**Hey! Sorry this update was slow; I'm trying to go faster but it's hard! Anyway, tell me what you think, and if you have any ideas, thoughts, or questions PM or review! Seriously, though, review; I love love love reading them and they inspire me to write faster! So close to the season finale! Quick note: there'll be more flashbacks coming in later chapters cause there's none in this one, and I'm sorry about that. It's going to be good, so keep reading! Thank you to everyone, and hope you like it!**
Provenance
"Okay, okay. Favorite hunt from high school," Dean called, grinning as he looked down at me. I bit my lip in thought for a moment, glancing around and trying to decide on one. We were taking shots at the bar while Sammy was busy trying to find a new hunt; he was always trying to find a new hunt. Finally, I chose and looked back up at Dean through my lashes.
"The wendigo hunt in Minnesota," I replied honestly, smiling at the memory. Dean's grin widened, making mine do the same. It was the first time he'd said 'I love you' to me, and even now, ten years later, I could still remember every detail of that moment with perfect clarity. He leaned down, his hands resting on the bar countertop, one on either side of my waist. His lips pressed to mine, and I kissed him back gently. It wasn't a demanding kiss, but it was gentle and soft as if he was reminding himself that I was real, that I was his again.
"I'm so lucky," He murmured the words, pulling back only slightly so our lips were centimeters apart. I laughed lightly at his statement; Dean was definitely drunker than I was, which wasn't surprising since he'd had more shots.
"Really? Well, I was thinking tonight you might get even luckier," My voice lowered as I ended my sentence, and I could feel the grin spreading on his lips.
"What'd you have in mind?" My eyes flicked up to meet his, which were darkened with lust, before they danced away, happening to catch Sam waving to us from his table. I sighed heavily, knowing I couldn't ignore the gesture. Dean followed my gaze and cursed under his breath, "We could ignore him," Dean suggested with a childlike hopefulness, grinning cockily down at me, and tempting me to take his advice, but I shook my head, brushing my lips against his briefly before taking his hand and starting towards Sam.
"All right, so, I think I got something," Sam started as we reached the table, and Dean set down his beer while I pushed mine over to Sam in case he wanted some. Dean wanted to order more shots, but I refused to let him, seeing as he'd had almost three for every one I'd had, which meant I was buzzed and he was a bit tipsy.
"Oh, yeah, me too," Dean agreed with his brother, glancing down at me with a sexy smirk pulling at his lips that made me smile. "I think we need to take a little shore leave for just a little bit. What do you think, huh?" I just shook my head fondly and rolled my eyes at him, returning my attention to Sam.
"It couldn't hurt, Sammy," He put his head in his hand. "Come on. Lighten up a little," I nodded to my beer, which he finally took a sip of.
"By the way, that blonde over there by the bar," Sam followed Dean's eyes to where he was looking at a tall blonde haired girl leaning on the bar, talking to her friend. "She's been checking you out all night. You should go talk to her. What do you think?"
"Uh, no thanks, guys. I can get my own dates," Sam shook his head, and a small frown pulled at my lips.
"Really? Then why are you sitting here alone?" I questioned, and Sam furrowed his eyebrows. I'd been holding in my worry for him for a while now, but Dean had been starting to feel it too, which made it harder to hide.
"What is that supposed to mean?" Sam inquired, his tone letting me know I was on dangerous ground, and I glanced at Dean for help.
"Nothing," Dean told him, his eyes dropping to the newspaper in Sam's hands. "What do you got?"
"Mark and Anna Telesca of New Paltz, New York were both found dead in their home just a few days ago," Dean drank from his beer as Sam talked, and I tried to pay attention. "Throats were slit, there were no prints, no murder weapons, all - Dean?" I glanced at my boyfriend just in time to see him snap his eyes away from me and back to Sam. "No murder weapon, no prints - all doors and windows were locked from the inside," Dean nodded as he took it in, and I shrugged.
"It could just be a smart murderer," I suggested; the idea wasn't that ludicrous. There were such things as clever killers.
"No, Dad says differently," I frowned at Sam's sudden mention of John, and my eyes dropped to study the journal that he turned towards us so we could read.
"What do you mean?" Dean questioned as he began scanning the page.
"Look," Sam pointed to the map that was taped to the page. "Dad noted three murders in the same area of upstate New York. First one, right here, 1912," Sam drew our attentions to the first paragraph scrawled onto the page. "The second one in 1945, and the third in 1970. The same M.O. as the Telescas - the throats were slit, the house was locked from the inside. So much time passed between the murders that nobody checked the pattern except for Dad. He always kept his eyes peeled for another thing,"
"And this is it," I finished for him, and he nodded in agreement.
"Exactly," Dean and I exchanged a glance, debating whether to go with Sam's hunch.
"All right. We're with you. It's worth checking out," Dean finally decided. "We can't pick this up till first thing, though, right?" Sam glanced at me, and I begged him with my eyes to say yes.
"Yeah," He sighed finally, making Dean and I grin.
"Great," He turned to me, still grinning. "Can I buy you a drink?" I smiled widely.
"Thought you'd never ask,"
A car horn blared loudly, and pain jolted through my head, making me and Dean jump and me curl into Dean's side. I groaned as I heard the car door open and Sam laughing.
"You're a dick," I mumbled, glancing at the kid, who was still laughing at the two of us. I managed to straighten, and turn to face him as he slid into the driver's seat.
"Oh, man, that's so not cool," Dean glared at his brother through his sunglasses, leaning on the passenger door while keeping one arm around my waist. We'd opted to stay here to cope with our hangover while Sam went into the Telesca house to see if he could find anything.
"I just swept the Telesca house with the EMF. It's clean," Sammy informed us. "And last night, while you two were…" He searched for the word, glancing between us. "…out…" He settled for, making Dean smirk and let out a chuckle.
"Good times," The words came out as more of a moan, and I took the sunglasses off of his face and put them onto mine. He was either too tired or too pained to protest.
"…I checked the history of the house," Sam went on. "No hauntings, no violent crimes, nothing strange about the Telescas themselves, either," I frowned at how difficult this case was turning out to be; I'd hoped it was going to be a two second salt-burn-and-ditch job.
"So if it's not the people, and it's not the house, then maybe it's the contents-" Dean offered, and Sam shook his head.
"House is clean," He repeated, looking miffed.
"Yeah, you already said that," I told him, becoming slightly annoyed at how the conversation was going in circles. Sam looked back at us in slight surprise, as if we weren't getting something.
"No, I mean it's empty," That caught my attention, and I straightened fully from where I'd been resting slightly against Dean.
"What do you mean 'empty'?" I questioned, and Sam shrugged.
