Becky was only too eager to oblige the intimidating policemen with their weapons, turning to face through the open door with her hands in the air, even as she started to shiver in the cold once again. Which, unfortunately, meant she had a perfect view as the cops behind Sam got a good look at his gun.

None of the cops moved to cuff or arrest either of them, not until Sam complied with their requests. "Officers, we were just..." he started to explain as he extended his arms and very slowly crouched down so that he could set the gun on the floor, but before he could finish his explanation, two of the four policemen rushed in and forced Sam onto the floor, pinning his arms behind his back, while a third moved forward to handcuff Becky. A fourth collected Sam's gun and checked to see if it was loaded, which it was.

"Sam!" The sheer fright in Becky's voice at seeing him pinned to the ground was chilling, never mind the pained gasp that broke as her own arms were twisted to her back to be cuffed at the wrists. "Don't hurt him, he wouldn't have shot at you!"

While they might just be a couple of kids, they couldn't be too careful where a gun was involved. "Take it easy," the officer cuffing her told her. It was a female voice that spoke in her ear and was carefully cuffing her wrists. "So long as he cooperates, he won't get hurt," she assured her.

As for Sam, he didn't have much choice but to cooperate. "Officer, I can explain," he started as his arms were painfully wrenched behind his back and secured with a pair of handcuffs, even as he felt someone's knee against his back.

"That hurts," Becky pointed out to the officer who was cuffing her, but she wasn't stupid enough to cause trouble, passively allowing herself to be restrained. "We didn't steal anything, we were gonna leave some money to pay for what we used. Seriously, this isn't as bad as it looks!"

"Save it for the station," another of the officers informed her, upon overhearing her attempt at an explanation.

Sam was wincing on the floor, but wasn't stupid enough to put up a fight. "My truck broke down and we just needed shelter until the storm was over," Sam tried to explain as he was physically held down.

"Why the gun, kid" You need a gun to get warm?"

Silenced, and a little bit scared now, Becky bit her lip, fighting down the urge to cry. They hadn't done anything all that wrong, had they' Did these people really expect them to sit and freeze in a truck rather than find somewhere to take shelter" They hadn't broken anything, not even the door when they'd come in. There was no need for them to be so hostile about all this.

"No, we thought you were burglars!" Sam explained, his voice a little muffled from where he was being restrained on the floor. "Becky?" he asked. "Don't hurt her. She hasn't done anything wrong."

One of the officers was radioing back to the station, claiming that the "suspects had been apprehended".

Hearing her name from the floor, Becky swallowed to clear her throat before she answered. "I'm - I'm okay, Sam," she promised him, hoping she wasn't lying. "My grampa's gonna kill me, but I'm okay."

"Cooperate and no one will get hurt," the female officer promised them both, leading Becky back inside the house where it was decidedly warmer, until they were ready to leave.

At the moment, Sam thought her grandfather was the least of their worries, though he was annoyed with himself for getting her into trouble.

"There's no one else here," one of the officers told the others as he rejoined the group.

"There is no one else," Sam argued from the floor, starting to get annoyed with the entire situation, especially the part about being tackled to the floor and restrained. "We're telling the truth!"

"My bag," Becky protested as she was walked back into the house, but she had a feeling her bag was going to be thoroughly searched anyway. She just had to hope they didn't try to confiscate her necklace - that really would be bad. Tripping over her own feet, she hit the counter with her hip, yelping in pain, and bit her lip once again, scowling in an attempt not to talk back to the officers all around them.

"We've got your bag," the female officer assured Becky, wincing when Becky bumped her hip, but offering no apology. It wasn't yet clear whether they had chanced upon a couple of harmless kids seeking shelter from the storm or had intercepted a possible robbery. All of that would get sorted once they took them back to the station and searched the house for missing items or any other evidence that might implicate the couple.

"All right," the fourth officer said. "Let's get them back to the station."

Sam was none too gently hauled to his feet, and both he and Becky was lead outside to one of the two police cars that were parked outside the house, while the female officer read them their rights.

"You have the right to remain silent..."

"Sorry, Becky," Sam apologized with a frown as he was hauled to his feet and led toward the door, feeling a little like a sheep being led to the slaughter.

Being handcuffed was not the most pleasant experience Becky had ever been through. Nor was being interrogated by a sour-faced female police officer who asked the same question over and over again. To then be assisted forcefully into a cell separate from Sam's and not know what was going on with him was as close to pure torture as she had ever experienced in her lifetime. From what the police had said, they'd located the truck and brought it to the station; they'd searched the house with the owner and come up with nothing missing. She'd been allowed her one phone call, and her grandfather had been none too pleased with her for making him her only phone call from the police station. Now all she could do was wait, and hope something vaguely miraculous was going to get them out of this one.

Satisfied that the two young people were ready for the off, Ephraim nodded to them and headed out the door, leading the way into the cold morning. "Henry has arranged for your truck to be returned to B&E Salvage in Sioux Falls," he said, his words crisp. "We'll get you both back home safely, don't you worry. But since you've come all this way with the obvious intention of camping outside until we let you in, the decision has been taken to allow you entry to the bunker. Rebecca, we will leave you at a local motel, where you will stay until you are collected by myself or your friend here."

