Dean Winchester rolled into Perfection, Kansas on the kind of hot August afternoon when the humidity wraps around you like a wet shroud that makes your lungs feel heavy. The western sky looked angry with a thunderstorm rolling in over the prairie. The black '67 Impala he drove growled low and mean as they rolled down Main Street. Most of the buildings on Main Street were brick affairs with high false fronts, built over a hundred years ago, but most were boarded up as the town died a slow death over time.
Two places still had their lights on, a self-service gas station with some overpriced groceries called Dale's Qwik Shop, and an old tavern across the road named the White Bison Saloon. The dating stone stuck over the door read 1871. There was a large cottonwood tree growing on the south side of the building, it branches shading the building.
Dean pulled into the gas station and crawled out of the Impala and went inside. A slushy machine hummed and buzzed stupidly by the front counter where a cute blonde stood in a black Jack Daniels T-shirt and cutoff jeans. Dean gave her his best smile, but she didn't pay much attention to it. She seemed anxious, and stared out the window at the old saloon. That right there told him something was wrong, imagine a girl ignoring him. He grabbed a chili stuffed belly bomber of a burrito from the cooler on the back wall and threw it in the industrial microwave nearby and punched the numbers to make it hum.
There was a small magazine rack nearby, mostly with housewife crap, but there were some girly mags in plastic wrappers with black bars across the front to hide the good stuff. A quick flash-boom loud enough to rattle the windows made the girl at the counter flinch. It wasn't a startle effect like you expect where you try and jump out of your skin, she flinched like someone was about to hit her. All the while, she looked out the window at the bar across the street.
The microwave dinged and Dean pulled out the burrito and wrapped it in napkins to keep it from burning his fingers. He grabbed a six-pack from the beer cooler and went to check out.
"Thirty dollars on the pump, Gorgeous," he said, flashing his best smile again. She didn't smile back and quickly ran the credit card without saying a word. She handed the receipt to him so he could sign it.
"What time is it?" Dean asked the pretty young blonde.
"What?" The girl asked back, as if she hadn't heard the question.
"What time is it?" Dean asked again. He could see tears in the corner of her eyes.
"It's 4:00pm." Her voice had a catch in it as she told him the time.
"Awesome," he replied with another smile.
Dean filled up Baby and ate the burrito, watching the time closely on his watch. When the hands on his watch read 4:20pm, he walked over to the White Bison Saloon.
The bar was lit by only flickering oil lamps that made shadows dance on the walls. The interior of the place would have been contemporary when the herds of longhorn cattle were being driven north out of Texas. There were more patrons here than one would expect. They were dressed in all sorts of outlandish outfits, some were cowboys, others wore wide collared polyester shirts from the disco era and still others in styles that had come and gone through the last one hundred and fifty years. No one was talking. They just sat or stood in forlorn silence staring at Dean. Some seemed resigned to him being there, others seemed to be warning him with their eyes. A young kid, his clothes more modern than most, looked at him with accusation. Dean winked at him as he went up to the bar. The bartender didn't speak.
"Whiskey," Dean said, and he laid a silver dollar on the bar.
The bartender still remained silent, but he poured a shot of whiskey for Dean, who promptly threw it back.
"I heard I could find a game here," Dean announced suddenly. "Who do I talk to about playing?"
"That would be me, stranger," a voice said from the back.
Dean turned toward the back of a bar where a small chandelier hung over a poker table. Sitting at the table was a man with a large black cowboy hat that hid his face in its shadow. Only two bright points of light reflected off his eyes. The man wore a string bowtie and brocaded vest, and a black coat. A gold chain lay across the gambler's stomach and many gold rings flashed on his fingers. A ruby stick pin gleamed like twinkling fire on the coat's lapel.
"I got a thousand dollars," Dean said as he sat down opposite the shadowy man.
"The ante is a hundred dollars and the game is Five Card Draw," The gambler announced.
Dean put a stack of twenties on the table and the gambler deftly dealt out the cards.
Dean studied the cards, and threw some more money on the table and said, "I'll raise you a hundred."
The gambler threw in some gold coins to match Dean's raise.
"I call," came the shadowy voice.
Dean took two cards from his hand and dropped them on the table before saying, "I'll take two cards."
With a deft flick of the wrist, the gambler sent two cards spinning to land right before Dean on the table. Dean thought he could see the flash of a predatory style as the gambler announced, "I'll stand pat."
The gambler hadn't even looked at his cards.
"You're pretty bold," Dean said. "Let's see what you got."
Again there was the flash of a dark smile on the shadowed face of the gambler as he flipped his cards over. A pair of kings looked back up at Dean from the table. Dean swore and threw his cards down on the table, not bothering to turn them up.
"Another hand?" The gambler asked Dean.
"Yeah," Dean replied.
Another hand was dealt and Dean played wild, raising three times before admitting defeat to three eights the gambler showed on the table. The gambler pulled out a gold pocket watch and looked at the time.
"I got time for one more hand," the gambler announced.
"Alright then," Dean replied, his voice angry, "let's stop pussyfooting around. All or nothing, what do you say?"
"If you came to play me, you already know my terms," replied the Gambler, "You bet everything, including your soul and I bet everything I got against you."
"I'll bet everything I got, but you can keep your fancy clothes, your fancy hat, and your fancy jewelry," Dean said to the gambler. "Not my style and I don't want them. You agree?"
