Author's Note: Hope you enjoy this one. As always, the only thing I can say I own is the random ideas in my head. Any reviews, comments, or suggestions are always welcomed.
Sounds of springtime birds sang from the sprigs of the sunlit trees as they were drawn to the sweet apple blossoms lingering in the air. Spindly, yet muscular legs stretched out from a wooden bench upon the burgeoning plush grass. Sam Winchester had closed his eyes, soaking in the sweetness of the moment. The idyllic scene outside the Shafter County Courthouse could best be described as postcard perfect.His body held in perfect stillness, feeling the warmth of the springtime sun. It wasn't often that Sam had moments like these- time to be alone-time to reflect. Not that he didn't love his brother, but a 24/7 relationship with anyone could be taxing upon your peace of mind. The intoxicating fresh smell wafted to his senses again, the spring zephyr reminding him of Jess. Often when he thought of her, his mind filled with only one lasting image, the most detestable one. Today, he remembered her with a smile. It seemed as if her sweet scent was providing him with a much-needed relaxation. Abandoning himself in the Nirvana moment, he sighed knowing in a few moments he would rejoin his brother in the hallowed halls of justice. The mere thought of where the brothers had ended up was enough to make an ordinary man panic. The Winchester's, however, were far from normal. It seemed that at every turn weirdness followed them like a lost puppy looking for its master.
Sam had to admit, dipping his feet into the realm of Justice once more had created a longing for his past life. Getting lost in the world of legal jargon, cross-examination, and charges, was pure unabashed utopian pleasure. Over the past few days, Dean had donned him Super Uber Law Geek at least twice. He just wished it was for better circumstances.
His brother on the other hand was having one hell of a time. Not that Sam blamed him, but the Kentucky courtroom was the last place Dean Winchester wanted to be. It had been a week of pure torture for Dean. It panged Sam to see his brother being treated as if he were less than human. If universal bad luck could align itself against Dean anymore, his brother would crack. As it was, Sam was impressed that Dean tried to hold himself together. His brother was the proverbial fish out of water swimming up the holy shit hellstream. Dean's normal self was see-through faded.
Inhaling in another sweet breath of the apple blossom fragrance, Sam had renewed himself to witness the wheels of justice turning. Today was the first time in a week that the Winchester's had the opportunity to set things right. "Okay, Dean. It's time to set this off." Sam pondered that it better work out today or his brother was going to climb the walls. If this dragged out longer, his brother was going to throw punches.
Jaunting up the courthouse steps, Sam exhaled preparing to face the great unknown. As he walked through the courthouse doors with a hunter's anticipation, Sam was surprised to see his acquaintance, Ron Potter, waiting outside the doors. Ron has never been a good friend of Sam, but they had met during Sam's first semester at StanfordIn fact, Ron was on his way up the legal ladder, when Sam was still adjusting to his first year of normal life. Ron sucked down the last bits of cold coffee. Catching the courthouse janitor walking to the packed courtroom, Ron handed the working-class stiff his empty cup. Sam was sure he heard the janitor growl at Ron's audacity. The grumble didn't even acknowledge on Ron's "need to respond" meter. Instead, his focus was squarely on Sam.
"Can you believe the nerve of that guy?! He knows he's not allowed in the courtroom!"
"Ron, the entire county wants to see this trial. You can't blame the onlookers."
"Still, it's nice when people know their place!" The phrase was not said for Sam's benefit, but for the janitors, who was lurking and waiting for Sam and Ron to leave so he could access the courtroom. It was Ron's way of letting the janitor know his place and that he was being watched.
"Anyway, I was starting to think you couldn't handle seeing this through. Has it got your lawyer juices flowing again?"
"I wouldn't give up. I know he is innocent….and this is important to me. I just hope all the effort makes a difference." Sam ignored the last question, afraid to admit he did miss it.
"Come on Sam, we have one of the best on our side."
Sam knew that. He had watched Martin Masters, Attorney at Law, talk a blue streak around the prosecutors. Ron patted Sam on the back, nudging him into the crowded courtroom. As soon as the two legal eagles entered, the janitor adjusted his ball cap and snuck in right behind them. Squeezing a place in the back, the man blended in as he gave Sam and Ron wide girth.
Sam and Ron quickly found their seats in the packed and overflowing courtroom. Of course, they didn't have to fight for their seats having special privileges by their association of the defense team. Quickly, finding their seats in the gallery directly behind the defense tableSam's muscles tensed waiting for the finality of this event. He and Dean had waited for this moment. They were about to find if it paid off. Dean was always taking risks, but it was Sam who got him into this courthouse mess.
