Disclaimer: I own nothing except Kayla

A/N: Here's chapter 8. Read and Review.

The boys and Kayla hold up their CDC badges. "You expect me to believe you're CDC?" the doctor in front of them asks. The boys exchange glances over Kayla's head.

"Excuse me?" Sam says.

"It's just that you're a day early," she says. "First time in history I haven't sat on my ass waiting for you people."

"New administration," Dean smiles. "A change you can believe in."

She smiles. "Right."

She pulls out the metal slab from the wall. There's an old man laying on it. "Meet Xavier," she says, looking at her clipboard. "Date of birth April 3rd, 1984." The boy and Kayla stare.

"I know," she says. "I ran the DNA twice. That's definitely him."

Dean raises his eyebrows. "He wasn't big on the sunscreen, huh."

Sam shoots him a look, as Kayla rolls her eyes. "So what's your theory?"

"All I know is that he's male, twenty-five years old, and he died of old age," she replies, then walks away.

As the trio leave, Dean is talking on his cellphone. "You were right about this one – it's definitely a job." Bobby's sitting in his house in his wheelchair.

"Thought so," he replies. "Any other stiffs in town?"

"Nah, just the one body," Dean says as the boys head down the hall.

"Anything else?" Bobby asks.

"Couple of missing persons, but that's usual for a town this size," Dean replies.

"Well check 'em out," Bobby says.

"You think they're connected?" Dean asks.

Bobby shrugs. "Call it a hunch."

"You got it," Dean says. "By the way, how're you doing?"

"Doing?" Bobby repeats.

"Yeah, you know. Just – in general," Dean replies.

"Oh, you mean my legs," Bobby says irritably. "Well I'm just weepin' in my Haagen Dazs. Idjit." He hangs up. Dean closes his phone, looking at Sam and Kayla.

The boy and Kayla are sitting across from an older woman. Dean's holding a picture of a man. "That's the most recent," she says. Sam takes the photo and looks at it. It's a picture of an older man, playing golf.

"How long has he been missing?" Kayla asks gently.

"Oh I knew right away when he didn't come home Tuesday night," she says.

"Is there some place he likes to go, after work maybe?" Dean asks as Sam notices a USMC tattoo on the man's arm. "A favourite bar?"

"No," she says. "Tuesdays he always works a bit late, but he always comes straight home."

Dean nods. "May I use your facilities, ma'am?"

He heads out into the hall, going into the husband's office. He quickly goes through a pile of paper, then reaches in the pocket of a jacket hanging on the back of the chair. It's a receipt, reading 'Madame Liu's Golden Palace'. "Working late my ass," Dean mutters.

"Well at least he's consistent," Sam says as the boys head down the hall at Madame Liu's. "Same room every Tuesday, hourly rates."

"I hope I got that kinda kick when I'm his age," Dean comments.

"Yeah, like either of us will live that long,"Sam replies.

"True," Dean agrees.

"Hey, what about me?" Kayla asks.

Sam looks down at her, "The chances are that you'd have became an angel by then." Kayla pouts and looks away, ignoring him.

"So? What do you think's in there?" Sam asks, ignoring Kayla in return.

Dean shrugs, rolling his eyes at the pair. "A wrinkly, gooey corpse." Outside Room 44, Sam takes out his lockpick set. Before he can take out the right one, there's yelling from inside the room. Sam shoves open the door with his shoulder, and the boys and Kayla stop.

"Hey – what the...?" A young man is laying in the bed with a girl, and second later another girl comes out from under the covers. "Oh, God," Dean says, covering Kayla's eyes with his hand.

"It's gooey," Sam says. The girls get up and start to leave.

"Sorry – got the wrong room," Dean says.

"Would you close the door?" the man says irritably. Sam starts to leave, then stops.

"Hey..." He looks back. Sure enough, there's a USMC tattoo on the man's lower arm. "Nice tattoo." He goes back into the room. "Happen to know anybody called Cliff Witlow?"

The man swallows. "Never heard of him."

"Well that's weird," Sam replies, going to the dresser. "Cause you're carrying his wallet." Dean goes over to the bed and lifts up the sheet, making sure Kayla isn't watching.

