A POCKET FULL OF BULLETS

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

WITH A POCKET FULL OF BULLETS

PART ONE

Vive ut Vivas~ Live So You May Live

Tarnished silver reflected a rainbow on the countertop as Harry eyed the bullet.

'We have not lost this artifact, but it's return is of great importance. When it's found you are to immediately return to us fore if you hold onto it not only will your life be void but the world…'

The bullets reflection on the countertop winked innocently at the sunlight and he sighed gently. How was he to find this bullets 'master' and get it safely back to Gringotts? Wasn't he suppose to be finding the Horcrux's so Voldemort could finally be dealt with? For not the first time in his short existence Harry wondered how his life got so fucked up.

'Oh yeah it happened right around when Hagrid told me; you're a wizard Harry.' he thought sarcastically.

He really wished Hermione was here right now because if that witch didn't know what to do then nothing could be done. Okay, perhaps, he was exaggerating the truth but eight times out of ten if Hermione couldn't find something out there was no way anyone else knew. Then he remembered that for one thing he wasn't suppose to be outside of Private Drive nor was he suppose to be within the wizarding world. Anyone else would have called him a fool but when one is summoned from Gringotts there's no way around not coming, literally.

Narrowing his eyes on the bullet he thought about what he knew. He knew it was pure silver, made around the 1830's for a non-magical human to help protect the muggles and had been lost soon after it's creation. No matter how the goblins tried to deny it Harry knew they lost the creation to muggle hunters.

Ever wondered who caught the bad guys once the Aurors and Unspeakables couldn't? Well this is where the Hunters stepped in, a special breed of muggle that hunted the paranormal to keep the line between earth and what they thought to be heaven and hell safe. Usually this meant killing whatever they came across but if unspeakable couldn't round up the target it was most likely the individual in question had already succumbed to an intense level of insanity. On occasion there were a number of rouge vampire and werewolves that feasted upon the muggles and if they were stupid enough to let a muggle hunter find them then they were better off dead.

"Anything for you hun? Boss won't let you sit here if you don't order," A woman with a yellow mile high bee hive, smacking on pink bubble gum and blowing bubbles said. She tilted her head back in the direction of a stern looking woman who had one eye on taking orders and the other on them.

"Er…whatever the special is, I'll take that an a red fizzy." Harry said.

"Alright," she blew and popped a bubble, "a chicken fried steak and taters on brown gravy with a…hey kid what's a fizzy?"

Harry blinked, oh yeah he was in America now. "I meant a soda,"

"Oh a red dope, okay that'll be 5.97, want a side order of veggies or something?" she asked, smacking her gum.

"Umm, sure, yeah anything will do."

"Alright spinach!" she cheered as she turned to walk off.

Harry blinked once before he was calling her back. "Wait a minute, a red dope an spinach…can I just get some peas?"

The waitress laughed before yelling out, "One mooing chicken in the mud, green pee and one red dope!" Turning back to him she smirked and said, "Well yeah, a red dope like in coke a cola! I call coke dope so whenever you want one I can yell it," It seemed to make perfect sense to the woman and Harry just smiled at her in a awkward manner before passing the bills on the counter to pay.

The red dope was good and food was even better. Stomach full an warm Harry leaned back in his booth as he once again locked eyes on the bullet. What secretes do you hide?

Harry sighed, he knew he couldn't sit here all day just starring at this bullet. For one thing the diner manager was looking at him funny again and for another he was in a new city an needed a place to crash for the night.

He also needed to do some research and find out about these suppose hunters. The goblins told him that they had lost contact with the group around the late 1920's, right around when the depression was just starting in the states. The goblins neglected to tell him if there were any European hunters, all they seemed worried about was the states since this was the last known place of the Colt.

The gun had a name and it was very simple to remember; Colt.

Thirteen bullets had been crafted in spell induced goblin silver and just a touch of fey wing dust in the bullets so they would be 'everlasting'. Harry held tightly to one of them, lucky number seven. Seven seemed to be a huge factor in his life thus far. He couldn't help but think about the prophecy, the number of horcruxes Voldemort made and his supposed final seventh year at school; which more than likely he would not attend.

Slipping the bullet back into his jean pocket he called out, "Hey lady know a spot where I can get some shut eye?" before the door chime went off and caught his attention.

Sam fucking hated Missouri. Okay, perhaps he didn't say or think 'fucking' but he was damn near close to it. It wasn't so much the people, the landscape… hell not even being cooped up in the car the whole time was the worst part of Missouri. The worst part of this place was the memories the state brought back.

He was seven and Dean was almost eleven. Their father had brought them out for a 'camping' trip with their uncle Bobby. To make a long story really short; their father was insane and werewolves really did die by silver.

"Yo Sammy, you need to snap out of it. We almost to Witchy Momma house and she's bust a cap in my ass if you're acting all fucking depressed an shit," Dean said then added, "Like a girl,"

"Fuck you," Sam swore an pouted, although if asked he would passionately deny such a fact.

"Ooh, ouch! Someone must be cranky?" Dean cooed.

Sometimes he really just wanted to smack the shit out of his brother.

"Dean," Sam warned, grinding his teeth ever so loudly to hear.

"Alright, alright you princess just; when we get there don't mope around. I don't feel like getting my ass kicked."

Sam didn't say anything but he didn't need to because they both knew as soon as he walked through those doors to Witchy Momma's he'd have a mega watt smile on his face. Witchy Momma sat right outside of Missouri on the Kentucky state side, but the city of Benton still claimed half the restaurant as part of their township.

It was a simple apple pie, mom and pop shop kind of diner you expected to find out in the middle of bum fucked Egypt. The lady manager who owned the joint was known as Witchy since her mother practiced voodoo an it just sorta stuck to her and the joint was called Momma's and Pappa's. Best damn pies north of the Mississippi and the best chicken fried steak a god could even ask for.

Dean sometimes wondered if Cas ever cook in heaven, then sometimes Dean wondered why in the hell Cas would even need to eat! All things aside the brothers dubbed the place Witchy Momma's and always made it a point to head out east while in Missouri so they could stop by.

But the best thing about Witchy's was the pool table.

"Dean, you are not gonna hustle some poor farmer you hear me?" Sam finally said.

"Yeah, yeah sure," he replied as he turned up his music; Blue Oyster Cult's Take Me Away.

END 1: TBC