See part one for all notes, disclaimers, warnings, etc.

Note: Alright, this one took a lot out of me. There was much to get through and consequently, it's a pretty long chapter without much action (although it does move the story along). For the record, I've watched Skin, The Usual Suspects, and Shapeshifter several times. The following is my own interpretation of the events in those episodes. I hope it's plausible (as plausible as it can get in fanfic) enough for you to enjoy. I tried my best to get the details right and I talked with a lawyer friend of mine to create a scene as authentic as possible.

I won't be watching the rest of Supernatural season 2 until this whole thing is completed (I see four more chapters and I'm done). I don't want to be influenced by what might happen in canon. This sounds like a great motivator, right?

As always, your feedback is always welcome.

Chapter 10

Alan stole a glance at the young man walking beside him. Sam was once again dressed in his suit and was sipping the coffee they'd picked up on the way to the Philadelphia district attorney's office. Their meeting with John Fisher was scheduled to begin in just a few minutes. "You ready?" To his credit, Sam appeared outwardly calm, but Alan knew better.

Sam fiddled with his coffee, not quite meeting Alan's eyes as he nodded. "You think this is going to work?" The question came out very quietly, as though Sam were afraid the very words would release the panic that Alan was sure he was trying to contain.

"Just remember what we talked about, Sam." Alan had done a thorough job of prepping the younger Winchester the night before. There were no guarantees, but Alan knew he had a fairly good shot at having all the charges dropped against Sam. "Besides, I have an ace up my sleeve."

Sam finally looked at him, brows furrowed. "What's that?"

Alan shook his head. "Not a 'what' a who." He gestured to the front of the building where a man was standing in front of the glass doors.

"Who's that?"

"Let me introduce you." Alan thought about preparing Sam, but then dismissed the idea. He didn't want to ruin the moment.

"Alan, there you are," the other man greeted when they approached. "I would have gotten here sooner, but public transportation in this town isn't what it should be."

Alan raised an eyebrow. "You didn't hire a personal car?"

"I suppose I could have, but I had a friend pick me up from the airport last night." The man winked. "And that ride was worth it."

Alan couldn't help himself. He chuckled, bolstered by the confidence his friend exuded. "Denny, I'd like for you to meet my client, Sam Winchester."

"Denny Crane." His hand shot out.

Sam glanced from Alan to Denny. Alan waited patiently while Sam sized the other man up. Finally, Sam shook hands with Denny. "Crane, Poole, and Schmidt," he murmured.

"That's right, my boy." Denny patted his chest. "I'm Crane."

"Um, yeah, I got that." Sam sounded confused and Alan had to smile. First meetings with Denny always tended to send people for a loop.

"No, what you've got is the best." Denny clapped Sam on the back.

Sam looked down at him. "So I've been told."

"Let us proceed, shall we?" Alan spoke up, not wanting to drag out this initial meeting. "After you, Denny."

"Right, right." Denny preceded them into the building, heading for the bank of elevators on the far right.

"He's kind of…quirky," Sam murmured as they walked a few steps behind the older man. "He's really one of the founding partners?"

Alan nodded. "Yes, to both. But don't let him fool you, Sam. Despite what you might think, Denny has a magic touch and he plays a mean political game. Believe me; you will be happy to have him on your side."

"I get it." Sam looked at him as they waited for the elevator door to open. "Normally, it's just Dean and I. This is, well, it's kind of nice."

Alan's gaze was somber. "You and your brother are not alone."

Sam looked down at the floor as the elevator door sprung open. "Thanks, Alan."

The ride to the fourth floor would have been silent had it not been for Denny talking about his lady friend and what they had gotten up to the night before. Some might have found the chatter misplaced, but Alan often noted that it put clients at ease. Sam, next to him, was staring straight ahead, but the defensive stance was gone.

"John," Denny called and Alan saw the federal prosecutor exit an office as the trio alighted from the elevator. "Denny Crane."

The prosecutor walked toward him, surprise etched on his face. Alan swallowed back a grin. Bringing Denny along for this meeting had been a good idea. It paid to keep the opposition on his toes.

"Denny," Fisher said. "Good to see you." Handshakes were exchanged. "I must admit I wasn't expecting you here."

"I'm co-chairing the Winchester case." Denny leaned in, dropping his voice into a whisper that everyone could hear. "The boys are distant relations so of course I took a personal interest."