"Huh. Your wife told us about your birthmark there, that's nice. Well you look great, Cliff. Did you get some work done?" Cliff sighs.

"Could you give us some privacy?" he says to the two girls, who are standing nearby. Dean winks at them, then looks back at Cliff seriously.

Cliff, now wrapped in a robe, gives the girls some money, then closes the door. He turns around. "Please don't tell my wife. I'm begging you – as far as she knows, I'm dead. For the love of God, let's keep it that way."

"How can you possibly be Cliff Witlow?" Kayla asks, keeping her eyes on his face.

"I can't tell you," he says after a second.

"Well either you tell us, or we tell the missus," Dean replies.

"Okay, okay! It was a game," Cliff says.

"Like... X-Box?" Sam asks.

Cliff stares at him. "What's X-Box? No, poker. High stakes, steady cash... you play for years."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Dean says, looking confused.

"Look, I know it sounds crazy. Guy comes up to me at a bar, invites me to play. Gives me twenty-five of these weirdo poker chips, right? Chants some mumbo-humbo over them – says now, they're twenty-five years. I'm laughing, but then I come out up. And look at me!"

"What was he chanting?" Sam asks.

"How should I know? All I know is that my bad hip's good, I threw away my glasses – one of those ladies was here for free! Man, it's some kind of miracle worker."

"What does this miracle worker look like?" Kayla asks.

"Just a guy," Cliff says. "Maybe thirty-five, brown hair, Irish accent – his name's Patrick."

"Alright alright, where's this game at?" Dean asks.

"He said he likes to keep moving – never stays in one bar long," Cliff replies. "He finds you."

Dean looks at Sam. "Thank you, Cliff." They head for the door. "Oh and uh – stay classy," Dean says before he leaves.

Outside, Dean's on his cellphone again as they walk. "It sounds crazy, right?"

"No, there's lore on it," Bobby replies. "Goes back centuries. Traveling card player pops into town – you beat him, you get your best years back. 'Course, most folks lose."

"Well that would explain the crunchy corpse," Dean says.

"Supposedly this player's a hell of a card chart," Bobby says. "Gotta lot of years in the bank. You find the bar he's working in yet?"

"There's a lot of dives in this town, I mean we're gonna have to split up," Dean says.

"Well why you still talking to me?" Bobby asks, and hangs up. He thinks for a second, then goes over and picks up his keys.

"Find anything?" Sam asks Dean over the phone. Dean's in a bar, Kayla's sitting next to him.

"Yeah, a whole bunch of squat. You?" Dean replies.

"Nah, not a thing," Sam says

. "Yeah, well you come up dry, circle back to the motel in two," Dean says. "Your turn to grab dinner."

"Usual?" Sam asks.

"Extra bacon," Dean replies, sitting down at the bar and hanging up.

"Can I get a beer?" Kayla looks at him, "No!" He says immediately. She sighs and puts her head in her hands.

"Yup." The bartender comes over.

"You wouldn't happen to know of a poker game going on in back, would you?" Dean asks.

"It's a bar. Not a casino," the bartender replies, opening the beer and handing it to Dean. Dean looks at him.

"My friend Ben told me you'd know."

"Don't know any Ben," the bartender says.

"Sure you do. Balding? Smart ass? Real eighties man?" Dean says. The bartender leans closer.

"Listen pal. I told you. I don't know any Ben, I don't know nothing about a game."

"You sure? Cause he sure seems to know you," Dean says, sliding a hundred dollar bill across the bar. The bartender takes the money.

"'Round back. Take the elevator down."

Outside, Dean heads for the elevator, Kayla following him. Just as he's about to go in, it opens, and Bobby comes out. "Bobby? What the hell're you doing here?" Dean asks, surprised.

"Planting daisies. What's it look like?" Bobby snaps. "Came in on the case."

"And you beat me here," Dean says.

"Well, brains tromps legs, apparently," Bobby replies, wheeling past him.

"So you found the game?" Dean asks, following.

"Yup," Bobby says.

"Did you stop it?" Kayla asks. Bobby's silent.

"Bobby?" Dean asks. Bobby stops, then turns to face them.

"Not exactly."

"What did you do?" Dean asks.

