A Mess It Grows ~ Supernatural Fanfiction

The Van Allen's vs A Poker Game

The apartment itself was not stand out impressive. Simple, it held the basic furnishings you'd find in any motel or long-term boarding house - table, chairs, couch, television. The armorer tucked against a wall caught Alayna's attention. Dean must have thought it odd too, because he was currently rummaging through it. He paused, knocked on the back, and then after moving a few things aside opened a false back.

"A safe," Alayna said, smiling.

"Dime-store model. Piece of cake," Dean said. He turned the dial, squinting and then started to do a chicken dance with his neck, leaning in and out. Alayna frowned, looking at Karoline.

"It's like Mission: Pathetic, " Sam announced. "Can you even see the numbers?"

"Here, let me," Karoline said, edging in to the dial. Within seconds she had the safe open, and they all looked inside to find it almost full with poker chips.

"I could have done that," Dean insisted as Sam started to grab handfuls of chips.

"What are you doing?" A woman's voice sounded. Alayna jumped, reaching for her gun.

"Aren't you the chick from the bar?" Dean asked after a moment.

"I'm a lot more than that," she said. She threw her hand out in front, clenching it into a fist. Alayna felt a pain stab through her chest and cried out, dropping her gun on to the floor as she doubled over. There was a sound of someone approaching from the other direction and she looked up in time to see Patrick put a hand on the woman's arm.

"It's alright, sweetheart. It's alright. They're harmless," he said. The woman released her hold and Alayna gasped for breath, letting Sam pull her to her feet.

"You boys want chips? Take 'em. They're just chips, Einsteins. It's showmanship. This may come as a shock, but the magic does not lie in a pile of crappy plywood or in any phony abracadabra. It's in the nine-hundred-year-old witch. You want years? Score 'em the old-fashioned way. Texas hold 'em," Patrick said.

"Fine. Let's do it," Dean said. Karoline gaped at him, contemplated pulling her gun on him.

The Irishman seemed to be of a similar mind. He pulled an eight of hearts out of his pocket and held it in the air. "What card am I holding up?"

Dean squinted at the card, didn't answer. "That's what I thought. If your eyesight's that bad, what about your memory? I'm not a murderer," he said, turning to look at Karoline. "You, on the other hand...you I'd be happy to give a few years for free."

"Get away from her, you... you... man-witch!" Dean snapped, stepping in front of the blonde.

"Dean," Karoline said, contemplating the offer.

"No!"

"Oh, let me guess, girlfriend?" Patrick asked, then looked between the two of them. "Ex-girlfriend? Interesting." He looked past them to the man standing silently behind them. "What about you? Big, strapping young lad."

"No, Sam," Alayna shook her head.

"Alayna," Sam growled.

"What, Sam not much of a player? What about you sweetheart?" Alayna didn't answer. "Okay, well, happy trails, Dean. Enjoy the twilight of your life. Should have taken better care of that ticker, though," Patrick said, walking to the door and opening it. "You're free to go."

With a scowl, Dean made the first good decision he'd made all day - he walked away, and the girls followed quickly after. "Oh, but Sam..." Patrick said as they passed him. "Your brother's situation—that's punishment enough, but I can't let you leave without a small parting gift." He clapped three times then looked at Karoline.