A/N: The reason this chapter took so long is because I have a lot of my own content in this chapter. So I'm even more nervous to post it and read your reviews but I'm excited about it at the same time. Let me know what you think and thank you for being so patient (:
Disclaimer: I only created Allie.
Episode: Provenance
For the past couple of weeks both Sam and Dean have been acting weird around me. Dean's been giving me the cold shoulder and Sam tries to avoid all kind of eye contact with me, but in a nervous kind of way – not a mean way.
Sam's been looking into Dad's journal to find another hunt, which is odd because Sam is usually more interested in finding Mom's killer than a regular salt and burn. Dean made us stop at a bar on our journey to another random state until Sam finds a hunt. So while Sam ignores me as he flips through Dad's journal, and Dean tries hitting up two broads at the bar, I'm sitting in silence nursing a beer.
"Did you find anything?" I ask in a sigh. I'm getting frustrated that both of my brothers are being weird to me and every time I try to bring it up, they avoid the conversation and change the subject. Sometimes Dean will just walk away. It's getting really annoying.
"Yeah, yeah I think so," Sam says. He has papers spread over our high top table, all mention murders in New York. He looks over in Dean's direction and waves him over. Dean holds up his finger to tell him to wait, but Sam keeps motioning him over here.
Dean rolls his eyes, whispering something in the ladies' ears and approaches us with two beers.
"All right, I think we got something," Sam says as Dean takes a seat.
Dean smirks and glances back at the bar, "Oh yeah, me too. I think we need to take a little shore leave, just a little bit. What do you think, huh? I'm so in the door with this one."
"So what are we today Dean? I mean, are we rock stars, are we army rangers?"
Dean grins, "Reality TV scouts, looking for people with special skills. I mean hey, it's not that far off right? By the way, she's got a friend over there. Possibly hook you up. What do you think?"
I roll my eyes at Dean's ways to con girls into sleeping with him. However, Sam laughs at him and shakes his head.
"Dean, no thanks. I can get my own dates."
"Yeah you can but you don't." Dean retorts.
"What is that supposed to mean?" Sam asks, taking it slightly offensively.
I try to discreetly shake my head at Dean to stop where he was going with this. Both of us knew the reason Sam was so hesitant to talk to any girl was because of Jessica. And although I agree Sam needs to try and move on because it isn't healthy to hold this guilty feeling inside, but now wasn't the time to have a therapy session.
Dean sees me shake my head and sighs. "Nothing. What you got?"
"Mark and Ann Telesca of New Paltz, New York were both found dead in their own home a few days ago. Throats were slit. There were no prints, no murder weapons, all..."
Sam trails off when he notices Dean isn't paying attention and is rather checking out the girls he was talking to at the bar.
"Dean!" Sam says loudly, gaining back Dean's attention. "No prints, no murder weapons, all doors and window locked from the inside."
Dean sips at his beer, "Could just been a garden variety murder you know, not our department."
"No. Dad says different." Sam shakes his head.
"What do you mean?" I ask.
Sam points to a map and then Dad's journal. "Dad noted three murders in the same area of upstate New York. First one here in 1912, second one right here in 1945, and the third in 1970, the Same M.O. as the Telescas. Their throats were slit, doors were locked from the inside. Now so much time had passed between murders that nobody checked the pattern, except Dad. He kept his eyes peeled for another one."
"And now we got one. All right, I'm with ya. It's worth checking out. We can't pick this up til first thing though right?" Dean asks, looking hopeful.
"Yeah." Sam says slowly.
Dean smirks to himself and starts heading back to the bar, "Good."
"Dean…"
Dean ignores him and saunters off to the bar and continues his conversation with the blondes. Sam snickers, but I can only watch him with a glum feeling.
The next morning, Dean was so tired from his over night festivities, that he stayed in the car while Sam and I snuck off to the Telescas's house to check out the scene of the murder. However when we got there, the place was completely empty. Literally nothing, as if no one had ever lived there.
Sam walked through with the EMF detector, but even that didn't pick up anything.
So we walked back to the impala in silence. Dean was passed out in the drivers seat with his sunglasses on. Sam stops me from opening the back door and presses his finger against his lips.
Sam leans in through the open window and slams on the horn. Dean jumps a couple inches in the air, ready to attack whatever it was that was "attacking" him, but when he saw it was just us, he glared.
He adjusts his sunglasses, "Man, that is so not cool."
"I just swept the Telescas with the EMF. It's clean. And last night, while you were…well…out…"
Dean smirks at the memory, "Good times."
I scoff.
"I checked the history of the house. Nothing strange about the Telescas."
"All right, so if it's not the people and it's not the house, then maybe it's the contents. Cursed object or something."
"The house is clean," I say.
"Yeah I know, Sam said that," Dean scoffs, barely looking back at me.
I try not to take it personal but how can I not at this point?
"No, I mean it's empty, you moron. No furniture, nothing."
This time, I get Dean's attention and he cocks an eyebrow at me and Sam. "Where's all their stuff?"
"An Auction house," I smirk.
Dean and I hate auction houses because we look at it as rich people getting even more rich by selling other people's stuff. Sure there's more that actually goes into it, but we pretty much get the point.
Dean rolls his eyes and motions for us to get in the car. Sam tells him the address and we drive off.
I knew as soon as we pulled into the parking lot the three of us were going to be out of place. Every car here is expensive, polished, and beautifully painted with all kinds of colors.
When we walk inside, how I was feeling is confirmed. The people here are beautifully dressed in suits and dresses. Sam, Dean, and I are in our usual getups which is dirty casual jeans, shirts, boots, and jackets.
Caterers walk around with trays of food, which Dean greedily takes and stuffs in his mouth without any class whatsoever. So even if we didn't look the part, thanks to Dean we certainly didn't act the part either.
"Consignment auctions, estate sales. Looks like a garage sale for Wasps if you ask me." Dean shakes his head as he looks around.
The auction house is set up with all kinds of paintings, statues, furniture, you name it. Everything you find in a rich person's home is here for sale, and nothing is cheap.
Dean swipes more food off of another man's tray and saunters over to a painting.
"Can I help you gentlemen?" An older man walks over to us and plasters a forced grin on his lips. The second I look at him I know he's the man behind this entire auction house and that he did not like us being here. "And miss." He says, barely looking at me.
Dean looks the older man up and down and stuffs even more food in his mouth, "I'd like some champagne please," he says in a fake posh voice.
"He's not a waiter," Sam says sharply to Dean.
I roll my eyes to myself and question how Sam and I are actually related to this guy. At least Sam anyway.
Dean cocks an eyebrow, not caring at all.
Sam holds out his hand to get rid of some of the tension, "I'm Sam Connors." The man just looks at my brother, glances down at his hand but doesn't move to shake it. This guy is one arrogant dickhead, let me tell you. Sam awkwardly pulls his hand back and points to Dean and I.
"This is my brother, Dean and sister, Allie. We're art dealers with Connors Limited."
"You…art dealers." The man looks at us suspiciously.
"That's right." Sam says.
"I'm Daniel Blake, this is my auction house. Now gentlemen this is a private showing, and I don't remember seeing you on the guest list."
"We're there Chuckles, you just need to take another look." Dean says, once again, without even flinching. What the hell is up his ass recently?
