Okay, I know, I suck. I told you guys I'd update faster and then I didn't. I'm really sorry. It's just life stuff keeps getting in the way. (I mean I'm sure I could fill ten pages with stuff that keeping me from writing and updating at the moment, but I won't.) Seriously, though, I've been meaning to update since Saturday, but then stuff got in the way until now. And I know this is short, but again, life stuff keeps getting in the way, so I'm not getting inspired easily.

Anyway...enjoy.

Bad Day At Black Rock
Part Two

Since Dean hadn't wanted Sam's bad luck to get us killed he'd left Sam and me in Black Rock. I thought it would've been better to take us to Queens with him, but Dean had obviously taken up my earlier train of thought: That Sam's bad luck might pass on to us if we were around him for too long, and having him in the car was an accident waiting to happen.

So now I was on Sam-setting duty. We were in the motel room doing pretty much nothing. Dean had told Sam not to move, just to sit there and not do anything. So that's what he was doing, and he was bored, and rocking back and forth in his chair. His chair that had a table behind it.

"Sam, you're gonna fall and hit your head if you keep doing that." It was like talking to a three-year-old. He wasn't three, though, he was twenty-five. Shouldn't he know better?

"I'm sorry," he said, stopping. "I'm just…bored."

"Do you wanna watch TV?" I asked. "We can watch TV."

"No, I…" He sighed. "I wanna ask you something."

"Okay. Shoot."

"Do you think we can save Dean? Or that you can? Because I've been looking and…nothing. There's nothing."

God, did I not want to talk about this.

"I don't know, Sam. I mean, if I thought I could without you dying, I would try today, but…I don't think I can. So I'm not gonna risk it."

"Hm. You mean you've not gonna risk losing Dean if you killed me in the process." He didn't sound mad or anything…he was just stating his opinion.

"Dean isn't the only one I care about, Sam," I said. "Besides, Dean won't let us try anything, remember? He doesn't want anything happening to you. I don't want anything happening to you."

"Well, what about Ruby? She said she could -"

"No," I interrupted. "Dean doesn't trust her. She's a demon. I don't even have her number on my phone anymore."

"But if she could save Dean -"

"Then, yeah, I'd use her in a heartbeat," I said. "But so far…nothing. I mean, she keeps throwing that in our faces, but she knows that's what we want." More than anything in the world.

Two hours later Sam's boredom was rubbing off on me, so I turned on the TV. Loudly. It was because I wanted to drown out Sam's sighs. I knew it was because he couldn't do anything. I mean, he was never Mr. Excitement to begin with, but now he couldn't do anything and it was bugging him. And he was bugging me.

He kept sighing like he was suffering the worst punishment known to man. Boredom was what he was suffering. He'd read a little, but had stopped when he kept getting paper cuts. We played cards, but that was no fun because I knew I was going to win. So now we were watching TV.

Some show about three witches was on. Charmed or something. Alyssa something was in it.

When Sam sighed again I got up from the bed. I'd had enough.

"Okay, I'm going to go get a drink and some snacks from the machine. You want anything?" Was it safe for him to have anything? I mean, if he was ever going to get food poisoning, it would be today.

"No, I'm good," he answered, looking like he'd been thinking what I'd been thinking.

"Okay, well, I'll be back in a minute." When I reached the door I turned back around. "Don't break anything." I reconsidered. "Just don't touch anything." He'd been sitting in the chair Dean had placed him in the whole time, so I thought I'd go one step further. "What you're doing right now, not moving? That's good. Keep doing that."

I already had a room key in my pocket, so I left and headed straight for the snack machines, which I assumed were close by. I didn't really know. I'd have to see. On the way, I saw one of those RV Camper things in the motel parking lot. If you had one of those…why would you spend money on a motel room? Wasn't that what they were for: Living in?

Whatever. Wasn't my problem. When I reached the snack machine I got a Pepsi and a bag of Cheetos. On the way back to the room I noticed that two guys were peering into our room. What were they doing?

"Um…can I help you guys?" I asked as I reached them.

They both looked like hicks and one even had Bill Ingval facial hair. The other just had a crazy look about him.

"You can give us your room key," the crazy one said.

"Why would I do that?" I challenged.

"Well, we could always make you," the other one said, grabbing me and shoving my head against the door. As I began to black out, it occurred to me that Sam's bad luck seemed to be affecting me now.

When I came to I heard someone saying something about…Jerry Lewis stacking chairs. What the hell? Or maybe it was riding stacked chairs. Whatever.

"Who are you?" That was Sam. "What d'you want?"

