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Dean was no stranger to being arrested. The cops were annoying, and if they knew what he’d really been doing, they’d probably crap their pants and kiss his feet for being willing to take it on. But really, this particular set… not so bad. None of them were trying to play tough guy, none of them were being unreasonable, they thought this arrest was just as stupid as he did, but there had been a complaint, they had to investigate, and when they caught him red-handed, they had to bring him in.
“Once again, Mr. Jones, I am so sorry about this,” one of them said as she handed him the coffee. “As long as everything checks out, the worst that happens is you have to pay a token fine.”
That was the part that had Dean worried. Sure, Frank was good, but was he good enough that Dean’s fake identity would check out? And when it didn’t… well. Dean Winchester’s rap sheet was long and varied. Murder, escaping police custody, theft, burglary, assault, battery, animal cruelty, grave desecration, kidnapping, armed robbery, credit card fraud, mail fraud, and Dean’s personal favorite, incestuous relations with his brother. That one wasn’t on his rap sheet, he’d never actually been charged with it, but it deserved to be.
And now, add bathing in a public fountain to the list.
It wasn’t even fair. He’d been fighting a ghost, the ghost had thrown him into a public fountain, any time he tried to get up he was shoved right back down, and some idiot woman had called the cops. Thankfully, Sam had come through on the salt and burn, so Dean was on his feet and not in danger of drowning when the cops showed up.
The door swung open, and an officer walked in with Sam. Sam wearing his Fed suit, hair smoothed back, looking for all the world like he hadn’t just been digging up a grave. Dean was impressed. “Clear out. We need to talk to Mr. Jones alone,” the officer said.
The cop got up and nodded. “He’s all yours.” She left, glancing over her shoulder at Dean. Dean winked at her, getting a bitch face from Sam. Perfect.
Sam closed the door, and the officer sat down. “Hi, Dean. I don’t know if you remember me, but the first hunt I ever worked was with your dad. So tell me the truth, what brought you to town?”
“Ghost. Gone now." Dean leaned forward, staring at the hunter. "Kinda sloppy, if you’re a hunter, letting a ghost haunt your town long enough to catch my attention.”
“Been out of town on 'vacation' the past couple of weeks. Werewolf next state over." He jerked his head at Sam. "Care to explain why a fed is looking for you?”
“You…” Dean looked at Sam, who shrugged and grinned. “If you know me, you ought to know him. Might be a bit bigger than the last time you saw him, though.”
The officer blinked up at Sam, and then he burst into a huge smile. “You’re shitting me. This is little Sammy?”
“It’s Sam, but yes.” Sam crossed his arms. “Gives you good cover to just let Dean out of here.”
“Sammy, they were gonna do that anyway, if Frank comes through.”
“Frank? Devereaux?" Dean nodded, and the officer started laughing. "Shit, man. You’re a free man. Not even a fine. That check’s gonna come back with a few traffic tickets and maybe a youthful indiscretion of the sort that gets overlooked later. Not so squeaky clean as to be suspicious, but nothing that would cause us to hold you. You boys go on, then.”
Sam clapped Dean on the shoulder. “Come on, you must be dying to get out of those wet clothes.”
“You know it.”