"I—I had no idea." Fisher sounded flustered. "Relatives, you say?"

"Right," Denny said. "I have to support family. You do understand?"

Fisher nodded. "Yes, yes of course. Why don't you follow me and let's see if we can't get this mess straightened out."

"See, what did I tell you, Alan?" Denny stated as they followed Fisher to a conference room and took seats. "John's a reasonable man."

Alan made sure to keep his face impassive. "Quite right, Denny. I should never have doubted you."

He glanced at his client. Sam hadn't so much as twitched when Denny had made his announcement. Alan assumed that acting a part was as natural for Sam as breathing. When he had first met Sam's father, John Winchester had pretended to be a police officer.

"The charges against this young man are quite serious," Fisher began, fanning some papers out in front of him.

Alan pulled out several manila folders from his briefcase and laid them out on the table. "There isn't much evidence to substantiate any of the charges against my client."

Fisher adjusted the glasses that were perched on his nose as he glanced down at the paper in front of him. "I beg to differ, Mr. Shore. We've got him as an accessory to murder and fraud."

Alan arched an eyebrow. "That would only be true if the principal offender was guilty."

For the second time that morning, Fisher looked surprised. "Are you saying that Dean Winchester didn't commit these crimes despite the amount of evidence to the contrary?"

"My brother didn't do anything," Sam burst out, leaning across the table.

"Sam." Alan watched as Sam let out a breath.

"Right. Sorry." It was offered grudgingly.

Alan turned his attention back to Fisher. "I'm also Dean Winchester's lawyer. His arraignment isn't until this afternoon, but the cases are closely related. If I can have longer than a moment of your time I can offer explanations concerning St. Louis, Baltimore, and Milwaukee. Once I'm done, you'll have no recourse but to drop the charges against my clients."

"That's a pretty confident statement, Mr. Shore. I'd love to hear your theory. By all means, explain to me how your clients are innocent."

"Innocent until proven guilty," Sam muttered to no one in particular.

Alan watched as Denny tried and failed to hide a smirk. In that moment, he knew the older man had found a quality in Sam Winchester he liked.

"Boy's got a good point." Denny's fingers drummed on the table once.

Fisher frowned at him, and then turned to Alan. "Proceed, Mr. Shore."

"Let's begin with St. Louis. My clients weren't even in town when the victim was murdered. In fact, the police already had a suspect in custody. There was a videotape that could put him at the scene."

Next to him, Sam shifted. "Alan." There was a warning in his voice, but the lawyer ignored it. Alan knew Zach Warren was a friend, but there was no room for sentimentality in a defense. Besides, Warren was safe. The next sentence out of Fisher's mouth only proved it.

"According to the investigation, the videotape was altered in some fashion," Fisher returned.

Alan shrugged. "That wasn't what the investigators were saying initially. In fact, according to the experts who analyzed the tape, there had been no tampering."

"It's a moot point. The videotape is no longer admissible. The chain of evidence was compromised," Fisher said.

"The videotape is not as important as the idea that someone else could have been responsible for the murder," Alan said. "Forensically speaking, it can't be proven that Dean Winchester was at the scene of the crime. Just like it can't be proven that the murder weapon found in his supposed lair was his." Alan paused. "For a jury, that's enough for reasonable doubt."

"But Rebecca Warren claimed it was Dean Winchester that attacked her. Not to mention the police officers who caught him in her house." There was a gleam of triumph in Fisher's eyes.

"First, neither of my clients is being charged with assault. But, no matter, it will only help prove my point." Alan stood up and locked his hands behind his back. "You see, it's a case of mistaken identity."

Fisher looked dumbfounded. "Excuse me?"

"You're excused." Alan looked from Fisher to Sam, who was looking apprehensive. They had talked about the supposed Winchester crime spree and Alan knew about the shapeshifters in both St. Louis and Milwaukee. He just couldn't say anything about it in a court of law. The only thing to do was to work around it. "Rebecca Warren was attacked by a man that looked like Dean Winchester. As for the police officers, it was dark. It would be hard to get a clear look in those conditions and who knows? Maybe the police-issue helmets they were wearing hindered their ability to see clearly as well."

"That still leaves Ms. Warren's statement." Fisher leaned back in his chair.

