Hello people, I'm back :D. You wouldn't believe the week I had, I'm losing my mind from sleep deprivation. But to even things out, I have a long weekend because next Tuesday is a national holliday and there's no school, so I think you'll see at least another chapter before then. OK, I said the guys would find what was taking the missing people on this chapter, but it grew too long and I decided to keep that for the next one, so you'll have to be patient. So, on to the story. Please read and review.
In a very unusual scene, Dean sat on his bed on the cheap motel room, the computer set aside but still on, showing what seemed like blueprints. Around him, tossed all over the mattress were paper sheets with sketches of some sort. Sam walked calmly around the room flipping through the paper. It had been almost twenty hours since the kid in the park had disappeared.
Dean gave his brother a noticeable glare that Sam decided to ignore. It annoyed Dean that given his brother had been the one flipping over failing to save the boy, he was now reading the stupid paper instead of helping him make a plan to go save him. Dean sighed and went back to his master plan.
Sam was startled from whatever it was he was reading when Dean suddenly jumped to stand up on the bed, holding a notebook and looking intently at it.
"I've got it" He shouted excited. "I have a plan to get in the house." He looked up at Sam, who looked back at him with an eyebrow raised in disbelief. "Dude, Mission Impossible has nothing on this. Listen." Dean sat back down, and Sam approached the bed to look at the great plan Dean had scribbled in the notebook. Sam smiled at looking at the shaky drawings on the paper piece, an irregular map of the house, surrounded by several lines and a few notes around . Dean couldn't draw if his life depended on it.
"We wait until there's no one on the house, cut down the power and the phone lines. That should give us a few minutes before the people from the alarm company go check it out. We get in and you hide inside the house. When the alarms guys come, I'll run out and they'll chase after me. That will give you enough time to look around for that kid and any of the other missing people..." The master plan went on for a couple of minutes and when Sam began thinking his brother would pass out, he stopped to breathe. Dean looked up to see his brother giving him an amused look.
"What? You've got a better plan?" Dean asked, not getting what was so funny.
"Actually I think I do." Sam said. "We get invited in." Dean raised his eyebrows, wondering if all the lack of sleep had finally taken its toll on his brother's head. Sam straightened out the paper he was holding and turned it so his brother could see it.
Dean took the paper, open at the society pages. 'The Philadelphia Museum of Art new wing's inauguration.' Dean skimmed through the article wishing Sam would just get to the point, and finally got to what he suspected Sam meant. Sure enough, Mr. Victor Weidman was one of the sponsors and would be present at the cutting of the ribbon.
Dean looked up from the paper and glared at his brother.
"You couldn't have mentioned this before I designed my stupid genius master plan?" Dean growled.
Sam stood up smirking and before getting inside the bathroom said. "You might want to iron your suit, we are crashing a fancy party." Dean threw the notebook at the closing bathroom door after making some threatening comment along the lines of 'better not use all the hot water'.
Dean looked around the giant room, all expensive chandeliers, columns, paintings that made no sense, people dressed like they were going to the Oscars. Sam elbowed his brother as Dean made a face of discomfort and tugged at the collar of his shirt, trying to relieve the itch the tie was causing him.
"Man, try to act natural or we'll get kicked out." Sam gritted in a low voice, leaning sideways towards his brother. He turned to see Dean grinning and noticed he had sounded like a mother telling her children to behave. He straightened up again, embarrassed, and looked away.
He looked back at the entrance, to see if the security guards were looking at them. The well dressed gorillas were too busy with the growing crowd that was forming in the outside of the building. He was grateful for that crowd.
It had been fairly easy getting in. Dean had picked a particularly unpleasant man who had walked up to the front of the line, acting like he owned the place and demanding to get in. The brothers approached the man, and with a discreet nudge with his shoulder while stepping on the man's shoe, Dean brought him down unceremoniously. The man grabbed for anything in his reach while falling and had brought down one of the security guards with him. Taking advantage of the confusion, Dean and Sam sneaked inside.
Standing next to a column of the large room, they waited for the whole inauguration speech and cutting of the ribbon and the stilled handshakes and smiling for the press to be over, finally following the crowd into the new wing of the museum.
Sam nudged his brother's shoulder with his own, making a gesture with his head. Dean followed his brother's eyes to the man they were looking for. Mr. Weidman stood surrounded by a group of friends and reporters, his gorgeous wife standing next to him, her hand resting on his folded arm. After a few minutes, the reporters went to take pictures of the place and Sam walked up to the group surrounding their prey.
Dean noticed Mrs. Weidman leaning to whisper something in her husband's ear. He leaned a little towards her, nodding but not turning to her, while still talking with an old man. She turned around and walked away from them. Just a few seconds later, Sam got to the men talking and Dean saw him say something and shake Weidman's hand. He looked right in his medium. Dean decided to try his luck, just in case Sam didn't get the invitation they needed, and followed Weidman's wife.
Mrs. Weidman stood in front of a modern art painting, a mess of swirling lines of different colors and some smudges. The gesture she made at the painting showing her lack of appreciation for it. Dean walked slowly and not attempting to be quiet so he wouldn't scare her. She turned her head to look at him, and turned back to the painting. He stood a couple steps next to her, looking at the picture too, but gazing sideways at her. The woman was beautiful, with blond hair picked up in some fancy salon style way that gave Dean the idea of something he would see in an old renaissance painting. She was almost as tall as he was, her very lean body framed by a long gray dress that made her green-gray eyes seem much darker. She couldn't be older than 35.
