( YOUNG AGAIN )

BAR
[ ☾]

      Patrick is chewing on his toothpick. He has a glass of whiskey on the table, two cards in his hand, and several stacks of chips. Several chips are piled in the middle of the table next to the four of diamonds, a red court card, a black seven, the three of hearts, and a black two. He takes the toothpick out. "I like you, Sam. I do. You're smart, and your heart's clearly in the right place." Sam doesn't answer. Patrick throws down his toothpick and drinks his whiskey. "I can tell a lot about a guy by looking."

      "You mean you're psychic." Sam says.

      "No. That'd be cheating. I'm talking about good old-fashioned intuition." Patrick says.

     Sam nods. "Right. Let's just play." He says. Patrick drinks more whiskey.

      "We are playing." He puts the glass down next to the toothpick. "Does your big brother know you're here?"

      "Bet five." Sam drops a stack of five chips on the pile. He has a lot fewer chips left than Patrick.

      "Didn't think so." Patrick puts one stack of five on another and adds that stack 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 looks down. Patrick toys with a few chips. "You're not the little brother anymore, Sam." Sam looks 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."

      "Does this armchair-psychology routine usually work for you?" Sam asks.

      Patrick laughs. "You tell me. You're the one who's losing." He chews his toothpick.

      A little later, Patrick shuffles the cards, chewing his toothpick. He has thirty or thirty-five chips and Sam fifteen or twenty. Sam plays with a few of his chips. Lia walks in. Patrick puts down the toothpick. She leans down to kiss him. Patrick looks at Sam and winks. "Little break?"

BEHIND BAR
[ ☾]

      Sam bursts out of doors that read "EMMIT's PUB DELIVERY RING". He looks around and spots Dean. "How's it going in there?" Dean asks.

      Sam scoffs. "How do you think it's going? What about you? You have everything you need?" He asks.

      "We still need a little he-witch DNA." Dean says.

      "He was chewing it." Sam holds up a toothpick. Dean takes it. "Hurry up, Dean. Please."

      "All right. Just keep him busy. And, Sammy...don't lose." Dean says and Sam goes back inside. Dean heads away, pausing to rub at his aching arm.

BAR
[ ☾]

      Sam plays with his chips. Patrick sits back down. Lia stands behind Patrick, who pushes the deck of cards across the table. "Airmidh mi air maponus, dia-" Bobby voice overs

      A car drives in front of where Bobby, Elena and Dean are set up, Bobby reading from Lia's paper while Dean stands at the bowl full of burning things. "-na hogalachd. Gairmidh mi air sucellus, dia na time." Bobby says. Dean throws a handful of something in the flames, which flare up blue. "Till an-dràsda obair uile gu bheilair a bhith deànta. Mar sin bitheadh. Drop it in."

      Dean looks at the toothpick and adds it to the fire. A pause. "Well? How do I look? Bobby doesn't reply; the truthful answer is 'eighty years old'." He says

       Patrick looks at Sam. "Question." He holds up a toothpick. "Is this what you meant to give your big brother?" Sam doesn't let his expression change. Lia flicks a glance at the toothpick. "The one you gave him never passed my lips. Won't do a scrap of good." Patrick throws the toothpick across the table. "I don't like cheating, Sam." He stretches out his hand and clenches a fist. Sam stiffens, gasping for breath, while Lia watches. Sam puts a hand to his throat.

      Patrick is still choking Sam via witchcraft. "Stop it!" Lia grabs Patrick's wrist. "Patrick, let him go!"

      "He tried to kill us!" Yells Patrick.

      "I did it! I gave him the spell!"

      Patrick, shocked, releases Sam and looks up at Lia. Sam gasps in air. "What?" He stands up and touches Lia's face. "Why...why would you do that?"

      "You know why." Lia touches her silver locket. "You know."

      Patrick looks away for a moment, then sits down. "Keep. Playing." He says. Lia looks away. Sam glances at her.

BOBBY'S VAN
[ ☾]

       Bobby is driving, Dean next to him. "Everything we put in that spell was kosher." He says.

