CHAPTER FIFTY TWO:
GRUMPY OLD MEN.

☽ ༓ ☾

THE ABILITY TO control emotions really had never been one of Birdie's strong suits. Even when she was a child, she struggled to control the feelings that bubbled inside her, either crying once the feelings completely overwhelmed her or taking it out on the closest object (which she could admit wasn't the healthiest thing to do, but sometimes it was the first thing that popped up into her head). Reese did his best to help Birdie try to control her emotions, sometimes taking the brutes of one of Birdie's tantrums because nothing seemed to work. He didn't notice that it only occurred when Serena wasn't around, just focusing on his daughter and trying to help her learn to feel and control her emotions in a healthier way. It had been said that some kids only acted out around those they were comfortable around, which very well could have been why it was only Reese who ever saw those kinds of fits come from his daughter. It wasn't easy, some days feeling like the tantrums were lasting forever and there wasn't anything he could do to make his daughter happy again. Other times he was able to distract her from how she was feeling and get her to finally settle down. But, he nor Serena were the best at controlling their stronger emotions, and that was evident in Birdie.

A weary glance was cast in Birdie's direction by Sam, the woman completely missing it. Her brows were furrowed together, a look of anger or concentration⎯⎯⎯perhaps it was a mix of both⎯⎯⎯on her face as she drew ins her sketchbook. She was nestled in the backseat of the Impala, one headphone in her ear so she could listen to hear own music but also still hear the boys if they spoke to her. Her phone was beside her, vibrating every so often; most texts likely Reese.

Almost four days had passed since she saw her father and found out she had a half brother⎯⎯⎯who her father was traveling with and had been for quite some time now. He claimed it'd only been for a few months, and that Callum had found him rather than the other way around.

Apparently Callum's mother would never tell him who his father was when he was growing up, that he was just a man she'd had a brief fling with one year and that he was gone by the time she found out she was pregnant. When he turned sixteen, he started trying to find his father behind his mothers back. He struggled for years to find any kind of information, ending up at one dead end and another. He almost gave up hope until he found a little handwritten note inside one of his mother's boxes. It was slightly smudged, but he could make out two words⎯⎯⎯Reese Fowler. But, when he found an article about the man's death, he realized he needed to put his search for his father to bed. However, just a month later as he was taking a hike through a national park, low and behold, he happened to come face to face with Reese.

Reese, with the hunter instincts he had, was immediately suspicious of the boy. But, after a couple of days of (basically) interrogating each other, he realized that the boy was not a monster, and that he was in fact his son. Or, so that was what Sam and Dean had told Birdie. That was one of the things they'd learned from Reese and Callum after Birdie stormed off and didn't give her father a chance to explain. Though, Birdie didn't pay that much attention to the boys' explanation.

The one thing she did focus on was her father saying that it wasn't his choice to stay away from her, that it was Lilith who told him to do it.

Why. . .why would she want Reese to stay away from Birdie?

How would that benefit her?

Her father didn't know, and he'd been too afraid to ask after Lilith showed him a live video that another demon was taking of Birdie back at the motel they were staying at at the time. Dean had tried and tried to get any other answer out of Reese besides "I wish I knew" as to why Lilith wanted him gone, but Reese truly didn't know the answer. Sam didn't understand it, but the longer he thought about it, he started to think he realized the truth.

Without Reese around, Birdie would've been completely on her own, and that was exactly what happened. But, why would they want that? She was an excellent hunter, but she still wasn't a match for Lilith⎯⎯⎯especially on her own.

It just didn't make any sense.

"What're you drawing back there?"

Birdie looked up, catching Dean's gaze in the rearview mirror. She raised her brow slightly, glancing down at her drawing before looking at Dean again. "Oh, I, uh. . .it's Kai," she said, faintly smiling. "I started it a few weeks ago, but I haven't had much time to work on it. . ."

"It looks good from what I can see," Sam complimented.

Birdie gave him a small smile, her cheeks turning a light shade of pink. "Thanks."

Dean adjusted his hands on the steering wheel, his gaze returning to the road. "You know, you haven't really talked about her lately," he pointed out.

"Yeah, I guess I just really haven't much time to think of anything besides Lucifer and. . .my father," she shrugged.

Dean slightly nodded, briefly glancing at Sam. "Speaking of your dad⎯⎯⎯"

"I don't wanna talk about him."

"We know he's the reason your phone keeps goin' off."

"So?" Birdie raised a brow.

"So. . ." Sam said, catching Birdie's eye, "You can't keep ignoring him forever."

Birdie scoffed. "He ignored me for seven years, Sam. I think I can do the same."

"I'd do it," Dean said.

"See?" Birdie told Sam, gesturing towards Dean.

"I'm not saying you have to talk to him," Sam denied. Birdie suspiciously narrowed her eyes. "That's⎯⎯⎯no. You don't have to talk to him ever again if you don't want to. No one would blame you if you didn't, Bird."

"Then what're you trying to say?" Birdie sighed.

"I'm trying to say, even if you don't plan on talking to him. . .you can still talk about him."

"And why would I wanna do that?"

"Because it's bothering you."

"No it's not."

Sam softly sighed, eyes softening as he held Birdie's gaze. "You know it's not healthy to keep everything bottled up inside."

"Says who?" Birdie retorted.

"Says doctors," Sam said.

"I don't know, Sammy," Dean said, glancing away from the road to look at his little brother. "You can't always trust a doctor's word."

Sam quietly huffed under his breath, giving Dean a harsh look.

Birdie sighed and shook her head, adjusting in her seat. "Sam, I think you of all people should understand why I don't wanna talk about my dad right now."

"I do, Bird, and that's why I'm⎯⎯⎯"

"You wanna make sure I don't hold it all in until it all bursts out at one time, I get it, I do," Birdie interrupted, a slight frown on her lips. "But Sam, now's just not the time. I don't wanna talk about my dad, alright? But, if I just so happen to feel the outburst coming, I'll be sure that you're the first person I go to so you can hear all about him."

"Birdie⎯⎯⎯"

She simply ignored Sam, putting in her other headphone and turning it up so she could no longer hear him even if he shouted at her. He heavily sighed, sinking into his seat in defeat. He frowned to himself, brows knitted together.

Dean raised a brow and Sam looked over when he felt Dean's stare. "What?" Sam asked.

"You had to know that was gonna go that way," Dean said. Sam rolled his eyes, just shaking his head. "Sammy, she's like me⎯⎯⎯" When Sam scrunched up his nose, Dean scoffed and shook his head, "when it comes to feelings. We weren't raised to talk about our feelings. Hell, we were raised to not even acknowledge 'em or talk about 'em."

Sam sighed. "But unlike you and me, Birdie doesn't hide hers that well. She might think she does. . .I can still see it. I can tell this whole thing is fuckin' with her."

"Anyone can see that, Sam," Dean said. "We'd be the same way if we were in her place."

"Yeah, it's just. . .it's almost like I can feel her pain, all of her sadness. . ."

"I think there's a word for that."

"Dean," Sam snapped. "The word is empathy, not whatever you got you're thinkin'."

"Just give her a few more days, Sam," Dean suggested. "If there's anyone who can get her to open up even if it's just a little, it's you, man."

☽ ༓ ☾

It genuinely felt good to have another case.

With the last one, Birdie felt like she didn't really contribute much to it. She did bust down a door that stunned her and the boys that she was able to do it, but much of her focus had wound up being on Maverick. That whole thing hadn't gone how she thought it would, but then again she wasn't exactly sure what she was expecting after the boy showed up and put a wrench in her plans. She actually had gotten a couple texts from Maverick since, most of which just asked how she was doing. She appreciated the fact he didn't mention or ask about what happened with her father. Though, he probably already heard or was told shortly after. She did, however, hesitate to respond. It was obvious she was ignoring Reese, but if she responded to Maverick and not Reese, well. . .she hated it but she would feel guilty. Just the mere thought had her frowning and she hated it.

Birdie pushed the thought to the back of her mind, focusing her attention on the coroner in front of her and the boys.

"You expect me to believe you're CDC?"

"Excuse me?" Sam asked.

"It's just that you're a day early," the coroner said, her eyes glancing over their faces with surprise. Birdie shifted, her eyes staying focused on the coroner. "First time in history I haven't sat on my ass waiting for you people."

"New administration. A change you can believe in," Dean said, nodding his head as he spoke.

"Right," the woman said, smiling though it didn't quite reach her eyes. She didn't buy that line⎯⎯⎯it sounded rehearsed to her. However, she wasn't going to make a fuss seeing that they were there and ready. So, she wasted no time in leading them down to the morgue.

She held the door open for them as they reached the morgue, the familiar chill greeting them. She stepped inside and led them across the room, stopping in front of the wall of freezers. Birdie stood off to the side, hearing the drawer slightly rattle as the coroner opened it and pulled the body out.

