Chapter Text
“I brought you food,” Spencer said as he shouldered into the room with a burger, same as the one they’d gotten for Dean.
Sam blinked as he looked up from where his hands were bundled together, one thumb biting into the palm of the other hand, digging deep into what was a vicious scar that said all too much about Sam’s habits. “Oh,” He said. “Thank you.” He sounded sincere.
“Burgers,” Spencer explained as he set the bag down in front of the man. “You didn’t specify, but your brother wanted them, so we figured it was fine. Is it?”
Sam swallowed, then nodded shortly. “Thanks,” He said again, his throat hoarse.
Spencer bit the inside of his cheek and sat down on the chair opposite the man. “Look,” He said as Sam didn’t take out the food, leaving it on the table. “When we talked to your brother, he mentioned a few books that he and you starred in.”
For a second, Sam looked confused, and then his expression cleared into something a little more calm than before. “Oh, you mean the books by Ch– Carver Edlund?”
“We know he’s Chuck Shurley,” Spencer assured him. “But yes.”
“Right,” Sam said. “So you know about a fantasy series.”
“Is it fantasy?” Spencer asked.
Sam flinched.
Spencer’s eyes flared.
“Of course it is,” Sam said hoarsely. “What else would it be?”
“Real, according to you and your brother.” He hesitated. “You’re seeing the devil, aren’t you?”
This time, the flinch was full-bodied.
“I’m not seeing anything,” Sam said through gritted teeth, his hands ducking under the table, no doubt doing the same thing that had been happening in the morning.
“You say that, but–”
“No,” Sam snapped. “And I don’t want to talk about this.”
“I think you’re kind of mistaking the point,” Spencer told him, starting to understand the annoyance. “You’re not the one holding the cards here, Sam.”
“Do I look like I care if I don’t? You can come in and play your good cop routine, but it’s not going to work. I will not be admitting to the crimes you think I’ve done because–”
Sam inhaled sharply and looked down.
“And the end of the world?” Spencer asked, though it chafed to even pretend he believed.
Sam’s lips trembled. “None of your business,” He said hoarsely. “It’s not like you believe me, anyway.”
“Then make me believe,” Spencer suggested. “That’s what you did with Victor Henriksen, didn’t you?”
Sam flinched. “We didn’t make him do anything,” He said, but his anger had subsided, and there was a vulnerability in his voice that Spencer could see quite clearly.
“Didn’t you?” He asked.
Sam forced his thumb to bite into his palm even more, his shoulders tightening. “I said it’s none of your business,” He said. “I’m not going to say anything to you.”
Spencer grimaced. “Why?” He asked. “Does it touch too close to home?”
Sam said nothing, his body angling toward the right for a portion of a second before he stopped.
“It’s him, isn’t it?” Spencer asked. “Lucifer. He’s talking to you right now.”
“Stop–” Sam shuddered. “No,” He said tersely. “He’s not.”
“But you do see him sometimes?”
“Does it matter?”
“Yes,” Spencer said. “Because we can help, Sam, if you let us–”
Sam laughed, and it was loud and bitter. “Sure,” He said. “Help.” He shook his head. “If anyone could have helped, it would have been Cas and he–” He pursed his lips.
“Cas?” Spencer asked, mind flying over the pages and the reports. “Jimmy Novak, you mean. The angel Castiel.”
“You did read in quite a lot of detail, didn’t you?” Sam asked rhetorically. “I’m surprised you didn’t bring it up before…” His eyes focused on a spot behind Spencer, and his gaze turned into a glare.
Spencer paid it no heed. “I just read them.”
Sam blinked. “I’m sorry?”
Spencer grinned. “I can read 20,000 words per minute and I have an eidetic memory.”
Sam’s eyes were wide, and he looked impressed. “Wow,” He said. “You must be a genius.” He shook his head. “Of course you are. You’ve got three PhDs.”
Spencer inclined his head. “It’s kind of my role in the team,” He said.
“Really? I thought it was you being the good-cop.”
Spencer snorted. “Not like you’ve met the others,” He pointed out.
Sam hummed in agreement, then trailed off, and the easy smile that had started to make its way onto his face faded again.
