''HOUSE OF CARDS''

Disclaimer: I'd only own 'em if I kidnapped 'em - darn! looks like I'm fresh out of cages... :) Fic set after AHBL1&2, and rated for turnin the air blue. Some idea's loosely based on certain Romany beliefs, so no offense intended - its all just fiction, folks.

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Southern Wyoming

Dean tossed the spent colt, catching Sam's eye as he slammed the trunk shut "We got work to do."

Arrochar, Scotland

"I see great change ahead of you, at home or even a move in job perhaps ..."

Amused, she huffed under her breath ... such bullshit ... proffering a smirk when their wrinkled old host glared venomously in her direction. Pete - to her disgust - was lapping this up. Expression open, pondering over each nonsensical bland little fishing statement, nodding away emphatically now and again as she poured over her glass orb. Christ ... she rolled her eyes, slouching further down in her seat and sighing loudly, earning her yet another scowl.

Languidly, she glanced around the worn little tent, taking in the bizarre haphazard array of no-doubt utterly pointless bargin-bin basement crap, the assorted bric-a-brac which cluttered the place. A tattered yellowing banner proclaiming the old romani to be 'attuned to the spirits, beings from worlds beyond' caught her eye, and she smothered a laugh - wonder what Mulder would have to say about that ...

"Glad to see your finding my company so entertaining"

Starting 'round at the voice, she met the withered old woman's piercing gaze. "Huh? No, look - sorry, I mean no offense, really - its just ..." she shrugged letting the sentence die off in the air. Pete was sitting back in his chair, failing miserably to keep the self-satisfied smug look off his face.

"Not a believer?"

No shit, sherlock ... Dryly, easier than explaining, she answered "You could say that "

The old woman nodded into herself, knowingly, and she could see the beginnings of a lecture starting up. Inwardly, she groaned. ... Ohh fucking hell ...

Just as she was about to cut her losses, simply get up and leave - mate or no mate, Pete could sit here and swing for all she cared - he stood up next to her, shaking the old gypsy's hand and thanking her profusely.

Silently, she thanked whatever deity had been listening and, seeing her que to leave, grabbed her bike helmet from under her seat practically lunging for the exit ... finally...

"Woah, hold yer horses" Pete stalled her getaway, wrapping his fingers firmly around her shoulders, stepping around infront of her. The smug look, she noted, was still firmly fixed in place. Physically turning her around, he leaned in breezily and with a gentle yet determined push shoved her back towards her seat "Your turn"

"NO WAY! Wait ! I ..." she started, horrified as he ducked out the tent with a wink, left facing nothing but canvas as his sing-song voice carried back to her "I've already paid ... And remember! you promised! "

This time, she did groan. Next time she needed to make a gorram apology, she set some damn ground rules for payment.

The old woman cleared her throat, and she winced. Im going to kill him when I catch him ... fucking git ...

Turning, she held her hands up in what she hoped was a placating gesture "Look, No offense, honest, but this isnt really my thing, y'know ..."

"Sit"

"Plus, Im not entirely comfortable with this, so ... " she thumbed over her shoulder, about to back out the door, when the old romani looked up from her tidying, her face stern, eyes glittering dangerously.

"Money has already crossed my palm. The deal is done. Now, SIT "

Somehow, she found herself back in the chair without ever really considering how that actually happened - the tone of the womans voice scoring like a lash, reminding her of that sole same talent, she mused, her father - and scarce few notable others she'd crossed swords with - possessed. damn.The old woman muttered under her breath, shuffling around, and searching amongst the assorted junk before carrying a small wooden box back over to the freshly cleared table and placing it down with a thump.

Watching her warily, the wrinkled old woman set about retrieving several small items from inside. A solid carved wooden bowl she filled with a little water and centered it between them, muttering: proceeding then to place battered stubs of coloured candle on either side of them, she hesitated then, giving a quick sidelong glance, before reaching inside the box quickly for what looked like a small brown medicinal bottle with a dropper for a lid, muttering all the while. Lastly and with more ease, the withered old crone placed a deck of well-worn shuffled cards on the table, resumed her seat, and began to light the candles with a guttering match.

The silence in the little tent was deafening, and it made her skin crawl.

Slowly, conversationally, the old woman began to speak "So, gadje ... have you ever spoken with a drabardi such as I before? in matters such as advising or drabarimos? Hmm?"

