It's ass o'clock in the morning and Elizabeth is starting to wonder where she went wrong in life.
"Stop making that grumpy face," Sam says, barely sparing her a glance. "I'll buy you coffee when we're done here." She growls low in her throat and feels her gums throbbing in response, like something is just itching to burst out. It's been happening more and more lately, but she's not telling her boys about it for fear of them making a dentist appointment. Dentists are way worse than some murderous spirit.
"A good brother would have bought me coffee before making me do an EMF sweep."
"I never said I was a good brother." Which is true, he never has. She's pretty sure she got him a coffee cup one year with world's okayest brother on it. He's never used it, but it's bright pink with the words written in gold sparkles and it's fucking cute. She might just steal it back. "You got anything?"
"There isn't even any dust." Elizabeth snaps another picture, the view screen only showing pristinely clean curtains. "What kind of house doesn't have a little dust? The Telescas must have been neat freaks or something." The Telescas are the whole reason they're in New York, murdered in their bedroom with all the doors and windows locked and no sign of a break-in.
"Alright, I don't think there's anything here. I mean, most of their junk was donated to some auction house, so we probably have to go there if we want to find anything." Elizabeth throws her head back and groans, ignoring the way Sam manhandles her toward the stairs.
"I don't wanna work, I want coffee and trashy magazines." She stomps the entire way down the stairs and out to the car, pausing only long enough for Sam to reach through the open window and honk the horn to wake Dean up. At least she's not hungover like he is.
"You're such a dick," Dean grunts, sitting up straighter in the front seat. Elizabeth slides into the car, curling up against Dean and wrapping his arms around her. "Why the fuck are we awake right now? It's, like, ass o'clock."
"Because we have a case and we're responsible adults," Sam says.
"Bullshit, we're barely adults and none of us are responsible." Sam gets behind the wheel, still laughing softly at his prank.
"Liza and I swept the house and it's clean. While you were out last night and Liza was watching Nightmare Before Christmas, I checked the history of the house. No hauntings, no violent crimes, nothing. Even the dead couple were pretty vanilla."
"He kept pausing Sally's Song to complain about it," Elizabeth says. "I was seriously contemplating whether or not to put him in a headlock before he finally passed out." Dean grunts again, pressing a kiss against the top of her head. He smells good, like leather and Irish Springs soap, so she burrows closer to him until she's practically in his lap. "You smell good."
"You smell pretty good yourself, Liza," Dean says, and she can hear the grin in his voice. "So, Oh Sober One, where to next?"
"Auction house." Dean shifts her until she's looking up at him, a knuckle under her chin to keep her head up. She's tired, her back hurts from the shitty motel bed, and she's in serious need for coffee. He can either let her rest her head against his chest or she can bite his finger off. "All their shit's been cleaned out."
"I hate auction houses. They're full of snobby old dudes that make Bruce Wayne look fun." It's Elizabeth's turn to grunt, shifting impatiently until Dean puts his hand back on her knee so she can rest against him. "Alright, let's get this shit over with. Maybe I can punch someone." The engine rumbles to life and then they're pulling away from the Telesca house, tires moving smoothly along the asphalt.
The drive to Daniel Blake's Auctions and Estates isn't too long, maybe ten minutes after they stop for coffee. When they pull in and get out of the car, it's easy to see that they're going to stick out more than usual. Even the fucking valets are dressed nicer than the hunters and Elizabeth's starting to regret wearing her oversized sweater and shorts.
"Maybe we should've stopped at the motel and put on our fed clothes," Elizabeth says, looking around the packed lot. Even the cars are fancy.
"Too late for that now," Dean says, not looking the least bit awkward. "Come on." She and the boys head inside the auction house, Dean snatching some snack or another off a tray and stuffing it into his mouth. "Silent auctions, estate sales—it's like a garage sale for WASPs if you ask me."
"I got a nice china cabinet from a place like this."