The defendant didn't turn to acknowledge their presence. Instead, he ran his hand through his short cropped hair. It was obvious he was trying to read the jurors, hoping they would somehow see he was an innocent man. He shifted uncomfortably in his dress suit. Obviously unaccustomed to donning such get up, he felt as if the tie was choking the breath from him. The intensified stress of watching his life hang in the balance had taxed an already world weary man.
Sam opened his mouth to speak, but before his lips could form words, the bailiff called the court in session.
"All rise. The court is now in session, the Honorable Judge Thomas Jordan presiding."
A formidable but kindly looking gentleman maneuvered his portly girth to judge's chair. "Please be seated."
The sardine courthouse took several moments to find their seat again, much to the dismay of the defendant as each excruciating second felt as if a hundred years might pass. However, the judge patiently waited until all members of the gallery had quieted. Even after the room was silent, a spark of electrified hostile energy still lingered in the abundantly filled courtroom.
"Has the jury reached a verdict," rolled from the jowls of the calm judge.
"We have your honor." The foreman responded promptly.
"Will the defendant please rise." The defense table stood in a strange sickening unison. Sam found himself scooting to the very edge of his chair waiting for the climax of the moment. The fact that he knew in a truthful righteous world over the verdict would be not guilty, but sometimes it was hard to sway popular opinion to the side of truth.
"How do the jurors find on the charges of murder in the first degree?"
"We find the defendant: Not Guilty, your honor."
The courtroom erected in screams of celebration and pandemonium. As relieved as Sam was about the verdict, he knew this was far from over. The mob like mentality had taken dominance over the gallery. Neighbors, friends, and the curious began screaming among themselves. Some debated the correctness of guilt or innocence, the travesties of justice, or just screamed murderer. The victim's family was held aghast that person they held responsible for the death of their daughter was not going to be punished. The victim's sister, no more than 10 or 11, looked dejected as she had lost her big sister all over again. Sam knew fear of losing his brother was always presence in his mind, but he thought it best that his group leave now before things escalated to a degree that resulted in more harm and destruction. That's when the little sister lost what composure she had and hurled chunks upon the courtroom floor.
"Bailiff cleared his courtroom!" The judge banged on the gavel and a steady rhythm like machine-gun fire. The bailiffs started ushering the crowd out the door, but the masses would not have any part of calm.
It was too late. Grieving the loss of his love one, the murder victim's father threw the first punch at Martin. As the defense counselor's body reacted in a back from the blow, the entire sparked into lawlessness. It was as if the entire courtroom filled with blood lust. Another punch was thrown in the gallery, followed by another, followed by another, until complete anarchy gripped the courtroom. Reacting more like wild animals than humans, the lonely bailiff couldn't even negligibly keep them in line. More punches, jabs, shoves, kicks, groans, screams, and bitter words echoed within the teeming room. In the far back someone has resorted to throwing a chair, which promptly shattered upon the wall. Grabbing Sam's arm Ron guided him to follow.
"Come on, Sam! Out through the judge's chamber!" Panic filled Sam as he couldn't see Dean. Even though it was futile for Sam to scream above the other screaming masses, he had to try. "Dean!"
There wasn't time to call his brother a second time. Ron was pressing Sam on towards an escape door. Martin was quickly gathering his charge and guiding him to the same area. As Martin and Ron had pushed both of their rescues into the judge's chamber doors, the cries of belligerent echoed as the door closed.
"Keep going," Ron demanded. "We have to get him out of here. They are out for his blood." The judge's door broke in before they crossed the ten feet to the hallway exit. The irascible brutish mobs busted through. With Ron and Martin acting as buffers, the legal duo nudged the two men to the secondary door.
"Come on. Let's get out of here."
As the two men raced into the courthouse corridor, the rioters had already made their way into the same hallway. Sam found himself yelling for his brother yet again, alerting him that danger was probably closer than they expected. "Dean!"
Sam still followed and watched the suit jacket flap as a corner was negotiated. He had little choice, but to follow. There was not much he could do to hold back the crowd anyway. Glancing only briefly back at maddened crowd, Sam turned the corner without looking.
A granite like blow walloped into Sam's chest, pushing Sam tit the marbled floor. Sam's body landed with a thwack upon his bottom. The harshness of the blow stole Sam's breath. Sam's upper torso forced a seat position on the floor as he felt the bloodthirsty lot screech pass him. "NO! STOP!"
Suddenly, the crowd lurched to a stop and the area filled with shrieks of terror. Sam didn't have enough time to spring to his feet before the head of his companion rolled off its torso. The liberated severed head rolled and planted face down between Sam's legs. Horror caused Sam to scoot back a few inches in alarm. "No….No….No!"
The headless torso lunged forward with a thud. Writing in blood appeared over the headless man as the crowd fled in panic. "MET HIS" scrawled next to the newly made bloody mess.