"Empty - no furniture, nothing," I bit my lip in thought. That is why the EMF didn't pick anything up, so we were dealing with a cursed object of some sort.
"Where's all there stuff?" Dean beat me to the question, and we both looked to Sam for an answer.
"They're selling it all day," Sam nodded up the road. "The auction is about five miles or so that way," I glanced down at my shorts, tank top and jacket; I needed to change.
"Let's go," Dean told him, not caring that the three of us were sitting in the front seat.
"Actually, can you drop me off at the motel. I'll meet you both there in twenty minutes," Sam frowned and glanced at me. "I'm going to take another shower," I explained, and Dean gave a pained chuckle. I'd done this when we were in high school too; every time I was hungover I'd take around three to four showers, or sometimes baths, that day. Sam dropped me off at the motel, which turned out to be on the way, and it was only a couple miles from the auction. I gave Dean a quick peck on the lips before getting out and moving my eyes to Sam. "Get him some water," Sam grinned widely, a grin that let me know that a part of him was liking seeing Dean suffering a bit. I rolled my eyes and shook my head affectionately at the two of them before turning and going into the motel room, hearing the Impala driving away behind me.
I walked into the motel room and went straight to my bag, pulling it onto the bed and rummaging through it a moment before finding what I was looking for. The simple, black dress that I'd bought a month or so ago for myself in case I needed it. Well, that and the fact that I looked pretty good in it, if I do say so myself. I took a quick shower before blow drying my hair and putting on the black dress and heels. I walked over to the full length mirror and studied myself, a smile making it's way onto my face. The top of the dress what just tight enough, and it remained tight until my waist, where it turned loose till my knees. The sleeves were tight on the sides of my shoulders, restricting my movement slightly but not so much that it would be a real problem, should something happen.
My next move was to call a cab and head out, taking the black purse, that I almost never used, with me after shoving my phone and some money into it. I walked out to the road and bumped into a woman who was walking rather quickly down it.
"Sorry," I apologized after I'd regained my balance, and she shook her head.
"No, my fault. I wasn't watching where I was going," She told me, and I took in what she was wearing. A black dress, different than mine but very pretty and black and gold heels. She seemed to be seizing me up as much as I was her. "Sorry if this is forward, but are you going to the auction?" She inquired, her eyes done looking at my dress, now returned to my face.
"Yes, I'm just waiting for the taxi I called," The woman smiled at my words and waved a dismissive hand.
"The taxis take forever to pick you up out here. I can drive you if you want. I'm heading there anyways," She told me, and I followed her gaze to the dark blue car that was parked.
"Yeah, that would be great. Thank you so much," She led the way to her car, and I slipped into the passenger's seat. She pulled out and soon we were on the main road heading towards the auction. "I'm Melody, by the way, but I go by Mel," I know it's dangerous to get into the car with someone that I didn't even have the name of, but despite everything that's happened to me and my job, I do like to look for the good in people. That and I had a handgun in my purse that would take two seconds to pull out and fire.
"I'm Sarah Blake," She answered, smiling while keeping her eyes on the road. "My dad runs the auction," I nodded, glancing out the window. "God, I'm so late," She muttered, glancing at the digital clock. "I hope he doesn't notice,"
"I'm sure you can just sneak in the back," She laughed lightly at my words. "Not to be ungrateful, but you barely know me and now you're giving me rides?" She laughed again.
"In this town, everyone knows each other, so when you see someone you don't know, you tend to be curious," She explained, and I accepted the reason without question. "So, why are you here?"
"Just passing through. Trying to see the sights, you know?" She nodded in understanding. "I'm on a road trip with my boyfriend and his brother,"
"But why are you going to an auction?" My ears picked up the slight bitterness to her tone when she mentioned the auction, and I glanced at her questioningly.
"My boyfriend's brother, Sam, is into the arts. He wanted to see the auction," Before I could ask her about the auction, she pulled into the lot and parked right in front, getting out quickly. I followed her to the front where a man was standing with a clipboard, letting people in.
"Sarah, hi," The man nodded for her to pass before glancing at me with his eyes narrowed. Sarah turned back to look at me questioningly when I didn't follow her into the room.
"I'm going to stay out here for a moment," I held up my phone and waved it. "I have to make a call," She nodded, and my best chance at getting in walked away. I sighed heavily; this had been one of the main reasons I'd had the boys drop me off at the motel instead of going in with them. I'd been pushing it off for too long. I flipped the phone open and scrolled through my contacts till I found the name I was looking for. Taking a deep breath, I pressed call and held the phone to my ear.
"Hello?" For a moment, my mouth worked, but no words came out. "Hello? Mel?" I could almost hear her silently counting in her head. Thirty seconds. Thirty seconds after she picked up she'd hang up if I didn't respond.
"Jez," I finally managed to get the word out. I hadn't spoken to my sister in over a year, and now I was just calling out of the blue.
"Mels, what're you doing? Why didn't you call?" I usually checked in with her every year or so, but it had been a little more than a year and a half now.
"Sorry, I've been really… busy," I finished lamely, knowing that she'd pick up on the worry in my voice.
"What's wrong? What's happening?" She asked hurriedly.
"It's John," I heard her sharp intake of breath. Her and John hadn't gotten along all too well. Of course, they rarely saw each other, but when they did it wasn't exactly a happy reunion. "He's missing," There was a long moment of silence before she spoke again.
"What do you mean 'missing'?" She questioned, an edge to her voice that I'd hoped to avoid. "He just abandoned you? Typical John," As hotheaded as I could be at times, Jez was worse.
"He's hunting the thing that killed Mom," I confessed, and I could almost see Jez rolling her eyes, so I hurried on before she could say anything. "I mean, really hunting it. He's close, and Sam-"
"Sam?" Shit. I hadn't remembered that she didn't know Sam was with us. She hadn't gotten along with John so much, but she'd loved Sam like her own brother. Dean too, but she'd been closer with Sam. "I thought Sam was at college?"
"We got him after John vanished into thin air," I heard her deep breath and went on before she had the chance to speak. "Sam… it killed his girlfriend," I explained, knowing what her next question would be before she spoke it.
"What?" There was no anger now, just pity and fear.
"Yeah, Jessica… just like Mom," I elaborated, squeezing my eyes shut. "We didn't get there in time," I hadn't told Jez about my abilities. I didn't tell her about anything that would even remotely tempt her to get back into the life. I was happy for her. She was free from the hunter's life, and she had a family to think about now.
"God," She breathed, and I nodded even though she couldn't see me. "That's horrible. Is he alright?"
"He will be," I tried to ignore how much of that statement was hope. "We're in New Paltz, New York right now," I switched the subject. "Investigating the death of a married couple,"
"Are you planning on coming to visit anytime soon?" She asked, and I could hear the fear in her voice but also the hope.