Spencer sighed. “Look, Sam,” He said. “I know you’re hallucinating Lucifer. And I know whatever he’s saying is stopping you from talking to me. But I’m really trying here and I honestly want to know your story. I want to help you, Sam, and I can’t do that unless you talk.”
Sam shrugged. “It’s a curious way of helping, incarcerating someone,” He pointed out.
“You have to admit,” Spencer shot right back. “There are a hell of a lot of charges against you and your brother. Charges which, for anyone else, anywhere else, would have meant a death penalty.”
“Would they?” Sam asked. “I wish.”
Spencer was taken aback. “I’m sorry?”
Sam chuckled. “Nothing,” He murmured. “It’s an inside joke.”
Spencer frowned, the realization arching through him with startling velocity. Sam Winchester was suicidal. He said it was the joke, but the wistfulness? The self-hatred? The refusal to say he wasn’t a monster? “... I see,” He said, finally.
Sam sat back in his chair, looking at him with a small smile which didn’t reach his eyes and an inevitability in his expression. “As I’ve said,” He continued. “I’m not going to admit to any crimes you think I’ve committed.” He huffed. “Especially since the very fact that you’re looking for our confession means you don’t have proof.”
Well, he wasn’t completely wrong. “And like we said,” Spencer told him, just to try and squash that thought of his. “We’re doing this for the record. Or, in your words, posterity.”
“Hmm,” Sam said.
“What about your childhood?” Spencer tried. “You said no crimes, but surely you can tell me about how you grew up.”
“Is that even relevant?”
Everything’s relevant. Spencer shook his head. “No, but it sounds interesting. You grew up on the road, right?”
“Well, you know dad was a marine.”
“It was in your file.”
Sam nodded. “So we moved around a lot after Mom died. Dad didn't want to stay in one place for too long.”
“And you were raised by your brother.”
Sam looked almost amused. “You know we’re repeating the conversation we had the first time you entered, right?”
Spencer shrugged. “Trying to figure you out,” He said. “Why you’re here.”
“We’re here because you want to try and stick us with criminal charges because otherwise you have nada.”
“That’s not exactly true, though,” Spencer said. “Because we have Henriksen’s case files and notes from every state where you’ve been involved in things like these.”
Sam crossed his arms, finally letting his palm go, even as Spencer saw the red-blue skin. “Then why aren’t you charging us already?”
“It takes time to set up a hearing,” Spencer pointed out. “They’ve set it for Monday, so we figured we’d have a shot at you before you end up in jail.”
“Sure,” Sam said. “That’s exactly it.” He sighed and gestured to the brown bag. “I’d like to have my lunch now, if you’re okay with that.” His smile turned cold. “Alone. I don’t like eating with people watching me.” His eyes moved to where his hallucination was standing again, and Spencer got the unsaid message; ‘Any more than I already have.’
Deciding to let it go for now, Spencer got up and left the room.
Outside, Rossi was waiting, hands tucked into his pockets and a strained smile on his face. “Good job, kid,” He said.
“I got nothing, though,” Spencer said.
“You made some rapport,” Rossi corrected. “One step at a time. He opened up to you in the middle, didn’t he?”
Spencer nodded silently.
Ross fell into step beside him. “Gideon will take a crack on him next. We’re thinking of trying the same shtick that worked on his brother.”
Spencer perked up. “Is it working?”
“That’s what we’re looking to find out,” Rossi said, then frowned. “Spencer, has Gideon said anything…?”
“You’re talking about him being suspicious. ”
Rossi’s smile was self-deprecating. “Nothing gets past you, huh?”
“We’re profilers,” Spencer pointed out. “All of us noticed.” He frowned. “But Gideon was acting seriously off.”
“Hasn’t lost his touch, though.”
“Which is why you’re putting him on Sam, too,” Spencer reasoned.
Rossi shook his head. “Call it a hunch.”
Spencer’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”
Rossi didn’t elaborate. “While Gideon’s on Sam, you want to take a crack at Dean? He might open up more to you about the supernatural, too. You have a rough understanding, right?”
Spencer nodded. “There was a lot in the books, yeah,” He said. “But we’ll have to see.”