"I played, okay?" Bobby replies.

Dean stares. "And?"

"I lost," Bobby says.

"Are you kidding me?" Dean says loudly. "You played some he-witch?"

"Don't you take that tone with me," Bobby snaps.

"You idiot!" Dean says.

"Dean!" Kayla rebukes, slapping him.

"They're my years, I can do what I want!" Bobby yells.

"How many did you lose?" Dean asks.

"Twenty-five," Bobby says after a second. Even as Dean and Kayla watch, the lines in Bobby's face deepen.

"We're not done," Dean says, and heads back toward the elevator.

"So you're saying that you're a mindreader." A middle-aged man and a young blond woman are sitting at a table across from a brown-haired man.

"Aw, come on. No such thing," the man says. He has an Irish accent.

"But. I can read people. Take your lovely companion here. I'd say, judging from her exquisite posture, she used to be a dancer." The woman smiles. "Not much of a drinker," the man goes on, leaning close, "Very independent. Looking for adventure."

Dean walks up behind and grabs the man's arm. "Hey man. Excuse me. Can I borrow you for a sec?" The man glares at him for a second, but Dean pulls back his jacket so the hilt of his pistol can be seen, and the man smiles.

"Oh yeah! Of course. Great. Good to see ya." He smiles at the couple. "Would you two please excuse me?"

"Sorry to cut you short with Mr. And Mrs. Easy Marks over here," Dean says, sitting across from Patrick at a table with Kayla sitting next to him.

"Oh no big. Wasn't a total loss." Patrick holds up a gold watch. "And beside, I get to meet a gorgeous young lady." He smiles at Kayla, who blushes and ducks her head. Dean points his gun at Patrick under the table. "Look. I don't know what it is you think I did to your wife. Or girlfriend... mother or sister. But I just want you to know, my feelings were real," Patrick says.

"That ain't my problem, man-witch," Dean cuts in. "You owe my friend some years."

"Oh that's what this is," Patrick says. "I'm sorry. He lost. Them's the breaks."

"Well then un-lose him," Dean says, cocking the gun. Patrick looks at him.

"Oh, go ahead and shoot me if it makes you feel better. Besides. I could use a good – you know – tickle." Dean glares. "You want years? Great. Play me for them," Patrick says.

"Fine," Dean says.

"Dean, no!" Bobby says – he's sitting nearby.

"They're my years, I can do what I want," Dean reminds him.

"Dean," Kayla whines. "Please don't."

Bobby coughs violently – he's greyer than ever. "Lozenge?" Patrick asks. "What? It's barely linty. Well, suit yourself. Just trying to help."

"Alright alright, come on, let's do this," Dean interrupts, glaring.

"You understand the terms," Patrick says. Dean nods.

Patrick takes out his box of poker chips and takes out twenty-five, putting them in front of Dean. "Make it fifty," Dean says. Patrick smiles, chewing on a toothpick.

"I like the cut of your jib." He takes out twenty-five more chips and puts them on the table. He holds out his hand and chants, and the chips shine for a moment. Kayla gasps. Patrick puts the toothpick back in his mouth and looks at Dean. Dean pulls the chips toward him, then spreads them out, counting them. "Twenty five. That's twenty five years. They go to him. He's cashing out." He pushes them forward.

"Dean," Bobby warns.

"Bobby," Dean says.

"Dean," Kayla whines.

"Kayla," Dean says.

"Bobby," she turns to him. He just shakes his head, unable to stop him.

"You sure?" Patrick asks.

"Yes," Dean replies. Patrick holds out his hand and chants over the chips again. The chips suddenly catch fire, and as the ashes blow towards Bobby, Dean looks up and sees that Bobby is back to his usual age. Patrick looks at him.

"That's twenty-five years you just pissed away. Better be sure you can win 'em back."

"Shuffle up and deal," Dean replies.

Patrick smiles, pulling the box of chips toward him. "This is gonna be fun."

Sam opens the door to their room and walks in, holding their food. "Hey Dean? You find anything?" Smiling at Kayla, who is sitting at the table.

"Uh, you might say," a deep, different voice replies from the bathroom. Sam grabs his gun, aiming it at the older, grey-haired man who walks out.