"I don't know," I answered truthfully, glancing back at the man who stood in front of the auction house. "We aren't anywhere near Helena, Montana right now,"
"We don't live in Helena anymore," She informed me brightly, and I nodded, not surprised. They'd wanted to stay in big cities or near them to avoid being noticed, but they moved a lot cause Jez and Dustin were paranoid. Not that I could blame them. First, it was Austin, Texas, then Los Angeles, then Dallas, then Helena. They stayed in Helena the longest so far; it had been three years. "We live in Cicero, Indiana now," I frowned at her choice; that town wasn't well known or immensely populated. The only reason I even knew where that was was that Dean and I had worked a job there around five years ago.
"Really? Isn't that a suburban town mostly?" I questioned, not even bothering to hide my incredulity.
"Yeah, but Dustin and I like it. It's very quaint and quiet," I smiled as she talked about the town she was staying in. "Jeremy just turned six, you know, and Mace's four now,"
"Wow, that sounds amazing, Jez," I felt the familiar ache in my heart. I wanted to see them so badly. The other half of my family. "I'm going to try to stop by, but I can't promise anything," I told her, knowing I had to get inside and do my job.
"Okay," She sounded disappointed but seemed to brush it off. "Call me if you can,"
"I will," I promised her, knowing that there was a good chance I couldn't.
"Bring Dean and Sam," She added, and my smile grew.
"I have to go, Jez," I heard her sigh, and I was just pulling the phone away from my ear when she stopped me.
"Mel, be careful," I smiled at her concerned voice. Jez had been a very good hunter, but she was an even better sister.
"I'll try," The line went dead, and I snapped the phone shut, turning to the man in the suit holding the clipboard. My eyes slid past him to look in the very reflective window behind him. I found one particular name on the list, and I focused on the man again.
"Rosalie White," His eyes widened fractionally, and he stepped out of my way with a hand out to his side.
"Welcome, Ms. White," I walked past him and into the room that was decorated in art; the Telescas must've been collectors. I closed my eyes and focused on my hearing, trying to find the boys and wincing as the hangover made it difficult to focus. Finally, I picked up on Sam's voice below me.
"Yeah, actually, uh, what can you tell us about the Telesca estate?" He inquired, and I kept my focus on him, trying to find out who he was talking too.
"Well, the whole thing's pretty grisly if you ask me, selling their things this soon," I opened my eyes to find a man holding a plate of what looked like quiches out to me.
"Would you like one, Miss?" I shook my head and held up a hand.
"No, thank you," I answered him politely. He walked away, and I headed to the stairs.
"I'm afraid there isn't a chance of that," I heard as I reached the top of the steps. The voice sounded like an older male.
"Why not?" Sam questioned confidently.
"You're not on the guest list… and I think it's time to leave," The man spoke to them with an edge of annoyance in his voice.
"There you two are," They all looked up at me as I descended the stairs, and I had to fight a smile as I saw Dean's eyes widen slightly. I walked around Sarah, who was standing next to a man that I could only assume was her father. "Sorry if they caused any trouble,"
"And you are…?" The man asked me, raising his eyebrows.
"Rosalie White," I introduced myself, hoping the name had as much of an impact on him as it had on the man at the door. I was not disappointed.
"Of course, Miss White, terribly sorry," The man glanced past me at Dean and Sam in disgust before leaving.
"You should probably go," Sarah told us, and my eyes flicked to her questioningly. "The real Rosalie White could arrive soon," I grinned at how quickly she'd caught on.
"You two know each other?" Sam questioned in confusion.
"She gave me a ride here," I informed him, and Sarah just smiled. "She's right though; we should be leaving," I didn't miss the sheepish smile Sam sent Sarah as we went back up the stairs and out the door. The drive back to the motel took almost no time, and soon we were getting out and heading inside.
"Grant wood, grandma moses - what?" Dean asked Sam, and I glanced between them in confusion.
"What?" I echoed Dean's word in confusion.
"Our little Sammy hit it off with a girl," I smiled largely at Sam, who looked vaguely uncomfortable.
"Art history course," He explained as he unlocked the door to his room. "It's good for meeting girls," My grin widened as he finished his explanation.
"Sam, you're getting to be a big boy now," He rolled his eyes at my teasing.
"What was the providence?" Dean questioned him curiously, and I frowned in confusion again.
"You mean, provenance?" I corrected, and Dean glanced at me, nodding.
"Yeah, it's a certificate of origin," Sam told us. "Like a biography, you know?" He clarified before continuing. "We can use them to trace the history of the pieces, see if anything's got a freaky past,"
"We're not getting anything out of chuckles," I didn't even have to ask to know Dean was talking about Sarah's dad.
"Sarah, on the other hand," I caught on to Dean's plan, looking at Sam who was unpacking his bag. Sam glanced at us and did a double take when he realized we were both staring at him.
"What?" He asked innocently, and I rolled my eyes.
"Sam, she was into you," I simplified it as much as I could for him.
"Oh, no, no, no, no," Sam shook his head, turning back to unpacking. "Dating is your thing, guys,"
"It wasn't our butt she was checking out," Dean pointed out, and I laughed lightly causing Sam to turn a look on me.
"In other words, you both want me to use her to get information," Sam summed up, and I frowned at the sharpness in his voice.
"Sometimes you got to take one for the team," I set down my purse on the bed and pulled out my phone, tossing it to Sam.
"Just call her," He hesitated for a moment, glancing at me before finally dialing the number.
"I'm worried about him," Dean admitted; it was the first time I'd heard him say it aloud, and I tilted my head to look up at him from where it had been resting on his bare chest.
"I think he can handle one date, Dean," He chuckled at my joke, but we both knew that wasn't what he'd been talking about.
"You saw him today, Mel. We had to twist his arm just to get him to call her," I let out a small sigh at his words.
"He's still healing, Dean," I tried to stifle my own worry. "He just needs time,"
"It's been ten months now. How much more time does he need?" I bit my lip at his words.
"What if it was me?" I tried a different approach, raising myself on my elbow so I could gaze down into his eyes, and Dean's hand stopped stroking my arm as his tightened around my waist.
"What?" His voice held surprise, but I could tell he understood what I was getting at.
"What if it was me?" I repeated. "What if I had died, how long would it take you?" He didn't answer, but I could see the dawning comprehension in his eyes. "Just give him some time, Dean. He'll be okay," Dean leaned up to press his lips against mine. The kiss grew less innocent and more heated as Dean moved to my neck, and I let out a moan as his teeth grazed the skin. That's when the phone decided to ring. I let out an annoyed huff, reaching for my phone on the nightstand.