Another waiter walks by, this one holding glasses of champagne on his tray. Dean swiftly takes a glass, "Oh. Finally."
Mr. Blake gives Dean a dirty looks as my older brother walks away. I awkwardly follow Dean and Sam follows right behind.
We follow Dean to a painting of a family dated back a couple of hundreds of years. In my opinion, the painting is really creepy and I wouldn't recommend it for anyone's home.
"A fine example of American Primitive wouldn't you say?" A woman says behind us.
The three of us turn around and find a woman about my age walk down the stairs of the auction house in an elegant black dress and diamond necklace. Her hair is pulled back in a classy low bun and her makeup is beautifully applied in a natural look. You would of thought this girl was going to prom.
Sam looks back at the painting and by the look on his face I can tell he's thinking of something. Dean on the other hand is shamelessly ogling this girl.
"Well I'd say it's more Grant Wood than Grandma Moses." Sam smirks. "But you knew that, you just wanted to see if I did."
The woman grimaces, "Guilty. And clumsy. I apologize. I'm Sarah Blake."
"I'm Sam. This is my…" Sam trails off when he sees Dean's cheeks puffed out because of all the food he's stuffing in there. "…brother Dean and sister Allie."
"Dean," Sarah grins. "Can we get you some more mini-quiche?"
"I'm good," Dean chews. "Thanks."
"You're such an idiot," I say under my breath. Dean passes me this glare, but from the past couple of days, I'm used to it.
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.
"The whole thing's pretty grisly if you ask me, selling your things this soon. But Dad's right about one thing, sensationalism brings out the crowds. Even the rich ones."
"Is it possible to see the provenances?" he asks.
"I'm afraid there isn't any chance of that." The old Mr. Blake says as he approaches us from behind.
"Why not?" I ask with a little more attitude than necessary. Okay, maybe I was more like Dean than I thought I was.
"You're not on the guest list," He says. "And I think it's time to leave."
Dean puts on is posh voice one more time, "Well we don't have to be told twice."
"Apparently you do." Mr. Blake retaliates.
"Okay. It's all right." Sam says, easing the tension. "We don't want any trouble. We'll go."
Dean raises his eyebrows and walks away. I watch Sam and Sarah exchange looks before I walked out with Sam. Hm, maybe there's something there.
SAM'S POV:
"Grant Wood, Grandma Moses?" Dean questions me as we pull into the nearest motel's parking lot.
"Art history course. It's good for meeting girls."
Dean shakes his head, "It's like I don't even know you anymore."
The three of us hop out of the car. Before we walk to our room, Dean holds out his arm to stop Allie.
"What's up?" She asks him.
Dean's been giving Allie the cold shoulder for weeks now. I immediately knew Dean found out about Allie hiding her relationship with Chris from him the second he called someone from her phone. His facial expression showed everything that night. I tried to ask him about it, but he never wants to talk about it and I don't want to go against Allie and ask, "Hey did you find out about Allie and Chris's secret relationship?" by the off chance that wasn't what Dean was mad about. But I mean, come on. What else could it be?
I could tell it was starting to get to Allie. She wasn't used to this side of Dean. When these two argue, they yell at the top of their lungs, sometimes for hours. They blow off steam at separate bars and then they're better in less than 48 hours. I don't think there has ever been this much hostility between these two for this long.
"I got you your own room." Dean tells her.
I can tell by the look on Allie's face that she's confused. Hell, even I'm confused. I didn't think Dean was going to let her get her own room again until this whole demon thing was settled.
"What?" Allie and I say at the same time.
Dean shrugs and tries handing her the key to her room. "You've been begging to have your own room for months. So, here you go." He dangles the keys in front of her face.
Allie eyes the keys suspiciously, "And this is only because I've been asking for months?"
Dean shrugs, "What else could it be?" I knew that was a loaded question - hell it was a challenge for Allie to confess.
I don't think Dean caught it, but I definitely noticed the slightly hurt expression on her face. She slowly takes the key from his hand and walks to her room which happens to be right next door.
Dean and I walk into our own room when we see Allie gets inside hers safely. We literally freeze in the doorway at the sight of our room. Everything is silver and glittery. There's a disco ball hanging from the ceiling, giving the room an overall Saturday Night Fever theme.
"Dude, so not cool," I say as I drop my stuff down on my bed.
"What?" Dean says like he has no idea what I'm talking about.
"Pushing away by putting her in another room." I say in an obvious tone.
Dean rolls his eyes, "She's been asking to have her own room now for a while. We haven't seen any demons in months. I figured she'd be okay on her own for a couple of days."
"You and I both know that's not why you sent her over there."
"Okay, first of all, I didn't send her anywhere. She's right next door."
"You didn't ask her. You shoved the keys in her hand."
"You're being dramatic." Dean says.
"I'm the one being dramatic?" I look at him incredulously. Dean cocks an eyebrow at me as if challenging me to continue, but seeing Allie hurt because of Dean's attitude towards her triggers me into speaking up for her, whether she was right or wrong about keeping her relationship a secret from Dean. "You're pissed off at Allie...and from what I'm assuming is for good reason…but you're not letting her explain herself. You're pushing her away and it's really getting to her, Dean."
Dean looks at me suspiciously, "Do you know something, Sam?"
I lick my lips and look down at my shoes. I don't want to rat Allie out, even if I was correct about what Dean was mad about. But I also didn't want to be stuck in the middle of this. This isn't my fight.
"Maybe."
"Is it about Chris?" Dean takes a step closer to me.
"Maybe," I say more quietly. I told Allie I wasn't going to lie to Dean if he asked.
"And you have the nerve to defend her?" Dean's voice rises.
"I'm not saying I agree with her…" I try to choose my words wisely, "…choice, but I don't think you're giving her any reason to open up to you. Not when you've been ignoring her for weeks."
"She's been hooking up with one of my closest friends."
"Maybe you should ask her for the whole story." I tell him. "Maybe then you'll understand why she doesn't want to tell you."
Dean stares at me for a couple of seconds. "What do you know?"
I sigh, "It's not my story to tell." Dean narrows his eyes at me. "Just trust me on this. You have a right to be mad, but just consider her feelings too. Don't push her away before you even get the whole story."
I pull out my phone and text Allie to come back over here. I knew that if I didn't, she wouldn't come back. I knew Allie like the back of my hand. Right now that girl is feeling way too shunned to even show her head in this room and sit in awkwardness. Looks like I'm going to be the mediator for this fight.
Dean walks back over to where he set down his bags and hunches over the kitchen area's table. I finally see the words I've said settling into his brain and I exhale a breath of relief because at least now he isn't so stubborn to see that maybe he was being a little too harsh before he got all the information. If it was one thing Winchesters are good at, it's jumping to conclusions.
A quiet knock comes from the door and I move to get it. "Be civil." I whisper to Dean before opening the door for Allie.
"Hey," I say, "We were just talking about the case."
Allie nods, looking slightly timid which is really odd for Allie because she never looks shy or ever really quiet. Yeah, this was definitely digging at her heart.
"So what were you guys specifically talking about?" She asks, only making eye contact with me. "And what was providence?"
"Provenance." I correct her. "It's a certificate of origin, like a biography. You know we can use them to check the history of the pieces, see if any of them have a freaky past."