"I wish my mother had kept my childhood artwork." Dean said, turning slightly from the painting and gaining the woman's attention. "It could have been displayed right next to this one." Dean said smiling and the woman chuckled, now turning to face him.
"I don't think this should even be called artwork." She said with a very light foreign accent that Dean couldn't quite make out, she obviously tried to hide it. "I guess you feel the same way I do about this 'modern art', Mr. ..." She trailed of.
"Linton. Dean Linton." Dean answered, kicking himself inwardly at his lame James Bond like introduction.
"Aurora Weidman." She said with a flirtatious voice, extending her hand, which Dean took and kissed in the most noble like way he could manage.
"Its a pleasure." He said, and she forced a polite smile. Dean got the impression he was losing points with her, apparently she didn't like all this snobby crap.
"Are you our host's wife?" Dean asked in a much more casual way, turning on the charm. "I don't know why I get the impression you are not enjoying this party very much." He added, and she turned again to look at him.
"I guess I have been to one too many parties like this. They bore me." She said, waving her arm graciously in front of her to point at the whole place. Dean was trying to decide whether her accent was Spanish or Italian. "It seems you don't care for this parties either." She added. "May I ask what brings you here?" She asked him with genuine curiosity in her voice.
"Business." Dean said. "I own an interior's decoration company. There are always potential clients in this events." He continued.
"You don't say." She said, apparently surprised. "My husband and I just moved to a large house on the east side of the city. We are remodeling several rooms. Perhaps you could come see the house and show me some ideas." She explained.
"Really?" Dean acted surprised. Of course it was no coincidence, he already knew from the movers trucks he had seen parked outside the mansion when they had gone looking for the black limousine. "Then I guess I came to the right place." He said. "Here's my card." He said taking the single card he had inside his suit jacket. He had remembered to put it there so he would have to take out his ragged, old wallet to hand out a card.
The woman took the card, putting it inside the small purse she seemed to appear out of nowhere. She looked over her shoulder at her husband, and Dean looked at the group, wondering where Sam was.
"Well, Mr. Linton." She said. "It was a pleasure meeting you. I'll have someone call you to give you directions to our house. I trust you are free tomorrow morning?" She asked.
"Yes, tomorrow works perfectly." He said. She extended her hand at him again, and this time he just shook it softly.
"Then I'll see you tomorrow." She said and turned to get back to her husband.
Dean walked up a staircase and looked over the room, trying to find his brother. He was getting a little worried, but decided he was just being paranoid. They where in a public place, filled with snobs who talked in whispers, he would have heard something if Sam was taken by anything. He decided to get back to the car. On his way out he found Sam sitting outside the building. Sam stood up at seeing his brother.
"What took you so long?" Sam asked, annoyed.
"What happened to you?" Dean asked amused, noticing his brother's disheveled clothes.
"Weidman wasn't interested in bribing a government agent to buy the lake behind his house. When I insisted he said people like me was the reason he hated politicians and had his security guards kick me out." Sam scoffed. "For a serial killer he sure has some strong moral values." He added. "I guess we are back to plan A." He looked up to see his brother trying to conceal a smile forming on his face.
"What's so funny?" Asked Sam, glaring at Dean.
"The geek boy, all etiquette and protocols, got kicked out of the fancy party while his uneducated brother got invited to the Weidman mansion." Dean said smirking.
"You what?" Sam asked as he stood up, his eyes widening. "How did you do it?"
"Oh, because I'm a major snob, you know, I just talked about the stock market, the new Ferrari I just bought, the charities I'm donating to..."
"OK, don't tell me." Sam snapped and Dean laughed.
The brothers got to the car and drove quietly back to the motel. Dean was still gloating about being the one who got them into the mansion.
Sam flopped down on his bed and listened to his brother flipping through the channels on the TV for a few minutes before dozing off.
A blond woman walked through a dark, frightening forest. Sam could feel her fast beating heart as if it was his own. She was scared, but she went on, looking for something. He felt something moving in the shadows. Whatever it was it didn't make a sound or do anything to make itself known, but he felt it anyway, its strong presence getting closer. The woman felt it too, her heart beating faster. Suddenly, something leaped out of the shadows. She didn't even get a chance to scream.
"Sam!" Sam opened his eyes, breathing in quick, uneven pants. Dean stood next to his bed. "Are you OK?" Sam looked around the room, noticing the sun light leaking through the cracks in the windows. It was morning already and he felt like he had only slept a few minutes.
"Yeah." He rasped, his voice still sleepy. He scrubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. "What time is it?" Sam asked. Dean looked at his watch.
"9 o'clock I just got a call from Weidman wife's assistant. We have to be there in an hour." Dean answered. "Was it another past-not-vision again?" He asked, and Sam sighed. He thought he had successfully changed the subject.
"Yeah." He cleared his throat to get the last remains of sleep off his voice. "They make no sense. It's like they are parts of a movie showing in disorder, without a sequence." Sam sat up, and Dean looked at him with concern.
"Are you sure we shouldn't look into this?" Dean asked. "This not-visions are getting very persistent, maybe they mean something." He added, Sam looked up at him.
"We will when we get this job done. So the faster the better. Come on, we have 50 minutes to be at Weidman's" Sam said, getting up and going into the bathroom.
Dean shook his head with preoccupation for a second, but his eyes suddenly widened as he realized his brother had won the bathroom again. He dashed to the bathroom and got to the door just in time to have it slammed on his face. He heard Sam's evil laugh from the inside.
"Damn it!" Dean kicked the door softly.
OK, so? what do you think so far?. Please review.