21

"This is my fault." Bobby mumbled, "If I hadn't thought I could turn back time, Dean would never have played and we wouldn't be in this mess."

"Dean and Sam are gonna sort it, Bobby. No harm done, they just need to work the magic on the chips." Abbie told him, sipping her tea.

"I should go." Bobby told her.

"Stay?" Abbie asked, "I hate being stuck in these rooms alone."

"You have Bug." Bobby pointed out, Beth was almost asleep in Abbie's arms.

"She's not a great conversationalist, and it's way past her bedtime." Abbie pointed out, placing Beth on the bed, and covering her with a blanket.

"You want me to stay?"

"Course I do. We can watch TV." Abbie smiled, climbing up onto the bed and switching the TV on.

(An hour later)

"C'mon, Bug. Let's let your mom sleep, huh?" Bobby whispered, picking a sleepy Beth up and wheeling himself back to his room. If Dean wasn't 30 when he got home, Beth would probably not recognise him and let him take care of her.

(At Patrick's room)

They looked around the room, looking for a clue as to where the chips were, "Sam?" Dean pointed to a safe, Sam walked over, "Dime-store model. Piece of cake." Dean started to turn the dial, but the numbers were too blurry for him to read.

"It's like Mission: Pathetic. Watch out." Sam huffed pushing Dean aside and opening the safe himself.

"I could have done that." Dean mumbled, while Sam started to grab chips.

"What are you doing?" The woman who accompanied Patrick had caught them.

"Aren't you the chick from the bar?" Dean remembered seeing her.

"I'm a lot more than that." She clenched a fist and twisted it, Dean doubled over in pain. Patrick ran in and grabbed her arm, stopping her.

"It's all right, sweetheart. It's all right. They're harmless." Patrick turned to Sam and Dean, "You boys want chips? Take 'em. They're just chips, Einsteins. It's 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 boys want years? Score 'em the old-fashioned way. Texas hold 'em." Patrick chewed on his toothpick, waiting for an answer.

"Fine. Let's do it." Dean told him.

Patrick pulled a card out of a pocket. It's the eight of hearts. "What card am I holding up?" Dean squinted and didn't answer, "That's what I thought. If your eyesight's that bad, what about your memory? I'm not a murderer. You, on the other hand..." Patrick looked at Sam.

"No, Sam." Dean warned him.

"What, Sam not much of a player? Okay, well, happy trails, Dean. Enjoy the twilight of your life. Should have taken better care of that ticker, though." Patrick opened the door, "You're free to go." Sam and Dean moved to leave, "Oh, but, Sam..." They both stopped, "Your brother's situation-that's punishment enough, but I can't let you leave without a small parting gift." Patrick clapped his hand three times.

"What are you doing?" Sam asked, suspicious.

"You'll find out soon enough." Patrick smiled.

"Let's get out of here, Sam." Sam and Dean walked out. As soon as they were away from the room, Sam started scratching at the inside of his thighs. "Dude..." Sam turned to looked at him, still scratching, "I believe that he-witch gave you the clap." Sam marched off, leaving a laughing Dean behind him.

(Back at the motel)

Dean opened the door to his room, "She's gonna kill me." He mumbled, seeing Abbie asleep, then noticed no Beth, he ran to Bobby's room. "You guys got Beth, right?" He asked, frantically.

"Yeah, she's here." Bobby told him, nodding to Beth, asleep on Sam's bed, Sam was out picking up the crib from the van.

"Thank God." Dean sunk down on the bed beside her.

"For God's sake, don't wake her. She'll pitch a fit if you don't look like you and you try to pick her up." Bobby reminded Dean of another reason why he had to get back to looking like himself.

"You know, I still think I should play." Sam told them both, as he set up Beth's crib then gently placed her in it.

"No, no, no. You're not good enough. I'm better. Bobby's way better. We both lost."

"Exactly." Bobby nodded.

"So, what? So I don't get a say in this any more?" Sam was furious.

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

"You're thirty, Dean! Look, I've watched you hustle plenty of poker-"

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

"It's about playing the other guy. I know that." Sam finished for him.

"Well, hooray for you. All I'm saying is, I played this guy. I know his style. I can take him." Bobby put forward his plan.

