NO TIME TO DIE ◦ 𝒔𝒂𝒎 𝒘𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓

chapter thirty.

CHAPTER THIRTY:
AS IT WAS.

⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅

IT WASN'T JUST Birdie who appeared to be having trouble sleeping lately. Dean would toss and turn during the late hours, muttering to himself with pained expressions on his features; those were only on the nights he actually did get some sleep, though. She didn't see or hear it every night, her own, frightening nightmares keeping her under in order to taunt her more and more like she wasn't already haunted enough when she was awake. Birdie didn't mention to Dean about his sleepless nights, figuring they were most likely about his nights in Hell——which he'd made quite clear he didn't want to talk about to Sam or Birdie.

Sam had tried a few more times, but to no avail.

Dean wasn't going to talk about Hell and there was no making him do it, either.

Much like Birdie, he was going to hold onto his secrets for as long as he could.

"Brian, come on, man, just one more," Sam said, his words slightly slurred. "Just-just give me a chance to win it back."

"It's your cash," Brian, a tall, bald man dressed in a leather vest and dark jeans, replied.

Dean came over, looking between Brian and Sam with a concerned expression. "Excuse me," he interrupted, "My brother's a little sauced to be makin' bets."

"Hey, he insisted."

Sam rolled his eyes in annoyance, readjusting his stance as he tightly gripped the pool cue in his hand. "Yeah, but you've already taken, what, two bills off him?" Dean said, tilting his head slightly as he spoke. "I'm just sayin'."

"Hey, shut up, Dean," Sam sharply said, his eyes a little droopy as he falsely smiled across the table at Dean. "I'm fine."

"No, you're not fine," Dean snapped. "You're fuckin' drunk!"

Sam pursed his lips together, reaching into his back pocket as he looked toward Brian. "Let's make it five hundred."

Dean raised his brows in disbelief, scoffing under his breath. "Five hundred?"

Brian glanced from Dean and over to Sam, a smirk appearing on his lips; this was going to be one of his easiest wins yet, or so he thought. "Sure."

Sam smacked the money down on the pool table beside a half-empty beer, raising his brows as he shot Dean a cocky smirk.

Brian finished setting up the balls and removed the rack, placing it on a hook on the side of the table. "Five hundred," he said, looking towards Sam. "Your break."

While Brian looked down, Sam subtly raised his eyebrows at Dean, a small smirk spreading across his lips. For a second, there was no trace of drunkenness in him. Dean raised his eyebrows at Sam in return, smirking as well. Sam then broke, sinking several balls into the pockets as he did.