      "Yeah, everything except the damn toothpick." Dean says.

      "You got to go get a speck of DNA. Strap on your track shoes." Bobby says.

      "Oh, goody. More stairs." Dean says.

BAR
[ ☾]

      More than a dozen chips are piled next to the eight of hearts, the queens of clubs and diamonds, and the two of diamonds. Patrick discards a card and deals the ace of clubs. Sam has his hands folded against his mouth.

APARTMENT
[ ☾]

      Dean is on the phone with Bobby while he and Elena look around Patrick and Lia's apartment. "It's too damn clean in here. First witch I ever heard of didn't spew bodily fluids all over the place." He says.

      "Toothbrush, comb-anything." Says Bobby.

BAR
[ ☾]

      Sam stacks five chips next to another five next to the pile. "Well, look at you-the percentage player betting the farm. 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." Patrick sniffs and picks up his face-down cards. "I fold." He discards his cards. "Set of ladies, I'm guessing."

      Sam collects a couple dozen chips and turns over his cards: the three of clubs and five of diamonds, for one pair of queens. Sam stacks his chips. "Nice bluff. If we had time, I could make a real player out of you." Patrick says.

      "I got time." Sam says.

      Patrick grins. "Maybe. But I can't say the same for Dean. Your brother's gonna be dead soon." He says and Sam looks up. "And when I say 'soon'..." He leans forward. "I mean minutes." Sam's expression changes, fearful, and he stands up. Patrick extends a fist to yank him back down with witchcraft. "The game's not over till I say it is. Blinds." He slaps down two chips and Sam one.

APARTMENT
[ ☾]

      Dean spots a wine glass on a table, still with a little wine left undrunk. He starts toward it. "Sam..." Dean slumps to the floor, groaning.

      "Dean!" Elena says and runs to his side.

BAR
[ ☾]

      Patrick deals two face-down cards apiece. Sam glances at his and adds another chip to the pot. "So." Patrick slaps down three cards and spreads them out: the ace of spades and fours of hearts and clubs. Sam eyes the cards. "When it's about your brother, you get so emotional, your brain just flies right out the window." He illustrates with a hand gesture. "Good to know."

      "Go to hell." Sam says.

APARTMENT
[ ☾]

      Dean lies on the floor. Elena pulls out her cellphone and calls Bobby. "It's Dean...I think he's dying."

BAR
[ ☾]

      Sam shoves all his chips into the middle. "I'm all in." He says. Lia glances at him.

      Patrick sighs, checking his cards. "Don't do that, Sam." He says.

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

      "Look, there's poker and then there's suicide."

      "Just play the hand." Sam says.

BOBBY'S VAN
[ ☾]

      Bobby is on the phone with Dean. "Dean? Dean, you there?" He calls. Dean lies on the floor, gasping weakly.

BAR
[ ☾]

      Patrick adds all his chips to the pot. "Fine." He discards a card and deals the seven of diamonds.

      Bobby is on the phone with Dean. "Dean?!"

      Patrick deals the nine of spades. Meanwhile, Dean lies on the floor. Sam and Patrick stare each other down, Sam worried, Patrick smug, Lia nervous. Dean lies still. "Oh my god." Elena says as she shakes Dean. Bobby holds the phone, worried.

      Patrick turns over his face-down cards: aces of clubs and diamonds. "I'm sorry, kid. Aces full." He says. Sam looks at the cards.

      Sam lets out a breath. He glances at Lia. "You're crying." He says. sniffles, looking away. Patrick and Sam watch her. "For a witch, you're so nice, it's actually kind of creepy. It's okay." Sam looks at Patrick. "It was a great hand." Patrick moves to collect the chips: the only hands that can beat a full house with three aces are a four of a kind and a straight flush. The flop cards are three different suits, so he knows Sam cannot possibly have a straight flush, and he knows the odds are very slim that Sam has the remaining two fours.

      "Just-" Sam starts as Patrick looks up. "-not as great as-" Sam turns over his face-down cards, the fours of diamonds and spades. He knew he had a four of a kind from the moment the flop cards were dealt; the only way to beat a four of a kind is with a straight flush, which he knew Patrick could not possibly have. "-as four fours."

