Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or any characters from or associated with Supernatural.

I was playing with word limits for my own amusement and the result is a story exactly 3,000 words long, divided into 6 chapters at 500 words each.

This story is loosely based on a drabble by 27jaredjensen, who was kind enough to lend me her plot bunnies.

"Dean, can't we leave yet?" Sam was whining again. He had been whining for the past hour, and for the last hour Dean had been steadily ignoring him.

Dean was on a roll; nine games in a row, and somehow none of the local talent had cottoned on yet. This place was almost too good to be true. Good thing Sam had needed a restroom, or he wouldn't have stopped until they hit Colorado.

"No, Sammy, not yet; now shush! Daddy's working." The next shot all but threw itself into the far left pocket. Dean laughed and pumped his arm into the air. Rick and Sean paid up grudgingly.

Sam sighed. "Dean, I'm serious. See that girl over by the bar?"

Dean glanced in the direction Sam's eyes flickered. "Yeah, she's smokin' hot. So?"

"So, she's been looking at me funny since we walked in."

Rick missed his shot. Dean was impressed with his use of adjectives mixed with the familiar cusswords, but not with his pool skills. He turned back to Sam. "Well, then why don't you go over there and say hi, Sam? It wouldn't hurt you to get a little action now and then. I'll just finish up here and head back to the motel." Dean grinned slyly. "I won't wait up."

"You aren't listening to me." Sam let out one of those little huffs that meant he was getting annoyed. This was usually about where he got impatient and bitchy. "I don't mean your kind of funny, Dean. I mean our kind of funny." Sam lifted one eyebrow suggestively.

Dean frowned. "Wait, you mean you think that girl – that girl, over there – is a- a what, exactly?"

Sam shrugged. His gaze swept over the room, watching for, but not lingering on, the girl. "I don't know; I'm just getting this really weird vibe off of her. I think we should leave, Dean."

"Sam." Dean turned to face his brother fully; he set his pool stick down. "Sam. I am raking in the money here; they're practically throwing it at me. We haven't had a case, paying in any way or otherwise, in weeks. We can't afford to pass this up because you think her aura is funky."

"I didn't say 'aura,' Dean." Sam growled. Dean was already turning back to the pool table. Sam grabbed his arm. "Dean, I really, really think we should leave."

Dean shook Sam off. "And I really, really think you should leave me the hell alone! Just for an hour, Sam; can you give me an hour? Is that too much to ask?"

Sam was stunned. He nodded and walked back over to the table he had been occupying previously. He couldn't figure out where the anger had come from. Sure he was being persistent, but Dean didn't usually have a problem with Sam voicing his concerns.

The girl was still watching him. Her eyes gave Sam goose bumps, and not in a good way. Sam looked away. Hurry up, Dean.