01x19 - Provenance

1.19 Provenance

Air Date: 13 Apr 2006


The 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.

Man: (adjusting the frame) Okay, right about there.

Woman: (Giggling) I can't believe we actually bought this thing.

Man: There's a reason charity auctions have an open bar.

They stare at it for a moment.

Woman: Don't you think...I don't know, it's kinda creepy?

Man: (fondling her back and pulling down the zip of her dress) Its okay, I'll keep you safe.

Woman: Maybe you're the one I oughta be scared of?

They kiss.

Woman: Let's go upstairs.

Man: Give me two minutes to lock up.

She kisses him lingeringly.

Man: 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.

Woman: (From upstairs) If you don't hurry up I'm gonna start without you!

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.

Man: 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.

Man: You spill something?

He leans to turn on the bedside lamp. His hand is dripping with blood.

Man: Ann?

She is lying on the bed covered in blood, eyes open and staring.

Man: Ann? ANN!

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

END Teaser



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

Woman: Seven, Four, Two Zero.

Dean: (Keying into his phone) Seven, Four, Two, Zero. 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. 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.

Dean: All right, listen, I gotta go. Hold that thought, I'll be right back, okay?

He approaches Sam, holding two beers.

Sam: All right, I think we got something.

Dean: (Glancing 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.

Sam: So what are we today Dean? I mean, are we rock stars, are we army rangers?

Dean: (Grinning) 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?

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

Dean: Yeah you can but you don't.

Sam: What is that supposed to mean?

Dean: Nothing. What you got?

Sam: 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.

Sam: Dean!... No prints, no murder weapons, all doors and window locked from the inside.

Dean: (drinking his beer) Could just be a garden variety murder you know, not our department.

Sam: No. Dad says different.

Dean: What do you mean?

Sam: (pointing 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.

Dean: 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?

Sam: Yeah.

Dean: (Heading back to the bar) Good.

Sam: Dean...

Dean: Ladies...did you miss me?


Well yeah.

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


Great. Cool.

Sam sniggers.



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: (adjusting his sunglasses and mumbling) Man, that is so not cool.

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


(smirking) Good times.

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

Dean: 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.

Sam: The house is clean.

Dean: Yeah I know, you said that.

Sam: No, I mean it's empty. No furniture, nothing.

Dean: Where's all their stuff?



The 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.

Dean: 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.

Man: Can I help you gentlemen?

Dean looks him up and down and then puts more food in his mouth.

Dean: (Putting on a posh voice) I'd like some champagne please.

Sam: (Sharply to Dean) He's not a waiter.

Dean cocks an eyebrow. Sam holds out his hand to the man.

Sam: I'm Sam Connors.

The Man just looks at him, not moving. Sam moves the hand he's holding out to point at Dean.

Sam: That's my brother Dean. We're art dealers, with Connors Limited.

Man: You. Are...art dealers.

Sam: That's right.

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.

Dean: We're there Chuckles, you just need to take another look.

A waiter goes past with drinks on a tray.

Dean: (Swiping a glass) Oh. Finally.

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

Sam: (To Blake) Cheers.

Sam and Dean ceck out the items for auction and are drawn to the painting of the family.

Woman: I fine example of American Primitive wouldn't you say?

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.

Sam: Well I'd say it's more Grant Wood than Grandma Moses. But you knew that, you just wanted to see if I did.

Woman: Guilty. And clumsy. I apologize. I'm Sarah Blake.

Sam: I'm Sam. This is my...brother, Dean.

Dean continues to stuff his face from passing trays.

Sarah: Dean. Can we get you some more mini-quiche?

Dean: (Chewing) I'm good, thanks.

Sarah: (To Sam) So, can I help you with something?

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

Sarah: 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.

Sam: Is it possible to see the provenances?


(Coming up behind) I'm afraid there isn't any chance of that.

Sam: Why not?


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

Dean: (Putting on his posh voice again) Well we don't have to be told twice.


Apparently you do.

Sam: Okay. It's all right. We don't want any trouble. We'll go.

Dean raises his eyebrows and walks off. Sam and Sarah exchange a long look before he follows.

Sarah: Dad that was just rude.



