The Curious Case of Dean Winchester

Sam, Dean, and Michelle were standing in the hospital, dressed in their suits, holding up their CDC badges to a doctor who was currently eyeing them skeptically.

"You expect me to believe you're CDC?" the doctor raised an eyebrow at them.

"Excuse me?" Sam asked as he exchanged a look with Dean and Michelle.

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

"New administration," Michelle said quickly.

"A change you can believe in," Dean agreed, sending a smile at the doctor.

"Right," she eyed Dean a moment before leading them to the morgue. She pulled out a body on a slab to reveal what looked like an 80-year-old man, "Meet Xavier. Date of birth, April 3rd, 1984," she looked up to see the trio staring at the body of the old man in confusion and shock, "I know. I ran the DNA twice. That's definitely him."

"Well, he wasn't big on the sunscreen, huh?" Dean remarked.

"So, what's your theory?" Sam asked.

The doctor sighed, "All I know is, deceased's male, 25-years-old, and he died of old age."

She shook her head and walked off, leaving the trio to share a meaningful look.

~8~

They headed out of the morgue, Dean on the phone with Bobby, "You were right about this one. It's definitely a job."

"Thought so," Sam and Michelle could hear Bobby reply, "Any other stiffs in town?"

"Just the one body," Dean replied.

"Anything else?"

"Couple missing persons, but usual for a town this size," Dean shrugged.

"Well, check 'em out."

"You think they're connected?" Dean asked, glancing at Sam and Michelle.

"Call it a hunch."

Dean looked at Sam and Michelle, who nodded, "You got it. And, by the way, how you doing?"

"Doing?"

"Yeah," Dean said slowly, seeing Michelle and Sam shaking their heads quickly, "You know, just...in general?"

"Oh, you mean my legs," Bobby's grim reply came, "Well, I'm just weepin' in my Haagen-Dazs. Idjit."

And then Bobby hung up.

"Idiot…" Michelle muttered.

Dean looked up to see her shaking her head at him, "What?"

~8~

They'd gone to visit one of the people who had sent out a missing person's reports, an old woman, Mrs. Whitlow. Dean was sitting on an ottoman while Sam took an armchair, Michelle standing between them as Mrs. Whitlow handed Dean a picture of her husband, Cliff, the missing person.

"That's the most recent," she said as Dean handed it to Michelle, who looked at it and passed it to Sam. Cliff was at a golf tournament, holding up his club and trophy, a USMC tattoo on his right arm.

"How long has he been missing?" Michelle asked the woman.

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

"Is there someplace he likes to go after work, maybe?" Sam tried, "A favorite bar?"

Mrs. Whitlow laughed, "No. Tuesdays, he always works a bit late, but he always comes straight home."

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

The woman nodded and pointed towards a hallway. Sam and Michelle watched him leave, knowing he was heading out to find some evidence while they continued to talk to Mrs. Whitlow.

~8~

Dean had found a receipt for a place, Madame Liu's Golden Palace, for over $250, in one of Cliff's jackets. And since it was the only lead they had, they decided to check it out that night.

They walked down a corridor as Sam commented, "Well, at least he's consistent. Same room every Tuesday, hourly rates."

"Hope I got that kind of kick when I'm his age," Dean remarked.

"Yeah," Sam scoffed, "Like either of us will live that long."

"Oh you will," Michelle nudged him in the ribs, "I'll make sure of it."

Dean had to admit, they did seem to have less trouble when Michelle hunted with them. Hell, when it had been him and her hunting when Sam took a break, he'd barely gotten injured, and even then it wasn't more than a scrape or a bruise. And that girl…she knew how to take care of herself…and them…at the same time. He didn't doubt she would make sure they lived to a ripe old age…if only to be the one dragging them on hunts instead.

"True," Dean smiled at her.

"So...what do you think's in there?" she asked, getting back to point and nodding at the door down the hall.

"A wrinkly, gooey corpse," Dean answered as they stopped outside Room 44.

Sam pulled out his lockpick kit while Dean and Michelle kept watch. He'd barely leaned down when someone inside the room, a man, started screaminging.

"Oh, God!" the man shouted, "Oh, God! Oh! Oh, God!"

Sam and Dean exchanged a single glance before slamming the door open.

