PART 4
Dean pasted on an innocent smile as the law walked up to the car door. " 'Afternoon, uh...Sheriff... I mean Deputy." Dean offered, seeing the badge and smiling pleasantly.
It was Maggie's useless idiot deputy, in the flesh. It was a lot of flesh…he was a big specimen. His crisp uniform was perfectly pressed, his close-clipped hair meticulous. He radiated the scent of some kind of strong soap. The deputy's expression was unfathomable, and Dean guessed correctly that he had absolutely no sense of humour.
"What's your name, boy? Where you from?"
Dean lied his answers with respectful courtesy.
The deputy continued his stony stare. "They allow speeding in your state?"
"Uh...no sir."
"I see. So you come out here to do it then, huh? 'Cuz out here we're just a buncha hicks who don't know any better, is that it, son?"
Dean shook his head vehemently. "No sir, we have nothing but respect for Louisiana law! I just didn't realize-"
"That we're smart enough out here in the sticks to catch a clever fellow like you?"
-crap- Dean was sweating. He wasn't trying to antagonize this giant, but everything that left his mouth seemed to do just that. He glanced over to Sam in desperation. -help me out, here-!
Sam, his tone conciliatory, gave it a try. "We're really sorry, sir. I know my buddy here was probably going too fast...just got the car fixed. We thought it would be safe to give it a quick test out here. We'll slow it way down from now on, we promise."
"Buddy, huh?" Deputy Warren Jessup; Baptist, Mason, Self-Appointed Moral Compass of Bethel County, crossed his arms, and narrowed his mind. "You two are some kind of queers, aren't you?"
"What! No!" Dean spluttered.
"Sure you aren't. Probably came here for looking for some Mardi gras action, just like all the other perverts from out of state.. You're a little early, ain't you?" The deputy spoke calmly, even casually…but his expression was icy.
Dean looked at him incredulously. "Come on, man! Just because we-" He didn't get the chance to finish.
"Get outa the car!"
Dean looked anxiously at Sam. - what the hell-?…
The deputy kicked the rocker panel for emphasis, and barked "NOW!"
That did it. Dean wasn't stupid, he really had tried to be courteous and respectful, but that bastard just dented his car! He flung the door open in a fury and leapt out as Sam tried to grab his arm and caution him. Too late.
Dean stood in front of the man, chest to chest-demanding, "Look, what the hell is wrong with you? Yeah, ok, I was speeding! I'm sorry! So write me a goddamn ticket and quit kicking my freakin' car!"
Deputy Jessup chose a non-verbal response. He decked Dean with a quick rabbit punch to the gut and spun him around by an arm, slamming him down hard on the trunk of the car gagging, before Dean could even think to breathe, let alone protest. Jessup moved with surprising speed for a man of his size, he had him cuffed in seconds.
Alarmed, Sam had instantly exited the car, but the deputy, one big hand still pressing Dean flat to the trunk, drew his gun and leveled it. He convinced him to drop to his knees, hands on his head. He too was cuffed, and both were hauled roughly into the waiting patrol car.
The brothers sat silently, bewildered, and more than a little fearful. They were driven away as the Impala, the driver's-side door still wide open, shrank and disappeared from view.
Dean muttered the understatement of the day. "This is so not-good!"
They were put into adjacent holding cells, separated by a wall of steel bars. Both Sam & Dean had their respective false IDs, but unfortunately, since they had different surnames there was no way to prove their blood relation without blowing their cover. Without the means to prove their brotherhood, their relationship was left to Jessup's fertile imagination for interpretation. They knew there was a higher authority than this bigoted deputy, one Sheriff McClary, but so far he didn't show. Which meant they were at Jessop's mercy until someone more reasoning arrived. And Jessop apparently had some issues.
Both brothers stood nervously in their cells, unsure of how to proceed. Jessop ran their names, which naturally came up clear—why else have a fake ID? He seemed disappointed. Dean was pacing, fretting about his car. He'd worked so hard to rebuild it, it meant everything. He was obsessed with the idea that it was going to be stripped or stolen. Sam, in the other cell, tried to calm him, to keep his unpredictable impulses controlled before this got any uglier. Further antagonizing the charmless Deputy was never going to be an advantage.
Sam cleared his throat and tentatively asked what the fine amounted to for their traffic violation. Jessop just stared at him. - Not a good sign…
Dean sat and glowered. They left his car at the roadside with the door wide open. That was so f—ked up. You had to be some kind of an animal to do something that ignorant with a classic like that. And his keys were still in it!
