Mask, ch. 12

I just wanted to say thank you so much for all the lovely reviews, and I'm sorry I've been so sporadic about responding. I'm grabbing time to write in bits and pieces, and that's about all I've been able to manage with the summer being what it is this year. It's a lousy excuse, but there it is. Anyway. I appreciate the reviews immensely. I will try to be better about saying that individually!

Then… Dean had been taken into custody and Sam was researching the potential connections between an old serial killer and a new set of murders. The FBI had just cottoned on to the fact that Luke knows the Winchesters.

Now…

xxxx

Sam packed up his stuff and eased out of the booth he'd appropriated hours before. He fished his phone out of his pocket, dialing Jo as he pushed through the door into the baking heat.

Voicemail. "Hey, I'm on my way home. Call me if there's any reason I shouldn't be there." He hesitated. "Is there any news on Dean? I think I found the connection we needed between this kid, Gabe, and the recent killings. And with the original killer." He paused again. "OK. Bye."

He dropped the computer bag into the passenger seat of the truck, climbing in and starting the engine. He wondered about calling Luke and decided against it.

The VIN of the Mustang had made tracing the ownership of the car easier than Sam had thought it would be. He'd had no idea that there were places online where you could do those sorts of searches for free. Who'd'a thunk it?

Prior to Gabe Will's title, there had been the junk yard where Dean had said the kid had bought the car and before that a Conrad Merley, a Buck Simons, and a Frank Berg. Merley had been the name on the title before the junk yard. That had seemed like a logical place to start.

Turned out that Merley had been the eventual identification of the body found in the Mustang, so Sam felt like he'd been on the right track.

Sam had put together a timeline of the original killings with the locations of where the women had been taken and where the bodies had been found as best he could from the news reports and other writings about the killings he'd discovered. He'd tried to match up Merley's movements with the list, but tracking the movements of a car and its owner from almost 20 years ago was not an easy task.

The most direct reference Sam had been able to find was a "Con Merley" named as part of a "John" listing from a prostitution sting in a city close to where one of the earlier bodies had been dumped. Victim number three in the original slayings had been found off Highway 77 close to Norman, Oklahoma. Merley had been arrested for solicitation in Oklahoma City just a couple of days after Regina Washington's mutilated body had been discovered. That had been the closest Sam had been able to come in trying to connect Merley and the care with the earlier killings.

As far as linking Gabe with the killings, the breakthrough had come when Sam had realized that Gold Canyon, AZ where the original first girl had been found was actually in the Phoenix area where the first modern killing had happened. He'd found Gabe's name in an online listing of people picked up for DUI in Pinal County. The date had been less than a week before a young co-ed from Arizona State had gone missing. Her body, mutilated with a number one tattooed on her forehead had been found outside of Pecos, NM.

He needed to know more about Gabe's route across the country during the months the murders had taken place. Dean's conversation with the kid had focused on the car itself. But now Sam wanted to know more about where Gabe and the Mustang had been. If he could link them to any more of the disappearances or bodies, he'd feel a lot more comfortable with the conclusion that either the car or the kid were somehow involved in the murders. Dean had planned on checking out the car and making sure it wasn't going anywhere the night he'd been taken into custody. Sam had absolutely no idea what had come of either part of that particular plan. It was frustrating as hell.

When he got close to town, Sam decided he'd swing by the mechanic's and see if the car was still there. If it was and Gabe was there with it, it might be worth the risk to see if he could engage the kid in a little conversation.

xxxx

There had been less than a handful of times in his years working with Hotch that Reid could remember having seen the older agent's stolid demeanor waver. This had been one of those times.

Hotch had actually opened and closed his mouth a couple of times before he'd gotten any words out.

"What the hell is going on?" To his credit, Hotch still managed to keep his voice perfectly steady despite his obvious confusion.

"I don't…" Emily's mouth was mimicking their boss's as she stared in bewilderment at the sheriff. "We…" She turned to Reid, and he saw the moment she registered that he wasn't nearly as surprised about the identity of the prisoner as she was. "Spencer?"