"The one you had to burn because it was haunted by some psycho Texas serial killer?"
"Yeah, but it was still really nice. It came with some cute little teacups that I didn't have to burn." She still has those teacups hidden in the top of her closet as a present for when Lilly graduates high school. There are golden stars in the bottom of them and every child deserves a cup of stars. "I think I got you that signed baseball, too."
"That was a forgery, but I still appreciate it."
"Can I help you," a man asks, nearly making Elizabeth jump out of her skin. She turns to find a man had snuck up behind them; mid-forties, prematurely gray with a stern tilt to his mouth. His suit is nice, but not the same kind of nice as the customers', so this must be Daniel Blake himself.
"Yeah, some champagne would be awesome."
"He's not a waiter," Sam snaps, shaking his head. When he turns back to Daniel, his smile is shy with just a touch of humility. It's the same smile that kept him and Elizabeth from getting grounded after they stumbled back to Bobby's house drunk at three am. "I'm Sam Conners." He holds out a hand, but drops it at Daniel's uninterested sneer. "This is my brother, Dean, and my sister-in-law, Elizabeth. We're art dealers with Conners Limited."
"Art dealers? Sure, and I've got Elvis in cold storage. Gentlemen, Mrs. Conners, this is a private showing and I don't remember seeing you on the guest list."
"They're with me, Mister Blake," another man says. The voice is familiar and then a dark-haired man is stepping into Elizabeth's line of sight. It takes her a moment to place where she knows it, fighting back the phantom taste of tequila and smell of bar smoke.
"My apologies, Mister Knight. I'm just used to your associates being a little less ragged." Luther grins, exposing white canines that look a little too sharp.
"It's no problem at all, Danny. I didn't warn them of the dress code." Daniel murmurs another apology and then he's striding away to glad-hand a few newcomers. When he's out of earshot, Luther glances over at the hunters. "Really? You idiots came to an auction house dressed like that?"
"Yeah, well, shit happens," Elizabeth grumbles. "What are you doing in New York? I thought you were headed to Colorado."
"I'm slowly making my way there. My girlfriend always wanted to see New York, so we made a detour." He shrugs a broad shoulder, dark eyes hidden behind a nice pair of shades. Why he's wearing sunglasses inside is anyone's guess.
"Liza, you know this guy," Dean asks.
"We met in Michigan. You must be the boyfriend she told me about." Dean nods, wrapping an arm around Elizabeth's waist with a hand tight on her hip. She'd be pissed at the sudden possessiveness if it wasn't also turning her on. Fuck, she's got issues. "What brings you three to Daniel's place? Looking for antiques?"
"Working."
"This have anything to do with how the Telescas were murdered?"
"You know them or something?"
"No, I just like to read newspapers. Besides, it's their stuff that's being shown off today and Eliza's a hunter, so I figured you two were as well." He raises his brows expectantly and Dean looks to Elizabeth for confirmation.
"We can trust him," she murmurs, nodding. "Why don't you and Sammy have a look around? I'll fill Luther in."
"Fine, but don't wander off too far," Dean says. He presses a kiss to her cheek and then he and Sam are walking off. Luther turns his arched brows on Elizabeth and she rolls her eyes in fond exasperation.
"We just got done with a tough case that brought up some old memories. He'll go back to normal in a few days." She shrugs, walking slowly through the aisles to look around. "The last time I was surrounded by so much junk, a ghost was trying to melt my brain."
"I can't even tell if you're joking or not," Luther says with a small chuckle.
"I wish I was. I still try to avoid mirrors most days." She's also avoided saying Bloody Mary just in case the ghost is still hanging around somehow. Just thinking of the name makes a vague fear curl in her belly like tendrils of thick, white smoke. "So, what do you know about the Telescas?"
"Just what the paper said, brutal double murder with no sign of a break-in." Elizabeth nods, glancing around so she doesn't have to look at Luther. The guy gives off weird vibes and she doesn't know what to make of him yet. "What's your theory?"