"Who the hell are you?" he yells, walking forward.

"Dude – relax. It's me," the old man says. Sam lowers the gun.

"Dean?"

"It's him," Kayla sighs, not bothering looking at the brothers.

"Hi," Dean says.

"What the hell happened?" Sam asks, staring.

"I – you know – found the game," Dean says, walking past to the table.

"I thought you said you were good at poker!" Sam says, Kayla snickers.

"I am, shut up!" Dean says, picking up his burger. "So you were just gonna shoot some old guy, is that it?"

"I didn't know what you were – I mean, have you seen you?" Sam asks. "You look like..."

"The old chick in Titanic, I know, shut up," Dean says, chewing. Kayla giggles at his movie reference.

"I was gonna say Emperor Palpatine," Sam says, with this said, Kayla bursts out laughing.

The door opens and Bobby comes in. "Oh, I see you met John McCaine there," he says to Sam.

"Yeah. Any of you wanna tell me what happened?" Sam says.

"Bobby's an idiot, that's what happened," Dean says.

"Hey, nobody asked you to play," Bobby snaps.

"Here it goes again," Kayla mutters, walking over to stand next to Sam.

"Right, I shoulda just let you die," Dean says.

"And for damn sure nobody asked you to lose," Bobby goes on.

"It's like Grumpy Old Men," Sam grins.

"Shut up Sam!" Dean and Bobby say in unison. Kayla laughs at the expression on Sam's face.

"What the hell were you thinking?" Dean asks. "He's a witch! He's been playing poker since guys wore tights."

"You just don't get it," Bobby says.

"Yeah I get it, Bobby. You saw a chance to turn the hands of the clock back and get out of that damn chair. Pretty tempting! I can imagine."

"No you can't," Bobby snaps, Kayla gasps.

"You got me," Dean says after a second. "I've never been paralyzed. But I'll tell you something – I've been to Hell, and there's an archangel there wanted me to drop the soap. Look at me, my junk's rustier than yours! You hear me belly-aching, huh?"

"Actually yeah," Sam puts in.

Dean starts to say something, then stops as his stomach makes a loud noise. He sits down heavily. "I'm having a heart attack!"

"No you're not," Bobby says.

"Drama queen," Kayla calls.

"What is it?" Dean asks.

"Acid reflux," Bobby replies. "Guys your age can't digest certain foods. You're gonna need to put down that cheeseburger."

Dean sighs, but he puts it down. "So. You wanna keep emoting? Or you wanna talk about solving this little issue of yours?" Bobby asks.

"It's gotta be about the chips." Dean leans forward. "I slid them across. Patrick did his little witchy number. And you prettied up in a hurry."

"What are y'all thinking? Some kind of magic chips or something?" Sam asks, sitting down too. Kayla remains standing behind Sam.

"Definitely," Bobby says.

"You remember what he chanted?" Sam asks.

"Yep. Every word," Bobby replies.

"Alright, then let's find out where he stashes his chips," Sam says.

"And steal me fifty. Benjamin Button's me back into burger shape," Dean says. "What do you think?"

"I think you oughta put some clothes on," Bobby says, nodding at Dean's robe.

There's a knock at the door just as Dean finishes dressing, and he walks over to the door to answer it. A young woman is standing outside, holding some towels. "Ready for housekeeping sir?"

Dean smiles and leans on the door frame. "Born ready."

She smiles at him. "You're just like my grandfather. He hits on anything that moves too." She walks past him into the room. "You're adorable."

"And dangerous," Dean adds.

"Aw!" She laughs. Sam and Bobby shrug at him, smiling. Kayla's laughing into Sam's shoulder.

"Can we just go?" Dean says.

The boys, Bobby and Kayla are sitting in the Impala, watching as Patrick leaves the bar. He starts to cross the street, but is suddenly hit by a car. The man in the car jumps out to see if he's okay, then hurries to some truck drivers for help. A second later, Patrick drives by, beeping the horn, perfectly fine. Dean laughs. "I gotta say – I kinda like the guy."

"So do I," Kayla grins.

