A/N...Sorry for the delay...still, hope you like what I have here... warnings for police brutality and Dean hurt...and yucky mental images, if you wanna go there... I didn't...


Bobby allowed Sam to help him out of his van and into the wheelchair, neither saying anything about the disability. Sam wheeled him into the motel room as dawn was breaking over the horizon.

"Geez, Bobby, this is one sticky mess we're in"

Bobby hauled his backpack off his lap and tossed it onto the bed. "You're not wrong. Dean's not only in jail, but a sitting duck for any demon that gets wind of him. We gotta act fast on this one"

Sam leaned against the table. "That's if the cops don't do him in first. They think he killed Hobson's sister. He was beat up pretty bad before they even took him out of the building"

"That's just great. Poor boy's gonna have his work cut out just stayin' alive. Well, let's get to it. We need a plan. Put on the coffee and fill me in on anything we can use."

"Well" Sam said as he stood "None of the cops have seen me. I spoke to Hobson, the brother, once, but that's all. I guess that's gotta help"

"Thank god for small mercies" Bobby flipped open a large journal, and turned it to show Sam. "I got a bit more info on this demon, and it aint good"

"Well, that's all I need. More bad news"

X

X

X

They threw Dean so hard that he fell and hit his face no the edge of the shower stall, cutting his already bloody lip. "Get up, scum" the police officer growled. "This is just the beginning. Don't need you passing out just yet"

Dean groaned and rolled to his knees, his hands were cuffed behind his back. He shuffled up until he was standing, and turned to look at the five policemen who were 'processing' him.

So far no fingerprints, mug shots or history had been taken. They were pissed at him, and not afraid to show it.

He knew he would have trouble just staying alive until Sam figured out how to get him out of here. He guessed the only good thing was that they had been so lax in processing him that at least his prints wouldn't hit the official channels just yet, and alarm bells would stay quiet, for now.

What would happen when they finally did put his information in the system he could only guess. Of course, it was a pretty good guess, him supposed to be dead, and all…

"Take your clothes off" the largest officer barked at him. Dean's tilted his head, then turned to show his hands still shackled behind his back.

"Being uncooperative, are we?" a younger officer commented. "Looks like we're gonna have to help him out, boys"

The cops grabbed Dean and threw him to the shower floor, one of them brandished a large knife. Dean frowned. It was his knife. They cut his clothes off, roughly, nicking and slicing his flesh 'accidently' until he had only his boxers.

A look passed between the police and Dean felt his stomach turn to ice. The big cop bent, and cut his boxers off him. "Well, boy, we better check you're not concealing any contraband" he said, as one of the other officers snapped a rubber glove on his hand with an exaggerated flourish.

"Turn him over"

"Oh, fuck" Dean gasped, and started to struggle against four pair of hands. A sharp boot kick to the temple stunned him, but unfortunately didn't render him unconscious.

"Hold still, you sicko. I wanna make sure this hurts you way more than it hurts me". All of the police started to laugh, and Dean prayed to pass out.

X

X

X

X

Sam slammed the trunk after stowing Bobby's wheelchair. He was dressed in a suit and tie, a briefcase on the seat beside him. Bobby was already in the passenger seat, also in a suit and tie.

"How're we gonna explain knowing he was arrested? It wasn't on the local news"

Sam turned to Bobby, his face creased with worry.

"You were tipped off by someone in the crowd? I dunno… we'll think of something. You and your brother are great at thinking on your feet."

Sam started the car and pulled out of the motel car park. "Yeah. Yeah. Look. The thing is, they're gonna be pounding Dean into the ground. They think he killed one of their own, and they aren't gonna go easy on him"

"Well, main thing is we gotta find out just how strong their case is, and if we can get him outta there without going through the legal system. This time, just like we talked about, check out where they're holding him, and if bail is an option"

"You don't seriously think they'll allow bail"

Bobby shrugged. "Caint hurt to ask"

Sam pulled up at the local library and cut the engine. "You sure you'll be all right?"

Bobby nodded. "Demon don't know me. I'll be fine. Just be sure you check in as soon as you can, let me know how Dean is"

"Yeah, sure thing Bobby"

He helped the older hunter into his wheelchair and pushed him up the steep disabled ramp to the local library-cum-history museum.