Birdie's eyes skimmed over the victim's features, but he looked nothing like what she was expecting. He looked like a dead, eighty year old man. The article had mentioned he was only twenty five. He shouldn't have had many wrinkles⎯⎯⎯if any⎯⎯⎯on his face. His skin was looser than that of a young person, even more wrinkles evident on his torso near the stitching on his chest from where the autopsy was done. A thin sheet covered his lower half, which Birdie was glad for.

"Meet Xavier. Date of birth⎯⎯⎯April third, nineteen eighty-four," the coroner said. Birdie looked at the boys, both of them just as confused as herself. The coroner noticed their surprise and confusion. "I know. I ran the DNA twice. That's definitely him."

"Well, he wasn't big on the sunscreen, huh?" Dean said.

Sam glanced at his brother before looking at the coroner again. "So, what's your theory?" he wondered.

"All I know is male, twenty-five years old, and he died of old age," she answered with a shrug. She didn't think it was true, but that was what all of her results had said. She ran multiple tests, double and triple checked the data. There wasn't anything to show he died from something else. She turned towards Dean and handed him the victim's file with all other information in it. "I'm not sure if this will help, but I'll be in my office if you need anything else."

"Thanks," Dean nodded.

She nodded back and walked away, her heels clicking against the tiled floor. Birdie watched the door close and then let out a sigh, facing Sam and Dean. "This doesn't make any sense," she said.

"No, but it looks like Bobby was right," Dean said, setting the file down on the table behind them. "There's somethin' here."

Dean pulled his phone out of his pocket, scrolling in search of Bobby's name. Sam grabbed the handle of the stretcher and pushed the body back inside, quickly closing the door. Dean started to make his way to the exit, Sam and Birdie following him. Dean put his phone to his ear after he clicked on Bobby's name and awaited the older man to answer. "You were right about this one. It's definitely a job," Dean said. Birdie fastened her pace to catch up to Dean, keeping quiet as she tried to listen in on the phone call. Sam was right beside her, eyes fixated on his brother. "Just the one body. . .couple missing persons, but usual for a town this size. . .You think they're connected?" Dean wondered. "You got it. And, by the way, how you doin'? Yeah. You know, just. . .in general?"

They came to a stop in the hall, Sam and Birdie sharing a glance before they looked at Dean. Birdie moved closer, ignoring Dean's sharp glare when she pressed up against his side so her ear was right by the phone and she could clearly hear Bobby.

"Oh, you mean my legs," Bobby scoffed. "Well, I'm just weepin' in my Haagen-Dazs. Idjit."

Birdie raised her brows, watching Dean sigh as he shut his phone. He slipped it into his jacket and then faced Sam and Birdie. "Come on," he instructed. "Bobby texted me Cliff Whitlow and Jesse Bagans' addresses."

"I can check out Jesse's place if you guys wanna check Cliff's?" Birdie suggested.

Dean tilted his head. "You wanna split up?"

Birdie shrugged. "It's not the first time we've ever split up, and I just figured we could cover more ground that way," she said. Dean glanced at Sam, sharing a subtle look that Birdie immediately noticed. She rolled her eyes, shaking her head at the Winchesters. Did they think she wouldn't catch that? "I think I can handle being on my own for an hour or two. And, I could use something to distract myself and not have the two of you watching me like I'm a porcelain doll that's about to break just because I just found out my dad's been alive this whole time and a demon told him to stay away from me and he actually listened but then he heard we might've been in danger and came to find us only to have me brought back to life by making a deal with a demon and didn't get the standard ten years like Dean and only has a short amount of time left to live." By the time Birdie was done talking she was out of breath, her eyes flickering between Sam and Dean as they shared a look with each other. She internally winced, quickly shaking her head as she made a face before either of them could respond. "Nope, nope, I⎯⎯⎯we're not unpacking all of that right now. We got a case to work. C'mon, let's move it."

Sam's lips fell open as Birdie briskly walked past him and Dean, waving her hand at them without looking back when Dean tried to ask how she was gonna get to Jesse's house to inspect it. Birdie could feel their eyes stuck to the back of her head like glue, their thoughts rattling their brains while she just got farther away from them. She turned a corner and a sense of relief lifted off of her shoulders.

Having her every move being watched as if she was a toddler who needed constant supervision was growing rather tiresome. They had good intentions, however it was really only making things worse Birdie felt.

Birdie forced herself to focus on the case as she made her way to Jesse Bagans house⎯⎯a man who was recently declared missing when his sister discovered he wasn't anywhere to be found. Two days passed since the sister last talked to him, not another peep out of him despite her calling and texting him a few times. Her worry increased for her brother and so she went to his house to see if he was there only to find him gone and some things missing. Things were thrown about in his bedroom, clothes littering the floor and the bed. Pictures were knocked off the walls, some broken with tiny pieces of glass stuck in the carpet. As soon as she discovered the mess she called the police, demanding that something be done to find her brother. News had quickly spread across town, which worked for Birdie. She just hoped that she could find something unusual there that could give her a hint as to what they were dealing with.

Birdie frowned as pushed through the small crowd that had descended on the street as soon as they noticed the police action, making it to the front of the police line. There was an officer standing on the other side of the barricade, making sure no one who wasn't law enforcement would be able to get through. Birdie reached into her pocket and flashed her badge at him, nodding at the officer when he let her through.

She walked past a couple of police cruisers, hearing bits and pieces about Jesse Bagans⎯⎯⎯he was a deadbeat, couldn't keep a job, had a gambling addiction⎯⎯⎯each one a negative fact. Birdie tuned it out and kept walking, walking towards the house the police were walking in and out from. Her eyes skimmed over the officers, nodding in acknowledgement at some of them as they moved past her. She headed towards the garage where the door was wide open; it seemed that was where most of the action was going on. Four officers were inside while the crime scene unit took pictures of the body of an old man.

Birdie slowed to a stop on the driveway, surprised to see there was a body. She hadn't heard about a body being found.

A black tarp covered a majority of the body, but there was a hand sticking out of the side. From the wrinkles and age spots on the skin, she could tell it was someone of old age. There was a red tattoo evident on the arm⎯⎯⎯a robin nestled on a branch.

"⎯⎯⎯swears up and down that it's someone else."

"But he has the same exact tattoos."

"That's what I told her, but⎯⎯⎯"

"Who else could it be⎯⎯⎯"

An officer noticed Birdie, their mouth closing as the blonde woman approached them. Birdie offered them a forced smile as they all noticed her and she showed her badge. The officer looked at her in confusion, furrowing her brows together. "A fed?" the woman asked. "Weren't some of you just down at the station this morning?"

Birdie nodded. "Yeah, we were," she answered. "I was just on my way outta town when I heard about this. Thought I'd come check it out."

"I don't know what you guys think you're gonna find," another officer said. He shook his head, glancing at the covered body. "This is the second guy to drop dead from what we assume is a heart attack, but it just doesn't make any sense. He matches the description of the man who lives here, but his sister swears up and down that it's not him."

"What makes her say that?"

"This guy looks, what, seventy, eighty years old? Jesse Bagans is only thirty-two."

Birdie's lips parted, eyes glancing on the arm sticking out and then looking at the officer again. "That's Jesse Bagans? The guy who's been missing for two, three days now?"

A taller officer who was standing on the other side of the body shifted, capturing Birdie's attention. "This is his place, ain't it?"

Birdie rolled her eyes and looked at the other officer she'd been talking to originally. "You guys said something about his sister⎯⎯⎯is she still here?"

"No. She was pretty distraught so another officer offered to take her home."

Birdie nodded, letting out a faint sigh. "You find anything strange inside the house? Anything that looked or smelt like it didn't fit?"

"What do you mean by smell?" the sarcastic officer asked.

"Exactly how it sounds," Birdie sharply replied. "Were there any weird odors? Like something was rotting? Burnt?"

"What does it matter?" the officer shrugged. "Guy died of old age. Who cares about the inside?"

Birdie rolled her eyes, her annoyance clear on her expression. Birdie shook her head and walked towards the door that led to the inside, giving the officer a glare as she moved past him. She entered the house, noticing some markings that other officers had placed so the CSI's could collect all the data and samples they needed. She glanced around the house, noticing only a few messes here and there.

She turned to the left, moving down a hall that she assumed would lead her to the bedroom. She peeked into two rooms⎯⎯⎯a bathroom and an office⎯⎯⎯which didn't offer much expect more messes. From what she'd overheard from the officers about Jesse Bagans, the messes didn't really surprise her. She looked in the last room, finally reaching the bedroom. She took a few steps inside, narrowed eyes scanning the messy room. Compared to the rest of the house, the bedroom was certainly messier than the rest. She pursed her lips, sniffing twice. There definitely was a smell, but it wasn't anything strange.

She moved towards the closet, crouching down to look at the bottom. There were a ton of clothes just piled on top of each other, a funky odor emitting from some or all of the piles. Birdie scrunched up her nose, shifting to stand up. Her eyes skimmed over something in the corner of the closet, causing her to stop. She furrowed her brows, nudging some of the clothes out of the way. Her disgust was still on her face, but it was replaced by a distinct look of surprise when she saw it was a safe. She didn't even need to try to open as it was already cracked open.