But before she could pursue it the sheriff spoke. "Agent Hotchner." Sweed stepped forward, face gray. His eyes went to Dean before skirting back to Hotch. "We need to talk."

"Wait." Morgan pushed away from the wall.

At the same time, Dean moved toward the bars of his cell, "Luke…"

Derek's head whipped between their prisoner and the sheriff. "What the hell?" Derek's voice was nowhere close to being as steady as Hotch's had been.

"Everybody out." Hotch's face was like stone.

"Wait." It was Dean again, voice urgent. "Luke. Don't…"

"Now." Hotch cut across whatever Dean had been about to say, pinning the sheriff with a gaze very few people dared disobey. Luke nodded his acknowledgment to Hotch, but gave Dean a quick smile before preceding Hotch and Morgan out of the holding area.

"Luke!"

The door's closing ended any additional contribution Winchester might have had.

Hotch held up a hand to forestall whatever Morgan had been going to say. He addressed Prentiss sharply. "Do you know that man?"

Prentiss was still looking more than a little gob-smacked by the presence of Dean Winchester in the jail. "Yes." She shook her head. "No. No. He…" She looked at the sheriff, confusion and betrayal on her face. "We…" Now she looked at Reid.

Spencer didn't know that he'd ever seen Prentiss so completely at a loss for words, either.

"Agents Prentiss and Reid met Dean at our house a couple of nights ago," Sheriff Sweed said quietly, sparing Emily from having to say it. "They watched the Battlestar Galactica marathon," he added, for a reason Spencer couldn't discern.

"At your house," Morgan said coldly.

Sweed met Derek's eyes. "Yes," he said simply, not responding to the anger in the other man's tone.

The sheriff's gaze shifted to Reid and away again. He knows, Reid thought. He knows I knew.

"And I'm assuming they met Sam there, as well," Hotch said tightly. "I would imagine he was with his brother."

The sheriff paused before he nodded. "Yes."

"Where is Sam now?"

"I don't know."

Morgan narrowed his eyes at the sheriff. "You don't know?" he asked, disbelief and a precariously held in check fury in his voice.

"No," the sheriff said. "I don't."

Hotch hadn't taken his eyes off the sheriff. "But you know who the Winchesters are. What they've done." He wasn't asking questions.

The sheriff met Hotch's eyes steadily. "I know who they are. And what they've been accused of doing." He paused. "I also know what they haven't done." He didn't break eye-contact with Hotch.

There was a long moment of silence.

"Do you know where Sam Winchester is, deputy?" Hotch asked. He kept his eyes on Sweed for a beat before turning his attention to the other local officer.

"No, sir," Rodriguez answered.

"But you knew he was here. Knew who Dean Winchester was when we arrested him."

The deputy hesitated for a moment, but then squared his shoulders, meeting Hotch's gaze as steadily as his boss had. "Yes, sir."

"You have got to be freaking kidding me!" This burst from Morgan, who shoved off from the desk he'd leaned up against.

Neither the sheriff or the deputy so much as flinched. But they were wary, eyes following Morgan when he paced away from the group of them.

Hotch sat down in a chair and rubbed a hand tiredly over his face, letting it rest momentarily across his mouth.

No one spoke.

"Why?" The question was addressed to the Luke, asked genuinely and thoughtfully by Hotch. "Why are you covering for them? If you know what they've done."

"Like I said, I know what they've been accused of doing, and I know what they haven't done." Luke sat in the chair across from the one Hotch had taken.

"What haven't they done?"

"They haven't killed anyone. They aren't sociopaths or murderers."

Hotch raised an eyebrow at the man. "And you know that how?"

The sheriff looked at his deputy and back to Hotch. "I just… I know these boys, Agent Hotchner. They're good men. They're not… they're not capable of what they've been accused of. I read the files. There were witnesses in each of those cases that said Sam and Dean didn't do what they were accused of. Hell, in Baltimore, it was the cop who arrested them who was the actual murderer."

Hotch watched Sweed. "You were harboring them before you had access to those files, sheriff."

