Provenance

"Reality TV scouts, looking for people with special skills." Dean grinned excited. "Hey, it's not that far off, right?" Well I don't what we were looking for was even on that girls radar. "And that girl I was talking to," he stopped to glare at me and I whistled innocently. "She's got a friend over there."

Sam scowled annoyed. "No thanks, I can get my own dates." And yet he never tried, I pulled out one of my spare suckers and stuck it in my mouth to nibble on.

"Yeah you can, but you don't." Dean scowled, because it was time to move on from Jess; it's been nine months after all.

"Please tell me you've noticed the looks." I begged, already seeing multiple girls checking out my little brother.

"What looks?" Sam asked dumbly, looking up from his research. I groaned, dropping my head on my arms crossed over the table.

Dean shook his head, taking a sip of his beer. "What you got?" He let the matter die. At least for now, before Dean and I came up with plans to get Sam back into the saddle of dating.

Sam showed us the article. "Mark and Ann Telesca of New Paltz, New York were both found dead in their own home a few days ago." I finally raised my head to pay attention, still sucking on my candy. "Throats were slit." I shivered, imaging a cold steel blade slicing across my own throat and me chocking to death on my own blood. "There were no prints, no murder weapons, all..."

I noticed Dean wasn't paying attention, to busy checking out the local girls. "Pay attention!" I snapped, hitting his arm.

He snapped to attention and Sam rolled his eyes before continuing on. "No prints, no murder weapons, all doors and windows locked from the inside."

Dean took a long sip of his beer. "Could just be a garden variety murder, not our department."

"No, dad says different." Sam said calmly. The whole conversation seemed to change the whole atmosphere around our little threesome.

"Say what now?" I demanded, dad always being the awkward conversation starter for everyone in this family.

Sam pointed at a spot on a map in dad's journal. "Dad noted three murders in the same area of upstate New York." Of course dad would be the one to notice what most others probably never would. "First one here in 1912, then 1945 and the third in 1970, the same MO as the Telescas." But what did all those times and places have in common, why attack then and now? "Their throats were slit, doors were locked from the inside." So much for good security. "Now so much time has passed between murderers that nobody checked the pattern, except dad." Only dad would think to see if they're was a pattern like that. " He kept his eyes peeled for another one."

"And now we got one." Dean said. "It's worth checking out." When wasn't something worth it? "We can't pick this up till first thing though." And then Dean ran off to find another lady I hadn't already talked to.

"Dean Winchester, gentlemen." I stated, voice muffled through my candy as Dean snickered.

It was very earlier morning and I was running a brush through my hair, sitting in the back of the impala. I yawned loudly, dropping my brush, beadily looking at Dean who was leaning over in the front seat fast asleep with sunglasses on to muffle the morning light. Sam was checking out the house of the people who died and I could see him just coming round the car. I barely had time to cover my ears as Sam purposely hit the horn. Dean jolted awake and I smirked as Sam climbed into the driver's seat laughing.

Dean adjusted his sunglasses and muttered sleepily, "Man, that is so not cool."

"Cooler than being shoved off the bed this morning." I muttered, rotating my shoulders from where I landed on it.

"I just swept the Telescas with EMF, it's clean." Sam explained. "And last night while Chris was making a candy run." I grinned, remembering my new stash of chocolates now hidden in the bottom of my bag. Sam side glanced at Dean. "And while you were...out," Dean hadn't gotten back till like three this morning.

Dean smirked to himself, remembering last night. "Good times." I wrinkled my nose in disgust at his implications before giving up on my hair and just yanking it into a ponytail.

"I checked the history of the house." Sam continued on with his explanation.

"And let me guess, nothing." It would never be that easy for our little group. Sam nodded in agreement.

"So if it's not the people and it's not the house, then maybe it's the contents." Dean suggested. "Cursed object or something."

Sam shook his head, "The house is clean."

"Yeah, I know, you said that." Dean said annoyed.

I leaned to the edge of my seat in the back. "So there's probably something still in there causing people to die.

"No; I mean it's empty." Sam said more firmly. "No furniture, nothing."

Dean and I stared at him confused, the couple had only died a week ago and they're stuff was already gone? "Where's all there stuff?"

Later that day, I whistled because the entire auction house was filled with highly expensive looking cars. Probably more than I could afford if I never spent a dime saving up my entire life. All these fancy cars and here was our dusty impala parked in the middle. Inside was even worse, with classical music playing and men wearing tuxes while women were fancy high class dresses and pearls. And here was I in holed jeans, thick jacket and torn at the bottom blood red tank top. Not that Sam or Dean was any better. Dean started grabbing finger foods from a nearby tray at a table.

I couldn't help but join him, taking a large bite out of one of those mini sandwiches.