June 12th - June 15th, 2007

After Dean and I picked up some food, the three of us hit the road. On the drive, Sam told us that the woman who saved us from the seven sins had visited him while Dean and I were out. He found out her name was Ruby and that she was a demon. I was shocked. Dean was infuriated and had been yelling at Sam about it for a while.

"Because demon, that's why. I mean, the second you find out this Ruby chick is a demon, you go for the holy water!" Dean shouted, "You don't chat!"

"No one was chatting, Dean," Sam said.

"Oh yeah?" Dean asked, irritation in his voice. "Then why didn't you send her ass back to Hell?"

"Because— Because she said... she might be able to help us out!" Sam yelled.

Dean shook his head. "How?"

Sam was silent.

"No, really, Sam, how?" Dean asked again, "How could she possibly help us?"

"She told me she could help you, okay?" Sam asked.

Dean was silent and then glanced over at Sam like he didn't get what he was saying.

"Help you out of the crossroads deal," Sam said.

Dean looked over at Sam, stunned. "What is wrong with you, huh? She's lying, you gotta know that don't you? She knows what your weakness is... it's family." He sighed. "What else did she say?"

Sam shook his head.

"Dude?" Dean asked.

"Nothing," Sam said.

Dean looked over, fury in his eyes. I awkwardly played with my fingers, feeling downright uncomfortable.

"Nothing, okay?!" Sam yelled. "Look, I'm not an idiot, Dean, I'm not talking about trusting her, I'm talking about using her. I mean, we're at war, right? And we don't know jack about the enemy. We don't know where they are, we don't know what they're doing. I mean, hell, we don't know what they want. Now, this Ruby girl knows more than we will ever find out on our own. Now yes, it's a risk, I know that, but we need to take it."

"You're okay, right? I mean, you're feeling okay?" Dean asked.

"Yes, I'm fine. Why are you always asking me that?" Sam snapped.

Ring! Ring!

Sam sighed and checked his phone. "It's not mine."

Dean reached into his pocket and checked his. "Nope."

"Well, I don't even have one, so it's not me," I said.

"Check the glove compartment, it's Dad's," Dean said.

"Dad's?" Sam asked.

Dean nodded. "Yes, I keep it charged up in case any of his old contacts call."

Sam opened the glove compartment and grabbed the phone, "Hello?" (...) "Yes... this is Edgar Casey..." (...) "No! No, no, don't— don't call the police, I'll handle this myself." (...) "Thanks." (...) "You know, can you just, uh— can you just lock it back up for me?" (...) "Great. Um, I— I, uh, I don't have my— my book in front of me." He gestured to me for a pen, so I quickly handed him one. "Do you— Do you have the address so I can—" (...) "Sure, okay. Go ahead." He wrote the address as it was listed. "Right, thanks a lot." He hung up. "Dad ever tell you he kept a container at a storage place?"

"What?" Dean asked.

"Outside of Buffalo?" Sam asked.

Dean shook his head. "No way."

Sam nodded. "Yeah. And someone just broke into it."

After we parked the Impala, we made our way to the storage facility. Then we took the elevator down to the bottom floor.

"Man..." Dean sighed.

"What?" Sam asked.

Dean shook his head. "Just Dad. Ya know him and his secrets... spend all this time with the guy, and it's like we barely even know the man."

Sam shrugged. "Well, we're about to learn something."

Sam and Dean lifted the elevator door, and we made our way to our Dad's storage container. Dean picked the lock and opened the sliding metal door.

Once we shined our flashlights into the container, we noticed a symbol drawn in red on the dusty floor. There were also several bloody footprints all over.

"No demons allowed," Sam said.

"Blood." Dean knelt and shined his flashlight on a tripwire. "Check this out."

I followed the wire with my flashlight, which led to a shotgun that was hidden within a large animal skull.

"Whoever broke in here got tagged," Sam said.

Dean chuckled. "Dear old Dad." He shined his light on the footprints. "I got two sets of boot treads here, looks like it was a two-man job. And our friend with the buckshot in him looks like he kept walking." He stood up, and we started searching the container.

"So, what's the deal?" Sam asked, "Dad would do work here or something?"

Dean sighed. "Living the high life, as usual."

We walked around, shining our lights at the random dusty junk.

Dean picked up a trophy off of a shelf. "1995."

Sam turned around. "No way!" He grabbed the trophy. "That's my Division Championship soccer trophy. I can't believe he kept this."

