Sam left Dean in the kitchen and headed straight upstairs to the shower, but he was met at their bedroom door by an over-enthusiastic Shallie. The little pup jumped so high in excitement at seeing Sam again that he nearly hurt himself in landing. Sam gathered him up and sat down on the floor, his back against Dean's bed.

"Hey boy. Did you miss me? Did you miss me, Shallie? Cause I sure missed you." Sam felt his throat beginning to ache with unshed tears. The little dog's happiness at seeing him shook off the bindings he'd wrapped around his heart, and Sam suddenly couldn't keep the tears back any longer.

"You take care of Dean while I was gone, Boy? Hunh? Cause that's your job, you know. You gotta keep Dean safe from Leslie when I'm not around. Okay?" He sobbed the words into the little dog's fur, and out in the hallway, Dean fought back his own tears at the way his little brother had just fallen apart and at the secret he'd shared with his pet. He quietly turned and made his way painfully back down the stairs, determined to give Sam the privacy he needed to heal.

Later, after the pizza arrived and John called upstairs to let Sam know, the youngest Winchester returned to the kitchen. His skin was bright pink from a shower in water that had obviously been way too hot. Both Winchesters noticed, but neither commented. Dean simply sat Sam down in front of a plate and plopped two slices of pizza and some leftover greens on it.

"Eat up, baby bro. Cause afterward, I'm restitching that mess on your head. Otherwise, you're gonna have an ugly scar."

Sam smiled without speaking, and Dean noticed. "What?"

"Nothing," He brother shrugged. "It's just …when they were stitching me up, I was wishing it was you. It never hurts like that when you do it. 'Course you always give me painkillers first." Sam took a bite of pizza.

Dean stared, "You didn't get painkillers before they did that hatchet job?"

Sam shook his head, intent on his pizza. "I didn't think I was hungry." He noted. "This is amazing."

Dean turned to his father in anger. "When do we meet with Sam's lawyer again about suing everybody in this whole damned town?"

"Easy, Dean. We go in tomorrow at 10."

Dean grumbled. "I want everyone involved in this shitstorm punished. I don't care if I have to do it myself."

John smiled indulgently, "Define everyone."

"Your asshole boss for one, Dad. He's the one that pushed for felony charges, according to the lawyer who came to see Sam while he was in there. Then there's the cops who never read him his rights and kept him from calling anyone. Maybe if he'd been able to call right away, my stupid phone would have still been working, and none of this would have happened. Then there's whoever did the facial reconstruction on him without painkillers and apparently with a dirty needle." Dean fumed, becoming angrier with each breath.

Sam stared at his brother. "It's okay, Dean. I'm okay. It's over now. I don't need revenge. I just need to forget it ever happened."

"Well I do need revenge, Sam. And plenty of it. I want it served up on a silver platter with power-hungry assholes hanging off the sides. Just because you're a kid, it doesn't mean you don't have rights. I can't wait to talk to that guy tomorrow. He'd better be on our side."

"He's a friend of Bobby's, Dean. He'll be on Sam's side. Don't worry."

And sure enough, when the trio arrived at the office of Benson, Carrington and Singer, they were quickly ushered in like royalty, despite being a good 10 minutes early.

Sam and Dean studied the name stenciled on the door. "Singer?" They mouthed in unison. But then Sam's lawyer, Wendell Singer, swept into the room, greeted them all and motioned for them to take seats at the roomy conference table.

"Sam, I think we'll begin with you. What can you tell me about the night you were arrested?"

"Uh, Well, Mr. Singer, they split me and Dad up and put us in the backs of separate police cruisers …" Sam started.

"Call me Dell, Sam. Everybody does. Even my curmudgeon of a second cousin, Bobby. And incidentally, that was their first mistake. You're a minor. You have the right to have a parent present with you at all times."

Dean was liking this guy already.

"Then they eventually took me to the precinct and fingerprinted me and took my picture."

Dell leaned forward. "So they officially arrested you. On what charges?"

Sam looked confused. "I don't know."

"Nobody told you? Not even when they read you your rights?"

Dean interrupted here. "They never read him his rights."

Dell frowned, looking at Sam. "That true, Sam?"

The younger boy nodded.

"You're absolutely certain? Maybe you were too scared or too nervous to hear the whole thing, but if they arrest you, they have to read you a Miranda statement. It begins, 'You have the right to remain silent and to refuse to answer questions. You have the right to consult an attorney before speaking with police and to have an attorney present during questioning now or in the future. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you … blah blah blah." He studied Sam closely. "Any of this sounding familiar?"

Sam shook his head. "They didn't. I'm certain."

Dell sat back, tapping his pen on the desk. "Well, balls." He snorted, sending Dean into a coughing fit.

"So when they took you back for questioning. They took you to an interview room, right?"

Sam shook his head.

"Where'd they question you?"

