A/N: This one shot came from a Skype conversation last night with Tara aka Lovinjackson. I've been craving some hurt and well, what better a way to spend what should have been my Supernatural Friday, than writing the boys? Now, I'd just like to point out that if there is any terminology in Solitaire? I don't know it, so forgive me. I just now how much the game frustrates me...

Dedicated to Tara for always being there when I need her. And to my hubby, Phill. Love you, babe!

A/N#2: Title comes from Neil Sedaka's song - Solitaire.

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Bradsure, Connecticut.

Queen of Diamonds on the King of Spades…

Sam had told Dean. He'd freaking told him not to underestimate the witch they were hunting. But did Dean listen? Of course not…because that would have been the smart thing.

Ace of Diamonds to the top, followed by the two of Diamonds. More cards flipped over, revealed their faces. Ace of Spades to the top, followed by the two of Spades…

Not that Dean wasn't smart. Dean was sharp as a tack on a lot of things…except when to shut his mouth and not antagonise the freaking witch.

Two hours earlier…..

"A Technowitch? What the hell is that anyway? It sounds like that Jenny Calender chick from that Buffy show, dude…although she was pretty hot."

"What? You're watching Buffy now?"

"So I've caught an rerun here or there…it's not like I'm reading Twilight, Sam!" Dean shuddered at the thought of sparkly vampires. Only hormonal teenage girls could buy that crap…and if they ever ran into a real Edward? They'd be too busy peeing themselves to ever wonder if the guy would freaking sparkle like Tinkerbell in the sunlight. "How the hell do you kill someone through an email, anyway?"

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It had been a valid question, really. All they had known was what Bobby had told them. That a dozen people had died in this town of heart attacks while sitting at their computers. Slumped over the keyboard, wizened and aged despite the fact that some of them had only been in their teens. There had been nothing to link them together…except for the fact they had all crossed paths with the same email. An email that asked the reader to speak it out loud, invoking the archaic enchantment written in it.

Sam had finally tracked the email back to the same small computer shop in Bradsure. All they'd needed to do, was take down the witch. And they'd be back on the road in time to be at Bobby's for Thanksgiving.

At least, that had been the plan…but when you were a Winchester? Plans never went, well…to plan.

Three of Spades joins the Two Of Spades up top…then the Four of Spades…

Sweat was beaded on Sam's brow, his face carved in the stony façade of pure concentration as his hand hovered over the thumb pad, looking for the next card to move. Trying not to think about how the witch had been expecting them…about how easily she had dropped them with a incantation spat from her lips. Well, maybe not dropped. Sam had been thrown across the room into a set of metal shelves full of computer parts. The impact had driven the air from his lungs, the world fading out as he watched Dean fall to his knees, clutching his stomach and crying out in pain.

Pain that was still filling Sam's mind right now as he heard Dean's laboured breathing and thick, hacking cough. He had awoken to find himself handcuffed, hand and feet to a chair…save for one hand. That had been left free so he could operate a laptop and play Solitaire. Freaking Solitaire…Sam had wondered at first if he had suffered a concussion from the collision with the shelving unit, but no, the grunts and gasps of agony on the other side of the room had quickly shown Sam that this was very real.

"Sam…d-don't…screw u..uh..up a-again." Dean was trembling, his lips painted scarlet as blood dripped with each choked word. His insides were on fire with what felt like dozens of invisible knives sliding and slicing through him. Renting open flesh and catching on bone as he tried to hold in the screams that wanted to free themselves from his throat. The bitch was watching them both, watching…waiting for Sam to screw up the card game yet again. Forcing himself up onto his knees and elbows as another choking cough shook him, Dean lifted his head and sneered through bloody lips at the witch. "I'm gonna end you, Sabrina…you know that, don't you? I'm gonna freaking toast your ass for this.."

"Shut up, Dean!" Sam snapped, placing more cards, watching as more flipped over on the screen before him. Dean was trying to distract the witch, make her make a mistake. But the game was already in motion, the spell had been cast. Sam had to get this game out. No more mistakes. Dean couldn't afford for Sam to make any mistakes.

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Half an hour earlier….

"You think I didn't know who you were? I was aware of you the moment you boys hit town. The infamous Winchester brothers…the ones who started the Apocalypse."

"Great, it's another Becky…" Dean groaned from within the cage he had woken up in. Nothing like waking up, feeling like Hansel to make your day. Dean was just grateful he couldn't see an oven anywhere, although he would have happily pushed this bitch inside one. "Sorry, lady…we've already done the fan convention thing. Not looking to do another…"

"What are you going to do with us?" Sam tested the strength of the chair he was cuffed to. Nothing. No give at all. Maybe if he could find something to pick the cuff with? But why had she left one hand free? And what was with the laptop in front of him?

