27
Dean received that letter on the same afternoon it was finished.
His lawyer Lindsey came and gave him the latest updates: "More and more cases are being transferred from other states, credit card frauds, mail scams, grave diggings, armed robberies and over three cases of first degree murder, the ones from Milwaukee and Missouri are the trickiest..." She simply stopped after catching Dean's mind wandering, "You just don't care at all, right?"
"Yeah." He shrugged. Well not quite, he just cared in the opposite direction of ordinary people: it is for the precise purpose of being locked up that he walked into the police station.
Lindsey shot him a sharp glance, she gathered the case files scattered on the table, the pale papers were gathered into a stack with sharp corners. She shaped them into a neat pile and said: "I'll do my best to get you the best possible deal, but to be honest, you know what you're facing."
"Angora or something like that?" Dean raised his brows, Lindsey didn't laugh. Before he cooperated with her in was hard for Dean to imagine such a girl with cluttered rooms at home to be Sam's colleague/classmate, but now his prejudice was greatly reduced. He put on a serious face and said: "I don't mind."
She was puzzled by his candor. Lindsey shook her head, which got the ends of her hair flying. Before she left she handed Dean that letter: "Sam is unable to continue representing and defending you due to personal reasons, I hope you'll excuse him."
On the third day after that letter was finished, Dean finally decided to read it. One of the reasons was that now that he was arraigned, he would be extradited this afternoon, and he wouldn't want to leave without equivalent information with Sam if this was farewell. He was sitting on his thin bed and had a shapeless orange smock on him loosely, he rested his elbow upon his knee and his face upon his hand. The gray and peeling walls were warm as the room was now at its most-lit hour of the day, he stared at the tightly-closed door but in fact he was looking at nothing. A moment later he straightened up, and took out the envelope from under his pillow.
It said "Dean Winchester" on it, written like that for the convenience of forwarding letter. He could not read any suggestive emotions from these two words, or perhaps they themselves was a clue: Sam was calling out to the real him. Dean recognized the notepaper, it was torn off from his clipping book, the stain on the paper was caused by the bit of glue he had accidentally dropped onto it.
He let out a breath and glanced through the content of the letter rapidly as though he was peeking at something that didn't belong to him. After a few moments he folded the piece of paper according to the original crease line and put it back into the envelope carefully.
Henriksen was extraordinarily generous with Dean. When a city had fallen, "what will I grab" became "what can I give", even invaders enjoy the pleasure of giving out generosity. He opened the lock and stood by the door, Dean lifted his head to look at him: "It's time?"
"Not yet, I'm taking you to lunch."
"Thanks."
Rays of sunlight was shining on Dean's face, Henriksen stared at him strangely. His guesses on Dean's mental problems were once again confirmed.
"What are you looking at?"
"Nothing." Dean lowered his head, the envelope was clutched in his hand. He had only taken a quick glance, but it felt like those words were stamped right in front of his eyes.
Lunch for him is burger. "Cheeseburger with extra onions." Henriksen shoved the tray over, "The fries are cold, but it's good enough."
"Great, I love this." Dean's hands stopped a moment, he considered, "Perhaps not 'love', can't say 'love' too often, right?"
Henriksen looked him as he said those inexplicable words, as an outlaw he sure had too many tears. He then stood up and left his prisoner with the guards, he needed to report Dean's insanity. But when his call was put through the first things he heard were some rumors about the Winchesters.
By the time he came back, Dean Winchester was already gone.
Dean was sitting in the passenger seat of the Impala, he was wrapped in a large blanket and was changing his clothes, making a rustling sound. They had already left New York, Dean didn't ask where they were going. He finished buttoning his shirt, zipped his jacket up, folded the blanket and threw it onto the backseat. Having done all these, he then unzipped his jacket and unbuttoned the first button of his shirt, he felt a bit restless as he let himself sank into car seat. The window was opened a crack, letting in the slightly-cold but sharp wind. He took a glance at Sam, he was driving with all his attention. Dean rolled the window up silently, he lifted his hands to fasten his button again.
"Come on, give your poor buttons a break."
Sam broke the silence first. This was the first sentence he uttered after that "I'm now wanted".
"I'm just feeling a bit chilly."
"I'll turn on the heat?" Dean shook his head. Sam reached for the blanket, he grabbed it and tossed it onto Dean.
Dean's fingers fidgeted with the blanket nervously, he proposed: "I'll drive?"
"You know where we're going?"
"Oh well, so it means you actually have a destination?" His sarcasm came almost instinctively, "what a perfect plan."
"Or you'd rather we spend the rest of our lives together in Angora?" Sam shot back, "Because according to you, it's perfectly safe in there."
"Come on." Dean slapped his thigh and raised the pitch of his voice, "You revealing yourself right at critical this point, you think I don't know you well enough?"
"If you really know me that well, you wouldn't go into the prison yourself in the first place."
Dean flashed him a quick look, he questioned him stiffly: "So this is what you mean when you said..."
He stopped with chagrin. He wasn't quite ready yet to talk about that letter.
"I said what?" Sam waited for him to ask, he noticed that Dean suddenly stiffened.