The sheriff took off his hat and scrubbed both hands over his head. "Look. The boys have been friends of our family for years; since before this 'most wanted' thing happened. They stayed at the hotel a couple of years ago and, just, clicked, I guess with my wife and our boys. Then, not long after that, they stepped into a situation here …" he glanced at Rodriguez, "when I was… shot by a man who later went to our house and took Tommy. Sam was with him. Got taken, too. But he—Sam—he protected Tommy, kept him safe until Dean and … our other two boys could get there." He hesitated, seemed to be collecting himself before he went on. "If it weren't for the Winchesters," he finally said roughly, "Tommy would be dead, and our family would be in ruins." He cleared his throat. "I owe them everything," he said. "And I trust them completely. I know they weren't involved in these murders the same way I know they weren't involved in any of the previous murders they've been accused of."

Rodriguez's eyes hadn't left his boss while Sweed had spoken.

"Deputy?" Hotch's voice brought the younger man's attention back to him. "Is your experience the same as the sheriff's?"

The deputy shrugged. "I trust them because Luke trusts them," he told Hotch simply.

Morgan snorted.

Rodriguez's eyes flashed before he said coldly, "What? You don't trust things because he does?" He jerked his chin toward Hotch.

Morgan blinked. He didn't respond in words, but there was a shadow of recognition that passed over his face, and he gave the sheriff a more thoughtful look.

"I don't know the Winchesters like Luke does," Rodriguez admitted. "And I didn't like that Dean put the boys in danger by going after Potter with them …" Reid assumed the man was talking about the incident the sheriff had just mentioned. His jaw tightened at some memory that he then shook away. "But I've never seen anything from them that would make me think they would do this. And Luke asked me to trust him about them." He looked at Sweed. "So I did. I do."

There was another lingering silence.

Emily cleared her throat lightly. "You know, according to the FBI medical examiner, Amelia Santos was probably killed between midnight and 1am Monday morning. And as much as I hate to admit it—because I feel like a fool for not having recognized them—the Winchesters couldn't have killed her then. Reid and I were at the house, with them from a little before 12 until after 2."

"Time of death isn't exact," Morgan said sharply. "You know that. Maybe they killed her before you got there and kept her somewhere…" He trailed off with a renewed, suspicious glare at Sweed.

"Maybe," Emily conceded. "But I really have a hard time seeing that given my experience with the family that night—they were ready for bed, all of them, relaxed." She turned to Reid. "Spencer?" she asked, looking for confirmation.

Which brought Reid back to the attention of Hotch and Morgan.

Hotch turned toward him slowly, considering.

Morgan frowned, eyes narrowing. "Yeah, Reid. What was your experience?"

Reid felt his eyelid flutter into nervous blinking under Morgan's implacable stare. He took a breath. "I think it unlikely that Dean or Sam Winchester committed these murders or the ones they were previously accused of."

"And you're basing this on what?" Morgan challenged him. "A couple of hours watching television with them?"

Reid bit his lip, eyes flicking to Hotch and then to Emily.

"Reid." Hotch's voice was flat.

Spencer's shoulders hunched, protectively. "Based on my study of their files when Dean first made the most wanted list," he admitted.

Emily's mouth dropped open incredulously. "You knew," she said. "You knew when Dean came to the door who he was," she realized. "Damn it, Reid!" Her voice was a curious mixture of anger, exasperation, and embarrassment. "You can't do that, Spencer! You can't keep that stuff to yourself!"

"I know!" Reid hated that he sounded defensive, as well as twelve. "But I wasn't sure what…. When I saw Sam on Saturday, I didn't know that they…"

"'When you saw Sam on Saturday'?" Morgan jumped in now. He'd moved closer to Reid, and in spite of himself, Spencer backed up a step. This was not going to be good.

He cleared his throat. "I saw him at the diner Saturday morning, when we were at breakfast, I…"

"You've know they were in town since Saturday." Morgan barked. "Reid, I swear to God…"

"That's enough." Hotch's voice cut through the rising agitation in the younger agents. "This isn't helpful."

On a glare at Reid, Morgan subsided and Emily sat back unhappily, arms crossed over her chest.

Hotch turned his eyes to Reid. "We'll talk more about this later, but right now, I want your impressions of the Winchesters. Both from what you read in their files and what you saw Sunday night."