"Huh." Dean smirks. "Well, we're not getting anything out of Chuckles, but Sarah..."
I grin, "Yeah, maybe you can get her to write it all down on a cocktail napkin." I say, feeding right into Dean's ego.
Dean laughs, "Not me."
My head snaps up to look at him and I quickly shake my head, "No, no, no, pick ups are your thing Dean."
"It wasn't my butt she was checking out."
I look over at Allie for backup on this. Hell, she owes me it. But even she shrugs her shoulders. "Sorry Sam, but I think Dean's right. If she was crushing on either of you, it was definitely you."
I sigh, "In other words, you want me to use her to get information."
Dean smirks, "Sometimes you gotta take one for the team. Call her."
I glance between Dean and Allie and slump defeatedly. However, the more I think about it, the more I kind of like the idea of going on this date with Sarah because that means I'll have to leave Dean and Allie alone…and maybe then they'll finally talk.
ALLIE'S POV:
After Sam left for his date I awkwardly went back to my room, figuring Dean wouldn't want to hang out with me. So I took a shower and ordered some cheap Chinese food to be delivered to the motel room. It was weird having my own room again, only it didn't seem right.
I was ringing my hair out with a dusty towel when someone knocked on the door.
"Thank god, I'm starving," I say to myself as I go to open my door with a twenty-dollar bill in my hand. When I open my door I'm surprised to see Dean and not an underpaid Chinese delivery boy. "Dean?"
"Hey," Dean says, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. "I, uh, got bored."
"And the local bar wasn't calling your name?" Dean gives me a look I can't quite read but he rolls his eyes and pushes past me, welcoming himself in my own room. "Don't take this the wrong way, but why are you here?"
"Like I said, I was bored." Dean says, immediately going for the remote and changing the channel on the TV. He makes himself comfortable on the couch and acts as if nothing has been off between the two of us for weeks.
I narrow my eyes and stare at my older brother, trying to decipher his weird mood. First, he wants nothing to do with me, even puts me in a separate room for further space. Next he wants to hang out instead of picking up girls while Sam is out on a date.
Dean catches my stare, but before I could say anything, there's another knock on the door.
Dean stands up as if something on the other side of that door is going to attack. At first I was confused, but then I realize this is my first time having a room to myself after the demon intrusion so Dean is obviously going to be a little skittish.
"It's okay," I tell him. "I ordered Chinese."
Dean nods but he doesn't stand down. He watches the door intently as I hand the delivery boy some money and a tip.
I turn around and offer Dean half, "You know I always order more than I can handle." I set the food on the table. "If you're hungry."
"Thanks." Dean says but he doesn't move.
I stab my sesame chicken with a plastic fork when my cell phone rings. I swear I can never catch a break.
"What's wrong? Realize that girl is way too out of your league?" I joke as I pick up the phone. I can basically picture Sam glaring at his phone as if I could see him.
"Seriously?"
"Sorry," I grin to myself. "Whats up?"
Now I have Dean's attention after he realizes I'm on the phone with Sam.
"It's just… I haven't been on a first date in a while…"
"Sam," I can't help but softly laugh. "I don't have much expertise in first dates either, but I know girls like flattery. Tell her she looks beautiful and maybe talk about that weird artwork you seem to know a lot about."
"I feel like I'm using her."
"Well you kind of are," I say lightly. "But if you find yourself enjoying her company, have fun with it. Get what you need for the case and have fun with each other. But not too much fun if you know what I mean."
"It's weird hearing that come from you." Sam says. "Oh, she's coming back. Thanks for the lack of help."
"Shut up, I gave great advice."
Sam hangs up on me and probably continues to struggle with his date.
Dean continues to watch me.
"It was Sam." I tell him.
"Not an expert in first dates, huh?" Dean scoffs. "I'm sure Chris would beg to differ."
I basically choke on my egg roll, and my eyes pretty much pop out of its sockets. So that's what it is! That's why Dean has been acting strange and why Sam has been avoiding all sorts of eye contact. The puzzle pieces fit perfectly. I don't know why it didn't pop in my brain before.
Dean heartlessly laughs, "You know, that reaction almost made me feel better."
"What did Sam tell you?" I ask.
I felt a little betrayed that Sam would tell on me as if we were little kids again. I mean I understood Sam when he kept telling me to tell Dean about my relationship with Chris, but it wasn't his place to tell him.
"Sam didn't have to tell me anything." Dean says, standing up and walking over to where I'm sitting. "I needed to borrow your phone to call Dad the other week. Saw a contact in your phone…"ASSHOLE" nice touch by the way." I roll my eyes and feel myself starting to sweat profusely. "Did a little digging and found you've been keeping in contact with my friend Chris. And let me tell you, it doesn't look good."
"Dean…" I stand up and shake my head. I thought my heart was going to beat out of my throat and I was going to vomit everywhere. I couldn't even look at the Chinese food anymore without getting nauseous.
"I mean you could've hooked up with anyone but for some reason you chose my friend?"
"It wasn't like that." I say defensively. I knew I was in the wrong here but I didn't want Dean to think I did this one night just because I felt like it and didn't care about his feelings.
"Right," Dean scoffs sarcastically. "You two fell in love and everything was rainbows and butterflies." He rolls his eyes and walks towards the door, probably regretting his decision to come in here and 'hang out' in the first place. He stops at the door with his hand on the doorknob. "You know, I didn't peg you out to be such a whore."
Dean left my room, slamming the door on his way out.
I stood there frozen in the middle of the room with what felt like a dagger in my heart and the wind knocked out of me. My brain turned to mush and I couldn't put together the word to describe what I was feeling. I wish there was a dark hole I could crawl into and never come out of.
After his date, Sam came over to get me and bring me back into their room. He got the provenances and wanted to go over them with Dean and I together. I didn't say a word to him, I just followed him into the other room. I didn't make eye contact with Dean, hell we didn't even look in the other's direction.
I was hurt that Dean thought me as a whore, and I blamed myself for being in this position in the first place.
Dean's sharpening some blades on his bed as Sam flips through the papers he got from Sarah.
"So she just handed the providences over to you?" Dean asks.
"Provenances," Sam corrects him.
Dean stops and raises an eyebrow, "Provenances?"
"Yes. We went back to her place, I got a copy of the papers…"
"And?" Dean smirks.
"And nothing," Sam shrugs. "That's it, I left." My twin glances over his shoulder at me and grins, "I guess I did take your advice after all, if you know what I mean."
Dean scoffs and rolls his eyes.
Sam glances between Dean and I and his jaw clenches and the 'awkward eye avoiding' Sam Winchester is back.
I stay standing off to the side with my arms crossed and my eyes glues to the floor. At this point, it took everything in me not to just break down right here right now. Too many emotions, too many frustrations. I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs and I also wanted to cry into my pillow. I've never felt more stupid yet more vulnerable.
"You know when this whole thing's done we could stick around for a little bit," Dean suggests, looking over at Sammy.
"Why?"
"So you could take her out again. Obviously you're into her, even I can see that."
This time, I roll my eyes but neither of my brothers see it. When Sam is semi-interested in someone, Dean is full-on supportive, but for me, he jumps to conclusions and calls me names.
