Rating: PG - Gen
Disclaimers: SPN & characters are owned by their various creators.
Summary: Jail, tampons and attempted arson.
"Did you know that tampons make a good fire accelerant?"
"No." Sam said. "I didn't know that."
"It's all the cotton in them." Dean explained. "And something else, rayon I think."
"And if you soak them they can be also be used as a wick--"
"Next time I'm in the woods and need to light a fire and I have nothing but a box of tampons and my wits, I'll know what to do."
"Geeze." Dean sniffed as he sat back in his chair. "What's your deal?"
Sam took some long even measured breaths.
"We're in jail Dean."
"That's why yer panties are in a wad?" His brother asked incredulously.
It was indeed exactly why Sam's panties were in a wad. Handcuffs could do that to you. The tiny town and its three car force had managed to catch them in its one and only church. He had to admit, what they were doing didn't look so great. Stealing the meager collection of the tithe was probably one of the most despicable things a person could do. But it wasn't so much the money they were after as it was the old bowl that the money sat it.
There wasn't much use trying to explain that to the armed man that had been clued in by the old lady that lived right across the church's street. It figured they had done their breaking and entering during a 'Wheel of Fortune' commercial break.
The jail that they had promptly ended up in fit the town's theme.
The place only had one holding cell with two folding chairs in it.
When Dean had announced that he needed to use a bathroom they had unlocked the gate and pointed him down the hall to the same facilities the desk cops used.
"Man, I guess it's been a while since you've seen the inside of a pokey." His brother chuckled with a shake of his head while crossing his ankles comfortably.
"Hey, remember that time we got busted out in Alabama digging up that old broad's dog?" Dean's eyes lit up like he was recalling a particularly white Christmas. "Man oh man, Dad had to pretend to be our Catholic Youth Minster from our Jesus Boot Camp to get us outta there--"
"Yes." Sam cut him off. "I remember."
"And remember that other time in.. shit... where was that ... the place with that chick? The one that could take a bunch of ping pong balls and--"
"Echo Bay, Nevada." Sam provided.
"Yeah! Remember we thought we'd be smart and hide out in that outhouse? Then the old guy locked us in!" Dean slapped his knee with cuffed hands at the fond memory. "That county cop didn't get there till dawn..."
Sam could recount that endless night all too vividly.
"And hey, remember when I got nailed for a bunch of parking tickets? Fuckin' parking tickets! By the way Sergeant Sam, you made some awesome time there ... I thought I was headed to a state pen for sure--"
"You notice any consistencies in these stories Dean?"
"Um, besides the being in jail part?"
"Yes." Sam said. "Besides the being in jail part."
Dean thought for a moment before shrugging.
"No, not really?"
"There was always someone NOT incarcerated to come get us out!"
"Don't worry about it."
Sam shut his eyes and leaned back as comfortably as he could in the metal folding chair. Yeah, why worry about it? All these guys had to do was keep them in this little two bit local clink until they found the car. Then after a small town boondock country cop found all their crap in the trunk they'd be arrested for something a little bit more worrisome than petty theft. Then Dean and him could get matching neon orange jumpsuits and start their new career of picking up litter on the side of the highway. Maybe get hooked up with a couple of boyfriends from a LA street gang. He had heard the Latin Kings were a nice bunch of guys. Good to their mothers. And you know what they say about guys who are good to their mothe--
A shrill but soft ringing suddenly started. It was almost charming, like the sound of a bell letting out a classroom. Confused, Sam immediately stood when one of the only three officers on duty appeared.
"Okay fellas, nice and orderly." He said as he slid open the barred door. "We're just gonna take a walk out to the parking lot."
"Yes, sir." Dean said affably.
Sam quickly followed his brother as he exited, the cop bringing up the rear. Being as agreeable as possible, he chanced a look over his shoulder down the short hall as they were lead out.
Smoke was billowing up across the ceiling.
From the ladies room.
Sam looked at over at Dean who was waiting patiently for the officer to open the heavy double metal doors that had to be buzzed open.
His older brother was suspiciously unworried.
"Has it been a while since I've been in a locked down prison fire too?" Sam covertly asked under his breath.
"It's just one in a metal garbage can." Dean whispered to him sideways as they were ushered out into fresh night air.
"One tampon." Dean said as he carefully watched their police escort turn to observe what was going on within the small station's interior. "Scented even."
"Why do you think they make scented ones anyway?" Dean honestly asked.
Sam didn't answer as he too was intently watching the turned back and distracted armed officer.
"If I was a betting man--"
"You are a betting man."
"--If I was a betting man, I'd say that scenting the things really couldn't make a whole lot of difference."
The cop stepped back into the building when the sharp hiss and spray of a fire extinguisher could be heard over a few excited voices.
It was now or never.
Following his brother quietly through the dense dark cover of the woods, Sam felt a little badly for the guy. When the cop eventually turned around and found the only two people he was supposed to be watching were gone, someone was going to have to answer a lot of embarrassing questions. Mostly about combustible feminine hygiene products.
But Sam didn't feel that badly.
While he didn't know a whole lot of things for absolute certain in this big wide world, there were a few that he knew without a doubt.
And one was that he was probably way too pretty for jail.