      Patrick glances up at Sam, then down at the cards. Sam takes a deep breath and lets it out. Patrick leans back. "Well played. You know, that whole...going-out-of-your-head bit-very method." Sam smirks. "Well, there's more to you than meets the eye." He raises his glass. Sam nods.

      "Cash these in for Dean, please." Sam says.

      Patrick nods. He sets down the glass. "With pleasure." He says.

APARTMENT BUILDING
[ ☾]

      Bobby is still on the phone. "Dean, you hear me? Damn it, Dean!" He spots something inside the building and turns to look. Someone comes out the door: it's Dean, thirty again. He holds out his arms, grinning, and does a little dance as he approaches the van. Elena comes after him, smiling. Bobby stares. Dean jumps up, clicking his heels in the air.

      "Idjit."

BAR
[ ☾]

      Patrick and Lia sit at the poker table. He speaks in a whisper. "I can't do this, Lia." He says.

      "Yes, you can." Lia says.

      "Don't make me. I don't want to win." Says Patrick.

      Lia opens her locket. There are two photos inside. "I buried my daughter." The right-hand photo is clearly decades old, of a very small child. The left-hand photo is much more recent, of an elderly woman. "And she looked like this." She shakes her head. "It's not natural." Lia closes the locket.

      "You knew. When you decided to come with me." Patrick says and Lia looks down. "This is what you wanted. You're still young. You're so beautiful. You have me."

      "I miss my family. I'm sorry, Patrick." Says Lia.

      "I thought you loved me."

      "I do. Sweetheart, of course I do. I thought I was cut out for this, but I'm not." Lia says.

      "I don't think I can do this without you." Says Patrick.

      "You got on okay for a long time before you met me."

      "Check." Patrick says.

      Lia pushes her stacks of poker chips, spilling them over the chips already in the middle of the table. "All in." She says. A long pause. Patrick does the same with his chips.

      "All in. The face-up cards are the nine of hearts, queen of diamonds, king of clubs, and six and seven of spades." Patrick hesitates, then turns over his face-down cards, the king and queen of hearts, for two pair. Lia turns over her cards, the three of clubs and five of diamonds.

      Lia ages rapidly. "Thank you." She says. Patrick puts his head in his hands.

MOTEL ROOM
[ ☼ ]

      "No tricks-you actually beat the guy?" Bobby asks. Sam spreads his arms. "How the hell?"

      Sam smirks. "Just lucky." He says. Sam heads for the door, passing Dean, who's on the way in with a burger. "Hey. I'll see y'all guys later." Sam grabs his jacket.

     "Where you going?" Dean asks.

      "Uh...mm, nowhere." Sam says. Bobby, Elena and Dean look at him. "A booster shot. Don't say it." Sam leaves. Dean comes in and puts his burger down.

     Bobby groans. "Well, I guess we can get the van loaded." He said. Dean holds up a finger and clears his throat.

      "I shouldn't have called you an idiot." Dean says.

      "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-" Dean starts.

     "Don't you go on pity patrol." Bobby says.

      "I'm not. I'm not. I'm just...I'm saying, you know, if I was in your shoes..." Dean starts.

      "You'd never stop complaining."

      Dean stares for a moment. "Fair enough. You're not useless, Bobby." He says.

      "Okay. Good talk." Bobby goes to roll away. Dean steps in his path.

      "No, wait a minute. Listen to me." Dean sits down and sighs. "You don't stop being a soldier 'cause you got wounded in battle. Okay? 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. I can't do this without you. I can't. So don't you dare think about checking out. I don't want to hear that again." A long silence.

      "Okay." Bobby says.

     "Okay. Good."

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

      "Yeah, we're done." Dean gets up. He picks up his burger, looks at it, and puts it back down. He picks up his bag. "Let's go, Ironsides." Dean slings his bag over his shoulder and heads for the door.

      "Oh, that one's sticking, huh?" Bobby asks. Dean looks back, smiling, and leaves. Bobby sighs.