We pack up our things at Bobby's, explaining to him about the phone call over the vandalized storage unit and are on the road within an hour, heading to Buffalo.
We get to the facility and find that it is a multi-floored building; John's unit on the third floor.
We pile into the elevator and let the lift slowly climb.
"Man..." Dean says, chuckling to himself.
"What?" Sam asks.
"Just Dad. You know him and his secrets," Dean says, solemnly. "Spend all this time with the guy and it's like we barely even know the man."
"Well, we're all about to learn something." I say as the lift creeks to a stop.
We exit the elevator and find the storage container. Dean uses the lockpick to unlock the padlock and opens the sliding door. We click our flashlights on and begin to file in. There is symbol drawn in red on the dusty floor, along with several bloody footprints. On the dusty floor of the container is a symbol drawn in red, along with several bloody footprints.
"No demons allowed," Sam says, his light landing on the sigil.
Dean squats and examines the floor. "Blood. Check this out." He holds up a tripwire which is attached to a shotgun hidden in a large animal skull.
"Whoever broke in here got tagged," Sam confirms.
"Dear old Dad," Dean chuckles unenthusiastically. "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."
"So what's the deal? Did you Dad would do work here or something?"
"Living the high life, as usual," Dean says as he ventures further inside. Sam and I follow him, aiming our flashlights around, looking. My flashlight lands on a skull and I scream. Dean turns and sees what has frightened me and shakes his head, laughing. I scowl at him.
Sam steps to the side and looks over a desk while Dean picks up a trophy from a shelf, scraping the dust off.
"1995."
"What is it," I ask, trying to peer over Dean's shoulder. He turns and almost clocks me with the trophy.
"Oh sorry," he apologizes. "Sam lookit!"
"No way!" Sam says, walking over and grabbing the memento. "That's my Division Championship soccer trophy. I can't believe he kept this."
"Yeah. It was probably about the closest you ever came to being a boy," Dean says, jokingly. I slap him on the shoulder and wander away to another shelf. I pick up what looks like a homemade shotgun. "Oh, wow! It's my first sawed-off," Dean says, proudly. "I made it myself. Sixth grade."
I laugh at his enthusiasm at the find and he takes it from me, pumping the shotgun.
Sam puts the trophy back on the shelf and moves further into the container, opening a door to a back room. The chain on the door has been cut. Dean and I follow Sam in.
"Holy crap. Look at this, he had land mines, which they didn't take!" Dean says, barely holding in his amazement. "Or the guns. I guess they knew what they were after, huh?"
I spot boxes inscribed with symbols on a far shelf. "Hey, check this out. See these symbols? What are they?"
"That's binding magic," Sam says, examining the shelf of boxes. "These are curse boxes."
"Curse boxes? Th - they're supposed to keep the evil mojo in, right, kinda like the Pandora deal?" I ask, beginning to feel a sense of dread. I think I know where this is going.
"Yeah. Yeah, they're built to contain the power of the cursed object."
"Well Dad's journal did mention a whole bunch of stuff, you know?" Dean explains, looking at all the boxes of different sizes and shapes. "Dangerous hexed items, fetishes...He never did say where they ended up."
"Yeah. Well this must be his toxic waste dump," Sam says as I keep wandering down the long line of shelves filled with the curse boxes. I come across a rectangular shape in the dust and run my finger along the dust. 'Great,' I think to myself. "Hey guys! One box is missing."
Sam and Dean hurry to where I'm standing and stare at the empty spot.
"Well maybe they didn't open it," Dean says, looking between me and his brother, hopeful.
We enter the office of the storage facility and ask to see the security tape at the time of the break-in. The middle-aged man allows us to follow him back to the surveillance room, apologizing the whole way. Sam sits in front of the monitor, clicking buttons until the night of the intrusion. We watch as two men exit an older model car and head straight for John's unit. Sam clicks for the camera image from the third floor. The men easily pick the lock and go in; the blast from the shotgun evident by the flash of light on the screen, hitting the shoulder of the first man. His partner hurries in, checks him out and helps him off the ground. They disappear into the locker. Since there are no cameras inside the unit, Sam tabs back to the one outside and tries to triangulate the feed to get a look at the license plate. At the angle of the camera to where the car is parked, all we can make out is the state the license was issued and the last three digits of the plates, 880.
Dean pulls his phone out and opens an app, inputting the information in. We thank the manager and walk out to Baby. Dean phones dings and he pulls it out of his pocket. "Phil Grossman, Connecticut license 7SL 880. We got our thief."
