Author's note: for the character of McIntire, I'm using David Tennant as the 'actor'.

The Impala pulled up to the parking lot of the Atlantis casino, and the trio exited the vehicle. Dean looked up at the three hotel towers with flashy lights and whistled softly.

"You know, I think we could make a killing in these places," Dean replied.

"You do realize they're rigged, right?" Sam asked as the trio walked toward the entrance.

"Yeah, but," Dean replied, "we have something new in our arsenal." He grinned at Alicia as the three of them headed toward the entrance.

"I don't use my abilities to cheat at games," Alicia replied. "Never even been in one of these, to be honest; I hate 'em. They remind me of all the guys who'd hit on me: all flash, no substance."

"Hey," Dean replied, looking insulted.

"Don't worry, Dean," Alicia replied. "You're so much better." Dean puffed his chest a little. "You at least have a little substance." Dean's expression fell slightly, but Alicia kissed his cheek.

"You're telling me you don't hustle or anything?" Dean asked, feeling a little better.

"Oh, I hustle quite well, thanks," Alicia replied. "Doesn't involve powers, but it's more honest, and it still requires having a good set of skills."

"Oh, honey, I'm sure you've got plenty of skill," Dean said, smirking. "So, you're saying you've never even been tempted?"

Alicia shook her head. "Like Sam said, these games are rigged, and if I were to actually use my powers to win, that would put me on the few radars I'd prefer to stay off." Dean couldn't argue with her there as the three of them walked inside. They were immediately met by flashy lights, slot machines and table games sporadically occupied with patrons, and gaudy decor.

"Man, we gotta find the buffet in this place," Dean said, looking around. "I've only heard about these things, you know, they're legends: prime rib, ten types of shrimp, crab legs, lobster tails…" He glanced over at Sam and Alicia, and his expression faltered as they stared at him, unfazed.

"Can we stay focused?" Sam asked. "We gotta find out where all the vics were before they died. Easiest way is to get—"

"Security feed," Alicia interrupted. "Which means, we're gonna have to talk to whoever's in charge."

"Then I assume you're going to want to talk to me."

The trio turned around to see a tall and skinny man in his mid-to-late thirties, with brown hair parted on one side and nicely styled, and dark brown eyes. He wore a simple three-piece black suit and shoes, and was flanked on his right by another man in a suit. He smiled at the hunters.

"And you are?" Dean asked warily.

"Reagan McIntire," the man replied with what was clearly an Estuary-styled British accent. "I'm the owner of Atlantis." He looked between the three hunters. "And you are…?"

"FBI," Dean replied, noticing McIntire holding his gaze on Alicia a little too long. "Agent Gibbons, Beard, Nicks. We're investigating the deaths of a few tourists over the past year. Nothing in common, except all of them died a few hours after being here."

"Ah, yes," McIntire answered. "I'm well aware of who you're referring to. It's a shame what happened to them, but none of them died here, and the authorities who investigated said there was nothing here that indicated foul play."

"So, why keep that tidbit out of the papers?" Sam asked.

"Well, regardless of what the truth is," McIntire answered, "public perception, especially in this business, is everything, and if people associated the Atlantis with death," he shrugged, "well, you can imagine what that would do for my bottom line."

"And that's more important than finding out what happened to these people?" Dean asked.

"Of course not, Agent," McIntire replied, "but I'm not going to allow my business and reputation to be dragged through the mud unnecessarily. I mean, not to speak ill of the dead, but none of them were in the best of health before they patronized this place."

"And, yet," Alicia spoke up, "you run a business that promotes unhealthy habits."

"Nothing illegal about that," McIntire replied, looking a little amused.

"Maybe not," Alicia continued, "but don't you feel even a little bit guilty, knowing you're contributing and encouraging people to—?"

"To what?" McIntire interrupted. "To give into their demons?" Alicia raised an eyebrow. "Agent Nicks, everyone has their own demons—gambling, gluttony, fornication, chocolate. I'm sure you and your partners have your own as well, but you bury them to do your job." He tilted his head, staring at Alicia. "Am I correct?"

"Your point?" Sam asked.

