Juvenile
The ride over did nothing for your nerves. All you managed to get out of the boys was a "Henriksen." And an "FBI." All other conversation was met with a smack to the gate that separated you from the drivers.
You entered the building and had to manage each step carefully, as your chains not only connected your hands and feet, but tethered you to both boys as well. Four faces met you at the reception office; three glares, and one terrified. She had to be what, 21, 22? Poor thing. I can only imagine what they've said about us. Dean interrupted, "Why all the sourpusses?" You preferred to stay silent, trying to dissect the situation. You clocked three exits, and the name of the secretary. Nancy. She could be the ticket out. A cross necklace, and pink sweater vest. Convince her we aren't monsters and maybe she can be of use… The officer behind you grabbed your forearm and rested a hand on your lower back. "I'll show you to the cells."
"Hey, easy there Heffner." Harassment tends to be taken seriously in a court of law. Maybe that's my angle. You turned to Nancy, "We're not the ones you should be scared of, Nancy."
They shuffled you to the cell and slammed the door. You moved to the window to test the integrity of the bars…or at least you tried to. Having forgotten that your legs were all chained together, you ended up playing tug-of-war with the guys… and losing. "Guys, come on!" You chastised. "All right. All right. Sit?"
"Yeah." Replied Sam. Windows look reinforced anyway… The idiots who linked the chains did their jobs a bit too well, as you essentially had to play Twister to find any sort of footing. "Go that way. I'll…" Thinking you all had solved it, the boys sat abruptly.
"No."
They had lowered, and in doing so forced your torso down as well, facing them. Your legs were attached to each of their outer ankles, forcing them apart. Dean stared at the free show down your tank top, but Sam stood immediately, helping you out of the compromising stance. Once again, the three of you shuffled and sat. This time you landed on a lap. Both of their laps apparently, one cheek on each thigh. Their ankles were chained too close to separate and give you room of your own. You sighed, resigned, "This is as good as it's gonna get, isn't it?" Dean answered with a, "Yeah." And Sam simply nodded, his cheeks a bit flushed. "How we gonna Houdini out of this one?" Dean changed the subject. "Good question." Was the only response from Sam.
It had been a whole two minutes, and there was no more information you could get from the room. Or any skin left on your fingers. "Nervous?" Asked Dean. "No." You said as calmly as you could. "Yeah, well the massage my thigh is getting says otherwise." You looked down at your shaking leg, cursing it for betraying you. You sighed, "It's just…I've never actually been caught before…" You didn't like the taste of that. Vulnerability. "Awww, a law enforcement virgin." You snapped in his direction, "You really think it's an appropriate time to joke?"
"Whoa there Cujo, just trying to lighten the mood. Eases the nerves."
"She's right to be nervous." You hadn't even heard Henriksen's footsteps approach, damning yourself for not being more perceptive. He stood just outside the cell, honing in on you. "You gonna say something, or just gonna stare? I know they didn't get a chance to take my mug shot, so a picture is off the table…" He chuckled to himself. "Cute. Feisty. Didn't think we were that close, hell, we haven't even been introduced yet. So let's start with a name."
"Angelina Jolie."
"Listen kid, I don't think you quite realize the kind of trouble you're in. The two 'gentlemen' you've been hanging out with? Yeah, they're the worst of the worst. Not even on the 'FBI Most Wanted' list, cause we don't wanna scare the public. Look, I don't want to see a good kid go down that path. Hell, I don't even know if you were their protégé, or their next victim. Just cooperate with me here, and I'll get you off with minimal jail time. Less if you testify what exactly they did to you."
You knew Henriksen was throwing you a raft, hell, maybe even a way to save everyone once you were out. If he hadn't just been lying out of his ass. You knew the tactic well. He was going to play all his angles. Any of the charges slipped through, an eyewitness solidified the case. His desperation was apparent, and desperation meant instability. It also didn't help that he called you 'kid'. "Counter offer; kiss my ass." Henriksen looked shocked, but quickly collected himself. "So that's how it's gonna be? Well, I'm sorry you drank the Kool Aid."
"I'm sorry the Rogaine isn't working."
"Oh, she's got a mouth on her. Let's see how mouthy you are when it comes down to it." He began to walk away, turning around just before exiting. "You know, I'm technically supposed to separate the three of you. But if you think I'm removing those chains for anything but throwing your asses into maximum security, you are seriously senile." Desperation.
The door slammed behind him and you released the breath you had been holding. "You didn't have to do that." Sam said to you. "You could've sold us out." You turned to him. "Yeah, well, you can't trust Feds."
"Admit it, we're growing on you." Dean teased. You clenched your jaw and made eye contact with the floor, a small smile tugging at your lips. "I don't sell out my friends."
"Y'hear that Sammy? We've been promoted to friends!"
"Don't push it Winchester." He smiled at you and you elbowed him playfully. Call it loyalty, or whatever.
Twenty minutes of silence passed, bringing back your skin picking and leg shaking. The momentary humor did work wonders for your nerves, but not even Dean Winchester could keep them away for good. Footsteps down the hall alerted you to Henriksen's return. "You know what I'm trying to decide?" Dean huffed and answered, "I don't know. What? Whether Cialis will help you with your little condition?"
"What to have for dinner tonight. Steak or Lobster. What the hell. Surf and turf. I got a lot to celebrate. I mean, after all, seeing you lot in chains…"
"You kinky son of a bitch. We don't swing that way."
"Now that's funny."
"You know, I wouldn't bust out the melted butter just yet. Couldn't catch us at the bank. Couldn't keep us in that jail…" Maybe they were better than I gave them credit for. Or Henriksen is a complete hack. "You're right. Screwed up. I underestimated you. I didn't count on you being that smart. But now, I'm ready."
"Yeah, ready to lose us again?"
"Ready like a court order to keep you in a supermaximum prison in Nevada till trial. Ready like isolation in a soundproof, windowless cell so small that, between you and me—probably unconstitutional. How's that for ready?" The silence that followed emphasized the seriousness of your situation. "Take a good look at Sam. And Y/N." You snapped your head to him. "Y/N Weston. Yeah, I know who you are. Clean record, on track to graduate. The University of Arizona. Then poof! Off the grid. No doubt the work of dumb and dumber over there. Well, say goodbye. The three of you will never see each other again." Your stomach churned in rage over the situation. Monster kicks the crap out of you? Sure, you walked into it. But save a few humans, and they lock you up. It's bull. "Aw. Where're those smug smiles? I want to see them." You turned your head away and rolled your eyes as Dean answered, "You got the wrong guys."
"Oh, yeah. I forgot. You fight monsters. Sorry, Dean. Truth is, your Daddy brainwashed you with all that Devil talk and no doubt touched you in a bad place." Sam bolted upright and Dean clenched his jaw. Don't talk about daddy…"That's all, and that's it. And now you two did the same thing to poor Y/N here." You decided to intervene before it got really ugly. "A bit juvenile, don't you think? You've made your point, pissed both of them off royally. So go choke on your lobster." He smirked. "I'm sorry you see it that way. But you know what? Life sucks. Get a helmet. 'Cause everybody's got a sob story, but not everybody becomes a killer." The sound of helicopter blades distracted you momentarily. 86% of prison escapes happen in transit. This is our out.
"And now, I have three less to worry about." I still have a lock pick in my underwear. If I could just get my hands and legs free, that increases the boys' ability to run substantially. Henriksen tapped his watch. "Mm. It's surf-and-turf time." He laughed maniacally all the way down the hall.