"I heard about you beating Patrick at poker, Sam. Saved your brother's life? Must have been hard to stay so calm, keeping your 'Poker face' intact, not knowing what was happening to him?" The witch was smiling as she spoke. "But what if you could see? What if you knew every mistake, was killing Dean a little more? Do you think you could stay cool and focused then?"

Sam's heart kicked up a step, going from a canter to a gallop as he looked over towards Dean. "Look…we'll leave. Okay?"

"The hell we will!" Dean growled. He wasn't letting some skanky Bewitched wannbe run him and Sam out of town.

"Dean, shut up!" Sam snarled, before he turned back to the witch, trying to reason with her. "Just let my brother out of the cage and I promise we'll leave you alone." The witch knew them alright and she knew exactly what Sam's biggest weakness was. He couldn't do it again. He couldn't watch Dean die in front of him. It had broken Sam inside to bury his brother and the shards still stabbed and cut him up. A wound he would never heal from ever.

"It's too late for that, Sam. Even if you kept your promise? You'd send someone after me. So we're going to play a little game of Solitaire. You versus the computer. No chance of bluffing. Just you and the cards. Win $500? And I'll let you and your brother live. But every game you lose? Dean loses too…"

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No. No, not again. Sam scanned the cards before him, searching for one card, just one card he could place, one more card he could pull out to free up another. But there was nothing left, no moves to make. He'd screwed up again and the only option he had? Was to start a fresh game. His hand shook badly as it hovered over the thumb pad, glancing over again at Dean. His heart was pounding in his ears, his mouth dry, his palms sweaty. Another loss. Sam had lost more money than he had won and the pool of blood that Dean was coughing up was growing with every mistake.

His brother was dying only a few feet from him and Sam was trying so very hard not to unravel under the pressure.

Closing his eyes for a moment, Sam felt a tear slide down his cheek as he opened his eyes again and hit the reset button for the game.

"Nrrrgghhhh! Sam!!" Dean couldn't stop himself from crying out, tasting thick coppery blood rushing up his throat and spilling to the floor as he coughed. It was like the Hellhounds were back, their claws tearing and clawing at his intestines, his stomach. Shredding Dean into pieces as the pain engulfed him and pulled him under again until there was nothing but blood and agony. He writhed on the floor, trying to curl up in a ball as if that would block out the sensation of being torn open from the inside out. "Sammy…please…"

The cards blurred in front of Sam as desperate tears flooded his eyes. Nearby he could hear the witch laughing at him and it lit a fire of rage within Sam. His brother was choking to death on his own blood and Sam was helpless to stop it. He could feel the demon blood in his veins singing out to him, telling him to embrace the darkness he had tried to shun for months now, desperate not to make that mistake again.

But the blood wasn't strong enough anymore and Sam wasn't looking to dose up again. He would save Dean, only to lose him again to the mistrust he had bred with Ruby.

So in one last, desperate plea - Sam turned to one thing left he had. Something that had always comforted him while growing up, something that he felt he had no right to do anymore. Sam prayed for someone to save his brother.

Cards flipped over, Sam trying to make himself concentrate on the game at hand and not think about Dean. He couldn't block out the wet gasps, the horrid rattle of breath in his brothers chest. Glancing up again, Sam saw how pale Dean was, how bright the blood spattered over the floor and down his brother's chin was in contrast.

Dean lifted his head, his pain riddled green eyes locking with Sam's as he forced enough breath from his lungs to speak. "I…it's…h'okay…Sammy…"

No. It wasn't okay. Not by a long shot. Sam was killing his brother because of a stupid card game that he had never liked playing. His lip trembled briefly as Sam tried to hold back the hot tears clinging to his eyelashes. "Don't, Dean. Don't you give up. Please…Please!"

Another mistake…the deck was dead again. Another restart. Sam closed his eyes, biting his lip to hold back a sob as he heard Dean cry out again from the cage.

A high pitched shriek filled the room as Sam's eyes flew open in shock. He looked up to see the witch howling in agony, clutching at a blade that had seemingly erupted from her chest. Blood was saturating the blouse she was wearing, the witch's eyes rolling back in her head as her face sagged. Sliding forward off the blade, she crumpled to the floor, revealing Castiel standing behind her.

His face was set with that familiar look of intensity that Sam had come to expect from the angel. "Cas! Cas, please, help Dean! Get him out of here!"

"What about you?" Castiel asked, already moving towards the cage Dean was locked in. The older Winchester was collapsed in a pool of his own blood, barely moving. But there was movement.

