My Beautiful Nightmare (Supernatural S1)

1:19 Provenance

I gently sway my body to mid-tempo music. One of my favorite things to do is sit and dance. I'm good at it. I'm great at swaying my body to the tempo of the music. I'm not a big fan of dancing bars, but there's nothing wrong with a bit of change. After all, change makes the world go round—literally and figuratively.

I let out a small chuckle as I took my lemonade drink. Aha, I did a pun. Get it, Ana? Change as in money. Aha.

I set my glass down as I took another look around me. People were everywhere, dancing to the band on stage. The lights were actually really nice—not too flashy—and they nicely helped set the mood the band was aiming for. White, red, blue, and yellow—simple lighting for a simple bar and a simple band.

I look over to the right and see Dean at the bar. I can see him chatting with a girl. Probably trying to get her number. I awkwardly chuckle to myself as I take another drink of my lemonade. I take a sip of the sweet lemon and place my glass down. I exhale and give my head one slight shake. 

It's been hard. I know Dean and I had talked about wanting things to go back to normal, and part of normal meant him being able to flirt and hit up girls he sees when we are crossroads. Nowadays, I encourage it—just to show that I'm moving past the whole awkwardness, but that doesn't mean I don't feel some kind of way.

He takes out his phone and begins punching in a number. He stops long enough to look over at me and smile. I raise my glass in the form of a toast.

I look over to my left and I see Sam hunched over the table, reading John's journal along with a couple of newspaper.

"What are you doing there?" I ask, turning my entire body to face him.

Ignoring my question, he responds with a different answer. "I think I got something." Looking down at the newspaper, he gestures for me to come closer to him. I dragged my seat next to him and read what he was showing me.

"Couple's throats slashed in their own home." I read aloud. "Have you called---"

My own sentence was cut off by my sudden realization that Dean had already made his way over to the table. Sam beat me to it.

"I got something," Sam announced as Dean placed two beers on the table.

"I did too." Smiled Dean, filling in the last empty chair at the table. Dean glanced back at the bar to get another look at the girl he was talking to. "I think we should take shore leave. Just for a little bit. I'm so in the door with this one here." I followed Dean's finger and pointed at the brunette with the green and black laced tank top.

"By the way, Sam. She's got a friend."

Sam lets out a chuckle and a slight head shake, "No thanks, Dean. I can find my own dates."

"You can but you don't," I say, lifting up my glass of lemonade to my mouth.

"What's that supposed to mean?" He asks defensively.

"Nothing," I say, placing my drink down. "Show Dean what you've got."

"Mark and Ann Telesca of the New Paltz, New York, were both found dead in their home just a few days ago." Informed Sam, reading off the newspaper. "Throats were slit, no forced entry, no murder weapon--- Dean."

I could tell Dean did not care much about what Sam said. His stare had wandered off back to the raunchy brunette at the bar.

"Dean," I called. Dean quickly whipped his back in our direction.

"Continue."He said, taking a drink of his beer.

"Dad," Began Sam. "Had noted three murders in the same area of upstate New York. First one in 1912, then in 1945, and lastly in 1970. The same M.O. Throats were slit. Doors locked from the inside."