Maddison Winchester: Journal 4 {Supernatural}

11 Criss Angel Is a Douche Bag: Part 2

Like Sam called it, he and Dean returned less than an hour later, but I was even more confused about what I was going to do. I had been going back and forth with myself a hundred times as I laid in one of the beds staring at the ceiling.

I was sure Dean should know what was going on, but I also didn't want to betray Sam's trust. I mean, I was snooping through his stuff after all. In some ways, I felt like he deserved it because he was obviously still lying to us about something. Something that involved Ruby. Even if Dean had thanked her for taking care of Sam and she had helped us recently, I still didn't trust her, especially now that Sam wasn't even honest about her little visit.

I guess I was just going to give him a little time and let him have the opportunity, to be honest with us. I wasn't sure how much time I was going to let him have, though.

Dean grabbed my foot and shook it. "Hey, kid. Did you hear me?"

I sat up, not realizing that either of them had been talking. "What?"

Dean furrowed his brow. "I've been talking to you since I walked in. You didn't hear any of it?"

I raised my eyebrows. "Oh, no, sorry."

"You feeling all right?" Dean asked.

I nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine. I guess I was just daydreaming." I quickly looked at Sam, who looked a little nervous. "What were you saying? I'm sorry."

Dean shrugged. "Forget it. Clearly, it wasn't that important." He smirked but tried to hide it so I would think that he was really upset.

"Oh, come on. Don't be a brat," I said.

"Oh, I'm the brat?" Dean asked and then sat down on the other bed.

I stood up and sat next to him. "Tell me..." I begged.

Dean shrugged and just ignored me.

"Please..." I whipped out the best puppy dog eyes I had in my arsenal.

"Oh, no." Dean grabbed his chest and covered his eyes dramatically. "Okay, okay. I'll tell you, just put those things away."

I laughed and elbowed him, and then he finally stopped with his over dramatics.

"This guy, I think his name was—" He thought for a second.

"Jay," Sam said.

Dean nodded. "Jay... he did this trick he called the executioner. He stood on a platform in a straitjacket with a noose around his neck. He had sixty seconds to get out of it, or the platform would release."

"Did he do it?" I asked.

Dean nodded excitedly. "Yeah, a white curtain came up in front of him, and we saw him struggling, and then finally, with only like three seconds left, he got out of it."

I laughed. "I thought you didn't like this stuff."

Dean nodded. "I don't, but that was friggin' amazing!"

I laughed. "Hate to burst your bubble, but—"

"Then don't," Dean interrupted.

"He probably had people behind that curtain helping him," I said.

Dean sighed. "Always the pessimist."

"Not true." I smirked.

Sam shook his head. "I don't know if it was really that simple. We could see his silhouette struggling and swinging around but no other shadows. However he did it, it was not humanly possible."

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A couple hours of research later, Sam spoke up, "Looks like this guy Jay was a pretty big deal in the '70s."