The Gambler, a supernatural fanfic

The Gambler

My take on how John and Bobby met. In this story Dean is 7 and Sam is 3. I don't know John's age so for this stories purpose he is in his early thirties. Also I haven't read the Supernatural comics so if this story contradicts any of the information in there I'm sorry. The story is based on the television show only. Inspired by the song The Gambler sung by Kenny Rogers.

I do not own Supernatural or its characters and I certainly don't own the song. I'm not making any money off of this either, although it would be nice since I'm a poor college student.

Any reviews are appreciated, constructive criticism is always welcome.

On a warm summers evenin on a train bound for nowhere,
I met up with a gambler; we were both too tired to sleep.
So we took turns a starin out the window at the darkness
til boredom overtook us, and he began to speak.

He said, son, Ive made a life out of readin peoples faces,
And knowin what their cards were by the way they held their eyes.
So if you dont mind my sayin, I can see youre out of aces.
For a taste of your whiskey Ill give you some advice.

So I handed him my bottle and he drank down my last swallow.
Then he bummed a cigarette and asked me for a light.
And the night got deathly quiet, and his face lost all expression.
Said, if youre gonna play the game, boy, ya gotta learn to play it right.

You got to know when to hold em, know when to fold em,
Know when to walk away and know when to run.
You never count your money when youre sittin at the table.
Therell be time enough for countin when the dealins done.

John stared up ahead at the entrance to the bar as he turned off the engine of the Impala. He pulled the keys out of the ignition slowly and let them fall into his lap. A hand ran over his face and through his hair as he let out a sigh. Buxton, Mississippi, a one horse town complete with chubby sheriff and all. "Wake up boys."

He climbed out of the Impala and did a small stretch while Dean and Sam clambered out of the back. Sam eyes were drooping and he was leaning heavily on his older brother. Dean was just awake enough to make sure Sam didn't fall to the ground. "Stay close."

His boys had been in a few bars before and they knew the routine. Dad was armed and if anything happened they were to hit the ground, out of the way of any stray bullets. Small town bars were used to seeing kids though and John had yet to have any problems. In fact most bars had he had been too had a sort of unofficial kids menu. Even so John was still waiting for the time when Dean would be old to watch Sam. 'In a year or two.' John told himself.

The down and out trio stumbled into the bar and John directed them toward a booth off in a corner. A quick look for surveillance purposes showed that there was a fire exit, the door they had just come through and a door leading to the kitchen which most likely had a door going to the outside. It was a Sunday night and the crowd was thin. Three of the four people at the bar were intoxicated; one was close to falling off his stool. The remaining patron was sipping on a beer but sober. He was also observant of his surroundings and quiet unlike the other drunks. There were three other people sitting in a booth across the room but they looked young and thrilled at having been served beer. "Stupid high school students." John muttered. Then there was the bartender. She was an older lady who looked like she could take on any of the men in this bar. But when she came near John saw her expression soften at his two boys.

"Can I getcha anything sweetie?"

John gave her his best smile, he was tired but he wasn't rude. He looked over at his two boys to ask what they wanted but they were already sleeping again. They didn't always have money for a motel room; consequently the boys were used to sleeping anywhere. "Just a beer." John said, turning back to look at the waitress.

"Sure thing."

John waited for the waitress to return with his beer and leave before he pulled out some newspaper articles and a small journal from inside his jacket's pocket. The twelve clippings were from the town's newspaper in the past fifty years. Each one told of a man's supposed murder while staying at one of the town's two motels. You had to use the word supposed because there were no bodies. It was the same story each time. A maid would go into the room in the morning and find blood splattered everywhere, there were often bits of flesh and organs strewn about as well but there was never any body. Given the evidence it was highly unlikely any of the men would still be alive. The twelfth man had been murdered last week and the sheriff's department had no leads, surprisingly. This time the FBI had been called in, they were thinking copycat. John was wondering how people could be so ignorant.

So here he was. While John knew it was something supernatural, he just didn't know what. They victims had all been men; it could be a woman in white. It could also be a creature that ate humans, though none came to his mind. He had to keep reminding himself though that he was new to this. He had only been known about the supernatural world for three years now and had just really got into hunting a little over two years ago. Missouri had told him there were other hunters out there, some had been doing it for more than forty years, most didn't last that long though.

