"So tell me, what'd it cost?"

"Hey! New guy! I said it'll cost you five if you're in." a sharp voice jerked Dean back into his present. He needed to focus. His seat at this table had come at the cost of a few favors to Gi's web of contacts. He shouldn't let it go down the crapper over being distracted by wandering snippets of his phantom life. Not for nothin', but he didn't enjoy the thought of going back out to the main room, where Gi was sitting at the bar with a fake ID, racking up a tab, to admit that he had screwed the pooch.

"I'm in," he said coolly, tossing a chip to the center of the table. It landed with a soft clatter among the others already collected there.

"The girl? I don't pay, Dean."

He hadn't meant the girl, and Sam had known it. Playing dumb and innocent had been one of Sam's primary moves since he could talk. Dean had waited decades for him to grow out of it. He was still waiting.

Focus, Dean, focus, he let the methodical slap of the cards being dealt drown out the conversation in his head.

Picking up his hand, he fanned the cards. Pair of nines, not bad for a start, not great either. With the slightest motion of his eyes, he glimpsed over the top of his cards, taking stock of the other players. They all had names, but Dean hadn't bothered to remember them. This wasn't a pleasure trip. It was a trip to the ATM. You don't humanize your prey.

He had been riding the brake so far, holding back, throwing the occasional hand, letting everyone demonstrate their tells while he performed a set of false ones for them to pick up on. Now, going into the second hour, the game would begin.

Ball cap was pointedly rearranging his cards. He had something with potential, but tricky to play.

Fat guy was wearing an exaggerated poker face, too forced, too unnatural. He was already thinking about the next hand, having given up on this one. His hand was garbage. If the pickups didn't save him, he'd fold.

Dean shifted a bit in his seat and moved on to glasses and wondered if the guy was ever going to figure out that, from the right angle, Dean could read his hand in the reflection. He was going to have to make a choice between playing it safe on the pair of fives, or taking a chance on a possible flush.

That left necktie, stifling a smile. He was holding something hot.

The pile of chips grew as the bets passed from one player to the next around the table. Discards got tossed and fresh cards were dealt out to replace them. Glasses threw away one of his fives to buy a chance on the flush. It didn't come in and he folded. Fat guy did too, with a disgusted grumble, just like Dean thought he would.

That left ball cap, obviously wrestling with a decision and necktie, chewing on his lower lip.

Dean let his three fresh cards lay where they had landed. No sense in giving anything away before he had to. It was time to rattle some cages.

"Something funny?" he asked necktie conversationally.

"That's not funny, Sam. To bring me back. What'd it cost you? Was it just your soul, or was it something worse?"

Oh hell, he hadn't even thought of that. Could Sam have done this somehow? It would be a crap deal, bringing him back to a world where his past didn't seem to exist except as a pile of bad pulp fiction. Sam was way too smart to go for that. But, a spell that had gone sideways, maybe?

"Funny you haven't picked up your cards yet, funny like strange." necktie snipped, "You don't want to see what you got? Or maybe you already know."

"You figure I'm cheating?" Dean asked with a chuckle, "Dude, how am I gonna cheat? It's not even my deal."

"You think I made a deal?"

"That's exactly what we think."

"Guys, be cool," glasses jumped in, "Nobody's accusing nobody of nothing." He looked over at Dean, "You finishing the hand, or not?"

Dean shook his head to clear away the voices. "Yeah, I'm in." he said, reaching for the cards as if it was a favor to the other players. Another nine boosted his hand to three of a kind. He left it where it was instead of rearranging the cards to group it with the others. No clues, let them wonder.

He sneaked glances at the two remaining players. Ball cap's face was knitted up in indecision. Probably had a mid-grade hand and was wondering how far it would carry him. Necktie, oh that prick was holding something sweet, nearly gouging a hole in his lip trying to contain the smile.

Dean dropped his eyes back to his three nines. It was a losing hand. He was going to have to bluff his way through. "Looks like you've got no room at the inn." he said to necktie, "Maybe hosting a royal reception?"

"You want to find out, you'll have to pay the cover." necktie responded smugly.

"I'm out." ball cap's card slapped onto the table.

Dean didn't react, one down. "Looks like it's just you and me, high roller." he said, keeping his eyes focused hard on the other man. They call it Poker, but Dean had learned a long time ago what it really is, playing Chicken without the cars.

"Twenty," necktie said, tossing a couple of chips into the pot.

"See it," Dean shot back without hesitation, not even a glimpse at his cards. "Just twenty?" he asked, "You're not as sure of your hand as I thought. Raise you fifty." He shoved a stack of chips forward.

Necktie flinched, just for a second, less than a second, hard to catch, but Dean did, like a neon sign. It was already over. Now, it was just a question of how much more money the guy wanted to throw away. The hard eye of a hunter sent a clear, unspoken warning to the other man, "I'm not lying."

"Don't you lie to me."

"I'm not lying."

Damn it, brain, not now. I'm in the middle of something.

"So what, I'm off the hook and you're on? You some demon's bitch boy?"

Shut up, just shut up! I can't think about that right now.

"You gonna see my raise?" Dean asked, making it sound a lot like, "You gonna pussy out?"

"Yeah, I'll see it," necktie snarled, "and fifty back to you."

"Hundred dollar limit, Carl. You know that." glasses broke in.

Dean waved him off. "Oh, it's just me and Maverick, here. I think we can say screw the limit for this hand, can't we, Brett? Or is it Bart? You know, I never could keep you guys straight. See and raise a hundred." He looked down at his cards intently. "No, you know what? Now that it's just us grown ups, let's skip the foreplay." With the heel of his hand, he plowed his pile of chips forward.

It was a bold move, betting everything on a losing hand, but he had this. He knew it. His hunter's instincts could smell the fear.

"I didn't want to be saved like this."

Knock it off!

"I'm all in." he said with a cold calm that betrayed none of the chaos playing in his brain, "You got the sack?"

Gasps and mutters erupted from the rest of the table. Dean watched necktie sweat under every eye in the room, while his own traveled from his cards to Dean, to the sloppy pile of chips and back to his cards.

"Take it." he said, tossing them on the table.

Dean raked in the pot. "Nice doing business with you there, Kenny Rodgers." he said, getting started on stacking the chips.

Necktie gave him a nod and a smirk pretending to be a smile.

"Deal me out." Dean said, standing up, "I gotta hit the head."

He stayed cloistered in the men's room until Sam's voice had stopped ranting in his head about devil's gates and demon deals. He would examine it all later. Right now, he had a deck to stack and money to win. Gi's plan, which he still hated, had come with a bit of a price tag attached, and it looked like he was the breadwinner in this partnership.