Dean nodded. "Yeah..." He laughed. "It was probably about the closest you ever came to being a boy." He continued walking until he shined his light on something else. "Oh, wow!" He held up a shotgun. "It's my first sawed-off. I made it myself... sixth-grade."

I walked around and stumbled upon my old Barbie. She was sitting in her car that I had painted black, holding a rifle that I had taken from a GI Joe doll and glued in her hands. She was unique, but she was mine, and my Dad had kept her. A tear came to my eye, but I shook it off quickly. "Hey, look at this thing." I held it up.

Sam and Dean walked over with smiles on their faces.

"Oh, hey. I remember that. You loved it." Sam laughed.

Dean took the Barbie out of the car and smirked. "Yeah, you turned her into a badass." He examined her for a moment and then put her back in the car.

I smiled at it one last time and then set it down.

We continued walking through the container and found a back room. The chain on the door had been cut, and when we walked in, we realized the entire room was filled with different weaponry.

"Holy crap," Dean said.

I looked over and realized he was shining his flashlight on a table filled with different explosives.

"Look at this, he had land mines..." Dean said, "Which they didn't take. Or the guns. I guess they knew what they were after, huh?"

"Hey, check this out," Sam said.

Dean and I walked over to him. He was standing in front of a shelf filled with different boxes with symbols drawn all over them.

"See these symbols?" Sam asked. "That's binding magic. These are curse boxes."

"Curse boxes?" Dean asked, "They're supposed to keep the evil mojo in, right? Kinda like the Pandora deal?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, they're built to contain the power of the cursed object."

"Well, Dad's journal did mention a whole bunch of stuff, ya know? Dangerous hexed items, fetishes—" Dean shrugged. "He never did say where they ended up."

Sam nodded. "Yeah. Well, this must be his toxic waste dump." He shined his light over a spot where dust had settled around something that had clearly been taken. "One box is missing... great."

Dean shrugged. "Well, maybe they didn't open it."

Before we left the storage facility, we checked the security footage. We got the license plate of the people we suspected broke in, and Sam figured out where they lived.

We pulled up into an alley beside an apartment, next to another car.

Dean leaned out and checked its plates. "Connecticut. Last three digits 8-8-0."

Sam nodded. "Yep, that's it."

Dean clicked his tongue as if he were scolding them. "Should've blacked out their plates before they parked in front of the security camera..." He parked the car and turned to me. "You have to wait in the car."

"What? No." I argued, "You've let me be a part of so much lately."

Dean nodded. "Yeah, well—"

"Well, what?" I asked. "It doesn't make sense, Dean."

"My job is to keep you safe. And I haven't been doing that, that well. I mean, look at your arm," Dean said.

"Who cares about my arm? Oh wow, it'll scar, big deal," I argued.

Dean sighed. "I care."

"I don't!" I yelled.

"Hey! You listen to me right now!" Dean shouted, "I'm not going to be around for much longer, and I plan to keep you completely intact for as long as I can!"

We stared at each other for a moment.

Dean sighed. "I'll give you five bucks to stay in the car."

"Forty," I said straight-faced.

Dean raised his eyebrows. "Ten."

"Thirty," I retorted.

"Twenty," Dean said.

I thought for a moment and put my hand up. "Deal."

Dean shook my hand and took out his wallet. "I need to be more careful about what I teach you." He handed me my money, and then he and Sam got out.

Sam and Dean came back out a while later, with a rabbit's foot. They explained that it could actually be lucky. Everything that happened in the building was out of pure luck. They barely had to touch the guys in the apartment. Apparently, they basically beat themselves up.

We drove into town and parked in front of a Biggerson's Restaurant. There was a convenient store right next door. So, Dean got out and went in while Sam looked through Dad's journal.

Dean joined us a few minutes later, carrying a paper bag.

"I'm not finding anything on it in Dad's journal." Sam sighed.

Dean pulled out several scratch cards from the bag and held them up in front of Sam.

"Dean, come on." Sam scoffed.

"What?!" Dean laughed. "Hey, that was my gun he was aiming at your head, and my gun don't jam. So that was a lucky break. Not to mention them taking themselves out, also a lucky break." He handed Sam a card. "Here, scratch one. Come on, Sam, scratch and win!"

Sam rolled his eyes but took the card and scratched it. "Dean, it's gotta be cursed somehow. Otherwise, Dad wouldn't have locked it up." He handed the card back.

