Sam left the hospital in a daze. The entire conversation had left him reeling. Okay, maybe the car would be easier to find. Dean was in jail and wouldn't be going anywhere until Sam arrived to bail him out. Might as well walk to the jail and look for the car along the way. It hadn't been at Harkens, so…..best place to search for it, would be…? The town was small, five streets indeed and on every freaking corner was a bar or beer joint so he chose the closet one and began his search.
The Impala might be Dean's car, or rather, they considered it Dean's but in truth, the car was just as much Sam's as it was Dean's. The difference being, Sam didn't hold inanimate objects in close affection like Dean did. Dean drove it, repaired it, babied it, kept it running, lived it in, hell, it was probably the only thing that he loved unconditionally.
Sam wanted it back in his possession for that very reason. Well, that and the fact the trunk contained an arsenal of weapons that consisted of expensive, illegal and one of a kind weapons, some of which were irreplaceable. He wondered where the knife was.
He'd taken to carrying his own set of keys to the car years ago, back when Dean had gone to hell and given him the car and if he were to admit it only to himself, he felt closest to his brother when he was missing him when he was in the car, so finding the car became his priority.
Sam walked the entire town, all five streets, twice. He passed Barbie's dream house a third time in the distant hope Dean would have returned for another night with Cupcake but found no sign of the Impala on any street, in any parking lot or on any driveway. Hopefully that meant wherever it was, it and Dean were together. For that to be true the car would need to be here at the jail and there was no sign of it. He wondered where, if there was one, the impound lot was.
So, that was the jail?
He looked at the two-story building on the corner of what he assumed was Main Street. The building looked like at one time it might have been a bank. Taking a deep breath that ended on a curse, he opened the door and stepped through.
He'd thought about the best way to present himself to the Sheriff as he walked the town in search of the car. He'd considered using his Federal Agent ID. It would serve as the best way to remove Dean from custody, but had the suspicion he was now known through-out the town and doubted anyone would believe he was a Fed. Not when everyone seemed to know him as 'Sammy, Dean's little brother'. Didn't matter no one had ever laid eyes upon him before.
Well, no doubt who Sam was staring at. The man sitting at the sole desk in the office was short and as round as he was tall. Sam could tell this with the man sitting. He couldn't be more than 5'6, tops. Weebles wobble but they don't fall down. Sam hid a snicker, raising a hand to cover his mouth in an attempt to quell his laughter.
"Evening sir, how may I help you?" Weeble asked politely, rising to his feet. "Getting cold out there, snow's coming."
"Uh, yeah, uhm, hi." he cast a quick glance about the room. No cell. "I'm here about my brother…"
"Who might that be? You staying at the motel or just passing through? I know everyone in this town, no one is missing a brother…oh say, hey now, might you be little Sammy?" he snapped his fingers and waddled around the desk to stand in front of Sam. "I just bet you are. Nice to meet you, folks hereabouts call me Weeble. Deputy Weeble."
This egg-shaped shrimp had cuffed Dean to a hospital bed? Not a chance in hell unless Dean had allowed it.
"Yeah, Sam, I'm Sam." he shook the man's hand. "They told me at the ER, Mooch had pressed charges and once they released him, you brought him here."
"Oh, that Mooch." Weeble shook his head with a chuckle. "Ole Doris would have set him straight, she always does, last time she knocked him out by slinging a pool ball wrapped up in a towel at his head. Seen way too many Steven Segal movies, she has."
"Yeah, so anyway, I'm a little confused." Sam shifted his weight uneasily. "Midget said Dean cut his hand on a broken beer bottle and was taken to the ER for stitches."
"You betcha." Weeble said cheerfully. "Nasty cut too, clear across the palm of his hand."
"So this Mooch pulled a broken beer bottle on my brother, hurt him with it badly enough he needed to go to the ER for stitches and he's the one arrested for assault?"
"What? Oh no. No, no, no, no, got it all wrong. Doris walloped your brother with her purse, gotta respect a man who's being attacked by a purse and doesn't fight back, right?"
"How did he hurt his hand?" was it possible to grind through ones teeth?
"Well, seeing as how he wouldn't defend himself, he got beaten down by Doris and she finally knocked him down. Musta been a broken bottle on the floor and when he landed on his ass, guessing his hand found that there broken bottle."
Sam pinched the bridge of his nose, praying for patience and calm. "Was this the fight he supposedly broke up?"
