Supernatural Series Rewrite- Season 5

The Curious Case of Dean Winchester: Part Two

"Find anything?" Dean asked his brother after you two checked what seemed like the hundredth bar in town. "No, not a thing. Well, you come up dry, circle back to the motel in two. Your turn to grab dinner... extra bacon."

"Sam's getting dinner?" you chuckled as you two took a seat at the bar.

"Yeah. Can we get a beer, please?" Dean asked the bartender.

"Yep."

"You wouldn't happen to know of a poker game going on in back, would you?"

"It's a bar, not a casino," the bartender sighed as he popped the top of two beers before handing them over.

"My friend Ben told me you'd know," Dean said as he reached into his jacket pocket.

"Don't know any Ben."

"Sure, you do. You know, balding, smart-ass, real ladies' man?"

"Listen, pal," the bartender leaned really close to prove his point, "I told you, I don't know any Ben. I don't know nothing about a game."

"You sure? Because," he slid over a hundred-dollar bill with its picture of Ben Franklin in the middle, across the bar counter, "he sure seems to know you." The bartender glanced at the bill before making the decision to take it.

"Around back. Take the elevator down," he cleared his throat.

Grinning at the man, you two took off to the back before doing exactly what he told you to do. As soon as you approached the elevator door, it opened and your father came rolling out of it in his wheelchair.

"Dad? What the hell are you doing here?"

"Planting daisies. What's it look like? Came in on the case."

"And you beat us here?" you asked as your dad wheeled away from you two.

"Well, brains trump legs, apparently."

"So, you found the game?" Dean asked.

"Yep."

"Did you stop it?" you asked but received no answer. "Dad?"

"Not exactly," he sighed as he wheeled around to face you.

"Dad, what did you do?"

"I played, okay?" he sighed.

"And?"

"I lost."

"Are you fucking kidding me?!" you yelled. "You played some he-witch?"

"Don't you take that tone with me," he glared.

"You fucking idiot!"

"They're my years! I can do what I want!" he yelled.

"And you didn't think about me? What if you lost your life? Do you even care about my feelings?"

"How many did you lose?" Dean asked, changing the topic.

"Twenty-five," he sighed.

Your father visibly aged twenty-five years right in front of your eyes. His skin sagged, the skin under his eyes darkened, and he looked even more tired than he already was.

"We are not done!" you growled before storming into the elevator.

Dean stared at Bobby before following you to confront the witch. As soon as you stepped foot into the room, your eyes flashed a bright blue in anger. Dean couldn't stop you as you stormed over to the witch before grabbing his arm harshly.

"Hey, man. Excuse me. Can I borrow you for a sec?" you growled.

Patrick, the witch, looked at you before eyeing Dean who casually showed him the handle of his gun that was stashed inside of his jacket.