Provenance ReWritePart One
Okay, this has been one that I have been looking forward to doing since I started this fic. A lot of people have requested I do this one, and of course I said YES! This is probably one of my favorite episodes in the series, so hopefully I don't slaughter it or anything. We're nearing the end of season one! Only a few more episodes!
Disclaimer: I don't own supernatural or any of the characters that you recognize. If I did own it, why would I be writing this fic, hmm???
Just a reminder, words in bold is Abbie 'think-talking'. Is think-talking a word? I have no idea, nor do I care. It is now. :-P
Without further ado, I present to you, Provenance.
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In a local bar in New York, Sam, Dean, and I are chilling out before our next job. Dean is off flirting with two attractive girls at the bar. And when I say 'attractive', I mean way too much makeup and not enough clothes; Dean's type.
Sam and I, on the other hand, are sitting table just talking about nothing. I know, exciting topic.
"Ten bucks says Dean has some STD or something." I say jokingly.
"You know, you're probably right." Sam says; a smile gracing his lips. He reaches into his messenger bag and pulls out Dad's journal and the local newspaper.
"Do you go anywhere without that thing?" I say, motioning to Dad's journal.
"Nope." He says as he starts to leaf through it. I grab the newspaper that he set on the table and start to flip through it. I notice lots of 'interesting' headlines such as 'Talented Cat Saves Dog from Tree' and don't forget about 'Underwater Fire Burns down House'. I point to the last headline and nudge Sam on the shoulder.
"How does that even make sense?" I ask him while laughing.
"I have no idea…" Sam says. He trails off and stares at something on the opposite side of the page.
"What?" I ask him.
"Look." He says pointing to a headline that reads 'Couple's Throats Slashed in Own Home'.
"Yes, that's pretty vicious, what's your point?" I ask him.
Sam doesn't answer me. Instead, he hastily flips through Dad's journal. He stops at page and quickly reads over something.
"Did you find something?" I ask him curiously.
"Yeah, I think." Sam answers. He waves at Dean, trying to get his attention, but it doesn't work. Dean just ignores him. He waves again, but this time it actually works. Dean rolls his eyes and walks over to where we're sitting.
"All right, so, I think I got somethin'." Sam says.
"Oh, yeah. Me, too. I think we need to take a little shore leave for just a little bit. What do you think, huh? I'm so in the door with this one." Dean says pointing to the girls standing at the bar.
"Men." I say rolling my eyes.
"What?" Dean asks.
"As if I have to say it." I tell him, sticking out my tongue at him.
"So, what are we today, Dean? Are we rock stars? Are we army rangers?" Sam asks him.
"Reality TV scouts looking for people with special skills." Dean says, laughing slightly. I just roll my eyes again. Dean continues, "I mean, hey, it's not that far off, right? By the way, she's got a friend over there. I could probably hook you up, what do you think?" Dean tells Sam who scoffs.
"Dean, no thanks, I can get my own dates." Sam tells him.
"Yeah, you can, but you don't." Dean says.
"What is that supposed to mean?" Sam asks him.
"Nothin'. What do you got?" Dean asks ignoring Sam's question.
"Mark and Anne Telesca of New Paltz, New York were both found dead in their home just a few days ago." Sam says telling him about the people in the newspaper.
"Mmhmm." Dean says, staring off into space. Well, not 'space' but the girls at the bar.
"Throats were slit, there were no prints, no murder weapons—Dean." Sam tells him, but he's obvisously not listening.
"Dean?" I ask loudly. Dean turns to face us and gives us an annoyed look.
"No prints, no murder weapons, all doors and windows were locked from the inside." Sam re-tells him.
"Could just be a garden-variety murder, you know, not our department." Dean says, brushing the job off.
"I think someone just doesn't want to do this job." I say. I take a sip from my beer.
"Either way, Dad says different." Sam says.
"What do you mean?" Dean asks him.
"Look." Sam says, turning Dad's journal to Dean. "Dad noted three murders in the same area of upstate New York. First one, right here, 1912, the second one in 1945, and the third in 1970. The same M.O. as the Telescas—the throats were slit, the houses were locked from the inside. Now, so much time passed between the murders that nobody checked the pattern, except for Dad. He always kept his eyes peeled for another one." Sam tells us.
"And now we got one." Dean says.
"Exactly." Sam says.
"All right, I'm with ya. It's worth checkin' out." Dean says. Sam nods his head agreeing with him.
"Yup, sounds good." I say, nodding my head too.
"We can pick this up till the first thing, though, right?" Dean asks us.
"Yeah." Sam says, slightly confused.
"Good." Dean says happily.
"Why?" I ask him. Dean gets up and walks back over to the girls at the bar, leaving my question un-answered. Well, sorta.
A little while later, I'm bored out of my mind. Dean left a few minutes with his lady friends to do…well, you know. Sam is still reading Dad's journal for more information.
"Sam?"
"Hmm?" He replies.
"I'm bored." I announce.
"Then, do something." He tells me, momentarily looking up from Dad's journal.
"Like?"
"Abbie, you're 22 years old. I think you're old enough to find something to do." Sam tells me sternly.
"Fine. Let's go." I say to him. I grab my things and stand up, waiting for him to follow.
"Go where?" He asks me, closing the journal and putting it back in his messenger bag along with the newspaper.
"We're going to do some research while Dean is busy." I say to him.
"Okay." Sam says following me out of the bar and off to do some research.
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"Let's hurry up and finish, this house is creeping me out.." I say to Sam. We're checking out the Telesca Residence with the EMF meter.
"Okay, that should do it." Sam replies to my comment. "Let's go."