"Hello?" I answered, already knowing who it would be.
"Hey, I'm in my room," Sam told me, and I tried and failed to bite back another frustrated sigh. "I've got the provenances, and you guys might want to see this,"
"We're coming," I grumbled. "Just give us a minute," I hung up and turned to Dean. "Sam got the provenances," Dean grinned at my words.
"That's my boy," I laughed lightly, and pulled the blankets around me as I got up and walked past where my dress lay on the floor to grab my clothes, changing hurriedly. When I turned, Dean was just throwing on his long sleeve grey shirt. It was the one I'd bought him for Christmas after we'd worked a case where he wouldn't stop complaining about how cold it was because he had no long sleeved shirts.
"Want to take a picture?" I realized I'd been looking at Dean longer than I should've.
"Shut up," I pushed him lightly, making him laugh and wrap his arms around my waist. My hands automatically went around his neck as we staggered back a bit until my back hit the wall. "We have to go to Sam's," I reminded him, unable to tear my gaze from his forest green eyes.
"Yeah, we will," He told me distractedly, as if he wasn't paying any attention to what he was saying. "Just… later," His lips claimed mine, and I pulled away slightly, trying to clear my head.
"Dean," The word was more of a plea, for if he kissed me again, I knew I'd melt. He sighed, pecking my lips before releasing me, and we headed towards the door. We made our way to Sam's room and sat on the bed as he held up the provenances.
"So, she just handed the providences over to you?" Dean questioned skeptically as he took out his knife and began honing it with Sam's whetstone.
"Provenances," I corrected him, giving him a look.
"Provenances?" He pronounced slowly, which I thought was adorable.
"Yes," Sam answered sharply before I could speak. "We went back to her place. I got a copy of the papers,"
"And then?" I prompted, hoping for more, but Sam just shrugged.
"And nothing. That's it. I left," He told us, and I hung my head.
"You didn't have to con her or do any special favors or anything like that?" Dean asked, and I raised my eyebrows at him.
"Dean, would you get your mind out of the gutter, please?" Sam was getting annoyed, and he glanced back at us with a frown.
"You know, when this whole thing's done, we could stick around a bit," Dean offered, and my eyes snapped to him. I hadn't told him about Jez yet, and it was constantly in the back of my mind.
"Why?" Sam questioned, shrugging.
"So you could take her out again," Dean answered as if it where obvious, which it really was.
"Sam, it's clear that you're into her, and she's into you. What's the harm in going out again?" I pointed out, trying to persuade him to stay.
"Hey, all right. I think I got something here," I stood and walked over to Sam as Dean flipped closed the whetstone and pocketed his knife. Sam handed me the papers, and I studied them, furrowing my eyebrows.
"Portrait of Isaiah Merchant's family, painted in 1910," I read off the page as I felt Dean come to stand beside me. I glanced at Sam questioningly as I found nothing abnormal about the writings.
"Now compare the names of the owners with Dad's journal," Sam instructed, and Dean moved away from my side to pick up the journal and flip through it until he found the right page. He came back and held it next to the papers in my hands.
"First purchase was in 1912 to a Peter Sims," I read, my eyes flicking to the book Dean was holding, and he pointed to the date of the first entry in the page.
"Peter Sims murdered, 1912," I frowned, flipping through the pages until I found the next owner. Edgar Roche in 1945. "Same think in 1945," Dean confirmed before I could check the journal. I switched pages again, revealing a 1970 owner. "Oh, same thing in 1970,"
"And then stored until it was donated to a charity auction last month, where the Telescas bought it," Sam filled in the blanks for us. "So, what do you think? It's haunted or cursed?"
"Either way, our safest play is to burn it," I reasoned, and Dean nodded in agreement, eyes still studying the book. I was glad I'd changed into skinny jeans. The ride to warehouse only lasted a couple of minutes, and Dean parked a minute or so away from the gate in case there were cameras or something. We jumped the fence with ease, and I knelt by the alarm system, taking a small knife out of my sleeve and using it to unscrew it. I cut through the green wire and blue and sparked them a couple of times before twisting the copper wires together. The alarm beeped from red to green, and I stood, stowing my knife and nodding to the boys. Dean turned the lock he'd picked and opened the door, and I followed Sam inside, turning on the flashlight. We searched for a moment before my beam landed on the portrait that was hanging up.
"Guys," I hissed, earning their attention as I took the stairs two at a time. They came up behind me as I handed the knife to Sam, who shoved the flashlight between his teeth and cut the painting out of it's frame before handing me back the knife and rolling up the cursed portrait. We jumped the gate again and paused once outside. I transferred the flashlight to my left hand before I bit the tip of my black glove lightly and slid it off my right hand as Sam laid out the picture on the sand outside the gate and Dean sprinkled some salt on it. I lit a match and set the damned thing on fire. Somehow, I had a bad feeling about that picture as it disappeared into ash.
"We got a problem. I can't find my wallet," Dean came out of Sam's bathroom after searching for it for a good five minutes. My eyes shot to him, and I stood from where I'd just sat on the bed; I'd already thrown my stuff into the trunk of the Impala.
"How's that my problem?" Sam questioned, a note of amusement in his voice.
"'Cause I think I dropped it in the warehouse last night," I pulled on my jacket as Sam turned to look at his brother incredulously.
"You're kidding, right?" Dean shook his head.
"You're sure it's not in our room?" Another head shake.
"No. I mean, it's got my prints, my I.D. - well my fake I.D. anyway, but we got to get it before somebody else finds it. Come on," Dean was already out the door with the keys before he'd even finished talking. Sam threw his jacket down on the bed in annoyance, and I raised an eyebrow at him.
"Come on, Sam. Everyone makes mistakes," Honestly, I was surprised by his sudden anger. Sam had always had something of a short temper when it came to his family, but never this short. I made a mental note to ask him about it later.
"Not this major," Sam answered as we walked out the door. Well, he was right. Dean didn't make mistakes like that. I hid a grin as I slid into the passenger's seat, and Dean started backing out almost before Sam was fully in the car. It took two minutes to get to the place, and Dean parked in a hurry. "How do you loose your wallet, Dean?" Sam asked as we searched. Dean just threw his hands out to the side in an 'I don't know' gesture. I checked behind some plants and then a few pots, glancing up and then doing a double when I saw Sarah heading towards the stairs. I opened my mouth to warn Sam, but it was too late.
"Hey, guys," She walked towards us with a big smile.
"Sarah. Hey," Sam was closest to her, and Dean and I were farther back.
"What are you doing here?" Sam looked back at Dean and I for help, but Dean just shrugged in response.