“Good,” He said. “Gideon got him to talk about shape-shifters and Vampires, which clear up a lot of their ‘look-alike’ and beheading tales, even if the first part doesn’t completely compute, but those are still without proof. We need a case which they admit to being supernatural but one that we can connect to them in the real world as well.”
“Okay,” Spencer said. “I’ll see what I can do. Did Morgan call back about the explosion?”
“Not yet,” Rossi said, and he looked worried, too. “But we’ll get there, kid.”
Jason sighed as he sat across from Hotch in his office, having been called in immediately after he got out of interrogation with Dean, who had started to look a little antsy now that he knew Jason was on his side but could do nothing (yet). He had expected to be caught for suspicious behavior, but it was still embarrassing to know he was being made so easily by his own ex-team.
“So,” He said. “How is Jack?”
A smile flickered across Hotch’s face. “Good,” He said. “He’s doing well in school.”
“That’s good,” Jason murmured. “Smart kid, that one.”
“Yeah,” Hotch said. “He is.” There was a moment of silence, and Hotch turned more serious. “Where have you been in the years since you left the BAU, Gideon?”
Jason’s smile didn’t waver. “Traveling the states,” He said truthfully. “I haven’t been able to stay in one place longer than a month.” There was a ruefulness to his words which he didn’t even think he could hide.
Hotch stared at him piercingly. “I see,” He said. “And these people you mentioned in ‘bars in Lawrence’?”
“Like I said, a red herring,” Jason told him. “I did go to Lawrence and I did meet people in bars, but there were no people there who talked about the supernatural like these guys did.”
“Why did you use it as an interrogation tactic, then?”
“Because from everything we know about them, it seemed prudent that they assumed that they were a part of a subculture. And having another entrypoint in that subculture was something which may have given me some credibility.” Jason continued, explaining it just as calmly as he would have explained another serial killer’s habits back when he used to work here.
Hotch pursed his lips and leaned back in his chair. “And ‘Willis’?”
Jason raised his eyebrows. “What, Penelope didn’t find out anything about him?”
Hotch’s gaze was inscrutable. “I have her on Winchester duty right now,” He said in clipped tones.”
“Right,” Jason said. “Well, I wasn’t lying there,” He said. “I did meet a mechanic on my trip. Several, really, but unlike Spencer, I’m not exactly a wealth of memories.” He smiled deprecatingly.
Hotch kept staring.
Jason stared back. “Do you want me off the case?” He asked quietly.
Hotch grunted. “... No,” He said. “You've made the most headway with Dean.”
Jason leaned back in his chair. “I also have seniority in experience over most of you,” He reasoned.
Hotch huffed. “You do,” He agreed. “And I'm not doubting your skills.”
“But you are doubting me,” Jason asked, a mix of guilt and unease running through him.
Hotch just stared at him again, wordless. “... We'll see,” He said after a while.
Jason frowned.
Before he could speak, though, the door opened and David entered. “Ready, Jason?” He asked. “Sam finished eating and we don't exactly have all the time in the world.”
Jason tried for a smile and it came out twisted, but he nodded anyway, inclining his head in a goodbye to a silent Hotch as he walked out.
For a few moments, David didn't exit, likely talking to Hotch about him.
Jason's frown deepened. It wasn't like he wanted to be suspicious, he reasoned to himself. It was just that he had to give the brothers the hint that he knew them. That he was an ally. That they shouldn't do anything desperate, as Bobby had warned him they might, left to their own devices. He had to keep them from confirming their alleged crimes - which was only made worse by the fact that they were crimes but unprecedented and uncategorized and therefore needed a reevaluation of the entire legal system, which meant they couldn't be crimes, not the right way, not when it was really self-defense most of the time, not when it was saving the whole world - before the trial, and then he had to find a way to get the transport vehicle info to Bobby so he could mobilize some of his friends and spring them.
And Jason was sure as hell going to come out looking guilty, but he couldn't do nothing. Not just because Bobby and this new supernatural world had helped him when he’d basically been killing himself out of grief and self-hatred, but also because these kids had saved the world so many times over, and what did they get for it? Hallucinations and criminal charges.
He sighed.
“What's wrong?” David asked, and the door closed behind him with a click.
Jason shook his head and straightened. “Not much,” He said, and then, because it was David and that had been a stupid excuse. “Just… overwhelmed.”
