o1. a lucky girl..

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Nothing bad ever happened to Rita.

Round face, plum cheeks, clean hair and the shortness of someone that hasn't been drinking her milk as a child, the whole town knew she was a lucky girl. Not just because of how oddly quiet her life was, but also due to how often, fearlessly, she jumped onto easily frightening adventures.

If she took a risk of drinking too much, alone, or she programmed her strolls and walks in the dead of night, Rita was simply always pushing her luck with a blind certainty that she was going safe. That gut feeling was something she couldn't explain.

Dean has always had bad things happened to him though.

From losing his parents, to having to be trapped in stopping the damned Apocalypse, the Biblical one, he could even be considered a magnet for the bad luck. No one in his life, not even himself, had high life expectations, they all somehow died at some point, and if they were blessed with some wretched luck, they'd be back to die some more.

It was not something he could explain though. That was just his life and even if he dreamt of peace, he accepted his reality: him, his car, Sam, a few guns and the endless line of monsters to kill.

"I don't understand," Sam frowned by Dean's side. The roar of the engine kept them both alert, if the music wasn't always as loud as it should be, praising the songs as one would worship gods.

"That's a bad sign," Dean cast a proud grin. However satisfied with his joke he was though, as soon as Sam audibly frowned, he had to explain it, which overall, ruined his personal satisfaction. "Because you always know... Nevermind, what doesn't make sense?"

"This town as three different patterns, all in the span of two days, with no past unnatural activity of any kind, ever."

"You mean, like the town version of a saint?" Dean glanced at his brother, who answered with a strong nod.

"We have an animal attack in the forest next to the town. Heart missing. Ghost activity in the other side of the town and I am pretty sure there's also some demon omens around," Sam sighed, lifting his eyes from his laptop, closing it and all the open articles. "It's as if... someone made a spell of some sort?"

"Sounds like a pretty powerful spell to make," Dean gave a dry, cynical response to Sam's worried guess.

"We could be dealing with a coven," the reply came with a sigh. "Which means that whatever they are doing, such a powerful summoning must certainly lead to a bigger plan."

"One case at a time, Sammy," Dean reminded him. Our life is shitty enough as it is, please don't bring up two problems at once, he innerly continued his thought. There was only so much his shoulders could carry while he bravely kept unshattered a strong, big brother facade.

They have been doing this for long enough to build a small routine: they get to the troublesome town, find a motel; if it's night, they wait for the sunrise, if it's day, then they jump into those fancy suits of theirs. This time, parking in the yard of the motel happened in the dead of night.

With a bit of fortune in how fast Sam got them that room, Dean hoped to get at least one hour of sleep before having to freshen up for the case. Leaning against the hood of his car, hands in the pockets of his jacket, he found himself looking around.

It was such an awfully normal town. Crickets sang in the bushes and the darkness didn't seem as frightening anymore, not even to Dean, someone so aware of the dangers that could be found lingering in the dark.

The air was fresh and cold, the lights in the parking lot created a very quiet world. Yet he couldn't help but wonder: what's so special about this town? Do those supposed witches just wish to ruin the beauty of peace? Is it truly nothing that can remain safe in this world?

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