"No, Bobby. You don't have enough years in the bank." Dean answered, shaking his head.

"I got enough."

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

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

"Bobby-"

"No, no. It's the facts. I'm old...and broke down...and I can't..." Bobby stopped, taking a deep breath, "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 day I got home from the hospital."

"Bobby-" Dean started, "You're not-"

"Bobby, you are not playing again. I'm not letting you do that. There's another way out of this. There's got to be. And I'm gonna find it." Sam walked out by Dean and Bobby.

(Next morning)

Abbie woke up, and noticed a still old Dean beside her, awake. "Shouldn't you be conserving your energy, Grandpa?"

"Very funny." Dean mumbled, sitting up with a grimace.

"Where's Beth?"

"With Sam and Bobby. She's still not too keen on my new look." Dean explained, remembering Bobby's warning.

"Do you guys have a plan yet?" Abbie asked, "Clearly last night didn't go to plan. And you're gonna have a tough enough time as a 30 year old with Beth and the boys...you need to fix this."

"I know I do, Sam wants to play."

"Is Sam any good?"

"You managed to beat him last time."

"Maybe I should-"

"No way. There's a reason why 80 year olds don't have babies, Abbie. Forget it."

"So, your relying on Sam?"

"You saying I shouldn't?" Dean raised his eyebrows at Abbie.

"No, but it's good that you can trust him to do this for you is all." Abbie finished quietly. "Anyway, boys are hungry, how about you pick up breakfast? I'll shower and collect Beth."

Abbie walked out of the bathroom, brushing her hair, stopping when she saw a woman on the bed. The woman, Lia, held a piece of paper up to her. "Take it. It'll help you."

"What the hell?" Abbie frowned, "How did you-"

"You want your husband back to normal, take it." She repeated, as Dean walked in followed by Bobby and Sam.

"Get out." Dean told Lia.

Bobby rolled over to her, taking the paper, "What is this?"

"The most powerful reversal spell you've ever laid your eyes on." Lia explained.

"And it reverses what?"

"Patrick's work - all of it."

"You-you saying I could be normal again?" Dean was unsure.

"You and everyone else he's ever played, who's still alive."

"Why the hell should we trust you?" Abbie asked.

"Trust me, don't trust me. I don't care. The spell is real." Lia got up, "Just thought you'd want your husband back." She nodded to Abbie and headed toward the door.

"If it zaps everyone, don't that include your man?"

"And me, too. I look good for my age."

"Lady, this don't add up for squat." Bobby told her, "Why would you want that?"

"I have my reasons." Lia looked down at the locket she was wearing, then over to Beth. "Do it quick. We leave town tomorrow."

She walked out, "Looks like I play tonight." Sam observed.

"Sam, are you sure-" Abbie started, "I mean I-"

"You're not playing, Abbie." Dean shook his head.

"I can handle it." Sam told her. "I won't let you guys down."

(That night)

"You think Sam can do it?" Abbie asked Dean as he got ready to leave.

"Course I do."

"You're not just saying that so I won't feel bad?"

"Seriously, Sam can do it." Dean told her, "I'll be back to me in no time, I'll be able to hold Beth without her throwing a hissy fit. If Sam doesn't do it, you might need to bail all three of us out."

"Take care of yourself out there."

"I always do." Dean smiled, "Back soon." He closed the motel room door, leaving Abbie behind, hoping Sam could win.

(At the bar)

Sam watched Patrick letting an old man win, once the man was gone, Sam approached Patrick, "That was nice of you."

"I'm a nice guy. What can I do you for?" Patrick asked shuffling his cards, Sam sat down across from him.

"Deal." Sam told him, while Dean and Bobby were getting the rest of the things they needed for the reversal spell.

"Jawbone of a murderer. Great." 'dean mumbled, while in a grave, digging. You know, this really sucks. How do we even know her spell's gonna work?" He asked Bobby.

"We don't. But we ain't got a Plan B. Now, less flappin' and more diggin'."

Dean moved to dig more, "Oh, God!" He moaned, "My elbows! I'm all creaky."

"Hurry up, you crybaby."

"Pound it up your ass, Ironsides." Dean snapped.