Dean looked at the card carefully. "Twelve-hundred bucks..." He gasped. "You just won twelve-hundred bucks!" He laughed. "I don't know, man, it doesn't seem that cursed to me!" He handed Sam another card.

"Sam's right, don't you think that something that powerful is gonna have side effects or something?" I asked.

Dean nodded. "Yeah, money."

I rolled my eyes.

After Sam finished scratching the cards, we got out of the car. While Dean calculated our winnings, Sam called Bobby.

"Oh, man!" Dean laughed happily.

Sam sighed. "Now look, Bobby, we didn't know." (...) "Well, Dad never told us about this thing. I mean, you knew about his storage place at Black Rock?" (...) "It's a hell of a luck charm." (...) "Well, so I won't lose it, Bobby." (...) "Well, then, how do we break the curse?" (...) He put the phone down and sighed.

"Dude! We're up fifteen grand!" Dean yelled, with a massive smile on his face.

Sam gave a half-smile but looked worried.

We walked into the restaurant. We wanted to eat before we figured out what was going on with the rabbit's foot.

"Don't worry, Bobby'll find a way to break it. Until then, I say we hit Vegas, pull a little Rain Man. You can be Rain Man," Dean joked.

"Look, we just lay low until Bobby calls back, okay?" Sam asked and then turned to the host. "Hi, uh, table for three, please."

"Congratulations!" the host yelled and rang a bell.

"Say that again?" Dean laughed.

"You are the one-millionth guest of the Biggerson's Restaurant family!" The host handed us a huge certificate, bigger than me.

All the staff came out and swarmed us, they sang, brought us balloons, and popped confetti. Once they were done, they took our picture and brought us to our table.

Sam took out his laptop and started researching while Dean and I engorged ourselves on our free sundaes.

"Bobby's right. This lore goes way back... pure Hoodoo. You can't just cut one off any rabbit. Has to be in a cemetery, under a full moon, on a Friday the thirteenth," Sam said.

"I think from now on, we only go to places with Biggerson's," Dean said and then clutched his head from a brain freeze.

Sam and I laughed as a waitress walked over to our table with a pot of coffee. "Can I freshen you up?"

Sam looked up and smiled. "Yeah, yeah, sure. Thanks."

The waitress poured him his coffee, but as she stared and smiled at him, she spilled some on the table. "Oh!"

"Oh! Oh, I uh..." Sam smiled.

"Let me mop up here." The waitress nervously pulled out a cloth.

"No, no, don't worry, it's okay, it's okay... I got it, uh..." Sam said as he tried to wipe it with a napkin.

"It's no trouble, really." The waitress smiled at him.

"Okay." He smiled back, shyly.

"Sorry about that." She giggled.

Sam nodded and smiled. "It's all right."

The waitress finished cleaning and walked away. Dean and I stared at Sam after the awkward, flirty exchange.

"Dude. If you were ever gonna get lucky..." Dean said.

Sam smirked. "Shut up."

"Why? Every time. I mean, can't you guys just leave our waitresses alone?" I asked.

Sam laughed and went to pick up his coffee, but instead knocked it over and managed to spill it on the table and himself. He jumped up. "Oh! Oh jeez, uh..." He turned, and a waiter with a tray full of dishes crashed straight into him, sending things flying and causing a scene. "Sorry!" he shouted and then turned back to us.

Dean and I stared at Sam, not having any idea what had just happened.

Sam reached into his pocket and looked up, terrified. "The rabbit's foot is gone."

"Son of a bitch," Dean said.

We ran out of the restaurant, looking for our waitress, but she was nowhere in sight.

Dean gestured for us to go to the car. "Come on!"

Sam and I ran after Dean, but Sam fell flat on his face in the middle of the parking lot.

Dean turned around. "Wow! You suck!"

I burst out in laughter, no longer able to hold it in.

Sam slowly stood up and looked at me. "Thanks." He looked down at his knees that were now scuffed and bloody. "Ow..."

"So, what, now your luck turns bad?" Dean asked.

Sam sighed and shrugged. "I guess."

Dean looked worried. "I wonder how bad?"

Later, we found out from Bobby that one of the guys they had fought earlier had died and that they had been hired by someone to steal the foot.

We went back to the apartment, this time, Dean let me go with them because he needed extra eyes on Sam. When we walked up to the apartment, Dean easily opened the door because it was unlocked, and we walked in.