"The boys' dad left us his journal and he's got a few entries in it from this area. It's usually a couple, the murders happen late at night when the doors and windows are locked. Each time the crime scene is cleaned, the peoples' junk goes to an auction house. Not always this one, but whatever caused their murders is obviously around here somewhere."
"Damn, maybe I should start keeping a journal."
"It definitely comes in handy most cases. My dad never kept an actual journal, but he jotted a few things down in various memo pads and I've got them all transferred to a Word document." Luther jerks a little when she mentions her dad, his mouth twisting down into a severe frown, but Elizabeth doesn't comment on it.
"You thinking cursed object?"
"It's our best guess so far, yeah. Maybe a knife or something since the couples always have their throats slit."
"Ouch." They've circled around now, coming to a stop by the boys and a woman. The woman is giving Sam some serious fuck-me eyes and his shy blush is telling Elizabeth that he knows this. He glances at her over the woman's shoulder and Elizabeth gives an approving nod. The woman notices Sam's wavering attention and turns with a picture-perfect smile in place.
"Hi," the woman greets. "I'm Sarah Blake."
"Eliza," Elizabeth says. "I'm Sam's sister and wing woman. You know, he's really shy at first, but he's super tender and—" Sam practically leaps forward to slap his hand over her mouth, letting out a strangled sound of panic. Elizabeth narrows her eyes at him, giving him a clear warning: hand off my mouth or I lick. Sam narrows his eyes in return: lick and I'll sit on you.
"Wow, you really just dive in, don't you?"
"Ignore her, she's been drinking," Sam says quickly.
"I don't know, she might be onto something." Sarah trails her gaze over Sam like she's trying to undress him right here and now. Sam's blush deepens and his hand slips from Elizabeth's mouth all on its own. She ducks away from him and moves over to Dean, getting her first real glimpse at what had first caught her boys' attention.
"Ew, that's ugly," she mumbles.
"Tell me about it," Dean says. "Apparently some dude named Grant Wood painted it because it's totally not a Grandma Moses special." Elizabeth's brows furrow as she glances over at her boyfriend. "What? That's what Sam said." She shakes her head a little, turning back to the portrait. It's not gaudy or anything, all dark colors except for the bone-white pallor of the family's complexions. It's like something from a Tim Burton movie, two adults with three children all squished together on the canvas.
"Someone should burn this on principal."
"I'm with ya there, Liza." The father in the portrait reminds Elizabeth of the Reaper that had chased her a couple months ago, tall and thin with spindly fingers curled over the little girl's shoulder like talons. He's the only one not staring straight ahead, all his attention focused on his daughter.
"We should probably get going," Sam says, tearing Elizabeth's attention away from the painting. "We still need to find a place to crash and I promised my sister a decent cup of coffee." Elizabeth opens her mouth, but Sam steps on her foot without even looking at her. "It was nice meeting you, Sarah."
"Yeah," Sarah says," you, too." Sam practically drags Elizabeth out of the auction house, the other two men following behind with amused smiles. When they make it to the Impala again, Sam lets go and has the audacity to look shocked when Elizabeth stamps down on his toes.
"What was that for?"
"For stepping on my foot," she growls.
"I only stepped on your foot because you keep trying to set me up."
"I only keep trying to set you up because you haven't gotten laid in almost a year and your bitchiness has skyrocketed. You're always easier to deal with after you've had sex." Sam flushes again and he glances away stubbornly. "You really are buying me more coffee now, Samsquatch."
"Oh, shut it."
"Are they always like this," Luther asks.
"They're basically twins," Dean shrugs. "If they didn't argue like a bunch of idiots every now and then, I'd be worried for their mental health. You need a ride to a motel or something?"
