Rewrite Of Supernatural Series: Season 1

Provenance - Part 2.

Packing subsumed the motel.

While Sam and B/F kept their surroundings clean, you and Dean tended to be messy - not in a way that you couldn't pack quick. It was usually food containers, and towels, things that didn't need to be packed were fanned out in places.

You were collecting weapons after having put your clothes in whichever bag you got your hands on first: Dean's or yours.

'So, what's the story?' B/F suddenly asked. You gave her the raise of questioning brow for elaboration.

'You and Dean's bags,' she clarified. 'Your bag is black - very original, by the way, colour-coded to your outfit,' she rolled her eyes. 'But his is beige. And I know for a fact you two aren't colour blind.'

Sam put a balled up a shirt into his bag. 'Nams and I just thought it was signs of having humoungous crushes.'

You scoffed. 'Please. We were thirteen when we started doing it.'

'Exactly,' he said, unbothered. You rolled your eyes.

'Well, you're wrong,' you said. 'You were nine, and just starting to really get into books. You insisted to carry them all with you. John disapproved because he believed in travelling light. He didn't want it all up in his trunk. So, we hid your books in my duffel. After one point, there were so many that I had to shift my clothes in Dean's.'

'Oh,' Sam looked like he didn't know what to do with that information. But you shrugged it off like a no big deal.

'Namie's obsession for languages just added to it later. Even when we hustled ourselves a new bag, Dean and I just never went back - now, that could be a sign,' you contemplated.

'That's sad, whore,' B/F said.

'I thought it was sweet,' you crossed your arms.

'You're looking for the word "sad",' she countered.

Your retort was quelled by Dean's announcement. 'We got a problem,' he hurried out of the bathroom where he'd been rattling stuff around for the last five minutes, 'I can't find my wallet.' He checked his packed bag again.

'How's that our problem?' Sam sassed.

''Cause I think I dropped it in the warehouse last night,' he answered, heading to the bar where his jacket was hung, he slides it over his flannel. He threw you your jacket, and you caught it, getting up yourself with a sigh. You pocketed your own wallet, and your gun was already snug, tucked into your shorts.

'You're kidding, right?' B/F put hands on her hips, fully dressed to leave already.

'It's got my prints,' Dean added to urgency. 'My ID, well, my fake ID anyway but we gotta get it before somebody else finds it. Come on!'

Sam slammed the cloth he was holding onto the bed as a tantrum.

#*~*#

At least the gate was open.

'How do you lose your wallet, Dean?' Sam said, scoldingly, entering the auction behind you with B/F on his tail.

Dean shrugged, taking the left.

'It's clumsy, even for you,' you said, going further down to the right. B/F split upstairs for a looksie. Sam went straight.

You were opening drawers of furnitures, ruffling the accessory flowers in the decorative pots, displacing things.

'Hey, guys!' a sweet voice interrupted your frenzy. Your heart jumped up a little, and you straightened in front of a weird old cabinet, a vase in your hand that you ended up hugging because you forgot where it went. Sam replaced the huge white square-shaped stone in his hand, and did a one-eighty on the smooth floor.