"Hey!" a man yelled, "What the…"

Their eyes widened as they saw a young man, most likely naked, lying in bed with a barely dressed woman next to him.

"Oh…" Sam gaped as Michelle turned around to cover her eyes.

"God," Dean agreed.

Just then another woman popped up from under the covers.

"Well…it's gooey," Michelle commented from behind them.

The women fled the bed and ran into the bathroom.

"Sorry," Dean began, "Uh, got the wrong room."

"Close the door!" the man shouted.

Dean turned and nudged Michelle out the door, Sam about to turn when he noticed something.

"Hey…" Sam began. Dean and Michelle turned to see Sam staring at the man's arm, a USMC tattoo on it, just like Cliff's, "Nice tattoo," he stepped more into the room, Dean and Michelle exchanging a look before standing in the doorway, blocking it should the man try to run, "Happen to know anybody named Cliff Whitlow?"

The man shook his head, "Never heard of him."

"Well, that's weird," Sam replied, picking up the man's wallet on a table and pulling out an ID, "'Cause you're carrying his wallet."

Dean looked over at Michelle, who nodded and shut the door, standing before it with her arms crossed, as he walked over to Cliff and lifted the covers to look underneath it.

"Huh," Dean remarked, dropping the sheets, "Your wife told us about your, uh, birthmark there. That's nice. Well, you look great Cliff. Did you get some work done?"

Cliff shook his head and sighed, "Could you give us some privacy?"

Dean looked over to see the two women from before now robed and standing in the bathroom doorway. He winked at them a moment before glaring at Cliff.

~8~

Cliff was finally clothed, wearing a robe, as he handed one of the women some money as they left. He shut the door and turned to face the trio standing behind him.

"Please don't tell my wife," Cliff began quickly.

"Slow down," Dean held up his hands.

"I'm begging you," the man continued, "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 Whitlow?" Michelle frowned, eyeing him. This was some seriously powerful magic if it could reverse his years.

The man was silent.

"I believe this nice woman asked you a question," Dean eyed him with a hard look.

"I can't tell you," Cliff sighed.

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

"Ok! Ok! It was a game."

"Like...XBox?" Sam frowned.

"What's XBox?" Cliff looked confused before shaking his head, "No. Poker. High stakes. Instead of cash, you play for years."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Dean asked.

"Look, I know it sounds crazy. Guy comes up to me at a bar, invites me to play. Gives me 25 of these weirdo poker chips, right? Chants some mumbo jumbo over them, says now they're 25 years. I'm laughing, but then I come out up. And look at me!" he held his arms out.

"What was he chanting?" Sam shook his head.

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

"What does he look like?" Michelle asked seriously, this was a dangerous game to play.

"Just a guy," he shrugged, "Maybe 35, brown hair. Irish accent. His name was Patrick."

"Alright, alright," Dean cut in, "Where's this game at?"

"He said he likes to keep moving," Cliff sighed, "Never stays in one bar long. And he finds you."

"Thank you Cliff," Dean nodded as they headed for the door. Sam and Michelle stepped out when Dean turned around for one more word with the man, "Oh, and, uh...stay classy."

~8~

They were walking down the street the next day, Dean talking to Bobby, "It sounds crazy, right?"

"Did you ask Michelle about it?" was Bobby's reply.

Michelle laughed and leaned over, Dean holding the phone up so she could talk, "I already told them about the centuries old lore, you know, the traveling card player who pops into town and if you beat him, you get your best years back."

Bobby laughed, "'Course, most folks lose."

"Well, that would explain the crunchy corpse," Dean rolled his eyes, pulling the phone back.

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

"There's a lot of dives in this town," Dean sighed, "We're gonna have to split up."

"Well, why you still talking to me?"

Bobby hung up once again.

~8~

Dean was on the phone with Sam later that night, sitting in a bar, one of the many he'd visited that day. This hunt was definitely turning out to be one of the better ones, not quite as great as the stripper hunt for the siren, but still, being able to just go to bars all day ranked pretty high on his list.

"Find anything?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, a whole bunch of squat," Dean replied, "You?"

"No, not a thing. And Dean…you may want to keep out of Michelle's way."

"Why?" he frowned.

"She's on a war path. Last I heard 7 guys hit on her," Dean snorted, "It's not funny Dean, the last one is currently in the hospital!"