There was a snapping noise and then another voice. "I used to think your friend Gordon sent me." That was the crazy guy. I recognized the voice.

"Gordon? Oh, come on."

Were they talking about Gordon Walker? I thought he was in jail.

"Because he asked me to track you down and put a bullet in your brain. But as it turns out, I'm on a mission from God."

I heard the sound of flesh hitting flesh and my head snapped up, eyes widening. I was back in the motel room, tied to a chair. Sam was actually duct-taped to a chair. I saw that the crazy one was the one who had hit Sam and that he already had a bruise forming on his cheek. Had he been hit before, or was that from the force of this hit?

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

Jeeze, were we back to this again? Did everyone think we were responsible for that?

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

"Lie, lie, lie. 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 this."

"Where are they gonna hit us next?" When Sam didn't answer, the crazy one hit him again. "Where?"

"Stop it!" I said. "You said you're on a 'mission from God', right?" That got the crazy guy's attention. "Well, what kind of God would demand his life for something he has no control over?"

"You stay out of this. This isn't about you."

"Uh, you kind of pulled me in when you slammed my head against the door."

"Gag her," the crazy one told…the less crazy one. I didn't know these guys names, so sue me. Then he turned back to Sam. "Gordon told me about you, Sam. About your powers. You're some kind of weirdo psychic freak."

"No, you're speaking out of fear," I said, moving my head to avoid the cloth the less crazy one was trying to put in my mouth. "Just because you don't understand something doesn't make it evil."

"Shut up!" the crazy one shouted. "There's an army of demons out there, pushing at a world already on the brink. We're on the deck for the end game here, right? So maybe, just maybe, you can understand why we can't take chances."

Suddenly the crazy guy had a gun, and the less crazy guy grabbed at my chin. I bit him and he jerked away.

"Oh, okay. Hold on a minute."

Less crazy guy looked toward Sam and the really crazy guy.

"Kubrick…" the less crazy guy sounded like he didn't actually agree with the gun thing.

"No. You saw what happened, 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."

While he was talking, I tried to flick the gun away with my mind, but it didn't work. What the hell? Why wasn't it working?

"Look," Sam started. "I can explain all of this -"

"Shut up," Kubrick said, and then he turned back to Creedy. "It's God. He led us here for one reason; to do his work. This is destiny."

I focused really hard on throwing the gun away, but got nothing for my efforts. Then I heard the cock of the gun and tried again. Work, damn it.

"Nope, no destiny." Dean's voice. I looked toward him; I hadn't even heard him come in. He had a gun aimed at Kubrick. "Just a rabbit's foot."

Creedy had his hands up in surrender so at least he was cooperating.

Kubrick, on the other hand… "Put the gun down, son, or you're gonna be scraping brain off the wall."

"Oh, this thing?" Dean gestured down to his gun.

"Yeah, that thing." Kubrick answered.

"Okay." He put the gun down on the table by the bed. "But you see, there's something about me that you don't know."

"Yeah, what would that be?"

"It's my lucky day." He grabbed a pen from the table and threw it. It landed right in the barrel of Kubrick's gun. "Oh my God, did you see that shot?"

That was pretty much my thought exactly. I assumed he'd gotten the rabbit's foot; he couldn't have done that if he hadn't. I mean, Dean was awesome and all, but no one was that good.

Creedy ended up knocking himself out by running into a wall, trying to hit Dean. And Kubrick was knocked unconscious when Dean threw a remote and hit him in the head. If I hadn't been tied up, I probably would've clapped gleefully.

"You got the foot, I take it," I said.

"Yeah. What the hell happened?"

"Gordon," Sam said as Dean began cutting the tape off of him.

"Walker?" Dean shook his head. "He sent them after you?"

"Yeah. And they know about Sam's powers."

"They do?" He looked at the two unconscious guys and then at me. "Ya know, when I told you not to use your abilities as much I didn't mean when someone was trying to kill you."

"I tried." Did he really think I'd just sit here and do nothing? "It didn't work."

"What d'you mean it didn't work?" Dean asked, coming to untie me now.

"I mean…I tried to make him lose his gun, but I couldn't."

"Hm." Dean's expression was guarded, so I couldn't tell exactly how he felt about that. As for me? I was worried. I hadn't had a problem with controlling my abilities in a long time, so…why the sudden mishap?

After Sam and I were able to move freely, we got our stuff together and left as quickly as possible. Once in the car Dean asked how the two creeps had even got in the room.

"Um…that was kind of my fault," I said. "I went to get something from the machine and when I came back they were there. They kind of knocked me out and used my room key."