"One little grave." Bobby shook his head.

"Then you do it." Dean challenged.

"Fine. I'll hop right in." Bobby sniped back.

"Well, least your legs are numb."

"Shut up and dig, Grandma."

Dean went back to digging, "Oh! Now it's my back!" Dean grabbed at his back.

"Can you straighten up?" Bobby asked him.

"Yeah, but a little sympathy wouldn't hurt."

"Butt cheek tingling?"

"Well, that's kind of personal." Dean answered, Bobby took that to be a yes, "It's sciatica. You'll live. Keep digging."

"You know, Bobby, killing you is officially on my bucket list."

(Back at the bar)

"I like you, Sam. I do. You're smart, and your heart's clearly in the right place." Sam didn't answer, Patrick stop chewing his toothpick and took a drink of his whiskey, "I can tell a lot about a guy by looking."

"You mean you're psychic." Sam guessed, it would certainly account for his beating both Bobby and Dean.

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

"Right. Let's just play." Sam told him.

"We are playing." Patrick put his glass down, "Does your big brother know you're here?"

Sam ignored the question, "Bet five." He put his chips on the pile.

"Didn't think so." Patrick added chips to the pile, "I raise. Here you are, right? Trying to clean up their mess, and they still want to sit you at the kiddie table." Sam looked down at the table, "You're not the little brother any more, Sam." Sam looked up at Patrick, "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 the percentages. But I'm still gonna kick your ass into the nursing home."

"Does this armchair-psychology routine usually work for you?" Sam was getting annoyed by Patrick's assumptions.

Patrick just laughed, "You tell me. You're the one who's losing." Patrick chewed on his toothpick. They kept playing until Lia walked in, Patrick put down his toothpick, "Little break?"

Patrick turned to Lia, while Sam grabbed the toothpick, and walked out.

"How's it going in there?" Dean asked, once Sam had walked outside.

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

"We still need a little he-witch DNA." Dean reminded him of his task.

"He was chewing it." He handed Dean the toothpick, "Hurry up, Dean. Please."

"All right. Just keep him busy. And, Sammy...don't lose." Dean told his, as if Sam needed reminding of what was at stake. "I really don't wanna need to get Abbie in to play."

"You won't need to." Sam assured him, walking back inside.

Dean and Bobby got everything they needed, and Bobby recited the spell, "Gairmidh mi air sucellus, dia na time." Dean threw something in the flames, "Till an-dràsda obair uile gu bheilair a bhith deànta. Mar sin bitheadh. Drop it in."

Dean dropped the toothpick in, "Well? How do I look?" Bobby didn't answer, nothing had changed, "Goddammit!" Dean growled. "C'mon, Sammy. You gotta win that damn game."

(At the bar)

"Question." Patrick held up a toothpick, "Is this what you meant to give your big brother?" Sam didn't react, "The one you gave him never passed my lips. Won't do a scrap of good." He threw the toothpick on the table, "I don't like cheating, Sam." He reached out a hand, clenching his fist, Sam started gasping for breath.

"Stop it!" Lia grabbed Patrick's wrist, "Patrick, let him go!"

"He tried to kill us!" Patrick reasoned, couldn't she see that?

"I did it! I gave him the spell!" Lia admitted, making Patrick let Sam go.

"What? Why...why would you do that?"

"You know why." She touched her locket, "You know."

"Keep. Playing." Patrick instructed Sam, while Bobby and Dean headed to Patrick's apartment to find genuine DNA. Sam put more chips in, "Well, look at you - the percentage player betting the farm. Awful transparent of you, Sam. I mean, if I had a monster hand like you have, I'd trap you. But you get so excited, you bet yourself right out of a big pot." Patrick put down his cards, "I fold. Set of ladies, I'm guessing." Sam collected the chips he had won and turned over his cards, which included a pair of queens, "Nice bluff. If we had time, I could make a real player out of you."

"I got time." Sam answered.

Patrick grinned at him, "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 stood up, Patrick extended his fist and pulled him back down with witchcraft, "The game's not over till I say it is. Blinds." Patrick put down two chips, while Sam put down one. Patrick dealt new cards, Sam glanced at his then added a chip to the pot, "So." Patrick spread out his cards, "When it's about your brother, you get so emotional, your brain just flies right out the window. Good to know."