"Yeah?" he shook his head, "What's it got to do with me?"

"You told her to go to those bars Dean," Sam reminded him, "Why do you always do that?"

Dean smirked. He did tend to assign the bars with the more…rambunctious…men for Michelle to check out. It was always a laugh to see her all riled up and recounting the various things the men had attempted and what she'd done to them.

"Do you seriously have a death wish?" Sam continued, "You really need to stop!"

"Oh lighten up Sammy," Dean shook his head, "She's fine and those dicks probably needed some sense beaten into them anyway."

"Well then do it for me ok?" Sam sighed, "I…I don't like even the thought of those guys trying to touch her."

"Fine," he rolled his eyes, "But I'm not gonna stop for you. I'm gonna stop because I find it more amusing to watch her beat the crap outta them and I'm missing out on an entertaining sight."

"Whatever," he could hear the head shake in his brother's words.

"Alright," Dean said, getting back to point, "Well, check out that last place, you come up dry, call Michelle and then circle back to the motel in two. Your turn to grab dinner."

"Usual?" Sam asked.

"Extra bacon," he smirked before clicking the phone closed.

~8~

Sam couldn't keep the smile off his face as he and Michelle walked up to the motel. He'd gone to the last bar, found nada, and then called up Michelle to meet up with her and head back. She still had one more bar to go so he met her there. He'd gotten to the door only a moment before a man went flying through the large window next to it. He leaned over to see Michelle glaring at a bar full of men staring at her in slight awe and fear.

Apparently the man had gotten too grab-handy and her fuse was short enough after all the other bars. She looked over and saw him standing there and, much to the shock of the crowd, she'd smiled and walked over to him, only to bestow a very deep kiss to him. He was in just as much of a daze when she pulled away and tugged him off, but he managed to see the men were now wide eyed and open mouthedm shocked someone managed to land such a firecracker.

God he loved her.

He laughed to himself as he opened the door for her, she was carrying a tray of takeout with burgers and sodas.

"Hey, Dean?" Sam called as she put the tray down, "You find anything?"

"Uh, you might say," came the raspy reply.

They looked up to see an old man in a dark blue bathrobe walk into the room.

"Who the hell are you?" Sam shouted, grabbing his gun and rushing forward.

"Sam, don't!" Michelle yelled, grabbing Sam's arm and pushing it down, "It's Dean!"

"Dude, relax," Dean said at the same time, "It's me."

Sam looked between the two, before looking more at the man, he did look a lot like Dean, just…old…

"Dean?" he asked cautiously.

"Hi," Dean deadpanned.

"What the hell happened?" Sam looked him over.

"Isn't it obvious?" Michelle frowned, "He found the game."

Dean nodded as he walked past them and towards the food, picking up a burger.

"He f…you found the game?" Sam turned to watch his brother, "I thought you said you were good at poker."

"I am," Dean replied, glaring at them, "Shut up. So, you were just gonna shoot some old guy? Is that it?"

"I didn't know what you were."

"I almost didn't recognize you either," Michelle added, "I mean, have you seen you? You look like…"

"The old chick in 'Titanic,'" Dean said though a mouthful of food, "I know. Shut up."

"I was gonna say Emperor Palpatine," Sam countered.

"I was thinking Gollum," Michelle smirked, earning a laugh from Sam.

The door thudded open and Bobby rolled in, shutting it behind him, "I see you met John McCain there."

"Yeah," Sam nodded, now growing suspicious, looking between the two.

Michelle crossed her arms and fixed them with a disapproving look, "Either of you want to tell me what happened?"

The boys exchanged a look before Dean began, "Bobby's an idiot. That's what happened."

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

"Right," Dean rolled his eyes, "I should have just let you die."

"And for damn sure, nobody asked you to lose!"

"It's like 'Grumpy Old Men,'" Sam said quietly to Michelle, both of whom were watching the exchange, highly amused.

"Shut up, Sam!" both Bobby and Dean shouted at once before getting back to their bickering.

"What the hell were you thinking?" Dean turned to Bobby, "He's a witch. He's been playing poker since guys wore tights."

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

"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."