We drive around looking for the vehicle from the footage for about two hours until Sam catches a glimpse of one down a back alley. Dean backs up and pulls down the alley, stopping near the vehicle. He looks out his window. " Connecticut. Last three digits 880.
"Yep that's it," Sam confirms.
I cluck my tongue against the roof of my mouth and chuckle. "Should've blacked out their plates before they parked in front of the security camera," I say, knowing the two men who broke into John's storage unit is about to meet the Winchester fury.
I climb out of the car after the boys and look up at the desolate apartment building. Just the type of digs for two ignorant thieves to hole up in, I think to myself. I follow the guys into the building and start searching the hallways, listening for any type of sounds to alert us to where the burglars are.
The first floor is quiet and quaint, the only sounds coming from an open door. It's a television set playing some cartoon and a kid no older than 2 and still in diapers sitting in front watching. We each look in at the child and I can't help but wonder where the parents are, if they're even home.
On the second floor, we can hear muffled arguing. The voices belonging to two men. We arrive at the door that the voices are coming from, Sam on one side and I'm on the other. Dean is across the hallway directly in front of the door; we all have our weapons out and ready. We listen to the argument inside, making sure these are the guys we are searching for.
"Royal Flush. Grossman, that's the second Royal Flush in eight hands," the first voice says.
"Yeah! This is a lot of fun," the second voice announces.
"I can't lose. I mean really, I - I can't lose!" Grossman, the man who the first voice belongs to says.
We hear movement inside and then Grossman says, "Maybe this thing really works? You know what I'm saying? Wayne, I tell you something there's no way in Hell we are handing it over to that stuck-up bitch now, not after all we've been through. Uh uh. Let's go, huh? Let's get out of here, let's go have some fun."
Dean looks at Sam and nods his head, Sam nods in return. Dean steps up and kicks in the door, walking in quickly with me and Sam right behind him. Sam steps to the right and I step to the left, each of us with our guns drawn.
"Freeze! Nobody move!" Dean yells at the same time Sam shouts, "Don't move!"
"What is this?" says, and I recognize his voice as Grossman.
"STOP!" Sam bellows.
"All right, give us the box," Dean demands. "And please tell me that you didn't-"
"Oh but they did," I say, seeing the opened cursed box on the table in front of me.
"You opened it?!" Dean asks and shoves Grossman against the wall.
"Are you guys cops?" Grossman asks, panting, trying to get his breath.
Dean and I look at one another and then back to the guy pinned against the wall. "Huh?"
"ARE YOU GUYS COPS?!"
"What was in the box?"
The guy glances over at the coffee table where the rabbit's foot sits. Dean and I turn our heads, following his gaze.
"Oh, was that it, huh?" Dean asks, looking at the furry implement lying there. In his curiosity, he loosens his hold on his opposition. "It was wasn't it? What is that thing?"
I see what looks like an animal paw on the end of a chain and it dawns on me, it's a fucking lucky rabbit's foot. And if one of these idiots have touched and I know they have, they're idiots after all, then we are doomed.
Grossman uses Dean's distraction to knock the gun from his hand. the gun falls to the floor, causing it to fire. The bullet ricochets off a radiator and hits Sam's gun, causing him to drop it. I drop to the floor as the bullet continues to fly haphazardly through the air. I don't want to die today and if these guys have cursed luck on their side, well, I'm going to play the role of the frightened female and hide and hopefully survive. The same bullet then ricochets again and breaks a lamp. Sam and Grossman both go for Sam's gun. He pushes Sam into Dean. Dean falls back on the coffee table, launching the rabbit's foot into the air.
Sam looks to his brother and apologizes, "Sorry!"
Grossman throws himself at Sam, sending them both to the floor. He starts punching Sam in the face. In the meantime, Wayne, the second guy, goes for Dean's gun. As he picks it up and aims for Sam, he elbows Dean, who has just gotten up, square under the chin, knocking him down again. Grossman tries to strangle Sam; Sam is desperately trying to reach for the rabbit's foot, which is almost out of reach. He just managing to grab it. He then knocks Grossman's hands away from his throat and kicks him back into a corner and stands up.
"Dean! I got it!" Sam yells, holding up the fuzzy contrivance hanging from a chain.
Wayne moves forward and cocks Dean's gun in Sam's face. "No you don't."
Grossman gets his hands on Sam's gun while Wayne pulls the trigger on Sam. The gun jams. He panics and tries to clear the chamber, while Dean gets up and tries to stop him. This surprises him and he stumbles back, tripping over me and falling back over the couch, knocking himself out. Sam and Dean look at each other, confused. Grossman gets up and tries to point the gun at Sam. I see him and shout to warn the younger Winchester.