She reached forward, slowly opening it to reveal. . .nothing.

It was completely empty.

Birdie heavily sighed, closing the safe.

She was hoping to find something useful in there, something that could explain why it appeared he might've packed up his life and tried to leave. She couldn't be sure, though. But, from the photos she saw through the house, she did see that Jesse had a robin tattoo on his left arm. It perfectly matched the tattoo on the dead body.

She wasn't sure how, but she knew that that was Jesse Bagans out there.

While Birdie didn't learn anything from Jesse's house besides the fact that he somehow died of old age even though he was only 35 years old, Sam and Dean had found some interesting things out from Cliff. He was meant to be an old man, but when Sam and Dean found him in some skeevy motel, he was a young man somehow⎯⎯⎯his youth restored to him from winning a poker game against a man with Irish accent. It was against a witch, no doubt. She caught back up with the boys and they picked her up a few streets away from Jesse's house. They talked to Bobby for a bit and he told them that the case wasn't that unusual⎯⎯⎯there were hundreds of cases like this one. You play a witch for years; if you win, you get your years back, and if you lose, you lose your years. The witch they were dealing with was bar hopping, finding the players rather than the players finding him. It would be tricky for sure, but Birdie had hope for her and her boys.

"I don't think I've had a bacon cheeseburger since I've been alive."

"Yes you h⎯⎯⎯" Sam stopped talking, turning his head to give Birdie a pointed look. She snickered at his reaction, innocently shrugging her shoulders. "That's not funny."

She playfully scoffed, swatting his shoulder. "Oh, come on, it's a little bit funny, Sammy."

He shook his head as the exited the bar⎯⎯⎯another dead end in their search for trying to find the witch⎯⎯⎯with Birdie right behind him. Dean was somewhere nearby, at his last bar for the night as well. Sam had just gotten off the phone with his big brother who was happy to remind Sam it was his turn to pick up dinner. Birdie was more than ready to eat; she didn't even remember the last time she ate something.

"What do you have in mind?" Sam wondered.

Birdie let out a quiet sigh, shrugging her shoulders as they walked down the sidewalk. "I don't know. . .everything sounds good to me. What about you?"

Sam shook his head. "I could eat anywhere."

Birdie softly chuckled, glancing at Sam. She looked forward again, her eyes flickering to the other side of the street. Her gaze stopped on a man and a woman standing outside of a small restaurant, wrapped in each other's embrace. They pulled away at the same time and looked into each other's eyes for a few seconds before they both leaned in for a kiss. Sam followed Birdie's gaze, noticing the loved up couple. Looking at them, he couldn't stop himself from thinking about the kiss he and Birdie shared in the lake.

"Do you. . .do you remember the lake?"

Birdie knew exactly what he was talking about. "Ah, the lake. . ." she slowly said, letting out a nervous laugh. "Yeah, I do. . ."

"We really haven't had a chance to talk about that day," Sam said, glancing between Birdie and the path in front of them.

"What is there to really talk about?" Birdie asked.

Sam slightly furrowed his brows. "Well, I mean. . ."

Birdie slowed to a stop as she fully faced Sam. He pursed his lips together and turned as well, tucking his hands in the pockets of his jacket. "I remember that day perfectly. I just. . ."

"You just what?"

Birdie bit the inside of her cheek, unsure as she looked at Sam. "I just have too much on my mind at the moment to really...think more on the-the kiss. We...probably should talk about it, but could we do it another time?"

Sam nodded, though his disappointment lingered in his eyes. "Yeah, 'course, Bird."

Birdie nodded, starting to walk again. Sam did the same, the two walking in a silence that neither of them enjoyed. They were only a few streets away from the motel they'd gotten a room at, and thankfully they were near some fast food joints.

"Burger King, Hardee's, Jack in the Box⎯⎯⎯"

"I think I could eat anything from anywhere," Birdie said, breathing out a laugh. "Though I do kinda wish there was a Bigerson's here."

"You would think there'd be one," Sam said. "It's only the most popular restaurant in the US."

Birdie smiled in his direction and then glanced at the buildings. Her eyes fell on a specific one and she nudged Sam with her arm. "There's a Hardee's," she said. "You okay with that?"

"Yeah." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a credit card; one that didn't actually belong to him. "Clay Miller's paying for it."

Birdie snickered. "Aw, how sweet of him."

Sam chuckled along with her. Together they made their way across the street and headed towards Hardee's. The inside was fairly empty aside from a group of teens in one of the corners. It didn't take long for their order to be ready and they were on their way to the motel. The Impala was parked a few spots down from their room, a sign that Dean had already returned.

Sam opened the door for him and Birdie, letting Birdie enter first. She adjusted the holder of drinks in her hand, automatically moving towards the dining table. "Hey, Dean?" Sam called, sitting the bag of food down by their drinks. "You find anything?"

"Uh, you might say." Sam and Birdie heard an unfamiliar voice answer, causing them to share a brief look. They quickly turned around, their gazes falling on an old man as he stepped out of the bathroom in a dark blue robe.

Startled, Sam and Birdie immediately drew their guns. "Who the hell are you?!" Sam demanded.

"Guys, relax," the man said, looking at them with some offense, "It's me."

Sam and Birdie shared another look, cautiously lowering their guns.

"Wait. . ." Birdie slowly said, suspiciously narrowing her eyes at the man. "There's no fucking way⎯⎯⎯"

"Dean?" Sam breathed out.

The old man, now looking a little shameful, nodded his head. "Hi."

"What the fuck happened?"

"I, you know. . .found the game." Dean headed for the food, rummaging through the bag for his burger.

Sam and Birdie continued to stare at Dean, taking in his old features. God, he looked so old. "You f⎯⎯⎯I thought you said you were g-good at poker," Sam said.

"I am. Shut up," Dean said, dismissively waving his hand at his little brother. He grabbed a burger out of the bag, making sure it in fact had bacon on it as he opened the wrapper. "So, you guys were just gonna shoot some old guy? Is that it?"

Birdie scoffed, setting her gun on the table before placing her hands on her hips. "You've seen a monster disguised as an old person before, haven't you?"

Dean just narrowed his eyes at her as he took a bite of his food.

"We didn't know what you were," Sam said. "I mean, have you seen you? You look like⎯⎯⎯"

"The old chick in Titanic," Dean said with his mouth full of his burger. "I know, shut up."

"I was gonna say Emperor Palpatine."

Birdie snickered, glancing at Sam. "That's a good one."

The door thudded open, causing all three hunters to look over. Bobby rolled in his wheelchair, pushing the door shut behind him. "I see you met John McCain there," he said.

"Yeah. Either of you wanna tell us what happened?" Sam asked.

"Bobby's an idiot," Dean answered, talking around the food in his mouth again. "That's what happened."

"Hey, nobody asked you to play," Bobby snapped.

"Right," Dean scoffed. "I should have just let you die."

"And for damn sure, nobody asked you to lose!"

Sam and Birdie shared an amused look, snickering at the old men bickering with each other. "It's like Grumpy Old Men," Sam said.

Dean and Bobby turned to Sam, neither amused. "Shut up, Sam," they said.

Birdie raised her brows, chuckling as Sam's face fell. She grabbed the bag of food and reached inside, pulling out another bacon burger.

"What the hell were you thinking?" Dean asked, looking at Bobby. "He's a witch. He's been playin' poker since guys wore tights."

Bobby shook his head, turning his gaze elsewhere. "You just don't get it."

"Yeah, I get it, Bobby. You saw a chance to turn the hands of the clock back and get out of that damn chair. Pretty tempting." Dean scoffed under his breath. "I can imagine."

"No, you can't," Bobby firmly said.

"You got me. I never been paralyzed. But I tell you something⎯⎯⎯I've been to hell, and there's an archangel out there wanting me to drop the soap." Birdie rolled her eyes, taking a small bite of her burger. "Look at me! My junk's rustier than yours! You hear me bellyaching? Huh?"

"Uh, actually, yeah," Sam said, making a face when he heard something odd.

Dean's stomach made a strange rumbling sound, this time reaching Birdie's ears as well. Her eyes widened, brows raising as she looked at Dean. "Oh!" Dean quickly sat down in a chair, still holding his burger. "I'm havin' a heart attack."

Birdie nearly choked on her food. "Wait, for real?" she asked, setting her food down.

"No, he's not," Bobby answered, rolling his eyes.

Dean let out a sharp breath, expectantly raising a brow at the man. "What the hell is it?"

"Acid reflux. Guys your age can't digest certain foods. You're gonna need to put down that cheeseburger." Dean looked down at the burger and heavily sighed, reluctantly putting it on the table. Birdie took a small step forward, grabbing his burger.

"Hey⎯⎯⎯"

"We can't let it go to waste," Birdie said, sinking into a chair. She now had two burgers in front of her that she was fully prepared to devour.

Bobby gave her an odd look but then he just shook his head. "You want to keep emotin', or you want to talk about solving this little issue of yours?" He asked Dean. "It's gotta be about the chips."