"My point is," McIntire continued, "I'm just a businessman engaging in supply and demand. People want to gamble, I simply provide a place for them to do so. It's no different than restaurants that provide heart attacks on a plate. No one forces someone to eat those double bacon cheeseburgers and fried chicken wings any more than I'm putting a gun to someone's head and forcing them to gamble. I'm just simply capitalizing on something that society wants. Does that make me a bad person?" He shrugged. "Perhaps, but capitalsim has no room for ethics, but it doesn't make me a murderer."

"Doesn't make you a saint, either," Alicia retorted.

"Agent Nicks," Dean warned gently, putting a hand on her shoulder.

"It's all right, Agent Gibbons," McIntire replied, keeping his eyes on Alicia. "Agent Nicks just seems very…passionate about helping others." He smiled. "I think that's an admirable quality, and I would like to offer any assistance I can."

"Did you know there was another victim found dead in his hotel room this morning?" Sam asked.

"My source at the Reno P.D. did inform me about that, yes," McIntire answered.

"We're going to need to see the security footage from the past year," Dean replied. "Specifically, the dates when the victims were here."

"Well," McIntire said slowly, "we only keep surveillance footage for the last thirty days, then we recycle it. Never had a problem with it before, and it saved me a pretty penny with storage. I'd say that's a win." He turned to his right. "Chester. Contact security, have them make a copy of yesterday's footage so these lovely agents may review it." He looked back at the hunters. "Now, I have a few things to take care of, shouldn't take me more than a few minutes, but in the meantime you're more than welcome to look around until that footage is ready. I just ask that you try to be discreet and not scare off my customers." He took Alicia's hand and gently kissed the back of it. "Agent Nicks, if you'll excuse me." He clicked his tongue and winked before he and his men walked off, leaving the three hunters by themselves.

"Okay, that guy's a Grade A douche," Dean muttered. He glanced over and saw the slightly dreamy expression on her face. "Oh, come on, really? You were about to rip the guy a new one, and now you're swooning?"

"I'm not swooning," Alicia replied, her expression quickly changing as her cheeks turned pink. Dean raised an eyebrow, and the young woman sighed. "Okay, maybe a little, but," she chuckled and shook her head, "ooh, he's good." She saw the brothers' expressions and cleared his throat. "Okay, let's split up and see what we can find. Sam, you take one side, Dean and I can cover the other."

"Fine," Dean replied curtly. He headed off toward one side of the casino, and Alicia and Sam glanced at each other briefly before she joined him.

"Okay, so I think we need to talk," she said as she caught up with Dean, walking next to him.

"Yeah, about whether you're able to keep your head in the game or not," Dean replied.

"Excuse me?" Alicia asked, frowning.

"It means you were about to read this guy the riot act," Dean said, "but then give him a free pass because he acts all Cassanova with a British accent?"

"Okay, he was a bit of a charmer," Alicia replied, "but it doesn't mean I can't stay focused on the job." Dean snorted. "Come on, Dean, you're telling me there haven't been times when you've been working a job, and you haven't been …distracted by a pretty smile and the right words?"

"The guy was practically undressing you with his eyes, Allie," Dean replied, looking almost disgusted.

"And I'm sure you haven't experienced the same?" Dean opened his mouth but stopped himself. "Look, I've gotten used to the looks, having to pretend to like it—and sometimes someone said or did just the right thing, and I had a weak moment and had to check myself—but it didn't mean my head wasn't always in the game, okay?"

Dean glanced at her, then he sighed. "Okay," he replied.

"But," Alicia continued slowly, "this does bring up something that we should probably talk about before too long."

"What's that?"

"Well, we've both sometimes had to use our…assets to get information," Alicia replied, "but things have obviously changed."

"And you want to know how far is too far?" Dean asked.

Alicia nodded. "I don't think it's—" A powerful pain suddenly resonated in her head, spreading through her body, and the young woman shouted out as her legs gave out and she collapsed to the floor, groaning in pain. "My head."

Dean crouched in front of Alicia, grabbing her arms. "Allie? Hey, what's going on? Talk to me."

Sweating, Alicia opened her eyes, staring right at Dean, then images began flashing in front of her, too fast for her to make out. After a few seconds, a high-pitched, ear-piercing sound filled her head, and the images suddenly disappeared, leaving Alicia staring at a very worried-looking Dean cradling her head in his hands. "Dean?"

"Hey," Dean said, looking a little relieved. "Hey." He glanced up as he saw Sam hurrying over, then he glanced back at Alicia. She appeared dazed and confused as Sam knelt beside them.