The three of them watch as Patrick leaves his apartment, in a tall glass building, and gets in his car. They head inside, Sam pushing Bobby's wheelchair, then stop. "Well I'm out," Bobby says. There's an "Elevator Out of Order" sign on the door.

"Bad luck Bobby," Kayla pats his shoulder as she walks towards the staircase.

Sam and Kayla hurry up the stairs as Dean follows slower, and by the time Sam and Kayla reach the top Dean's panting. "Dean," Sam says, and points at the sign on the wall. It's only the second floor.

They reach the right floor, and go to Patrick's room. Dean's panting. Sam takes out the lockpick set but before he can do anything Kayla stops him, "May I?"Kayla picks the lock and they go in. Dean goes to a fancy cabinet and opens it – he finds a secret compartment at the back, and there's a safe inside it.

"Guys?" he calls. They walk over.

"Dime store model," Dean says, leaning in close to open the lock. "Piece of cake." But even as he turns it, his vision is going blurry.

"It's like Mission: Pathetic. Watch out," Sam says, pushing Dean aside. He opens it in a second. Inside are the chips.

"I coulda done that," Dean snaps. Sam gives him a look and starts taking out the chips.

"What're you doing?" a woman's voice asks, and they turn. A young blond woman is standing in the doorway.

"Aren't you the girl from the bar?" Kayla asks.

"I'm a lot more than that," she says, and raises her hand. The trio cringe in pain. A second later, Patrick runs in.

"It's alright, sweetheart. It's alright. They're harmless." He lowers her arm,then walks over to them. "You kids want chips? Take 'em. They're just chips, Einsteins. It's the showmanship. This may come as a shock, but the magic does not lie in a pile of crappy plywood. Or in any phony abracadabra. It's in the nine-hundred-year-old witch. You kids want years? Score 'em the old fashioned way." He puts a toothpick in his mouth. "Texas Hold 'Em."

"Nine hundred, oh no fair," Kayla moans.

"Fine. Let's do it," Dean says, ignoring her.

Patrick pulls a card out of his pocket. "What card am I holding up?" Dean squints at it, but he can't see. "That's what I thought," Patrick says. "If your eyesight's that bad, what about your memory? I'm not a murderer." He looks at Sam. "You, on the other hand."

"No Sam," Dean says.

"Dean," Sam says.

"What, Sam not much of a player?" Patrick asks. "Okay, well. Happy trails, Dean. Enjoy the twilight of your life. Shoulda taken better care of that ticker though." He walks to the door and opens it. "You're free to go." They walk out. "Oh but Sam," Patrick says, and he turns back. "Your brother's situation, well that's punishment enough. But I can't let you leave without a small parting gift." He claps three times.

"What're you doing?" Sam asks.

"You'll find out soon enough," Patrick says, winking. "And you, beautiful. I'm going to leave you alone." Kayla smiles and skips out of the room, following the brothers.

As they leave the building, Sam's walking awkwardly. He glances at Dean. "Dude. I believe that he-witch gave you the clap," Dean says. He and Kayla laugh.

The trio and Bobby are walking. Bobby asks for help being pushed up a steep hill, and Sam goes back to help him. "You know, I still think I should play."

"No. You're not good enough," Dean says. "I'm better, Bobby's way better, we both lost."

"Exactly," Bobby agrees.

"So what, so I don't get a say in this anymore?" Sam says.

"Sammy, when you get to be our age..." Dean begins.

"You're thirty, Dean!" Kayla says loudly.

"Look, I've watched you hustle plenty of poker!" Sam says.

"Knowing the game is not enough, Sam. It's not about playing the cards," Bobby begins.

"It's about playing the other guy. I know that," Sam replies.

"Well hooray for you. All I'm saying is that I've played this guy. I know his style. I can take him," Bobby says.

"No Bobby. You don't have enough years in the bank," Dean says.

"I got enough," Bobby says.

"No, you'll die if you lose Bobby," Sam replies.

"So what if I do, huh? What exactly am I living for, huh?" Bobby yells. "The damn apocalypse? Watching men die bloody while I sit in this chair, can't take a step to help 'em?"

"Bobby, come on," Dean begins.

