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Yes, it's Bad Day At Black Rock!

Chapter name borrowed from Lynyrd Skynyrd.

CHAPTER FIVE-GOOD LUCK, BAD LUCK

I entered John's storage container cautiously.

The phone call hadn't told us much.

Castiel stared at the red symbol around the bloody footprints calculatingly.

"No demons allowed," Sam shone his flashlight around the room.

"Blood," Dean stated. "Check this out."

Dean held up a tripwire attached to a shotgun hidden in a large animal skull.

"Whoever broke in here got tagged," Sam surveyed the room warily.

"Dear old Dad," Dean snarked.

"I got two sets of boot treads here, looks like it was a two-man job."

"And our friend with the buckshot in him looks like he kept walking," Dean added.

We ventured further inside.

Dean aimed his flashlight on the skull, shaking his head.

He picked up a trophy from the shelf, scraping off the dust.

"1995."

"No way!" Sam said in disbelief.

"That's my division championship soccer trophy! I can't believe he kept this."

"Yeah," Dean nodded. "About the closest you ever came to being a boy."

He turned around to look at something else.

"Oh, wow! It's my first sawed-off. I made it myself. Sixth grade."

Dean laughed, pumping the shotgun.

Cas, evidently tired of their loitering, moved into a back room.

"Look."

We glanced at the inscribed boxes lining the wooden shelves.

"These are curse boxes," Cas bent down to look at one.

"Curse boxes?" I echoed.

"They're built to contain evil magic."

Cas' eyes tightened.

"One is missing."

~Supernatural~

We snuck inside the apartment, peeking around the door.

The two men were playing poker.

"FREEZE!" Dean yelled, bursting in with the gun in his hand.

"Don't move!" Sam followed him in.

The first one blinked stupidly.

"What is this?"

"STOP!" Sam shouted.

"All right," Dean breathed out heavily.

"Give us the box. And please tell me that you didn't-"

I looked back at the ornate lid.

It wasn't shut.

"Oh, they did," I said grimly.

"You opened it?" Dean exclaimed.

Dean shoved the first guy against the wall.

"What was in the box?'

He glanced over at the coffee table.

It looked like a rabbit's foot.

The man ripped himself away from Dean, making a frantic grab for the foot.

It flew into the air, landing on Sam's hand.

…

Dean walked back to the Impala, tossing me a paper bag.

He got in, flipping out several scratch cards towards Sam.

He huffed.

"Come on, Dean, it probably doesn't even work."

Dean ignored him, throwing Sam a card and a coin.

Sam scratched it.

"Dean, it's gotta be cursed somehow," Sam said as he handed it back.

"Otherwise Dad wouldn't have locked it up."

Dean gaped at the card.

"1200….. You just won $1200."

He laughed.

"I don't know, man, doesn't seem that cursed to me!"

"That's where you're wrong," Cas appeared in the deserted parking lot.

"Tell me you didn't touch it."

Sam shifted uneasily.

If Cas could've sighed, I was sure he would've done so then.

"You have a serious problem."

Sam noticed something glinting under a newspaper on the ground.

It was a gold watch.

Before Sam did anything more than admire it, Cas threw it away.

"Hey!" Sam protested indignantly.

He narrowed his eyes at Sam.

"That rabbit's foot isn't a blessing, it's a curse."

"It's hoodoo," Cas persisted.

"Made by a conjuror woman about a century ago."

Sam frowned.

"It's a hell of a luck charm."

Cas looked almost annoyed.

"It's not a luck charm, Samuel. She made it to kill people."

"Once you touch it, you own it. You'll get unbelievably lucky, but once you lose it, that luck turns. You'll be dead in a week."

Sam shrugged.

"So I won't lose it, Cas, jeez!"

Castiel was so close to exasperation; he actually forgot to call him Samuel.

"Everyone loses it, Sam."

~Supernatural~

Sam was on his laptop, eyeing Dean with ill-concealed disgust as he scarfed down his bowl of ice cream.

"Cas was right," Sam's fingers flew across the keyboard.

"It's lore goes way back. Pure hoodoo. You can't just cut one off any rabbit. Has to be in a cemetery, under a full moon, on a Friday the thirteenth."

Dean nodded, gulping his ice cream down.

He promptly got struck with brain freeze, and I laughed at him as a pretty waitress with short black hair approached.

She only addressed Sam.

"Can I freshen you up?"

"Yeah, yeah, sure," Sam smiled. "Thanks."

She poured more coffee, but spilled some, and apologized profusely.

The waitress appeared to be flirting with Sam as she mopped it up, and Dean and I snickered together, ignoring Sam's dirty look.

She finished quickly, and they leaned back to look at her as she walked away.

"Dude." Dean grinned. "If you were ever gonna get lucky….."

"Shut up," Sam smirked.

Sam reached for his cup, and promptly knocked it over, spilling it all over the table,

"Oh!"

Sam turned, and a waiter with a full tray crashed into him.

"Sorry!" Sam said, flustered,

Dean raised an eyebrow.

"How was that good?"

I had a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach as Sam searched jacket.

I knew before he said it.

The rabbit's foot was gone.