You Ruined Us (Dean Winchester Love Story Book 5)

Chapter 22

Chapter 22

 "We're not done."

DEAN'S POV

~MADAME LIU'S~

Sam and I walk along the corridor at Madame Liu's.

"Well, at least he's consistent. Same room every Tuesday, hourly rates." Sam chuckles. "Hope I got that kind of kick when I'm his age." I joke. "Yeah, like either of us will live that long." Sam laughs. "True." I chuckle. "So, what do you think's in there?" He asks. "A wrinkly, gooey corpse." I say as we top outside room 44.

"Oh, God! Oh, God! Oh, God!" We hear a man yell from inside.

Sam and I kick down the door to find the man naked and woman who is barely dressed. "Oh god." We say as another woman comes out from under the covers. "It's gooey." Sam whispers to me and I try to hold in my laugh as both the women flee from the bed.

"Sorry. Uh, got the wrong room." I say. "Close the door!" He yells at us. "Hey." Sam says and I look at him weird. "Nice tattoo." Sam says to him. "Happen to know anybody named Cliff Whitlow?" Sam asks as he walks more into the room. "Never heard of him." The guy says. "Well, that's weird." Sam says as he pulls a wallet out of the guy's pants, opening it. "Cause you're carrying his wallet." He says as he looks at the ID.

Holy shit it's Cliff.

I walk over to the bed and yank up the covers, looking underneath seeing the birth mark that the wife had told us about. "You're wife told us about your, uh, birthmark there. That's nice. Well, you look great. Cliff. Did you get some work done?" I ask.

"Could you give us some privacy." He sighs to the girls.

I look over at the two women, who are now robed. As Cliff get's up and puts on his robe, the girls slap him across the face before leaving. "Please don't tell my wife." He says. I look over at him and see that he too now has on a robe. "Slow down." I say as he starts getting worked up. "I'm begging you. As far as she knows. I'm dead. For the love of God, let's keep it that way." He begs.

"How can you possibly be Cliff Whitlow?" I ask. "It was a game." He says. "Like...Xbox?" Sam asks. "What's Xbox? No. Poker. High stakes. Instead of cash, you play for years." He says. "What is that supposed to mean?" I ask him. "Look, I know it sounds crazy. Guy comes up to me at a bar, invites me to play. Gives me twenty-five of these weirdo poker chips, right? Chants some mumbo humbo over them, says now they're twenty-five years. I'm laughing, but then I come out up and look at me." He chuckles.

"What was he chanting?" I ask. "How should I know? All I know is, my bad hip's good, I threw away my glasses. One of those ladies was here for free! Man's some kind of miracle worker." He laughs. "What does this miracle worker look like?" Sam asks. "Just a guy. Maybe thirty-five, brown hair. Irish accent. His name was Patrick." He says.

"All right, all right. Where's this game at?" I ask. "He said he likes to keep moving. Never stays in one bar long. And he finds you." Cliff says. "Thank you, Cliff." I say before Sam and I leave.

As we head to the car, I pull out my cell phone and call Skye. "Hey Dean." She says. "Hey so get this Cliff is alive." I say to her. "What?" She asks. "Apparently he played poker and he bet years so now he is 32." I chuckle. "What the fuck?"

"It sounds crazy, right?" I chuckle. "I mean yeah but no at the same time. There's lore on it. Goes back centuries. Traveling card player pops into town. You beat him, you get your best years back. Course, most folks lose." She says. "Well, that would explain the crunchy corpse." I say to her. "Supposedly, this player's a hell of a card shark. Got a lot of years in the bank. You find the bar he's working in yet?" She asks.

"There's a lot of dives in this town. We're gonna have to split up." I tell her. "Well, why you still talking to me?" She laughs before hanging up. I shut my phone and get into the Impala.

~BAR~

"Find anything?" Sam asks. "Yeah, a whole bunch of squat. You guys?" I ask. "No, not a thing." Sam says. "All right. Well, you come up dry, circle back to the motel in two. Your turn to grab dinner." I say. "Usual?" He asks. "Tell Skye extra bacon cause you will forget." I say before hanging up.

"Can I get a beer?" I say to the bartender. "Yeah sure thing." He says as he reaches for a beer bottle. "You wouldn't happen to know of a poker game going on in back, would you?" I ask him as he opens the bottle before passing it to me. "It's a bar, not a casino." He says. "My friend Ben told me you'd know." I say.

"Don't know any Ben." He scoffs. "Sure you do. You know, balding, smart-ass, real ladies' man?" I smirk at him. "Listen pal, I told you, I don't know any Ben. I don't know nothing about a game." He glares over at me. "You sure? Cause, uh...." I slide a hundred-dollar bill, with its picture of Ben Franklin, over to him. "He sure seems to know you." I chuckle as he glances down then at me as he takes the bill.

"Follow me." He says before heading towards the back. I get up and follow him to the back of the bar. "Round back. Take the elevator down." He says to me before we hear something clattering. I turn around where I heard the noise come from and find Bobby rolling out of the elevator.

"Bobby? What the hell are you doing here?" I ask. "Planting Daisies. What's it look like? Came in on the case." He says as he makes his way over to me. "And you beat me here?" I ask. "Well, brains trumps legs, apparently." He chuckles as he rolls around me, heading to the front of the bar, with me following.

"So, you found the game?" I ask as we head out to the parking lot. "Yep." He says. "Did you stop it?" I ask but I soon begin to frown as he doesn't answer me. "Bobby?" I ask and he stops before turning around to face me. "Not exactly...." He trails off.

Oh no Bobby, what the fuck did you do?

"What did you do?" I growl. "I played okay." He says. "For fuck sakes Bobby are you serious right now? What happened?" I ask in anger. "I lost to some man witch." He sighs. "Are you kidding me? You played some...some he-witch?" I growl. "Don't you take that tone with me." He growls back. "You idiot!" I yell.

"They're my years! I can do what I want!" He yells. "How many did you lose?" I ask. " Twenty-five." He says. "You have to be fucking kidding me." I growl as I head back to the elevator. "Hey! Where are you going?!" He yells behind me. "We're not done." I yell to him.