Jessop was on the phone, trying to drum up some sort of case against the two. But he was frustrated in that goal...the names were spotless, the VIN and plate seemed legitimate and he had nothing but the speeding infraction. Nothing official, anyway. He called to have the impala towed to the impound yard, and leaned back in his chair, watching them sourly.
He knew there was something wrong with them. Two guys, unrelated, a little too pretty, traveling together this close to Mardi-gras season. He didn't need much more information, he had them categorized as aberrant already. He was sure the taller one was gay; he seemed fussy. He was too soft-spoken, his hair too long, nails sorta shiny.. The other one, well, he didn't come across as obviously light-footed, but regardless, he had way too much attitude to forgive. Nevermind, he thought. He knew what was in front of him, he didn't need computer verification. Deputy Jessop relied on his fundamentalism when it suited him. He believed it gave him divine sanction for his unreasonable biases, lending power to his hatred...feelings which on this day he directed toward the brothers. At this point it didn't matter what the hell their transgressions were, they were going to atone for the sins that offended both God and the Deputy.
Dean had enough. He lost his meager patience and spoke up sharply. "Hey—Deputy Dress-Up! You planning to charge us with anything? 'Cuz even in the boonies I'm pretty sure we're entitled to a lawyer and a phone call!"
Sam groaned and dropped his head. -here we go—
The deputy turned slowly and stared. He rose, and stood in front of the cell. "It's Jessup." he said, quietly.
"Yeah, whatever." Dean said dismissively. "Last time I checked, speeding wasn't a capital offense. You've got nothing else on us...so why don't you tell us how much and we'll fork over the cash. Then you can throw it in your donut-kitty there and we'll get the hell out of here!" He had little use for cops...well, most of them, especially the stupid ones. And unfortunately, once he was riled, he was blind to the value and wisdom of treading lightly.
Sam prayed he would shut his big mouth before things escalated. He tried his best to defuse the situation. "Uh...Sir, I apologize for my friend, he wasn't brought up properly." he said, staring daggers at Dean. "What he means to say is-"
"I don't give a damn what he means to say." Jessup interrupted. "And I don't much care to hear from you either, you damned fruitcake!"
Sam was taken aback. Jessup wasn't going to let that false assessment go. He began to understand the source and depth of the lawman's animosity. And with that knowledge came the certainty that he was not going to be appeased easily. The best course was for them to remain silent and allow him to vent, and when he had said his piece, they'd obediently pay their fine and get out, and put a hundred miles between themselves and his dangerous biases.
Unfortunately, Dean wasn't buying in. "For the last time, we're not gay! He's just a guy I hang out with, and it's none of your goddamn business anyway!" Dean snapped. "So either charge us, fine us, or release us. It's not complicated!"
Jessup's expression hardened. "I'd advise you to listen to your paramour here, and keep a civil tongue in your head, boy. I don't think you realize what kinda trouble you're in. You know, there's book law, and then there's my law. Do you really think you wanna learn the difference?" The threat was abundantly clear. Sam stared imploringly at his rash brother, shaking his head and willing him to let it go. But Dean was hopeless. He refused to back down.
"Yeah, I kinda figured book law might be a problem for you. Lemme guess, your folks were first cousins, weren't they?"
The big man's face purpled, and for a moment he looked like he was going to have a stroke. But his impassive mask dropped back into place and he said nothing. He turned away from Dean and walked stiffly to the station door. He opened it, hung a sign on the knob, and closed it again. They heard the unmistakable click of the lock. He then turned to the windows and carefully pulled down the shades.
Contrary to his brother's, Sam's wisdom wasn't clouded by obstinacy, and having the good sense at the moment to be afraid, his heart-rate rivaled that of a rabbit on a greyhound track. "Jesus, Dean, can't you keep your mouth shut for two seconds? What are you trying to do here?" he hissed.
Dean glowered back stubbornly. He stared at the deputy. -Bring it on, fat-boy— he challenged silently.
Jessup returned, now sporting a strangely peaceful smile. He slipped his favourite gospel cd into the player on the shelf and turned the volume up a notch. Dean fully expected him to unlock his cell and straighten him out any moment now, he knew he'd said more than enough to provoke him, and he was ready…
But nothing's ever simple. The deputy turned and unlocked Sam's. He entered and ordered him to raise his hands. Sam complied, not wanting to antagonize the big man further. Jessup handcuffed him to the bars separating the two cells, in a manner that forced him to face the other cell. Dean watched nervously...this wasn't going the way he expected. He was perfectly happy to allow his mouth to jeopardize his own safety, but it was never his intention to bring the threat down on Sam. But the deputy simply turned and left the cell. He entered Dean's cell next.
