Changes of Fortune

By Dolen Feredir

Disclaimer: I don't own anything associated with Supernatural. I'm also making no money off of this. :-(

Rating: T for some language

Notes: Well, it's pretty much complete now. This is my first attempt at a fairly lighthearted multi-chaptered story and it took a ridiculously long time to write. (I started it in the summer of '06, so it's rather sad and pathetic it took me so long) I've found that it's really hard to write something where there isn't a lot of death and destruction. The urge to put the boys in mortal peril is strong. sigh.

Anyway, enough babbling. Here it is. I hope you like it.

Day One:

"Well that was a waste of time," Dean Winchester muttered as he strode down the steps of the police station, fully intent upon getting into his car and driving as far away from this job as he could.

His younger brother followed, a slight grin gracing his features as he zipped up his jacket against the late-autumn cold.

"You sound disappointed that it turned out to be completely natural," Sam noted with amusement. "Could it be you were actually looking forward to a salt-and-burn?"

Dean glared over his shoulder. "Oh, yeah. We all know how much fun it is to dig up bones when the ground is cold. I'm so disappointed I could cry."

He paused to check out two girls as they walked by, making sure to flash them a flirtatious grin. The girls giggled and whispered together as soon as they thought they were out of earshot.

Dean's mood lifted considerably and he turned back to his brother. "All I'm saying is that we wasted almost two days getting out here because someone couldn't tell the difference between a pissed-off spirit and a bunch of pigeons."

"Don't worry, your reputation isn't in any danger," Sam appeased. "That one bird was terrified when you called it out." He didn't even try to bite back his laughter at the memory of his brother, shotgun in hand, shouting insults and ultimatums into the rafters of the old factory.

Dean grinned back at him. "It worked, didn't it? Little bastards showed themselves and we didn't even have to pull out the salt. We finished that job in record time."

"Getting arrested for trespassing does not count as finishing the job." Sam shook his head. "Next time I tell you I hear someone coming, you should listen to me. I'm getting tired of bailing you out of jail."

"Maybe next time you should hang around and help me out instead of running away like a little girl," Dean smirked.

"I didn't run," Sam protested. "I checked out the noise and by the time I got back they'd arrested you. It's a good thing they didn't catch us both, or we'd probably still be in there. Getting someone out of custody isn't as cheap as it used to be."

"I think you're just mad because that cute cop liked me better than you," Dean retorted, ignoring Sam's statements as the brothers reached the Impala.

"You mean the one that 'accidentally' got ink all over your hands when she was taking your prints? She didn't like you. She called you a pig."

Sam laughed at the look on Dean's face. His brother's response was cut short as the door behind Sam opened and a short man burst out of the store. He was streaming colourful curses in his wake.

Gesticulating wildly, the man muttered to himself before breaking off into another flow of swear words. He cut his tirade short as he caught sight of the two men staring at him.

With a snort, he approached Sam and leaned closer as if he were about to impart a great secret. Sam stepped back. The man was well-dressed, but that didn't mean he wasn't nuts. Dean moved quickly from the driver's side of the Impala, ready to intercept the man if it became necessary.

The man stared at Sam with an intense expression. "That guy in there," he gestured behind him to the store, "is a con."

Barely glancing at Dean, the stranger continued. "Antique dealer, my ass. Stupid thing's probably fool's gold." He shoved something into Sam's hand and the younger Winchester held onto it instinctively.

"You keep it," the man muttered. "More trouble than it's worth. I don't need that junk." With that, the man turned and strode down the sidewalk. Sam could have sworn he heard the man whistling as he rounded the corner out of sight.

"What was all that about?" Sam wondered aloud. He glanced at Dean, but his brother's attention was fixed onto Sam's hand.

"Dude, what did he give you?" Dean reached for the object, but Sam pulled his hand back.

"It's a gold pocket watch," he replied in surprise.

"Real gold or fake like looney-toons was saying?" Dean questioned, his interest already piqued.

Sam shrugged. "I have no idea." He turned to glance at the antique store, but the sign in the window had been turned to 'closed.' The slight bend in the curtain showed that someone had been watching the exchange outside, but no one was there now.

"You hungry?" Dean's attention switched to food, though Sam knew that in his head Dean was already spending the money that could be made from the watch.

"Maybe we could check out that haunted emu farm. It's only a few hours from here." The elder Winchester continued as he walked back to the driver's side of the car, not noticing or not caring that Sam wasn't listening.

With a final glance at the store window, Sam shoved the watch into his pocket and got into the car.