"We're leaving town," Sam made up an excuse. "And we wanted to say goodbye,"
"What are you talking about, Sam?" Dean turned to grin at me, before we walked towards Sam and Sarah. "We're sticking around for at least another day or two," He smiled briefly at Sarah before looking back at his brother, and I shot a confused looking Sarah an apologetic look. "Oh, Sam, by the way, I wanted to give you that twenty bucks I owe you," He pulled his wallet out of his back pocket.
"He always forgets," I explained shortly to Sarah, not being able to hide the wide smile as Sam realized we'd set him up.
"Well, we'll leave you two crazy kids alone," He looked at me and smiled widely before looking back at Sam and Sarah. "We got to go do… that thing," He glanced at me for help.
"Yeah, that thing… it's really important," Sarah just shook her head, smiling gratefully at me and making me smile back before I pulled Dean away from them and led him back to the Impala. We stopped trying to hold in our laughter as soon as we were out of earshot, and we leaned on the hood of the Impala in a comfortable silence.
"We should go on a date sometime," I glanced at Dean in surprise, and he turned his head to look at me. "I'm serious. We don't go out enough,"
"Dean, when would we go? There's no time," I pointed out, not being able to suppress the smile that tugged insistently on my lips.
"We'll make time," He shrugged, returning my smile.
"Okay, where would we go?" He opened his mouth to reply when Sam came bursting out of the auction house with such purpose that I jumped.
"It's still there," He told us going over to the passenger's seat without waiting for a reply. "The picture is still in the frame - just like before," My eyebrows furrowed as I got into the back. "I don't understand, guys. We burned the damn thing,"
"Yeah, thank you, captain obvious," Was Dean's sarcastic reply.
"Guys," I stopped whatever snarky comeback Sam had ready. "We to focus on another way to get rid of it," There was silence for a moment.
"Well, um, in almost all the lore about haunted paintings, it's always the painting's subject that haunts them," Sam informed us.
"Okay, so we need to research the painting's subjects," I summarized.
"Right, learn everything there is to know about that creepy-ass family in that creepy-ass painting. What were their names again?" He questioned, and I laughed slightly.
"Isaiah Merchant family," I answered as Dean revved the engine and pulled onto the road. It was a thirty minute drive to the library even with Dean's crazy speeding.
"You said the Isaiah Merchant family, right?" The librarian double checked as he set two massive books down at our table. I nodded in response as Dean flipped through a book, and Sam shoved his hands in his pockets, regarding the two books. "I dug up every scrap of local history I could find," He opened the book, flipping through it. "So, are you three crime buffs?"
"Kind of," Dean sat on the table as he responded ambiguously. "Why do you ask?"
"Well…" He held up a beige paper that had to be at least a hundred years old. My eyes were drawn to the headline about the Titanic, and I frowned in confusion until the man pointed to a smaller column on the side. FATHER SLAUGHTERS FAMILY, KILLS SELF.
"Yes, yeah, that sounds about right," My lips twitched at Dean's words, but I focused on the case.
"He killed everyone?" I checked, and the man nodded.
"It seems like this Isaiah, he slits his kids' throats, the his wife, then himself. Now, he was a barber by trade. Used a straight razor," I frowned again at the unsettled feeling in my stomach.
"Why'd he do it?" Sam asked as I tried to get a handle on the feeling.
"Well, let's look. Uh, 'People who knew him, described Isaiah as having a stern and harsh temperament, and controlled his family with an iron fist'. Wife, two sons, adopted daughter - yeah, yeah, there were whispers that the wife was gonna take the kids and leave, which, of course, you know, in that day and age… So instead, old man Isaiah, well, he gave them all a shave," I swallowed my disgust at the ill humored joke as Dean chuckled and I gave him a look that cut off his chuckle.
"Does it say what happened to the bodies?" Dean questioned, and the old librarian looked down at the article and then back up at us.
"Just that they were all cremated," He informed us causing Dean and I to exchange a meaningful glance.
"Anything else?" Sam asked, obviously eager to get out of the library.
"Yeah, actually, I found a picture of the family," He rummaged through the different books, flustered. "It's right here, somewhere. Right. Here it is," He flipped the book so we could see, but something was off about it.
"Could we get a copy, do you think?" I asked him, smiling kindly.
"Sure," He answered, bustling off to make a copy of it for us. The copy was done in a minute, and we headed back to the motel, seeing as it was getting dark out.
2 hours later
"I'm telling you, guys. The painting at the auction house, dad is looking down, painting here, dad is looking out," Sam turned the copy to face Dean, who was sitting across from him while I sat between them around the table. "The painting has changed," We were in Sam's room now since Sam had checked us out when he'd thought we were leaving. It was a good thing they didn't have any rooms with kings left.
"I agree," I nodded. "Something is different about that one than the one in the auction house, and if Sam says it's the dad, then I believe him," Sam gave me a grateful look, and Dean studied me for a moment and then Sam and then finally let out a sigh of resignation.
"So you think daddy dearest is trapped in the painting, and he's handing out columbian neckties like he did with his family," Dean summed up, and I shrugged.
"Well, yeah, it seems like it," Sam replied for both of us.
"Wait, but if he was cremated, then how do we know how to kill him?" I brought up the main question.
"All right, well, if Isaiah's position changed then maybe some other thing's in the painting changed, as well. You know, it could give us some clues," Dean reasoned logically, holding up the picture.
"What, like a 'da vinci code' deal?" Sam asked, and Dean shifted.
"I don't know," He admitted. "I'm still waiting for the movie on that one," Sam turned to me with a comical look of appallment on his face.
"Yeah, like the da vinci code," I answered him, grinning.
"Anyway, we got to get back in and see that painting," Dean announced, rising from where he was sitting on the chair. "Which is a good thing, because you can get more time to crush on your girlfriend," He added as he laid down on the surprisingly comfortable bed.
"Dude… enough already," Sam told him in annoyance, glancing at me, but I just put my head in my hands, exhausted from their constant arguing.
"What?" Dean asked innocently.
"'What?' Ever since we got here, you two have been trying to pimp me out to Sarah. Just back off, all right?" Sam snapped in frustration.
"Well, you like her, don't you?" Dean questioned, and I could see on Sam's face that he did a bit. "All right, you like her. She likes you. You're both consenting adults," Sam rolled his eyes and shook his head.
"What's the point? We'll just leave. We always leave," He exploded, and I looked up at him from where I was massaging my temples.
"Look, Sam, we aren't talking about marrying her-" I started, trying to calm his rising anger.
"I don't get it. What do you two care if I hook up?" He snapped at us, and I flinched back in surprise, feeling my own anger start to bubble up.