"Yeah, well, don't feel bad," Sam said. "I knocked myself out."

I grinned a little. "Did you fall backwards in your chair?"

"No, the air conditioner caught fire."

"Oh." Wow, we really needed to reverse his luck. He was starting to affect inanimate objects now. "So, what do we do now? I mean, how do we destroy the foot?"

"Well, I called Bobby on the way back," Dean began, "and he said we can't do anything until nightfall. And we're gonna need supplies, and a cemetery."

"So, what happened with you?" Sam asked. "How'd you get the foot back?"

"I'm amazing. That's how I got it back," Dean said, grinning widely. Then he sobered pretty quickly. "No, I was lucky. The chick had it on her counter, just laying there out in the open. I just grabbed it."

"Well, however much luck was involved…I'm glad you got it back," I said. "Now we just need to wait it out." Without Sam having another accident.

"Hey, you know, I was thinking," Sam started as we pulled up to a new-agey store we were going to get our supplies from, "we should try and fix the Colt. Since you don't want Aly using her powers as much, we're gonna need something to kill the demons with."

"Not a bad idea," Dean said. "We'll stop at Bobby's after we take care of this. If anyone can fix it, it's him."

"I thought all it needed was, like, blessed ammunition or something," I said.

"It needs some kind of special ammo, I just don't know what," Dean said.

All three of us went in the store; I was kind of hoping that Dean's good luck would counter Sam's bad luck. But it didn't seem to work that way. Sam still tripped over his own two feet. He was so clumsy now it was almost a disability.

"We'll have to be in research mode, I guess," Dean said. "That's exciting, ain't it, Sammy."

I rolled my eyes; Dean was always joking about Sam's almost unhealthy love of research. I didn't see the problem with it, but Dean was always picking on him. Sam was probably thinking if we could get the Colt working, we could use it against the crossroad demon and save Dean. Which was…an intriguing idea.

"I'll help you, Sam. I'm sure we'll find something in one of Bobby's books." Now back to the current situation. "What supplies do we need?"

"Cayenne pepper," Dean said. "And bone ash."

"So, a condiment and…are you saying literal bone ash or does that stand for something else?" I asked.

"Literal," both the brothers said.

"Naturally." I sighed. "Do they even have that here?" Did anywhere have that? Or were we going to have to make it ourselves? That was bothersome.

"They do," Sam said, grabbing a jar of powdery black ashy stuff.

After we picked up the cayenne pepper, we paid for the stuff and got back in the car. We ended up going to 7-11 because Dean wanted more lottery tickets. I thought it was childish, but it made him happy, so…whatever.

By the time Dean got all the tickets he wanted it was time to find a cemetery, which didn't take that long, and Sam put the ingredients together. Dean continued scratching off the lottery tickets, which I think Sam found as childish as I did, but he didn't say anything.

After he was done, Dean put the tickets in his jacket pocket, said jacket being on a nearby tombstone, and brought the rabbit's foot out of his jeans.

"A'right, that should do it," Sam said, sprinkling more powder in the fire - there was coal involved.

Dean held the rabbit's food up in front of his face. "Say good-bye, Wascally Wabbit."

Just as he was about to throw the foot into the fire the sound of a gun being cocked was heard.

"I think you'll find that belongs to me." We turned to see the woman from the diner, only she had better hair now. Bela, I assumed. She was dressed nicely in designer clothes, and she had a gun pointed at Dean. "Or, you know…whatever. Put the foot down, honey."

I took an instant dislike to her…she seemed to have a superiority complex or something. And the British accent was just adding to the affect. Plus, she was threatening someone I cared about, which added to the me not liking her factor.

"No," Dean answered her request. "You're not gonna shoot anybody. See, I happen to be able to read people. Okay, you're a thief. Fine. But, you're not -"

I was just about to tell him that this speech probably wouldn't work on this woman. Something in her eyes wasn't right. And then she was shooting Sam, who was pushed backward into me, and because he was a big ox and I couldn't hold him up, I fell backwards too. Into a tombstone. My back smashed right into it, and I heard something crack. And then there was intense pain. God, I'd broken something, I was sure.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Dean shouted. "You don't just go around shooting people like that."

I groaned as Sam moved off of me, him holding onto his shoulder. I saw blood dripping through his fingers, and from the warmth on my shirt, I was sure some of it had spilled over onto me.

I wondered if I should move, seeing as to how I was sure I'd broken something. I heard Bela say something like "Put the rabbit's foot on the ground, now." I groaned again as Sam helped me up. Oh, jeeze, bad idea to move.