Dean was trying to appear impassive, but in reality he was as tense as a drawn bow. -Come on, asshole, make your move-
But Jessup stood calmly. He faced Dean, a second pair of cuffs dangling in one hand. His other hand was blocked from his view. Fear began to push Dean's pride to the periphery and he was starting to regret some of the things that had left his mouth, with the usual, pointless eleventh hour hindsight. It dawned on him that this wasn't going to be a simple use-of-excessive-force on an unruly prisoner, something he was confidant he could handle. No...the good deputy had something else in mind.
Deputy Jessup spoke with the quiet control of a man who had full confidence in his own infallible righteousness. "You have two options here, boy. You can atone for your offenses until you are repentant. Or your partner here, can. I am giving you the choice."
For Dean it was no choice at all. He had enough experience to have some idea of what was coming, and whatever Jessup had planned, Dean knew he was solely responsible. Sam had been a voice of reason that he'd consistently ignored. "Leave him alone."
Jessup was a little surprised. Usually the mouthy ones turned out to be the cowards. He expected at least a little whining and begging. Still wearing his maddening little smile, he advanced toward Dean. But Dean had no intention of compliance. He wasn't too keen on option 1 or 2, he was choosing option #3—knock the bastard out cold, grab his keys, spring Sam and get the hell away. He threw himself at Jessup, but after all their down-time lately he was still a little rusty. He'd forgotten the speed with which the deputy had immobilized him earlier, and the lawman was well-seasoned, figuring correctly that if this one wasn't a coward, then he was cocky enough to try something stupid. Jessup stepped deftly to the side and brought the heel of his concealed baton down against Dean's temple, just hard enough to make him see a few stars but not hard enough to knock him completely senseless. Jessup didn't want him unconscious just yet.
Dean stumbled to his knees with a curse, and before he could shake it off, Jessup had hauled him up effortlessly and cuffed his right hand high onto the crossbars in front of Sam. Dean berated himself silently. –yeah—that was smooth-
The deputy puffed a little with the exertion, but he maintained his angelic demeanor. "Now...I don't usually offer the options twice, boy, but I'm feeling generous. Make your choice."
Dean shook his head, partly to clear his thinking, and partly to shake off Sam's anxious pleas to allow him to handle it. "Shut-up Sam...I got it, ok?" he growled. And glaring, he defiantly offered his other hand to Jessup, who repeated the action, fixing it to the bars, so that the brothers were facing each other.
Dean shot a wry look at Sam and rolled his eyes. But in reality he wished he hadn't been so cocky. Having gone too far as usual, he was going to pay the price. It was pretty clear that he was going to be taught a little Jessop law after all.
He suddenly remembered Daniel. He was coming in to press charges the day he vanished. If he had, then Jessup would have learned the truth about his lifestyle. And now it appeared he was dead. Dean realized they were in serious trouble, and thanks to his own hot-headed lack of self control he had placed Sam in real danger. His mind was racing, trying to play out the possible scenarios, to prepare. Whatever Jessup wanted, Dean was just going to have to shut-up now and take it, for Sam's sake. He masked his anxiety with a sneer of disdain.
Sam protested valiantly. He wasn't naïve, he knew Dean was in for more than he'd bargained for, and he too had Daniel William's fate on his mind. Daniel had been young and healthy, but he wasn't tough, and he had more than likely died under these same circumstances. And Dean might have a backbone of iron, but he still hadn't fully regained his stamina after the traumas of the past while, despite his vocal denials. "Look...c'mon, please, deputy! You already chose me first. You should have given me that option-"
"Stay out of it, Sam!" Dean threatened.
Sam ignored him. "Sir, I'm asking you...please, let's talk about this. We're not what you think we are, and we didn't come here to cause any trouble. The speeding was a mistake and we're sorry for that, and I agree, my friend's got a big mouth sometimes, but he's not a bad guy...neither of us are."
Jessup snorted.
Sam turned away from Dean and lowered his voice, trying to keep him from hearing. "Sir, please...don't do this! He's...he's not-" Sam sighed, trying to sway the man without raising his brother's ire. "Look, he's still recovering from an accident a while ago It wouldn't be fair, he's really not...uh-"
Dean heard anyway, and Sam was treading a dangerous path. "I said shut the hell up, Sam!" he warned through his teeth.
Jessup was intrigued. "Spit it out, boy! He's not what?"
