𝐃𝐎𝐍𝐎𝐕𝐀𝐍

𝐒𝐈𝐗𝐓𝐘-𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍

Three steps onto the pavement, chasing after the waitress who must have absconded with the cursed foot, Sam slips and falls. He narrowly avoids busting his chin, but his palms are all scraped up. Dean and Katherine both stop and turn to look at him with the sourest, most unimpressed expressions known to man.

"You suck," Katherine pronounces, shaking her head as she turns on the balls of her shoes, and continues to the Impala. Dean lets out a heavy sigh and moves to pull his brother up.

"So what, now your luck turns bad?" Dean asks, giving his brother the once-over. Scraped palms, bloody knees, but that's all. Surprisingly.

"Ye-ap," Katherine calls, opening up the passenger door. "And if we don't get that damn foot back, Sam's gonna die. Tattoo's on the back burner, we're going to Brayden's."

The property manager is practically quaking in his boots when he sees the three hunters come through the door again. This time, they're a little less pissed off, and Dean is trying hard to keep Sam on both feet. Katherine wordlessly tips her chin at the manager before heading for the stairs. She stops and turns to look at Dean.

"Do we risk the stairs or the elevator?" She asks. Sam whimpers a little. Dean grits his teeth and glances between the two. "Stairs," they chorus.

It's like helping the elderly up the stairs. Katherine tests the step before walking backwards onto it. She holds Sam's hands, Dean has his hands on Sam's hips to keep him up in the event of a slip. Luckily, they make it to Brayden Wayne's apartment without so much as a scratch.

Dean stands in front of Sam, almost like a human shield, to keep Katherine's gun as far away from Sam as possible. The last time they were in this apartment, everyone's luck flipped on a dime. Now that the foot's gone, anything could happen. Sam could split his forehead open and bleed out, or maybe hit his head so hard he gets a hematoma and dies.

"Oh, man," Brayden's partner whines, his expression wrinkling upon seeing the three imposing hunters once more. He's sitting in one of the few unharmed chairs near the window with the radio playing some Spanish music. He's holding a photograph in one hand and a bottle of whiskey in the other. "What do you want?"

Katherine glances to the photograph in the friend's hand. "He dead?"

"Piss off."

Katherine nods and takes a breath. "I'll cut to the chase. We want the name of the person who hired you to steal that rabbit's foot. A woman."

"Why would I give it to you?"

"It wasn't a freak accident that killed your partner," Katherine says through her teeth. "Whatever happened to him was because that foot is cursed. Whoever gets it and loses it earns an expedited cell on death row."

"What?"

"It was the rabbit's foot."

The man scoffs. "You're one crazy chick."

Katherine clicks her tongue. "You know I'm not. You saw it earlier today—all the flukes, the spins, the luck. You remember." Katherine shrugs. "When you have the foot, you could probably win all the cash in every Vegas casino and get away with it. You lose the foot, that luck turns south. That's what killed your friend. And that Sasquatch over there is next. And after him, who knows how many more innocent people will be next?" Katherine moves to crouch before the man. His blue eyes are glassy with tears and the buzz of alcohol. "And if you don't help us put the brakes on this, those deaths with be on your head." Dean glances to the back of Katherine's head, waiting for her to continue. He watches with alarm as she sticks her gun in the holster at the back of her pants. "I have a talent," she hums, crouching down before Brayden's partner. "I'm very good at reading people. You may be a thief, but I know you're not a killer." The man shakes his head, looking down to the floor. "What's your name?" She murmurs.