Disclaimer: Hey, look! A Magic 8 Ball! *shake* Nope, I still don't own Supernatural.


Phump. At the sound of the pump disengaging, Sam glanced up, the screen stating that his tank was now full. The price of filling his Dodge Charger this time amounted to $66.60. "666," he thought, laughing. The memory of Gabe's reaction to that number came to the foreground of his thoughts.

"666?" The man jumped up, seemingly shocked at the number to Sam's confusion. "Sammy, that number's evil; it's the number of the beast!"

"Why do you know that?" Really, Sam shouldn't be surprised by Gabe's randomness anymore, but where had that come from? He closed his book and stared at his roommate, his query shown on his face. "I mean, I know that because of my world religions class, but why do you?"

Gabe scoffed, rolling his eyes. "What, you thought with names like Gabriel, Castiel, Michael and Raphael that we were pagan? Please, my family is really religious. Let's just leave it at that."

"Castiel? I don't remember seeing that in any Bible." The brunette shifted his legs, one having begun to go numb. His schoolwork lay forgotten on the table. It was a wonder he managed to accomplish anything living with a man who re-invented the term distraction.

"Castiel is the angel of Thursday." The 'duh' was evident in his voice. Snatching a Twix from his bag, - seriously, where did Gabriel get all his candy? More importantly, how did he afford it? - he shrugged. "Coincidentally, my baby bro -well technically my cousin, but that's a story for another time- actually was born on a Thursday. Usually, we just call him Cas or Cassie, though; Castiel is such a mouth full." He shot his patented trickster grin at Sam, complete with evil chuckle. "Plus, he hates it."

Sam was jolted from the memory by a chime from his phone. He glanced down, one-handedly flipping it open, and read the new message. "Don't forget my caffeine fix :)" Like Sam could actually forget to buy the pop and continue to live with Gabe. As much of a clown as Gabriel Singer appeared, the man could hold a grudge. And he was creative. Not a good combination, as many of the college's jocks could and would attest to. Especially Gordon, who still flinched whenever anyone mentioned Jell-O. When he was in a foul mood, short stature or not, people, professors included, stayed out of Gabe's vindictive sight, lest they become the trickster's next target.

Sam entered the sparsely populated gas station, scanning the aisles for the pop section. He passed several preteen girls gossiping over the newest celebrity love affair and went straight for the Mt. Dew. Ugh, how could Gabe drink this? It was almost pure sugar. Stuffing one case under his arm, he grabbed a second. Knowing his friend, he would easily go through two cases over opening weekend. Fishing his wallet from his back pocket with his free hand, the brunette approached the counter. "Hey," he checked the cashier's nametag, "Mark. The gas at pump two and this pop."

As Mark added up his total, the bell above the door chimed, signaling another customer's entrance. Sam wouldn't have thought anything of it if one of the girls hadn't shrieked. His eyes darted to the mirror attached to the countertop sunglasses display. Six feet behind Sam, the newly entered man had a cliché, black ski mask covering his face and a gun clutched in his hand. He waved the gun towards the cluster of terrified adolescents and demanded the cashier hand over all the money in his till. When the man turned to observe the rest of the store, moving the gun from the girls, Sam acted. Thank God for his father's insistence on knowing self-defense.

He quickly crouched and swung his leg out, catching the other man's. Before the supposed thief could fall completely and risk having the gun go off, Sam snatched the weapon from his grip. A swift punch to the man's head, and he was unconscious. The normally, gentle giant stood from his crouch, shaking out his hand. Sirens were getting increasingly louder.

"Watch out!" At the warning, Sam's head whipped up in time to see a second armed man jerk from the recoil of his handgun. A second later, pain lanced through Sam's abdomen. His eyes lowered to see crimson spreading across his navy button-up. He stumbled and was gently lowered himself to the floor. Distantly, he wondered how someone managed to control his large form. Sam tried to focus on the person supporting his weight, but he couldn't. Dizziness caused the store to transform into a mix of colorful blobs.

Slowly, his awareness of the burning in his side dimmed.

"Hey, stay with me, son. You'll be all right. Heroes have to live." Sam didn't recognized the voice, but the tone reminded him of his dad's the time he had fallen out of the oak in their backyard and broken his arm: urgency and badly concealed fear. "Stay awake, kid."

He tried to answer the voice, but his tongue wouldn't work. Actually, nothing seemed to be functioning properly. The ever-present elevator music of the gas station was muffled, and shadows encroached upon the edges of his vision. The last thing he heard before he succumbed to the darkness was a frantically yelled, "Call an ambulance!" Then, it all faded away.


A/N: I realized I forgot to mention this in the last chapter. The title comes from the play "A Midsummer Night's Dream." It's a line from Puck, the trickster.

Reviews mean Sammy lives! Though, if you've read my other story, you know how this ends, more or less. :)

A/N 2: Edited to change Cas to Gabe's cousin to fit with Fun With Blind Dates.