"SAM!"
As Grossman moves, the books on the bookshelves behind him suddenly fall off and onto his head, knocking him out cold. Sam's gun flies out of his hand and Sam catches it. Dean and I look at each other and then to Sam, astounded.
"That was a lucky break!" Dean chuckles and then pauses. He looks closer at the gadget in Sam's hand. "Is that a rabbit's foot?!"
Sam holds it up. "I think it is."
"Huh," Dean humphs, confounded.
"Oh no!" I mutter.
The whole way back to Baby, Dean has a smile on his face and Sam just walks like he's in a trance. We get in and Dean pulls out and heads out of the alley.
"I tell you, this day just got better. We knocked out the bad guys and we got back our stolen property.
Hey," he says then pauses. "I just had an idea."
I watch as he maneuvers the Impala through traffic, pulling into a parking lot. Dean jumps out of the car and jogs inside. I sit there with Sam, not knowing what to say.
"Nic, I got a bad feeling about this," Sam speaks up.
"Yeah me too," I agree. "That thing was locked up for a reason."
Sam reaches under his seat and pulls out the leather journal that belonged to John. He starts flipping through through its pages.
I watch as Dean exits the building and heads toward the Impala with a paper bag in his hands. He gets in and rummages through the bag, taking something out.
"I'm not finding anything on it in Dad's journal," Sam says, not paying attention to his brother.
Dean holds up several scratch cards in front of Sam.
"Dean, come on," Sam says, exacerbated.
"What?! Hey, that was my gun he was aiming at your head, and my gun don't jam," Dean says, confidently. "So that was a lucky break. Not to mention them taking themselves out, also a lucky break. Here, scratch one. C'mon Sam, scratch and win!"
Dean hands over a coin and a card. Sam scratches it and hands it back.
"Dean, it's gotta be cursed somehow," Sam says, looking back down at the journal. "Otherwise Dad wouldn't have locked it up."
"$1200... You just won $1200!" Dean laughs and hollers. "I don't know, man, it doesn't seem that cursed to me!"
I lean up and look over the front seat and at the lottery card in Dean's hand, "You've got to be kidding me."
"Nope," Dean says, showing me the card and handing his brother another card, expectantly.
"Dean," I say, cautionally. "We should really look into this more carefully before using it for anything, especially for scratch off lottery tickets."
"Baby, come on," Dean whined. "Tell you what, let me have this and I'll take you out on the best date ever." He looked over his shoulder at me and smiled. I just rolled my eyes and sat back. There was no way getting through to him.
"I'm going to call Bobby," Sam says, having scratched off the last card. "See if he knows anything."
Sam steps out of the care as Dean lays out the six scratch cards on the dash of the Impala, calculating the winnings.
Dean laughs lowly. "Oh, man!"
I sit back up, putting my arms on the back of the front seat and look down at Dean's phone where the calculator app is opened and the amount of the winnings visible.
"What the-- really?" I ask and Dean shakes his head. "Halle-fucking-lujah!"
I look out the window to see that Sam is still on the phone to Bobby. I can hear his side of the conversation.
"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?"
Sam listens to Bobby talking and is walking back and forth on the passenger side of the Impala. He bends over and picks something up. He holds it so Dean and I can see it; it's gold watch.
"Awesome!" Dean exclaims.
"It's a hell of a luck charm," Sam says into the phone.
"Well, so I won't lose it, Bobby."
"Well, then, how do we break the curse?"
Sam hangs up the phone and puts the rabbit's foot in his pocket. He gets in the car to see his brother and I both grinning widely. "What?"
"Dude! We're up fifteen grand!" Dean exclaims proudly and I giggle, already going over in my mind what I could get with that much money.
Sam only gives us a half-smile, a worried look on his face.
"Bobby says the rabbit's foot is cursed. It's made to kill people. IF you touch it you own it and sure you get good luck. But," Sam pauses in his explanation. "If you lose it, that good luck turns bad. Bad enough that you're dead within a week."
We all look at each other. "I'm hungry," Dean announces, like Sam didn't just tell us bad news. We get out and head into the restaurant. "Don't worry, Bobby'll find a way to break it.," Dean says trying to appease his younger brother. "Until then I say we hit Vegas, pull a little Rain Man. You can be Rain Man."