A man was sitting in a chair, completely drunk. "Oh, man. What do you want?"

"Heard about your friend. That's bad luck," Dean said.

"Piss off," the man slurred.

Dean chuckled. "We know someone hired you to steal the rabbit's foot. A woman."

"Oh yeah? How do you know that?" the man asked.

Dean shrugged. "Because she just stole it back from us."

The man laughed.

Sam stepped forward. "Listen, man, this is seri—" He tripped on a wire on the floor, pulling a CD player off of a shelf which sent it and himself crashing to the floor. On his way down, he put his hand out and took a lamp down with him as well.

I choked back laughter.

Dean didn't even look back. "Sam, you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm good!" Sam yelled and then got up.

The man smirked.

"I want you to tell us her name," Dean said.

"Screw you." The man laughed.

Dean sighed. "It wasn't a freak accident that killed your partner."

The man furrowed his brow. "What?"

"It was the rabbit's foot," Dean explained.

The man scoffed. "You're crazy, man."

"You know I'm not. You saw what happened, what it did. All the flukes, all the luck. When you lose the foot, that luck goes sour. That's what killed your friend." Dean pointed to Sam. "And my brother here is next. And who knows how many more innocent people after that. Now, if you don't help us stop this thing, that puts those deaths on your head."

The man dropped his smirk and looked worried.

"Now, I can read people..." Dean said, "And I get it. You're a thief, and a scumbag, that's fine. But you're not a killer. Are you?"

"No," the man whispered.

The man told us that the woman who hired them was named Bela Lugosi. I thought the name sounded really familiar but just shrugged it off.

As we left the building, Dean called Bobby, "Hello?" (...) "Bobby, that's uh, great, 'cept Sam, uh— Sam lost the foot."

I looked over at Sam as he groaned. He was looking at the bottom of his shoe, which had a massive chunk of gum stuck to it.

"Bobby, Bobby, listen," Dean continued, "This, uh, this hot chick stole it from him." (...) "I'm serious." (...) "In her mid-twenties, and she was sharp ya know, good enough at the con to play us."

Sam walked over and started to scrape the bottom of his shoe on a broken storm drain.

"And she only gave the guy she hired a name, probably an alias or something." Dean looked over at Sam and me. "Uh, Luigi, or something?"

"Lugosi," Sam and I said in unison.

Sam scraped his shoe a little harder, which ended up pulling his shoe off.

"Bela Lugosi? That's cute," Dean said.

As Sam's shoe splashed down in the drain, he peered down, looking completely lost.

"Oh, Sam..." I said, looking at him with sympathetic eyes.

"Well, she knew about the rabbit's foot. Is she a hunter?" Dean asked. (...) "Uh, I guess she's back." (...) "Great." (...) "Thanks, Bobby. Again." He hung up and then looked over at Sam, who looked back defeated. "What?"

"I lost my shoe," Sam said sadly.

Dean looked down at Sam's foot, which now only had a sock on it. He sighed, rolled his eyes, and turned toward the Impala. Sam put his head down and followed behind Dean. I patted his back sympathetically.

On our way to a motel, Bobby called back with more information on Bela.

"All right, Bobby, thanks. Hey, we owe ya another one," Dean said and then hung up. "All right, Bobby's got it on pretty good authority that this Bela chick... lives in Queens. So, it'll take me about two hours to get there."

"So, what are we doing here?" Sam asked.

"You, my brother, are staying here 'cause I don't want your bad luck getting us killed." Dean smiled back at me in the rear-view mirror. "And you, my beautiful baby sister, are gonna babysit."

I thought for a minute and then shrugged in agreement.

After Dean parked, we checked in and made our way to the room.

"What are we even supposed to do, Dean?" Sam asked.

"Nothing! Nothing. Come here. I don't want you doing anything. I want you to sit right here..." Dean pulled a chair into the middle of the room. "And don't move, okay? Don't turn on the light, don't turn off the light. Don't even scratch your nose."

Sam sat down, looking pitiful.

Dean put his hand on my shoulder. "Keep a close eye on him. All right?"

I nodded. "All right."

"Good." Dean smiled. "Everyone happy?"

I shrugged, and Sam just stared sadly at the floor. Dean left and locked the door behind him.

We decided to watch some TV for a while since there was nothing else to do.

"Okay, I have to go to the bathroom real quick," I said and then got up. "Don't move."

"I know." Sam pouted.