"Don't worry about me! Just save Dean!" Sam pleaded. He watched Castiel reach out towards Dean, laying his hand on his arm before they both vanished a moment later.

There was nothing but silence in the room now. Sam looked at the witch lying in a crumpled heap on the floor. His gaze slipped sideways to the cage and the pool of blood that still seemed to taunt him. Reaching out with his one free hand, Sam grabbed the top of the laptop and flung it off the table, smirking in dark satisfaction at the sound of it shattering as it hit the floor.

Several heartbeats passed, sounding heavy and pounding in Sam's ears, before the tears began to fall again. His shoulders shook quietly this time and Sam gave himself over to his emotions.

It had been too damn close.

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Four Days Later….Bobby's House. South Dakota.

"You sure you should be drinking that beer, boy?" Bobby looked up towards Dean as he continued carving the turkey before him. It had been a while since Bobby had bothered to go to the trouble of Thanksgiving. But this year he was willing to make an exception.

"I'm fine, Bobby. Whatever that freaking witch cast on me? It didn't hang around long after Cas smoked her ass." Dean shrugged off the concern, then frowned slightly. "That sounded a little dirtier than it did in my head…"

Sam snorted from his side of the table as he cracked his own beer and sat down. "Why am I not surprised with that mind of yours, dude."

"Knock it off, you two chuckleheads." Bobby growled with no fire in his tone. Dean and Sam had shown up two days before, looking worn around the edges - a look he had seen in them all too often these days. The Apocalypse bearing down on them all was hardly something to set the mood for Thanksgiving, but between those boys? Every damn day they were both breathing was something to be thankful for. "Alright…load up your plates and save some room for dessert."

Dean began stacking his plate like it was his last meal, ignoring the grin that passed between Bobby and Sam at his show of appetite. What did they expect when it was all home cooked and smelt so good?

"Is there a spare seat at the table?" Castiel had appeared and was standing in the doorway to the dining area, looking a little awkward at the thought he might be disturbing them.

"You've started eating, Cas? How much food does an angel need to pack away, anyway?" Dean piped up as he finally sat down with his heavily laden plate.

"I do not need to eat. However, I would like to partake of your meal with you. Is it not tradition to share this day with family?" Castiel enquired.

Sam and Dean shared a surprised look before Sam nodded to Castiel. "Uhhh, yeah, that's right."

"Then I would like to share this day with you both. I am…distanced…from my brothers. You are family now." Castiel stated as he moved forward and sat down. He gave a small curt nod to Bobby in gratitude as he was handed a plate of turkey, mashed potato and greens. "Thank you."

"Hey, Cas…I meant to ask you before at the hospital. How'd you know where to find us?" Sam asked as he poured gravy over his food before handing the jug to Dean. " I mean, I'll admit I was praying pretty damn hard towards the end…but I thought you said we're off the angel radar, even to you?"

"Yes, that's correct. I was following the co-ordinates that you texted me."

"Text? Cas, I didn't send you a text…" Sam replied, puzzled.

"Wait…you got a text? Saying where to find us?" Dean leaned forward, intrigued. The pieces he was putting together in his head had his heart beating faster. "If we didn't send that text? Who did?"

Castiel seemed to contemplate that for a moment, before his eyes seemed to suddenly brighten and the tiniest beginning of a smile began to show on his lips. Maybe his search for God wasn't in vain after all? His Father was out there…and Castiel perhaps had proof now. He would begin searching again as soon as this meal was over.

Dean, Sam and Bobby all shared another look between them at Castiel's silence.

"Cas? Care to share with the rest of us?" Dean asked him.

Castiel took a mouthful of turkey first, savouring the taste, the complexities of the textures and flavours. His blue eyes were bright and almost seemed to burn through Sam and Dean as he looked at each of them in turn. "The answer will be revealed in time. But for now…if I may offer something for us all to be thankful for tonight? We are not as alone in this fight as we once thought… and I have faith that we will win."

There was a stunned silence for a moment, before Dean lifted his beer and grinned at Sam. "Hell, I'll drink to that."

Sam lifted his own beer in toast. Bobby took another beer out of the six pack on the table and handed it to Castiel. "I think we can all drink to that."

Castiel opened the beer and followed suit with the rest of the table, lifting his beer in a hesitant toast, quietly murmuring "Amen" before he took a drink with the people he called family.

Sam watched his brother as he ate - maybe it should have been called inhaling his food, not eating - and knew that he was thankful for another day with Dean. Whatever lay ahead of them? He was facing it side by side with Dean…exactly where he was always meant to be.