"You got me. I never been paralyzed. But I tell you something…I've been to Hell, and while I don't really remember it, I know there's an archangel there wanting me to drop the soap. Look at me! My junk's rustier than yours! You hear me bellyaching? Huh?"

"Yup," Michelle smirked.

"Oh!" Dean dropped down into his seat, still holding the burger, "I'm having a heart attack."

Sam began to look a bit worried, when Bobby cut in, "No, you're not."

"What is it?" Dean turned to the man.

"Acid reflux?" Michelle guessed.

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

Michelle snorted as Dean looked at the burger sadly and put it down.

"So, you want to keep emoting, or you want to talk about solving this little issue of yours?" Bobby rolled his eyes at Dean, "It's got to be about the chips."

"I slid 'em across, Patrick did his little witchy number, and you prettied up in a hurry," Dean replied.

"I mean, what are you all thinking?" Sam shook his head, "Some kind of magic chips or something?"

"Definitely," Bobby nodded.

Sam sat down at the table, tugging Michelle to sit on his lap as well.

"You remember what he chanted?" Michelle asked.

"Yep…every word," Bobby smiled.

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

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

"I think you ought to put some clothes on," Bobby retorted.

"I second that," Michelle grimaced.

~8~

Dean was finally fully dressed. He'd called out earlier that he wasn't able to stretch and get his pants on and needed someone to help…but none of them were touching that with a ten foot pole, so it had taken awhile. He strode across the room to answer a knock at the door, a pretty young maid was standing there with a cart behind her and an armful of towels.

"Ready for housekeeping, sir?"

"Born ready," Dean grinned at her, leaning against the doorway.

The maid just laughed, "You're just like my grandfather," Dean's grin began to fade, "He hits on anything that moves too," the others watched in amusement as the maid stepped past him and into the room, "You're adorable."

"And dangerous," Dean tried, turning to face her.

"Aw," she cooed, laughing and heading to the bathroom.

Sam and Bobby were smirking at that while Michelle had buried her face in Sam's shoulder to try and keep from bursting out with laughter.

"Can we just go?" Dean demanded.

~8~

They all crammed into Bobby's van, watching people go by outside a building. Patrick walked out, checking his watch as he crossed the street without looking, not noticing the car headed for him until it slammed into him. The driver jumped out and ran over to check on him, before running over to a construction crew nearby for help.

"Guys, get some help!" the driver was shouting, "He came out of nowhere! Right out in front of me!"

They couldn't help but stare as another car drove past, Patrick in the driver's seat. The crew and the man stared between him and where he'd been hit as the car drove off.

Dean laughed, "I got to say, I kind of like the guy."

Bobby and Sam just stared at Dean till Michelle reached out and smacked him upside the head.

~8~

Patrick had gone to a skyscraper apartment building, the gang watching him leave the building and drive off before exchanging looks. They all piled out of the car and made their way to the building, Sam wheeling Bobby while Dean held the door open for them all to get inside.

"Well, I'm out," Bobby said as they came to the elevator, only to see an out of order sign posted to it. They looked at Bobby, who just sighed.

So Sam, Dean, and Michelle headed to the stairs. Sam and Michelle jogged up them with no difficulty, but the same could not be said for Dean, who was walking up one step at a time, looking a bit out of breath.

"Dean," Sam said, getting his attention at the landing. He just pointed to a sign with a large 'Level 2' written on it. Dean sighed as Sam continued to jog up the next stairs. He glared at the sign and then took a breath, before continuing on, determined.

He'd made it about halfway up before he'd started to waver again, breathing heavily. Michelle had headed back down the last flight and helped him up the rest. They caught up to Sam as he sorted through his lock picking kit in front of room 3701.

Sam made short work of the lock and they were stealthily entering the room and searching the place. Dean came to an armoire, knocking on the back wall until he found a hollow back. He quickly moved some things away and opened it to reveal a safe.

"Sam?" Dean hissed, Sam and Michelle came over to see the safe, "Dime-store model. Piece of cake," he began to turn the dial, squinting, leaning in and out trying to see better, but apparently his eyesight was going with his age as well.

"It's like 'Mission: Pathetic,'" Sam commented, "Watch out."

He shoved Dean aside and got to work on the dial, opening it quickly. There were quite a few poker chips in the safe among other valuables.

"I could have done that," Dean muttered.