Dean leaned forward, moving his hand as he spoke. "I slid 'em across, Patrick did his little witchy number, and you prettied up in a hurry."

"I mean, what are y'all thinking?" Sam asked, sitting on one of the beds. Birdie slightly turned in her chair so she could see everyone at once. "Some kind of magic chips or somethin'?"

Bobby nodded. "Definitely."

"You remember what he chanted?" Dean asked Bobby.

"Yep⎯⎯⎯every word."

"All right, then let's find out where he stashes his chips," Sam said.

"And steal me fifty. Benjamin Button me back into burger shape." Dean burped and Birdie grimaced, scooting back in her chair. "What do you think?"

"I think you ought to put some clothes on," Bobby replied, nudging his head at the robe Dean was still wearing.

"I agree," Birdie said. "That color brings out your wrinkles."

"You say that, but I know who some of your celebrity crushes are."

Birdie falsely laughed. "Ha, okay. Some of them are older, but none of them are as old as you."

"Don't think because I look like this that I can't kick your ass."

"I don't think you can't," Birdie said. "I know you can't."

"Are you idjits almost done?" Bobby sighed. "We're not gettin' any younger you know."

Dean grumbled under his breath and stood up. Birdie chuckled, her eyes following him as he headed towards the bathroom. "Dean, wait, I gotta ask you something."

He paused, narrowing his eyes at her. "If you're about to make some kind of joke⎯⎯⎯"

"Have a little faith in me, Dean." He rolled his eyes but motioned for her to ask. A smile spread across her lips and Sam watched in amusement. "All I wanted to ask you is if you could train me in the ways of the dark side⎯⎯⎯"

Dean ignored her and entered the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. Sam and Birdie laughed, a small smile spreading across Bobby's lips.

His gaze lingered on Birdie, unable to bring himself to look away.

He couldn't believe she'd died, or the fact that Reese was still alive and had sold his soul in order to bring Birdie back.

He was angry at himself for not being able to stop her from dying in the first place, that he didn't see that something was off with her until it was too late. He was angry at Reese for being a coward and going into hiding rather than continue to raise his daughter. He was just angry for so, so many things⎯⎯⎯if he'd still had his legs he could've been of more help. And, just maybe he could've somehow saved Birdie and prevented Lucifer from being freed.

☽ ༓ ☾

Things were never as they seemed in the hunting world. Just because someone appeared to be human didn't mean they were. They could've even been kind, sweet, caring⎯⎯⎯everything you'd want in a person, someone you'd call a friend. But, behind closed doors their true colors would come out and they would unleash a world of pain.

When Dean had pointed Patrick out as they waited outside a bar, Birdie wasn't surprised to see he looked like a typical man. Tall, dark head of hair that was slightly curled at the tips, and wearing a nice suit.

What did surprise her was the fact that he ran out into the road only to be struck by an oncoming car. Birdie flinched, a look of horror crossing her face. 'What the fuck?' she thought to herself.

The driver immediately got out in a panic, rushing to Patrick to check on him. Patrick's head was turned at an awkward angle and the driver couldn't feel a pulse. The driver ran over to a nearby construction crew, arms frantically moving as he hurried over to them for aid. "Guys, get some help! He came out of nowhere!" he shouted, desperation etched in his panicked voice. "Right out in front of me!"

Birdie had slowly blinked, her eyes flickering to Patrick when she saw him move. She raised her brows, silently watching him quickly get up and get in the car of the man who hit him. Birdie tilted her head, noticing there wasn't a single cut or bruise on the man. The driver and the construction workers looked between him and where Patrick got hit, all very confused.

Dean breathed out an amused laugh. "I got to say, I kind of like the guy."

Birdie slowly turned her head to look at him, brows furrowed together. "You like the guy who made you look like a raisin?"

As anyone could have expected, they went back and forth bickering after Birdie's question until Bobby angrily put a stop to it. They mumbled out half-assed apologies and they were back to following Patrick. He drove for about ten minutes and then parked in front of a modern apartment building. He walked inside and disappeared from sight, leaving Birdie and the others to simply wait until he came back out so they could go and see what all Patrick had been doing⎯⎯⎯and hopefully find his poker chips so they could reverse Dean back to his real age.

They'd been outside of the building for twenty minutes so far, simply waiting for Patrick to leave. They chatted back and forth, theorizing what could be the fastest way to stop Patrick. The chips had to be magical, bewitched to alter the age of the winner as well as the loser. But, there was a chance that taking the chips and destroying them wouldn't work. If so, they needed to have something else in mind.

"This is taking forever," Birdie grumbled, slouched against the back of Dean's seat. Sam was behind Bobby's, leaning against the side of the van with his legs stretched out in front of him. Birdie had her legs on top of his, a small pack of Oreos in her lap that she'd only shared with Sam so far. "Can't we just go in already?"

"And run into Patrick?" Dean asked. "Who knows what kind of witchy shit he'd do to us. No, we have to wait until he leaves."

"We don't even know which apartment he's in," Birdie retorted.

"Yes we do," Bobby said, glancing back at the younger woman. "The sixth window on the top floor came on not long after he went in. It's him."

Sam furrowed his brows together. "What? That doesn't mean anything."

"He's a fuckin' witch. Of course he'd get a room on the top floor⎯⎯⎯i'm sure he used some magic to get it, too."

Birdie softly sighed. "If you say so..."

Sam looked at the bag of Oreos, giving Birdie a small smile as he held his hand out. She let out a long sigh, but a small smile appeared on her lips. She reached in and grabbed a few, dropping them into Sam's hand.

"Hey, I want some," Dean said, turning around in the seat⎯⎯⎯as best as he could without hurting his achy hips⎯⎯⎯with his hand held out.

Birdie scoffed, pushing his arm away. "You can't have these. They're bad for your heart."

"Bullshit⎯⎯⎯"

"Would you idjits shut up? Look." Bobby nudged his head and they all looked, noticing Patrick walking out of the complex. He walked towards the car that he stole and climbed in, beginning to drive off in the opposite direction of the van. Dean looked at Sam, who looked at Birdie, who looked at Bobby, who looked at Birdie, who looked at Sam, who looked at Dean, who looked at Patrick; Birdie had no idea what any of those looks meant.

"Alright, I don't see him anymore," Sam said after Patrick's car disappeared from sight. "Let's go."

Birdie tossed a few more Oreos into her mouth and shoved them in her bag. Sam walked to the back of the van and opened the door, taking Birdie's hand to help her climb out. She gave him a small smile as a thank you. Sam grabbed Bobby's wheelchair out of the van as well and wheeled it to his door, helping him get settled into the seat. Dean started to cross the street towards the complex, Birdie close behind him as Sam wheeled Bobby.

Dean held the door to the complex open, allowing the others to enter the building. They headed towards the elevator and Birdie frowned when she saw a sign taped on the elevator.

ELEVATOR OUT OF ORDER. SORRY FOR THE INCONVENIENCE.

"Well, I'm out," Bobby sighed with defeat.

"Me and Sam can head up and you and Birdie⎯⎯⎯"

"No, I'm going up there too. Who knows what's waiting for us up there." She turned to Bobby, raising her brows. "Bobby?"

Bobby looked at her for a few seconds, nodding his head. Then he looked at Sam and Dean. "I don't need no babysitter, and neither does she. You kids head on up. I'll wait in the van."

"Alright, well I'll help you⎯⎯⎯"

"Sam, I'm fine. I can get it. Just hurry up before he gets back."

Bobby didn't wait for a response as he turned himself around, wheeling towards the exit. Birdie watched him for a few seconds and started to make her way to the stairs with the boys. Sam and Birdie jogged up the stairs, Dean gradually making his way behind them at a slightly slower pace. Sam glanced over his shoulder, shaking his head as he stopped. Birdie followed his gaze, noticing that Dean was taking the steps one at a time. "Dean," Sam said. Dean looked up and saw his little brother point to a large 2 that was on the wall.

Dean heavily sighed.

Birdie chuckled. "Don't be so glum. Men your age need as much exercise as they can get."

"You oughta respect your elders," Dean snapped.

Birdie just laughed and continued up the stairs, Sam close behind her. She could faintly hear Dean's steps, taking his sweet time as he made his way upwards. They continued further up into the building, trying to find the room Bobby believed Patrick was living in. Sam held the door open, allowing Birdie to walk out into the hall first. He looked at the stairs, shaking his head when he didn't see Dean. He walked out, giving Birdie a look as he stopped. Birdie chuckled, shrugging her shoulders. "At least this gives us a chance to catch our breath," she snickered.

Sam chuckled, looking at the door. Eventually, Dean finally exited the stairwell, breathing hard. Birdie walked down the hall with the boys, stopping in front of a door. Hopefully it was the right one. Dean trudged along, leaning against the wall in an attempt to catch his breath. Birdie faced him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, we'll get you back to your normal self in no time," she softly said.

Dean nodded. "If you say so."

"Have hope," Birdie said, nudging his arm as Sam lock-picked the door. "The dark side of the force is with you, Grandpa Palpatine."

