Chapter one

"Dude! DUDE! Check it out!" Dean Winchester held up the box and grinned at his brother Sam. "Treasure!"

"Seriously? More cassettes?" Sam raised an eyebrow.

"You know my baby only plays tapes, so shut your cakehole."

"Well, you could let me convert all that stuff to digital and put it on an iPod for you…" Sam trailed off as caught sight of the fiery glare coming from his brother. "Was just an idea", he muttered as he moved over to check the thrift store's jeans selection. Sam was in desperate need of some new jeans, as he was currently wearing the last pair he owned without major holes or blood stains. It was hard enough to find jeans that fit his 6'4" frame in a regular store, let alone a thrift store, and unless he was interested in a pair of polyester bell bottoms, this trip was looking worthless as well.

At least Dean was having fun.

"Dude! Foreigner! Feels like the first time!" he happily screeched off key. "Feels like the very first time!"

"Like you can even remember the first time", Sam mumbled.

"What was that Sasquatch?"

"Nothing. Nothing at all." Moving into another section, he found a pair of ratty cargo pants that looked like they might be just long enough, but a closer inspection revealed a nice big hole in the rear. Sam sighed and thrust them back on the rack. This was beyond frustrating. It amazed him how easy it was for Dean to find pants. His brother was just a few inches shorter, but apparently that made all the difference in the garment industry. "Some guys have all the luck", he muttered.

"Sonovabitch!"

"What?"

"Look!" Dean held up a battered VCR tape. "The Goonies!"

"What's a Goonie?" Sam asked innocently. Dean looked astonished.

"What's a Goo…I don't know you anymore," Dean said sadly. Sam chuckled inwardly. He was well aware of what a Goonie was but Dean's reaction was so classically "Dean" the feigned confusion was totally worth it. Anything to see something other than that quietly defeated look that had ruled his older brother's face lately.

Dean, meanwhile, was fairly sure Sam was playing him. Whatever. Nothing he couldn't handle. He had to admit he was pretty psyched about the tapes. There was some good stuff in that box that he wasn't currently in possession of. Besides Foreigner, there was some choice Metallica, Megadeth, even some really ancient Judas Priest and Black Sabbath. Deciding to just buy the whole box, Dean set it on the counter and moved on. Thrift stores were always a riot, if for nothing else, the entertainment value of watching his big little brother trying to find clothes to fit his moose-like frame. Not to mention the hilarity of looking at crap people thought wasn't worth keeping yet acceptable to pass down to someone else. Black velvet Elvis pictures anyone?

Moving further into the back of the store, past Sam who was currently grumbling about leisure suits and the death of disco, Dean found a small section of odd housewares in the far left hand corner. There were all kinds of strange odds and ends, glassware, plates, bowls, even an old silverware chest.

It was the carved wooden box that caught his attention.

About eighteen inches long, about six inches tall, and six inches deep, the battered wooden box was covered in carvings that were vaguely disturbing.

And it was humming.

Dean was sure of it. Just a very low, almost electrical hum. That should have been his first clue not to touch it. But it was calling to him as surely as if the box had whispered his name. His hands moved forward on their own, carefully releasing the latch on the box. Dean slowly creaked the lid open, aware of nothing around him but the mysterious box and its contents.

Inside, a red satin lining cradled a beautiful knife. A mother of pearl hilt, much like the handle on Dean's Colt 1911, stood out against dark, almost black, metal. The knife itself was about fifteen inches from blade tip to the end of the hilt.

Pulling the blade from the box, Dean was astonished to feel the knife warm to his touch, like it had been waiting for him. He could swear the knife was happy to see him. And the thought that it was odd that a knife was 'happy to see him' never even entered his mind. Examining it closer now, he marveled at the workmanship. The knife had to be old. Ancient maybe, like Ruby's blade. It definitely had the same kind of alive, supernatural feel to it. And now that it was in his hand, Dean knew he would not be able to leave the store without buying it.

No matter what it cost. He'd sell the Impala for it. Nothing mattered but this knife. It simply had to be his.

"Anything cool back here?" Sam's voice snapped Dean out of his reverie and the older man jumped. "Whoa, sorry dude. Hey nice knife."

"Yeah", Dean replied slowly, never taking his eyes from the blade. "I'm going to buy it."

"Can we afford it? Looks old, probably expensive too."

"It doesn't matter. I want it. I need it."

"Um. Oookay." Sam noticed for the first time how Dean's eyes were locked on the weapon. "Dean, you ok?" Dean stared for a second more, then seemed to snap out it. Scooping up the box on the shelf, he led to way to the checkout counter.

"I'm good Sammy, let's blow this joint!" Sam stared after him for a second, wanting to ask a question, but not even sure what the question was. He sighed and joined his brother.