Sam shakes his head and looks back down at his work, "Hey, I think I've got something here."
Dean gets up from his bed and walks over to the table Sam was sitting out. Since I'm being irrational and stubborn, I stay in my spot by the bathroom and watch from a far.
Sam hands Dean the paper he was looking at, "Portrait of Isaiah Merchant's family, painted 1910." Dean reads.
"Now compare the names of the owners with Dad's journal." Sam says.
Dean goes over Dad's journal and nods, "First purchased in 1912 by Peter Simms. Peter Simms murdered 1912. Same thing in 1945. Oh, Same in 1970."
"Then stored, until it was donated to a charity auction last month. Where the Telescas bought it. What do you think, it's haunted? Cursed?"
"Either way, it's toast." Dean shakes his head.
I silently sigh to myself because I know this means I can't just go back into my room and fall asleep until morning. It sounds like we're taking ourselves on a little midnight road trip to the auction house.
Dean parked the car a couple blocks away from the auction house just in case we blow any alarms we didn't see earlier. We sprinted through the lot that was protected by a large metal gate.
"Come on!" Dean grunts as we climb the large fence and hop over it. And let me tell you, it's harder than it looks.
Sam works on the alarm system, wearing black latex gloves as I kneel in front of the front door, waiting to be told when its safe to pick the lock.
"Go ahead."
Wearing my own latex gloves, I pick the lock fairly easily and open the door.
We separate to find the painting with flashlights in our hand.
"Over here," Dean says loudly.
Dean sprints up the spiral staircase and Sam and I followed. I hold the flashlight towards the creepy painting as Dean cuts it out of the frame with a switchblade. Just like that, we're out of that place in a couple minutes. Our long history of breaking and entering pays off every once in a while.
Dean drives us to a random dirt road in the middle of nowhere and torches the painting.
"Ugly ass thing. If you ask me we're doing the art world a favor."
Usually I would have a comment to add, or I would laugh along with Dean. But honestly, I'm still really hurt by Dean and all my sadness and self-pity was turning into anger and aggravation. So I clench my jaw and turn back towards the car. Without saying another word, I step into the back seat.
The next morning, I wake up to my brothers banging on my motel door with their fists. I glare at my two brothers since the wake up was really unnecessary. When I see Dean, I'm reminded of everything that was said yesterday and I mentally get angry.
I made a mistake but I deserve better. I understand his anger towards me but I wish he could have talked to me about it instead of just jumping to conclusions and calling me a whore. I wanted to slap him across the face when he belittled my relationship, and then I just went blank when he called me a whore. I get the man has strong opinions but at the end of the day I'm still his little sister.
"What?" I ask.
"Dean thinks he lost his wallet at the auction house while we were there last night." Sam explains.
"How's that my problem?" I tighten my glare and direct it at my oldest brother.
Dean seems surprised by my sudden change in attitude. I was no longer feeling guilty, I was just pissed.
"It's got my prints, my ID, well my fake ID anyway. We gotta get it before someone else finds it. Come on."
I roll my eyes and slam the door in the their faces so I could get changed into normal people clothes. I figured we were heading out of this town after we retrieved Dean's wallet, so I packed my duffel bag and shoved it into the back seat of the impala with me.
Dean speeds off to the auction house once again. On the ride there, the deafening silence is finally starting to click in Sam's head that Dean and I had our little talk. He glances behind his shoulder and gives me a weird look, but I move my eyes to the window and stare out into the foggy landscape to avoid eye contact.
We check under every nook and cranny for Dean's wallet in the auction house. Luckily the place was mostly empty so we had no one pestering us this time.
"How do you lose your wallet Dean!" Sam exasperates.
Dean throws his hands in the air incredulously and keeps looking.
"Hey guy!"
I turn around and see Sarah approaching the three of us with a big smile on her face. She walks towards Sam and looks at him quizzically. "What are you doing here?"
"Ahh, we…we are leaving town and we came to say goodbye."
"What are you talking about Sam?" Dean walks over and passes a smile between the two lovebirds. "We're here for another day or two." Sam and I turn to look at him confused. Dean reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his wallet. My mouth drops open, literally my jaw almost hits the ground. "Oh, Sam. By the way, I'm gonna go ahead and give you that twenty dollars I owe you." He looks up at Sarah. "I always forget, you know."
I look at him in disbelief and my fists clench up, ready to swing. "Are you fu –"
"Well I'll leave you two crazy kids alone, I gotta do something…somewhere." Dean cuts me off and grabs me by the elbow.
I rip my arm away from his grip, but I don't continue my sentence. Instead, I take a couple steps away from him and just wait for Sam to be done talking to Sarah.
"We're not actually waiting around for a couple of more days, right?" I ask through clenched teeth.
Dean raises an eyebrow in my direction and looks at me like I just grew two heads. "Where do you get off giving me the attitude?"
I look up at the ceiling and let out a loud cackling humorless laugh, "You know what Dean? Fuck you!"
Dean looks surprised by my outburst. I've never said that to Dean so aggressively. Yeah, he's pissed me off many of times, but I've never been so hurt.
Dean opens his mouth to say something but Sam screaming, "Oh my god!" catches us both off guard. I turn around quickly and find exactly what scared Sam. The painting we "supposedly" destroyed last night is being moved around in the auction house for display once again.
"Crap," I mutter.
"I don't understand Dean, we burned the damn thing." Sam says as Dean speeds away from the auction house.
"Yeah, thank you Captain Obvious. All right, we just need to figure out another way to get rid of it. Any ideas?" Dean says from behind the wheel.
"Okay, All right. Well, in almost all the lore about haunted paintings it's always the painting's subject that haunts them."
"Yeah. So we just need to figure out everything there is to know about that creepy-ass family and that creepy-ass painting. What were their names again?"
"Merchants," I say from the backseat and stare out the window. "We should probably head to the library."
Dean looks at me through the rearview mirror. I notice a change in the way he looks at me. His eyes aren't filled with hatred anymore.
When we asked the librarian about the painting, she pointed us in the direction of a second hand bookshop. The proprietor got all excited when we asked about the Merchant family.
"I dug up every scrap of local history I could find. So are you three crime buffs?"
"Kinda. Yeah. Why do you ask?" Dean asks.
"Well…" the proprietor holds up a newspaper article. He points to the headline that says Father Slaughters Family, Kills Himself.
"Yeah, that sounds about right." I cross my arms over my chest.
"The whole family was killed?" Sam asks.
"It seems this Isaiah, he slits his kids throats, then his wife, then himself. Now he was a barber by trade. Used a straight razor." The proprietor jabs at the newspaper with a smile on his face.
"Why'd he do it?" I ask.
"Let's look. Ahh..." He looks down at the article and reads straight from it, "People who knew him describe Isaiah as having a stern and harsh temperament. Controlled his family with an iron fist. Wife, two sons, adopted daughter..." He pauses and continues to skim through it silently. He nods to himself and continues reading. "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."
The proprietor brings his hand up by his neck and acts like he's slicing it open, making cutting noises and laughing to himself. Dean joins in on the fun and mimics what he's doing.
Sam and I pass Dean our best bitch faces to get him to stop.