"They didn't. They just handcuffed me to a chair and left me there for hours."

"He didn't get his phone call either." Dean piped up.

Dell frowned. "At all?"

"Well, no. I mean eventually I did. But it wasn't until hours later."

"Hmmm. Strike number three. You get your phone call in the first hour, Sam. You're allowed two - one must go to a family member or friend. The other goes to an attorney."

Sam shook his head. "I called Dean first, but his phone was broken. Then I called Leslie."

Dell glanced at John. "Leslie's the girlfriend?"

John nodded. "She's my girlfriend. Yes."

"So, when did you get to tell your side of what happened?"

Sam shrugged. "I never did."

Dell looked disbelieving. "Not at all?"

"No."

Dell smiled. "Okay, Sam. Thank you. Now, John, let me ask you this. Does …" he checked his notes, "Leslie Benigan have parental authority over Sam?"

John shook his head. "Of course not. These are my boys."

"So, legally, she had no authority to request that the state take responsibility for him?"

John looked stunned. "No! Why would you ask that?"

"She had no authority to demand he be sent specifically to the Medina Juvenile Corrections Facility?"

"What!" Dean exploded. "Did that happen?"

Dell nodded. "According to Sam's records, Leslie Benigan presented herself as Sam's legal guardian and requested he be sent there ASAP." He glared at John. "You know Medina Juvenile has a reputation as the worst facility in the state? Rape, murder, assault - they're all commonplace at Medina. Mostly because it's the only facility in California that houses both juvenile and adult offenders together in the same, general population." He looked over at Sam. "Sam, I'm not trying to scare you, but considering your age and your … appearance. You're a very lucky boy that you got out of Medina when you did."

John sat dumbfounded, his mouth open, unable to answer. Dean looked like he was ready to murder the next person who spoke.

Dell turned back to Sam. "Now Sam, this next line of questioning might be a bit uncomfortable, but I need you to be truthful, okay?"

Sam nodded nervously as Dean interrupted, "Wait a minute."

"What is it, Dean?"

"Why is it going to be uncomfortable for him?"

Dell was straightforward. "Because it deals with his violent past and his history of animal mutilation."

"What!" All three Winchesters exploded in a single breath.

"Sam couldn't hurt a spider!" Dean barked.

"Where are you getting this information?" John asked, incredulous.

Dell looked down at the papers in his lap. "From his police file. It's all right here."

"Where'd you get the file?"

"I had it sent over last week."

Dean and John exchanged disbelieving looks. "Well, it's not Sam's file. I can assure you." John huffed.

"Sam doesn't even have a police file!" Dean added, pissed.

"I'd .. I'd never hurt … mutilate ... an animal." Sam said in a small voice.

Dell looked at the two men and the boy sitting before him, all with shocked expressions on their faces, and decided they couldn't all be faking. Not this well.

"Well, I can assure you all, this is the file the local police viewed when deciding whether to send Sam to Medina or send him home."

Without another word, Dell picked up the phone that sat in the middle of the table and punched in a number.

"Bobby! You old scalawag. It's Dell. Hey, gotta quick word association game for you, you willing to play? Oh, and I have the Winchester clan here. I'm putting you on speaker. That cool?" Dell nodded and punched a button and suddenly the room was filled with the sound of Bobby's television set to the Lifetime Channel. Sam could hear Tori Spelling in the background.

"Okay, you ready? I'm going to say something, and I want you to say the first thing that comes to mind, got it?"

"I guess. Ain't like I got nothing better to do or anything." Bobby's exasperated voice sounded across the line.

"Sam Winchester likes to see animals in pain."

"Hell no!"

"Sam Winchester is prone to violence."

"Shit!"

"Sam Winchester has a mental illness that makes him want to hurt animals and people."

"Balls! Dell. Where the hell you getting this from? That ain't MY Sam Winchester!"

Sam smiled at that, wishing he could reach through the line and hug the old hunter.

Dell chuckled, "That seems to be the consensus. And you've know Sam how long, Bobby?"

"Only all his damned life!"

"Well, all right then, Bobby. I'll let you get back to your Lifetime Movie."

"Bite me, Dell!"

Dell disconnected the line, chuckling. "I love getting that old goat's goat."

He straightened up then, and stared hard at Sam. "So Sam, I'm going to take you on your word that somehow, the police have managed to connect you with someone else's file. I do have your word on that, right?"

"Well, can I see it first?"

Dell nodded, smiling. "Smart kid." He handed Sam the file and watched wordlessly as Dean moved his seat over so he could leaf through the file with his brother.

"I have no idea what's going on here, John," Dell offered suddenly. "But if the local police managed to arrest a thirteen-year-old, never Mirandize him, never question him and send him to the most violent facility in the whole of California at the request of someone who wasn't his legal guardian and because they retrieved the wrong file, I'm pretty sure you have a case."