Special thanx to Nana56 who beta this for me.

Chapter 11---Accountants, Cops, and an Outburst

Roger Hathaway sat looking at the old dust covered paper, then looked-up at the two young men who sat in front of him.

He cleared his throat, "Well…this will take a while. There is a lot of information here gentlemen."

Dean couldn't believe what he was hearing; he didn't have time…Sam didn't have time. "What? No, we don't have time my…brother doesn't have time." He clenched his fists. He could feel the anger boiling inside of him.

"I'm sorry, but these things take time." He stared at Dean to gauge his reaction. He continued, "What does this have to do with your brother?" He knew this wasn't any of his business, but his job was a bit boring at times and he was a nosey person.

"My brother is in prison and this might get him out." He clenched his fist even more. He could feel his nails digging into his palms and he didn't care if he shed some blood. He was to blame for Sam's current predicament and he had shed a whole lot more blood than the few drops Dean would.

"He's in for cooking the books?" This was some juicy info and he got excited. This was more than just tax returns!

"It doesn't matter what his brother's in for, can you help us figure out what this is?" Mike interrupted. He didn't want Dean to give out too much information about what they where doing. They really couldn't trust anyone.

"Give me about a week I should be able to figure things out by then."

John looked-up from his papers "Where the hell have you been?" He eyed both men.

"I thought you'd be back by three, but it's now eight thirty. I've been worried sick about Sam. Is he okay?" A small tinge of worry was hidden within his voice.

"John, he's fine. Well…" That 'well' got Dean's attention and he felt the fear and panic build inside of him. "Not 100 fine, he's pretty beat-up. We went to the farmhouse and we found something."

John nodded his head "What did you find?" His excitement was obvious.

"We found evidence!" Dean said with a huge smile.

"Well, don't get too excited, we don't know if this will get Sam out." Mike cautioned, not wanting to give them false hope.

"What kind of evidence?" He asked, ignoring Mike's warning, not wanting to believe Sam would never be free. He had to believe this was Sam's ticket out!

"We found some accounting sheets." Mike sat down, pulling his trousers up to get comfortable. "If we are right about this, we might be able to put embezzling, extortion, or money laundering, on McLaughlin. But, it might not prove that Sam is innocent."

John nodded "This might." He pointed to the table and got up. He picked-up a manila folder that was on the wicker table "You know that old buddy of mine I told you about?" Dean nodded.

"He used his connections and got me into the police station." He said with a huge grin.

"That must be one hell of a connection! There is no way in hell they would let Sam's father anywhere near the case files…let alone take them home!"

"I have my ways of getting around little things like that. Anyway, this is a picture of Robin's face and here is a picture of Michelle's." He put the two pictures side by side

"Now, look at these cuts. The first thing I noticed is that the cuts…" He used his index finger to trace the gashes that where made on the girls face. "Start from the inside out. If someone was right handed, it would have been from outside in. Like this." He took his index finger and pretended to cut Dean in a similar fashion as the two girls, as if the killer was right handed.

"If the person was right-handed it would have been awkward for him to cut from the inside out. The wrist would have been bent in an uncomfortable position and the grip on the knife wouldn't have been strong, but it looks strong here."

"Sam's right-handed." Dean said gleefully.

"Wait. You can tell all of this just by looking at a picture?" Mike wanted to believe this, but he had to make sure all of his bases where covered to get Sam out.

John gave him a stern look "Yes." He said sharply "Also, look at the injuries. They're in the same place and they're cut in similar fashion. I think we have the same killer here."

Mike stood-up "Same killer? You're sure of this?" John nodded.

"It proves Sammy didn't kill Michelle!" John was so happy that Sam wouldn't have to spend any more time in prison.

Mike walked towards the files, studying every little titbit in the files. He had an alarmed look on his face.

"What?" Dean got a pit in his stomach; he was scared Sam wasn't going to get out.

"This isn't the case file I got. Are you sure you got the right file?" He hoped John got the right file, but part of him was hoping John was wrong. He knew what it would mean if John had the right file.

"Yes. Of course I'm sure. What file do you have?" John demanded, unintentionally raising his voice.

Mike didn't answer. He simply walked over to his briefcase, pulled out Sam's file and carefully placed it on the table. They all stared at it for a moment.

Mike took a deep breath and opened the file. Inside were numerous photos of Michelle, which matched John's file, a knife with blood on it, and Sam with blood on him. They mulled over the file for an hour when John finally spoke.

"Dean, this knife…is it Sam's?" He handed Dean the photo for his inspection.

Dean took about two seconds to study it and quickly answered with a negative.

"How do you know? You hardly looked at it." Both Winchester men gave him an indignant stare

"Don't give me that look. I'm the only one on your side and we have to dot our i's and cross our t's." He snapped back. He didn't mean to, but it was getting late and he was feeling it in every inch of his body.

"I know my brother's knife…he has two of them. I have them in his bag."

