The Raid

It's just after one in the afternoon and you're cutting the crust from a peanut butter sandwich. "Liam, you want jelly on yours?"

You son looks up from up his sea of building blocks with a grimace on his face. "No!"

"Alright, no jelly," you confirm. His cheeks are pink, hair stuck to his forehead. The air conditioning broke two days ago and Sam promised to have one of his guys come by to look at it by tonight. "You look hot buddy, why don't you come in here."

There's a ceiling fan set on high in the kitchen, bringing a small amount of much needed relief. He picks up several of his favorite toys and makes his way to table, taking glass of water from you and tipping it back with both hands.

Your other three children are scattered through the house. Killian, still an infant, is sleeping in the bedroom with the window unit Dean brought over the night before. The two middle children are sitting in the middle of the tile floor, one happily coloring the other with a bottle between his lips.

The Omega in you loves this: chubby babies and domesticity. There's still a slice of the old you that sometimes wonders what the hell you've gotten yourself into, but you wouldn't go back, wouldn't change anything. If you had a live-in nanny and unlimited funds you'd give Sam a football team, but four is already pushing the boundaries of too much, especially when they're all this young.

You're happy, but also exhausted. Sam stayed home for the first couple weeks after your youngest was born, changing diapers and making lunches, but that could only last for so long. He and Dean need each to keep the operation running, not to mention pack issues. Your Alpha is also the Alpha, which means a never ending cycle of pack business and territory disputes.

You take a moment, wiping sweat from your forehead and placing two hands on the counter. You've got no idea how regular, human women do this. Even with the perks of lycanthropy; body healing faster and phenomenal stamina, you're being pushed to your breaking point.

"Alright boys, lunch time," you sing-song, setting sandwiches and sliced fruit in the center of the table.

It's just as Liam reaches for his PB (no J) that the front doors explodes opens. Two police officers dressed in swat gear bearing M4s barge into your living room. All the children scream, and you freeze as more men clad in riot gear stream into your home.

"Police, hands in the hair, knees on the ground!" A man shuffles toward you screams with a gun pointed at your chest. Liam throws himself at you and the guy comes a second away from pulling the trigger, "I said on your fucking knees!"

You fall from the chair to the ground, somehow managing to gather the presence of mind to respond, "they don't understand–"

He doesn't respond, just booms in a loud voice "we've got kids in here, how do we proceed." After listening to whoever's speaking in his earpiece he points his weapon at your forehead. "Is there anyone else in the house?"

"No," you breath, then panic realizing you're wrong, "I mean yes, my son is the in the bedroom. He's just a baby. Please don't hurt us." You can already hear the high pitched screech of your youngest screaming from the bedroom, blending in with the chorus of crying children around you.

"Is Sam in the house?"

"What? No." You shake your head with arms held high.

"It's better if you tell me the truth right now. If we're the ones who find him, he'll leave in a body bag."

There's a moment when you think you might shift, it's never happened outside of a lunar cycle, but the rage stirring in your chest is making you vibrate.

You don't even know how to respond to that statement, you just blink and look at your sons who are sobbing, Colin, who's just turned one, sucks his thumb between his lips as he chokes on fat crocodile tears streaming down his chubby cheeks. "He's not here," you respond, the world moving in slow motion. "Can I…?" You look from the officer to your children. After a moment he nods and lowers his weapon as you sit in the middle of the floor, pulling them into your arms.

There are several calls clear, clear coming different part of the house, then uniformed officers pulling your children out of your arms. You protest, but to no avail as you're led to the back of a police cruise.

Interrogation: George

"I'm sorry to keep you waiting, I wanted to grab some coffee before we sat down to chat." The woman before you is holding two cups, steam rising out of both. She sets one in front of you, there's a cartoon police car drawn on the side along with the words: I like big busts and I cannot lie. I'm a cop - get your mind out of the gutter!

You push it away from you, shifting in your chair. "I'm breastfeeding."

"Oh, I know," she smiles warmly nudging it back toward you. "Yours is herbal tea."

"Is there anything else I can get for you?"

"You can tell me where my children are."

"They're just down the hall, we're taking good care of them, I promise." She holds two fingers up in a boy scout salute.

"I nurse Lee every couple hours. I need to see him."