"Nah, I can walk. Maybe I'll see you guys around before I head out again." Dean doesn't look too pleased with that idea, but he doesn't say anything negative. Elizabeth counts that as a win. "It was nice seeing you again, Eliza."
"I know," Elizabeth says with a dramatic sigh. "I'm very pretty and people like seeing me." Luther grins and there's something familiar about it that makes Elizabeth's smile dim. She knows that smile from somewhere, but she can't place it. "Well, I'm in need of fresh coffee and Sammy boy promised, so bye."
"See ya." The boys join her in the car and soon enough they're pulling out of the crowded lot, back on cracked asphalt and heading to the local Starbucks.
"So, what was all that jargon about Moses being a painter," Dean asks, glancing over at Sam. "I thought the dude was only famous for parting the Red Sea." Sam snorts, turning his head toward the window to avoid showing his smile.
"I said it wasn't Grandma Moses, dude," Sam says. Dean arches his brows, though his eyes go back to the road. It's good because Elizabeth would be one pissed off ghost if she dies because of art discourse. "I took an art history class in high school so I could date Christa Caldwell."
"Christa Caldwell? The same Christa Caldwell that bullied Liza because of her glasses?" Sam nods and Dean lets out a choked sound of offense on Elizabeth's behalf. "That's just bitchy."
"I had Liza's approval."
"It's true," Elizabeth says, nodding. "I gave him permission to date her in exchange for permission to use his shampoo for a month." She twirls some of her hair with a teasing smile. "They broke up a week later, but my hair looked fantastic."
"We broke up because you tore out some of her hair and her favorite earring."
"I only did that because she told me my glasses went out of style in the 1600s. I have excellent taste in glasses and Christa can suck my dick." Elizabeth pauses, then tilts her head slightly to the right. "Well, if I had a dick. Actually, I wouldn't want her anywhere near my dick. I hear she has crabs."
"She does." Elizabeth looks over at Sam, raising her brows. "Jess stalked her on Myspace." She hums, leaning back in the seat and finishing off her coffee. "She's got a daughter now," Sam adds. "She's really adorable. I'll bet Lilly could kick her ass."
"Lilly could kick anyone's ass if she's had enough sugar. Kid's like a hyperactive cheetah." Dean snorts, pulling into the drive-thru. He orders for all of them and hands over a credit card, then they're pulling back out into traffic and heading for a motel. "I'll get the keys," Elizabeth says as they pull into the lot.
"You're the best."
"Am I? I thought you were too obsessed with stalking Christa."
"I'll sit on you, blondie. Don't tempt me." She rolls her eyes, grabbing a fake ID and credit card out of her box of goodies before heading into the lobby. The decor of black and white tiles and red pleather around the front counter makes her think more of a diner than a motel, but the guy working the desk is totally normal and that's something of a relief.
"Howdy." The man glances up from the desktop, brown eyes drooping slightly from either an excess of pot or just plain exhaustion. Going off the faint skunky smell, she's going with the former. "I need a room with two beds, preferably non-smoking."
"Sure thing. I need an ID and money." She gives him both, tapping her nails against the polished wood. Muffling the smell of old pot is the heady stench of cleaner, maybe Pledge or Pine-Sol, just enough to make her nose burn. "Alrighty, Miss Torrance. You'll be in room twelve down at the left end."
"Thanks." She gives him a pleasant smile before walking out, but her fingers are twitching and she's suddenly craving a peanut butter and banana sandwich. God, she misses drugs. Instead of heading back in and begging for a hit, she goes straight to the car and taps a knuckle against Sam's window.
"You okay," Dean asks, looking her over.
"Peachy-keen. We're in room twelve."
"You sure you're good?"
"I'd be better if you'd stop asking that question." She's off and moving before Dean can say anything, making it to the room right before the Impala pulls up in the empty space. The boys get their luggage out, Sam tossing Elizabeth her duffle before waiting on her to unlock the door. The motel lobby had been a little cheesy but nothing she couldn't handle, the motel room, on the other hand, was something straight out of a Casa Erotica tape or an Austin Powers movie. There's a little martini bar on the left, the black wire dividers boast silver disks made to look like CDs, and there's a goddamn disco ball hanging overhead.