Becky knew better than the argue, though it hurt to realize she was being deliberately cut out of whatever was going to pass within the Men of Letter's repository.

At first, Sam thought the man was addressing them both and that both of them would be allowed inside the bunker, but that hope was quickly dashed when Becky was told she would not be permitted inside. "But she's an initiate. Same as me. Why am I being permitted inside and she's not?" Sam asked, thinking Becky had just as much right to be there as he did. Sure, he was a Winchester, but so what? She had her own connections to the Men of Letters.

"Because she is not fully initiated into our organization, and has refused to be until she has a chance to explore the world a little on her own terms." Becky blushed, hearing the bitterness in her grandfather's voice as he explained to Sam. Ephraim paused beside his own car, a sturdy-looking Jeep, turning to look at Sam. "I don't pretend to know the whole truth of what is going on here, but whatever you said to Henry has convinced him to give you access and a chance to prove yourself to him," he said quietly. "Rebecca, however, is my granddaughter and my concern. I will not trap her into a life she is not ready to live, no matter her tendency to act for my benefit. If she is to stay free of the bunker for a while longer, she cannot go inside today."

Sam shook his head, as if ready to argue the point. He wasn't planning on becoming trapped in any way either, if that was what the man was implying. Like his father before him, he was a hunter, but he was also an initiate, and refused to choose between the two, but then the world he came from needed him to have possess the knowledge and skills of both, and he hoped he could convince his great grandfather of that necessity here. He opened his mouth to argue, then thought better of it, realizing that the older man was right. Though Sam wished she could have come with him, he realized it was probably better this way, at least for now. "I'm sorry, Becky," he apologized again, now that they had a moment to talk, reaching for her hand, while her grandfather looked on. "I didn't mean for this to happen."

A little downcast, Becky shrugged, curling her hand into his, ignoring the curious look her grandfather gave them. "It's okay," she lied unconvincingly. "I should have realized, really. It's the most important secret we have, after all." She managed a smile, trying to reassure Sam. "None of this was your fault, either," she added pointedly, looking him in the eye.

"I'll talk to him. See if he'll make an exception for you. If we're..." He hesitated a moment, as if just remembering that they weren't alone. "I meant what I said before. Nothing has changed," he told her, trying to make her understand that the promises they'd made together hadn't changed, and nothing Henry Winchester might have to say to him was likely to change his mind, at least where she was concerned.

Her smile relaxed, reassured instantly by his gentle reminder of the promises they'd made not so long ago. "I meant it, too," she promised him. "And you're right. Nothing has changed. But don't put yourself out trying to get me in. I've got a pass, when the time's right." She glanced at her grandfather, startled to see him grinning at the pair of them. "What's so funny?" she demanded.

Ephraim shook his head, chuckling, and gestured to the Jeep. "Get in, the pair of you," he told them, the sternness gone from his attitude and expression. He'd been given an insight into his granddaughter's new fella that had put him very firmly on their side, that was all. "I doubt either of you will have to go back on any plans you've already made."

If not for Ephraim Hoffman's presence, Sam might have had more to say to Becky, but he didn't want to get too personal or intimate in front of the man. He reluctantly let go of Becky's hand as he turned to face the man who was her grandfather and offered that hand to him. "Sam Winchester," he introduced himself, though he assumed he already knew that. "Thanks for your help."

"Ephraim Hoffman," the old man answered in kind, shaking the boy's hand firmly. For someone who had spent his life in a library, there were tell tale weapon calluses on his hands that spoke volumes to a hunter. "Come on," Ephraim told them. "I'm going to book the pair of you into a motel so you can get a wash and some sleep, and I'll come by later to collect you, Sam. But first things first."

Sam smiled, the thought of a warm shower and bed sounding like heaven. He wasn't sure if the man was going to book them into separate rooms nor did he care, knowing they'd find a way around that soon enough. "And food," he added. Whatever meager meal they'd been served in jail hardly passed for food, in Sam's estimation.

"Did you think I was going to let my granddaughter starve?" Ephraim laughed, knocking on the back door of the Jeep as he moved to climb in at the front. He could spot which way the wind was blowing, and despite Becky being a minor in the eyes of the law, he didn't mind. It was about time she started showing some signs of being more than just a book reading machine, and if this truly was a Winchester, he couldn't think of a better man for her to be doing that with. Of course, if Sam wasn't a Winchester, he wouldn't survive the night, but he didn't need to know that just yet.

Sam had no idea what the other man was thinking, only that the prospect of food and shelter was being offered. He wasn't too worried about proving himself, knowing things about his great grandfather that few even among the Men of Letters knew. He helped Becky into the Jeep before climbing in to join her, unslinging his pack and dropping it onto the floor at his feet. "How well do you know my great grandfather?" he asked, curiously.