"It's okay," her voice is soothing, she's like a horse whisperer earning your trust. "I'll make sure someone brings you to him in a little bit. I'm not heartless, I've got two of my own."

"There were assault rifles pointed at my kids, so you'll forgive me if I don't have the utmost confidence in your intentions."

"That's fair, I'd be pissed too. I'm sorry about that," she holds up her hands in a sign of compliance. "I don't want to get this thing started on the wrong foot. How about we start with introductions. I'm Detective Barden, but you can call me Linda."

She stares at you patiently, as you cup your tea with both hands. You haven't decided what version of yourself to share with her, but right now you get the distinct impression she thinks your mindless baby factory.

"George," you force a weak smile, pushing hair out of your face. "Are you going to tell me what's happening?"

"You aren't in any trouble, not yet anyway. I just want to have a conversation, but it's important that you tell me the truth."

"I'll tell you whatever I know, but I'm not sure I can be much help."

"We'll see, I'm sure you know more than you think. Does Sam ever talk about his work?"

"Sure, I mean I don't get the boring details but we talk just like everyone else does."

"And you're referring to Reliant Construction?" Linda raises and eyebrow.

"What else?" You look at her wide eyed. You both know that there's a laundry list of other businesses that he and Dean are involved in, but you're not going to play your hand, not yet anyway.

"Let's get to that in a minute," Linda smiles, still the good cop. "Tell me about Reliant."

"Like I said, I don't know the ins and outs. It's was Sam's father's company, when he died Sam and Dean took it over. They build, commercial, residential, a little of everything."

"They've been doing pretty well lately," she nods, thumbing through a legal pad, "they just built that new office building over in Hastings, and are set to break ground on a strip mall up highway eighty nine."

"I didn't know that," you sigh, making no attempt to the hide the fact that you're peeking at her notes. "Sam mentioned a couple new projects."

"But nothing specific huh?" She's testing the water now, lapsing into sarcasm to see if you'll take respond, but you pretend not to notice. Can't have Linda thinking you're too perceptive, you think.

"To tell you the truth he might have told me a bunch of stuff. I…I'm running on empty, just trying to keep going. Sam gets home and wants to talk while I'm just trying to get through the day."

There's truth in your words, not quite as desperate as you want her to think, but it's there. You let yourself feel the emotions, the anger and fear, tears well up in you eyes on queue.

Linda responds to this, her face softening. She thinks she's found her way in. "You've got a lot of your plate sweetheart, no one faults you for feeling overwhelmed. Four kids under five…I couldn't do it."

"Yeah," you wipe you eyes, giving her a weak smile. "It's a lot sometimes, but we make it work."

The impression of the completely overwhelmed housewife is a lie, but like all good lies it has to be rooted in truth. Your day to day life is a lot, too much for most women, but you're not just a women. You're a wolf and an Omega, creating a family with your Alpha is part of your DNA. Being a mother and a mate comes as naturally to you as drawing breath.

You need Linda to buy into the narrative you're creating.

"Trust me when I tell you I'm not the bad guy here. I don't want to traumatize your kids, or hurt you or your husband. I'm just trying to get to the truth."

"Then just tell me what you want to know."

"I want you to tell me about Sam."

"Okay," you hesitate, looking to her for direction. "Can you be a little more specific."

"Well, why don't we start with what I already know and we can work back from there huh?" She opens the folder in front of her. "George Winchester, twenty eight, originally from Broken Bow, Nebraska. Your mother, Millie, owns a bar, your father fixes up cars in his garage for cash under the table. You dropped out of high school your junior year, and started working for your mother the next summer. How am I doing so far?"

"Sounds accurate."

"Good, I'll continue. From what I can tell you were a good kid, worked hard, stayed out of trouble. Then, five years ago you met Sam. Seems like you must have hit off because then come the babies, one after the other. Liam three, Colin two, Owen one and the little guy, Killian, I guess you call him Lee. He's still just a tiny thing huh, almost six weeks? You must be one strong women to have four kids back to back like that." She whistles, sitting back in her seat.

"We want a big family," you shrug.

"You wanna know what I think?" She leans forward, spreading both palms on the table. She's going to tell you regardless of your wishes. "I think you're smart. You saw a strong guy, a guy who owned a company and could give you a different life, so you took a leap of faith. I think you were a highschool dropout who saw an opportunity to get out a life serving beer to truckers and you took it."