Dean scoffed. If he wasn't still so out of breath still, he would've given her a snippy response.

Sam shook his head and motioned for them to enter Patrick's apartment now that he had the door open. Birdie cautiously walked in after Sam, her eyes taking in the luxurious apartment.

It was modern, donning different shades of black and white. The living room consisted of three gray couches and a round coffee table in the middle with nothing on top of it. A large, flat screen TV was on the wall above a fireplace, not a single speck of dust on any surface. Birdie wondered how much time Patrick really spent there if there wasn't any dust, or if he used some kind of spell to clean the place. Some candles were lit in the rooms, the flames flickering every now and then as the wicks slowly burned down.

Birdie got to work rummaging through the apartment with the boys, going through every drawer she spotted. She kept an eye out for any sign of the poker chips, hoping that she or one of the boys would locate them before Patrick returned. When the dining room proved to be a dead end, Birdie moved onto the bathroom. As expected, there was nothing in there. She just wanted to check to be sure, though. Then she went into the bedroom, checking every dresser, the walk in closet, and any spot that could've been a hiding place.

She found nothing, though.

"What the fuck?" Birdie huffed in frustration.

She went to one of the bedside tables again, pulling out the top drawer. She moved some knick knacks around, grimacing when she touched something that resembled a small bone. She nudged some bags of dried leaves out of the way, halting when she found a large wad of cash. She pursed her lips in thought, glancing around the room as if making Patrick wasn't suddenly there to catch her in the act. She snickered to herself and grabbed the cash, shutting the door with her knee and slipping the cash into her back pocket.

"Sam? Bird?" Dean called out.

Birdie stepped out of the bedroom when she heard her name, heading towards the living room where Dean was now standing. He was in front of a wood cabinet, the top doors opened to reveal a large safe.

"Dime-store model," Dean said. "Piece of cake."

Dean turned the dial, squinting and leaning forward and then backwards. It appeared that he was struggling to read the numbers on the dial. Sam and Birdie shared a look and Sam sighed.

"It's like Mission: Pathetic," Sam said, nudging Dean out of his way. "Watch out."

Birdie watched Sam turn the dial, pausing a few times. He stopped one last time and pulled, opening the safe. Birdie stepped closer, her eyes immediately catching sight of the poker chips that were stored inside.

"I could have done that," Dean said.

Sam raised his brows. "No you couldn't."

"Yes I could."

"No, you⎯⎯⎯"

"Oh, for the love of god," Birdie dramatically groaned, shaking her head at the brothers. "We don't have time for this. Dean looks so old that he makes fuckin' Dumbledore look young. Just grab the damn chips and let's get the hell outta here."

Sam stared at Birdie for a few seconds, clearing his throat. Then he started to grab handfuls of chips, stuffing them into his pockets.

"What are you doing?"

Sam, Dean, and Birdie abruptly turned around, eyes wide as they'd been caught. A blonde haired woman was now standing a few inches away from them, wearing a black dress and large silver locket. How did they not hear her come in?

Perhaps. . .

Dean tilted his head and squinted. "Aren't you the chick from the bar?" he asked.

"I'm a lot more than that."

She held up a hand and clenched it into a fist, twisting it. Dean doubled over, eyes clenched shut and hands balled into fists. Sam grunted as well, slightly leaning forward in pain. Birdie furrowed her brows, feeling a strange sensation in her abdomen. However, it didn't feel painful⎯⎯⎯if anything it felt like minor period cramps.

The woman narrowed her eyes at Birdie and went to speak, but Patrick rushed into the room and put a hand on the woman's arm. "It's all right, sweetheart. It's all right. They're harmless." The woman reluctantly let them go and Birdie's frown deepened as she looked at the boys.

"What the hell was that? You didn't even flinch." Sam whispered to her.

"I don't know," she replied.

Patrick stepped forward, crossing his arms. "You kids want chips? Take 'em. They're just chips, Einsteins. It's showmanship. This may come as a shock, but the magic does not lie in a pile of crappy plywood or in any phony abracadabra. It's in the nine-hundred-year-old witch," he explained. "You three want years? Score 'em the old-fashioned way," he said, putting a toothpick between his teeth. "Texas hold 'em."

"Fine. Let's do it," Dean said.

Patrick pulled a card out of his pocket and held it up. It was the eight of hearts. "What card am I holding up?" Dean squinted at it for a few seconds and looked down in shame. He couldn't tell. "That's what I thought. If your eyesight's that bad, what about your memory? I'm not a murderer." He put the card back in his pocket, locking his gaze on Sam. "You, on the other hand. . ."

Dean and Birdie both looked back at Sam with similar expressions. "No, Sam."

"Dean. . ." Sam said.

"What, Sam not much of a player?" Patrick asked. Dean and Birdie glared at him. "Okay, well, happy trails, Dean. Enjoy the twilight of your life. Should have taken better care of that ticker, though."

Patrick opened the door, the woman standing beside him now. "You're free to go."

Dean took the hint to leave and started to head for the door with Sam and Birdie.

"Oh, but, Sam. . ." They stopped just outside the door, looking back at the witch. "Your brother's situation⎯⎯⎯that's punishment enough, but I can't let you leave without a small parting gift." Patrick clapped his hands three times, all without saying anything each time.

Sam furrowed his brows together. "What are you doing?"

"You'll find out soon enough."

Patrick looked at Birdie and she put her hand up, shaking her head when he opened his mouth to speak. "I don't need any parting gift from you, thank you very much."

Patrick slightly laughed, amusement twinkling in his eyes. "Actually, I wasn't going to give you one. But, I am going to have to ask that you return the cash you stole from me. . .and how you managed to be unaffected by my girlfriend's spell?"

At that, Sam and Dean quickly turned their heads to look at the woman.

She pursed her lips together, ignoring their gaze. She slowly reached into her pocket, pulling out the large wad of cash. She held it out to Patrick, not missing the way his girlfriend's glare burned into her. "That's the only thing you'll be getting from me, asshole."

Patrick softly chuckled, taking it and putting it in his back pocket. "Thank you very much, Birdie."

Dean shook his head, motioning for Sam and Birdie to move. "Let's get out of here."

"Oh, Birdie? You did try to steal from me," Patrick told Birdie just as she stepped out into the hall. She narrowed her eyes, glaring at the witch. "You'll find your gift soon enough."

"Come on," Sam huffed, placing a hand on her shoulder to guide her away. They walked in silence, each of them replaying the last hour in their minds.

"What a dick," Birdie grumbled.

"What do you expect?" Dean huffed. "He's a witch!"

"Oh, shut up, grandpa," Birdie muttered. Thankfully, Dean didn't hear what she said.

When they reached the lobby, Birdies slowed and reached out to touch Sam's arm. He stopped, looking at her in confusion. Dean stopped as well. "What do you think he did to us?" she wondered.

"Who the hell cares?" Dean piped in, facing his brother and Birdie. "I still look like I could be Sam's grandpa!"

Birdie just sighed, shaking her head as she started to walk towards the exit. Sam scratched at his thighs as he walked ahead of her, frowning slightly. He opened the door, holding it open for Dean and Birdie. He scratched at his thighs again as they started to walk, unable to ease the itching sensation. Birdie slowed her pace, meeting Dean's eye when they both noticed Sam's insistent scratching. Sam looked over at them and shrugged his shoulders. He didn't know why he was so itchy all of a sudden.

"Dude. . ." Dean said, "I believe that he-witch gave you the clap."   

Sam went stiff for a moment, realizing it made sense.

Birdie's eyes widened, watching Sam march off towards the van as Dean simply laughed. Birdie frowned, quickly looking at the oldest Winchester. "What the hell do you think he might've given me then?" she asked.

Dean snickered, shrugging his shoulders. "I ain't got no idea, but you'll probably start feeling it real quick whatever it was."

Birdie tiredly walked towards the parking lot with the Winchesters and Bobby the next morning, her body just barely functioning as she hadn't had any coffee yet. She hadn't said much that morning and had mainly just observed and listened to what the men said and did. She still didn't feel any different nor did she notice any changes to her body that were done by Patrick's powers. Whatever he did, it was certainly taking its time to start affecting her.

"Little help here?" Bobby asked with a strain in his voice.

Birdie quickly spun around, noticing Bobby was struggling to make it up the incline on his own in his wheelchair. Birdie hurried over to him before either of the boys got the chance, quickly pushing him up the hill to catch up with the boys.

"You know, I still think I should play," Sam said.

At the top of the incline, Bobby took over wheeling himself. Dean stopped walking, facing the group.

"No, no, no. You're not good enough," Dean said. "I'm better. Bobby's way better. We both lost."

"Exactly," Bobby said.

"I could do it," Birdie offered.

Bobby immediately shook his head. "No chance in hell. You don't even know how to play poker."

Birdie huffed, giving him a glare. He wasn't wrong.

"So, what?" Sam asked, bringing the attention back to himself. "So we don't get a say in this anymore?"