Sam just frowned at him and began grabbing handfuls of chips out of the safe.

"Guys!" Michelle hissed just before another voice spoke.

"What are you doing?" a woman in a black dress demanded, storming into the room. They spun to face her.

Dean frowned, recognizing her, "Aren't you the chick from the bar?"

"I'm a lot more than that," she threw up her hand, clenching a fist and twisted it before anyone could react. Dean doubled over in pain just as Patrick ran into the room, putting a hand on her arm.

"It's alright sweetheart," Patrick said, "It's alright. They're harmless."

The woman dropped her hand, letting Dean go. He nearly fell to the floor but Michelle had grabbed his arm when he'd hunched over and managed to hold him up.

"You lot want chips?" Patrick stepped forward, "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 900-year-old witch. You want years? Score 'em the old-fashioned way. Texas hold 'em," he smirked, chewing on a toothpick.

"Fine," Dean glared, "Let's do it."

Patrick pulled a card out of his pocket, the eight of hearts, "What card am I holding up?" Dean squinted but couldn'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..." he glanced behind Dean at his brother.

"No, Sam," Dean said.

"Dean…" Sam began.

"What, Sam not much of a player?" Patrick smirked before shrugging, "How about you luv?" he eyed Michelle, who just glared at him, "Ok, 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," Dean headed towards it, Michelle supporting him as Sam followed, "Oh, but, Sam..." they paused and turned to face him, "Your brother's situation…that's punishment enough, but I can't let you leave without a small parting gift," he then began clapping.

"What are you doing?" Sam asked.

"You'll find out soon enough," was all Patrick said.

"Let's get out of here, Sam" Dean said, continuing on as Patrick shut the door behind them.

~8~

Michelle held the door open for Sam and Dean to get outside, frowning as Sam began to scratch the inside of his thighs.

"Dude..." Dean began, smirking, as his brother turned to him, "I believe that he-witch gave you the clap."

Michelle snorted as Sam went stiff for a moment before marching off, leaving Dean laughing behind him.

~8~

Dean, Sam, Bobby, and Michelle were heading towards the motel the next morning, walking up an incline as Bobby stopped.

"Little help here?" he called to them.

They stopped and Sam went down to push Bobby up, Dean and Michelle walking on either side of him.

"You know, I still think I should play," Sam began.

Bobby took over rolling for himself at the top of the incline and immediately turned to face Sam as Dean and Michelle stopped walking as well.

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

"Exactly," Bobby agreed.

"So, what?" Sam rolled his eyes, "So I don't get a say in this anymore?"

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

"You're 30, Dean," Michelle reminded him.

"Look, I've watched you hustle plenty of poker…" Sam tried again.

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

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

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

"No, Bobby," Michelle shook her head, "You don't have enough years in the bank."

"I got enough!"

"No, you'll die if you lose, Bobby," Sam agreed with Michelle.

"So what if I do, huh?" Bobby snapped, "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…" Dean began.

"No, no. It's the facts. I'm old...and broke down...and I can't..."

"Those who can't do," Michelle quoted, "Teach."

Bobby tried to smile at the girl a moment but couldn't muster it, "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."

Dean and Sam were stunned by that admission.

Michelle was nothing of the sort.

"You listen to me Bobby Singer," she stepped forward, a frown on her face, "If you did that I would have hunted your spiritual ass down and brought you back just so I could kill you myself. And I will do that if you even think that again, understood?"

Bobby said nothing.

"Bobby, you are not playing again," Sam said after a moment.

"We're not letting you do that," Michelle agreed, stepping back and taking Sam's hand, he gave her a small smile.

"There's another way out of this. There's got to be. And I'm gonna find it."

He walked off with Michelle, leaving Dean and Bobby to stand there in thought.

~8~

Sam and Michelle walked into the back room of a bar to see Patrick at a game with an older man.

"Thanks Patrick," the older man was saying.

Patrick looked up and saw them there, a smirk playing on his face, "Hesh here is gonna live to see his granddaughter's bat mitzvah. Isn't that right, Hesh?"

"Thanks again, Patrick," the older man collected the chips.

"Shalom, my friend. Shalom."

Hesh got up and left, walking quickly past Sam and Michelle, who looked back at Patrick as he shuffled his cards.

