Wishful Thinking -- Bad Sandwich

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The little boy from earlier brushes past us when we approach the well. "Think it works?" Dean asks.

"You got a better explanation for Teddy back there?" I retort.

Dean began rooting through his pockets. "Well, there's one way to find out." Dean says.

"What are you gonna wish for?" Sam asks.

Dean shushes him. He tosses the coin in to the water. "Not supposed to tell."

"Somebody order a footlong italian with jalapeno?" A man shouts from the doors.

Dean gazes at us with a wide grin. "That'd be me!" Dean exclaims. Sam and I exchange equally irritated looks before we sit at a table. "I think it works, dude. That was pretty specific."

"The teddy bear, the sandwich..." Sam trails off.

Dean hums and tugs out the newspaper from earlier. "I'm guessing this." He says, referring to the man winning the lottery.

"I'm guessing that." Sam mentions as he juts his chin to the couple at the other table.

"Well, that definitely goes on the list." Dean retorts.

"Hold on, my dad wasn't exactly George Clooney, but he managed to bag my mom." I mention in slight offence.

Dean hums. "Yeah, you got that right, hell, I don't think I coulda gotten her."

I grimace. "Thanks."

"Well, what are we supposed to do? Stop people's wishes from coming true?" Dean asks. "Sounds like kind of a douche-ey thing to do."

"Yeah, maybe, but come on, man." Sam sighs. "When has something like this ever come without a price tag? And usually a deadly one."

"I don't know. It's a damn good sandwich." Dean retorts.

I sigh and cross my arms over my chest. "Listen, this thing reeks of bad juju."

Dean sighs through his sandwich and nods. "All right. We'll put a hold on the wishing till we figure out what's going on."

"Uh, gentlemen, miss." The waiter hummed as he approached us. "I'm sorry. We don't allow people to eat outside food here."

I quickly come up with a rouse. "Well, we're certainly not gonna eat the inside food here." I retort plainly. "Health department." I hum as I hold up my badge. "You, my friend, have a rat infestation. We're gonna have to shut this place down under emergency hazard code fifty-six C."

"Rats?!" The waiter exclaims.

I had to hand it to the guy, he got this place cleaned out fast. "Typical fountain, plaster buddha." Dean hums. "Nothing I can see."

"Yes, nothing!" The waiter exclaims. "We keep a clean place here!"

"Sir, I'm gonna have to ask you to leave during the preliminary investigation, okay?" Sam urges. "Thank you."

"So, you tempted yet?" Dean asks me, holding up a penny.

I chuckle. "Unlike you're insane obsession with sandwiches, I have everything I need." I mention.

"Me?" Dean grins.

I hoist the baby up. "No, absolutely not, I got Mary, duh." I retort teasingly. "You're a close... third."

"Third? What's the second?" Dean shoots back.

I flicker my eyes down his body quickly, and smile. "Anyway, it wouldn't be real if I wished for something. I wouldn't trust it."

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