"Groovy," Dean mumbles, shaking his head. "Hey, Sammy, what was that you were saying about providence?"
"Not a damn thing," Sam says. "Sarah and I were talking about the portrait's provenance. It's a certificate of origin, like a portrait's backstory. You use them to track the portrait all the way back to its original owners." What do you know? I learn something new every day on this job.
"Well, I suggest you slap on some cologne, use that shampoo Liza was bragging about, and squeeze your ass into a pair of Wranglers, big guy. Maybe after dinner and dessert, Sarah will write out the portrait's history on some motel stationery."
"What?"
"Don't worry, Liza and I can find something to do. Maybe play a drinking game with her friend Luther."
"You're the one that specializes in hook-ups, Dean."
"And you're the one Sarah was checking out. I'm sure your pride can survive you getting laid. God knows it might knock that stick in your ass loose." Sam squawks, looking far too offended for words. Elizabeth would laugh if she wasn't sure Sam would sit on her again. It's totally unfair that she's so much smaller than him, she's going to lodge a formal complaint after she dies. Lucifer or God, she doesn't care so long as she can be tall in the afterlife.
"Just call her, Sam," Elizabeth says, pulling his phone out of his back pocket.
"No," he states.
"Fine." Elizabeth takes the phone with her into the bathroom, locking the door behind her and ignoring the way it jolts when Sam throws himself against it. She scrolls through the contacts list until she finds Auction Chick and presses call.
"Sarah Blake," Sarah greets on the other end. Sam has stopped trying to get the door open, but only because Dean intervened. She's not sure what's going on out there, but it can't be pretty.
"Hey, Sarah, this is Sam's friend. He's super shy and a little awkward, but he'd love to take you to dinner tonight. Are you free?" There's a beat of silence on Sarah's end and Elizabeth actually grows a little worried until the woman's laughter floats through the speaker.
"Sure thing. Tell him he can pick me up at the auction house at seven."
"You're doing God's work." Elizabeth hangs up and opens the door, pausing to watch as Dean wrenches Sam's arm farther up his back. He's also sitting on Sam's back like he'd tackled him at some point and seeing Sam struggling to get up is funny as hell. "This would only be better if you two were doing this in a swimming pool filled with Jell-O."
"Shut up," Sam growls, kicking his feet.
"You might wanna clean yourself up, Sammy. You're expected at the auction house at seven." She tosses his phone on the table as she passes, settling down on her bed. Dean rises with one last slap to the back of Sam's head, sprinting across the room when Sam starts to rise so he can use Elizabeth as a human shield.
"I'm calling her back and canceling."
"Do that and I'll put your hand in a bowl of warm water while you sleep." She gives him a sharp look when he snorts, all the amusement draining out of him. "Don't tempt me, Sam."
"Just go on a date, get laid, and thank us in the morning," Dean says. Sam makes as if to cross the room and Dean yanks Elizabeth onto his lap for protection. "One more step and I'll throw her at you."
"Throw me and die, Winchester."
"One more step and I'll play ABBA's greatest hits until you leave."
"That's better."
"That's cruel and unusual," Sam says.
"No, cruel and unusual would be calling Cassie and having phone sex while you cower in the bathroom. Actually, that sounds like a pretty good idea. It's been a while."
"Maybe for you," Elizabeth shrugs. "She and I had a nice conversation just last week." Elizabeth's never been one to really enjoy phone sex, but Cassie makes sure it's never boring. Dean makes a sound of betrayal and pushes at her, making her tumble off the bed with a squeal of surprise.
"Dork."
"Geek."