"So maybe you wouldn't be so cranky all the time," As usual, Dean said exactly the right thing at exactly the right time and my anger dissipated into a laugh as Sam scoffed. Suddenly, I realized I'd left my bag in the car, and I stood.
"I'll get my duffel," I shot Dean a meaningful look as I walked out the door. As much as I knew I shouldn't, I couldn't help listening in to hear what Dean was saying to Sam.
"Seriously, Sam, this isn't about just hooking up, okay? I mean, I think that this Sarah girl could be good for you," I smiled slightly at Dean as he talked earnestly to his brother. "And I don't mean any disrespect, but I'm - I'm sure that this is about Jessica, right?" I could hear Sam freeze, and then a shift as he turned fully to face his brother. "Now, I don't know what it's like to lose somebody like that… but I almost found out," I could hear Sam's sharp breath at Dean's words. "And, if it were Mel… I'd be pretty messed up, too, but…" I heard Dean swallow hard before continuing. "… But I would think that she would want me to be happy. And I think that Jess would want you to be happy. God forbid, have fun once in a while. Wouldn't she?" I got my bag from the trunk, still listening for Sam's response.
"Yeah, I know she would," He agreed, and I let out the breath I'd been holding. "Yeah, you're right. Part of this is about Jessica, but not the main part," I froze with my hand on the trunk to slam it closed.
"What's it about?" Dean asked. Sam didn't respond, and I frowned. "Yeah, all right. Well, we still got to see that painting, which means you still got to call Sarah," I slammed the trunk closed as I heard Sam dialing the numbers. I walked in and dropped my stuff at the foot of Dean's bed, laying next to him as Sam stuttered into the phone.
"Smooth," Dean whisper yelled to him, and I hit him on the chest lightly but couldn't quite hold in a small laugh.
"Hey, so, me, my brother, and Mel were thinking we'd like to come in and look at that painting again. I think maybe we are interested in buying it," His face suddenly changed. "Wait, what?" I sat up. "Who'd you sell it to?" I stood as Sam looked right at me, eyes wide. "Sarah, I need an address right now," Sam hung up, and Dean and I were already out the door. It took us ten minutes to get to the old woman's house, and when we got there there was already a familiar dark blue car that was parked in front of the house. We got out quickly, and Sarah met us halfway to the house.
"Sam, what's going on?" She demanded.
"I told you you shouldn't have come," Was all Sam answered as we ran up the concrete steps to the house that was glowing with light. I reached the door first and pounded on it.
"Hey! Are you there?" I yelled, hoping that the woman was still alive. "Sam check the windows," I ordered him.
"Anybody home?" Dean shouted, but there was no response. Dean turned to me, "Move," I obediently got out of his way as he tried to kick the door down.
"You said Evelyn might be in danger. What kind of danger?" Sarah asked Sam as I slid a bobby pin from my hair.
"Move. You can't break it down; I need to pick it," I told Dean, and he got out of the way as I knelt next to the lock.
"What are you guys? Burglars?" Sarah asked me as I worked furiously on the lock and Sam banged on the windows. What worried me more than anything was the deafening silence issuing from inside.
"I wish it was that simple," Sam told her cryptically as she went over to him and he abandoned the window. "Look, you really should wait in the car," I got the lock and turned the knob, pushing my way inside before stopping cold.
"The hell I will, Evelyn's a friend," I heard Sam, Dean, and Sarah come up beside me to face the old woman sitting in the chair.
"Evelyn?" I forced myself to approach the woman with the rest of them. Dean glanced at me, and I just shook my head. The woman was already dead. I attempted to focus on the painting; the man's eyes were looking down at his daughter, whom his hand was resting on. "Evelyn? It's me, Sarah Blake,"
"Sarah, no!" I yelled just as she touched the woman and her head tilted back, exposing her slit throat. Sarah began to scream.
There was an insistent knock on the door, and Sam got up to answer it, revealing an agitated Sarah, who didn't wait for an invitation before brushing past Sam and into the motel room.
"Hey," He greeted her softly. "You all right?" She turned to face him, giving him a look.
"No, actually. I just lied to the cops and told them I went to Evelyn's alone and found her like that," Sam nodded, clearly trying to hide his relief at her lie.
"Thank you," He told her, but she shook her head.
"Don't thank me. I'm about to call them right back if you don't tell me what the hell is going on," She threatened, and I raised my eyebrows, glancing at Dean, who didn't look the least bit concerned. "Who's killing these people?" Sam looked questioningly at us, and I sighed, nodding for him to go ahead. She'd probably find out either way.
"'What'," He told her quietly, and she frowned in uncertainty.
"What?" She echoed, uncomprehendingly.
"It's not 'who'. It's 'what'' is killing those people. Sarah, you saw that painting move," She just let out a chuckle and turned away, shaking her head. This happened to all the people we told. First step, denial.
"No, no, I was - I was seeing things. It's impossible," She stammered, pacing.
"Yeah, well, welcome to our world," Dean gave her a grin, and she looked at him and then at me incredulously.
"Look, this sounds insane to you… we get that, but we think the painting's haunted," She just stared at me as I spoke and then turned away with a smile. Step two, you can't be serious.
"You're joking," She stared at us, and I just raised my eyebrows at her. "You're not joking. God, the guys I go out with,"
"Sarah, think about it," Sam begged her. "Evelyn, the Telescas - they both had the painting, and their have been others before that. Wherever this thing goes, people die, and we're just trying to stop it… and that's the truth,"
"Well, then, I guess you'd better show me," She walked around Sam confidently. "I'm coming with you,"
"What? No," Sam immediately disagreed. "Sarah, no. You should just go home. This stuff can get dangerous, and…" He trailed off, glancing past her at me for a moment before back. "And I don't want you to get hurt,"
"Look, you guys are probably crazy, but if you're right about this, when me and my dad sold that painting, we might have got these people killed. Look I'm not saying I'm not scared as hell 'cause I am scared as hell, but I'm not gonna run and hide either," She opened the door and stood halfway out of it. "So, are we going or what?" She left the door open as she walked out.
"Sam…" Dean looked directly at Sam as he pointed to where Sarah had walked out the door. "Marry that girl," I laughed at Sam's sheepish face as he walked out the door.
-3rd person-
"Uh… isn't this a crime scene?" Sarah stated the obvious as Mel picked the lock. Sam's mouth twitched at her uneasy comment.
"If we had a hundred dollars for every time we heard that…" The lock clicked open as Mel finished, pushing open the door. "We'd be billionaires," Sam let out a half laugh as they made their way into the house. Sam took down the painting and set it against the chair with the bloodstain on it, leaning in to see if he could deduce anything.
"Aren't you worried that it's gonna, you know, kill us?" Sarah questioned nervously, looking to Mel for an answer. As much as Sam tried to focus, his attention drifted away from the painting and to the two girls standing behind him.