I quickly ran to the bathroom, did my business, and then left right after I was done washing my hands. However, when I walked out, the AC unit on the wall had started billowing smoke.

"Sam, I was in there for like five seconds! What happened?!" I yelled.

"Oh, come on, I— I didn't— I wasn't—" Sam said with desperation in his voice.

I sighed. "I'm sorry. I know it's not your fault, but what do I do?"

"I don't know. Check if it's off first," Sam instructed.

I walked over and examined it. "It's already off." I turned to look at him, but then felt a sudden burst of heat behind me and turned around to see that the unit had caught fire. "Uh... Sam! What do I do?!"

"Okay, I'm not watching this anymore." Sam got up and grabbed the comforter off of the bed.

I stepped in front of him. "No, you can't."

I gasped and jumped out of the way when the flame burst and grew larger.

Sam stepped forward and started smothering the flame with the blanket. He finally got it to stop and stood up. "See? Nothing happened." He smiled at me, but then his jacket sleeve caught fire.

"Sam! You're on fire!" I screamed.

He gasped and grabbed the curtain, but as he did, it sent the metal curtain rod flying straight down at my face. It hit me with a hard thud on the bridge of my nose, and I fell into pitch black.

I woke up with my hands tied to a chair. "What the?" I struggled at the ropes.

"Oh, she's awake too!"

I looked up to see two men, one with dark brown hair and the other with light red hair, smiling in front of me.

"I'm so sorry, Maddison. I don't know what happened," Sam apologized. He was tied to a chair next to me.

"We didn't even have to touch you." The brunette laughed at Sam. "You just went spastic and knocked both of you out. It was like watching Jerry Lewis try to stack chairs!"

"Who are you?" Sam asked, "What do you wa—"

The redhead snapped his fingers in Sam's face. "I used to think your friend Gordon sent me."

I groaned and rolled my eyes.

"Gordon? Oh, come on!" Sam yelled.

"Yeah, because he asked me to track you down and put a bullet in your brain." The redhead pointed at Sam.

"Great." Sam scoffed. "That sounds like him."

"But as it turns out..." The redhead sighed. "I'm on a mission from God." He punched Sam in the face.

He continued beating Sam, and with every punch, I begged him to stop until he knocked Sam out. The redhead sat down on the bed next to Sam with bloody knuckles and just stared at him.

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" I screamed.

"You got a smart mouth for a little girl." The redhead smirked.

"Screw you, dude!" I yelled and then started struggling with my ties again.

He laughed, and then the brunette walked over with a glass of water and splashed it on Sam's face.

Sam woke up with a gasp.

"You were a part of that demon plan to open the gate, weren't you?" the redhead asked.

"We did everything we could to stop it," Sam said.

"Lie, lie, lie!" The redhead stood up and pointed in Sam's face. "You were in on it. You know what their next move is, too, don't you?"

"No, I don't, okay? You're wrong about all of this," Sam said.

"Where are they gonna hit us next?" the redhead asked.

Sam sighed and stayed silent.

He punched him in the face again. "Where?! Gordon told me about you, Sam. About your powers. You're some kinda weirdo psychic freak?"

"No, not anymore." Sam shook his head. "I— No powers, no visions, nothing, it just—"

"Liar!" The redhead punched him again.

"Stop! I screamed.

"Now, no more lies. There's an army of demons out there pushing at a world already on the brink. We're on deck for the endgame here, right? So maybe, just maybe you can understand..." The redhead drew his gun and pointed it at Sam's head. "We can't take chances."

"Please... please don't," I begged.

"Whoa, okay, okay, no, do— Hold on a minute!" Sam shouted.

The brunette stepped forward. "Hey, Kubrik just—"

"No, you saw what happened, Creedy." Kubrik turned to Creedy. "Ask yourself, why are we here? Because you saw a picture on the web? Because we chose this motel instead of another? Luck like that doesn't just happen."

Sam sighed. "Look, I can explain all of that if—"

"Shut up!" Kubrik pointed at Sam, still looking at Creedy. "It's God, Creedy. He led us here for one reason. To do His work. This... is destiny." He raised his gun back to Sam's forehead.

"No!" I yelled.

Another gun cocked behind the men.

"Nope. No destiny. Just a rabbit's foot," Dean said.

Kubrik looked at Dean, his gun still raised at Sam. "Put the gun down, son, or you're gonna be scraping brain off the wall."

"Oh, this thing?" Dean asked.

Kubrik nodded. "Yeah, that thing."