"Does it say what happened to the bodies?" I ask. I know it seems like I have a stick up my ass by the way the happy-go-lucky proprietor looks at me, but I can't help it.
"It says they were all cremated." The man replies.
"Anything else?" Sam asks.
"Yeah. Actually I found a picture of the family. It's right here…somewhere. Right, here it is." He holds up a picture of the painting.
"Hey, can we get a copy of this please?" Sam asks.
"Sure."
SAM'S POV:
After meeting with the proprietor, Allie quietly slipped back into her room. I glanced at Dean after she shut her door and saw that his expression changed from pissed and accusing to guilty and somewhat regretful. Obviously they had some kind of talk, but it didn't go the way I thought it would.
I decide not to question Dean about it just yet. My mind is currently wrapped around the case after talking to the book store guy, who I also noticed was overly into the story of the Merchant family.
"The painting at the auction house, Dad is looking down. Painting here, Dad's looking out. The painting has changed Dean."
"All right so you think that Daddy dearest is trapped in the painting and is handing out Columbian neckties like with his family?" Dean asks, leaning back into the chair at the motel table.
"Well yeah, it seems like it. But if his bones are already dusted how are we gonna stop him?"
"All right, well. If Isaiah's position changed then maybe other things in the painting did too. It could give us some clues."
"What, like a Da Vinci Code deal?" I ask.
Dean just stares at me blankly, "I don't...know. uhh...I'm still waiting for the movie on that one. Anyway, we gotta get back in and see that painting." He stands up and throws himself on his bed. "Which is a good thing cause you can get some more time to crush on your girlfriend."
I roll my eyes, "Dude. Enough already."
"What?" Dean asks obliviously.
"What? Ever since we got here you been trying to pimp me out to Sarah. Just back off, all right?"
"Well you like her don't you?" Dean raises an eyebrow. I don't answer. Instead I look up at the ceiling and throw my arms out in exasperation. "All right, you like her, she likes you, you're consenting adults…"
"What's the point Dean," I blow up, frustrated. "We'll just leave, we always leave."
"Well I'm not talking about marriage Sam."
"I don't get it, why do you care if I hook up?"
"Cause them maybe you wouldn't be so cranky all the time," Dean says calmly.
I look down at my hands and anxiously fiddle with my thumbs. A frown itches onto my lips and I'm forced into a bunch of flashbacks with Jess. I never pictured being with anyone else but her. So, it's hard for me to even think about moving forward, even though I know it would be what she would want.
Dean shifts in the bed, "You know, seriously Sam, this isn't just about hooking up, okay? I mean, I think that this Sarah girl could be good for you."
I feel my eyes string with tears as I'm swarmed with a bunch of memories of Jess and I. My heart breaks in pieces when I picture her face because I miss her so much and I still carry the weight of guilt when I think about her death.
Dean continues, seeing my hurt expression, and tones down his voice softly. "And...I don't mean any disrespect but I'm sure this is about Jessica right? Now I don't know what it's like to lose somebody like that...but...I would think that she would want you to be happy." I stay quiet, afraid that if I look up, I might burst into sobs. I couldn't do that in front of my older brother. "God forbid have fun once in a while. Wouldn't she?"
"Yeah I know she would." I say. I can picture her scolding me for being so hesitant. Because holding myself back from having any fun is only making me more depressed about her death. And she wouldn't want that from me. I smile at the thought. "Yeah you're right. Part of this is about Jessica. But not the main part."
"What's it about?" Dean asks. I press my lips into a straight line and stay quiet. Dean realizes I'm not going to speak and gives up. "Yeah all right."
I didn't like the idea of Dean feeling sorry for me, and although I said I wouldn't pester Dean with questions about Allie, we were on the topic of hookups and relationships and I needed to change the subject so…
"Can I ask you something?" I ask him.
Dean nods his head nonchalantly, assuming I'm going to ask a random question about hookups or maybe even for some advice. "Yeah."
"What happened between you and Allie?"
Dean grimaces at her name and looks down at his lap. His guilty expression appears again on his face and he crosses his arms over his chest. "I said some thing I shouldn't have said. I took the argument too far." Dean admits, which I'm surprised about because he barely admits he's wrong.
"Did she tell you what happened?" I ask.
Dean shakes his head, "Truthfully, I didn't let her. I mean, I have a right to be mad, don't I?"
"Yeah you do, Dean. But I don't think you would be as mad at her if you knew the whole story which is why I told you to listen to her." I say, slightly annoyed because no resolution has been made. I can't stand the tension anymore.
"What happened?" He asks. His face relaxes and he doesn't look so angry anymore about the subject of Allie and Chris hooking up. Now he's more curious and worried, and his protective brotherly instincts are showing. I hesitate in answering. I promised Allie I wouldn't tell. "Come on, man. The damage is already done. She won't even look at me."
He has a point.
"Look," I sigh. "You have every reason to be mad at Allie, but she really did try to make things better after her and Chris ended things."
"Wait. What do you mean ended things? They slept together more than once?" Dean sits up straight and narrows his eyes in my direction as if he couldn't understand a word I just said.
"Dean, they were dating for almost a year. Allie loved him."
Dean's mouth dropped open in shock. Then he looked kind of hurt. "Why wouldn't she tell me?"
"If I'm being honestly, probably because of a reaction like this," I say, motioning towards the wall that separated our room from Allie's. Dean glances down. "But anyway, if I were you, I'd be furious at Chris. Not Allie."
"Yeah, well next time I see that guy I'm going to knock out his teeth," Dean grumbles to himself.
"You're going to want to do more than that when you see him." I frown. I tell Dean everything that Allie told me. I feel like I'm betraying Allie in some kind of way, but I know if Dean knows the truth, it's going to relieve some of the tension between them and Dean will understand where Allie is coming from. "She noticed that you and Chris were spending less time with each other and she felt responsible, so she got in touch with Chris to tell him not to break the friendship because of what happened between the two of them."
At this point, Dean is pissed. He's now standing, pacing the room with his hands in his fists at his side. If it was possible, I'd be able to see steam coming out of his ears.
"That son of a bitch!" Dean says loudly.
"She was afraid to tell you because –" Well to be honest, I don't know why Allie wouldn't tell him. She wanted to protect their friendship, but I honestly don't know why that was so important. We're hunters. We're bound to lose friends eventually. I just shake my head and sigh, "She was jus trying to protect you."
My cell phone rings from my duffel bag and it cuts off our conversation. I wanted to talk to Dean a little while longer and see where his mind was at now with this new information. Although I can still kind of tell through his body language and facial expression, I want to hear what he's thinking. However, when I see that it's Sarah calling, I feel inclined to answer it.
"Hey Sarah it's Sam," I say awkwardly. After talking with Dean, I really didn't know how to feel about her. I think she's beautiful and sweet…funny even…but I'm still holding myself back. She asks me how I am, "Good. Good, yeah. What about you?" She says she's doing well and like an idiot I repeat, "Yeah good, really good." I feel like I'm 12 years old again, speaking to a girl for the first time.
"Smooth…" I hear Dean whisper sarcastically.
"So...so ah listen. Me and my brother, we were...uh...thinking that maybe we'd like to come back in and look at the painting again." Great, now I'm nervous because I have Dean in the corner eavesdropping. "I think maybe we are interested in buying it…"
"Oh, my dad found another buyer for it. It shipped out this morning." Sarah tells me.