"Usually these things stick to a pattern. This one seems to only kill at night," Mel replied easily. Mel was taller than Sarah, only by an inch or so, but still taller. She was more sarcastic and joking while Sarah used jokes to broach serious subjects. I mean, Sam had only been with her for one dinner, and already she'd brought up Jess' and his mom's memories.
"Guys, check it out," Mel turned to Dean as he showed her and Sam the picture he held in his hand. "The razor - it's closed in this one, but it's open in that one,"
"What're you guys looking for?" Sarah asked, and Sam glanced at her.
"Well, if the spirit's changing aspects of the painting, maybe it's doing so for a reason," Dean explained to her, and she nodded.
"Hey, wait, what about that?" Mel came up on Sam's side, pointing to the picture in the painting, and he tried to ignore how sweet she smelled. "The painting there. It looks like some sort of crypt or something," Dean came up on her other side and raised the ashtray, using it as a magnifying glass.
"Merchant," He muttered, speaking the name aloud before setting down the ashtray.
"We check the graveyards then?" Mel offered, shrugging, and Dean and Sam nodded in agreement. Two hours later, they still had jack squat, and they were starting to get agitated.
"This is the third boneyard we've checked. This ghost is jerking us around," Dean told them frustratedly, and Mel gave his hand a small squeeze, which calmed him down. Sam couldn't help feeling slightly jealous, seeing the gesture. When he was younger, he'd always marveled at how someone could like Dean the way Mel did after knowing him, but there was no doubt in his mind that she loved Dean. Just like there was no doubt that Dean loved her. If Dean lost her it would be worse than when he lost Jess. Sam knew that even though he could scarcely fathom how anything could be worse than what he'd went through. The pain. The anger. He'd seen all of that in Dean's eyes when he'd talked about almost loosing Mel. "So, this is what you guys do for a living?" Sarah questioned, and Sam couldn't help comparing her to Mel even though he knew it was unfair. Though they both had hazel eyes, Sarah's were more green, while Mel had a more visible tint of brown in them. They dressed similarly, although Mel tended towards darker colors while Sarah was dressed in light blue.
"Not exactly," He answered, trying to shake the thoughts from his head. "We don't get paid,"
"Well, mazel ton," Sam laughed quietly at her while Mel pulled Dean to a stop and pointed towards an old, decrepit structure.
"That it?" She asked, glancing back at Sam and Sarah before looking back at Dean.
"Yeah, looks like," Dean and Mel led the way while Sam and Sarah followed. He took out the cutters and cut the chain in front of the door, pushing it open so the rest of them could walk in. Sam watched Mel and Dean walk over to the stone slabs with the family's names spelled out on them. He briefly wished he had something like that, but he shook off the thought and turned to Sarah, who was looking at the glass that was cemented into the wall.
"Okay, that right there is the creepiest thing I've ever seen," Sarah announced, and Mel, Dean and Sam all walked over to her, looking at the doll behind the glass.
"Wish I could agree with you," Mel shot her a small smile at the all too true statement.
"It was sort of a tradition at the time. Whenever a child died, sometimes they'd preserve the kid's favorite toy in a glass case to the headstone in the crypt," Dean looked around, frowning as the wind blew particularly strongly.
"Notice anything strange here?" He questioned the others as he did the math in his head.
"Uh, where do I start?" Sarah asked rhetorically, and Sam grinned at her joke.
"No, that's not what I mean. Look at the urns," Mel frowned as she caught on to what her boyfriend was getting at.
"There are four, so where's the fifth?" Mel asked the real question, and Dean nodded in agreement.
"Exactly. Mom and the three kids - daddy dearest isn't here," Dean finished, knowing where they needed to go next. The police station was just a short drive away.
-1st Person-
"So, you do this often?" Sarah asked me shakily as she held the flashlight stiffly, pointing it down to where the boys were digging up what was left of Isaiah Merchant.
"Not that much," I glanced at her before finishing. "Sometimes I dig," She turned wide eyes on me, and I heard both boys laughter from where they were shoveling dirt. My smile dropped as I took in her petrified face. "Hey, relax," I put a comforting hand on her shoulder, and she offered me a tight smile. "It'll be over soon. See, they're already done digging," I offered Sam a hand up, which would've landed me in the pit with the boys if Sarah hadn't grabbed Sam's other hand.
"You three seem to be uncomfortably comfortable with this," She noted, and I was glad the darkness hid my smile.
"Well, like Mel said, this isn't exactly the first grave we dug," Sam told her. "Still think I'm a catch?" I laughed, and even Sarah smiled slightly.
"Hey, I think I got something," Dean called, and I shined my flashlight onto the wooden box he was standing on. He jammed the edge of the shovel into the wood and jerked, causing it to crack and reveal a skeleton. He handed me his shovel and pulled himself out of the hole before pouring salt into the hole while I poured gasoline. The four of us stood at the edge of the grave as Dean held out the matches. "You've been a real pain in the ass, Isaiah. Good riddance," I laughed softly at his words as he threw the matches onto the body, and it went up in flames. We got back into the car, deciding to pick up the painting from where we'd left it at Evelyn's house.
"Keep the motor running," Sam instructed as he opened the door.
"I thought the painting was harmless now?" Sarah questioned from beside him as he got out, glancing back at her.
"Better safe than sorry. We're going to bury the sucker," Was the only reassurance he gave.
"I want to come with you," She decided, getting out as well.
"Are you sure?" Sam questioned, but she was already walking past him.
"Hey, hey, hey," Sam leaned towards Dean as he whispered. "We'll stay here. You go make your move," Sam scoffed and rolled his eyes, slamming the door. "Sam, I'm serious," Dean called after him as I frowned, getting a bad feeling as Sam and Sarah walked towards the house. Dean turned the music on loudly, which made me smile despite everything. Sam turned back to look at us with a withering look. I reached over and shut off the music, flashing a thumbs up to Sam, who mouthed 'thank you'.
"Come on, Mel…" He trailed off when he saw my face. "What?"
"Dean, I think something's wrong," I heard manacle laughter from inside. Little girl's laughter. I opened the door frantically and only reached the first step when the door slammed shut. I ran up the steps in record time and jiggled the door knob to no avail. Dean slammed his shoulder into the door, but it didn't' help.
"Dean! Mel! Is that you?" I heard Sam's muffled yells from inside.
"Sammy, are you alright?!" Dean demanded urgently at the same time I yelled, "Sammy, what's in there?" Instead of answering, Dean's phone rang, and he rushed to pick it up.
"Tell me you slammed the front door," Dean begged his brother as he pressed the speaker to his ear.
