Meet the Winchesters

Bugs

You walk away from the pool table and the group of men you were just playing with. You had won about $300 off of them, mostly because they underestimated you, probably because you were a girl and because you were at hustling pool. You walk over to the bar and order a shot of whiskey. You down it and then place a one on the top bar, paying for your drink. You look around, tapping your foot to the beat of the music, until you find your older brother, he was playing a game of pool too, and he was winning. A few minutes later you hear everyone around the table Dean was playing at groan, Dean had won. Dean walks away with a wad of cash, searching the bar for you. When his eyes land on you, you smile and hold up your wad of cash. You make your way through the crowd, finally reaching your brother.

"How much did you get?" he asks, making his way to the door, once you reach him, you walk beside him, still holding the wad of cash in you hands.

"'Bout $300, I think. What about you?" Dean opens the door for you and you walk through, searching the parking lot for your younger brother. You find him leaning against Baby, reading a newspaper.

"About $250," Dean makes his way over to Sam. When he get's close enough he start's laughing and he waves his cash in the air. You smile at his antics, but follow his actions until you reach Sam.

Sam looks up at you and Dean, annoyance plastered across his face, "You know, we could get day jobs once in awhile."

"We have a day job," you point out, shoving the wad of cash in your hidden pocket in your jacket, "Pay sucks though, if you haven't noticed."

"Yeah, but hustling pool?" Sam sets his newspaper on the hood of the car and looks at you and Dean pointedly, "Credit card scams? It's not the most honest thing in the world, (Y/N)."

"Well, let's see, honest," Dean hold out one hand, "Fun and easy," he hold out the other, and then proceeds to demostarte that 'fun and easy' outweighs 'honest,' "It's 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 crosses his arms.

"You have a point, but you just got used to livin' honestly, we never did," you pause, "Any jobs?"

"Maybe. Oasis Plains, Oklahoma; not far from here. A gas company employee, Dustin Burwash, supposedly died from Creutzfeldt-Jakob," Sam uncrosses his arms and rests them on the hood of the car.

"Huh?" Dean asks, looking at you for an explanation.

"It's a rare, degenerative, brain disorder. Sorta like human mad cow disease. Um, symptoms include; I think, didn't really learn a lot about this, but, symptoms are depression, mood swings, confusion, disorientation, memory problems, bad judgement and planning, difficulty walking, and muscle stiffness," you explain, using your hands to count out the symptoms.

"Mad cow," Dean repeats, thinking, "Wasn't that on Oprah?"

You snort and Sam asks, a smile plastered across his face, "You watch Oprah?"

Dean stays silent, his face and neck are getting red, so, he changes the topic, "So this guy eats a bad burger. Why is it our kind of thing?"

"Mad cow disease, like (Y/N) said, causes massive brain degeneration. It takes months, even years for the damage to appear. But this guy, Dustin? Sounds like his brain disintegrated in about an hour. Maybe less," Sam explains, looking at you and Dean pointedly.

"Huh," you say, "Strange."

"Yeah. Now, it could be a disease. Or it could be somethin' much nastier," Sam get's off of the hood, grabbing his newspaper on the way. He opens the passenger seat door and slides in.