Dean walked over to his brother's bag. He took a deep breath…it was strange looking through his brother's belongings. He rummaged through some clothes, took a quick look at a picture of Sam and Jess, some books, a journal. Dean took a second and looked at the journal. He was a little surprised as he didn't know Sam even kept a journal. He'd read it later. At the bottom of the bag he found Sam's only two knives.

Holding both knives in his hands, he showed them to Mike. One of them was a ten-and-a-half inch fixed knife, with a blade length of six inches.

Then he showed Mike the folding pocket knife. It was four-and-a-quarter inches long, with a blade length of three inches.

"You're sure these are his only knives?" Dean nodded

"Take a good look at the picture." Dean returned the knife to its sheath and back into Sam's bag. Picking up the picture and showing it to Mike, he continued, "This is an expensive knife that looks like it was custom made. The details are elaborate. I can't say for sure without seeing the knife, but it looks like it was hand carved. Sam can't afford a knife like this. He testified that he had the knife with him, but there is no way this is his."

Dean took a deep breath and his muscles relaxed. They'd been tense ever since Sam got arrested.

"Alright, I found other inconsistencies with the two files. In the one I got, the autopsy report says that Michelle died from a laceration to her lungs…basically, she suffocated to death. But, in the one John got, it says she died from multiple stab wounds to the heart."

John took a deep breath, trying to take everything in. He shook his head. His son had really gotten himself into some deep shit! Dean kept stroking his chin…he was anxious about Mike's response to everything. He was scared that no matter what they found, Sam wasn't getting out anytime soon.

"This tattoo! I've never seen it before and it's not in my file." He felt disgusted at how someone could botch this case…crooked or overzealous cops or a new detective who had something to prove.

"Son of a bitch I knew the cops were crooked! Now we have proof!" Dean yelled.

"It doesn't mean the cops are crooked. It might just be that they wanted to close the case, no matter what." He looked Dean in the eyes, waiting for the fall-out from what he'd just said.

Dean clenched his fist and tightened his jaw. He was taking in sharp breaths, trying his best to calm himself down, to no avail. He could feel the tension building and he wanted to punch someone, anyone, so badly he could feel it in every part of his body. His hands shook and his lips quivered, but he didn't attack…Mike was Sam's only hope and his only hope.

"Besides, John got this illegally and we have to do it legally. I can go to the police station tomorrow and look it over." With that Mike packed everything up. "We will get Sam out." He reassured before exiting the room.

The Winchester men sat in the motel room quietly for a half an hour, neither knowing what to say to the other man. They wanted to comfort each other, but neither really knew how, so they remained silent, feeling the awkward seconds pass by. It was well past midnight when they finally fell asleep, feeling every ache and pain in their bodies.

The next day John walked into a small diner and sat at one of the stools. He picked-up a menu and sighed softly. His eyes were red and the small of his back was stiff and sore. He didn't get much sleep, but Dean got a lot less and he thought he would allow his eldest to sleep a little while longer. He needed some time to rest and, hopefully, when he woke up, he would have a clear head. John scrubbed at his eyes, rubbing the exhaustion from them. Taking another deep breath, he gave the menu another glance.

Nothing new. All the diners he'd been to offered the same "Grand-slam breakfast", it was nothing special. He flinched when he felt someone put their hand on his shoulder and, looking up, he saw it was Mike.

"You okay?" Mike still had his hand on John's shoulder. The look on Mike's face told the veteran hunter he either looked like crap or it wasn't good news.

"Yeah, just tired." Mike removed his hand, but kept the concerned look on his face. He was worried about these men. They'd both take it hard if Sam spent the rest of his life in prison.

Not wanting to get into small talk, John asked, "Did you find anything?"

"Why don't we sit at my booth? We can eat together and talk." Mike said flatly.

John got up and walked to the booth that was just a few feet from where he'd been sitting. He was a little surprised to see an attractive and very pregnant woman sitting there. The younger man sat beside her and put his hand over her shoulders. John sat, giving him an expectant look.

"Oh, this is my wife Elizabeth. She works for me." He laughed "She's my secretary. You know the old cliché about the boss sleeping with his secretary." He laughed again "This way I get both, I get to sleep with the secretary and the wife."

John laughed at this, "How many months are you?"

"I'm due in two weeks. I'm supposed to go on Mat leave soon, but my boss is a real hard ass." She giggled.

Mike made a face and held her even tighter. John started to play with his ring…he missed his wife the most when he saw happy couples.

"So, what did you find?"

Mike swallowed hard and removed his arm "Nothing. The file I got and the file they have is exactly the same."

John said nothing, but his facial expression spoke volumes. "When you got the file, where did you get it from?"

"I got it from a room with other closed cases, why?" He scrunched his eyebrows together as the waitress came to take their orders. When everyone had ordered, she smiled and left.

"You see, when I go for their case files and evidence, they give it to me, but you went into the room. The cops gave me the file, but I'm thinking they gave me the doctored file and you got the real one."

"How do we prove it?" Knowing it would be impossible to prove, he asked anyway.

