"Your brother called me." Alan didn't intimidate easily, but even he had to take a step back when Sam straightened to his full height.

"That so?" Sam crossed his arms over his chest. "I think I'm going to need a little more information, Mr. Shore. See, my brother doesn't know any lawyers, especially expensive ones. Is this one of Hendrickson's little tricks?"

"Tricks?" Alan cocked an eyebrow. He suspected that there were things happening that he wasn't privy to. It certainly would explain Sam's distrust.

"I'm not giving up my brother, Mr. Shore." The statement was more of an oath.

Realization hit Alan like a thunderbolt. This wasn't just about a young man behind bars. It was a about family and protecting your loved ones. He now understood why Sam Winchester was questioning his motives. "I'm not asking you to do that, Mr. Winchester, I'm your lawyer. Any information we share is protected by lawyer-client privilege."

Sam stared at him for a long moment and then nodded. "Okay," he paused. "Dean really called you?"

Alan smiled. "Yes, he must have found my card."

"Your card?"

"I knew your father," Alan began. "He helped me with a problem many years ago. I've been waiting to return the favor a long time."

"A problem?" Alan could see the curiosity in Sam's eyes. "Was it a…special problem?"

"The only kind your father deals with. But I'm guessing it's a family business?"

"Yeah." Sam looked away. "But it's just us now. Dad's…Dad's gone."

Alan's heart clenched at the forlorn tone. He could tell by the set of Sam's shoulders that the grief was still fresh. "I'm sorry to hear that." There wasn't much he could say to ease the sorrow, but he could take comfort in the fact that it was within his power to keep what was left of the Winchester family intact.

"Thanks," Sam answered. His head snapped up and he stared at Alan. "You can't say anything. No one—" His eyes darted around the cell and out to the corridor.

"I understand, Mr. Winchester." And Alan did. The Winchesters' world was very much a mystery to him. The brief glimpse of it that he'd had all those years ago had been enough of a scare. He couldn't fathom living in the darkness all of the time. How they coped with it was their business. He could respect that.

Sam stared at him for a moment and then smiled. Alan was taken aback by how much younger he looked when not on edge. Sam sat on the cot. "So you're my lawyer?"

"Yes, Mr. Winchester." Alan unbuttoned his suit coat and sat down next to him.

"Call me Sam."

"Alan." He offered in return, opening the briefcase on his lap. He pulled out a sheaf of papers. "I've had a chance to look over your paperwork and I think we're in pretty good shape. They really don't have much evidence against you."

Sam nodded. "Yeah, that's what I thought, too."

Alan looked at him, eyebrows raised.

Sam ducked his head. "I was pre-law at Stanford," he said softly.

"Good school."

Sam nodded again.

"Well," Alan said, "unfortunately, you're going to have to sit tight for the night. Your arraignment isn't scheduled until tomorrow morning at 9 a.m. At that point, I'll be able to arrange bail. I'll have you out by lunchtime."

"Yeah, okay. I think I can handle that." But to Alan, Sam looked uncertain.

"What is it?" he asked.

Sam sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "It's just that—it's my brother." He stared at Alan, the expression his face one of earnest. "He could be in trouble."

Alan figured he wasn't just talking about the FBI. "He's in danger?"

"Maybe. It's just that I'm in here and he's out there. I can't—fuck, I hate this." Sam's hands dug into his thighs.

Alan wasn't sure what to say. "Look," he said, keeping his voice calm and even. "You'll be here less than twenty-four hours. I'm sure your brother can manage."

Sam's chuckle was rough. "You haven't actually met Dean, have you?"

Alan shook his head. "No, we've only talked on the phone. Why?"

Sam snorted. "You don't know my brother. But we can hope. There's always a chance that things will work in our favor, right?"

Alan was about to answer when footsteps heralded a new arrival.

"No." Alan heard Sam's heartsick whisper.

The door opened and a man was pushed inside the cell. Only when the door had been secured again were the cuffs removed from his wrists. He turned to face them.

"Hey, Sammy."

TBC