I laugh but the thought of a vacation in Vegas, yeah I could go for that. A little gambling, a lot of drinking, Dean all to myself, making him grovel for my affection. I smile at the ideas that quickly come to my head for Dean's punishment.
"Look, we just lay low until Bobby calls back, OK?" Sam says, stopping just inside the doors.
I walk past the two and up to the host, who just so happens to be the owner. "Hi, uh, table for three please."
"CONGRATULATIONS!" The host/owner announces as an alarm goes off. "You are the one millionth guest of the Biggerson's Restaurant family!"
The staff start singing and taking photographs. Balloons and streamers fall from the ceiling. Sam looks embarrassed; Dean looks ecstatic and I roll my eyes. I just want a burger.
After taking our picture with a gigantic cardboard check, made out to the millionth customer for free food for a year, we are seated in a booth; Sam on one side, Dean and I on the opposite. Our waitress comes by and takes our order. She openly flirts with both boys and as she leaves, I see her glance back over at Sam, adding an extra sway in her hips.
She brings back our food and leaves us to eat, after making sure that Sam has everything he needs. The food is phenomenal and gone quickly. Dean orders dessert but I am too full to eat another bite. Sam pulls his laptop out and begins trying to search for anything to do with a cursed rabbit's foot and who the stuck-up bitch Grossman was referring to could be.
Dean's bowl of ice cream is delivered by another waitress and she winks at him. I watch for his reaction and to my surprise, he ignores the blatant flirtation. I internally smile thinking 'at least he's trying.'
"Bobby's right," Sam says, looking at the screen. "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."
Dean, ignores his brother, looks at me and says, "I think from now on, we only go to places with Biggerson's." He takes another bite of ice cream and stops, gripping the edge of the table and shuddering. Sam and I can't help but laugh at the eldest Winchester suffering a momentary brain freeze from the ice cream. Our waitress approaches with an carafe of coffee.
"Can I freshen you up?" she ask Sam, nodding to the cup beside him.
"Yeah, yeah sure. Thanks."
The waitress is staring at him, smiling, not paying attention to the coffee until it overflows the cup. "Oh!"
"Oh! Oh I uh-" Sam says, embarrassed for her and goes to grab napkins from the dispenser.
"Let me mop up here," the waitress offers, pulling a rag from her apron.
"No, no don't worry it's okay, It's okay- I got it, uh..."
"It's no trouble really," the waitress tells him.
"OKay," Sam concedes and allows her to clean up the spilled coffee.
"Sorry about that," she apologizes again, looking right into Sam's eyes. Dean and I look at each other, smiling at the obvious attraction.
"It's all right.," Sam says, lowly.
She finishes cleaning up and walks away, looking over her shoulder as she goes and smiles. We all lean toward the table and watch her retreat.
"Dude. If you were ever gonna get lucky.." I say as I hit Dean's shoulder with my own, waggling my eyebrows at the younger Winchester.
Sam smirks and says, "Shut up."
He goes to pick up his coffee, knocks the cup over and manages to spill it all over the table and himself, jumping out of his seat.
"Oh! Oh Geez, uh..."
Sam turns around and a waiter with a full tray crashes straight into him, sending things flying and causing a scene. Dean looks at me, shocked.
Sam apologizes the the waiter and turns back to the table.
"How was that good?" Dean asks tentatively.
Sam reaches into his jacket pocket and bring out his hand, empty. The rabbit foot is gone.
"Son of a bitch," Dean exclaims as I look at Sam wistfully. This turn of events is not good, not good at all.
We rush out of the restaurant; Dean in front. "Come on!"
I'm lagging behind because even though I'm tall at 5'7" and I know I can run fast, I still can barely keep up with those long Winchester legs.
Sam falls flat on his face in front of me and Dean slows down and turns around.
"Wow! You suck!" Dean says as he looks at his brother face first on the ground.
I reach down and help Sam up. He rubs his knee. "Ow." Sam's jeans are torn at both knees, which are bloody and raw.
"So what, now your luck turns bad?" Dean asks as we look over his brother, checking for any other wounds.
"I guess," Sam answers, wiping the palms of his hands on his shirt.
"I wonder how bad?" I ask, looking between the two.
I help Sam limp to the Impala and get him situated in the passenger seat before I slide in behind him. Dean already has the engine running and says, "Let's go see how our friendly neighborhood thieves are making out. We took the foot from them. See if their bad luck has started yet."
When we arrive at the decrepit apartment building, there is an ambulance loading up a body covered in a sheet. The paramedics shut the doors and walk around getting in the front and driving away. One of the bystanders tell us that a guy on the second floor tripped and fell onto a carving fork that was on the sink, impaling himself. We look at each other; we knew the victim is one of the thieves.