"Sammy, Birdie, when you get to be our age⎯⎯⎯"

"You're thirty, Dean!" Sam snapped at Dean. "Look, I've watched you hustle plenty of poker⎯⎯⎯"

"Knowing the game is not enough," Bobby interrupted, looking between Sam and Birdie. "It's not about playing the cards."

"It's about playin' the other guy. I know that."

"Well, hooray for you. All I'm saying is, I played this guy. I know his style. I can take him."

Sam huffed, placing his hands on his hips.

Birdie frowned, looking at Bobby. "Bobby, you've already lost to him once." Birdie said.

"I can do it."

"No, Bobby," Dean said. "Birdie's right. You don't have enough years in the bank."

"I got enough."

"No, you'll die if you lose, Bobby," Sam said.

"Exactly," Birdie said.

"So what if I do, huh? What exactly am I living for, huh? The damn apocalypse? Watching men die bloody while I sit in this chair, can't take a step to help 'em?"

Dean took a step towards Bobby, a frown on his lips. "Bobby⎯⎯⎯"

Bobby held his hand up to make Dean stop talking. "No, no. It's the facts. I'm old. . .and broke down. . .and I can't. . ." Bobby took a moment to breathe. "I ain't a hunter no more. I'm useless. And if I wasn't such a coward, I'd have stuck a gun in my mouth the day I got home from the hospital."

Those words hit Birdie like she was directly punched in the gut.

Her breath left her body, her hardened expression faltering as her eyes looked at Bobby. He wasn't looking at any of them, very aware of the way they were all now looking at him. Birdie's lips curled into a frown, heart rate now beating at twice the rate it was seconds ago. To think that Bobby didn't think his life meant anything because he could no longer use his legs. . .it shattered Birdie's heart. Since coming back she really hadn't talked to him all that much. If she had, maybe she would have realized how he was feeling sooner.

"Bobby, you are not playing again. I'm not. . .letting you do that. There's another way out of this. There's got to be," Sam said. "And I'm gonna find it."

Dean, Bobby, and Birdie still weren't sure about Sam going up against Patrick. He'd already beat Dean and Bobby who were two of the best poker players there ever was. Sam didn't have much experience playing the game. Most of his knowledge came from watching Dean play over the years. And he was smart, smarter than most, which helped get him out of sticky situations. However, witches were something else entirely and Birdie was afraid that Sam was getting in over his head.

"Would you quit your poutin'? He'll be fine."

Birdie narrowed her eyes at Dean. "You don't know that. You and Bobby have both already lost. If Sam loses I'll be stuck with Emperor Palpatine, Obi Wan Kenobi, and Anakin Skywalker⎯⎯⎯the old, Darth Vader version."

Dean shifted, adjusting his grip on the shovel in his hand as she shared a glance with Bobby. "Doesn't that make you Padmé then?" he asked.

Birdie opened her mouth and then quickly shut it. "We don't have time for this. Start diggin', Dean."

Bobby chuckled under his breath, shrugging when Dean looked at him. "You heard her. Get to diggin', boy."

Dean grumbled under his breath but turned his back, starting to dig. Birdie folded her arms over her chest, pursing her lips as she thought about the woman who had been in Patrick's apartment⎯⎯⎯Lia, his girlfriend. She had been in their motel room when Dean and Bobby went back and Sam and Birdie went to the car to grab some things, giving them a spell that would reverse all of the deals Patrick had made. None of them truly believed she would turn on Patrick, though she claimed she had her reasons. It was a risk to attempt the spell, but time was ticking for Dean. They didn't have any other options.

Against Dean, Bobby, and Birdie's wishes, it was decided Sam would play Patrick and hopefully win back the years Dean had lost. While he did that, Birdie, Dean, and Bobby would go to the nearest cemetery and dig up one of the last things they needed for the spell⎯⎯⎯the jawbone of a murderer.

Birdie glanced down at Bobby, furrowing her brows when she saw he was already looking at her. "What?" she asked.

"You know, you got a shovel too⎯⎯⎯"

"Shh," Birdie interjected, shaking her hand out at Bobby to get him to quiet. Dean continued to dig, muttering and grumbling to himself. "I wanna see how long it takes him to realize."

"You're the young one."

"Yeah, but this is more his and Sam's thing⎯⎯⎯the men do the dirty work. I just keep watch usually."

"How have you managed to survive so many hunts by yourself?"

Birdie huffed, giving the man a glare. "It's different when I'm by myself."

Bobby forced out a chuckle, glancing at Dean. He was making good progress, given his current age, that is. "It's been a long time since you've been by yourself," Bobby said. "A long time."

Birdie turned a tad more towards Bobby. "Why do you say it like that?"

Bobby let out a tired sigh, meeting Birdie's gaze. "Felicity⎯⎯⎯the demithan."

Birdie immediately frowned, her gaze falling to the ground. She hadn't had a chance to really talk to Bobby about that yet, or anything for that matter. She still had to remind herself that Felicity wasn't a Knight of Hell and was really a Demithan; something Birdie only learned when she was trapped inside her body while Felicity tried to stop Ruby.  "Bobby. . ."

"Jawbone of a murderer. Great," Dean muttered. He stuck the shovel in the dirt, breathing hard as he turned towards Birdie and Bobby. "You know, this really fuckin' sucks. How do we even know her spell's gonna work?"

"We don't. But we ain't got a Plan B. Now, less flappin' and more diggin'," Bobby said.

Dean went to move another scoop of dirt, and something in his body cracked. "Oh, God!" Dean moaned. Bobby rolled his eyes. "My elbows! I'm all creaky."

"Hurry up, you crybaby," Bobby said.

"Pound it up your ass, Ironsides," Dean snapped.

Bobby shook his head, a hint of amusement on his face. "One little grave."

Birdie chuckled, relieved the subject of Felicity had been averted for now.

"Then you do it."

"Fine. I'll hop right in," Bobby sarcastically replied.

"Well, least your legs are numb."

"Shut up and dig, Grandma."

Dean went back to digging, but stopped just two more digs in. "Oh! Now it's my damn back!" he groaned, placing a hand on his lower back. Birdie raised a brow, tilting her head. Dying before old age was beginning to sound like not such a bad idea.

"Can you straighten up?" Bobby asked.

Dean slightly nodded, giving Bobby a glare. "Yeah, but a little sympathy wouldn't hurt."

"Butt cheek tingling?" Bobby asked.

Birdie scrunched up her nose in disgust. "Ew, do you really wanna know the answer?"

"Well, that's kind of personal."

"So yeah?" Dean looked up, glancing between Bobby and Birdie. They took Dean's silence as a confirmation that his ass was in fact tingling. "It's sciatica," Bobby explained. "You'll live. Keep digging."

"You know, Bobby. . .killing you is officially on my bucket list."

Bobby shook his head and rolled his eyes. "With all your bitchin', I'm surprised you haven't told the young one to do it yet."

Birdie's eyes slightly widened and she sharply turned towards Bobby. "Hey, hush. He's just about there, Bobby!"

Dean stopped, abruptly turning towards them again. "Wha⎯⎯⎯son of a bitch, you've been letting an old man dig while you just stood there, what, lookin' pretty?"

Birdie innocently grinned. "Aw, you think I'm pretty?"

"Shut the hell up and get in this damn hole. It's time I get to sit back and watch someone else do the work for once."

Birdie rolled her eyes but bent down and picked up the other shovel. Then she dropped down into the hole. "Watching you was getting boring anyway," she said. "I felt like I was watching that one scene in Holes with the younger version of Sigourney Weaver's character and her grandpa on repeat."

Dean raised a brow. "Aren't you a little too old to be watching that movie?"

"Aren't you a little too old to be alive⎯⎯⎯"

"Oh, for the love of god⎯⎯⎯"

"Don't even, Bobby," Birdie said, sticking the shovel in the dirt. "You know you enjoy our bickering."

"When have I ever given you that impression?" he asked.

Birdie huffed, narrowing her eyes. "You're lucky you're old and paralyzed, otherwise I'd kick your ass."

Bobby laughed. "No you wouldn't."

"No, I wouldn't," Birdie grumbled. "But I'd think about it."

Dean chuckled and moved to the side, trying to crawl out of the hole. He grunted, struggling to pull himself up. Birdie paused, turning around to see what Dean was doing. "Can you just chill for a second? I'll give you a boost outta here once we get this damn jawbone."

"I can do it myself," Dean said.

"Fine, then," Birdie shrugged. She went back to digging, hearing Dean grunt and grumble as he tried to get out of the hole. Bobby sighed, brows raised as he watched Dean struggle. He looked back at Birdie to see she had made more progress in five minutes than Dean had in fifteen. Birdie dug and dug, all while Dean still failed to pull himself up out of the grave.

Birdie pushed the shovel into the ground, a thud capturing their attention. Dean was still in the grave so he helped Birdie pry the casket open. He retrieved the jawbone of the murderer and handed it up to Bobby. Birdie then climbed out and held her hand out to Dean who reluctantly accepted the help.

