Chapter Eleven: Catch that Buggy!

Never assume innocence. The bystander on the corner, the child across the street, anyone can be a criminal. The words had been spoken by an agent headed for his retirement party Victor's first day on the job. It wasn't the way the law worked, but it was how a smart law-man stayed alive.

There was something about the never-ending corn fields that was tampering with his reflexes. In this sleepy, unthreatening town, Victor had forgotten the first rule. Anyone can be a criminal. Even the Amish boy delivering donuts.

"You don't have any grounds to question Sam before legal counsel arrives!"

"He has information that I need!"

"Um-" Baum raised his hand. "Where is he?" All argument stopped and four adults wheeled in circles. There were kids bouncing on the couch, kids stuffing donuts in their mouths, kids having a war with bottles of spray-cheese.

"Hey! Cut it out!" The Pastor's voice was surprisingly assertive. "Where's Sam?"

No one answered. Most kids had their mouths full of donuts. Or cheese.

Donuts.

"Donuts!" Henricksen spun and barreled through the doors just in time to see a buggy pull away from the curb, three figures perched in the front seat. "Stop that buggy!"

All agents dreamed of the adrenaline-fueled car chase, sirens blaring, weaving in and out of traffic and dodging pedestrians in pursuit of the criminal with the money, hostage, drugs, take your pick. They practiced in a lot full of plastic orange cones and cardboard cutouts, waiting for the day it would happen in real life.

The mental image never included a horse-drawn buggy with an orange 'slow moving vehicle' sign on the back. This would be the shortest car-chase in the history of car chases.

The donut delivery boy cast a glance over his shoulder at the agent running behind him, and slapped the reigns to urge the horse onward. Dean tossed him a cheery wave and wrapped his arm around Sam's shoulders.

Henricksen turned at the corner, running the other way. He slammed into the car door, slid the key into the ignition, and waited for the engine to blast to life.

Nothing happened. The car sat silent and unresponsive. Code blue, no hope of recovery.

"No! No! No! Come on!" Henricksen clicked the key forward again and again. Nothing. He slammed his fists into the steering wheel, popped the hood, and bent over the engine. The battery was unhooked. The sparkplugs were gone, along with the distributor cap.

Sam and Dean Winchester had vanished into the cornfields.

Breathing exercises were another key tactic that old retiree had shared on his last day. Henricksen drew in a deep breath, counted to ten, and let it out again. Throwing a fit wouldn't get anything done. Step one; find the local auto shop. Thankfully, like everything in town, it was within easy walking distance.

An hour later, Victor turned the key again. The engine thrummed to life. Victor sighed, and turned the engine off again. The kids were long gone, and he had no way to track them. Amish didn't even have phones.

"Car trouble?" Baum bent his head to the window, a donut in one hand. "I got the address where that Amish kid lives." Baum worked his mouth around a bit of donut. "They say you can smell it for miles. A group of Amish women sit around every morning frying these things. Have you ever had a fresh donut, boss? Wonderful." Baum took a deep breath, and smiled. He held out a fully intact donut. "Got one for you."

"You got an address?" Henricksen repeated, staring. He grabbed the donut and took a bite. It was still warm. "These are good. Right, get in. We're going to pick up some kids, before that social worker finds them."

"Ah, about that, boss. I got an age on the older kid. He's sixteen."

"How did you do that?"

Baum shrugged, as if this sort of brilliance was no big deal. "I called the Lawrence, Kansas records department. They looked up his birth certificate. Dean is 16, Sam is 12. They're both minors. We don't have grounds to detain either."

"They stole my wallet and sabotaged my car."

Baum shrugged again. "You don't have any evidence of either, not enough to imprison a minor. I talked to headquarters, too. They said we can't detain the kids, not on the evidence we have now. Ms. Trickle talked to the Amish family. She said that as long as Sam and Dean have a safe place to stay, there's nothing she can do."

"Amish. Huh." Henricksen drummed his hands against the steering wheel. "You ever been on stakeout, Baum?"

Baum shook his head warily and took a step backwards. Henricksen grinned. "You might want to get a few more donuts. We are going to keep a close eye on those kids, and the minute one steps out of line, we'll be there."

And this time, he would be prepared.

NOTE: Hope you're having as much fun reading this as I am writing it. I've got a few fun ideas for Sam and Dean's next run-in with Henricksen. Please review!