We walk upstairs and enter the opened door. Grossman looks up and sighs. "Oh, man. What do you want?"
"Heard about your friend. That's bad luck."
"Piss off.
"We know someone hired you to steal the rabbit's foot," Dean says. "A woman.
"Oh yeah? How do you know that?
"Because she just stole it back from us.
Grossman laughs.
"Listen man, this is seri-," Sam starts, stepping closer but then he trips on a wire on the floor mid-sentence, pulling a CD player off a shelf. Sam and the player both go crashing to the ground. Sam takes out a lamp as he goes. Dean rolls his eyes and I look back.
"Sam, you OK?" I ask, calmly.
"Yeah, I'm good!" Sam answers from the floor behind the couch. He pulls himself up and Grossman smirks.
"I want you to tell us her name," Dean demands, looking at the grieving man.
"Screw you."
"It wasn't a freak accident that killed your partner, you know." I try to get through to him.
"What?" Grossman says, skeptical.
"It was the rabbit's foot," Dean tells him.
Grossman scoffs, "You're crazy, man!"
"You know I'm not. You saw what happened, what it did. All the flukes, all the luck," Dean explains. "When you lose the foot that luck goes sour. That's what killed your friend. 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."
Grossman looks up at us, worried.
"Now I can read people ... and I get it. You're a thief, and a scumbag, that's fine," Dean says. "But you're not a killer. Are you?"
"No," Grossman whispers.
Dean walks over and sits on the table across from Grossman. "Who paid you to steal the box?"
I help Sam up and around the couch and catch him as he trips over his own two feet and bumps into the coffee table his brother is on. I get him seated on the couch and point my finger at him, "Do not move."
Dean glances over his shoulder at me and his brother and then puts his attention back to the man in front of him.
"See, Sam there touched the rabbit's foot and everything was going great. Then as soon as he lost it, his luck went south. Now, I don't want my baby brother ending up like your friend, so tell us. WHO PAID YOU TO STEAL THE BOX?!"
"I don't know who the hell she was man," Grossman begins after looking at Sam and then to Dean. "We got a phone call. Said she'd pay us $50,000 to break into the storage locker and take the box. We had no idea what was in it, I swear. Job seemed simple enough. Go in, get a box, earn some big bucks. After Wayne got shot though, he got curious. Wanted to know what in the hell could've been so important that the place was booby-trapped. So he opened it."
"Did you get a name?"
"Yea, uh. Bela. Bela Lugosi. We were supposed to meet up with her and make the trade-off but then, well you guys came barging in here and stole it from us."
"How did this Bela know we had it?" I ask.
"I called her. Told her that two guys and a woman busted in and robbed us. She asked to describe you and so I did. She hung up and I haven't heard from her since."
I give my sympathies to Grossman for his friend and follow the guys out of the apartment. We step out into the night air and head toward the Impala. Dean's phone starts ringing.
As Dean answers, he steps over a large wad of pink bubblegum on the ground. "Hello?"
Sam and I follow behind him and I hear a squishing sound beside me. Sam sighs, frustrated as he looks down and lifts his shoe off of the bubblegum.
"Bobby, that's uh, great, 'cept Sam, uh..." Dean says. He looks back at Sam and grimaces, shaking his head when Sam lifts his shoe.
"Sam lost the foot."
"He WHAT?!" I can hear Bobby's infuriated response.
"Bobby, Bobby, listen. This, uh, this hot chick stole it from him," Dean says. "I'm serious. In her mid 20's, and she was sharp you know, good enough at the con to play us."
Sam places his hand on my shoulder, trying to keep his balance as he attempts to scrape the bubblegum off his shoe using a broken storm drain grating.
"And she only gave the guy she hired a name, probably an alias or something," Dean says, looking back to his brother to verify the information. "Uh, Luigi or something?"
Sam is still scraping his shoe off so I answer, "Lugosi."
"Lugosi," Dean repeats into the phone.
Sam moves his foot too hard, dislodging his shoe. It drops into the drain with a splash. He bends down trying to retrieve it.
"Bela Lugosi? That's cute," Dean says, snarkily. I glance his way wondering who Bela Lugosi is.
"Well she knew about the damn rabbit's foot. Is she a Hunter?"
"Ah, I guess she's back."
"Great," Dean says, rolling his eyes.
"Thanks Bobby," Dean says into his phone. "Again."