You set down your tea and look her in the eyes, "are you calling me a whore?"

"Correct me if I'm wrong but according to our timeline you had Liam nine months and two weeks to the day after you met Sam. You either got pregnant the night you met him or soon after. I don't think a smart girl like you lets a guy like Sam, a virtual stranger, knock you up unless one of you wanted it."

If you had the liberty there's a lot you could say to Linda, starting with the fact that she's not completely wrong. Sam did manage to put his first pup in your belly that night all those years ago. You both wanted it, but Linda isn't privy to the same knowledge, the mechanics of knotting, mating and bonding. She thinks Sam was your meal ticket.

When you don't respond to her commentary she goes on. "I don't think it was Sam who wanted kids, at least not back then. I'm not saying this to hurt your feelings, but the week before you walked into the picture he was still fucking anything with a short skirt and two legs. He didn't seem much like the type of man who settles down."

"What or who he did before I met him is none of my concern." You wave you hand, looking down the table.

"You're more understanding that I'd be." She smiles, devoid of joy. "Then again, there must have been something between the two of your becuase he went all in, didn't he? You get pregnant and Sam commits. That was a gamble."

"So you are calling me a whore."

"No," she shakes her head, she's genuine about this which you find interesting. She's about tell you what she really thinks. "I'm calling you a survivor."

"You don't know me." You set your jaw, lacing your hands together on the table.

"Really? I was working on this case long before you ever came into the picture. Six years I've watched Sam and Dean and rest of their buddies living like they're above the law. If there's one thing I believe with all my heart, it's that they are bad guys, George. While I can't say for sure what goes on behind closed doors, I'd be willing to bet that Sam is a guy who likes control."

"Why don't you just say what it is you're trying to say." You sit back, balls your fists under the table.

"Tell me about this." Linda pulls out a photo taken a few weeks ago. You recognize it immediately, it was taken in the emergency room. It's a photo of you with a black eye, swollen completely shut, blue and purple bruises spelling from the edge.

You'd like to have some great tale about how you got it, something about shifting under the moonlight and fighting with the pack, but the truth isn't exciting. Liam had been playing with Sam's Maglite and while you were holding him and making shadow puppets on the ceiling. He'd whipped it around, stronger than any normal toddler for obvious reasons and popped you right in the eye socket. Sam's the one who insisted you have it checked out fearing you'd damaged the orbital socket. Two X-Rays and a four hour wait later all you got was a visit was a visit from a social worker who very gently took your hand and asked if your husband was beating you.

Now that you look at the photo it's easy to see how she assumes you were punched.

"That was an accident." You don't offer details, just take a sip of your tea and wait.

"What kind of an accident?" She's softer now, lowering her voice as she morphs into a new, more caring version of herself. She's good, you'll give her that.

"The kind that's none of your business."

"Okay. What about these?" She lays another photo in front of you, this one looks like a surveillance shot. It occurs to you that they really have been watching and for a long time. This picture is from last summer, you're in Dean's backyard, standing the edge of his in-ground pool. Sam's in the water with with Colin held up in the air, his tiny face squealing in delight. It would be a sweet family moment if not for the marks covering your body. You're wearing a bikini that leaves little to the imagination and you're skin is littered with bites and bruises, hand prints on your arms and teeth marks up your back.

You shrug, "I like it rough sometimes."

"I don't think anyone want to be bit like that." She gestures to the scar at your neck.

"Sam's never done anything that I didn't want him to do."

"You believe that?"

"I don't have to explain myself to you or anyone else."

"Well, you're going to have to explain yourself to a social worker. I'm sorry but there are children involved, we need to put their best interests first. They'll need to make sure you and Sam are providing a safe environment before we can let them go home."

You shake your head, trying to hold back real tears."I can't believe you."

"Is Sam really the kind of man you want raising your children? The example you want to set? A man like that with a history of violence can't be how you imaged raising your boys."

What you'd like to tell her is that Sam's going to be an ever better parent than you when they're older. They're purebloods just like they father, born of two lycanthrope lineages. While you can only shift when the moon is full they'll all be able to control it like changing clothes. Sweet little Liam will shift into a beast just like Sam and then his brothers will follow. You'll have a house full of Alphas who'll look to Sam for everything.