The newspaper clippings weren't revealing anything that hadn't the first few hundred times he had read them. John tucked them back into the journal and slipped the small book into his coat pocket. It was his first night in town; tomorrow he would go visit the sheriff's office. There was a small amount left in the beer bottle and John was swallowing it down when sober man from the bar slipped into the booth seat across from him. John dropped the beer and his hand instinctively went for his gun but he didn't draw yet. He resisted a look at his boys, intent to keep this intrusive stranger in his sights. "What do you want?"

"You can take your hand off the gun, I just want to talk."

John was a little surprised that the man knew he had a gun but had seen how the guy watched his surroundings carefully, like he had been trained, like too unlike himself. A quick scan told John that the man wasn't too old, maybe mid or late thirties, around his own age. Even at the relatively young age though the man's face was weathered and his eyes were dark. There were bags under his eyes and his hands were covered in calluses, scratches, and scars. He wore jeans and flannel with a trucker hat to top it off. Pretty soon John was comparing the many similarities he saw between himself and the man. His gut told him the man was telling the truth but John couldn't trust intuition, not when his boys were involved.

"Name's Bobby." Bobby stuck out a hand when he saw John relax a bit. Although he noticed that the hand was still on the gun.

"John." There was no need to share last names and John shook the offered hand, letting go of the gun cautiously.

"Great place to bring the kids." Bobby nodded toward the sleeping boys.

"Rather them here than in a hotel room alone. So what do you want Bobby?" John wasn't comfortable with his kids being the subject so he was eager to get the man's attention away from them.

Bobby noticed the small irritation at having the boys brought up so he decided to leave it alone. His mind went to the newspaper clippings in John's pocket but knew he couldn't go straight into that. Besides, he didn't even know for sure if this John character was a hunter. All he had was his gut intuition to go on and the knowledge that the man had been looking at the reason he himself was here. So instead he reached for the deck of cards in his pocket. This guy definitely looked like the card player type. "Wanna play a little poker?"

By now John normally would have bid the man good night and left. He didn't trust many people and didn't like to test it when Sam and Dean were in the firing zone. But something was keeping him here, maybe in was the look in the man's eyes. While Bobby wasn't old he looked like he had seen too much, just like John. "Deal." John said while Bobby played with the deck.

Bobby mixed up the cards and dealt, keeping eye contact with John to show he could be trusted.

"So what do you want from a man with two kids? I don't have any money; if I did I would have hired a babysitter." John took his cards and looked at them, it was an okay hand. Bobby hadn't offered they play for money and even if he had John wouldn't have accepted, he was out of cash. Even thought he was fairly certain he would win, there were hundreds of poorer Marines for proof, he never bet when he didn't have the money. Fights and unneeded attention came about that way.

"I didn't ask for money." Bobby said, organizing his cards in his hand by suite.

"I know, why?"

"Because you're a single father with two kids."

"I have a wedding ring."

"You're in a bar with two young kids. You've been playing with your wedding ring while you were looking at the newspaper clippings. A guy doesn't do that unless he's feeling guilty or missing someone. You aren't drowning your sorrows in your beer and you're the one stuck with the kids so I don't think you have anything to feel guilty about. You're tired and so are your boys. Your body is stiff and you probably haven't slept in a bed for days, your kids are also too comfortable sleeping in such a weird position. Not only are you a single father but I'd guess you're a widow and have been on the road for quite sometime."

John was taken a back by Bobby's honesty. He didn't know how he felt about someone being able to read him so well. While he often did it himself John decided he didn't like it when somebody did it to him. "That's pretty good for someone who has been through the same thing." That was his people skills at work.

Bobby smiled at that. This man was smart, if he was indeed a hunter than Bobby was happy to have him on their side. Their numbers were slowly growing again; they needed all the help they could get. But once again he didn't have any evidence this guy was a hunter. All he had was a gut feeling, some newspaper clippings, a journal that looked like his, and the knowledge that this man carried a gun. Bobby also knew there was a hunt in this town and occasionally hunters showed up in the same spot. It didn't happen too often since there were more than enough supernatural baddies to go around. "Without the kids though." Bobby responded, nodding towards the two sleeping boys.

John gave a small laugh and nodded his head in agreement. "It ain't easy." Mary immediately popped into his head at that and John felt his mood drop considerably. It had been three years a week ago and he still hadn't been able to get her out of his head. He still couldn't help but think that he could have do something, prevented it somehow, that he should have known what he knows now.