"That was nice of you," Michelle commented, eyeing him.

"I'm a nice guy," Patrick defended, still shuffling, "What can I do you for?"

Sam glanced at Michelle, who nodded and they both sat down before Patrick, "Deal," Sam said.

Patrick smirked, "Two against one? Isn't that a bit of an unfair advantage?"

"Think of it as a challenge," Michelle corrected.

Patrick's smirk widened, "Oh you are something special, I can tell."

"Are we in or not?" Sam demanded lightly.

Patrick nodded.

~8~

Patrick was chewing his toothpick, a glass of whiskey on the table before him, a pair of cards in his hand along with several stacks of chips. There were a few chips piled in the middle of the table next to a four of diamonds, a red court card, a black seven, a three of hearts, and a black two.

Patrick pulled his toothpick from his lips, "I like you two," Sam scoffed at that, "I do Sam. You're smart and your heart's clearly in the right place."

Sam didn't answer.

Patrick threw down his toothpick and drank his whiskey, "I can tell a lot about a guy by looking."

"You mean you're psychic."

"No," Patrick shook his head, "That'd be cheating. I'm talking about good old-fashioned intuition," he smirked, "Like…I know you've got a damn near perfect poker face luv."

Sam looked up, startled, only to see Patrick wasn't looking at him, but at Michelle. He turned, his eyes widening a fraction at the stone-cold expression on Michelle's face. It was void of emotion, completely down to business. There wasn't even the usual spark he could see in her eyes.

"You really close it all down, don't you?" Patrick continued, "Seal it all up. I wonder, what sort of upbringing you need to be able to do that?"

Michelle didn't answer, didn't so much as flinch at his words. No reaction at all, save tossing a few chips into the pile.

Sam was impressed, when they had dealt with Jesse, she'd mentioned how she'd been raised to put her emotions on a shelf when things depended on it. But this…he'd never seen her like this before, glimpsed at the soldier within but he'd never seen it full-force like now.

"Let's just play," Sam turned back to Patrick, the sooner this was over, the sooner he'd have his Michelle back.

"We are playing," Patrick commented, taking another swig of whiskey before putting it down next to the toothpick, "Does your big brother know you're here?"

"Bet five," Sam replied, stacking five chips onto the pile from his own small pile. Both he and Michelle had fewer chips than Patrick.

"Didn't think so," Patrick replied, putting one stack of five on another and adding that 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, trying not to let Patrick notice his slight jump. He could see a hand on his knee, it was Michelle. Even as closed off as she was being towards Patrick, she was still trying to comfort him while not giving anything away. He reached down slowly and placed his hand on top of hers.

"You're not the little brother anymore, Sam," Patrick continued, toying with some chips. Sam looked up, "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."

"To kick his ass," Michelle cut in, Sam almost flinched at how emotionless even her voice was, "You'd have to get through me first," she tossed a few more chips in.

Sam squeezed Michelle's hand, focusing on Patrick, "Does this armchair-psychology routine usually work for you?"

Patrick laughed, "You tell me. You're the one who's losing," he chewed his toothpick once more as Sam squeezed Michelle's hand again before letting it go.

~8~

Patrick shuffled the cards, chewing his toothpick. Sam tossed in a few of his chips after Michelle as the woman from apartment walked in. Patrick put down his toothpick as the woman leaned in to kiss him, he pulled back and glanced at them, "Little break?"

Sam glanced at Michelle, who nodded, but remained seated. She wasn't about to leave and risk Patrick switching the cards. For all his talk of not cheating and things being good and old-fashioned, she didn't trust him.

Sam got up and headed out to the back of the bar, bursting through the doors as Dean walked over.

"How's it going in there?" he asked, really wanting to get their plan over with. Honestly, having his little brother and Michelle betting away their years scared him. But he and Bobby just needed one more ingredient to get the spell they'd been given to stop Patrick going.

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."

Sam held up a toothpick, "He was chewing it," Dean took it, "Hurry up Dean. Please."

Dean nodded quickly, seeing his brother getting flustered, "Alright. Just keep him busy. And, Sammy...don't lose."

Sam nodded and headed back inside.

Sam took his place once more, playing with his chips as Patrick sat back down. When he'd seen Michelle at the table he'd gotten up and moved a little ways away with the woman, but still close enough to keep an eye on her. The woman stood back behind Patrick, who pushed the deck of cards across the table, starting the next round.