"What?" I say loudly. This gets Dean's attention and he watches me more seriously.
"Who'd you sell it to?" I ask.
"Her name's Evelyn, she's an old friend of ours." Sarah says innocently.
Dean rises from his seat on the bed and watching me intently, already figuring the turn the conversation has made.
"Sarah, I need an address right now."
ALLIE'S POV:
20 minutes after coming back from the book store, Sam and Dean were loudly banging on my door with their eyes wide and bouncing on their toes. In the chaos of them yelling at me to get my ass in the car, Sam explained that Sarah called him and told him the painting was sold to someone else.
How that painting keeps getting sold is a mystery within itself.
Sarah must have given Sam an address because he was yelling directions at Dean who was speeding about 70 miles over the desired speed limit. When we get there, Sarah hops out of her own car that was sitting in the driveway when we arrived.
"Sam, what's happening?" Sarah demands as we rush past her to the house.
"I told you, you shouldn't have come." Sam says, running past her.
At the front door, I instantly get on my knees with my picklock ready, figuring it wouldn't be that urgent if this Evelyn person wasn't already in danger.
Dean starts pounding on the door with his fists, "Hello, anyone home?"
No one answers.
"You said Evelyn might be in danger, what sort of danger?" Sarah pesters for answers.
I glance up at Sam. This was his girl, his responsibility.
"I can't knock this sucker down, Allie you gotta pick up the pace a little bit," Dean says, looking down at me.
I roll my eyes, "Do you really think I'm taking my grand ol' time here for the fun of it, Dean?"
"What are you guys, burglars?" Sarah asks, her eyes wide with fear and surprise. But mostly fear.
Sam continues banging on the windows that are boarded up with metal bars. "I wish it was that simple. Look you really should wait in the car. It's for your own good."
I hear the lock click and I push the door open forcefully. Dean and I are the first one to run inside, followed by Sam and even Sarah.
"The hell I will. Evelyn's a friend," Sarah fires back at Sam. I gotta hand it to her, the girl's got some sass and she's starting to grow on me.
"Evelyn?" Sarah calls out.
"Evelyn?" Dean repeats, looking around.
Evelyn's house is a mansion. High wooden ceilings with wooden arches as doorways and expensive looking pieces of art hanging around her entire living room, which is big enough to be a one bed room apartment.
Evelyn is sitting in a chair by the fireplace with her back turned to us. She doesn't move at the sound of a bunch of intruders entering her home and I can already assume the worst. We were too late.
"Evelyn? It's Sarah Blake…Are you all right?" Sarah walks ahead of us and approaches Evelyn. She reaches out to touch her shoulder.
"Sarah don't! Sarah!" Sam cries out to her, but it's too late.
Evelyn's head tips back, revealing her slashed throat. And I gotta say, even I have to look away. It's a horrible sight.
"Oh my god! Oh my god!" Sarah screeches.
Sam immediately steps in and wraps his arms around her shoulders and leads her out of the house. I grimace, thinking of how we just traumatized an innocent girl.
Somehow Sam convinces Sarah to lie to the cops as Sam, Dean, and I sneak out of there and go straight back to the motel room.
Dean sits at the table and clicks away on the laptop and Sam paces back and forth in the room, probably feeling horrible about what Sarah just saw and I don't blame him. There goes any chance of a second date.
I prepare for whatever kind of plan we make by sharpening the knives and loading the shotguns with rock salt bullets. As I do so, I feel Dean pass me a glance every now and then but I make sure to keep my gaze on the weapons in front of me. I don't know what happened in the past hour, but something within him changed. He doesn't seem to be too mad at me anymore.
Sam goes to open the door when someone knocks. In walks Sarah Blake and she no longer is shaking with terror, but instead she looks pissed.
"Hey. You all right?" Sam asks. I could tell he really cares that she's okay.
"No actually, I just lied to the cops and told them I went to Evelyn's, alone, and found her like that."
Sam exhales a breath of relief, "Thank you."
"Don't thank me, I'm about to call them right back and tell them what the hell's going on. Who's killing these people?!"
Fair enough.
Sam looks back at Dean who raises his brows. He looks impressed with Sarah's new attitude and I'm kind impressed too. Maybe there's an underlying badass hidden by her rich innocent features.
Sam sighs and says, "What."
"What?" Sarah asks confused.
"It's not a who. It's what is killing those people."
"We're pretty positive it's a spirit." I say, and I only say it to make Sam shake in his pants a little bit. He's already flustered, so confusing Sarah even more and throwing Sam under the bus sounded entertaining.
Sarah looks between Sam and I like we're all insane. It's a look I've gotten used to by now.
"Sarah, you saw that painting move," Sam tells her.
"No…no I was… I was seeing things," Sarah says irritated. "It's impossible."
"Yeah well, welcome to our world," Dean grins sarcastically.
"Sarah I know this sounds crazy...but we think that that painting is haunted."
"You're joking," Sarah scoffs. She looks back at me for my reaction, then to Dean and Sam – all of us just stare at her seriously. "You're not joking. God, the guys I choose to go out with."
"You could do better," I smirk. Sam sends a glare my way and Dean throws a pillow at me. "I'm kidding. Damn, the tension in this room…"
I know I should be the last one to speak considering there has been nothing but tension between Dean and I. But after seeing how terrified Sarah was because of the death of her friend, I wanted to add some lightness and jokes into the mix to make her feel more comfortable.
Sam shakes his head and focuses back on Sarah, "Sarah, think about it. Evelyn, the Telesca's, they both had the painting. And there have been others before that. Wherever this thing goes people die. And we're just trying to stop it. And that's the truth."
Sarah takes a deep breath, "Then I guess you'd better show me. I'm coming with you."
My eyes go wide with surprise. I expected her to run away and throw a couple f bombs at us. Or at least accept it and never talk to Sam again. But coming along? That was unexpected.
"What? No. Sarah no, you should just go home. This stuff can get dangerous and...and I don't want you to get hurt." Sam says.
"Look, you guys are probably crazy, but if you're right about this? Then me and my Dad sold this painting that got these people killed. Look I'm not saying I'm not scared because I am scared as hell but...I'm not going to run and hide either." Sarah walks to the door with a new stand of confidence and looks back at the three of us. "So are we going or what?"
She walks out, leaving us all frozen in shock.
"Sam?" Dean says. Sam turns around and Dean points to the door, "Marry that girl."
We got back to Evelyn's house. The cops relocked her door so I have to re-pick the lock.
Sarah looks around anxiously with her arms crossed, "Ahh…isn't this a crime scene?"
"You've already lied to the cops, what's another infraction?" Dean smirks.
I push the door open again and we all immediately go to the painting hanging over Evelyn's fireplace. Sam lifts it down and we all look at it, examining it for any differences. Still creepy as fuck.
"Aren't you worried that it's…gonna kill us?"
"Nah, it seems to do it's thing at night. I think we're all right in the daylight."
Dean brought the picture the proprietor gave us yesterday with him and compares the two pictures by holding them next to each other. "Sam, Allie, check it out. The razor, it's closed in this one but it's open in that one."
"What are you guys looking for?" Sarah asks.