Reid moved his shoulders uneasily, trying to shrug off as best he could the weight of his colleagues' disapproval. "I'm sorry," he said. "I just… I don't think they're guilty of what they've been charged with and…"

"Why, Reid?" Hotch didn't want to hear his apology. He wanted to address the case. "What makes you so sure?"

Spencer took a breath, gathering his thoughts. "As the sheriff's already noted, there were discrepancies in their files. Especially with witness accounts. People who were on the scene who said explicitly that from their perspective the Winchesters actually saved them."

Morgan opened his mouth with a scowl, but Reid didn't let him speak.

"Yes, admittedly the witnesses often couldn't explain how. But the victims were the ones who most often tried to exculpate Dean and Sam when the Winchesters were accused. Additionally, the timing on the crimes and the Winchesters' actual presence at the location don't line up. I tried to raise this with Henricksen several times, but he dismissed it, said that the Winchesters were pros at flying under the radar and had to have been in the area when the deaths began. But I'm not sure. I think there has to be a way to check that. They've been accused of credit card fraud, so even if they weren't using cards under their own name, there may be aliases they used…."

"Credit card fraud," Morgan said tightly. "So they're not really innocent."

"No," Reid admitted – and he'd never said that they were. "But that's a long way from serial murder."

Hotch looked at the sheriff. "Are you aware of any aliases the Winchesters might have used?"

Sweed didn't answer immediately, and Reid wasn't sure if it was because the sheriff was considering lying or if it was just because he was trying to remember. Finally, Luke shook his head. "They've always used 'Winchester' with us."

"Hmmm," hummed Hotch.

"There's more," Reid went on. He ignored Derek's eye roll. "They just don't present as sociopaths when you're around them. There's no question that the relationship between Dean and Sam is unusually close. Probably closer, frankly, than is healthy for either of them. But they've also managed to form close bonds with the sheriff's family. In fact, I would say they consider themselves part of that family unit. Henricksen's profile has them diagnosed as pathologically co-dependent, unable to form relationships outside their sibling pair. But that wasn't what I saw. Dean exhibited definite protective behavior with both Jo and Jake – he came to the door to evaluate a potential threat to Jo as a maternal figure when we arrived, and he deliberately used physical contact to comfort and reassure a boy he most assuredly seems to view as younger brother of sorts." Spencer warmed to his subject. "Even on Saturday at the diner, the brief interaction between Sam and Jake that I witnessed was what I would consider to be socially appropriate. They hugged in greeting and Sam even seemed to know others in the community, acknowledging people at tables around them. Plus, Sam – the supposed submissive partner – was in no way threatened by the caretaking role Dean – purportedly the dominant sibling – took with Jake, which typically would cause insecurity and lashing out by the submissive at the weaker member of the group who might pose a threat to his own position in order to maintain… "

Luke's mouth had fallen slightly open. Reid stopped.

Prentiss cleared her throat slightly. "I, uh, would have to agree with Spencer based on what I saw. I haven't had a chance to really think about it too deeply, obviously, but superficially, I didn't notice any troubling behavior from either Sam or Dean Winchester. They seemed… normal. Though, looking back, I can see that both Jo and Jake were anxious about our being there." She looked thoughtfully at Luke. "How much do they know?"

They sheriff didn't even blink. "Nothing," he stated flatly. Then seemed to reconsider when eyebrows among the feds rose in disbelief. "Well, they know enough to know that the boys live a lifestyle that wouldn't recommend them to the FBI. But that's it." There was a subtle fierceness in his tone that went unchallenged.

When no one spoke, Reid said quietly, "I just don't see any indication that Sam and Dean Winchester have the type of personality disorder that would lead them to commit the torture and murder that we have here. Or that they would have committed this sort of serial killing in the past."

The silence that fell this time was less tense.

"Still," said Hotch somewhat dryly, glancing from Reid to Sweed. "They do seem to end up at a large number of violent crime scenes."

There was no offer of an explanation from the sheriff.

"So what are they doing here?" Morgan asked.

xxxx

When they reentered the holding area, Winchester moved sharply toward the cell bars. He didn't speak, but his eyes swept past Hotch, focusing intently on the sheriff.