~8~

"Question," Patrick began, looking at Sam, as he held up a toothpick, "Is this what you meant to give your big brother?"

Sam's expression didn't change as the woman's flickered to the toothpick.

"The one you gave him never passed my lips," Patrick told them, "Won't do a scrap of good," he threw the toothpick across the table, "I don't like cheating, Sam," he stretched out his hand and clenched his fist.

Sam stiffened, gasping for breath, a hand at his throat as though it would help.

Suddenly a hand reached out and grabbed Patrick's wrist, forcing it down onto the table, releasing Sam. Patrick looked over, his concentration broken, startled that someone would try to stop him, to see it was Michelle.

"Finish the game," was all she said.

Patrick eyed her a long moment, a gasping Sam looking between the two, concerned Patrick would attack her too, until Patrick sat back in his seat.

"And besides," Michelle added, "You want to do anything, do it to the one who gave us the spell."

"And who's that?" Patrick asked. Michelle's gaze just flickered behind him. Patrick turned to see the woman standing there, looking at him sadly but not denying it, "Why...why would you do that?"

"You know why," the woman said, touching her locket, "You know."

Patrick looked back down at the table before reaching out and shuffling the cards, a grim expression on his face.

Now he meant business.

~8~

There were more than a dozen chips piled in the center of the table next to the eight of hearts, queen of clubs, queen of diamonds, and the two of diamonds. Patrick discarded a card and dealt an ace of clubs. He glanced up, looking towards Sam, not even bothering to look at Michelle. The entire game he hadn't gotten a single response from her, save when he went a little too much at Sam but even then, it never gave away her game. Sam on the other hand, was sitting there with his hands folded against his mouth, nervous.

Sam stacked five chips next to Michelle's five on the pile.

"Well, look at you…the percentage player, betting the farm," Patrick commented, "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," he sniffed and picked up his cards, "I fold," he turned to glance at Michelle, who had folded as well, allowing Sam to claim the pot. He discarded his cards, "Set of ladies, I'm guessing."

Sam collected the chips and turned his cards over, a three of clubs and a five of diamonds.

Patrick quickly glanced at Michelle, having sworn he'd seen a smirk from her out of the corner of his eye, but it was gone. He turned back to Sam, more than a little surprised that Sam had gotten the best of him, "Nice bluff. If we had time, I could make a real player out of you."

"I got time," Sam replied.

Patrick grinned, "Maybe. But I can't say the same for Dean. Your brother's gonna be dead soon."

Sam looked up, startled, feeling a hand on his knee once more.

"And when I say 'soon...'" Patrick leaned forward, "I mean minutes."

Sam's expression completely morphed to a fearful one and he stood up. Patrick extended his fist and yanked him back down to his seat with his powers.

"The game's not over till I say it is," Patrick glared, "Blinds."

He slapped two chips down as Sam and Michelle put in one, Sam reaching down to squeeze Michelle's hand before she withdrew it.

Patrick dealt two face down cards apiece, Sam and Michelle glancing at their cards before adding another chip to the pot.

"So," Patrick began, slapping down three cards and spreading them out, the ace of spades, the four of hearts, and the four of clubs. Sam eyeing the cards as Michelle just glanced at them, "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 ground out, before shoving all his chips into the middle, "I'm all in."

The woman looked startled as Patrick sighed, checking his cards, "Don't do that Sam."

Michelle just pushed all her chips in as well, not even questioning Sam's decision.

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

"Look, there's poker and then there's suicide…" Patrick started.

"Just play the hand," Michelle stated.

Patrick eyed her a moment before adding all his chips to the pot as well, "Fine," he discarded a card and dealt a seven of diamonds, and then the nine of spades.

Sam and Patrick stared each other down, Sam worried, Patrick smug, the woman nervous, and Michelle stoic.

Patrick turned over his cards, the ace of clubs and the ace of diamonds giving him three of a kind, "I'm sorry, kids. Aces full."

Sam looked down at the cards, his eyes widening, before letting out a breath and flipping over his cards, the seven of hearts and the seven of clubs, giving him a three of a kind as well, but of a lesser value than Patrick's.