"He's an incredible father," you answer honestly.

"I don't think incredible is the word I'd use. Let's review some of Sam's convictions before you met him." Linda pulls a stack of folders from her briefcase and throws them on the table, one by one as she receipts the charges contained in each. "Assault, drunk and disorderly, aggravated assault, that one's actually my favorite. Sam and Dean beat the this guys almost to death with their bare hands. The poor guy was so fucked up he wouldn't press charges. But I digress, we're aren't done yet. Disturbing the peace, disorderly conduct, suspicion of bribery."

There is a certain amount of truth in what she's insinuating, but it's an old truth.

When you first met Sam you were both younger and unattached and still wild. Sam was different back then, everything he did was governed by biology and testosterone. He got into bar fights with Dean, fucked who he wanted whenever he wanted and didn't give a shit about what anyone else thought. They got into trouble, a lot of trouble.

Now, a mate and four children later, Sam is a leaned out version of himself in every sense of word. He stops to think before he acts, always has a plan in place and never fails to make time for you and his children. He's found a patience that he never knew he was missing. And while there was steep learning curve, these days, his family comes first.

"I get the point." You concede.

"I'm not sure you do. Those aren't even the charges we're interested in, I could give a shit about bar fights and hookers. You wanna know what the world's best dad has been up to? Why you're here?" She pulls out a series of warrants, adding to the cluttered mess on the table. "Suspicion of: human trafficking, extortion, money laundering and eight counts of homicide."

Your eyes narrow as you take the paper from her, reading over the details. "There's no way this is true."

"Here," she throws a photo on the table. It's taken outside a location that you're not familiar but Sam has a young blonde woman by the arm, she's clearly in tears while he pulls her from his car. "Two days after this was taken she disappeared."

You recognize her but you don't let Linda catch in, instead tracing the outline of Sam's face on the picture. The woman he's got the arm was Alyson, her story is one you're well versed in and unfortunately it's not uncommon. She wasn't living by the pack rules, killed three people and threatened to expose you all. Sam, being the Alpha, was tasked with doling out her punishment. The rules don't leave much room for debate; you kill a human, you forfeit your own life.

"People disappear all the time. I doesn't mean that Sam had anything to do with it."

"I've got over a dozen missing persons cases where Sam and Dean are involved."

"I don't believe you."

"You're either willfully ignorant or blind. This is the man that's raising your kids."

"I told you, Sam is good to us. I know how things look, but it's true." You're starting to get tired with the insinuation.

"Right, an incredible father who married their mother… two months ago?" Linda looks up, waiting for a response.

"You have a problem with us getting married?"

"For five years and four kids Sam never seemed to feel the need to lock you down. The minute we start talking about bring Sam and Dean in, you two tie the knot at the county courthouse, while you're nine months pregnant."

"What's your point?"

"I hate to break it to your sweetheart, but it wasn't about love. My point is two words: spousal privilege. Somehow he knew what we had planned and married you to give you both legal protection. I can't compel you to testify against your husband. You were his last loose end."

Damn. She does know what she's talking about. Sam's your mate, bonded for life and neither of you needed a piece of paper to reinforce that commitment, your connection is far deeper than a ceremony. But Sam's informant tipped him off the three days before he dragged you down to City Hall and married on his lunch break while Dean tried to wrangle three toddlers out in the hall.

"What is it that you think is going on?"

"Your husband and his brother have killed people, George. They've got their hands in every cookie jar in the county and we're going to take them down. You can either help us or you can go down with him. It'd be sad to see those kids without a mother."

"I already told you, Sam doesn't talk to me about work."

"That's bullshit and we both know it. You've been with him five years, he trusts you. He married you because you know more than you should."

"That's not why we…" you take breath, holding yourself together. She thinks she's making progress, wearing you down.

"Right now we've got a team of people tearing your house apart, tossing Sam's office. We're going to search every inch of everything he owns until we find what we're looking for." Linda sits back, crossing her arm over her chest. "Here's the way I see it, you've got two options. You can tell me what I want to know about Sam, give me some information that will stick or we send in child services to launch a full scale investigation. Now would be the time to jump ship."

You're silent, staring her down with eyes locked. "I'm not normally a person who talks like this, but Linda… go fuck yourself."