"Go to hell." Sam growled, continuing with the next hand, Sam analysed the cards, "I'm all in." He put all his chips in the middle.

"Don't do that, Sam." Patrick warned him.

"I can't leave until it's over? Fine. It's over. Now, where's my brother?"

"Look, there's poker and then there's suicide."

"Just play the hand." Sam told him.

Patrick added all his chips to the pot, "Fine." Patrick discarded a cards, and dealt an ace of clubs and diamonds. "I'm sorry, kid. Aces full."

Sam looked at the cards, exhaling shakily. "You're crying." Sam noted, looking at Lia, "For a witch, you're so nice, it's actually kind of creepy. It's okay." Sam turned back to Patrick, "It was a great hand." Patrick moved to collect the chips, "Just-" Sam continued, Patrick looked up at him, "-not as great as-" Sam turned over his cards, "-as four fours." Sam had just won.

"Well played. You know, that whole...going-out-of-your-head bit—very method. Well, there's more to you than meets the eye."

"Cash these in for Dean, please." Patrick nodded.

"With pleasure." Patrick did as asked, Sam stood up, and walked out, smiling sadly at Lia on the way out.

(At Patrick's apartment)

"Dean, you hear me? Damn it, Dean!" Bobby had been trying to call Dean ever since he went inside, not realising Dean had collapsed near death inside. Bobby spotted someone at the door, it was Dean, back to normal, grinning like a lunatic and dancing. "Idjit." Bobby mumbled.

(Back at the motel)

"No tricks—you actually beat the guy?" Bobby asked in disbelief, "How the hell?" They walked into the motel room.

"Just lucky." Sam explained.

"You won?" Abbie repeated, "You did it? Thank God. Where is he?" Just as Dean walked in with a burger. "Hey you." She smiled at Dean.

"Dada!" Beth squealed, reaching out for him, he smiled, putting down his burger.

"Hey. I'll see y'all guys later." Sam mumbled, grabbing his jacket.

"Where you going?" Dean asked, frowning.

"Umm.., nowhere." Sam answered, suspiciously. "A booster shot. Don't say it." Sam walked out quickly.

"Well, I'm going to get Beth's seat fixed into the Impala." Abbie grabbed the keys from Dean, and walked out, sensing that Dean and Bobby wanted to talk.

"Well, I guess we can get the van loaded." Bobby rolled himself towards the door, Dean cleared his throat, making Bobby stop.

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

"Which time?" Bobby grumbled.

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

"Don't you go on pity patrol."

"I'm not. I'm not. I'm just...I'm saying, you know, if I was in your shoes..." Dean continued.

"You'd never stop complaining." Bobby finished for him.

"Fair enough. You're not useless, Bobby." Dean told him.

"Okay. Good talk." Bobby felt awkward and tried to roll towards the door, Dean stood in his path.

"No, wait a minute. Listen to me." Bobby stopped rolling, Dean sat down on the bed, "You don't stop being a soldier 'cause you got wounded in battle. Okay? No matter what shape you're in, bottom line is, you're family. You're Beth's grandpa Bobby, as good as a father to me, Sam and Abbie. I can't do this without you. I can't. So don't you dare think about checking out. I don't want to hear that again."

"It's just, Abbie asked me to watch Beth and she fell off the bed and-"

"She fell off the bed?" Dean raised his eye brows, "Bobby, Beth's fine. See? She rolled off the couch when I had last week, remember, you and Abbie were in town. She's a Winchester, Bobby. And she loves her Grandpa Bobby. We need you, ok? Don't ever think we don't."

There was a silence, Abbie walked back in, having heard the lull in conversation. "Okay." Bobby conceded.

"Okay. Good." Dean nodded.

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

"Yeah, we're done." Dean answered, standing up, looking at his burger in disgust. "Let's go, Ironsides." Dean handed Beth back to Abbie and grabbed their bags.

"Oh, that one's sticking, huh?" Bobby asked, Dean just grinned back, "We'll see you back at the ranch."

"That you will." Bobby sighed, smiling slightly, rolling himself back to the van.