"No, no. It's the facts," Bobby snaps. "I'm old, and I'm broke-down, and I can't..." He pauses, breathing heavily. "I ain't a hunter no more. I'm useless. And if I wasn't such a coward, I'd have stuck a gun in my mouth the day I got home from the hospital."

"Bobby, no," Kayla breathes. Dean looks away.

"Bobby, you're not playing again," Sam says finally. "I'm not letting you do that. There's another way out of this, there's gotta be. And I'm gonna find it." Bobby's silent. Sam and Kayla walk away.

Patrick is sitting across the table from an old man. The old man is looking at his cards nervously and playing with the chips. Patrick's holding two kings. The old man is holding two nines. The old man throws his chips in. "Bet."

"I sense you've got me by the jewels on this one, Ash," Patrick says. "I fold." He puts down the cards. Ash pulls the chips toward him. "What, you're up thirteen years there Ash? What do you say we call it a day?"

Ash smiles. "Thanks, Patrick."

"Ash here is gonna live to see his granddaughter's bat mitzvah, isn't that right Ash?" Patrick says. Sam and Kayla are standing behind Ash. "Thanks again, Patrick," Ash says.

"Shalom my friend, shalom," Patrick says. Ash leaves.

"That was nice of you," Kayla says.

Patrick shrugs. "I'm a nice guy. What can I do you for?"

Sam sits. "Deal."

Patrick smiles. "I like you, Sam. I do. You're smart, and your heart's clearly in the right place. I can tell a lot about a guy by looking." He puts down his toothpick and picks up his drink.

"You mean you're psychic?" Sam says, sharing a look with Kayla.

"No. That'd be cheating," Patrick replies. "I'm talking about good, old-fashioned intuition."

"Right. Let's just play," Sam says.

"We are playing," Patrick says. Sam and Kayla eye his glass as he puts it down. "Does your big brother know you're here?" Patrick asks.

Sam picks up some chips. "Bet five." He tosses them in.

"Didn't think so," Patrick smiles. "I raise." He puts some more chips in. "Here you are, right? Trying to clean up their mess. And they still wanna sit you at the kiddie table with Kayla. You're not the little brother anymore, Sam." Sam doesn't answer. Patrick plays with the chips. "Then again, maybe you are. You're in over your head here, Sam. I mean, you can keep making these moves. You know – playing it cautious. Playing in percentages. But I'm still gonna kick your ass into the nursing home."

"Does this armchair psychology usually work for you?" Sam asks.

Patrick laughs. "You tell me. You're the one who's losing." He puts the toothpick back in his mouth.

Patrick shuffles the cards as Sam watches. Patrick's girlfriend walks in, and he smiles at her and puts down the toothpick. She kisses him as Sam eyes the toothpick again. "Little break?" Patrick asks, winking at Sam.

"Break?" Kayla questions, looking at Sam.

Sam opens the door and goes outside, where Dean's waiting. "How's it going in there?"

Sam huffs. "How do you think it's going? What about you, you have everything you need?"

"We still need a little he-witch DNA," Dean replies.

Sam holds up a toothpick. "He was chewing it. Hurry up Dean. Please."

"Alright. Just keep him busy and keep Kayla away from him. And Sammy? Don't lose." Sam goes back inside. Dean goes back to the alley, where Bobby is sitting in the back of his van. He chants over a fire, and then Dean throws in some of the ingredients. Bobby chants some more, then tells him to put in the toothpick. Dean does it.

"Well? How do I look?" Bobby sighs. Nothing's changed.

Inside, Patrick looks at Sam and Kayla. "Question." He pulls a toothpick out his jacket. "Is this what you meant to give your big brother?" Sam doesn't say anything as Kayla looks at him in surprise. "The one you gave him, never passed my lips. Won't do a scrap of good." He tosses the toothpick at Sam. "I don't like cheating, Sam." He holds out his hand and Sam stiffens in pain and grabs his throat.

"Sam!" Kayla screams, jumping up and running over to him.

"Stop it! Patrick! Let him go!" His girlfriend grabs his arm.

"He tried to kill us!" Patrick says.

"I did it! I gave him the spell," she says, and Patrick stops and stares at her.

"What?" He stands up and takes her face in his hands. "Why – why would you do that?"

