“Why are you always so stubborn?” Sam's voice was dripping with annoyance and he was pacing around the room. Dean sat on the uncomfortable, tacky couch, propping his feet up on the bright purple coffee table. Even after so many years of living in cheap motel rooms, he still couldn't understand why anyone would decorate a room so horribly. “I'm not stubborn, you're just stupid,” Dean replied calmly, “Besides, why are you suddenly giving up hunting?” "We have no leads! We've been here for days, we've searched every possible file in that library and we've found absolutely nothing!" Sam was now full of screaming, “This professor could really help you, Dean! Instead of wasting our time on something that will end in nothing, we should find a way to get you out of your deal.” Dean hit the mute button on the TV control and stood up angrily, "Look, I know how you found that professor and you'd have to be damn crazy if you think I trust a demon," his eyebrows were furrowed together and his lip he was curled up in a furious expression. Sam let out an impatient sigh, "Will get over you? If he wanted us dead, we'd already be dead!" He was tired of having the same arguments over and over again. The older boy let out a sarcastic, bitter laugh, “That Ruby girl has you under her thumb, Sammy,” he ignored his brother's look, “Not you can keep running around doing whatever he tells you." "Oh, I'm sorry I don't want my brother to die." Dean looked up and stared his brother straight in the eyes, "You think I want to die?" "It sure seems like it," his voice was harsh and the words came out before Sam thought it through. He immediately… halfway down the paper… was a little too far away, but his face remained the same. "None of your business," he growled at her, "Now, what are you really doing here?" "I already told you, I'm here on business. I have a very generous customer who is interested in one of these masks," he looked at the tribal masks. “They apparently belonged to a very powerful shaman and are supposed to bring luck and good energy to the owner.” “So you're just going to steal it?” “Your trust in me is always reassuring,” Bela shrugged slightly, “There will be an auction at the end of this week. I trust that whatever you intend to do here will not interfere with my business?” “I don't know yet,” Dean shrugged, “And to be honest, I don't really care. I will do what I have to do to get this job done.” Bela looked at him significantly, but kept a smile on her face, “Let's hope not. For your own good,” he turned