Dean looks back at me and Sam. Sam is looking dejectedly down at the ground and I'm trying to hold back giggles.
"What?" Dean asks, scornful.
"I lost my shoe." Sam impishly claims.
I can't help but to begin laughing out loudly as Dean looks down at Sam's sock-clad foot and sighs, annoyed. He rolls his eyes and turns away. Sam hangs his head.
I'm still laughing as I pat Sam on the shoulder and we follow Dean back to the Impala across the street.
Dean pulls the Impala into the lot of a motel and stops just outside the office. He jumps out and darts inside, apparently to get a room.
When he comes back out, he has a key in his hand and is on the phone. As he slides in behind the wheel he finishes up the conversation. "All right, Bobby, thanks. Hey, we owe ya. Another one."
He looks over at his brother and then glances back at me. "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 asks, confused.
"You, my brother, are staying here 'cause I don't want your bad luck getting us killed," Dean tells him, starting the engine and driving around the building.
"That's a good idea," I speak up as Dean is parking in front of a room.
"And you sweetheart," Dean says, turning in his seat to look at me. "You're staying to make sure he doesn't get himself hurt."
"Bullshit!" I say, look at Dean like he was crazy. "You need backup."
"Baby," Dean sighs, his shoulders slumping. "It's a girl. A simple girl. I can handle her. I'll just go in there, scare the daylights out of her with some cockamamie story and take the rabbit's foot back. Bring it back here so we can destroy that piece of shit."
"No," I demand. "I'm going with you." How dare he think he can just leave me behind and go after this Bela woman alone. I'm not letting him do it, nope. Not happening.
"Uh, I'll just be outside," Sam says. He can tell that there is a big argument coming and wants to give us some privacy.
"Nic, I need you to keep an eye on Sammy," he begs me. "Please, baby? You seen how he was at the apartment, tripping over a cord and then tripping over his own two feet. Hell, he even lost his shoe in a sewer! I need to know that he is safe so I can keep my attention on getting the foot. "
I consider what he is telling me. It does seem that Sam is his own worst enemy right now. And if someone doesn't keep an eye on him, God only knows what mess he'd get into. So, I concede to Dean's idea of staying behind.
"Ok," I agree. "But you call me as soon as you got it, you hear me Mister?"
"Of course," Dean smiles and leans over the seat to kiss me. I lean forward and let my lips glide over his. We get out of the car and he grabs my hand, lacing our fingers together. Sam rolls his eyes as he follows us to the door.
Dean unlocks the door and pulls me inside, Sam following. Dean turns on a light and we all take in the room. Miniscule decorations, a table with two chairs and two twin size beds.
"What are we even supposed to do, Dean?" Sam asks.
"Nothing! Nothing. Come here. I don't want you doing anything. I want you to sit right here," Dean instructs, pulling a chair into the middle of the room. "And don't move, OK?" Dean turns to look at me. "Don't let him move. Don't turn on the light, don't turn off the light. Don't even scratch your nose."
I nod my head and he comes over, kissing me hard before leaving the room and locking the door behind him. I look over at Sam and he is wrinkling his nose, like it's itching. I can't help but laugh as I walk over and scratch his nose. "Better?"
"Yea," Sam sighs. "Thanks Nic."
"So, we're stuck here. Whatcha wanna do?" I ask as I sit on the bed behind me.
Sam and I sat there staring at the walls, the ceiling, each other. There was nothing to do. I stood up and turned to get the remote and find something to watch at least when the AC unit in the wall starts making a clunking, grinding sound. Smoke starts to pour out.
"Oh come on!" I whined
"I- I didn't- I wasn't..." Sam stuttered.
"I know."
Sam gets up and cautiously approaches the unit. As soon as he reaches it, it catches on fire. Sam grabs the comforter off one of the beds and attempts to put out the fire with it. When he thinks he's got it, he gets up, only for me to yell, "Sam! Your jacket is on fire!"
He panics and pulls the curtain to put it out. The force of his jerk causes the curtain to rip from the rod and it falls away. We see two men staring at us through the window, sneering. I run up behind Sam about the same time he steps back, colliding with me. We both fall and black takes over my vision.
I wake up to one of the men restraining Sam to a chair with silver tape. I try to move only to look down and see I'm restrained to a chair also. Sam moans and opens his eyes.
"Oh, he's awake!" The dark hair man says. He looks over and notices me. "The bitch is too."
"Back with us, eh?" The other guy asks. I give him what I hope is a Sam Winchester bitch face.
