Disclaimer: It owns me.

A/N: Whilst this will make more sense if you've seen 'The Usual Suspects,' it doesn't contain any actual spoilers for Season 2. Enjoy!

Summary: Sam, Dean, and one really big ball of twine.


Biggest in the Country

Darwin, Minnesota

"Dude. That is one big-ass ball of twine."

"Whatever. Can we go yet?"

Leaning back against the bonnet of the Impala, Dean twisted round to look at his brother, who had yet to shift from where he sat shotgun, legs stretched out the side of the car as he fiddled around on his cell phone.

"Come on, man, show a bit of respect. You're looking at the eighth wonder of the world here."

"It's twine, Dean."

"A lot of twine," the older hunter corrected, gazing at the twelve-foot wide sphere of thread which stood before them, carefully sheltered under a sturdy wooden gazebo, and surrounded by Plexiglass walls. Levering himself off the even black surface of the car, Dean moved forward until he stood adjacent to the nearest of the clear barriers which surrounded the massive ball. Turning round, he grinned at Sam, who was still focused on his cell.

"Look at it, Sammy, it's taller than I am."

"That's not hard, Dean."

Dean ignored him. "How 'bout you take a picture or something?"

"Of you and the twine?"


"Not gonna happen."

"Why not?"

"Like I said, Dean, it's twine."

Dean bent down to examine the ball more closely. "It's awesome, that's what it is."

Sam glanced up briefly, but almost immediately returned his gaze to his cell phone. "Well, yeah, it's big, but-"

"But what?" Dean demanded, straightening.

Sam shrugged. "I gotta say, man, I expected bigger."

"Dude. It's huge."

When Sam shrugged for a second time, Dean gave the gazebo which housed the ball a farewell pat and strode back to the Impala, not stopping until he stood directly before his annoyingly cynical brother.

"A hundred bucks says it's the biggest in the country."

Sam's eyes met his. "You're on."


Tapping his fingers on the steering wheel as the Impala purred over the many miles to North Dakota, Dean shot a swift look at Sam, who had the laptop open, balanced precariously on his knees, and was surfing through the disturbingly large number of websites dedicated to really big balls of twine.

"Have you proved I'm right yet?"

"For the last damn time, Dean, no."

Several minutes passed in relative silence, during which the only sound was that of the Impala's tyres swallowing up the endless road beneath her.

Dean opened his mouth. "Have-"


After another couple of minutes, Dean reached forward and turned the radio on.

Sam reached forward and turned it off.

"Dude," Dean said reproachfully.

Sam ignored him.

Taking one hand off the wheel, Dean scratched at the stubble on his chin with the side of his thumb. "What sort of computer nerd are you if it takes you this long to look up massive balls of twine?"

Sam glanced at him. "You wanna do it?"


"Then quit bugging me."

Dean paused, thinking. His fingers resumed their tapping against the wheel.

"Hey, Sammy?" he said, finally.



Sam ground his teeth.

Dean grinned. "Have you-"

"Got it," Sam interrupted victoriously, with one last click.

"And Geek Boy strikes again," Dean commented, glancing over at Sam, who merely cast him a quick smile before starting to read from the screen before him.

"Darwin, Minnesota is home to the largest ball of twine in the United States," he started.

Dean smirked gleefully and banged his hand on the wheel. "Pay up, Sammy boy," he crowed.

Yet Sam was shaking his head, a grin on his face. "You didn't let me finish, Dean."

The older hunter stilled. "What do you mean 'finish?'"

"Darwin, Minnesota is home to the largest ball of twine in the United States that has been made by one man," Sam stated, emphasising the last few words. His smile broadened. "However, Cawker City, Kansas, is home to the largest ball of twine, period."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"The guy who made the ball of twine which resides in Cawker City, one Frank Stoeber, died in 1974, when his ball was only eleven feet in diameter, one foot short of the ball in Minnesota. But the residents of the town decided to keep adding to it." Scrolling down the screen a little way, Sam raised his eyebrows. "Huh. Says here they even have an annual twine-a-thon every August. As a result, Stoeber's ball beat the one in Minnesota in 2003, and as such the town is now home to the largest ball of twine in the continental U.S." Sam closed the laptop with a snap, and looked at Dean in triumph. "Pay up."

Dean drummed his hands on the wheel, frowning. He wasn't meant to lose. "That's cheating," he complained.

"What's cheating?"

"All those people working on it. S'not fair."

"At no point did you specify how many people could or could not attribute to the size of said balls of twine under investigation," Sam asserted authoritatively. "Hence, I win. Now pay up, man."

Dean shook his head. "No way."

"Just admit it, Dean, you lost."

"I didn't lose."

"Well, you sure as hell didn't win. Now gimme my money."

"Can't just now, driving," Dean stated, feeling childishly pleased that he wouldn't have to give up his hard-earned cash for a few more miles, at least. Seconds later however, any sense of satisfaction faded as Sam stretched out a long arm towards the back of the car, grabbing at the worn leather jacket which lay slung over the bench seat.

"Dude, what are you doing?" Dean protested, as Sam pulled his favourite jacket forward and delved into the pockets.

"Getting my money."


Yet Sam had already drawn out the cash Dean had won only two days ago in a poker game at a roadside bar which had housed surprisingly gullible patrons. Selecting two twenties, a fifty and a ten, with more glee than was probably necessary, the younger hunter chucked the coat behind him, where it landed with a soft thump on the back seat.

"Dude, careful with the jacket," Dean groused. When Sam just waved the money at him, grinning, he glared and focused his full attention on the road, pointedly ignoring his kid brother. Seconds later, he reached forward and pushed a tape into the deck, cranking it up to the loudest volume he could stand.

On the other side of the car, Sam rifled through the paper bills he held, before shoving them into his own back pocket. "Awesome," he murmured contentedly, and settled back into his seat for the long drive ahead.



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