The Rabbits Foot Didn't Help the Rabbit
Title: The Rabbits Foot Didn't Help the Rabbit
Characters/Pairings: Sam and Dean
Rating: PG
Word Count: 464
Disclaimer: Someday I think I might write something other than SPN fanfic but in the meantime the CW and Co. are kind enough to let us borrow.
Summary: I gotta say tigriswolf has the bestest prompts: "Supernatural, Winchesters, know when to fold 'em"
A/N: This is an OPV on the Winchesters.
"Depend on the rabbit's foot if you will,
but remember it didn't work for the rabbit." ~R.E. Shay
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Most hunters take to gambling as if they were born to it. ‘Course there are some hunters, like the Winchesters, that were actually born to it. Raised and weaned on seedy bars and smoky pool halls. Kinda goes hand-in-hand really. Living as a hunter is a gamble no matter how ya look at it, so makes sense they make good gamblers.
Now, any good card player or pool hustler will tell ya, never go in without a plan and always keep an eye on your query. Ya gotta develop a sixth sense on it. Good ol’ Kenny said it best - “know when to hold ‘em, know when to fold ‘em, know when to walk away, know when to run.” It’s the knowin’ part that sets ya apart from being alive or dead as a hunter.
But those Winchesters, they seemed to perfect the idea. Time and again, they walked away from situations that the best of hunters would of gone and met their maker. Sure there were the rumors that they had died. But like a bad penny, they always turned back up.
It was almost as if Lady Luck smiled on ‘em. Unless, that is, you took credence to the other rumors. The ones where the name Winchester seemed to be synonymous with cursed. That even breathin’ the same air as them could mean the death of ya. But I guess it could be both. Kinda like yin and yang. It’s how life is, can’t have one without the other.
But ya know what I think? I think they knew the real truth that all good gamblers know: Luck isn’t given, it’s made. I mean if ya look at all those stories, its as plain as the nose on your face. They were scary smart, the both of ‘em, and their daddy taught ‘em every trick he knew. Course they took that and sure as anything made their own tricks, being the wily guys that they were.
The only time they ever seemed to ignore the gambler’s creed was when it came to each other. If one or the other was in some kinda trouble, there was no foldin’ or walkin’ and no way was either of ‘em runnin’. No, they held on tighter than tight. Logic and thinkin’ were thrown right out the window. They would dig in their heals - heaven and hell be damned. Literally, if ya think them stories are true.
It’s like all those myths that ya find in the books, where the hero has that one weakness, like Achilles and his heel or Samson and his hair. Them Winchesters, their only weakness was each other. Kinda sad really, seein’ that lovin’ someone too much could hurt ya. But that there is a story for another day.
Characters/Pairings: Sam and Dean
Rating: PG
Word Count: 464
Disclaimer: Someday I think I might write something other than SPN fanfic but in the meantime the CW and Co. are kind enough to let us borrow.
Summary: I gotta say tigriswolf has the bestest prompts: "Supernatural, Winchesters, know when to fold 'em"
A/N: This is an OPV on the Winchesters.
"Depend on the rabbit's foot if you will,
but remember it didn't work for the rabbit." ~R.E. Shay
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Most hunters take to gambling as if they were born to it. ‘Course there are some hunters, like the Winchesters, that were actually born to it. Raised and weaned on seedy bars and smoky pool halls. Kinda goes hand-in-hand really. Living as a hunter is a gamble no matter how ya look at it, so makes sense they make good gamblers.
Now, any good card player or pool hustler will tell ya, never go in without a plan and always keep an eye on your query. Ya gotta develop a sixth sense on it. Good ol’ Kenny said it best - “know when to hold ‘em, know when to fold ‘em, know when to walk away, know when to run.” It’s the knowin’ part that sets ya apart from being alive or dead as a hunter.
But those Winchesters, they seemed to perfect the idea. Time and again, they walked away from situations that the best of hunters would of gone and met their maker. Sure there were the rumors that they had died. But like a bad penny, they always turned back up.
It was almost as if Lady Luck smiled on ‘em. Unless, that is, you took credence to the other rumors. The ones where the name Winchester seemed to be synonymous with cursed. That even breathin’ the same air as them could mean the death of ya. But I guess it could be both. Kinda like yin and yang. It’s how life is, can’t have one without the other.
But ya know what I think? I think they knew the real truth that all good gamblers know: Luck isn’t given, it’s made. I mean if ya look at all those stories, its as plain as the nose on your face. They were scary smart, the both of ‘em, and their daddy taught ‘em every trick he knew. Course they took that and sure as anything made their own tricks, being the wily guys that they were.
The only time they ever seemed to ignore the gambler’s creed was when it came to each other. If one or the other was in some kinda trouble, there was no foldin’ or walkin’ and no way was either of ‘em runnin’. No, they held on tighter than tight. Logic and thinkin’ were thrown right out the window. They would dig in their heals - heaven and hell be damned. Literally, if ya think them stories are true.
It’s like all those myths that ya find in the books, where the hero has that one weakness, like Achilles and his heel or Samson and his hair. Them Winchesters, their only weakness was each other. Kinda sad really, seein’ that lovin’ someone too much could hurt ya. But that there is a story for another day.