Chapter 1:
The auction house was dark. Shadows cloaked the hundreds of antique objects inside it. Sam crept toward the stairs at the back, being careful to avoid bumping into or knocking over any of the priceless trinkets. He knew the auctioneer's office was on the upper floor, and there he would find records on all of their sales. "This case should be fairly simple," he thought to himself. "Another cursed mirror. Just find it, smash it, and move on."
Just as he placed his foot on the first stair tread, he felt a light hand on his shoulder, accompanied by the tingling sensation of warm breath on his neck. His hand automatically went to the inner pocket of his jacket, where both his pistol and a flask of holy water were kept. Before he could put either one to use; a familiar voice crooned in his ear. "Well, hello handsome. What brings you to my store so late at night?" He didn't know whether to be relieved that the voice was human or all the more startled at whom it belonged to.
"Gert?" he asked, confused.
"Well Sweetheart, eventually even a rich old woman like me needs something to keep her occupied. Given the absence of a fine young man like yourself," Sam could feel her press against him from behind, even though he couldn't see her in the limited moonlight the nearest window afforded. "I had no choice but to find some work."
"Dean didn't tell me you…"
Flipping on a nearby light switch, she cut him off. "Must have slipped his mind. What do you say we go on upstairs and have a little drink, give us a chance to talk? You can tell me why you're here." She trailed her hand down his back and let it rest precariously near his tailbone. "How I've missed my Adonis."
"Uh, sure Gert. I'd love to," Sam said, mentally cursing his brother. Dean had been here during business hours, posing as a buyer. He had to have known that Gert, the somewhat feisty elderly widow who had taken a certain liking to Sam during a previous escapade involving Bela, was now the owner of this particular establishment. "Angry yuppie with a handgun, beefy security guard, I expected a lot of things. Anything but this!" he thought to himself. "Dean, so help me, I'll get you for this one! Payback is a bitch." Sam allowed himself to consider the various humiliating pranks he could play on his brother in retaliation as Gert lead him up the stairs. It definitely beat focusing on the fact that her hand was on his ass.
Before he knew it, Sam found himself ensconced in Gert's office, perched on the edge of a much-too-small Victorian settee. Not only were his long legs folded at an awkward angle to accommodate the low seating height, but Gert's thy was pressed firmly against his own. She was leaning much closer to him than was necessary, and batting her eyelashes at him. It was all making Sam decidedly uncomfortable. "So Gert, uh, how did you know it was me down there?"
"I recognized your brother when he was here earlier. I thought one of you might be by tonight. I'm glad it was you." She reached over to run her fingers through Sam's shaggy locks. "So what is it you're after?"
It was only as she asked this question that Sam realized where her other hand had wandered to. He chose to ignore it. As much as he wanted to, pushing the lecherous old lady away wouldn't get him the information he needed. "A mirror that you must have sold a few weeks back," he answered. "Do you think I could see your sales receipts?"
"Oh, that's no fun," she mock pouted. "But, anything for you, Sam," Gert rose and headed over to a set of cherry wood filing cabinets against the far wall. "Would you like a drink? We can chat while you browse through my books."
"Sure Gert," Sam laughed nervously. "Why not?"
Gert returned to the settee with a glass of brandy and an armful of file folders. She handed Sam his drink, leaning in close to inhale his sent as she dropped the files in his lap. After making another circuit of the office for her own drink, she again settled herself next to him on the tiny sofa. As he was distractedly flipping through receipts, Gert burrowed her hand under the pile of folders and rested it own Sam's knee. "Is something bothering you, Handsome?"
"Huh? Uh, no. It's just that being in this place reminds me of somewhere else."
"Somewhere special?"
"Well, just a job. We spent some time at the Blake auction house in upstate New York a while ago." Sam continued to sift through papers, hoping his real emotions didn't show on his face. The last thing he wanted was for this old Cougar to think he was confiding in her, but he had to ask. "Hey, you're in the business now. Do you know the Blakes?"
"We don't exactly have a network going, you know, but I did hear something a few months ago. Or was it more like a year?" she mused.
"What?" Sam encouraged, trying not to sound so eager. "What did you hear Gert?"
"Well, it's probably just a nasty rumor, but I heard the place shut down. The father and daughter had a falling out over some bit of nasty family business, and then the old man threw in the towel."
This bit of information, vague as it was, sent Sam's mind racing in a thousand different directions. Trouble in Sarah's family? What had happened? Was she alright? It must have been something major to cause Daniel Blake to liquidate the business that had afforded him such a high end lifestyle. Sam knew he should focus on the current hunt, but he couldn't help but think of Sarah.
A/N: I really loved both Sarah (from the Provenance ep) and Gert (from the Red Sky ep) so I wanted to include them both in a story. I know this gifted Sam offspring type of story has been done before but I wanted my shot at it. This is my first SPN fic, so let me know if anything seems OCC or you have any other suggestions.