"My brother didn't do it. It wasn't him." Sam's voice was quiet, but he was glaring at the federal prosecutor. Alan turned to him and silently offered him the floor. "I should know, that—that thing attacked me, too." No lie there. "I'm the one who had to shoot him. He looked like my brother and I—I had to kill—" A choked off whisper with just a hint of quiver. "He was trying to kill us both. It was self-defense."

Fisher leaned forward, his brow furrowing. "How do you know it wasn't your brother?"

"He's my brother!" Sam snapped. "You think I don't know my own brother?"

"It's happened before," Fisher suggested. "Sometimes we really don't know the ones closest to us."

Sam shook his head. "I know my brother," he said, tightly. "But if you really want more than that then I'll give it to you. The monster who attacked us told us that he'd kidnapped my brother and left him tied up in the sewers. His plan was to use Dean as a scapegoat. Looks like it worked," he finished, bitterly.

"Isn't that convenient? It's the perfect excuse to explain any evidence against Dean Winchester that might have been found in the killer's lair. Looks like you've thought of everything, Mr. Shore," Fisher said, "but I'm not sure a jury would buy that."

"Really? I think they would completely understand the situation especially when both Sam and Ms. Warren testify to those facts. Not to mention that a few months ago, the body of the killer was exhumed and he bears a striking resemblance to Dean Winchester. So, you see, I think the jury will know that Sam Winchester killed the perpetrator of these crimes only to have the police mistakenly identify the killer as Dean Winchester."

"There it is again," Denny murmured.

Fisher glanced over at him. "What?"

Denny spread his hands. "Reasonable doubt."

"Fine," Fisher spat. "That still leaves Baltimore and Milwaukee." He paused for a beat. "And of course the fraud."

"There is no Baltimore case." Alan leaned forward, balancing his hands on the table. "Those charges were dropped. Detective Peter Sheridan framed Dean for murders he himself committed."

"Again, scapegoat," Sam muttered.

Alan laid a hand on his shoulder and looked down at him. "Sam, this isn't helping."

"I'm just…sick of this happening to my brother." Sam turned his doe-eyed gaze to Fisher, who shifted uncomfortably.

Sheridan was going to kill Dean. Would have, too, if Detective Ballard hadn't stopped him. Alan remembered what Sam had told him late last night. He gave Sam's shoulder a squeeze. "I know." Alan's next words were directed at Fisher. "Detective Ballard, Sheridan's partner, will testify on my clients' behalf as well."

"You seem to have all the answers, Mr. Shore," Fisher said, tight lipped. "I suppose you have an explanation for Milwaukee as well?"

It was a challenge that Alan willingly accepted. He nearly had Fisher right where he wanted him. "Yes. Ronald Resnick."

"The bank robber?" Fisher raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, so you do know about him." Alan punctuated the air with his hands. "I wondered. The federal authorities were so quick to blame my clients, I was afraid that Resnick was never investigated."

Fisher seemed to deflate. "Go on."

"Resnick was working alone. There are several witnesses at the bank that heard him make that statement. Furthermore, these same witnesses will testify that the Winchesters were trying to diffuse the situation and were not a part of it. Not to mention that several television cameras caught Dean Winchester helping a hostage who was having a heart attack out of the bank. Not quite serial killer behavior, is it?"

"So you're saying that your clients had nothing to do with the murdered victims at the bank." The muscle jumping in Fisher's jaw was evident for all to see.

Alan looked down at him. "It can be reasonably determined that Resnick killed those individuals. We won't ever really know the full story because Resnick was shot and killed by the police."

"If your clients weren't guilty then why did they assault those two police officers and run?" One last effort to make a case.

"You know for a fact that my clients attacked these officers? The officers themselves didn't get a good look at their attackers because they came from behind."

"Who else would attack them?" Fisher demanded.

Alan lifted a casual shoulder. "It's not my place to speculate. The burden of proof lies with the prosecution, not the defense."

Fisher scowled. "They still fled the scene."

Alan snorted. "Wouldn't you? Your Agent Hendrickson practically railroaded them for these crimes. As Sam has told you, the authorities seem bent on framing Dean. You think they wanted to take that chance? Do you think a jury would not understand their position?"

There was silence. It stretched for one minute, two, then five.

They were at a standoff, Alan knew. The arguments were strong, but he realized that Fisher didn't want to lose face. It was just a matter of waiting for him to work it all out.

He looked at Sam and noticed that the young man hadn't moved a muscle. The future of his family depended on this one moment. Alan marveled at his patience.