☽ ༓ ☾

Birdie fiddled with her fingers as she anxiously waited at the back of the bar with Dean. Bobby was still in the van with a small bowl that was pre-filled with some of the items they'd collected for Lia's spell. Sam was supposed to ask for a break during the game after he got the DNA, but it was taking longer than Birdie had expected. It felt like days had passed since she last saw Sam, her worries only increasing with each minute that passed by without seeing Sam. She had no idea how the poker game was going down in the basement, whether or not Sam was losing or winning; hopefully the latter.

"Relax, Bird," Dean said, having noticed the worry lines that were prominent on Birdie's face, "I'm sure he'll show up in just a couple of minutes."

Birdie heavily sighed, twisting her lips before she turned her head towards Dean. "I don't like this."

"None of us do. But he's the only one who can pull it off now."

Birdie slowly nodded, fully facing Dean. "After this case is done, can you guys teach me how to play poker?"

Dean leaned his head back slightly, taken aback by the question. "You wanna learn how to play poker?" he asked.

Birdie nonchalantly shrugged. "Yeah, I do. Who knows how many other witches are doing some shit like this. I wanna be prepared," she said. "Plus, it's another way I can get money outta people without having to try to steal it."

Dean chuckled, smiling at Birdie. "You got it, Bird."

Birdie smiled back and took a few steps to the side. A loud banging was heard, startling her and Dean. Sam bursted out of the doors, heavily breathing as he walked towards them. They quickly approached him, dozens of questions popping into their heads.

"How's it going in there?" Dean asked first.

Sam scoffed. "How do you think it's going?" he retorted. Birdie frowned. "What about you guys? You have everything you need?"

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

Sam held out a toothpick for both of them to see. "He was chewing it." Dean quickly took it. "Hurry up. Please."

"All right. Just keep him busy. And, Sammy. . .don't lose."

Sam went to walk away but Birdie suddenly touched his arm, making him stop. "Wait," she said. Hesitation appeared on her face like she didn't want to say whatever was on her mind now, making Sam frown. He went to ask her what was wrong, but he was surprised when she quickly leaned in and kissed him on the cheek.

Birdie slightly smiled, taking a few steps back. "For good luck. Now get back in there and kick some ass. You and Dean are gonna teach me how to play once this is all over."

Sam smiled, nodding his head. "You got it, Bird."

Birdie watched Sam walk back into the building, her smile crumbling once he was out of her sight. She sighed and turned on her heel, jogging over to the van. Now that they had all of the ingredients for Lia's spell, it was time to put it to the test.

Bobby already had the rest of the ingredients together and a small fire pit going in the back. The side door was open as he sat inside, Dean standing outside with the toothpick in hand.

"You kids ready?" Bobby asked.

"As ready as we can be," Dean answered. "This better work."

Bobby adjusted the paper with the spell written on it, making sure he could easily read it before he started reading it.

"Gairmidh mi air maponus, dia na time," Bobby read, glancing up at Dean. He leaned forward, dropping some ashes into the fire. It grew bigger, changing from the usual orange hue to a bright blue color. Birdie took a small step back, feeling the warmth on her face for a few moments. "Till an-dràsda obair uile gu bheilair a bhith Deanta. Mar sin bitheadh." Bobby looked up from the paper, nodding at Dean. "Drop it in."

Dean looked at the toothpick and then tossed it into the fire. Birdie anxiously bit the inside of her cheek⎯⎯⎯that was the last part of the spell. If the spell was legit, then⎯⎯⎯

"Well?" Dean asked, glancing between Birdie and Bobby with a hopeful grin on his wrinkly face. "How do I look?"

Bobby and Birdie shared a look as neither one of them replied. The truthful answer was 'eighty years old'.

Birdie heavily sighed, shaking her head. "Motherfucker," she huffed, stepping away from the van.

"Damn it," Dean said, looking down at his wrinkly hands. He looked up at Bobby. "Why the hell didn't it work?"

"We did everything it said. My guess is the bitch set us up."

Birdie narrowed her eyes, clenching her fists at her sides. An intense rush of anger filled her, hands balled into fists at her sides. Her nails dug into the palms of her hands, though the pain went unfelt. Her thoughts weren't even processing as she started to walk towards the double doors.

"Birdie?" Dean called out. "Birdie! Don't go in there!"

"Birdie, come back! Birdie! BIRDIE!"

Dean and Bobby's voice faded to nothingness as Birdie pushed through the double doors. She quickly jogged down the grimy stairs, hearing voices as she walked down a dimly lit hallway.

"⎯⎯⎯never passed my lips. Won't do a scrap of good." That was certainly Patrick's voice. Birdie stopped just outside the doorway, peeking into the room. Sam and Patrick were sat across from each other at a round table, a single light directly above them. Lia was behind Patrick, an uncertain look on her face. Birdie clenched her jaw and focused her attention on Patrick. He leaned back in his chair and threw a toothpick across the table at Sam. "I don't like cheating, Sam."

Patrick stretched out his hand and clenched it into a tight fist. Sam stiffened, gasping for breath while Lia watched from behind her boyfriend. Sam put a hand to his throat, eyes growing wide.

"SAM!"

Birdie hurried over to Sam, rage filled in her eyes as she looked at Patrick. He just narrowed his eyes at her and tightened his fist. Birdie looked at Sam, her heart racing as he struggled to breath. She looked at Patrick again, noticing there was some confusion mixing with anger in his eyes.

Birdie started to move around the table, but Lia rushed forward, grabbing Patrick's wrist. "Stop it! Patrick, let him go!"

"They tried to kill us!"

"I did it!" Lia confessed. "I gave them the spell!"

Patrick, shocked at Lia's words, released Sam and looked up at his girlfriend. Sam gasped in air, turning to Birdie as she crouched down in front of him and cupped his face. Her concern swirled inside her eyes, unable to hide it as Sam looked at her as his breathing started to return to normal. "Are you okay?" Birdie asked. "Are you hurt anywhere⎯⎯⎯"

"What're you doing here?" Sam asked. "You need to⎯⎯⎯"

"I was worried since the spell didn't work. I didn't want anything to happen to you," she quietly answered.

Sam managed a small smile and turned his head. Birdie lowered her hands and stood up, gaze landing on Patrick and Lia.

Patrick stood up from his spot at the table and gently touched Lia's face. "Why. . .why would you do that?" he asked.

"You know why." Lia touched her silver locket, glossy eyes locked on Patrick. "You know."

Patrick looked away for a moment, then sat back down with his attention back on Sam. "Keep. Playing." Lia looked away, glancing over at Sam and Birdie. His eyes shifted to Birdie, narrowing his eyes. "And you. . .I don't know how my spells aren't affecting you, but you're going to stay in here so I can keep my eye on you."

"Fine," Birdie shrugged, crossing her arms.

Sam gave her a look but she just shook her head. Dean and Bobby could figure something else without her.

More than a dozen chips were piled next to the eight of hearts, the queens of clubs and diamonds, and the two of diamonds. Patrick discarded a card and then dealt the ace of clubs. Sam had his hands folded against his mouth, anxiously watching. Birdie now stood off to the side of the table with Lia, quietly observing the game though she had no idea what any of the cards or phrases besides 'I fold' meant.

Sam stacked five chips next to another pile of five. That piqued Patrick's amusement.

"Well, look at you, the percentage player bettin' 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 picked up his face-down cards and discarded them on the table. "I fold. Set of ladies, I'm guessin'." Sam collected a couple dozen chips and turned over his cards: the three of clubs and five of diamonds, for one pair of queens. Sam stacked his chips, having won that round. "Nice bluff. If we had time, I could make a real player out of you."

"I got time," Sam said.

Patrick softly chuckled. "Maybe. But I can't say the same for Dean. Your brother's gonna be dead soon." Sam looked up and Birdie tensed. "And when I say 'soon'. . ." Patrick leaned forward, "I mean minutes."

Sam's expression changed and he glanced at Birdie. She had the same exact look on her face. Sam stood up just as Birdie tried to move, but Patrick held his hand out again, forcing Sam back into his seat.

"It seems you can't stop both of us," Birdie pointed out, stealing a look at the door. She didn't know how he wasn't able to get a grasp on her either, though that was a question for later.

"I can still kill your boyfriend before you can save him or his brother," Patrick replied. Birdie took a step forward and Patrick moved his hand. Birdie immediately stopped out of fear he really would hurt Sam. "The game's not over till I say it is," Patrick said, facing Sam again. "Blinds."

Patrick slapped down two chips and Sam put down one. Birdie pursed her lips together, her heart thundering in her chest as they continued the game. She glanced over at Lia, a glare on her face. "Your boyfriend's a dick," she murmured.

Lia didn't respond. She just turned her attention back at Sam and Patrick, anxiously waiting to see who would win in the end.

Patrick dealt two face-down cards apiece. Sam glanced at his and then added another chip to the pot. "So." Patrick slapped down three cards and spread them out: the ace of spades and fours of hearts and clubs. Sam eyed the cards, an uncertain look on his face. "When it's about your brother, you get so emotional, your brain just flies right out the window," Patrick said with a hand gesture. "Good to know."

