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Chapter 2

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"Deacon!"

"Dean, are you somewhere safe?"

"For now. Tell me about my brother." Dean's worry bled through the phone line.

"Well, thankfully I'm still employed, so I have access to the prison. Henriksen thinks I'm an idiot, so there's that."

"My brother, Deacon." Deacon could hear the underlying fear in Dean's clipped words.

"He's in solitary, in the old wing. The Feds have taken over his guard duty completely, and they are apparently expediting extradition." This statement was met with a colorful string of expletives. Deacon sighed and spoke again when Dean seemed to pause for air. "Dean, I am so sorry. I got Sam in this mess…I'm just not sure how to get him out."

"Can you get me back in the prison?"

"What? Dean, no! That would be career suicide for me, and actual suicide for you! The answer is not getting you back into the prison. There has to be another way."

"I'm not letting Sam suffer for my stupid choices, Deacon. I'm getting him out, with or without your help."

"I didn't say I wouldn't help. Just we need to actually think this through." There was silence on the other end of the phone, and then Dean spoke again, softer.

"Henriksen is going to use Sammy against me, Deacon. If I offer to trade…"

"Your brother will rip you a new one and you know it." Deacon interrupted. "Dean, let's be smart. You have allies, and not just me. Let's put our heads together and figure out a way to get your brother free that doesn't involve you losing your own life in the process, ok?" The silence on the line stretched on to the point that Deacon worried Dean had already rejected his suggestion and hung up. "Dean? Ok?"

Dean for his part was gripping the phone so tightly he was surprised it wasn't cracked. Every fiber of his being was pushing him to go to Henriksen and make a trade, but even as he thought that, he could hear a voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like Sam. Don't be an idiot. There are ways to save me without serving yourself up. Be smart, jerk. Dean sighed, murmuring "bitch" without even realizing it.

"What was that Dean?"

"I said ok. But we need to move on this now."

"On it. I'll talk to Mara. She clearly favors you both, and hopefully she can help somewhat shield Sam while we work on our plan. You call anyone you can trust, and we'll regroup as soon as possible. I've got to finish my shift, and I'll try to see what I can find out as to what Henriksen might be planning next."

"K. Hey Deacon - "

"Yeah?"

"Don't get fired."

"Yeah. Talk soon."

—-

Bobby was going to make it to Arkansas in record time. After several "idjits" and other not so complimentary words he had hung up on Dean so he could call Deacon and find out exactly what the situation was with Sam.

"Sam is being held in the old cell block that was just reopened." Deacon shared. "Bobby, the Feds are handling all the security for him. I can't get anywhere near him."

"What about this lawyer lady? Will she help?"

"I think so. Not sure what Dean did, but she seems to be pretty smitten with the boys."

Bobby snorted. "They have that effect, especially on women. Does she know about our world?"

"Not as far as I can tell. But I think she believes they are innocent, so that's something."

"All right. I'll be there by morning. Text me an address, and we'll put our heads together and get our boy out of this mess."

Dean meanwhile was slowly going crazy with the waiting. He knew Sam was valuable as bait, but he needed to know what Henriksen intended to do. Finally making a decision, he drove over the state line and found a pay phone, placing a collect call to the prison. He waited impatiently, but was finally rewarded when Henriksen picked up the line.

"You need to let Sam go, it is me that you want. He is innocent." he said without preamble.

"Dean, Dean, Dean. Your brother is so far from innocent." came the mocking reply.

"Henriksen, neither of us are the monsters you think we are."

"That's what all monsters say." Dean gripped the receiver in frustration, wishing there was some way to get through to this man with the truth.

"You're a cold-blooded killer, Dean. That is a fact. And Sammy…well, you've pulled him down with you. However, he could be enjoying much better accommodations, should you choose to turn yourself in."

"Why do I doubt you?"

"I dunno. Let me put this another way." Henriksen paused so long Dean thought the connection might have been cut, but then he resumed. "For every day you remain free, Sam will lose one more piece of his freedom and comfort. How much are you willing to let your brother suffer for your crimes?"

"You can't do this." Dean raged into the receiver, "You're violating his civil rights!"

"You are murders and scum of the earth!" Henriksen shouted back, "You don't deserve civil rights!" Dean slammed the receiver down, knowing the trace that most definitely was running would have by now narrowed to within blocks of his location. Racing to the Impala, he tore out of town, then took a circuitous way back, all the while internally berating himself for poking the beast. I'm so sorry Sam. We're going to get you out, somehow, I promise!

—-

Sam was awakened by the sound of the food tray being pushed through the slot in the door. By his calculations they were feeding him maybe once a day. Determined to keep his strength up, he wolfed down the food and water, thankful that they were feeding him at all. Standing, he started going through the calisthenics routine he had begun to keep his body limber, as best he could with the cuffs limiting his range of motion. Then he continued his minute perusal of the space, hoping to find SOMETHING left behind that he could use to free himself, but the cell was truly bare. Not for the first time, he thought about the fact that his imprisonment was clearly not in line with the rules and regulations for prisoner treatment, and shivered to think of how far Henriksen might be willing to go to capture Dean.

Even as the thought passed through his mind, Sam heard the clang of someone entering the cell block…something out of the ordinary from the last couple days where he had been left completely alone. He stood still as the cell door was unlocked and opened, blinking at the brighter light pouring into the room. It was Henriksen, and he looked pissed. "Hands." he said abruptly, even as his partner joined him in the cell holding a taser menacingly, a clear warning not to try anything. Sam sighed internally in relief, figuring they had just remembered that the cuffs had been left on. However, as soon as the cuffs were removed he was spun and shoved aggressively face-first up against the wall.

"Hey!" he cried out in surprise, feeling the rough wall bite into his cheek.

"Hands behind your back." was the gruff reply. What the hell - ? Sam complied, seeing no way to fight his way out with two men and the taser so close by. He felt a wider band of metal close around one wrist, then the other. Manacles, great.

"Kneel." Sam looked over his shoulder in disbelief, but merely received a glower back. He obviously was too slow to respond, as Henriksen kicked behind his knees and he dropped quicker and harder than he would have liked. A tug on the manacles followed by the feel of metal around his ankles made Sam realize he was now chained, hands to ankles, by a short chain that allowed him to kneel upright but not much else.

"What the hell?" he exclaimed, "You can't do this! This is a violation of my civil - "

"Your civil rights?" Henriksen interrupted, hauling him around to face him, nearly knocking him over. "Funny, that's what Dean said when he called." Sam almost missed his next words, elated to hear that Dean was free, even as he shuddered realizing the idiot had risked a phone call. He refocused as Henriksen continued, "You are both murderers and criminals, however much you whine, and deserve everything you're getting and more. Be glad it's not worse. Would you like to give your brother up? You can be free and in general pop by morning. ... No? Then pray he turns himself in, or your life is only slated to get worse." With that both men departed, leaving Sam kneeling, chained, in the dark cell alone once more.