"It's OK, Dean," Sweed said wearily.

Winchester shifted his attention swiftly to Hotch, eyes narrowing almost threateningly. "What did he tell you?" he asked suspiciously. After the conversation they'd just had, Hotch recognized that the man's agitation wasn't concern for himself, but for the sheriff. Worry that the man might have implicated himself and his family in the Winchesters' troubles. Interesting.

"Not much, frankly," Hotch said evenly. "Just that he didn't believe you and your brother killed these women." He saw Dean's gaze flick to Sweed again as he absorbed the fact that they knew Sam was part of this. "Or that you committed many of the crimes you've been accused of."

Winchester's attention came back to Hotch. This wasn't news to him. He wasn't worried about what the sheriff thought of him – he knew that.

"And?"

"I'm curious," Hotch said. And he was. This case was not shaping up the way he would have expected. At all. "About what you're doing here. About why these men would be willing to take such risks to protect you and your brother."

The color leeched noticeably from Winchester's face. "They didn't know," he said roughly. "Luke…."

But Hotch was shaking his head. "It's too late for that, Dean," he said. "Both the sheriff and the deputy have admitted to knowing who you and Sam were and harboring known felons." Behind him, the sheriff moved restlessly, clearly not approving the implied threat to himself being used to manipulate Winchester. "Like I said, though," Hotch continued smoothly, "I'm curious as to why."

Dean's eyes went almost desperately to the man standing behind Hotch.

"I think it's OK, Dean," the sheriff said carefully. He then gave a short bark of what might have been laughter. "It can't get any worse, right?"

Winchester huffed out a breath. "You've met me and Sam, right? You know our luck," he said with a wry grin at the older man. "I'm betting it can get a lot worse." On a heavy sigh, he rubbed at the back of his neck. He looked at Sweed, before saying to Hotch, still cautious, "OK. What do you want?"

"We want the truth," Morgan said.

Hotch knew what was coming even before Dean said the words, a smirking grin suddenly appearing on their prisoner's previously serious looking face. It was like he couldn't help himself.

"You can't handle…."

What Hotch didn't see coming was the sheriff.

"Dean." The word cracked like a gunshot in the enclosed space of the holding area, even though the sheriff hadn't raised his voice. The warning wasn't a shout, but it was a command and Winchester responded instantly—a start and a grimace at the older man that seemed to be an unspoken "sorry."

Sweed said tightly, "This isn't the time or the place." He sat exhaustedly in the chair that had been pulled up close to the bars, leaning over to rest his elbows on his knees.

Winchester hunched his shoulders slightly at the rebuke, but he met Sweed's eyes squarely. "I've been here before, Luke," he said. "They're not going to believe me."

Dean looked at Hotch. "You're not going to believe the truth," he said simply.

Hotch's attention went to Sweed and then back at Winchester. "Try me."

When Winchester still didn't say anything, Hotch prompted him. "You're on an investigation of your own?"

"Maybe," Winchester finally conceded with a look at Luke. Wariness in every line of his body, he sat down on the cot. He didn't elaborate.

"Another ghost? Like the one in Baltimore?" Derek asked. He seemed to be trying for "open" in his tone, but was really only managing "annoyed."

Winchester's eyes slid to Morgan. He lifted a shoulder, perhaps in concession.

"You think a ghost killed Amelia Santos?" Derek clarified.

Dean didn't react to the skepticism in the man's tone. "Maybe," he admitted.

"Why?" Derek demanded. He was being deliberately belligerent, Hotch knew, testing Winchester's willingness to be – or at least appear – reasonable. Good cop/bad cop was practically trite these days, used so often in movies and television that it was almost considered a joke. But when done well, the combination of a purposely unsympathetic questioner working in concert with a sympathetic listener often could prompt a suspect to open up more quickly than he might otherwise.

Hotch was watching Winchester carefully during the exchange, and he was struck by the stillness of the man. He wasn't fidgeting or being deliberately indolent the way he had been the previous day. He was poised and alert, every bit of his attention seemingly directed at Morgan. And yet Hotch could tell that Winchester was also utterly attuned to what everyone else in the room was doing moment to moment. It was almost… professional.