Seeing the look of confusion, the gypsy's voice dropped and she deadpanned " Fortune, child - have you ever had your future foretold? "

"No"

The drabardi cracked a lopsided grin "then, how do you know? how can you disbelieve something you've never even experienced? Hmm ?"

Recieving no answer other than an icy stare the woman clucked her tongue, adding "foolishness..." she lifted a candle, passed it over the bowl of water once, twice, before dripping some of the molten black wax onto the water's surface and placing the candle down. With the barest edge of her fingers, she pushed the deck of cards towards her "Now, cut those"

"No way"

"Cut the deck"

"Not godamn likely"

The drabardi grew angry, reaching over far more swiftly and with more force than she would have given her credit for - grabbing her nearest hand and knocking the deck in half with it; even as she wrenched it back with a growl of annoyance. Seemingly satisfied, the withered old gypsy ignored her; laid out seven cards from the top of the fresh cut, all face down in the shape of a cross on the velvet table cover, the seventh and final card sat to the base and side of her design before carefully returning the rest to the box. Jaw clenched, she drummed her fingers on the edge of her seat, impatient more than ever 'to just get it the fuck over with'

"Now" the gypsy fixed her dark eyes on her, intent, before reaching over the bowl to tap the center card with one wizened curled finger "This, this is your past " moved to the left, indicating "this, the problems your faced" moved on then to the right, adding "and this, this was your solution"

Returning to the top of the cross deign, she tapped the card placed there "This is the present" she moved down vertically, to the card directly below the center "and here is the problems you face, and this " she indicated the bottom card of the design "this is the solution"

"The last" she waved at the card outwith the pattern, closest to her "represents your future"

Yeah, right ...

"Now, place your hands palms up, on either side of the cards, and we'll begin your reading, gadje "

Reluctantly, she did as she was told, sighing almost miserably, holding onto the thoughts of 'I can get through this ... c'mon, just ten minutes, an it'll be over with ..."

The gypsy settled herself, rubbed her hands together and stretching out her fingers, before hunching herself expectantly over the first card. Flipping it over with a long painted enamel-chipped nail, she began to speak in her rough, grating lilt.

"Your past ... ahh, is the Hanged Man. He represents waiting, self-sacrifice ... it suggests a life overturned and in suspension. Not, p'raps as it should have been?"

Dark eyes reflected the light, as she flipped the next card "Problems in times past - is The Chariot, inverted ... it portrays Conquest, a battle; the steeds harnessed to the chariot represent powerful forces at your command, yet this was a battle which you were in danger of losing through a lack of control ... reckless, fighting fire with fire even as flames took hold ... "

Flick

"Now, the solution - the path you chose out of your problems ... " an eyebrow rose as the faded picture on the card met the light, her voice taking on a tone of increduality "...was Death..."

She cleared her throat, looking uncomfortable "Death follows the Hanged Man, for it is the threshold he must pass before he can journey through the Underworld, and be reborn. It shows, you became caught in the unescapable, and therefore had nought left but to experience the ending of a cycle, the elimination of old patterns; to face a transition into a new state, perhaps what I imagine would best seem to show for you, a psychological transformation ... does this mean anything to you ? "

The Gypsy didnt wait for her answer, brow furrowed.

Flick

Yeesh ... dont break out the happy pills on my account ... maybe she's worried I'm gonna ask for the money back ...

"Bringing you forth to your present, the here and now ... is Nine of Swords, inverted. The card of the martyr, it shows a new life borne of suffering - this way, it means for you distrust, suspicion, despair, misery or malice. Y'see here, gadje? " she tapped the card "it shows a figure on a bridge, symbolizing your being between worlds of dreaming and reality, or also of life and death ... "

By now, the withered drabardi was looking troubled, glaring at her darkly from under heavy brows. Unwittingly, she started fidgeting, lifting her right hand away from the tabletop, twirling one of her silver pendants between her finger and thumb. The old cow was getting under her skin.

"The problems you face now... " Flick "... the Five of Cups - five is all about loss, both tangible and/or intangible. It stands as a clear warning - the more we struggle to hold on to what is gone, the more we suffer..."

Her voice trailed off into a whisper, and she simply looked at the card silently. For one so olive-skinned, she'd turned ashen. Without meeting her eyes, she indicated towards her with one painted claw, wrist tinkling with trinkets.

