Summary: After escaping from prison, Sam and Dean have no where to run except for a place neither one of them ever hoped to see again. Set just after 'Folsom Prison Blues' with flashbacks to a 17 year old Sam and 21 year old Dean. Hurt!Sam, Protective!Dean
A/N: This story is something that I wasn't sure was worth posting or not, so I kinda let it sit around in my computer files for months on end without letting it see the light of day. However, I spent so damn long writing this that I finally decided to go back to it and polish it up some.
The Long Arm of the Law
"He still back there?" Dean asked, his brows furrowed into a deep 'V' as he concentrated on the road ahead of them.
"Yeah … Step on it!" Sam exclaimed quickly while looking back at the flashing lights gaining on them, trying not to sound as desperately nervous as he felt.
"Dammit … " Dean muttered angrily, flooring the accelerator, pushing the limits of the muscle car's engine as she roared down the dark highway. "Who'd have thunk that Barney Fife back there would be the one to tag us?... Damn redneck sherrifs."
"We did just break out of prison, Dean. I'm sure every cop in the state has us on their radar."
"Thanks for the update, Sam." Dean shot back sarcasticlaly, driving even faster.
Sure, getting arrested, sent to jail and then breaking out again hadn't been hard - they had Deacon to thank for that. However, despite the fact that they had been cautious and took back roads instead of the interstates to avoid being detected since their great escape, it had only taken one cop actually doing his job to ruin their day and their perfect getaway. And as soon as that cop car had pulled up behind them and turned on its lights, they knew they couldn't stop – they wouldn't be so lucky to both be sent back to the same prison again - they had to make a run for it.
"We're only a few miles from the border to Missouri - they won't have jurisdiction there." Sam hoped that meant they'd be in the clear once they crossed the state line.
"Doesn't mean they won't call their cop buddies over there to join in on the fun."
Dean tore his eyes from the road and chanced a looked over at Sam for the briefest of moments and saw the unease in his brother's eyes that reflected the same churning in his gut.
They were so screwed … again.
"Dean!" Sam suddenly shouted, pointing out the window. "Road block!"
Dean's head and eyes snapped back to the road and his hopes of making a clean getaway dropped even further.
"Crap! Crap! Crap!" Dean muttered. Maybe running away to Yemen wouldn't be such a bad idea after all.
Up ahead, twin lights flashed on the top of a patrol car, blocking the road lengthwise in a last-ditch effort to stop the two fugitives before they could escape into the next state. On the right side of the highway lay an extremely deep drop-off leading to a creek bed while on the other side, the shoulder broke off into a wide ditch. Going around wasn't going to be easy, but it was their only hope.
"Hold on!" He floored the accelerator. The speedometer needle jumped in response, hovering past 90 MPH.
"Dean!" Sam cried out as he grasped the dashboard.
"I know what I'm doing, Sam." Dean snapped, his eyes narrowing.
"Really? 'cause it looks an awful lot like you're gonna ram the guy."
"Shut up, I'm driving." Dean growled back at his brother's assessment. He could do this … probably.
As the car barreled down the road towards the cop car, the officer jumped out of the vehicle and stood in front of it, quickly drawing out his handgun and aiming it towards the Impala bearing down on him.
"Deeeeannnn" Sam warned, his knuckles whitening as he held on for dear life to the dash. They came closer and closer almost to the point where they could both see the sweat on the nervous officer's brow and the shake of the gun in his hand.
Pop! Pop! Pop!
The barrel of the officer's gun exploded outward, sending bullets into the grill of the car and ricocheting off in a shower of sparks. Sam ducked and covered his head while the bullets kept flying at them. Dean held steady, putting all of his concentration into steering while the officer continued to lay down fire until losing this game of chicken and jumping out of the way.
Impact with the side of the patrol car was almost a sure thing until Dean yanked the wheel hard to the left.
Time seemed to slow down even as Dean's heart continued to gallop at full speed. He braced himself for what would come next and yelled, "HANG ON!" to his brother.
The Impala's wheels squealed against the pavement. It drifted sideways moments before it became airborne, flying off of the shoulder of the road and over the embankment, landing front-end first into the ditch, and jarring its passengers. The car bounced twice before Dean could regain control over the wheel and send silent apologies to his car's suspension.
The engine roared after he mashed on the accelerator again and sharply pulled the steering wheel to the right, sending huge piles of sod and dirt up into the air as the tires spun on the ground and propelled the car forward and up the side of the ditch.
The car's tires hit the edge of the shoulder, fishtailing onto the asphalt before Dean could get the car going straight again, leaving the parked cruiser behind in a cloud of dirt and gravel.
"Whooooo!" Dean hollered in triumph, chancing a glance in to the rearview mirror and seeing the cop behind them throw his hat onto the ground in frustration just as they crossed the border into Missouri. "You see that, Sammy? We are totally the Dukes of Hazzard … damn … almost makes me wish we had a horn that plays Dixieland."
Dean turned, expecting Sam to give him a 'why-the- hell- did-you-just-risk- our-lives-on-such-a-stupid-stunt' kind of look. Instead, Sam was hunched over, still gripping the dash tightly with one hand.
"Hey, c'mon … you gotta admit that I'm pretty much the awseomest driver ever."
Sam still didn't respond.
Dean reached over and nudged Sam on the shoulder. "Hey … you okay?"
"Think I'm in trouble, Dean." Sam rasped then lifted his head. Though his face was mostly obscured by his long bangs, what could be seen of his face had turned a chalky shade of white. It was then that Dean finally noticed that the hand Sam wasn't holding onto the dashboard with was held tight to his right side.
"What the -" It was then that Dean saw red seeping between Sam's fingers. "Son of bitch … "
Dean immediately pulled over and started prying Sam's hand away from the growing splotch of blood. "Let me see, Sam."
Dean pulled Sam's hand away with little resistance revealing a small hole in Sam shirt, oozing blood into the surrounding fabric. "How the –" Dean then looked up and saw the same sized hole staring back at him through the passenger side door. "That bastard … he shot you?"
"Dean … it's okay, it's not that bad ..." Sam swatted Dean's hand away. "We gotta keep going. We can't stop here … not now. The cops here are probably already on their way."
"Not until we get this taken care of, Sam." Dean demanded, reaching into the back seat and grabbing the closest piece of fabric available which just happened to be one of the orange prison jumpsuits Sam and Dean had been wearing only a few hours ago.
"Dean … Give it to me … I got it. Just drive."
Dean gave his brother an 'are-you-crazy?' kind of look while Sam grabbed the jumpsuit and pressed it up against his side. "You know we can't go to a hospital and the more time we spend sitting here on the side of the road the more likely we are to get caught … so just drive." Sam demanded.
As much as all of Dean's instincts were screaming at him to take care of Sam, he knew as well that he was right. They had to keep going and get out of the state … heck maybe even the continent.
Dean gunned the engine once again and peeled out on the road. He didn't have a clue where to go, just that he had to get them there as fast as possible.
To Be Continued ...