ᴛʜᴇ ᴡɪɴᴄʜᴇꜱᴛᴇʀ'ꜱ||ꜱᴜᴘᴇʀɴᴀᴛᴜʀᴀʟ

ᴘʀᴏᴠᴇɴᴀɴᴄᴇ (ᴘᴛ 1)

Dean and a young woman lean close together at the bar.

"Seven, Four, Two, Zero"

"Seven, Four, Two, zero," Dean says, keying into his phone. "All right, you're in there. Perfect. So is that Brandy with a 'y' or an 'i'?" Sam sits at a table strewn with papers. Sam gestures to Dean, who gives him a 'wait' gesture as he laughs at something the woman whispers. Sam gestures again, and Dean's smile drops.

"All right, listen, I gotta go. Hold that thought, I'll be right back, okay?" He approaches Sam, holding three beers.

"Where's Y/N?" Sam asks. Dean gestures to the pool table, and they see Y/N playing a game with a man with a stubble beard and curly brown hair.

"Oi! Y/N," Dean shouts, and she looks over. "Come over." She nods and pots the black ball.

"I win," she says, winking at him as she passes him. She goes over to Sam and Dean.

"All right, I think we got something," Dean 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?" Y/N asks, making Dean grin.

"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? And Y/N already found someone." They look at her as she glances over at the man she was playing pool with. He winks at her, and she smiles at him. She then snaps her attention back to her brothers.

"What?"

"Dean, no thanks, I can get my own dates."

"Yeah, you can but you don't."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing. What you got?" Dean asks.

"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..." Dean is distracted, continuing to check out women in the bar. Y/N keeps sneaking glances at the man she was with.

"Guys! No prints, no murder weapons, all doors and windows locked from the inside." Dean drinks his beer.

"Could just be a garden variety murder, you know, not our department."

"No. Dad says different."

"What do you mean?" Y/N asks. Sam points at a map.

"Dad noted three murders in the same area of upstate New York. The first one here in 1912, the 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 till first thing though, right?"

"Yeah."

"Good," Dean says, heading back to the bar.

"Dean..."

"Ladies...did you miss me?"

"Well yeah," Brandy says.

"I'm just kidding. Listen, I talked to my producers, and it is looking good."

"Great. Cool," Sam sniggers. He looks over at Y/N only to see she's not in front of him. He looks back over at the pool table and sees her sitting with the man, drinking a beer together and laughing. Sam huffs a laugh.