"So, John." Denny broke the silence. "When are you going to start campaigning?"

A prod in the right direction, Alan thought in silent approval. He kept quiet, letting Denny navigate this particular minefield.

Fisher looked startled. "I'll make my official declaration in June."

Denny nodded. "I think you have a good shot. Your track record as prosecutor speaks for itself, always seeking justice, not just a conviction at any cost. The American people will see that and choose the right man for the job. It's a shoo-in." Denny waved a hand in the air.

"Yes, right." Fisher cleared his throat. "Thanks for the vote of confidence."

"I know I'm going to vote for you." Denny stood up. "So what do you say we finish clearing all this up. Then we can have lunch, talk campaign strategies, ecetera."

"It certainly wouldn't hurt to have Denny Crane as an ally," Alan spoke up and then wondered if he'd gone too far when Fisher threw him a sharp look.

Denny puffed out his chest. "I'm Denny Crane."

"Right," Fisher murmured. "Not a bad idea at that." The prosecutor rose from his chair. "Well, I can see you've got yourself a good lawyer, Mr. Winchester. I wouldn't expect anything less from Crane, Poole, and Schmidt."

At Alan's quiet prod, Sam stood. "Yes, sir."

Fisher looked from Alan to Sam. "Right then. Mr. Winchester, the accessory charge is dropped because the murder charges against your brother are dropped. However, there is still the matter of fraud."

Alan spoke up. "Sam Winchester has no priors. He's established good credit. He had a full ride scholarship to Stanford. You've dropped the other charge, hanging onto the fraud charge would just be overkill."

Fisher considered him a moment. "Fine, I'll drop those charges, but only because there is no direct evidence against him. However, his brother is a different story. I will see you in court this afternoon at three o'clock for Dean Winchester's arraignment on fraud charges."

Alan began gathering up his papers. "Until then," he said.

"Alan, my boy, I'll meet up with at the courthouse later," Denny said. "Come on, John, I'm sure you know where the best steakhouse in town is, don't you?" The two men walked out together, leaving Alan and Sam alone.

Sam watched them leave. "Isn't that a conflict of interest?"

Alan smiled. "When it comes to Denny there's no such thing."

"Yeah, I guess so." Sam looked dazed. "It worked. It actually worked."

"Just like it was supposed to," Alan agreed. "You're free."

"What about Dean?" Sam demanded.

Alan shook his head. "The fraud charge is a serious concern. They've got evidence against him. We might have to plea bargain."

"He can't go to jail, Alan. Enclosed spaces aren't really his thing." The doe-eyed look was back.

"No one really likes going to jail, Sam, that's the whole point," Alan sighed, wondering if there was a defense against such an expressive countenance. He somehow doubted it.

"Look." Sam's shoulders drooped. "I can't do this without him, man. You've got to do something."

"We'll figure something out," Alan assured. "At least the murder charges are gone."

Sam's face turned red. "Uh, yeah. Thanks. I'm sorry I didn't—"

"Don't worry about it," Alan interrupted. The more he learned about the Winchesters the more he understood their importance to each other. "I need to go see Dean."

"I'm going with you." Determination fortified every word Sam spoke.

"Sure," Alan agreed. "You're a free man. You can do anything you want."

"Good, let's go then."

"Want to have lunch first?" Alan asked, already knowing the answer.

"No." Sam turned and began to walk out of the room.

Alan fell in step beside him, pulling out his cell phone. He pushed some buttons, taking the ringer off silent. In moments, the phone beeped and the inbox icon flashed.

Sam jabbed at the elevator button.

Alan entered his voicemail code. The first message was from Shirley Schmidt, wondering if they would have to do Denny Damage Control in Philadelphia. The second message was only a name and a number.

The elevator doors pinged and the two of them entered the car. As they descended, Alan hit a few numbers in order to return the last call. "Yes, Officer Blake, this is Alan Shore. Someone called me about an hour ago."

The elevator stopped and they exited, walking down the hallway to the main doors. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Sam amble next to him. The younger man's steps were much lighter than they had been when they entered the building. Alan felt a thrill of pride.

He frowned as the words pouring into his ear took shape. "What?" Alan barked into the phone, coming to a stop. He clutched the cell, his eyes going wide. "What hospital?"

TBC

Big thanks to those who are reading. Let me know what you think!