"I believe we have reached an accord," the gambler smiled again.
He dealt five cards to Dean who let them sit on the table.
"I'll stand pat," Dean said without touching the cards.
The gambler replied, "I'll stand pat, as well."
Dean flipped over the cards in front of him. He had bet his soul on a pair of deuces. The gambler reached down and began flipping his cards one by one. The Ace of Spades appeared first, and then the King of Spades, the Queen of Spades, then the Jack of spades. Only one card was left unturned and the gambler leaned forward and Dean could see his face for the first time. The gamblers eyes were black and his skin ashen. He wore a long brown moustache and a goatee, both neatly trimmed, but his head was held at an odd angle. The gambler grinned like death as he flipped the last card over, not bothering to look at it. He reached for Dean's soul but the hunter grabbed his wrist.
"You've got nothing, Fast Jack," Dean announced.
The gambler looked confused and then he looked down at his cards on the table. The last card he'd flipped over had been a six of diamonds. The flush had been busted and Dean's pair of deuces was the winning hand.
"Everything you got, but what you are wearing, is mine including the souls you've taken," Dean told him, "and I'm setting them free."
Fast Jack pulled out a nickel-plated Colt and pointed it at Dean. Just then the alarm on Dean's phone began to play Chopin's Funeral March.
"It's 4:38 in the afternoon, Fast Jack. Time for your hanging."
The spirits in the bar grabbed Fast Jack the gambler and dragged him screaming out the back door. When they had gone, the interior of the bar changed. Gone were the 19th Century furnishings and the wooden bar and mirrors. The only thing left was the beat up old table Dean was sitting at and the chairs he and Fast Jack had been sitting in, and the loads of coins and cash sitting on the floor behind Fast Jack's chair. Dean turned to find the young man he'd winked at earlier standing there looking confused.
"Help me gather up the money, Brian," Dean said.
"What did you…."
"Later," Dean said, "let's just get the money and get out of here."
When they walked out of the old saloon, Dean looked back at a building that appeared to have been abandoned for a very long time. The cottonwood tree that had been green and luscious was nothing more than a white skeleton.
When Brian and Dean emerged the blonde from the Qwik Stop flew out of the front door, leaving a patron standing bewildered at the register and she ran across the street to jump into Brian's arms. The rain from the storm fell on them in sheets, but they didn't care. He hugged her as if his life depended on never letting go.
"Hey," Dean said, "pick up the cash you dropped. You two can make out later."
A few minutes later most of the cash was in Baby's back seat except for the bundle Dean gave to Brian.
"As Sam and I promised you," Dean said, "here is enough money to get you and Emmy a new start anywhere you want."
"You played me for a fool," Brian said. "You said that ruby stickpin was magical and it would help me win if I played."
"No, we promised it would help you get your money, and it is magical, it just happens to be cursed. The curse is that it will deny you whatever you want the most and you can only lift the curse if someone else takes it from you willingly, but the catch is, you have to tell them it will bring bad luck."
"So you sent me in there to lose?" Brian demanded from Dean.
"You were going to lose anyway. Fast Jack McCurdy was hung from that old tree after he cheated a bunch of local farmers out of their land at exactly 4:38pm one hot August afternoon when a thunderstorm roiling overhead. Every year, during the dog days of August, when a storm is brewing, Fast Jack appears to gamble. Occasionally, he lets someone win and they leave with a bunch of gold and silver coins and they spread the word around there is a fortune to be made coming here. But he cheats, and he has always cheated. We played the odds, figuring you'd be one he would cheat, and he did, but when did, he took the pin from you and its curse.
"I told him exactly what you told me to say," Brian said. "I told him it hadn't brought me any luck and it wouldn't bring him any luck, either. But I didn't know the ruby was cursed."
"Sure you did," replied Dean. "Do you remember when we were preparing for this and I said exactly what you said to Fast Jack when I handed the ruby to you. That's how I transferred the curse from me to you, and then you passed the curse to Fast Jack.
"You wanted me to lose!" The indignant Brian accused Dean.
"Yes, but remember, all we said to is that you would get the money you wanted to start a life with your girl here. I didn't say you were going to win, you just thought you were. You were double screwed from the start, between Fast Jack cheating and the curse of the ruby. But he took the ruby and the curse. I beat him every hand, that's why I never showed him my cards. I wanted him to think he was winning.
"You used me," Brian said angrily.
"You're damn right we did," Dean said with a hard edge to his voice. "We used you because you were stupid enough to try and play against a spirit, or demon, or whatever Fast Jack was, but now he is cursed and can never win another game, unless he figures out his curse and cons some other poor sucker into taking it. If we hadn't used you, your soul would be stuck in that place forever, but thanks to me, you get to start your new life. Count your blessings."
Dean got into the Impala and drove off leaving the two young lovers behind. His cell phonerang and by the special ring tone he knew it was his brother Sam.
"Hello," he said into the phone.
"How did it go, Dean?"
"No problems," Dean replied, "I got the kid and the rest of the poor souls out and we are flush with cash at the moment. Fast Jack still has the ruby and the curse, which kills two birds for us with the Jack not able to win any more games and the pin lost in limbo. Did you take care of the witch who sold us the ruby?
"I geeked her and I got the rest of her cursed objects. I mixed them into a bucket of cement. When the cement hardens, we can find a deep hole to drop the stuff into it."
"Awesome," Dean replied.