"Well if the spirits changing aspects of the painting maybe it's doing so for a reason." I say, testing the theory out in my head as I say it out loud.
"Hey hey look at this." Sam says. "The painting in the painting."
In the corner is a painting of a small stone building of some sort.
Dean looks down at the painting, "Looks like a crypt, or a mausoleum or something."
I glance down at the small table by the arm chair we found Evelyn in and see a thick glass ashtray. I grab it and hover it over the tiny painting to get a clearer image of what is written on the small stone building.
"Merchant." I read the name and glance at my brothers with a quirked eyebrow.
We have to get to the graveyard.
Finding Mr. Merchant's grave was a lot harder than I thought it was going to be. We've already checked two different cemeteries and we've come up with squat. Surprisingly, Sarah was still following us around, and I give the girl props – she does not scare easily.
"This is the third boneyard we've checked. I think this ghost is jerking us around." Dean grumbles to himself.
"So this is what you guys do for a living?" Sarah asks apprehensively.
"Not exactly," Sam answers. "We don't get paid."
"Well, mazel tov."
I look at all the big stone and concrete buildings. Personally, I don't understand why people would spend thousands of dollars to be laid to rest in a mausoleum verses the ground. Your dead either way, it's not like you can enjoy the luxury of a mausoleum.
Finally I see a mausoleum with the name Merchant on it and point it out to the rest, "Over there." I say.
I lead us over to a creepy small house for a dead body. Dean breaks the lock on the door and pushes the cobwebs aside. Inside was not what I was expecting. No dead bodies in sight. Sitting on a shelf are four urns with name plates below them. On the other wall is four cases, each holding a small item that belonged to the deceased. Sarah is currently looking at a creepy doll.
"Okay, that right there is one of the creepiest things I've ever seen." Sarah states.
Sam walks over to her, "It was a...sort of tradition at the time. Whenever a child died sometimes they'd preserve the kids favorite toy in a glass case, put it next to the headstone or crypt."
"Notice anything strange here?" Dean asks.
I look at what Dean's looking at, finding my stare to be on the urns.
"Where do I start?" Sarah replies. Sam snickers at her response. In any other situation, I would have found their interaction cute.
However, I'm focused on the urns Dean pulled my attention too. In the painting there are five people, but there are only four urns.
"There's only four urns," I reply to Dean. I turn around to look at him to see if this is where his mind is at. He nods.
"Yeah Mom and the three kids. Daddy dearest isn't here." Dean says.
Sam glances at Dean then looks back at the urns, "So where is he?"
My shoulders slump and my neck falls so that I'm staring up at the ceiling. Nothing about this case is proving to be easy.
We wait until morning to do further digging. Sarah comes back to the motel room bright and early for the day. Again, I'm shocked she still wants to hang around us. I mean was Sam really that enticing?
Dean pulls us to the county's office building and parks the car. I stay seated in the backseat thinking Dean is just going to go in and out really quick, but he turns around and motions to me.
"All right. Sam and Sarah will stay here, Allie you come with me."
"What?" I ask surprised. After our last conversation, I really didn't think Dean was going to talk to me for the rest of this case – at least.
"It will be faster with the two of us." Dean says.
"Take Sam." I suggest.
"Sam's a shit liar, and you're a pro at it."
I didn't know if that was a shot at my secret relationship with Chris or him just speaking generally, but I took it as the former. Figuring it was best not to argue especially since Sarah's in the car, I go with him, but I stay silent.
We walk through the doors together and approach the front desk. We lie about our names and say we're looking into cold cases and needed to be let into where they keep the death certificates. Like clock work, the lady at the front desk does not believe us so we flash her our fake IDs.
Silently, we file through all the death certificates in the filing cabinet labeled 'M.' During our search, I feel Dean's constant gaze on the side of my face. I purse my lips as I flick through the pieces of paper, trying hard not to burst.
"Allie, can we talk?" Dean asks.
"I need to concentrate," I retort.
"I didn't mean anything by what I said in the car. I just meant that you're good at tricking people into thinking you're not just a regular girl."
I blink up at him with a straight face to show that he wasn't helping his case what so ever. Dean grins at me goofily, the kind of grin he knows will make me laugh because it shows that he knows he's guilty but he's trying to look innocent.
I just look back down at my pile. The name Merchant sticks out like a sore thumb finally and I snatch it front it's file. "Found it."
Dean doesn't try to gain my attention anymore and walks over to me to take a look at the file.
Looks like Daddy Merchant wasn't a fan favorite in their family. But rightfully so.
Dean and I walk back outside to meet with Sam and Sarah, and this time Dean doesn't bother wasting his breath. We find Sam and Sarah sitting on a concrete backless bench. As Dean and I approach them, we see them staring at each other deep in concentration. We wait to see if Sam was going to make his move, but when that didn't happen, Dean cut into their moment.
"Am I interrupting something?" He smirks.
Sam and Sarah jump and noticeably, sit up, and back their heads away from each other.
"No." Sam coughs.
"No, not at all." Sarah shakes her head.
"Clearly," I smirk, looking between them.
Again, Sam clears his throat, "So what'd you get?"
"Paydirt. Apparently the surviving relatives of the Merchant family were so ashamed of Isaiah that they didn't want him interred with the rest of the family. So, they gave him over to the county, the county gave him a pauper's funeral. Economy style. Turns out he wasn't cremated, he was buried in a pine box." Dean explains.
"So there are bones to burn?" Sam asks.
"There are bones to burn," I confirm with a nod.
"Tell me you know where." Sam says.
"Sam," I shake my head dramatically. "Always questioning my hard work…"
Sam rolls his eyes and I smirk. Of course I know where he's buried.
At the graveyard, Sam and Dean dig into the grave while Sarah and I watch from the sidelines. Usually one of the knuckleheads need a break and ask me to step in but since Sarah is around, I think Sam is trying to impress the girl and Dean suddenly feels bad about yelling at me.
"You guys seem to be uncomfortably comfortable with this," Sarah says.
"Well, this isn't exactly the first grave we've dug." Sam says. He looks over his shoulder and sends a wink Sarah's way. "Still think I'm a catch?"
"Think I've got something," Dean says as his shovel hits something concrete.
Sam hops out of the grave as we crowd around it. Dean cracks open the coffin and reveals Mr. Merchant's rotting skeleton.
Dean hops out and I start salting the body. Then he lights a match and drops it into the grave, "You've been a real pain in the ass Isaiah. Good riddance."
We stand over the grave just like we did the painting and watch it burn. Finally, this thing is over.
We drive back to Evelyn's house to snatch the ugly painting off the wall just in case. Sam volunteers to go get it.
"Keep the motor running," He tells Dean.
"I thought the painting was harmless now?" Sarah says.
"Better to be safe than sorry."
Sarah moves to get out of the car, "I'm coming with you." She says.
"You sure?" Sam asks.
Sarah nods and follows Sam up the front porch.
Dean rolls down his window and calls out to Sam, "Sam. Sam!" Sam and Sarah turn around to look at him and he cranks the volume on the radio to a random ballad. Okay, how can I not crack a smile at that one? Sam's face is so worth it too. He glares at Dean and motions for him to cut it out. Dean eventually sighs and turns off the radio.