"Raise your hand"

Obediently, she lifted her left hand away from the cards, palm up, scooting forward in her chair and balancing her elbow on the tables edge.

The drabardi slid the bowl of water much closer to herself, lifted the little glass dropper from inside the dusty brown bottle, filled with clear liquid. Upon seeing her questioning look and rapidly closing palm she reassured "It's just water, child, nothing more " Grasping her fingers ends with ease and emptying the dropper's contents into the center of her cupped palm before she could complain, she bade her keep her hand aloft as she finished the reading.

Great, im sitting here like a godammed fool holding a handful of god-knows-only-what. Perfect. Just bloody perfect... Pete's in SO much trouble when I catch him. Only two cards left, thank god. Talk about hearing some depressing shit ... honestly ...

"Now, to the solution to the problems that face us now..." the change in teminology didnt pass her unnoticed, nor did the drabardi's abrupt drop in tone as she continued to speak "...the way out is Justice."

She cleared her throat "The Justice card reminds us that we are imperfect. When this card appears, it asks us to identify and indeed claim our mistakes ... and to perhaps apologize, beg for forgiveness "

There was an uncomfortable pause; then the drabardi snapped "Are you recognising any of this ?" with that whiplash tone.

Leave the skin, please

"Truthfully? no. But then again, I didnt expect to." She gave a short laugh "Perhaps, its not my destiny you're reading drabardi, after all, you touched the cards too - I didnt - well not willingly, anyway "

"Cristo" she mumbled, looking up sharply.

"What?" amused, looking straight at her, cocking her head to the side, thinking did she just say 'cristo' at me ? surely not ...

"Huh, nothing ..." uncomfortably shifting, the gypsy woman continued, in a hurry now for her to be gone from her tent "Now, see here, to the final card in your drabarimos" she turned the other cards back over, pushing them aside, before tapping the back of the seventh and last concealed card, pushing it forward into view, across the worn velvet coverlet until the card lay between them

"This should give you guidance, a glimpse into what is yet to come ... the future is always in motion, but this should show the way" she turned the card, peering intently at her to gauge her reaction, rather than look down.

FLICK

Pointing at the card - "Do you do refunds ?"

The joke fell on deaf ears. The drabardi was looking down, horrorified, at the plain white unadorned card. Mouth agape, her head snapped back up; just as she went to say something funny to try and diffuse the situation, she realised the old woman's aghast eyes were riveted on her palm.

The clear water had turned a deep azure blue, like luminous spilt ink. Stunned, she went to look closer at the gleaming swirling phosphorescent liquid, when she was abruptly soaked

" WHAT the FUCK ?!? Are youfuckingnuts ???"

The old gypsy woman had flung the contents of the wooden bowl over her as she hastily sprung away from the table, knocking her chair sideways and spilling the box of cards all over the floor. She was yelling, cursing, pointing at her and yelling "tsinivari! tsinivari!" at the top of her lungs. Abruptly, the canvas covering was thrust aside and a burly dark young guy ran in. Immediately, the old woman was behind him, babbling away incoherrantly in some language foreign to her and gesturing wildly in her direction.

Thoroughly pissed now and already on her feet, she shook off the water, wax and weird bluish liquid; snatching up her helmet and snarling at the guy now squaring up to her, as if he was expecting her to attack

"She's seven shades worth of crazy - in future, you should think about keeping the senile old bitch on a fucking leash! "

So when he lashed out immediately, catching her on the shoulder and swinging open her jacket; she was more than ready to feign left, follow through with a punch to his jaw of her own. He went down slightly, seeing stars. Getting back up, the old gypsy grabbed him, stalling his movement.

The tarot cards on the floor, lying about their feet, were blank.

"Yeah, neat cover up, lady - but believe me, you can go shove your parlour tricks ..." Frozen, they both stared at her. Or more specifically, stared at her throat. Her silver wolf's head pendant shone dully in the low light, and she lifted it, tucking it away in her shirt. The drabardi lifted one trembling finger, pointing at her

"muló"

"You know what? Funnily enough, I've no idea what muló means, but fuck you too " she spun on her heel, and stormed out of the tent into the night, even as their raised voices dogged her footsteps

"MUL'O !!!"

all reviews welcome - as always :) language translations come later (wait n' see...)