"I'll call"

Bobby touched Sam's arm. "He's strong, boy. He'll be all right. And we'll get him outta there"

Sam nodded, and turned to leave. He stopped, and turned back to his surrogate father. "If they've hurt him any more…"

Bobby sighed. "They will have. Chances are, they beat him to mince meat. Best thing we can do is find a way to get him out. Soon"

X

X

Sam stood at the reception counter of the rather modern police station as he waited for someone to attend to him. There was a two way mirror behind the long polished wood counter top, and he had heard a chime when he walked in, so he know they were aware someone was there.

He tapped his fingers impatiently on the counter. Where the hell were they?

Finally a door opened, and a uniformed officer stepped up to greet him.

"Sorry to keep you waiting, sir. We got a troublesome prisoner that's taking up a bit of our time"

Sam pulled a card from his top pocket and handed it to the cop. "I believe you may be talking about my client"

The cop took the card but didn't look at it. "You wanna explain what you mean by that?"

Sam touched the card. "Sam Elliot. Attorney. My client was arrested last night and taken to this police station."

The cop looked at the card and back at Sam. "Got any other I.D.?"

Sam pulled out a photo I.D. and handed it to the cop.

"Why would anyone want to represent a piece of shit like that guy?"

Sam's lips thinned. "I believe my client is innocent until proven guilty. Did anyone actually see him do anything? Was he caught in the act? Murder weapon on him?"

The police man leaned on the counter. "He was right in the middle of the murder scene, he'd obviously been fighting, and there were two dead bodies, both stabbed. Red handed? Pretty much"

Sam rolled his eyes. "Sounds like a pretty thin case, to me. I want to see my client, right now, and he's better be in the same shape as when I last saw him, or there'll be more trouble than you can handle"

The cop sniffed disdainfully. "Well, he's a clumsy one, fell over a lot. Not our fault. Wait here. I'll get the chief"

Sam leaned on the counter as the cop walked back through the 'restricted area' door, and he glared at the two way mirror. He knew they would all be behind there, checking him out, and he was determined not to give them anything.

He had felt his heart sink at what may have happened to Dean, but was sure he hadn't let it show in his face. What would happen when he finally saw his brother, he didn't know.

X

Crowney frowned at the tall man behind the glass. "Re you gonna let him see his 'client'?" he asked his sergeant. The chief swivelled around on his chair and looked at the young man.

"He has a legal right to council, no matter what he's done. You know that"

Crowney sighed. "He killed Cindy"

Quiet fell in the office overlooking the front reception area. The lawyer stood there, tapping his fingers impatiently, glaring at the two way mirror as if he could see the police staring back at him.

"This guy will get him off on any technicality. They always do. I watch TV. I know what those hot shot big city lawyers can do, and the games they play"

The sergeant laid his hand on Corwney's shoulder. "That's T.V. This is real life. That douchebag aint goin' nowhere anytime soon" He turned to the desk officer. "Bring the shit out to his lawyer. Take your time. Stick them in the dog box, but make sure the D.A. is here before they start talking"

"What about some clothes? He's still buck naked"

The sergeant allowed a creepy smile to drift over his features. "We took that homeless guy in last night. See if there's something suitably gross in his pile of fetid stench we peeled off him."

The desk officer smiled back, and slapped Crowney on the back. "Don't you worry, bro. We look after our own"

Crowney looked up at him. "Hobson is gutted, man. That girl was his whole life. You make sure what ever piece of clothing you give him, that it's got shit on it"

x

The cop slapped him so hard his eyelid started to bleed. "Wake up, douche, your lawyer is here"

Dean turned his head, the cold shower drain had left an imprint on his bruised and swollen cheek. The cop threw a soiled pair of underpants at him. "Spose you'd better make yourself pretty for him"

Dean slowly lifted himself to a sitting position and looked at the underwear on his leg. They had been worn, and for a long time, too, by the smell of them.

"You have got to be kidding me" he croaked. "There things are disgusting. I can't wear them"

"So, you refusing to cooperate again?"

Dean sighed. Was it worth another beating? He slowly pulled on the filthy garment and stood, the movement taking a great deal of effort. He swayed and stumbled, the cop just smirking at him, he offered no hand to steady the beaten man.