"Unless we can get someone to rat out one…." He paused as the waitress brought the food, then left "One of them ratting out the one who changed everything is really unlikely. Cops stick together."

"In other words, Sammy's not getting out." John felt sick to his stomach "Sorry, I've lost my appetite." He got up.

"I'm sorry John." His heart broke for John, who would have to visit his son through a tempered glass window for the rest of their lives.

"I know, but thanks for the help."

"We still have the evidence from the farmhouse. We can still bring McLaughlin down." He said, trying his best in vain to brighten the situation.

John mumbled a "Yeah" as he walked away. Unfortunately, the thin man in the grey suit overheard their whole conversation.

One week later

"Sorry to keep you waiting." Roger said as he entered the small office and sat down "You guys really did find something."

Dean sat motionless with his feelings in a box, buried deep. He'd been quiet ever since he heard the bad news from his father.

"This is huge! Whoever these belong to has been up to no good." He paused to get a reaction from the men in front of him, but they both just sat there quietly so he continued.

"Alright. There seems to be some money coming from the strip club, money that was most likely made illegally. I found that some of the businesses have been laundering the illegal money from the strip club."

He pulled out some of the sheets and put them in front of the two men and they both leaned forward. Now their interest had been piqued.

"Especially the construction company. They show here that they did jobs for businesses or for homeowners that don't even exist. I checked the names out they definitely don't exist. In layman's terms, they say they did work they never did, making it look like they made money they never made. The money they supposedly made is really the money that was made illegally from the strip club!" He smiled.

"Now, I found something else in these. This man…" He shuffled the papers a little.

"See this man, he is only identified as Thomas, they deposited quiet a bit of money into his account several times. I think this is proof of bribery; possibly someone in power, someone who is keeping the illegal activities quiet."

"Son of a bitch!" Dean finally said and Roger smiled.

"Took the words right out of my mouth." Mike said with a smile. "Any ideas who this Thomas might be?"

"This account is from Union bank in South Dakota. It will be impossible to get their records without a warrant."

Three days later.

Dean sat on his bed watching as his father packed his bags. He had argued with his dad for an hour and a half, trying to get him to stay. He'd lost the argument and now, as he sat there in this god forsaken room in this god forsaken town watching his father leave once again, he couldn't help but feel that he'd lost his family and had failed his little brother.

John turned around and saw his son's vacant stare "I'm sorry son."

Dean met his gaze with tears in his eyes. He rubbed at them, hoping they wouldn't spring a leak, but the rubbing caused the tears to fall down his face.

"I know you are, but we are so close to getting this son of bitch! Dad, we have evidence; we have evidence that McLaughlin is a slime ball. We might have another suspect in Michelle's murder. We can get Sam out, why are you giving up?" His voice was small and broken. He felt physically and emotionally drained from everything that had happened in the last month.

His father sat down "We're not getting Sam out, Dean…."

"How can you say that?" He snapped back, standing up and wiping away the tears.

"I can say that because it's true." John barked back as he also stood-up.

Dean was about to say something he thought he would never say to his father. He was going to tell him that he was a lousy father, that he didn't believe in his youngest son and he was just running away. He took a deep breath to gather-up his strength.

"I hate you." Dean growled. He hated his father for giving-up. He'd spent twenty-three years chasing a demon and never gave up, but now, when it seemed hopeless, he was giving-up.

"You spent twenty-three years chasing that son of bitch. You never gave up trying to find mom's killer, but when your son needs you, you leave." Dean let-out a shaky breath.

"If you give-up, what kind of father are you? You're not even a father…a father loves and cherishes his sons, he listens to them, takes time out for them, he's there and not out on another hunt. Sam was right about you the whole time." His lip was quivering and he was breathing heavily as if he'd just run a marathon.

When he was done, he looked at his father for the first time in two weeks. John's eyes were red, tired and had black circles under them. His face was worn and his beard had grown to a thicker bush than he usually kept it. Dean's face softened when he realized what he'd just said to his dad. He really didn't mean it and he could see the pain he'd inflicted on his father. Why had he said those things? Was he so stressed that he would be so blatantly cruel to his own father?

John couldn't believe what his son, who never said anything bad to him, who he thought would never have had this opinion of him, had just ripped through him. It started to become difficult to breathe. Dean meant every word he'd just said and it was said with such hate and venom it had nearly knocked him off of his feet.

Dean stood there waiting for John to rip him a new one, but John just turned around, hiding the new tears that had fallen down his face.

"Dad…" John put a hand-up to stop him and continued to pack up his things.

The younger man wasn't going to give-up. He opened his mouth to try again, but was interrupted by his phone ringing.

"What?" He bellowed into the phone.

"Dean, it's me," came the voice of his little brother. Dean was so relieved to hear his voice!

"Sammy…."

"I need you to come see me and bring dad's journal. Don't ask why, just bring it. And hurry, okay? I need you to bring it to me right now. Don't stop and buy some stupid candy, no flirting with some bimbo, just get here NOW!!" Then he hung-up.

Dean stared at his phone for a second, shocked by his brother's odd behaviour.