"Great hand," Sam mumbled, breathlessly, staring at the cards brokenly…it was over.

"It is," Michelle admitted as Patrick moved to collect the chips, "Mine's better."

The boys both looked up, startled at that, their heads whipping to face her. Patrick's eyes widened, seeing her smirking. Sam smiled, just happy to see that the sparkle was back in her eyes. She flipped over her cards to reveal the four of diamonds and the four of spades giving her a four of a kind, the only thing that could possibly beat a three of a kind of aces.

Patrick looked between her and the cards, "Well played. You know, you're the first one I couldn't read. I was right, you are something special, aren't you?"

"Cash these in for Dean," she said, sliding the chips towards Patrick

He nodded, setting down the glass he had toasted her with, "With pleasure."

Sam laughed as soon as the chips turned to ash and grabbed Michelle, pulling her towards him for a celebratory kiss.

~8~

"No tricks?" Bobby asked, his eyes wide as he spoke to Sam, who was recounting how Dean had been returned to normal, "She actually beat the guy?"

"I gotta say Bobby," Sam shook his head, "After that, I'm NEVER playing poker against Michelle."

"You should have figured that out after the whole Jeb card trick thing," Michelle said, walking into the motel with a box of pie from the local bakery.

"How the hell?" Bobby turned to her.

"Just because I have money Bobby, doesn't me I didn't do my fair bit of hustling," she rolled her eyes, "My training was very extensive."

Sam grabbed his jacket and headed towards the door, giving Michelle a small peck on the way, "Hey. I'll see y'all guys later."

"Where you going?" Dean asked, stepping to the side to allow Sam past, holding a burger in his hands.

"Uh...nowhere."

"A booster shot," Michelle called over, laughing.

"Don't say it!" Sam threatened Dean, seeing him about to say something.

He turned and left, leaving Dean, Bobby, and Michelle in the room. She looked at the two men, sensing there was something Dean wanted to say, so she got to work getting some paper plates and cutting up the pie.

"Well, I guess we can get the van loaded," Bobby remarked.

Dean held up a finger and cleared his throat, "I shouldn't have called you an idiot."

"Which time?"

"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..."

"You'd never stop complaining."

Dean was silent a moment, staring at Bobby, "Fair enough. You're not useless, Bobby."

"Ok," Bobby rolled his eyes, "Good talk."

He made to wheel away, when Dean stepped in his path, "No, wait a minute. Listen to me," he sat down and sighed, "You don't stop being a soldier 'cause you got wounded in battle. Ok? I mean, hell look at Michelle! She's been to Hell, twice, and she keeps chugging on. And no matter what shape you're in, bottom line is, you're family. I don't know if you've noticed, but me and Sam, we don't have much left. We got you and Michelle and that's damn near it. We can't do this without you. I can't do it. So don't you dare think about checking out. I don't want to hear that again…"

Bobby was silent a long moment, "Ok."

"Ok," Dean nodded, "Good, 'cause…you know, I didn't want to have to set Michelle on you."

"Don't think I'd go easy on you either," she added, putting a slice of pie on two plates.

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

"Yeah, we're done," Dean nodded, getting up, "Let's go, Ironsides."

"Oh, that one's sticking, huh?"

"Not yet," Michelle said, walking over to them and placing a slice of pie before each of them, pushing Dean to sit back down, "Neither of you are to leave this table till you finish those slices. Is that clear?"

"Yes mother," Dean rolled his eyes as Bobby just laughed.

"Good," she smiled, "I'll load the cars, you two…just enjoy it while it lasts. 'Cause I guarantee next week I'll be back to smacking you both around."

They laughed as she walked out the door.

A/N: I honestly have no idea how to play Texas Hold 'em, so if I've screwed something up where you can't have three players, sorry! Let's just imagine there's a three-person version :)

Just a note on some reviews...this one's actually from the end of 'Purgatory,' Chuck...well...you'll find out :) Interesting theory though. Is he God? Or is he...something else? And what could he be? Not saying anything till the very end.

As for this story though, you guys are good, not saying if you're right or wrong, but you are VERY good. I guess we'll find out next chapter just how right or wrong some may be...Changing Channels! I am SO excited about it. I love the Trickster and don't forget...that last line...I really am hoping it'll make you go OMG!