"You're both idiots," Sam calls from the bathroom. Dean and Elizabeth share a look and then they're up and moving, Elizabeth flushing the toilet and then darting out while Dean slams the door closed. Sam gives a squeal of his own, the sound of wet feet slapping tile preceding the door shuddering under Sam's weight. "You bitches! That was low!"
"That was payback, Sammy." Sam gives up after a moment, going back to his shower now that the water's gone back to the right temperature. Elizabeth is tempted to flush the toilet again just to fuck with him, but decides against it. "This is why we work so well together, Dean."
"Because we're petty little shits," he asks.
"Yep."
After Sam leaves for his date, Elizabeth calls Luther and invites him to their motel room with the promise of booze. He and a woman show up fifteen minutes later with their own bottle of Jack. The woman he brings gives off the same weird vibes, dressed like some sort of nineties punk.
"This is Kate," Luther says, gesturing at the woman. "Kate, this is Eliza and Dean." Kate eyes them like they're a meal, even going so far as to lick her lips. To say it's unnerving would be an understatement. "So, what did you two have planned?"
"Getting drunk and watching a movie," Dean shrugs. "Maybe do one of those face masks that Liza's always gushing about." Luther arches his brows, but Kate grins and all the malice in her dark eyes fades away. "I take it you're down for that?"
"I haven't done a face mask in ages," Kate says, making herself comfortable on one of the beds. "Let's do it." Luther shrugs and joins her, settling behind her and taking the bottle from her. Dean and Elizabeth share a look, looking to see how comfortable the other is. In the end, they shrug and curl up on their own bed with a bottle of their own.
"Twister or Pretty Woman," Elizabeth asks, holding up both cases.
"Twister," the other two say in unison.
"Twister it is." Elizabeth gets it to playing and they all settle in, murmuring softly as the movie plays. It's one of Elizabeth's favorites, second only to Mean Girls. She'd wanted to go as Jo one Halloween, but no one had guessed who she was and she ended up going as Baby Spice instead.
"Cow," Dean shouts when it flies past the truck on-screen. "Take a shot, bitches!" Elizabeth winces as the whiskey burns her throat, puckering her lips.
"I don't think I like this game."
"You're just mad 'cause you suck at it, babe." She doesn't elbow him, but it's a close thing. On the other bed, Luther and Kate are giggling and whispering to themselves. They actually look really cute in the same way baby tigers are cute; you wanna pinch their cheeks, but you don't because you know they'd tear your hands off at the wrists.
They move onto Pretty Woman once Twister is over and they're all suitably buzzed halfway through it. Naturally, that's when they break out the face masks. Kate and Elizabeth do their own and then they help Luther and Dean do one, giggling the entire time. Dean keeps fidgeting, scowling as she spreads more of the green goo over the bridge of his nose.
"Do I really have to do this," he whines.
"Totally," Elizabeth nods.
"If I have to suffer, then so do you," Luther confirms. He's got some of the goo in his hair and that sends Elizabeth into another fit of giggles. Luther smiles at the sound, giving her the fond look of fathers everywhere. She'd seen it on Bobby's face a lot when she was little, she'd even seen it on John from time to time.
"How many kids do you have, Luther?" His smile drops away so fast Elizabeth wonders if it was ever there to begin with. He and Kate look at each other for a long moment before they look to Elizabeth again. They look sad and the familiar burn of guilt starts up in her chest. "I'm sorry—"
"I have one kid. I didn't even know about her until this year, though." He tries to shrug it off like it isn't a big deal, but Elizabeth can see the hurt in his eyes. "I tell you what, she looks exactly like her mama. Acts like her, too." His smile is bright again and it softens his hard edges. Elizabeth decides she likes seeing him happy.
"She seems pretty cool," Kate adds. That's the moment Sam decides to return, his goofy, love-struck smile only widening when he gets a good look at all of them.
"Heya, Sammy," Dean says, smiling as well.