I keep my eyes on the house just in case Sam and Sarah yell out for us. Dean leans back into his seat, satisfied with his little joke.
"Allie, I'm sorry for calling you a whore." Dean sighs. My head snaps forward to look at him.
"Dean – "
I'm cut off by the sound of Evelyn's front door slamming shut with a loud bang. I immediately sit up and Dean whips around to look at the now closed door.
"What are the odds that's just Sam and Sarah wanting someone alone time in a dead woman's home." I say as Dean and I fly out of the car and sprint to Sam and Sarah.
Dean shoves at the door with it having no intention of opening. I run to the window to see if I could see anything but all the blinds are shut.
"Dean! Allie! That you?" Sam cries out from the other side.
"Sammy, you all right?" Dean asks.
My phone starts ringing with Sam's ID popping up. I answer instantly and put it on speaker for Dean to hear.
"Tell me you slammed the front door," I answer.
"No it wasn't me. I think it was the little girl," Sam says.
Dean and I look up at each other confused. "Girl? What girl?"
"I think she's out of the painting, I think it's been her all along," Sam says.
"Wasn't the Dad looking down at her?" Dean asks. "Maybe he was trying to warn us."
"Hey hey hey, let's recap later all right? Get us out of here." Sam demands with a little sass in his tone.
"Well I'm trying to pick the lock, the door won't budge," Dean says.
"Well, knock it down."
"Okay genius, let me just grab my battering ram." Dean says.
"You know, it would be smart to invest in them one of these days," I shrug nonchalantly like we weren't in a life threatening situation.
"Allie the damn thing is coming," Sam yells at me.
"Well you're just gonna have to hold it off until I figure something out. Get some salt or iron." Dean says.
I walk around the house looking for a different entrance that Dean and I could sneak into but nothing seemed to be open or too high up.
Sam calls my phone again.
"Sammy, you okay?" I ask, getting more and more anxious the longer I do not see Sam face to face.
"Yeah, for now." Sam says.
"How are we getting rid of her?"
"I don't know, she was cremated. There's nothing left to burn."
"Then how's she still around?" I yell.
"There must be something else." Sam says.
There's shuffling on Sam's end of the line and I get worried that the girl appeared and attacked.
"Allie, Sarah said the doll might have the kid's real hair. Human remains, the same as bones."
"Dammit," I curse. "The Mausoleum!"
I cry out to Dean to drive us to the mausoleum, explaining to him what Sam told me. I throw my differences aside with Dean because I didn't need my problems with my brother coming in the way of helping Sam get out of that house as soon as possible.
"Watch out," Dean throws his arm over my chest and drives the impala straight through the metal gates guarding the graveyard.
The impala comes to a screeching halt in front of the Merchant's Mausoleum. The door is still broken from when we first illegally entered the room. Dean tries smashing the glass case open that contained the creepy doll that is now even more creepy but it didn't crack.
"Come on Dean!" I shout.
Dean points the gun at the glass and shoots at it, shattering it immediately. I step forward and break away the remaining pieces of glass, covering my hand with the sleeve of my flannel so I don't split it open.
I pass the doll to Dean is already has his lighter out. Dean keeps clicking the light, but it just sparks with lights – never keeping it's flame.
"Come on, come on," I grunt.
Finally Dean's lighter catches and he holds it under the doll's hair. It immediately begins to smoke and crackle from the fire, and burns away.
I pull out my phone to call Sam, praying to some higher power that burning that doll actually worked this time. Literally, this case blows.
"Sam, you good?" I ask when I hear him answer.
Sam exhales, "Not bad."
I close my eyes and say a silent prayer. Dean sees my reaction and does the same. Now I can finally say, this case is over.
The next day, we meet back up at the auction house to make sure that painting doesn't see the light of day again. I stay with Sam and Sarah, watching a couple of workers packing the painting in a wooden box.
Dean approaches us with a couple of papers, "This was archived in the county records. The Merchant's adopted daughter Melanie. Know why she was up for adoption? Cause her real family was murdered in their beds."
"She killed them?" I ask.
"Yeah. Who'd suspect her? Sweet 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."
"So where's this one go?" One of the workers asks Sarah.
"Take it out back and burn it," She tells them. The workers pause to look at her, making sure they heard her correctly. "I'm serious guys. Thanks." She turns back to us when they disappear out back. "So why'd the girl do it?"
"Killing others? Killing herself? Some people are just born tortured. So when they die, their spirits are just as dark." Sam shrugs.
"Maybe. I don't really care. It's over, we move on." Dean says.
"Agreed." I answer. He looks down at me and I offer him a small grin.
That could have easily been Dean trapped in that house. And if for some reason he didn't make it out alive, I would never forgive myself for letting my last memory with my brother be about this stupid fight. It wasn't worth it.
"I guess this means you're leaving," Sarah says.
I take that as my cue for Dean and I to leave, but for Dean it takes a little longer for him to process the cue. Sam has to stare at him for him to get the hint.
"Oh, I'll go wait in the car. See you, Sarah." Dean and I walk away as I wave goodbye to her. Dean grumbles to himself, "I'm the one that burned the doll, destroyed the spirit, but don't thank me or anything."
Dean and I stand by the car on either side waiting for Sam to walk out. I lean against the warm metal on my side and awkwardly pick at my fingers. I've been being a bitch this entire case, but I can't bring myself to say sorry. I'm tired of this guilty feeling when I've been doing nothing but trying to make this right.
"Sam told me about Chris," Dean says, taking the liberty to break the ice.
My eyes flicker up at him and I bite my lip anxiously. "I figured."
"At first he didn't tell me everything. That's why I was so angry with you before. But what I said was out of line, and I don't mean it. I really am sorry for calling you that Allie."
"It's okay." I say softly. "I'm sorry for keeping my relationship with Chris a secret for so long – hell, I'm even sorry for hooking up with him in the first place."
"Yeah, well just so you know, you're never allowed to see him again," Dean says.
"Dean – "
"I'm not saying that to be obnoxious. That dude's a dick, Allie. After what he did to you…he made you out to be some kind of joke! No. The next time I see him, he's going to wish we never met in the first place."
"Dean, I took care of it."
"Is he still breathing?"
I roll my eyes, "Yes."
"Then obviously, you didn't take care of it."
"You're trying to tell me you're not being obnoxious right now?" I smirk at the question and Dean's response, which was no response. Just an eye roll. But that's what made Dean so special to me. He'd do anything to protect me.
Dean eventually smirks too, "So are we good?"
"We can put this whole thing behind us?"
"This whole thing with you and Chris completely over?"
"One hundred percent," I nod firmly.
"Then yes, this whole thing is behind us."
"Good. Sorry for being a bitch."
"Eh," Dean shrugs. "I'm used to it." He smirks.
At that moment, Sam walks out of the auction house with Sarah waving goodbye at the door. Sam's halfway down the steps when something clicks in his head and he turns back around. He knocks on the door again and Sarah answers. Finally, Sam moves in to kiss her.
Dean smiles, "That's my boy."
Dean and I hop in the car and let Sam have his moment with his girl. I sit in the back and smile to myself because all three of us are out of our funk and we can go back to being our normal selves, which just happens to be anything from normal.
Finally.