"Come on, creep, time's a wastin" and he shoved Dean roughly down the corridor, making sure he was rough enough to push him into the wall on more than one occasion.

The stopped outside a door leading to what looked like a supply room, it was labelled 'Interview Room Seven" and looked pretty unused.

They stood here, not moving, and Dean felt his head growing heavier. He leaned against the wall, but that just bought him a night stick to the kidneys. "Stand up, you stinking pile of shit."

Dean gave him a pissy look, but he didn't speak. He was too sore and tired to manage a come back, and didn't want to be beaten any more. Especially as he was pretty sure it was Sam waiting to see him, he didn't want his brother seeing any more blood or bruises. Sam was going to be upset enough seeing what has happened so far.

They stood for nearly half an hour, the heat from Dean's body warming up the filthy underwear and allowing the aroma drift up to his swollen nostrils, which unfortunately were unblocked just enough to let the stench in.

He felt himself grow increasingly light headed, and knew if they kept him waiting like this much longer he would pass out.

Finally footsteps behind him heralded some change, and the police grabbed his arm and spun him around, slamming his back into the wall.

"D.A.'s here"

The D.A. was a tall man, not quite Sam's height, with thick black hair and luminous blue eyes. His features were sharp, his expression sharper.

"This is the pile of shit that killed Cindy Hobson?" he demanded.

Dean tilted his head but didn't answer. The cop tabbed him in the stomach with the night stick.

"Answer the man, you dirt bag"

Dean coughed, doubled over, then straightened. "No" he rasped. "I did am not the pile of shit that killed Cindy"

The cop hit him again, and the D.A. placed his hand over the police man's. "Unless you want more of your intestines tickled, you'd better give me some straight answers"

Dean coughed and spat a wad of blood at the attorney's shoe. "My lawyer is here. I want to speak to him. I aint saying nuthin' else till I speak to him"

The D.A raised his brow. "Brave one, aren't you? Well, let's get to it, then."

He nodded at the cop who opened the door to the interview room.

The police station was modern, it looked like it had been built in the last two years, but the interview room looked like it had been torn from the last century. It was cold, bare, the walls were stained and dirty. The metal table was dented and bent, the chairs were rusty and old.

Sam was standing in a corner, his briefcase on the table. When he saw his brother shuffle in, wearing some other dude's filthy underwear, his body covered in black bruises, marks and cuts, he couldn't help but jump forward.

"What the hell happened here? I demand you take my client to the hospital right now!"

The D.A. pushed Dean into a chair, wrinkling his nose at the stink coming off him. "This is the condition he was found."

"You gotta be kidding me. Where are his clothes? Whose underwear is that? These cuts and bruises are fresh, these have happened recently, not 12 hours ago"

The D.A smirked and raised his brows at the police office. The cop smiled back and leaned against the door, his arms folded.

"He soiled himself, so we had to remove his clothes. Those were the only spares we had. The rest? He slipped in the shower."

Dean slowly rolled his eyes over to his brother, relieved to see him, grateful to be sitting, worried that Sam was gonna pound someone after seeing the condition he was in.

"You will all leave this room. I will speak to my client alone" Sam's tone boded no room for negotiation, he was simmering, and it showed.

The D.A. pulled over a beaten up chair and sat. "First I think we need to discuss a few things with your client"

Sam stepped over to the D.A., allowing his height to intimidate the seated man. "First, I think you will both leave, before I feel inclined to physically remove you"

The policeman took a step forward. "Are you threatening us?"

Sam gave him a cold smile. "I wouldn't want you to 'trip' on your way out. But you will leave, and you will leave now"

They looked at him, then at the two way mirror that took up most of the wall on one side. The D.A. stood and nodded at the cop, and they started out of the door.

"This will be a private meeting between my client and myself. No recording. No listening in. If this request is not honoured, you know that his rights will have been violated, resulting in all charges being made void. Do you understand?"

The D.A. scowled and slammed the door behind him as he left. Dean smiled up at his brother.

"Dude, you so bad ass" he rasped, then rested his forehead on the table.

"Dean, my god, they've damn near taken you apart" Sam bent to his brother and tipped his head up, supporting his chin with his palm. He looked at the bruised and cut lips, one eye swollen shut and the other bright red from a burst blood vessel, nose swollen, cheeks blue and cut.