"Never mind." That force in Dean weakened drastically all of a sudden, he just wanted to end this conversation. There's nothing he could do about it anymore, now that they're on the road again. This is not entirely a bad thing, he thought, in some selfish corner he was unwilling to admit, he was actually very happy.
"Oh, God." Sam slammed on the brakes, as they came to a halt both of them were throw forward sharply by inertia. Sam turned his whole body around to face Dean, he looked at him: "You have read that letter." He opened his eyes wide, "I never saw Lindsey again, and I never told her how important that letter is... You didn't mention, I thought you didn't get it, or you just threw it away after you received it."
"I'll never throw away anything you give me."
Sam's whisper was so light, almost dreamy: "Finish that sentence you didn't finish."
"I was just thinking, about what you said in the letter, that you respect all my choices. But then you came back like hell, back to being a Winchester" Dean's voice was hoarse, "You really give me headaches, Sammy."
Sam looked deeply into Dean's eyes with a little frown, he'll never know how to do with Dean, not until the end of time. He felt that he was hollowed and then filled again, and all Dean did to make him felt like that was simply being before his eyes and doing nothing. Sam sighed, he put a hand around the back of Dean's neck and pulled Dean towards himself—and kissed him on the lips.
They were pressed against each other hotly. Dean opened his mouth to say something put Sam took this chance and stuck his tongue inside. The air got thicker at once, Dean's hand clenched the blanket tight, his nails pinched the fabric so hard that they left white marks on it. Sam's hand found his and took it, Sam continued pushing himself forward, their breaths entered the other's body immediately the moment they left from one. Dean was now pushed so back that his head hit the window with a thud, he grunted. Sam had Dean's lip between his, he mumbled "sorry" but didn't let it interrupt this kiss. Dean unclenched the fist that Sam was not holding and press this free hand on Sam's back, Sam let out a laugh in his throat.
They then kissed quietly for a while, until Sam leaned his own self against Dean did Dean finally tapped him on his back discontentedly, like a boxer giving in. Sam licked Dean's lips, Dean pushed him away, he said: "You're so heavy, dude."
"Well then next time you can lean on me." He looked at Dean meaningfully and licked his own lips.
Dean was a bit shy, he turned away: "Don't do that."
"...What?" Sam took it the wrong way, he flinched a little.
Dean struggled with his thoughts for a while, at last he couldn't help but to lean forward and plant a light kiss on Sam's lips, "Forget I said that."
Sam restarted the car, he looked at the road stretching before him. It's gradually getting darker. "Dean," he said in a low voice, "every word in that letter, I mean it. Read it carefully."
Dean said: "Okay."
He pulled out the envelope from under his clothes, it was warm with the temperature from his body, hiding this was the reason he changed his clothes under the blanket, not what Sam about "It's freezing don't catch a cold". He read out loud the content of that letter and as he did so he kept throwing glances at Sam, the person who wrote the letter however remained calm throughout the whole process.
"But we're still friends?" Dean didn't believe it, "You and Amelia? When she discovered that her ex fiance is a fugitive, her first reaction wasn't to call the police immediately?"
"In fact, she called me right away when she heard Lindsey warning her that I'm extremely dangerous." Sam was a bit proud, "That's when I started to get ready for breaking you out of prison."
When on the phone with Sam, Amelia made as if to speak but then stopped, at last she asked: "So what brought you back from the dead?i thought the situation now couldn't be worse: you becoming a fugitive, together with Dean." She paused after saying it, and suddenly it all became crystal clear for her, "As long as you're together with him, even as fugitives?" She shook her head, "You really are hopeless."
Sam's answer was this: "In fact, I'm good at being a wanted my, it's being separated with Dean that I'm relatively rusty with."
There was a laugh in Amelia's voice: "Good luck."
"You're such a bold girl, a good girl." Sam said heartily.
"You're also a good person." returned Amelia. She then said, "I loved you—I love Sam Wesson, pity he's not real... I wish you both happiness, Mr. Winchester."
Dean continues reading: " 'But there's no need for you to worry, I'm fine right now.'" He glanced at Sam suspiciously, "You knew all these when you were writing this letter. Tell me about it, how did Lindsey find out? I mean, Lindsey—she's a lawyer of integrity, once she knows you're a Winchester she'll report you. So, how did you let Lindsey find out our connection naturally?"
"She likes you, and she's not exactly that law-abiding citizen you think she is. She used to use my computer to check your location when you were still wearing that anklet. When I handed over to her your files I deliberately hid something away, and she can find it by restoring the data I deleted."
"What is it?"
"The surveillance footage of our meeting at the police station, I kissed you on your forehead."
Dean didn't question anything more written in the letter again. When he read that sentence Sam turned his head and gave him a certain look, it nearly had him unable to continue.
When he finished reading he put the letter away carefully. Sam turned the car around and they were back on the road they came.
"Where are we going?"
"New York."
"Why? All the police are looking for us."
"Then give them a reason to stop." Sam said. "Like you, I'm so fucking brilliant."
Guys I don't know legalese at all so there's bond to be errors especially at the beginning of this section. Please don't hesitate to point them all if you notice any, thank you:)