Hotshow informed me that this story was woefully incomplete, so I've added a chapter before and after the original. Hope you like it!
Interrogation – Before
Henrickson paced the small office. He was certain Sam Winchester would walk through that door any second and order two coffees and maybe some donuts for breakfast. All the information he had been unable to discover about Dean Winchester had been easy to find on Sam. Sam was a college student who had friends. Those friends had been more than willing to talk, to cooperate with law enforcement, especially once it was explained that Sam might be in danger.
He wondered over the fact most of Sam Winchester's friends did not know he had a brother. Well, if he had a psychotic brother like Dean Winchester, he would not talk about it either. Where most of Dean's acquaintances were no-accounts stuck to the floors of the sleazy bars they lived in, Sam's friends were upper crust. They had talked openly about Sam and his habits. The only information that he had been able to use to date was the fact Sam was addicted to coffee.
Now a dozen agents laid in wait for Sam Winchester. They knew the Winchester brothers were in the area. One agent even had a crazy theory they were driving around in a mint antique Impala, but that was ridiculous. Serial killers did not drive around in recognizable vehicles. Besides, they had the Winchester boys' fingerprints on several recovered vehicles, so he knew they traveled by stealing cars.
His determination was finally going to pay off. They had a positive ID on Sam Winchester in this particular coffee shop yesterday. Now all they had to do was wait. Henrickson hated waiting. He was short on patience. The bell on the front door chimed. Henrickson's breath caught in his throat.
"Hey, how's it going?" A tall, lanky man strolled in. "Two coffees, please. How are your bagels today?"
Henrickson lifted his radio to his mouth. He whispered, "Close in. We got him."
They burst out of the backroom, weapons ready. He smiled when he saw the rest of his team burst through the front door with machine guns trained on Winchester. All of the patrons in the shop were plants, and had guns out. Sam Winchester sighed and placed his hands on his head.
"Cuff him!" Henrickson snapped. Two of the other agents cuffed Sam, each grabbing him by an arm when they were done. Smiling for the first time since joining the FBI, Henrickson holstered his weapon. He approached Sam Winchester. "Where is Dean?"
Sam cocked his head to one side, his brow furrowed. "Who? Excuse me, but I think there has been some mistake. My name is Mark Hamill."
He turned to his second. "Take Luke Skywalker here to the station. The doctors are ready, if we need them?"
"Yes, sir. Standing by."
"Good." He turned back to Sam. "You will talk to us, Sam Winchester. One way or another."
Special Agent Henrickson personally supervised the transfer of his prisoner. He was anxious to make the younger Winchester talk. For a moment, just a split second, he could have sworn he saw the older brother in the crowd outside the coffee shop. Henrickson ran into the crowd, shoving people aside. But it was not Dean Winchester. His prey was no where to be seen.
At the police station, Sam Winchester proved to be just as difficult as he expected a man helping his serial killer brother to be. Who was worse: the serial killer or the person who aided the serial killer? Henrickson was starting to wonder as Sam dodged or pointedly lied to every question. He wanted to play this game? Fine.
Henrickson stepped out of the exam room where Sam was cuffed to a chair, hands behind him. He motioned to a man in a white lab coat who approached rapidly.
"You have something to make him talk?" Henrickson asked, hating the need to use this man.
The man in the white lab coat, who insisted on being called "doctor" though Henrickson had his doubts, smiled. "Oh yes. He will be much more cooperative after this." He held up a syringe filled with a yellowish fluid.
"What is it? What will it do?"
The doctor's smile broadened. "I'd rather not say. Decreases liability. But I guarantee your prisoner will be very cooperative. Isn't that what you said you wanted?" He waggled the syringe under his nose.
Henrickson gritted his teeth. He really did not like this man, but he hated Dean Winchester. Lesser of two evils? "Do it."