His brother was covered in cuts, bruises, swellings…. 'My god, what is that smell?"

Dean blinked, a single tear rolling down his face. "They cut off my clothes. To check I wasn't concealing anything…inside me. This is what they gave me to wear"

Sam shook his head. "Inside you? You mean…backdoor?"

Dean pulled his head back and looked away. "Not just there. Everywhere"

"Dean…"

"And they didn't just use their hands"

"Dean.."

"I fought back. I fought for as long as I could"

"Dean…"

The bright green eye, stained red and bruised underneath, turned and locked him with an intensity that burned with a fierce determination. "It's done. I don't want to talk about it any more. Can you get me out?"

Sam frowned, his eyes moist and his breath catching as he struggled to remain composed with the sight of his ravaged brother before him. "I will. I promise. Soon"

Dean laid his forehead back on the table. The room was cold, but he wasn't shivering. The cool stainless steel table top was soothing on his hot forehead.

"Find the girl"

Sam pulled up a chair and sat next to his brother. "What?"

"The girl. Ugly Betty. Find her"

Sam sighed. "I dunno if it'll help. She saw demons, and they were walking and talking when she left. The only thing she can do is clear you from kidnapping her"

"Still need to find her" Dean kept his face on the table, his hands on his lap.

"Cops will bring her in. Bobby heard it on the radio. They're looking for her"

Dean lifted his head with a groan. "Bobby's here?"

The door cracked open and the police man and District Attorney entered.

"Yes, your father is in town. I'll bring him by later" Sam looked at the two officials, then dragged his chair over to sit beside Dean.

The D.A. sat; the cop leaned against the wall.

"I trust you were able to confer with your client?" the D.A. asked.

Sam only scowled at him.

The D.A. opened a manila folder, and took a pen from his pocket. "Your client has not given us his name"

Dean growled. "No one asked me for it"

Sam placed a hand on his brother's arm. "Speak only through me" he said quietly.

"Does this mean you have held him with out charges and without reading his rights?"

The D.A. gave Sam a triumphant grin. "We can hold him for forty eight hours as a material witness without charges. You know that"

Sam nodded, trying to look like of course, I knew that.

A thought came to him. "He also has that forty eight hours to refuse all and any information until formal charges are to be laid" It was a bluff, but by the look on the D.A.'s face, it was a good one.

He slammed his folder shut and stared at the 'lawyer' and his client. "He will be charged. He was impersonating a federal agent"

"Are you sure of that?"

The D.A. once again looked stumped. "What do you mean?"

"Did anyone find any I.D.?" He looked at Dean, who was staring at him with pride. "Or is it with the murder weapon that you failed to find on my client?"

"He identified himself as FBI at one of the murder scenes"

Sam leaned back a little. "To whom?"

D.A. looked pissed. "The brother of the latest victim" he looked down. "And his partner"

Sam squeezed Dean's arm. "Anyone without prejudice?"

The cop stood straight, his face starting to color. "Are you trying to free a murderer?"

Sam regarded him with a sneer. "Not at all, officer. I am trying to get my client, an innocent man who happened to be left at the scene by the murderer, off. The real murderer is still out there"

The cop looked at the D.A., then at Dean, his fists clenching and unclenching, a muscle in his haw jumping. He looked ready to explode, but said nothing else.

The D.A. stood as the door opened again. "Time's up" the policeman who'd opened the door informed them, and Sam also stood.

"I'll be back later with a change of clothes for my client. I will be waiting to see him get changed into those clothes, and I will be taking pictures of his wounds, and his clothes. All of this will become evidence. Do you understand?"

The D.A. frowned, but nodded and walked ahead. Sam turned to Dean. "I'll be back. Soon"

Dean nodded, his face hopeful.

"I'll get you out. I promise you"

Dean nodded again. "I know you will. I have no doubt." He looked down at himself, the soiled underwear, his body covered in wounds. "Just…don't take too long, okay?"

Sam bit his lip to stop it trembling. He nodded, knowing if he spoke his voice would betray his worry.

He felt his heart tear into a thousand pieces when the door closed, the vision of his brother being roughly hauled to his feet searing into his brain.

brain.


A/N...please review...please?