By the time Sam and I had situated ourselves, somehow Bela had gotten hold of the rabbit's foot, and she looked semi-disgusted with herself. She was part of the curse now.

"Damn," she said.

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

Sighing, Bela tossed the foot into the fire. She didn't seem really upset, exactly, just put out maybe.

"Thanks very much. I'm out one and a half million, and on the very bad side of a very powerful, fairly psychotic buyer."

"Wow. I really don't feel bad about that," Dean said, watching the foot burn.

"Hm. Maybe next time, I'll hang you out to dry." She leaned against the stone with Dean's jacket and then… "Have a nice night."

Have a nice night? Right. After she shot Sam, which caused me to almost break my back…we'd have a great night.

Smirking, she walked away. Bitch.

"You good?" Dean asked us.

"I'll live," Sam said, even though his shoulder was still bleeding, which made sense because the bullet was still lodged in there.

"My back hurts. I thought I heard something crack, but I'm moving okay, so…I guess I'll be okay."

"Sorry," Sam said. "I didn't mean to land on you."

"Not your fault." He couldn't help that Bela-the-bitch had shot him.

We kept watch until the foot who blackened and then we began walking back to the car, Dean grabbing his jacket on the way.

"I guess we're back to normal now, huh?" Dean said. "No good luck, no bad luck."

"Oh, we had plenty of bad luck even before the rabbit's foot," I said.

"Yeah, but it wasn't supernaturally induced," Dean said. "Oh! I forgot. We're up forty-six thousand dollars. I almost forgot about…the…scratch tickets."

He had been smiling, but as he checked his jacket pockets, his smile faded; the tickets were gone. Bela had swiped them.

"Son of a bitch!" Dean said, pissed.

Sam and I looked at each other and then I had to purse my lips to keep from laughing.

"See, plenty of bad luck!"

As soon as we reached the car Dean got to work on Sam's shoulder. I couldn't watch as the blood started pouring out of the wound. Usually gore didn't bother me, but today it did, for some reason. Maybe it was from getting knocked in the head earlier. And then getting knocked into a tombstone just fifteen minutes ago.

After the bullet was out, I decided to try to heal him. I wasn't saying it was going to work because my abilities seemed to be on the fritz today, but he was still bleeding and he needed to be healed.

"You may have broken something," Sam said. "Don't worry about me."

"You're bleeding, Sam." I realized he had a point, though. "Besides, if I did break something, I'll heal in a few days. Now let me help you."

Sam grinned a little. "Fine, bossy."

I stepped forward and placed my hand on his shoulder. I immediately felt the loving warmth fill me as my healing took over and went into Sam. It always took longer to heal him than it did to heal Dean. I didn't know why; it was just something I'd learned.

After he was good as new we piled into the car, and I found that bending over hurt like a bitch. Dean said he'd check me over when he reached a motel. It didn't take long to find a decent one after we left the state of New York. We were going to stop for the night and then head to Bobby's first thing in the morning. Bobby didn't mind unannounced visits so we didn't bother calling.

Like Dean said he would, he checked me over. We were in the bathroom, and he was wrapping a bandage around my mid-section just in case I had broken something so it would set right.

"So…you healed Sam okay. Why do you think you couldn't…do anything earlier?"

"Oh, um…" I didn't really know. "Unless my power's goin' all wonky again, then it's probably because of Sam's bad luck."

"Oh, yeah. That makes sense since you were trying to help him."

"Mm-hm."

After Dean was done wrapping me up, I turned around and caught his gaze. He looked tired, which was normal because we'd all been up for more than twenty-four hours.

"Dean, um, I should probably wait to bring this up, but…what're we gonna do about Gordon?"

"Right, you should have waited." He shook his head. "I don't know. He didn't come on his own, so obviously he's still in prison."

"Yeah, but…just imagine how many hunters he'll be able to…convert." Was that even the right word?

"Can we not and say we did?" Dean joked. "At least for tonight? I'm just tired. Wanna sleep."

"Yeah. Sure. Whatever you want."

"Good."

He kissed my forehead and then we went into the main room where Sam was already asleep on one of the beds. I got situated on the bed on my side that wasn't hurt and began to cuddle up to Dean, but then stopped. After all the rules Dean had given us I didn't know if it was okay to be this close. And that's all I wanted; to be close.

Dean had sensed my confusion and moved closer, turning onto his side to face me. He placed his hand on my jean clad hip casually so apparently this was okay. I sighed in relief and moved my head to lay on his arm.

At least this was still the same.