Focus. Yes. He needed to focus. He was not panicking. He couldn't. He needed to be pissed, not afraid. And he was. Just a few minutes ago, at the house, he was pissed, extremely pissed, there-will-be-blood-pissed. But once he sat in the car it consumed him again. The fear that he will lose another brother. He didn't think he could take it again. So there he was. Not-pissed-panicked-trying-to-be-pissed-again-idiot who looked downright suicidal to the other traffic participants. Okay. Not panicking. I can do it. Hell, he was fooling himself, of course he was panicking! His brother – his little, kid brother – was in life-threatening danger. Again. And he wasn't by his side to protect him. Again. Why did this always happen? Someone must have hated him. Yeah, some idiot up there hated him and now he was getting laugh of his life. I'm gonna rip you apart, you son of a.. Great, now he was being blasphemous. He was going to end up in Hell, definitely. First, not being there for his little brother and now he was pointing his anger towards Him. Just. Freaking. Great. He hit a steering wheel, repeatedly, accidentally hitting the horn. Damn it. He just hoped that only thing that would happen on this road would be just irritating other drivers. Because if there was something to happen, what would he say then? Hey, sorry bro, couldn't save you, can't even drive without crashing. As on cue, he nearly collided with oncoming traffic. Crap. He had to calm down. Yes. Just a little bit. He can do it. Yes. Deep breaths. He can do it. God damn it! He was hitting the steering wheel again, hoping he will avoid the horn this time. Why does it have to be Jamie?!

One. Two. Three. Four. Three in play, fourth hidden. Jamie hoped there wasn't fifth. It was bad enough as it was. Thick atmosphere was filling the whole shop. The fire was radiating from young eyes, threatening to burn anything and anyone in close distance. Creepy Woman was frozen to the spot, staring into the barrel, dreamy expression on her face, unable to comprehend what was happening. Wall Street was bitching about 'the scum', but no one paid any attention to him. The clerk was blinking rapidly, like it was all just a dream, or maybe the result of smoking too much pot. Not one of them could believe there was a kid with a gun, with every intention to use it.

The same didn't go for Jamie, though – or the other two officers, for that matter. On-duty cops were shouting obligatory orders, while the off-duty one walked slowly closer, hoping to diffuse the situation. The teenager looked anxious, trapped, like a caged animal, but the gun never wavered. The fire in his eyes seemed to intensify as he hissed through the clenched teeth:

"Get. Out."

The cops didn't move a inch, but Creepy Woman did. She tried to take a step towards the door, but angry voice stopped her in her tracks.

"Not you. Them." he said, spitting the last word like a curse. On-duty cops still didn't move. The kid was staring at them, but by the corner of his eye he was scanning the rest of the shop for any other threats. Jamie was close enough to attempt to calm him down, so that he did.

"Listen kid, why don't you put down the gun?" he said calmly.

"They're not taking my brother." the kid said, with clear determination in his voice. Jamie was then sure – he would use the gun, if anyone was to even touch his brother again. And that determination was very dangerous, especially with another three guns in play, two already drawn out.

"Okay. Just calm down." Jamie said, slowly advancing closer. "Wanna tell me what happened here?"

He expected his fellow officers telling him to step away, with him close to line of fire and all, he expected Wall Street's bitching, he even expected the clerk's crying, but he did not expect Creepy Woman to join the conversation, especially when all the kid's anger was directed at her. But she did. And in times like this, Jamie was losing all hope in humanity – some people just couldn't get any more stupid.

"I was just.." she said, stupidly refocusing the kid's homicidal look on her again, not to mention his gun.

"You shut up, bitch!" he snapped at her, as he pointed the gun in her direction. Jamie's colleagues were getting twitchy, he could see that. He had to do something. Quickly.

"Hey, hey. Focus on me, kiddo." Jamie noticed pain-filled expression, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared.

"I'm not a kid." he said insolently, like a child he really was. He gave him what he was hoping was comforting smile and resumed with conversation, pretending there wasn't anyone else.

"All right. What's your name?" he asked and the pained look appeared again, but this time, it remained.

"You know. Everybody knows." he said in resigned voice, the pain in his eyes still present.

"Just humor me." Jamie said, because – yeah, he was familiar, but that was about it. He had no idea where did he see him.

"Dean." the boy said quietly. Dean. No, still nothing.

"Okay, Dean. I'm Jamie. What happened here?" Jamie asked and could see the conflicted look. The boy was contemplating whether he should trust him enough to tell him. In the end there was careless expression on his face, like it didn't matter if he told him. And so he did.

"She wanted to take Sam. But we have to be together. She wouldn't listen."

Dean and Sam. Sam and Dean. Right then Jamie got it. But he still couldn't believe it. Could it really be them? The Winchester Brothers? But as he was looking at the kid, he knew he was right. The long missing children were right here, in front of him. That explained where he saw them – there was time everyone was looking for them, without any luck. And he meets them in random grocery shop. Who would've guessed, huh?

And as soon as he knew who the boy was, he knew what was this all about. There is no worse thing in the eyes of two brothers who have no one but each other than to be separated. It's their worst fear, the scariest nightmare, the one thing the older brother will never ever allow to happen. Even if it means taking hostages.

"Peters, Jenkins, stand down. Get out of here." he addressed his colleagues, knowing there was no chance Dean would give up with them in the room.

"Reagan.." Jenkins started, but was sharply interrupted by Jamie.

"He's on the edge. You're making it worse. Out." Jamie said, but his colleagues were looking at him disapprovingly, not moving a inch. "On my responsibility. Out!" He barked at them, and this time, he was successful. He sighed with relief and focused his attention on Dean, who relaxed slightly, but was still pointing the gun at Creepy Woman.

"Dean. Put down the gun, please. You have my word, no one will separate you." he said in soothing voice.

"Your word means jack squat." Dean said sharply, pained look gone with angry one in his place.

"Dean." the small voice said. Everyone looked at the younger boy, surprised. For the whole time he didn't say a word, it was like he wasn't even there. Quite the irony – when this whole mess was because his brother was protecting him. Said brother looked at him, with eternal love in his eyes, his whole posture radiating affection towards him, there was visible unbreakable bond between them, the kind only brothers could have.

"He's nice." the boy – Sam – said. And it looked like there was whole another meaning behind that sentence, like there was some silent conversation between the brothers that no one else was capable being part of.

"You sure, Sammy?" Dean asked softly.

"Yeah." Sam said, with big eyes looking up at his brother. It was like unsaid request, silent pleading to – Jamie didn't know what, because apparently these brothers had the most incredible non-verbal communication he had ever seen. Dean was looking into his brother's eyes, as if deciding whether he should listen to his request, whatever it was. In the end, puppy-dog eyes of the younger brother seemed to win, because Dean sighed, resigned.

"Fine. Here you go, officer 'Nice'." he said, slowly lowering his gun.

"Thank you, Dean." Jamie said, smiling at him and approaching him, so he could take the gun. But his joy was short-lived, when they heard another sirens, closing in. Grip on the gun tightened again and before Jamie realized what the hell happened, he was staring right into the muzzle. He glanced around the shop and saw they were alone. He didn't know when exactly the others left, but it had to be somewhere between the time Dean lowered his gun and the time the sirens rang out. And when he looked at Dean, he knew all the trust he gained was thrown out of the window. He met Dean's eyes full of rage and he saw that the fire was back in place again, worse than ever before. It matched his menacing voice as he said:

"You tricked me."