Rivers Deep | Sam Winchester

4. Rules To Luck

"There are rules to luck, not everything is chance. To the wise, luck can be helped by skill." - Balthasan Gracian

• • •

Pulling slowly to a stop, the shade cascaded by the brick building next to them across his face contrasting with the afternnon sunshine hitting the other side made Noah squint his eyes. Seated in the back of the Impala, Delta laid out across his lap, he leaned back to escape the harsh sunlight.

Dean leaned through the window slightly to look at the car parked next to them. He leaned back, turning to his brother and Noah, "Connecticut, last digits are 8-8-0."

Sam nodded, "Yep, that's it."

Dean tsked, "Should've blacked out their plates before they parked in front of a security camera."

• • •

Noah turned the knob as quietly as possible, slowly inching the apartment door open. He shared a look with the boys as he pulled his own pistol out, the Winchesters already brandishing their own.

Dean stepped in first, with Noah and Sam side-by-side, right behind him. Delta followed shortly after her owner. Halfway down the entry hallway, quiet voices made their way to their ears. one sounded like he was bragging about how many times he'd won against the other in poker that day, in a row.

Dean pressed his back against the wall right before the hallway turned into the full apartment. Sam pressed against the one opposite him as Noah stood slightly furhter back than either of them, in the middle of the hallway. Delta's ears perked as she focused on the sound of the men talking.

"Lets go, huh?" One suggested, "Let's get out of here, go have some fun, yeah?"

That's when Dean pounced. Jumping out of his hiding spot, he came clearly into the kitchen, barking out, "Freeze!" As he trained his gun on one of the men.

Sam jumped right behind him, and they both shouted, "Don't move! Nobody move!"

Noah decided to stay in the hallway, keeping the surprise element in case they needed it. He pressed his back where Dean had previously, keeping a close eye out.

The two Winchesters rushed in as the other men raised their hands in the air. Sam kept his gun trained on the one in flannel, Dean kept his own on the man in a vest.

"Alright, give us the box," Dean demanded, "Please tell me that you didn't-"

Sam cut him off, eyes trained on the coffee table, "Oh they did."

Dean turned his head, seeing the black box open, the binding magic on the front of it now halved from the lid being open. "You opened it?!" Dean rushed the man in the vest, grabbing his collar, and pressing him to the wall behind him.

"Are you guys cops?" The man in the vest questioned, "Are you guys cops?!"

"What was in the box?" Dean yelled, his pistol placed point-blank on the man's clavicle, his other forearm keeping the man pinned to the wall. The man motioned with his eyes, making Dean turn hishead to see a lucky rabbits food on a key chain sat next to a glass of whiskey on the coffee table.

"Oh, was that it?" Dean asked, he got into the other mans face, "It was, wasn't it?"

When he turned back to look at it again, he furowed his eyebrows, "What is that thing?"

That gave the man in the vest the opportunity to throw his hand up into Dean's forearm, unpinning himself. Dean's gun was knocked out of his hand and when it hit the ground, it fired. The bullet was sent ricocheting around the room, hitting the radiator, the floor, bouncing off of Sam's pistol, which he dropped, sent back to the mantle and bouncing off of the metal brackets, and back into a lamp, which crashed to the floor with a few sparks.