"What the hell is on your face, dude," Sam asks, fighting back a laugh. Dean's brows crease as he remembers the face mask, then he's shoving Elizabeth off him and running for the bathroom. "Wait, come back! Bobby'll kill me if I don't get a picture of this!"
"Fuck off!"
"Bobby's already got a picture of Dean in a face mask," Elizabeth says, sprawled out on the floor where Dean had dumped her. "It was bright purple. I think he's got it in his wallet." Sam gives in and laughs until he loses his balance, toppling beside Elizabeth. "So, how'd your date go? Did you have a quickie in the restaurant bathroom?"
"Ew, no. Who does that?"
"Me."
"Us," Luther and Kate echo. Elizabeth grins up at them, liking how in sync they are. She and the boys are like that most of the time, a plus from having been raised alongside each other. Sam rolls his eyes and props himself up on his elbows, watching the bathroom door. Dean walks out a moment later, mask-free and frowning.
"So, how'd your date go," he asks. "Did you have a quickie in the restaurant bathroom?"
"Do you guys just share a list of awkward questions or something," Sam demands. "Liza just asked me the exact same thing." Dean grins as he pulls her up off the floor, kissing her soft and slow. It's purely innocent, his fingers curled lightly around her wrist. She bets he can feel her pulse jump under his fingertips. "There was no sex. I got the provenances, though." Sam holds up a packet of papers he'd had stuffed in his coat pocket.
"What, did you give her a lap dance for them?"
"No, I asked to see them and she was feeling generous." Sam joins them on the bed, ruffling through the papers. Elizabeth can tell the party's over, Buzzkill Sam strikes again.
"I think that's our cue to head out," Luther says, standing up with a grunt. "It was nice seeing all of you again."
"Yeah, same," Elizabeth says, waving. "Maybe next time we're all in the same place we can go out again."
"Sounds good, kid." It's not until Luther and Kate have driven off that Elizabeth realizes there hadn't even been a sway in their step. They'd finished their bottle of Jack and part of Elizabeth's, but they hadn't even slurred their words. Maybe they just have a high tolerance.
"When this is over, we could stick around for a bit," Dean suggests, watching his brother. Sam doesn't look away from his papers, too engrossed in what he's reading. Elizabeth gets like that when she reads The Green Mile, but she can't see provenances being nearly so interesting. "You could take Sarah out again. We could even go on a double date."
"I think I found something," Sam says.
"Your libido," Elizabeth asks. He makes a face at her, kicking out and making her jump against the headboard to escape. "Don't be such a baby."
"Don't be so nosey."
"Alright, tell us what you found," Dean interrupts. He's got the patented Big Brother expression on and that means he'll put them over his knee and spank them if they keep going like this. Honestly, Elizabeth's tempted to push his buttons.
"Portrait of Isaiah Merchant's family, painted 1910."
"Congrats?"
"Grab Dad's journal. I'm gonna read out some names and see if they match." Dean grabs the journal out of the nightstand drawer, opening it up to the right page and nodding for Sam to keep going. "First purchased in 1912 to Peter Sims."
"Peter Sims was murdered in 1912." They keep going all the way through to the seventies, each of the four names matching the ones in John's journal. "Why'd the murders stop, though?"
"Because it was stored until it was donated to a charity auction last month, where the Telescas bought it. So, is it haunted or cursed?"
"I'm sure it'll make nice kindling either way." The boys turn to look at Elizabeth, brows raised expectantly. She's not sure why for a moment and then she's letting out a pitiful whine. "Go wash your face, Liza. We got work to do."
"But I don't wanna," she says, kicking her feet a little. "I just wanna get drunk and quote Julia Roberts."
"Maybe tomorrow night." She groans and slides reluctantly to her feet, shuffling into the bathroom to wash her face. After they destroy that stupid portrait, she's spending a week at a spa and she's not coming out again until her face is as soft as a newborn's ass.
"I fucking hate ghosts!"