Sam swallowed, and shot a furtive glance at Dean. "...Strong enough, for this."
Dean bristled at that, letting loose a string of heart-felt curses and delivering a furious kick to the bars that separated them. Jessup was properly offended by the language. On any other day he might have been touched by the loyalty shown here, but this blasphemous sinner really had it coming now.
"Well, that was very noble, son...truly inspiring. But I can see that your partner here is right enough to make amends."
Dean voiced his agreement, with a pointed glare at Sam. "It'll be fine, Sam." he growled.
Jessup chuckled. "Oh I don't think it will, really."
He stepped back and launched into a well-practiced oratory. It was spoken with all the solemn piety of a well rehearsed sermon. Sam wondered how often he'd done this before.
"I am Warren Amos Jessup, duly appointed Deputy Sheriff of Bethel County, and faithful soldier of the Lord."
-uh oh-
"I judge you to be in contempt of the laws of God and Nature and the laws of this county. You are convicted of the offense of deviance. You are convicted of the offense of blasphemy. And you are convicted of the offense of exceeding a posted speed limit of Bethel county and operating a motor vehicle in a reckless manner. Do you repent, sir?"
Sam and Dean had exchanged incredulous looks. –Deviance and blasphemy? Repent?… Great. Jessup was a certifiable zealot and they were stuck alone with him here in the twilight zone. Dean's brief thoughts of showing a more prudent attitude evaporated. "You're freaking nuts! No, I don't repent! You don't have the god-given right to do this, get me a lawyer, this is bullshit!" he snapped over his shoulder.
"Well alright, then…" Jessup said quietly. " And you won't be needing any lawyer now. Court is adjourned, you are found guilty. " He leaned toward Dean's face, saying quietly, "You brought this on yourself, son...you remember that."
The deputy calmly drew his baton. Sam couldn't help it, he had to turn away. The deputy saw it. "Eyes forward, boy! You watch this now and learn from it!" he ordered. Jessup drew back and struck Dean brutally hard across the shoulders. Dean winced and pressed his lips tight, determined not to utter a sound.
"Don't! Please, don't do that!" Sam pleaded. This was too hard to bear, so close yet unable to do a damn thing to stop it.
But Dean gave him a thin smile and quietly assured him that it really would be alright. He was a good liar.
"Do you repent-?" the deputy demanded.
Didn't matter if he did, he knew Jessop was nowhere near ready to quit. "Go to hell!"
This time it struck him solidly across his ribs. He exhaled hard but he kept his mouth clenched shut. It was more painful than he'd expected, but he shook it off and glared over his shoulder at the self proclaimed Officer of God.
Sam voiced another anxious protest, but Dean shushed him angrily.
"Do you repent?"
"Bite me!"
The third struck across the small of his back. -That hurt- He let out a strangled curse despite himself, but still he stubbornly shook his head at his brother. Sweat began to bead on his brow and dampen his tee-shirt. Sam urged him to appease Jessop, but he refused. He knew the type. Jessup was a bully, and one with an agenda. Dean knew that if he didn't satisfy the perverse need of this megalomaniac, he'd turn on Sam after all. Going through this half-assed would be a pointless sacrifice, and he figured he was in it now, might as well provoke Jessup to get it all out of his system for the sake of Sam's safety. And he had to admit, he had brought it on himself. "It's ok, Sam." he whispered repeatedly. It was as much for his own benefit as for his brother's.
"I ask you again...do you repent?"
Dean took a deep breath. "F—k you!"
Number four crossed the three previous welts, the friction broke his skin and Dean shut his eyes tightly and shuddered. -sonofabitch had a hell of an arm- He really wished Sam wasn't literally in his face. His felt his stoicism waning and the last thing he wanted was an audience.
Sam was becoming frantic, yanking at his handcuffs in vain.
Dean whispered "Don't, Sammy, please...just ride it out."
"I said, do you repent, damn it?"
Dean clenched his teeth and growled "And I said go to hell, you twisted freak!"
Blow number five struck a kidney. The pain was intense and sickening, and he moaned, his resolve melting momentarily as his knees buckled. -remember Daniel, protect Sam- He straightened up with a groan and gripped the bars harder.
Sam grew wild with frustration at his helplessness. His face was a mere foot away from Dean's, and it agonized him to watch the beating take its toll. He howled at Jessup to stop.
The deputy smiled benignly. "This can stop anytime. He knows what he has to say."
Sam turned pleading eyes toward Dean, begging, "Please...please, just tell him what he wants to hear!"