"We didn't even have to touch you. You just went all spastic, and knocked yourselves out? It was like watching Jerry Lewis try to stack chairs!" They both laugh.
"Who are you, What do you wa-" Sam begins asking but the second guy snaps his fingers in Sam's face, shutting him up. Sam looks over at me, confused. I shrug my shoulders as much as I can from my entrapment.
"I used to think your friend Gordon sent me," the guy explains.
"Gordon? Oh come on!" Sam says, annoyed.
"Gordon is a douche," I snap. "Poorest excuse for a hunter if I ever seen one."
"Shut up, bitch!" The first guy yells and backhands me across the face.
"Nic, you ok?" Sam asks as I shake off the slap and answer, "Yea, I'm fine!"
"He asked me to track you down, and put a bullet in your brain," the guy continues mocking Sam.
"Great. That sounds like him," Sam mumbles.
"Gordon has a few screws loose," I say defiantly. "Wouldn't do to listen to anything he has to say."
The guy taunting Sam glances at me before walking closer to Sam and bending down to get in his face. "But, as it turns out. I'm on a mission from God."
He stands up and strikes Sam across the face, essentially knocking him out.
"You gonna stay quiet?" The man asked me. "Or do you need roughed up like your boyfriend here?"
"Not my boyfriend," I answered boldly, jutting my chin out.
The two men look at each other and then sit back on the beds, cross their ankles and click the t.v. on.
After about an hour, they seem to be getting restless, so the one who tied us up stands and walks to the kitchenette and fills a glass with water, throwing it in Sam's face. His cheek is bruised and his nose is bloody as shakes the water off. The other man sits at the end of the motel bed, watching.
Sam shakes his head and sighs. Then he looks over at me, mentally asking me if I'm okay. I nod my head as the one of the bed starts talking.
"You were a part of that demon plan to open the gate weren't you?"
"No," Sam says. "We did everything we could to stop it."
"We tried to stop it," I exclaimed, trying to break loose from my bonds.
"Lies lies lies! You were in on it," the man exclaims. "You know what their next move is too, don't you?"
"No, I don't, okay? You're wrong about all of this," Sam demands.
"Where are they gonna hit us next?"
Sam sighs and stays silent. The man stands up and strikes Sam across the face again. I can't help but squeak at the impact. Sam does nothing but exhales loudly.
"Why are you doing this?" I scream as he hits Sam. "We were trying to STOP the gate from opening! We've been running ourselves ragged trying to kill what got out! We're the good guys!"
"WHERE?!" The guy completely ignores me and continues to berate Sam. "Gordon told me about you, Sam. About your powers. You're some kinda weirdo psychic freak?"
"No, not any more. I - no powers, no visions, nothing, it just-" Sam is all but pleading.
"LIAR!"
The man punches Sam hard. Sam's head lulls back across his shoulders, but thankfully he doesn't pass out.
"NO!" I yell as Sam's head falls back from the connection..
"Now, no more lies. There's an army of demons out there pushing at a world already on the brink," the man says. "We're on deck for the endgame here, right? So maybe, just maybe you can understand--," he pauses in his speech and draws his gun, pointing it at Sam. "--why we can't take chances."
"Whoa, okay, okay, no, do- hold on a minute! -" I beg and plead with the men.
His partner seems to agree with me and tries to intervene. "Hey, Kubrick just-"
"No, you saw what happened, Creedy. Ask yourself, why are we here?" Kubrick looks at his partner. "Because you saw a picture on the web? Because we chose this motel instead of another? Luck like that doesn't just happen."
"Look, I can explain all of that if-" Sam begs.
"Shut up!" The man whose name I know now is Kubrick yells. He points to Sam without turning around. "It's God, Creedy. He led us here for one reason. To do His work. This ... is destiny."
"Nope. No destiny. Just a rabbit's foot," Dean announces as he enters the room, gun in his hand and pointed straight at our kidnappers.
"Put the fucking gun down, son, or you're gonna be scraping brain off the wall."
"Oh, this thing?" Dean waves the gun around.
"Yeah, that thing," the guy, Kubrick, who I've deemed was the mastermind behind this whole heist, says mockingly.
"Okay. But you see, there's something about me that you don't know," Deans says putting his gun down and picks up a pen sitting next to it.
"Yeah? What would that be?" the mastermind asks smugly.
"It's my goddamn lucky day."
Dean tosses the pen toward the mastermind. It lodges itself in the barrel of his gun.
"Oh my God, did you see that shot!?" Dean exclaims, laughing.