It wasn't hard to notice the change in John's demeanor. Bobby had hit a nerve. He noticed the man's eyes flit down to his wedding ring and John started to unconsciously finger it again. Bobby felt the memory of his wife rising slowly in him and quickly shoved it down. After ten years it was still painful to think about it and everyday he had to tell himself that there had been nothing he could have done. He didn't know what he knew now. "Can I give you some advice?"

John looked away from his ring and towards Bobby.

"Don't let it eat you up inside. Things happen for a reason. Life is about what you make of it. Any player can make a hand a winner and any player can make a hand a loser." Bobby said, holding up his hand of cards. "It all depends on the player."

John gave Bobby a hard look before asking. "When did you lose your wife?"

Bobby nodded his head, this man was just like him. "Ten years ago."

"Three years."

"We like to blame ourselves but we can't. When my wife died I nearly sunk into depression but her death also gave me a purpose, something that has allowed me to continue living."

John cocked his head a little and a mixture of confusion and hard thinking crossed his face. This Bobby character knew just what too say. How would he? Who exactly was Bobby? And why was he talking to him? Then it hit John. Bobby had to be a hunter. Like Missouri had said there were others, hunters just tended to be loners. That's why he had come over here; he had seen the newspaper clippings and was here to find out was happening, just like himself. So with just a little hesitation John asked his next question. "So how long have you been hunting?"

Bobby allowed a smile to creep onto his face. He was so good at reading people, and apparently John wasn't that bad either. "Ten years. And three for you?"

John nodded, he didn't need to explain that it took him a week to see Missouri and discover what is out there and then another few months to actually start grasping the concept of ghosts and poltergeists. It was ten months and fourteen days after Mary's death when he killed his first spirit.

"It must be hard with them boys."

"They keep me going."

"How old?"

"Dean is seven and Sammy is three. Their mom died over his crib when he was six months old."

"Most of us get into it because of our family. You won't meet a hunter out there that hasn't lost someone close to them, even if they don't like to admit it."

"They're a pain in the ass sometimes. Especially Sammy, he's asks too many questions. But if it weren't for them I don't know what I would have done." John stopped after that sentence because he realized what he was doing. Here he was spilling his life and some semi-private thoughts to a man he didn't even know. For God's sake he had only had one beer so far. But at the same time John had to admit if felt good. Just being with another hunter, talking and knowing that he wasn't alone was lifting a weight off his shoulders. For three years he had been alone, with no one to share things with or to help him. After Mary… after his best friend had been taken from him he had no desire to seek out another companion, no one could replace her. It was one of the reasons he still wore his wedding ring. But that also meant he had had no one to talk too.

"You're lucky, not many people have some else. There aren't too many attached hunters out there. Even the women are single. They don't want to have anyone get hurt because they were too close." Bobby knew the feeling of loneliness well. While hunters looked out for each other, most of them weren't that talkative. And hardly any of them could call each other friend. "You have to protect them. They're all you got leading a life like this."

John nodded silently, looking over at his boys sleeping soundly. They looked so peaceful, so worry free. Like any other time he stopped and allowed himself to think John began to feel guilty. Here he was, making his boys sleep in a booth at a bar. They were touted around from school to school; they never had their father around. Their home was always a car or a motel room. Unconsciously, because he never would have done in front of another person, John ran his hand through Dean's hair gently and then pulled a stray strand of hair from Sammy's face. They were his boys, they were his life. He would give anything for them.

Bobby busied himself with putting the deck of cards away to allow John that private moment. He couldn't imagine how hard it must be for John to involve his sons in this kind of life. Hunting wasn't for children. But Bobby didn't know if he could have given it up if he had kids. He couldn't blame John for going after his wife's killer. When John was done but still staring at his boys Bobby spoke up. The tension was getting too thick for his liking. "So what do you think we're dealing with?"

Now evry gambler knows that the secret to survivin
Is knowin what to throw away and knowing what to keep.
cause evry hands a winner and evry hands a loser,
And the best that you can hope for is to die in your sleep.

So when hed finished speakin, he turned back towards the window,
Crushed out his cigarette and faded off to sleep.
And somewhere in the darkness the gambler, he broke even.
But in his final words I found an ace that I could keep.

You got to know when to hold em, know when to fold em,
Know when to walk away and know when to run.
You never count you r money when youre sittin at the table.
Therell be time enough for countin when the dealins done.

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