"I said...no," Dean panted. He wanted more than words could express for this to be over but he was sure the deputy wasn't done yet. He hoped it would be enough soon.
Number six must have been a good one, he didn't quite remember it. Nor was he clear about seven. But somehow, he managed to stay up, though he stopped his whispered reassurances.
The deputy knew what he was doing, he'd done it often enough to hone his methods and his blows were skillfully aimed. Dean quit trying to stand at eight. And he cried out despite his gritted resolve at nine.
But ten...ten was a good round number. Ten had to be enough. When the question was put to him yet again, he caught Sam's anguished eyes before closing his own, and whispered a different answer, almost too quietly to hear.
Jessup leaned close. "Say again?"
Dean's head lolled, and he breathed in short gasps. His eyes were glazed and his full weight now hung painfully on his hand-cuffed wrists. Dean was done, whether the good deputy was or not. He lifted his head and tried to raise his voice above a whisper. "I repent."
"Don't think I heard you quite right." Jessop delivered a final lesson for posterity , slamming the heel of the weapon viciously hard into Dean's right side. He gasped at the crunch of bone.
"You heard him fine, you sick sonofabitch!" Sam howled, tears streaming shamelessly. "He said what you wanted!"
Jessup just regarded him serenely. He was satisfied, his work was done here. He'd delivered his sentence, it was up to god to do the forgiving. He undid the cuffs and let Dean's limp form drop. Stubborn bastard...if he'd begged, he might've allowed it to end at five or six.
Dean passed out as he hit the floor. Jessup stepped over him and informed Sam that the fine owed for the speeding ticket was $175, cash, debit or credit. They could go anytime after it was paid. He strongly encouraged him to leave the county, drive safely from now on, and have a nice day.
As soon as Sam had paid it, he was allowed to return to Dean's cell, and he knelt anxiously at his side. He cradled his head and peered into his face, trying hard to keep his emotions in check. "Aw Dean….aw man..."
Dean drifted near consciousness, lying in a fetal trembling with shock. Spots of blood were beginning to seep into the sweat of his tee-shirt. He blinked several times, and whispered, "Sammy...?"
"I'm here, Dean." Sam spoke to him gently, patting his damp face. He really needed him to come around. At the moment, Jessop ignored them, but he was worried the deputy would change his mind, or their pictures would come up in the database. The sooner they fled this nuthouse the better.
"C'mon, Dean...I know it hurts, but you need to get up. The Impala is waiting, he'll let us go if you can leave right now. Please, Dean...you have to try-"
"Can't." Dean whispered. "You go ahead, Sam...I'll catch up later."
Sam wiped his own eyes clear and slid his hands under Dean's shoulders. "Sorry, man...it's gotta be now." He hauled him up, and slung him over his shoulder, closing his ears to his weak protests and carrying him to the impound yard where the Impala waited unharmed. He folded him into the back, ignoring his strangled cry. No chance to make him comfortable at the moment. He'd seek some sort of medical attention as soon as he was able to stop safely. He turned the key and hit the gas as the car roared to life. And without a backward glance he fled the scene of their bizarre and unhappy encounter. Deputy Jessup tailed him, smiling, all the way to the state border.
Dean lay on his side, cursing quietly with the jolting of the car. The touch of the firm seat against his bludgeoned back was excruciating. He tried to quell the waves of nausea, but it was a losing battle. "Aw, crap… Sam, pull over—I'm gonna be sick!"
"I can't, Dean...Jessup's right on my tail. Just do what you have to, it's ok, I'll fix it all up again, don't worry." Sam glanced in the rear-view and winced in sympathy as his brother swore and retched repeatedly.
"Water?" Dean rasped, wiping tears from his eyes. Sam was already rummaging for a bottle under the seat, and he opened it and handed it back to him.
He choked some of it down. "I swear I'm gonna kill that...holy sonofabitch!" he vowed, shaking with fury and pain.
"Easy Dean. Just lie still until I can get us some help, ok?"
Dean grunted and shut his eyes.
Sam was a nervous wreck. It took nearly an hour to cross back into Mississippi; he knew Dean was suffering but Jessup shadowed him the entire way. Finally he reached the border, and as he crossed over, he heaved a shaky sigh of relief as the deputy turned around and left them. "We're safe now, Dean...we'll find some help soon."
Dean offered no answer, and Sam swore to himself. His nerves were flayed raw, and his mind stormed with worry, frustration, and fury. His eyes pricked with hot, blurring tears and he ground the gas pedal down as hard as he could.