No, it wasn't me. I think it was the little girl.
"Girl? What girl?" Dean questioned.
"The one from the painting, right?" I asked as Dean put the phone on speaker, so I could hear properly.
"Yeah, I think it might've been her all along," Dean nodded as it all started to make sense.
"Wasn't the dad looking down at her?" He remembered as I knelt by the lock, my nimble fingers desperately trying to open the door.
"Yeah, he was probably trying to warn us," I mused as it all pieced together.
"Hey, let's recap later, alright. Just get us out of here," Sam urged us, his voice strained with worry and fear.
"Door won't open. I'm trying to pick it," I informed him.
"Well, break it down," Sam ordered, and I glared at the door.
"Okay, genius let us grab our battering ram!" Dean snapped back.
"Guys! The damn thing's coming!" Sam yelled into the phone as I stood, my eyes darting around helplessly.
"Sam, you're going to have to stall it," I told him. "I think I have a plan," I lied, wincing as I told it.
"You think?" Sam repeated incredulously.
"There should be some iron or salt in the house," I ignored his criticism, and heard the sounds of him rummaging through the cabinets for a moment.
"There's no salt. What kind of house doesn't have salt?" I heard him yelling to Sarah for a moment before he came back on. "Uh, guys, give me a sec. Don't go anywhere," I turned to Dean as Sam's voice ceased.
"There has to be something she's attached too. Something we can destroy," I squeezed my eyes shut as I tried to think, which was impossible with all the yelling coming from inside the house.
"Yeah, I know, but what?" Dean called back as he checked the windows to the building. Suddenly, everything went quiet, and Dean lifted the phone again, almost afraid to speak. "Sam, you okay?"
"Yeah, for now," I breathed a sigh as his voice came across clearly.
"How're we gonna waste her?" Dean questioned, hoping Sam had some idea.
"I don't know. She was already cremated. There's nothing left to burn," He told us, and I racked my brain for the answer.
"How does she even exist then?" I asked, and then I got it. "Dean, get in the car," He didn't even hesitate before running down the steps and ripping open the driver's seat door. I slammed the passenger's shut behind me as Sam began speaking into the phone again.
"Guys, Sarah says the doll might have the girl's hair. Human remains - same as bones," I put on my seat belt as the three of us spoke the same two words at the same time. "The Mausoleum,"
Dean busted through the gate going at least a hundred miles an hour until he reached the Mausoleum and then stopped short, nearly throwing me into the dashboard. I barely noticed, for I was already unbuckling myself and sprinting towards the crypt, yanking open the doors and going inside to see the doll behind the glass. Dean bashed the glass with the hilt of his gun, and I furrowed my eyebrows.
"Dean, just use the gun," He glanced at me and then at the gun in his hands and looked almost embarrassed for a split second before bracing the back of the weapon against his hand and firing. He smashed the rest of the glass with his gun, and I grabbed the doll out of the hole in the concrete. Dean clicked the lighter a couple times, getting only sparks. "Dean!" I snapped, scared for Sam's life.
"I got it!" He lit the lighter and held it under the girl's hair, turning it bright orange and yellow. Dean got out the phone and dialed Sam's number with shaking fingers. "Sam, you good?"
Not bad. I let out a breath, my entire body relaxing as Dean shut the phone. I buried my face into his shoulder and his arms went around me securely, keeping me safe.
"This was archived in the county records," Dean and I came up beside Sarah as the man packed up the portrait of the family. "The Merchant's adoptive daughter, Melanie. Know why she was up for adoption? 'Cause her real family was murdered in their beds,"
"She killed them?" Sarah asked in shock.
"Yeah, no one would suspect her, right?" I pointed out, shrugging. "Just an average, innocent, little girl,"
"So then she kills Isaiah and his family. The old man takes the blame. His spirit's been trying to warn people ever since," Dean explained, piecing everything together.
"Where's this one go?" The worker asked Sarah.
"Take it out back and burn it," I laughed at the worker's startled face. "I'm serious, guys. Thanks," The two wheeled the large wooden crate away. "So, why'd the girl do it?" She questioned, turning back to us.
"Killing others, killing herself - some people are just born tortured, so when they die their spirits are just as dark," Sam elaborated for her, and I shrugged.
"Maybe. I don't really care. It's over. We move on," Dean told us unfeelingly as he sent a smile my way.
"Uh… I guess this means you're leaving," She looked down and then back up at Sam, who looked pointedly at us.
"We'll go wait in the car," I announced, turning to Sarah with a smile. "Goodbye," She hugged me, laughing. "And, for future reference, you really shouldn't give rides to strange women on the side of the road," She laughed lightly.
"I'll try to remember that," Dean wrapped an arm around my waist as I stepped back, and he raised his hand in a goodbye.
"See you, Sarah," We turned and walked out of the auction house and to the car. We leaned on the back of the Impala comfortably as I rested my head on Dean's shoulder.
"It's never going to be you," I raised my head from Dean's shoulder to look at him in confusion. "What happened to Jess - it won't happen to you," Confidence glimmered in his eyes, and I bit the inside of my cheek.
"How can you be so sure?" I asked, wishing I shared his certainty.
"Because you have me," He answered simply, and a small smile made it's way across my lips as I tilted my face up to kiss Dean slowly. He pulled away and rested his forehead against mine, his hand cupping my cheek. "As long as I'm here nothing bad will ever happen to you," His lips lowered to mine again, and I kissed him with everything I had. We pulled apart as the doors opened to reveal Sam leaving while Sarah shut the doors behind him. "I guess you were right. He just needs time," Dean muttered in annoyance as we went around to the front of the Impala and got into the passenger's and driver's seats.
"No," I replied as I shut my door, and I clicked the lock button. Sam tried to get into the back before abandoning the door and going to my window.
"It's locked," He informed me.
"Is it?" I asked innocently, raising an eyebrow as Dean began laughing.
"Mel, how old are you, fifteen? Open the door," Sam grew annoyed.
"Not until you admit you liked her and that you wanted to kiss her," I told him, leaving no room for arguing.
"Mel-" I crossed my arms over my chest and gave him a look. "Fine, I wanted to kiss her, but we're leaving. It won't do any good! What's the point?" He snapped, and I sighed.
"Sam, there's always a point. You don't want to live with regrets your whole life," He hesitated before finally he nodded, and I could see in his eyes that he knew I was right. He walked back to the door and knocked on it. It opened to reveal Sarah, and Sam wasted no time in grabbing her face and kissing her. I smiled as Dean and I got out to watch the scene unfold.
"That's my boy," Dean smiled fondly before we got back into the car, and I couldn't help but wonder how many of these happy moments we had left before the apprehension that was growing inside of me engulfed us.
