Little Winchester: Book One (Supernatural Fanfiction)

Provenance

It only took a couple days before I felt and looked normal. It was another week until they found a case and I woke up in the back of the Impala due Sam was opening the passenger side door. I sat up and sent him a look, "Dean wanted to get a few drinks," he excused as he closed his door. "Where were you?" Sam turned his head, "I was just in there to find a case," he excused as he put his laptop bag in the back with me. I sighed and pulled my blanket back over me to go back to sleep. I was to tired to deal with this right now. Sam left the bar after he saw Dean leave, or that's what he told me at least, and we went to the motel to sleep for the rest of the night. Sam woke me up early the next morning to go sleep in the Impala because he needed to check out the house. We found Dean asleep in the car wearing the sunglasses he kept in the glove box. I was startled awake due to Sam laying on the horn, "Man, that is so not cool," Dean muttered as Sam laughed, climbing into the car. "I just swept the Telescas with EMF. It's clean. And last night, while you were....well...out..." Sam informed. I groaned as Dean said, "Good times." I could still be sleeping right now. "I checked the history of the house. Nothing strange about the Telescas," Sam continued, ignoring Dean's remark. " 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," Dean concluded as he took off the glasses and sat up. I pulled my blanket over my head, "The house is clean," Sam repeated. "Yeah I know, you said that," Dean grumbled as he opened the glove compartment, probably to put the glasses back. "No, I mean it's empty. No furniture, nothing," Sam explained. Dean sounded confused, "Where's all their stuff?" Why couldn't I have been left in the motel for this?

An auction house. A very fancy auction house was where all their stuff was. It was full of interesting things, but I knew I couldn't have any of it. Which was boring. I could hear classical music playing as the door opened. We aimlessly wandered around, Dean kept taking food from the waiters walking around. I couldn't help but notice at how badly we stuck out. "Consignment auctions, estate sales. Looks like a garage sale for Wasps if you ask me," Dean was going on as he took more food from a tray. A man walked away from who he was talking to and over to us, "Can I help you gentlemen?" he asked. Dean observed him for a moment, "I'd like some champagne please," Dean requested, using a fancy person voice from a movie I saw once. Sam shot him a look, "He's not a waiter." Dean raised an eyebrow as Sam extended his hand to the man, "I'm Sam Connors," Sam introduced. The man ignored his hand, rude. Sam pointed to Dean, "That's my brother Dean and our little sister Christina. We're art dealers, with Connors Limited," Sam informed, not taking offense. "You are...art dealers," it sounded like a question. "That's right," Sam confirmed, it seemed to please the man. "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," he commented. "We're there chuckles, you just need to take another look," whhy couldn't Dean keep his mouth shut? A waiter walked past as he finished his sentence, Dean swiped a glass from it, "Oh, finally," Dean commented as he sniffed the glass before walking off. Sam picked me up and followed after giving a small, "Cheers," before following after Dean to look at the items for sale. There was a picture they were focused on in particular, "A fine example of American Primitive wouldn't you say?" a woman from behind asked. She was wearing a black dress and coming down a spiral staircase. She was very pretty. Sam glanced back at the painting, "Well I'd say it's more Grant Wood than Grandma Moses. But you knew that, you just wanted to see if I did," Sam concluded, giving her a sly look. "Guilty. And clumsy. I apologize. I'm Sarah Blake," she confessed. "I'm Sam. This is my....brother, Dean and my little sister Christina," Sam introduced us again. Dean grabbed more food from a passing waiter and handed me a piece, it was just a vienna sausage and a piece of cheese stabbed on a toothpick. This was fancy people food? "Dean. Can we get you some more mini-quiche?" she asked, looking slightly amused. "I'm good, thanks," Dean answered, still chewing his food. "So, can I help you with something?" Sarah asked, directing it towards Sam. "Yeah, actually. What can you tell us about the Telesca estate?" Sam requested as she stopped beside us to look at the piece. "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," she told us. "Is it possible to see the provenances?" Sam asked as Dean grabbed more food, I was tempted to slap him in the stomach, but he'd probably throw up. "I'm afraid there isn't any chance of that," the man from earlier butted in as he walked up behind us. "Why not?" Sam asked, turning towards him. "You're not on the guest list. And I think it's time to leave," the wording sounded like a request, but the tone didn't. Dean used his fancy people voice again, "Well we don't have to be told twice." The man didn't sound amused, "Apparently you do," his tone was full of distaste. "Okay. It's all right. We don't want any trouble. We'll go," Sam said as he picked me up. Dean walked off, but Sam stayed for a moment to apologize for Dean before following after. "Dad that was just rude," I heard Sarah complain as we walked off.