Crossroads - Supernatural Rewrite

Bugs

The neon lights buzzed faintly above the Impala as Sam leaned back on the hood, flipping through local headlines. The hum of music bled through the walls of a small dive bar ahead.

A newspaper was spread across Sams lap, his eyes fixed on an article. The faint scent of stale beer hung in the cool night air as he flipped to the next page, his brow furrowed in quiet concentration.

The bar door banged open, spilling red light and the sound of laughter into the night. Dean sauntered out, his grin wide and triumphant as he chuckled, a wad of cash fanned out in his hand.

Sam glanced up, unimpressed. "You know, we could get day jobs once in a while."

"Hunting's our day job." Dean said, counting the cash in his hand with a self satisfied smirk. "And the pay is crap."

Sam dropped the paper in his hands slightly, "Yeah, but hustling pool? Credit card scams? It's not the most honest thing in the world, Dean."

Dean held up one hand. "Well, let's see honest." Then he raised the other. "Fun and easy." He tilted his head as if weighing the two. "No contest. Besides, we're good at it—it's what we were raised to do."

"Yeah, well, how we were raised was jacked." Sam countered.

Dean's grin faltered for half a second, but he shook it off with a shrug. "Yeah, says you."

The door creaked open again. This time, Kat stepped out, her dark curls catching the faint light from the bar's neon sign.

"What'd I miss?" She asked, her tone light, though her posture was tense.

"Sammy here wants us to go legit, nine to five style." Dean quipped, his grin back in place.

Kat raised an eyebrow, "Oh yeah, living the dream behind a desk."

Dean smirked. "Exactly. No fun in that."

Kat made her way down the stairs toward the two of them and gave a soft chuckle, but her expression didn't quite match the laugh. Her mind wasn't on the banter. Not really.

She was still hearing Dean's voice from their last hunt, his words circling like vultures in her head. "Maybe it's just...proximity, you know? We're on the road together all the time. Same car, sharing motel beds."

The look in his eyes had been so painfully honest, she'd wanted to argue, to tell him he was wrong, but the words seemed as if they were meant more for his sake than hers.

"You good?" Sam's voice cut through her thoughts, his eyes narrowing as he looked at her.

Kat blinked, "Yeah. Great."

Dean caught the slight edge in her tone. He glanced at her, his expression unreadable, before turning back to Sam. "So, we got a new gig or what?"

Kat sighed, crossing her arms tighter around herself as Sam began rattling off the details.

"Maybe." He said. "Oasis Plains, Oklahoma, not far from here. Gas company employee, Dustin Burwash, supposedly died from Creutzfeldt-Jakob."

Dean paused, squinting at Sam. "Huh?"

"Human mad cow disease," Sam clarified.

Dean frowned, tilting his head. "Mad cow. Wasn't that on Oprah?"

Sam's disbelief was immediate. "You watch Oprah?"

Kat stifled a laugh as Dean's face twisted in embarrassment.

"Shut up," Dean muttered toward her, unable to come up with a retort. He waved a hand, eager to steer the conversation away from his television habits. "So, this guy eats a bad burger, why is it our kind of thing?"