SINCE YOU'VE BEEN GONE

n a Motel Room, Elena stirs in her sleep. She was having the most lucid dream. Elena was walking to a big tree that someone was standing under. She couldn't tell who it was because she was far away, but she kept walking.

Once she got closer, she realized that it was Sam. His back was turned to her. "Sam?" She asked out loud. Her voice seemed to echo.

He turned around and smiled at her, with a picnic basket in her hands. "Hey, come sit with me." Sam says.

Elena smiles and sat down on a picnic blanket. "What's this for?" She asks.

"For us." Sam says and Elena looks at him. "I just thought we needed this, since Dean isn't here."

"Sounds great to me." Elena says and begins eating a tuna sandwich. She begins eating the sandwiches, not paying any mind to Sam. For some reason, they didn't really have a taste.

"Elena." Sam says and she looked up. She gasped.

"What the...?" She says.

Sam was Sam, but he had the weirdest color of eyes. They were a bright red. "Hello, Katherine." Elena backed away from him and when she looked up, the scenery had changed. The big beautiful tree had changed to an ominous one with no leaves and was nearly dead.

"Who are you?!" She asked.

"You need to remember." It says as it places two fingers in her forehead. A big burst of light came and Elena soon found herself in the Motel Room. Dean and Sam were still fast asleep.

"Oh my god." She says. "I remember." She says to herself.

Elena quickly got out of bed and put her clothes on. After she was done, she found a piece of paper and began writing on it. After that, she grabbed all of her things and opened the door. Before she left, she looked back at the boys and smiled sadly. She turned back outside and left. This was the only way to protect them.

he camera pans over an old painting of an historical family and then back to reveal a young couple in formal attire in their lounge room. A Man adjusts the frame. "Okay, right about there." He says.

"I can't believe we actually bought this thing." The Woman giggles.

"There's a reason charity auctions have an open bar." He says.

They stare at it for a moment. "Don't you think...I don't know, it's kinda creepy?" The Woman says.

The Man fondles her back and pulling down the zip of her dress. "Its okay, I'll keep you safe." He says.

"Maybe you're the one I oughta be scared of?" She says. They kiss. "Let's go upstairs."

"Give me two minutes to lock up." He says. She kisses him lingeringly. "Give me one minute."

He pinches her behind, she squeals and runs upstairs. The eyes of the father in the painting follow her, then his head turns to watch the man lock up. The man looks around as if he hears a noise, then continues to key the security code in.

Camera show Point of View of someone moving slowly up the stairs. "If you don't hurry up I'm gonna start without you!" She yells from upstairs.

A shadow appears in the bedroom doorway, she smiles. A gust of wind blows out her bedside candle. The man moves up the stairs, undoing his trousers. He enters the darkened room.

"Babe, get the lights. I can't see a thing." He throws his shirt aside and kneels on the bed. There is a squishing noise. "You spill something?" He leans to turn on the bedside lamp. His hand is dripping with blood. "Ann?" She is lying on the bed covered in blood, eyes open and staring. "Ann? ANN!"

He falls backwards onto the floor, freaking out. A shadow appears over him. He turns to look and begins screaming.

[ ☼ ]

am sits on the bed, staring at the letter Elena had written. When Dean and Sam woke up, Elena was gone. She had managed to write a paper explaining only what she knew.

Dear Sam,

I know this is probably the last thing you want to hear right now. Especially at this time. But I remember who I really am. I left because I wanted to know that you guys were safe.

If I was with you guys, then harm would be put in your way and I couldn't have that in my conscience. I'm sorry, but this is the last you will hear from me. I wish we'd have had more time.

Sam stares at the letter longer, then throws it on the nightstand by the beds. "Why would she do this?" Sam asks.

"It's like she said, she wanted to keep us safe." Dean says. "Which is stupid if you ask me."

"We should be protecting her. She's all alone in this. We could help." Sam says.

Dean looks at him. "I think what she would've wanted was for us to continue on with our lives." He says.

Sam gets up off the bed and puts his coat on. "Yeah." He says.