The other man lunges at Dean and aims a punch but Dean easily side-steps and the man runs straight into the wall, falling backwards and hitting the floor. Kubrick stares at the pen in the barrel for a few moments before trying to dislodge it.
"I'm amazing," Dean says to no one in particular. Sam and I begin trying to free ourselves.
Dean then picks up the TV remote from the table and throws it hard at Kubrick, who is just about to aim for Dean. The remote hits him right between the eyes, knocking him out cold and he drops like a stone.
"I'm Batman," Dean smiles, looking at me and then his brother.
"Yeah. You're Batman," Sam says sarcastically. I just roll my eyes and look at my boyfriend.
"Well Batman, get us the hell out of these fucking ties!"
Dean jumps into action, untapping me from my chair and handing me my gun. "Keep watch."
I train my gun on the two men passed out in the floor while Dean goes about unbinding his brother.
Once we are free, we run out of the room and jump in the Impala. Dean hits the gas and takes off.
"Did you get it?" Sam asks.
"Did I get it?!" Dean asks, mockingly. "Did you see me back there? I was invincible. Of course I got it!"
"Well, let's destroy it before we lose it again," I insisted.
We drove to the edge of town where a cemetery loomed.
Dean got out and went to the trunk, getting the supplies we needed to burn the foot. We walk through the cemetery to a spot not visible from the main road.
"All right. Bone ash, cayenne pepper, that should do it," Sam says sprinkling the pepper onto the pile of ash on the ground.
"One second," Dean muttered, busily scratching off more lottery tickets.
"Dean, you-" Sam sighs, shaking his head.
"Hey, back off, Jinx. I'm bringing home the bacon," Dean glances over his shoulder at Sam and I. We just want to get rid of this stupid cursed rabbit's foot before it's too late. We look at one another and roll our eyes.
"Hey! I seen that" Dean chided, pointing one of the cards at us.
Sam and I both sigh. Dean winks at me and stashes the cards in his jacket, that is slung over a gravestone.
Dean holds the foot up and says, "Alright, say goodbye "wascawy wabbit".
We hear the sound of a gun cocking behind Dean and he turns round.
"I think you'll find that belongs to me. Or, you know, whatever," a petite woman with light brown hair says. "Put the foot down, honey."
I move to attack her and Dean holds his hand out to stop me. "No. You're not going to shoot anybody, Bela. See I happen to be able to read people. OK, you're a thief, fine, but you're not-"
Bela ignores him, aims at Sam and fires. Sam falls beside me, holding his shoulder and groaning.
"Son of a-" Dean shouts but shuts up once he realizes Bela has her gun toward me.
I move again to go after her and she aims the gun straight at me, stopping me in my tracks.
"Back off sugar," Bela snarks, looking at me. "Back off. You make one more move and I'll pull the trigger."
Sam gets up, clutching his shoulder. I check him over, it's a complete through and through shot. Nothing a little whiskey and some stitches won't heal.
"You've got the luck, Dean. You, I can't hit. But your brother and your girlfriend? Them I can't miss."
"Jesus Christ! What the hell is wrong with you?! 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? Put the rabbit's foot on the ground now."
"All right! All right. Take it easy," Dean concedes. He goes to drop the rabbit's foot, but instead throws it at Bela. "Think fast."
Bela catches the foot and curses. "Damn!" Dean smiles in satisfaction.
"Now, what do you say we destroy that ugly-ass piece of dead thing?"
Bela sighs, annoyed..
She walks over and drops the rabbit's foot in the small flames. "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. Sam? Nic?"
"Nope," Sam answers.
"Not even a little," I shrug, smiling sweetly at Bela.
"Hmm. Maybe next time I'll hang you out to dry," she snarks and turns to walk away. She turns back toward us leaning on the gravestone where Dean's jacket is.
"Oh don't go away angry, just go away," Dean snidely tells her.
"Have a nice night guys," she says as she walks away. We turn to see the rabbit's foot burning in the fire. Good riddance, Thumper!
Once the last of the embers have burnt out, we walk back toward the gate.
"You good?" Dean asks his brother, tossing his arm over my shoulder.
"I'll live."
"I guess we're back to normal now, huh? No good luck, no bad luck." Dean says and then gets a huge grin on his face. "Oh! I forgot we're up $46,000. I almost forgot about the scratch tickets."
He begins searching his jacket and comes up empty. A car roars in the distance. Sam, Dean and I look between each other and then watch as Bela drives away, honking her horn.
"SON OF A BITCH!"
"What?" I inquire.
"Bitch stole the tickets!"