David's eyes glittered with both compassion and a sparkle Jason could place, which annoyed him because there had once been a time when he could read David like no one else. “About coming back to work?”
Jason shrugged noncommittally. “Sam, then?”
David smiled in partial amusement, pointed, and then went in the direction leading the way. The rest of the path was silent.
And then, while Jason made a beeline for the interrogation room, David entered the other side, watching.
He'd have to be even more careful, Jason realized because if there was one person likely to catch him even more than Spencer, it was David Rossi.
He cleared his throat as he sat down in front of the younger Winchester. He'd finished eating a while ago, and as before, he was sitting straight in his seat, just at the edge of uncomfortable, eyes periodically darting to the side. “Hello, Sam,” He said. “My name is Jason Gideon, and I’m with the FBI.”
“I heard,” Sam said quietly, eyes meeting his, slightly distant. “Did Spencer give up on me, then?”
Jason kept a smile on his face. “Of course not,” He said. “But we thought we should give both of you a breather.”
Sam snorted.
“We both know why we’re here, though, right?” Jason asked.
“And we both also know I’m not stupid enough to admit to anything I may not have done,” Sam replied immediately, just as harsh as he had been soft with Spencer.
Jason raised both his eyebrows in mock surprise. “The law degree from Stanford?”
Sam scowled, and Jason instantly knew the hallucination had said something again. Not for the last time, he felt bad for the kid. He saved the world and what was he left with? A broken mind. “No,” He said. “Just experience with unwanted law enforcement.” He smiled a brittle smile. “Unnecessary law enforcement.”
“Is it?” Jason asked, then cleared his throat. “Surely you’ve come across something in your travels that has warranted this reaction from us.”
Sam started to frown, something glittering in his eyes.
Jason straightened. “I’ve traveled too, you know?” He continued. “Just like you boys did. I told your brother this, too, but I heard a few things about the supernatural on these travels.”
Sam inhaled sharply. “What kind of things?” He asked, then scowled again. “Your team member already mentioned you’ve read those supernatural books,” He said. “If you think you can pin something on us with fiction—”
“Is it fiction?” Jason asked.
“The world certainly thinks so.”
“But I’m not asking about the world,” Jason said. “I’m asking about you, Sam. You, your brother…” He placed his hands on the table. “Your companions. How many people do you work with?” He asked. “Maybe a researcher? Other supernatural hunters?” He tried to relay his knowledge through his gaze. “Who’s helping you fight the leviathans?”
Sam’s eyes flared, but even before he asked, he whispered, “Christo.”
Nothing happened.
“I’m not possessed,” Jason said in amusement. “Your brother already tried that.”
Sam pursed his lips and sat back.
“Come on,” Jason tried again, wondering how to ask again. “Your brother already started to share knowledge of the supernatural with me. Can’t you, too?” He resisted the urge to look back. “I heard you’re the studious one. Dean’s the one who takes after your father and you after your uncle, right? So tell me,” He continued. “What’s the situation with the supernatural?”
Sam had stilled the second Jason said ‘Uncle,’ but unlike Dean, he reacted much less. His eyes simply flickered to the one-way glass behind Jason, then back to Jason, where he met his eyes and stared into his soul. And then, instead of answering Jason, he asked, “What did you ask Dean?”
Jason nodded, both in answer to the unasked question and in recognition of the question. “Well, I told him about my travels as well, you see, and I mentioned that I met a few of these supernatural hunters, heard some stories, both from people in bars and other professionals, even mechanics.” He smiled. “Dean was happy to tell me what I was wrong about. Regarding the supernatural, of course.”
“Of course he was,” Sam muttered and momentarily closed his eyes, then sighed and opened them again. “I am not admitting to any crimes,” He said in clipped tones. “I’ve already told Spencer this, but if you’re asking, that means you don’t have anything on us.” He raised an eyebrow.
Jason’s lips twitched up for a second.
Sam’s eyes cleared. “But I can try to answer if you have anything to ask about the supernatural.” His eyes flickered to the mirror again. “But I’d prefer to talk to Spencer.”
Smart kid.
Jason nodded and stood. “It seems we’ve come to an accord.”