"How bout we go to a bar. You know, find some ladies to take home?" Dean offers.

"Whatever." Sam mumbles and leaves out of the Motel Room. Dean follows behind, shaking his head.

[ ☾]

ean and a young woman lean close together at the bar. "Seven, Four, Two Zero." She says.

Dean keys it into his phone. "Seven, Four, Two, Zero. All right, you're in there. Perfect. So is that Brandy with a 'y' or an 'i'?" He asks.

Sam sits at a table strewn with papers. He 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?" Dean says to the Woman.

He approaches Sam, holding two beers. "All right, I think we got something." Sam says.

Dean glances back at the bar. "Oh yeah, me too. I think we need to take a little short leave, just a little bit. What do you think, huh? I'm so in the door with this one." He says.

"So what are we today Dean? I mean, are we rock stars, are we army rangers?" Sam asks.

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?" Dean asks.

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

"Yeah you can but you don't." Dean says. "Especially not after...you know..."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Sam asks.

"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..." Sam starts. Dean is distracted, continuing to check out women in the bar. "Dean!..No prints, no murder weapons, all doors and window locked from the inside."

Dean drinks his beer. "Could just be a garden variety murder you know, not our department." He says.

"No. Dad says different." Sam says.

"What do you mean?" Dean asks.

!Sam points at map. "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." He says.

"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.

"Yeah."

Dean heads back to the bar. "Good."

"Dean..." Sam says.

"Ladies...did you miss me?" Dean says to the two girls at the bar.

"Well yeah." Brandy says.

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

"Great. Cool." They say. Sam sniggers.

n the early morning, Dean sleeps slouched in the passenger seat of the Impala, sunglasses on. Sam walks around the car, leans in and honks the horn. Dean jumps a foot. Sam sits in the drivers seat, laughing.

Dean adjusts his sunglasses and mumbles. "Man, that is so not cool." He says.

"I just swept the Telescas with EMF. It's clean. And last night, while you were...well...out..." Sam starts.

Dean smirks. "Good times." He says.

"I checked the history of the house. Nothing strange about the Telescas." Sam says.

"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 offers.

"The house is clean." Sam says.

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

"No, I mean it's empty. No furniture, nothing."

"Where's all their stuff?" Dean asks.

[ ☼ ]

he camera pans across a line of expensive cars, Including one with the number plate "The Krip" and ending on a dust covered Impala.

It pans up to show upper class people mingling. Classical violin music plays. Sam and Dean wander around, looking out of place in their casual, rough clothing. Dean takes finger food from a tray. One man especially watches them pass then excuses himself from his companion and moves toward them.

"Consignment auctions, estate sales. Looks like a garage sale for Wasps if you ask me." Dean takes more food from a tray on a table as the man moves up behind them.

"Can I help you gentlemen?" The Man asks.

Dean looks him up and down and then puts more food in his mouth. "I'd like some champagne please." He says.

"He's not a waiter." Sam says. Dean cocks an eyebrow. Sam holds out his hand to the man. "I'm Sam Connors."

The Man just looks at him, not moving. Sam moves the hand he's holding out to point at Dean. "That's my brother Dean. We're art dealers, with Connors Limited."

"You. Are...art dealers." The Man says.

"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." Daniel says.

"We're there Chuckles, you just need to take another look." Dean says. A waiter goes past with drinks on a tray. "Oh. Finally." He swipes away a champagne glass.

Dean turns back to Daniel, sniffs the glass, raises his eyebrows then turns and walks away. Sam hastily follows, shooting Dean dirty looks.

"Cheers." Dean says. Sam and Dean check out the items for auction and are drawn to the painting of the family.

"A fine example of American Primitive wouldn't you say?" A Woman says.

Sam and Dean turn to see a sleek, classy, extremely good looking young woman in a black dress coming down a spiral staircase. They both stare at her as she turns her back while taking the final part of the stairs.

Sam turns back to look at the painting again and Dean, oogling, slaps Sam on the back and continues staring.

"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 says.