"What happened?" Sam asked.

"She just suddenly shouted and collapsed," Dean said. He saw Alicia's forehead dotted with beads of sweat. "We gotta get her outta here. Hey, Allie, hey look at me. Can you walk?"

"Yeah, I think so," Alicia muttered, and both of the brothers helped her to her feet. Dean put an arm around her waist, supporting her as the trio made their way toward the entrance. They were within visual sight of the doors when McIntire walked up.

"Leaving already?" he asked. He tilted his head at Alicia, concerned. "Agent Nicks, are you alright?"

"Yeah, her breakfast burrito isn't agreeing with her," Dean replied. "We're gonna take her back to her room."

"Sure you don't need a doctor?" McIntire asked. "I've got one on call here that can check you out."

"No, thanks," Alicia replied, her breathing ragged. "I'll be fine."

"If you say so," McIntire said. "Oh, uh, here," he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small USB drive. "The surveillance footage you requested." He handed it to Sam. "I hope it helps your investigation. And I hope you feel better soon, Agent Nicks." He nodded and walked off, heading for the elevators. The hunters glanced at each other briefly before they continued toward the entrance.


Back in their motel room, Alicia sat at the foot of hers and Dean's bed, her jacket and shirt tossed behind her, leaving her dressed in a white tank top, her pants, and shoes. She was slightly doubled over, her breathing still ragged. Sam sat next to her, a hand on her shoulder. Dean walked over from the kitchenette sink with a glass of water. He handed it to her, and she took a sip.

"Better?" Sam asked.

"A little," Alicia answered.

"So, what the hell was that?" Dean asked, standing nearby with his arms folded. "I mean, we're in the middle of a conversation, then you just drop, looking like you're gonna hurl."

"I don't know," Alicia replied. "I just got this headache, then it felt like my body was on fire, then I saw all these images."

"What were they?" Sam asked.

Alicia shook her head. "They were all blurred together," she said before taking another sip of water. "Then there was this loud, high-pitched sound, and the images suddenly disappeared." She glanced up to see the brothers looking at each other with troubled expressions. "I take it neither of you heard it?"

"No," Dean replied, "but it sounds like—"

"Sounds like when I had my visions," Sam replied. "Which means—"

"We could be dealing with Azazel," Dean finished. "And we don't even have the freakin' Colt."

"Actually, that's not exactly true," Alicia said. The brothers glanced at each other.

"Which part?" Dean asked.

Alicia handed the glass to Sam, then stood up and walked over to her duffle bag. She reached in and rummaged around for a few moments before pulling out the Colt. "This."

"Son of a bitch," Dean said, stunned.

"You took the Colt?" Sam asked in disbelief.

"Yep," Alicia answered.

"You said you weren't going after the demons," Dean replied, looking frustrated.

"Not immediately," Alicia said. "I was gonna find Cass first, see what he knew, then…yeah, I was going to find a way to kill them."

Dean stared at her. "So, you lied to us." Alicia opened his mouth. "Look, don't even, Allie. You already had the Colt when we caught you sneaking out, and not once did you say anything." He shook his head, disappointed. "And you have the audacity to get mad at Bobby and Dad for lying to you."

Alicia narrowed her eyes. "I took the Colt for my protection. They lied to me to protect themselves."

"Hey, spin it however the hell you want, sweetheart," Dean replied curtly. "As for the Colt," he walked over and took it from her, "this stays with us." He walked over and put it in his duffle bag, then gave her a hard look. "Don't take it again." He almost felt bad as she flinched slightly and averted her gaze, but he quickly brushed it aside.

Sam glanced between the two uncomfortably, then cleared his throat. "So, what do we do now? I mean, if it's Azazel—"

"It's not Azazel," Alicia interrupted.

"Oh, really?" Dean asked in a patronizing tone, folding his arms

Alicia frowned. "Look, I'm sorry I didn't tell you about the Colt, okay, and you can be pissed at me all you want, but don't you dare talk down to me like I'm some rookie who doesn't know anything."

Dean raised an eyebrow and glanced at Sam, who shrugged slightly. The older Winchester looked back at the young woman, who was staring at him, arms folded. Despite being angry at her, he found her assertiveness a turn on, but he wasn't completely ready to play nice. "Fine," he replied curtly. "Why do you think it's not Azazel—or any of the other demons?"