"Fight? What fight? There wasn't any fight." Weeble drew himself up and huffed indignantly. "There's no fighting allowed at Harkens, you hear?"
"So, what do you call a woman attacking her husband with a makeshift slingshot?"
"Domestic dispute." Weeble rocked his weight.
"And a woman beating a man up with a purse?"
"Takes two people to fight. Can't call it a fight if punches aren't thrown."
"No one thought to intercede and remove Doris or relieve her of her weapon?"
Weeble looked at him aghast, an expression of horror crossing his face. "Confront Doris?" he gasped in dismay, five sausage fingers splaying over his heart. "Are you mad?"
"So, everyone just stood around and watched her attack my brother?" Sam sighed. He bet they would have done plenty had Dean raised his hand against the woman to defend himself and he doubted it would have been to aid his brother. "Why was she hitting him anyway?"
"Well now, it was only her purse you see. She didn't go after with him a pool stick or anything like that. She's been known to do that you know. She does love her Steven Segal movies…so, aah, guessing she didn't like your brother getting in her man's face. Wasn't any way Mooch would come out the victor in a fight with a man like your brother."
Sam held a hand up, halting Weeble in mid-rant. "I thought there was no fighting at Harkens?" he waited but Weeble just stared at him with a blank expression. "Why did Mooch press charges? Charges for what?"
"Well now, you see, that's the thing." Weeble said hesitatingly. "Your, eh, brother…..laid poor Mooch out."
"He did what?" migraine coming on. Sam rubbed wearily at his forehead. God, what a night this was turning out to be.
"Said if he can't beat the woman, he'd beat the man who let her get away with such behavior." Weeble brightened. Sam groaned, that right there was their father talking. How many times as a kid had Sam watched his father punch another man for the way his kids behaved?
Dean knew how to make a fist and throw a punch without injuring his hand so there was no need to fear he'd broken any fingers or knuckles.
"Where is he?" Sam wondered if it were possible to strangle oneself with unspoken words. It was certainly possible to restrict ones breathing when frustration clogged their throat. "Can I post bail?"
"You sure can." Weeble retreated behind his desk and picked up a file.
"Tonight?" it couldn't be this easy.
"Sure, long as the weather don't stop you."
"Pardon? The weather? Why would the weather be a factor?" he was going to need a drink, ok, maybe two. "Where do I post bail?" he rolled his head about, trying to ease the stiff neck tension had caused, making his shoulders ache.
"At the county court-house." he waved the folder. "Got everything you need, right here!" singing, Weeble the Wobbler who couldn't fall down was definitely warbling. "You'll need cash, mind you. Bail is probably $500.00 bucks, you'll need 10 percent." he gave Sam a look, seemed to consider whether or not to say something, then puffed up and said. "That would be $50.00, in case you…" he licked his lip when he saw Sam visibly struggle to remain still. "Sure, sure…..well, ok then."
"I have to go to the county house, post bail and then return here to get my brother?" he needed some aspirin and he was going to need the entire bottle of whiskey, two drinks wouldn't be nearly enough. "Can I see him before I go? And where is the county court-house anyway?"
"AAh, no." Weeble was now looking at him with sympathy. "See him, I mean. I'd let you, if I could, but I can't. It's not that I don't want to, mind you, but….."
"Who do I have to talk to in order to be allowed to see him?"
"Oh no. You misunderstand." Weeble waved his hand about the room. "I assumed you'd be able to see for yourself, we don't have any holding cells here. He was transferred to county lock up."
"When." Sam wasn't sure how he got the word out.
Weeble looked at the watch on his wrist, then up at the clock on the wall. "Sheriff left with him about two hours ago." he looked up at the wall clock again, "Come to think of it, he should have been back an hour ago."
"Where is county lock up?"
"Oh, first you gotta post bail at the county court-house. Then you go to county lock up to pick him up."
"They aren't in the same place?"
"Oh sure they are, just not the same building, same town though. You're in luck, both are open twenty-four hours, you won't have to wait until morning to get him out." Weeble was scribbling as he spoke. "Sure wish I could have kept him here for the night. He was knowledgeable about weapons. I'm on duty all night, would have given me someone to talk to. Bring him on back this way should the storm force you into the motel." he held out the paper he'd written on to Sam. "Here are directions from here to the court-house, then from the court-house to lock up."
"Do you have an impound lot here? I'm looking for my brother's car."
"Sorry, don't know anything about it."