"Why did it kill Amelia? Or why do we think it's a ghost?" Winchester asked.

"Why a ghost?" Hotch took over the questioning again.

Winchester's lips pursed thoughtfully and for a long moment he studied the floor. He seemed to come to some sort of decision.

"The pattern of the deaths is like some from a number of years ago. The killings stopped abruptly, then." He hesitated before continuing. "Sam says that serial killers don't generally just quit. Usually they only stop when they've been stopped. Get caught. Or when they're dead."

And here was Sam.

Hotch decided not to comment on the younger brother's sudden presence in the narrative. "There are other ways they get stopped sometimes. Why not the guy starting up again? Or even a copycat?" he asked.

"Could be, but…" he paused. Looked at Sweed.

"What?" Hotch wanted Winchester's attention on him.

The man sighed and said resignedly, "There was EMF activity on the body of the girl that was dumped here. And around the dump site for Amelia."

"EMF?" Prentiss. "What…?"

"Electromagnetic field." Reid answered the other agent's question.

"How do you have electromagnetic field activity?" Morgan asked skeptically. "And how would you even know that it exists?"

"We've got a reader. I…"

"Was that the gadget was you were messing with at the site when we picked you up?" Morgan sounded doubtful.

Dean nodded, eyes guarded.

"You have an EMF reader?" Reid's eyes were wide, and he sounded ridiculously eager. "How do you get something like that? Can you buy…?"

"You can," Winchester said. "But I made this one." He said it shortly, but there was an strange note of pride Hotch detected in his voice.

"You made it?" Now Reid sounded impressed, and Dean looked oddly pleased, giving the younger man a small smile. Reid leaned forward, eyes alight with fascination. "How…."

Hotch pitched his voice to be heard over the slight babble of conversation he had to acknowledge he'd lost control of. "How do you know the body was giving off the EMF activity?" he asked pointedly.

Silence fell immediately.

Then Hotch knew. "The morgue." He looked at Sweed. "It wasn't kids messing around."

The sheriff had the grace to look somewhat abashed.

Dean answered sharply. "That was me and Sam. Luke had nothing to do with it."

Hotch leveled a stare at Winchester. "Maybe not. But the sheriff certainly misdirected us afterward," he said coolly.

Neither man responded, and Hotch waited deliberately until the silence got uncomfortable before he said, "How did you know these murders were similar to earlier killings?"

"Descriptions, pictures from the papers."

"How'd you make the connection?"

Winchester shrugged. "Sam," he admitted. "He, uh, was kind of obsessed with serial killers for awhile when he was a kid." Dean cleared his throat. "He's good with patterns and he remembered the details – the marks on their foreheads, I think – from the series of murders he'd read about during that phase of his geekdom." Now he looked at Sweed, shaking his head ruefully. "Every time Dad wanted to investigate a suspicious death Sammy tried to convince him it was a serial killer. For some reason he'd decided that would be better than a ghost or some other sort of thing being responsible."

Hotch felt his eyebrow go up. Other sort of thing?

The smile Sweed gave Dean in response was remarkably sad.

"So, where is Sam?" Hotch asked.

Blank stare from Winchester. "Dunno."

"You think he might have more information?"

Dean shrugged.

"I'd like to talk to Sam," Hotch said.

Dean maintained the expressionless look that said pretty clearly "yeah, good luck with that."

Hotch swiveled around to look at Sweed. "Any chance we can at least find out what Sam might have discovered while we've been interviewing his brother?"

Unsurprisingly, the sheriff's stare was very similar to Winchester's.

They seemed to have reached an impasse.

A light rap on the door into the holding area turned everyone's face that direction, and a tall young man with a slightly anxious expression stepped into the room.

"Uh, hey."

There was a sharp scraping of furniture legs across the floor as both Winchester and Sweed startled to their feet.

"God damn…"

Over the growl of Winchester's voice, the kid said loudly, "I'm Sam Winchester." And accompanied by the gusty huff of Sweed's burdened-sounding sigh, he added defiantly, "I'm turning myself in."

xxxx