"Guilty. And clumsy. I apologize. I'm Sarah Blake." She says.

"I'm Sam. This is my...brother, Dean." Sam says.

Dean continues to stuff his face from passing trays. "Dean. Can we get you some more mini-quiche?" She asks.

"I'm good, thanks." Dean says, still chewing.

Sarah turns to Sam. "So, can I help you with something?" She asks.

"Yeah, actually. What can you tell us about the Telesca estate?" Sam says.

"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." Sarah says.

"Is it possible to see the provenances?" Sam asks.

Daniel Blake comes from behind them. "I'm afraid there isn't any chance of that." He says.

"Why not?" Sam asks.

"You're not on the guest list. And I think it's time to leave." He says.

Dean puts on his posh voice again. "Well we don't have to be told twice." He says.

"Apparently you do."

"Okay. It's all right. We don't want any trouble. We'll go." Sam says. Dean raises his eyebrows and walks off. Sam and Sarah exchange a long look before he follows.

"Dad that was just rude." Sarah says.

[ ☼ ]

am and Dean approach a room. "Grant Wood, Grandma Moses?" Dean asks.

"Art history course. It's good for meeting girls." Sam says.

Dean unlocks the door. "It's like I don't even know you." He says to Sam.

They enter the room, the camera stays on the back of the door as it closes. The do not disturb door hanger is a silver outline of John Travolta from Saturday Night Fever.

Disco music accompanies the camera as it pans across a totally over the top retro 70s disco fantasy room. The boys look from one side of the room to the other and pause. "Huh." They both say.

They move into the room, dumping their bags. "What was...providence?" Dean asks.

"Prov-e-nance. 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." Sam says.

"Huh. Well, we're not getting anything out of Chuckles, but Sarah..." Dean snaps his fingers at Sam, smirking.

"Yeah, maybe you can get her to write it all down on a cocktail napkin." Sam says.

"Not me." Dean says.

"No no no, pick ups are your thing" Sam says. "Dean."

"It wasn't my butt she was checking out." Dean says.

They exchange a look. "In other words, you want me to use her to get information." Sam says.

"Sometimes you gotta take one for the team. Call her."

[ ☼ ]

am and Sarah sit at a table. "Nice place." Sam says.

"Yeah." Sarah agrees. There is a long awkward pause. "Glad you called. Surprised, but glad." She says.

"Yeah?" Sam asks.

"Although you seemed to have a hard time getting out the words 'Would you like to have dinner'." She says.

"Ahh...yeah. I haven't really been on a date in a while." Sam says.

"Welcome to the club."

Sam is surprised. "You're kidding me." He says.

"Here we are. The wine list." A Waiter says. Sam looks totally uncomfortable, flipping pages randomly.

Sarah turns to the Waiter. "I don't know about Romeo here but I'll have a beer." She says.

"And you?" The Waiter asks Sam.

Sam smiles. "Make that two." He answers.

ater, Sam and Sarah are laughing , having a great time. "So you studied art in school huh?" Sam asks.

"It's true. I was an artist. A terrible terrible artist. And that's why I'm in the auction business. And you were pre-law?" Sarah asks.

"Yeah."

"But you didn't go to law school. How come?" Sarah asks.

"Ahh, that's a really really long story for another time." Sam says.

"You're not like any art dealer I've ever met." Sarah says.

They exchange another long look. "So, what did you mean when you said you haven't been on a date in a while. Trying to make me feel like I'm not such a loser?" Sam asks.

"I'm sure you're many things Sam. I'm also sure loser isn't one of them." Sarah says. More long looks exchanged. "It was my Mom. She died bout a year ago. Totally unexpected. It really threw me. I went into this shell. A nice warm safe shell. But lately I've been thinking. It's not what she would have wanted for me. So..." More long looks. "So what about you? You're a reasonably attractive guy."

Sam laughs, embarrassed. "Reasonably?" He asks.

"Why haven't you been out and about." Sarah asks. Sam thinks, looks at her, loses his smile, thinks some more.

"Another long story for another time." Sam nods slowly. ...