"You know why," she says, fingering her locket. "You know." Patrick thinks for a second, then sits down again.

"Keep playing," he hisses.

Sam puts down some chips.

"Well look at you! The percentage player betting the farm," Patrick says. "Awful transparent of you, Sam. I mean, if I had a monster hand like you have – I'd trap you. But you get yourself so excited, you bet yourself right out of a big pot." He puts down his cards. "I fold. Set of ladies, I'm guessing." Sam pulls back his chips and puts down two fives. "Nice bluff," Patrick says. "If we had time, I could make a real player out of you."

"I got time," Sam says.

Patrick smiles. "Maybe. But I can't say the same for Dean. Your brother's gonna be dead soon. And when I say soon, I mean minutes." Sam starts to get up, but Patrick forces him back down. "The game's not over till I say it is. Blinds." Kayla looks between Sam and the door. She starts to move towards it, before being pulled back. "You, are staying right here," Patrick says, staring at her.

Patrick throws out two cards, and Sam does the same, quickly. "So. When it's about your brother, you get so emotional your brain just flies right out the window," Patrick says. "Good to know."

"Go to Hell," Sam snaps.

"I'm all in," Sam says, pushing his chips over.

Patrick sighs. "Don't do that, Sam."

"I can't leave until it's over, fine. It's over," Sam says, breathing hard.

"Sam, no," Kayla whispers.

"Now where is my brother?"

"Look – there's poker, and then there's suicide," Patrick says.

"Just play the hand," Sam says. He's sweating.

Patrick puts all his chips in the middle. "Fine." He puts down two aces. "I'm sorry. Aces full." Sam stares, breathing hard. Kayla hugs him as Patrick's girlfriend starts to cry. Sam looks at her. "You're crying. For a witch, you're so nice it's actually kind of creepy." He nods. "It's okay. It was a great hand. Just..." Patrick freezes. "...not as great as four fours," Sam says, turning over his cards.

Patrick smiles. "Well played. You know, that whole going out of your head bit... very method. Well there's more to you than meets the eye." He raises his drink.

"Cash these in for Dean, please," Sam says, hugging Kayla.

"With pleasure," Patrick replies.

"No tricks – you actually beat the guy," Bobby asks. Sam shrugs. "How the hell...?" Bobby begins.

"Just lucky," Sam smiles. Dean comes in, eating a cheeseburger. "Alright, I'll see y'all guys later," Sam says, getting his jacket.

"Where you going?" Dean asks.

"Uh, um, nowhere," Sam replies. Dean looks at him. "Booster shot," Sam says finally. "Don't say it." He leaves and Kayla follows him, teasing him.

"Well, I guess we can get the van loaded," Bobby says, starting for the door. Dean holds up a hand and clears his throat.

"I shouldn't have called you an idiot."

"Which time?" Bobby asks sarcastically.

"I'm sorry," Dean says. "I mean I actually... I get it. Getting old ain't a bachelor party. And dealing with the crap you gotta deal with..."

"Don't you go on pity patrol," Bobby snaps.

"I'm not," Dean says quickly. "I'm not. I'm just saying that if I was in your shoes..."

"You'd never stop complaining," Bobby finishes for him.

Dean blinks. "Fair enough." Bobby nods. "You're not useless, Bobby," Dean says after a moment.

"Okay," Bobby says. "Good talk."

"No, wait a minute. Listen to me." Dean sits down. "You don't stop being a soldier, because you get wounded in battle. Okay? No matter what shape you're in, bottom line is – you're family. Now I don't know if you've noticed, but me and Sam, we don't have much left. Even Kayla thinks of you as her family. I can't do this without you. I can't. So don't you dare think about checking out. I don't wanna hear that again."

Bobby looks at him for a second. "Okay."

"Okay," Dean repeats. "Good." He looks down.

"Thanks," Bobby says quietly. "Now, we done feeling our feelings? Cause I'd like to get out of this room before we both start growing lady parts."

Dean stands up. "Yeah we're done." He picks up his cheeseburger, then looks at Bobby and throws it out. "Let's go, ironsides."

"Oh that one's sticking, huh?" Bobby comments. Dean smiles at him and taps his chest, then walks around the corner. Bobby takes a deep breath.