We sneak out of the (since it is a crime scene) and as we walk to the Impala, I see Dean fast asleep in the passenger seat. Sam reaches through the driver window and honks the horn. Dean jumps and wakes up, yelling profanities left and right. Sam and I get into the car laughing.
"Man, that is so not cool." Dean says.
"We just swept the Telesca house with the EMF. It's clean. And last night, while you were," Sam pauses to roll his eyes and finishes, "out…" Dean smiles, remembering what he did.
"Good times." He says.
"We researched the house, nothing out of the ordinary." I say.
"Nothing strange about the Telesca's themselves either." Sam adds.
"All right, so if it's not the people and it's not the house, then, uh….maybe it's the contents—a cursed object or somethin'." Dean suggests. Sam shakes his head disagreeing.
"The house is clean." Sam says to him.
"Yeah, I know, you said that." Dean says, his tempering rising.
"No, literally, it's empty. Nothing's in there." I tell him.
"Where's all their stuff?" Dean asks.
"Well, lucky for us, I found a business card on the floor that someone dropped." I say to him. I'm holding the thin card between my pointer and middle finger.
"And that helps us how?" Dean asks, not getting my point.
"It means that we know where their stuff is." Sam tells him.
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Inside an auction house where the Telesca's belongings are, my brothers and I are looking at the items. Fancy vases, expensive paintings, priceless jewelry; man, these Telesca people had it good.
"Silent auctions, estate sales—it's like a garage sale for W.A.S.P.s, if you ask me." Dean says to us. He takes some food after a tray and stuffs it in his mouth.
"Dean, at least try and act like you've evolved." I say to him.
A clean shaved man approaches us; he clears his throat and says, "Can I help you?"
"I'd like some champagne, please." Dean says with his mouth still full. I roll my eyes at him. Obviously, this man is not a waiter.
"He's not a waiter." Sam says to Dean who looks embarrassed. "I'm Sam Connors." Sam extends his hand to the man, but he doesn't shake it.
This guy is rude, I think-talk to Sam. He gives me a knowing look.
"This is my brother Dean and my sister Abbie. We are art dealers with Connors Limited." Sam says introducing us.
"You're art dealers?" The man asks skeptically.
"That's right." I say to him with a smile that I personally hope says, 'I hate you'.
"I'm Daniel Blake. This is my auction house. Now, this is a private showing, and I don't remember seeing you on the guest list." The man named Daniel says.
"We're there, Chuckles. You just need to take another look." Dean says, still stuffing his face. I swear that when we get out of here, I'm gonna kick his ass. Sam is shocked at Dean.
A waiter carrying a tray of champagne walks past us; Dean grabs a glass off the tray. "Oh, finally." Dean turns to face Daniel, sniff's the champagne and walks off.
"Cheers." Sam says. We both leave Daniel where he is.
"I swear to all that is good in this world, that I'm gonna kill Dean." I mutter to him under my breath.
"You can't kill him." Sam says.
"Why's that?"
"Because I'm gonna kill him first." Sam says.
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"Dean!" I yell at him once we're a little ways from Daniel. It's not really a yell per se, but it wasn't a causal tone either.
"What?" Dean asks.
"What?! You are embarrassment to humans everywhere." I say to him.
"I think I found something." Sam says. He's standing in front a creepy painting.
"Isn't that the painting from the Telesca's?" I ask him.
"Yup." Sam replies.
A female voice from behind us says, "A fine example of American primitive, wouldn't you say?"
We turn around and see a woman walking down some stairs. She's wearing an elegant black dress. I look to Sam and Dean. Sam looks confused at her comment for some reason. To me, she seems nice, but I can't say for sure. And Dean, you can probably guess what he's thinking.
"Well, I'd say it's more Grant Wood than Grandma Moses." Sam says. The woman looks to the ground ashamed. Wait, why is she ashamed? "But you knew that. You just wanted to see if I did." Sam finishes, answering my question.
"Guilty. And clumsy, I apologize. I'm Sarah Blake." The woman introduces herself. Dean grabs some food off a passing tray. Sarah extends her hand to both Sam who shakes it.
"I'm Sam. This is my twin Abbie," Sam says introducing me. Sarah extends her hand for me to shake which I do. Sam then continues by saying, "This is my…" He pauses to see that Dean is stuffing his face again, "brother, Dean."
"Dean?" She questions.
"Mm?" Is his reply.
"Can we get you some more mini-quiche?" She asks politely.
"I'm good, thanks." He says, somewhat rudely.
Sarah turns back to Sam, "So, can I help you with something?"
"Yeah, actually. What can you tell us about the Telesca estate?" Sam asks her.
"The whole thing's pretty grisly, if you ask me, selling their things this soon. But, Dad's right about one thing. Sensationalism brings out the crowds—even the rich ones." She says, smiling somewhat. Sam smiles back her.
Aww, little Sammy (who is the tallest one in our family by the way) has a crush.
"Is it possible to see the provenances?" Sam asks her.
Sarah opens her mouth to speak, but is interrupted by her father. He clears his throat.
"I'm afraid there isn't any chance of that." Daniel says.
"And why is that?" I ask him. This guy is getting on my nerves.
"You're not on the guest list. And I think it's time to leave." He replies.
"Well, we don't have to be told twice." Dean says.
"Apparently, you do." Daniel tell us.
"Okay, it's all right. We don't want any trouble. We'll go." Sam says. Dean walks away. Sam gives Sarah one last somewhat sad look before we both walk away.
On our way out, I hear Sarah scold her father by saying something along the lines of 'that was rude'.
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Okay, sorry for the long-ish wait. I haven't had much time to write because of dance. I'm going to camp on Wednesday and won't be back until Saturday, so I'll try and get part two out before then, but no promises.
So, what'd you think? How'd I do? Please let me know! Remember, no meanies!!! Only critique and praise! Thanks!