"What happened at the casino," Alicia explained. "It wasn't a vision."

"Then what was it?" Dean asked.

"Magic," Alicia replied. "More specifically, a targeting spell, designed to attack the victim with images until they're eventually driven insane. My mom wrote about it in one of her books. She said it was a fairly common spell among witches, and it's powerful—very powerful—and almost impossible to overcome unless you know how to counter it."

"Good thing you did," Sam said. Alicia glanced at Sam. "You don't think it was you?"

"I've never encountered that spell before," Alicia replied, "but it's possible, I guess." She seemed unsure of herself, but didn't continue.

"Maybe we should check out the surveillance footage," Sam suggested as he stood up and walked over to the kitchenette table. He sat down and opened his laptop. "There might be something there that gives us a better clue what exactly we're dealing with." He removed the USB from his pocket and inserted it into the laptop, opening up the file.

The three of them watched the footage, seeing a very much alive Jason Talbert at the Atlantis. They saw him spend some time at a craps table, lose a lot of money, then shuffle over to a roulette table. After losing more money and looking very dejected, Talbert slunk out of the casino, still alive.

"Well, that was uneventful," Dean said. He glanced over and saw Alicia staring at the screen, tilting her head. "What is it?"

"Did you hear that?" Alicia asked. "Near the end. There was…something."

"I didn't hear anything," Dean replied.

"I did," Alicia retorted.

"You sure?" Sam asked.

"Back it up about ten seconds," Alicia instructed, "but don't play it just yet." Sam obliged, and Alicia stared at the screen. "Ausculto." Her eyes glowed purple. "Okay." Sam played the tape, and the footage played again, but this time there was a low humming sound, then the voice uttered the words 'Prospiciebat obviam, Alicia'. When it ended, Alicia's eyes stopped glowing.

"What the hell does that mean?" Sam asked.

"'Looking forward to meeting you, Alicia'," Alicia answered grimly.

"Okay, well, that settles it," Dean said, looking at the young woman. "You're not going anywhere near that casino anymore."

"Like hell I'm not," Alicia replied. "This is my case, I'm gonna find this thing and put its ass in the ground."

"No, this is our case," Dean corrected her, "and you're gonna stay here while Sam and I find this thing and put its ass in the ground." Alicia scoffed. "Allie, this thing's already attacked you once. Something tells me it won't hesitate to do so again—this time with more juice."

"I'm sorry," Alicia replied harshly. "Who in this room still has their magic?" She raised her hand for a second before lowering it. "If we're dealing with a powerful witch, you're gonna need an equally powerful witch to fight them."

"Great idea," Dean said. "Know where we can find one?" Alicia just stared at Dean for a moment, her jaw set, then her eyes grew bright. She didn't say anything as she marched across the room into the bathroom and slammed the door shut, rattling the walls and every loose object in the room.

"What the hell was that for, Dean?" Sam asked.

"What?"

"If this is a witch we're facing, Alicia may be our best shot at fighting it."

"Sam, whatever this thing is, it attacked her. That message on the surveillance footage mentioned her name. Whatever this thing is, it wants her, not you, not me, but her."

"And how many things have targeted us in the past?" Dean opened his mouth. "Dude, look, I get it, but you know what Alicia's capable of doing."

"And she's not there yet."

"And she's never gonna get there if you keep holding her back."

"I'm holding her back?" Dean asked incredulously. He scoffed. "You ever think that maybe I'm trying to keep her alive, Sam? Maybe I'm trying to keep us all alive." The hunter stared at his brother for a few moments before looking away, frustrated and embarrassed. He sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Look, something just doesn't feel right about this, okay?"

"You're only saying that because it's our first case together and she got hurt." Dean gave him a look. "Dean, she's a hunter, she's been a hunter all her life. Hell, she's been hunting solo for longer than we have. She's not invulnerable—none of us are—but she's far from being helpless."

"I know, I just…." Dean shook his head. "I don't know." He exhaled sharply. "Look, um, it's getting late, and it doesn't look like I'm gonna be much good right now except for a dinner run." He headed for the front door. "You stay here and hold the fort." He opened the door, then stopped. "Oh, and look into McDouche's history."

"You think he's lying?" Sam asked.

"The man said everyone has demons," Dean replied. "I wanna know his." He left, shutting the door behind him. Sam sighed and shook his head, then began typing on his keyboard.