Dean shrugged. "Okay." He set the gun down on the table beside him. "But you see, there's something about me that you don't know."

"Yeah?" Kubrik asked as he turned, now pointing the gun at Dean. "What would that be?"

"It's my lucky day." Dean smirked and tossed a pen down the barrel of Kubrik's gun.

I raised my eyebrows, impressed.

Dean laughed happily and looked at Sam and me. "Oh my god, did you see that shot?!"

Creedy lunged at Dean, but as he attempted to punch him, Dean stepped to the side. Creedy ran straight into the wall, fell backward, and passed out on the floor. Kubrik stared at the pen in shock for a moment and then dislodged it.

"I'm amazing." Dean smiled.

As Kubrik aimed his gun, Dean picked up the TV remote and threw it at Kubrik's head, knocking him out cold.

"I'm Batman," Dean said with a suave expression.

"Yeah. You're Batman," Sam said sarcastically.

We went to a cemetery, where we got ready to rid ourselves of the rabbit's foot.

As Sam finished adding the final ingredients to some embers that he had created, Dean stood there with more scratch cards.

"All right." Sam sighed. "Bone ash, cayenne pepper, that should do it."

"One second..." Dean said as he scratched his last one.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Dean, you—"

"Hey, back off, jinx. I'm bringing home the bacon." Dean smirked and stashed them in his jacket, which was sitting on top of a gravestone. He held up the rabbit's foot when he came back. "All right, say goodbye 'wascally wabbit'."

The sound of a gun cocked, and we all turned to see the waitress, who we now knew was Bela, standing behind us. This time she had long brunette hair instead of short black hair.

"I think you'll find that belongs to me. Or ya know, whatever... put the foot down, honey," she demanded.

"No." Dean shook his head. "You're not going to shoot anybody. See, I happen to be able to read people. Okay, you're a thief, fine, but you're not—"

Bela ignored Dean and shot Sam in the shoulder. Sam groaned in pain and went down.

"Son of a..." Dean said and started to charge Bela.

"Back off, tiger. Back off. You make one more move, and I'll pull the trigger," Bela warned.

Sam stood up, clutching his shoulder.

"You've got the luck, Dean. You, I can't hit. Your sister? Well, I'm a pretty good shot." Bela shrugged. "But your brother? Him, I can't miss."

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" Dean yelled as he pulled me behind him. "You don't just go around shooting people like that!"

"Relax. It's a shoulder hit, I can aim. Besides, who here hasn't shot a few people?" Bela asked.

I slowly raised my hand.

She rolled her eyes. "Put the rabbit's foot on the ground now!"

Dean put his hands up. "All right! All right. Take it easy." He went to drop the rabbit's foot but instead tossed it to Bela. "Think fast."

Bela caught it out of instinct, and then realization crossed her face. "Damn!"

"Now, what do you say we destroy that ugly-ass piece of dead thing?" Dean asked.

Bela sighed in annoyance and walked over, dropping the rabbit's foot into the embers. "Thanks very much. I'm out one and a half million, and on the bad side of a very powerful, fairly psychotic buyer."

"Wow. I really don't feel bad about that. Maddi?" Dean asked.

I shook my head. "Nope."

"Sam?" Dean asked.

"Not even a little," Sam said, still clutching his shoulder.

"Hmm." Bela walked over and leaned on the gravestone with Dean's jacket. "Maybe next time, I'll hang you out to dry."

Dean shook his head. "Oh, don't go away angry, just go away."

Bela smirked. "Have a nice night."

We gathered our things and made our way to the Impala.

Dean put his arm around my shoulders. "What happened? You've got a nice little gash on your nose right there." He put his finger on it.

I pushed his hand away and elbowed him in the stomach. "Ow, don't touch it." I sighed and smirked up at Sam. "I got into a tussle with a curtain rod."

Dean furrowed his brow at me. Sam smirked and looked down, ashamed.

Dean pointed to Sam's shoulder. "You good?"

Sam sighed. "I'll live."

Dean shrugged. "I guess we're back to normal now, huh? No good luck, no bad luck. Oh! I forgot we're up $46,000. I almost forgot about the..." He reached into his jacket pocket. "Scratch tickets—" He made a weird face and then realized they were gone.

Bela's car roared in the distance, and she honked at us before zooming off. The three of us looked at each other and sighed.

"Son of a bitch!" Dean yelled, causing an echo to sweep through the cemetery.