"Go to hell." Sam shoved all his chips into the middle of the pot. "I'm all in."

Lia glanced at him, unable to hide her surprise. Patrick heavily sighed, checking his cards. "Don't do that, Sam," he said.

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

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

"Just play the hand."

Birdie took a step forward, eyes wide on Sam. "But Sam⎯⎯⎯"

Patrick added all his chips to the pot. "Fine." Birdie groaned, uneasiness bubbling in her stomach. Patrick discarded a card and dealt the seven of diamonds. Then Patrick dealt the nine of spades. Sam and Patrick stared each other down, each with a different set of emotions⎯⎯⎯Sam worried and Patrick smug.

Birdie glanced over at Lia, momentarily catching the woman's eye. She appeared to be just as nervous as Birdie.

Patrick turned over his face-down cards: aces of clubs and diamonds. "I'm sorry, kid," he said. "Aces full."

Birdie's entire face crumbled, looking at Sam. He faltered in his chair, sighing. He turned his head to the side, looking at Lia rather than Birdie. Birdie frowned, looking at the witch as well. "You're crying." Lia sniffled, looking away from Sam's stare. "For a witch, you're so nice, it's actually kind of creepy. It's okay." Sam then looked at Patrick again. Birdie slightly tilted her head, catching an unusual tone in Sam's voice. That wasn't how he would react if he'd just lost and his big brother was about to die. "It was a great hand."

Patrick moved to collect the chips as he appeared to have won; the only hands that could beat a full house with three aces are a four of a kind and a straight flush. The flop cards were three different suits, so he knew that Sam couldn't possibly have a straight flush, and he knew the odds are very slim that Sam had the remaining two fours.

"Just⎯⎯⎯" Patrick looked up, pausing when Sam spoke again, "⎯⎯⎯not as great as⎯⎯⎯" Sam turned 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 was with a straight flush, which he knew Patrick couldn't possibly have. "⎯⎯⎯as four fours."

Patrick glanced up at Sam, then down at the cards. Sam took a deep breath and let it out in relief. Birdie closed her eyes, letting out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. Patrick leaned back with a scoff. "Well played. You know, that whole. . .going-out-of-your-head bit⎯⎯⎯very method." Sam just smirked. "Well, there's more to you than meets the eye."

Patrick raised his glass and Sam faintly nodded.

"Cash these in for Dean, now."

Patrick nodded and set his glass down. "With pleasure."

Birdie walked over to Sam, giving him a small smile when he stood up from the table. "I'll be honest, I really thought you lost, but then you didn't exactly react the way I thought you would," she said.

Sam knitted his brows together. "What do you mean?"

"You were way too calm. And if it didn't stop Dean from dying?" Birdie raised her brows. "I'm saying this with love, but there's no way you would have just accepted it."

Sam softly chuckled, slightly nodding in agreement. "Guess I'm better than you guys thought I was," he said.

Birdie quietly laughed. "Don't let that go to your head." She faced Patrick and Lia, aware of the tension that was going on between them. Birdie narrowed her eyes, pointing a finger at Patrick. "If Dean isn't back⎯⎯⎯"

"I've already given him his years back," Patrick said, dismissively waving his hand. "He should be as good as new."

"He better be," Sam said. "C'mon, Bird."

He started to lead the way out of the room, but Birdie paused. She turned around, curious. "Patrick, that "gift" you tried to give me, what was it?" she asked.

Patrick scoffed, putting his hands in his pocket. "You did try to steal from me, so I thought it was only fitting that I gave you sticky fingers⎯⎯⎯quite literally. It seems it didn't take."

Birdie blinked a few times, stealing a quick look at Sam. She looked at Patrick again, furrowing her eyebrows together. "And you don't know why it didn't work?" she asked.

Patrick shook his head, raising his brows. "No. Don't you know how you did it?"

"I⎯⎯⎯"

"Birdie," Sam softly said. He nudged his head and Birdie immediately understood.

Dean.

After a rather eventful night, Birdie was more than ready to go to bed even if it meant she might've had to face some familiar nightmares. They'd gotten a call from Bobby just a couple of minutes after they left Patrick, instructing them to meet him and Dean at the motel; that was a good thing as it meant Patrick had in fact cashed Sam's winnings in for Dean to get his years back. And, when they got to the motel, Dean made sure to show them that he in fact could properly move his limbs without it aching or making any creaking sounds. A few details of the game were shared by Sam though it was already pretty late and everyone was ready to sleep. So, they decided to head to bed and would talk more in the morning.

Birdie stepped out of the bathroom after changing into a sweater and jeans, setting her bag on one of the beds. Sam and Bobby were standing by the table, talking back and forth. Dean wasn't anywhere to be seen, but the door was open so Birdie assumed he was loading up the Impala before they all headed out.

"No tricks⎯⎯⎯you actually beat the guy?" Bobby asked. Sam shrugged, holding his arms out. "How the hell?"

Sam smirked, stealing a quick look in Birdie's direction. "Just lucky." He walked past Bobby, starting to pass by Dean who was on the way in with a burger. Of course he would go and get the greasiest thing he could eat now that he wasn't an old man anymore. Sam shook his head at his older brother and grabbed his jacket off the table. "Hey. I'll see y'all guys later."

"Where you going?" Dean and Birdie asked simultaneously.

"Uh. . .mm, nowhere."

Bobby, Dean, and Birdie all silently looked at him.

"A booster shot," Sam huffed out. He pointed at Dean, already seeing an amused grin forming. "Don't say it."

Birdie chuckled under her breath, watching Sam leave the room. Dean took another bite of his burger, pausing when he saw Birdie raise her brows at him. "What?" he asked with a mouthful.

"Did you get anyone else anything?" Birdie wondered.

Dean scoffed. "No. You're young, you can get somethin' yourself."

Birdie playfully rolled her eyes. She put her phone on top of her bag, gaze falling on Bobby. She pursed her lips and looked at Dean. "Hey, Dean, can you give us a minute?" she asked.

Dean seemed to be confused at the request, however he did as asked. He stood up, curiously looking between Birdie and Bobby as he walked towards the door. "Don't take too long," Dean said, grabbing the door handle with his free hand.

Birdie just gave him a smile as he left. Once the door shut, she sat down on the edge of the bed, looking at Bobby. "Bobby, I'm sorry," she said after a few moments.

"For what?" Bobby asked.

"For lying to you, for being distant, for. . .for everything," she frowned. She fiddled with her fingers in her lap, glancing down when Bobby wheeled himself closer. "There's no excuse for what I did. . .but I. . .I didn't wanna break my promise to Dean, or lose Sam."

"Birdie⎯⎯⎯"

"No, please, I need to say this," she said. "I just wanted to protect Sam, to make sure that he. . .he wasn't alone. He's my best friend and I would do anything for him, and in doing that, I made some mistakes⎯⎯⎯mistakes that I won't ever be able to forgive myself for. Letting Felicity in, trusting Ruby. . .all for it to lead to freeing Lucifer just like Lilith planned. . ."

"You didn't know," Bobby said. Birdie looked up, her frown still on her lips. "And neither did Sam. No one would've thought killin' that bitch was a bad thing."

"I should've known better than to trust a demon. And Sam with the blood. . ." Birdie heavily sighed, closing her eyes. Bobby frowned. The pain and guilt Birdie felt radiated off of her, physically and mentally weighing her down, and in the same way it was affecting Sam. "I know I can't change any of it or make myself more present, but Bobby...I'm sorry."

Bobby sadly smiled and grabbed one of Birdie's hands. "Everybody makes mistakes, kid. Hell, I can't even tell you how many times I've made 'em. That's what makes us human," he said. Birdie faintly smiled, squeezing Bobby's hand. "You shouldn't be so hard on yourself. You're a bright girl. We can get through this. The world needs us hunters."

"You know, I think you should apply that to yourself."

A confused expression appeared on Bobby's face. "That I'm a bright girl?"

Birdie chuckled, shaking her head. "Oh, ha ha. You know what I mean⎯⎯⎯that everybody makes mistakes, but that we can get through this, that the world needs us hunters."

"I didn't mean m⎯⎯⎯"

"No, you said it yourself, Bobby," Birdie interrupted. "The world does need us, all of us."

"When you say all of us, do you mean. . ."

"I do," Birdie said, nodding her head. "If we're gonna take on the devil, we're gonna need all the help we can get."

☽ ༓ ☾

a/n: i haven't posted a chapter since november?!?!

y'all, im sorry. i know i have said this for so many chapters now, but i truly do mean it. i did not think i would struggle with this book since the first 30 chapters came so easily, but i think just with other things going on i haven't had much motivation and i'm sorry. i have been writing a little more, however i can't promise chapters will be posted regularly. but, i am going to try to post at least once a month since yall have given this book lots of love and support <3

and i know some parts were probably confusing in this (such as birdie not being affected by the witches) but all will be explained soon!!!! 😌

as always, please don't forget to leave your feedback in the comments and i hope y'all enjoyed!