"We've worked together for almost thirty years," Ephraim explained as they settled themselves in the back seat. He waited until the doors were closed before starting the engine, pulling smoothly out of the parking lot and turning onto the snowy road, a surprisingly confident driver for a man of his age. "He was my mentor, the man who first introduced me to the order. I was originally a member of the Judah Initiative, but being no longer a Jewish family, it was considered better manners for the Hoffmans to join the Men of Letters. Henry Winchester brought me in and taught me most of what I know. He's a good friend."

Beside Sam, Becky shivered with the chill, inching closer to make the most of his body heat as the Jeep slowly warmed up around them. She knew most of this, though not the specific names, but she never tired of hearing her grandfather tell the story.

He put the key into Sam's hand, and dropped a ring off his own hand into Becky's. "You're in nineteen, Mr. and Mrs. Winchester," he informed them, proving once again that small towns could be pretty unforgiving places. "I will come back for you at six, Sam. Try to get some food and rest before then."

Sam didn't really like the idea of leaving Becky alone in the motel room. Small town or not, there was a chance his enemies were looking for him, and he didn't want anything to happen to Becky while he was away. "You should stay with her while I'm gone. I don't think we were followed, but..." Sam trailed off, hoping he was worrying for nothing. He wasn't sure how much the Men of Letters knew yet, but Becky knew nearly as much as he did.

"I will arrange things so that someone is able to stay with her," Ephraim allowed, inclining his head to the young man with whom his granddaughter seemed so very taken. "Until then, stop worrying about what happens later. Look after yourselves and get some sleep. You've had a busy night."

Busier than the man knew, Sam thought with a knowing glance at Becky. He wondered what her grandfather would think if he knew they'd done more than just sleep together. "Thank you again," Sam told him, closing his fingers around the keys to their motel room. Mr. and Mrs. Winchester, he thought to himself. No, Mr. and Mrs. Sam Winchester. It had a nice ring to it.

Becky's blush didn't exactly keep their activities together a secret, but so long as they didn't mention it out loud, she doubted her grandfather was going to broach the subject. Sliding his ring onto the correct finger, she smiled at him, letting Ephraim embrace her warmly. "See you later, grampa," she murmured, kissing the old man's cheek affectionately.

"Go on, do as you're told," he grumped at them, waving them away with a grin. "I'll see you tonight."

Sam had not been expecting such a warm reception from Becky's grandfather, though it was really her father he was worried about. He reached for Becky's hand, once she was done kissing her grandfather. "See you tonight," Sam promised, patiently waiting until Becky was ready to go find their room.

Stepping back from her grandfather, Becky watched him climb back into his Jeep and pull out of the parking lot, incredibly pleased with him for being nice to Sam. She squeezed Sam's hand, looking up at him. "Shall we go and have a hot shower?"

"I'd like nothing better," he replied. The storm might have passed, but it was still cold enough outside to chill them both to the bone if they lingered very long.

"You've got the key," she reminded him with a giggle, gently giving him a tug out of the slush that coated the parking lot and over to the motel rooms themselves. "What was the number again?"

"Nineteen," he replied as she tugged him toward the motel and out of the cold. It didn't look like much more than a truck stop, but all they needed was a hot shower, a warm bed, and some food in their stomachs to be satisfied.

"I guess it's up the stairs, then," she mused, looking over the place thoughtfully. "Hot shower and bed, and we can eat when we wake up," she suggested then, moving to tramp up the slippery wooden steps to the next level in search of their room.

He followed her up the stairs, careful not to slip on the ice and snow, lugging his backpack with him, glancing at the numbers on the doors until they reached nineteen. Once there, he fit the key into the keyhole and opened the door.

"Oh, wow." Stepping inside, it was sheer bliss for Becky to discover that not only was the heat on, but it had been on for some time. Not only that, but the bed was big and clean, and ready to be fallen into. "If I said that this was heaven, would you think my expectations were way too low?"

He chuckled at her question, though he understood why she might feel that way, after what they'd been through over the last twenty-four hours or so. "I don't know. The house was pretty cozy once we got the fire going," he said, despite it not being their own. It had been a little like playing house, and he wondered if it was a preview of what living together would be like.

"Well, yeah, but this has a bed we're actually allowed to use," she pointed out with a chuckle. "And a shower. Oh God, please let the water be hot." Dropping her coat and bag, she scuttled into the bathroom for the express purpose of making absolutely certain that they were going to get the hot shower they'd been hoping for. "It is! Get in here and scrub my back!"

Sam laughed at her reaction to the room, which seemed pretty ordinary to him. "Yes, ma'am," he said, dropping his own pack and coat on the bed before following her into the bathroom. He'd made sure to lock the door once they'd entered, so they didn't have to worry about any intrusions.

Steam was already billowing from the doorway as he approached, and one hand reached out to grasp hold of his shirt and pull him into the bathroom with a wicked little giggle. One thing was for sure ....they were definitely going to be ready to sleep by the time they reached the bed.

((It's helpful having the Men of Letters in the family, innit' Huge thanks, as always, go to Sam's player!))