Sam and Dean approach a room.

Dean: Grant Wood, Grandma Moses?

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

Dean: (unlocking the door) It's like I don't even know you.

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.

Sam and Dean: (Together) Huh.

They move into the room, dumping their bags.

Dean: What was...providence?

Sam: 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.

Dean: Huh. Well, we're not getting anything out of Chuckles, but Sarah...

Dean snaps his fingers at Sam, smirking.

Sam: (Smirking back) Yeah, maybe you can get her to write it all down on a cocktail napkin.

Dean: (Laughing) Not me.

Sam: No no no, pick ups are your thing Dean.

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

They exchange a look.

Sam: In other words, you want me to use her to get information.

Dean: Sometimes you gotta take one for the team. Call her.



Sam and Sarah sit at a table.

Sam: Nice place.

Sarah: Yeah.

There is a long awkward pause.

Sarah: Glad you called. Surprised, but glad.

Sam: Yeah?

Sarah: Although you seemed to have a hard time getting out the words "Would you like to have dinner".

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

Sarah: Welcome to the club.

Sam: (Surprised) You're kidding me.


Here we are. The wine list.

Sam looks totally uncomfortable, flipping pages randomly.

Sarah: (To the waiter) I don't know about Romeo here but I'll have a beer.


(to Sam) And you?

Sam: (Smiling) Make that two.



Sam: So you studied art in school huh?

Sarah: 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?

Sam: Yeah.

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

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

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

They exchange another long look.

Sam: 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?

Sarah: I'm sure you're many things Sam. I'm also sure loser isn't one of them.

More long looks exchanged.

Sarah: (Slowly) 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.

Sarah: So what about you? You're a reasonably attractive guy.

Sam: (laughing, embarassed) Reasonably?

Sarah: Why haven't you been out and about.

Sam thinks, looks at her, loses his smile, thinks some more.

Sarah: (Watching him) Another long story for another time.

Sam nods slowly.



Dean is sharpening his blade on a whetstone, Sam is looking through some papers.

Dean: So she just handed the providences over to you.

Sam: Provenances.

Dean: (Haltingly) Provenances?

Sam: Yes. We went back to her place, I got a copy of the papers...

Dean: And?

Sam: And nothing. That's it, I left.

Dean: You didn't have to con her or do any...special favors or anything like that?

Sam: Dean would you get your mind out of the gutter please?

Dean: (Laughing) You know when this whole thing's done we could stick around for a little bit.

Sam: Why.

Dean: So you could take her out again. Obviously you're into her, even I can see that.

Sam: Hey, I think I've got something here.

Dean comes over, Sam hands him the papers.

Dean: (Reading) "Portrait of Isaiah Merchant's family, painted 1910."

Sam: Now compare the names of the owners with Dad's journal.

Dean: (checking against the journal) First purchased in 1912 by Peter Simms. Peter Simms murdered 1912. Same thing in 1945. Oh, Same in 1970.

Sam: Then stored, until it was donated to a charity aucton last month. Where the Telescas bought it. What do you think, it's haunted? Cursed?

Dean: (Getting up) Either way, it's toast.



Heavy rock music plays as Dean leaps and easily scales the metres high metal gates and sprints into the mist.

Dean: Come on!

Sam follows.

Sam, wearing gloves, disarms the security alarm.

Sam: Go ahead.

Dean, also with gloves, picks the lock.

They shine their flashlights around inside, quickly searching for the painting. Dean spies it upstairs and they sprint up the spiral staircase. Holding his flashlight in his mouth, Dean flicks his switchblade and cuts the painting from it's frame. They're in and out within a couple of minutes. The whole scene screams expertise and many years of breaking and entering.



The painting lays on the dirt, Sam holding the flashlight as Dean readies the matches.

Dean: Ugly ass thing. If you ask me we're doing the art world a favor.

He drops the match and the painting ignites. As it burns the camera switches back to the auction house and we see the painting reforming in the frame.




Dean: (Rushing in from the bathroom) We got a problem, I can't find my wallet.

Sam: (packing his duffel) How is that my problem.

Dean: Cause I think I dropped it in the warehouse last night.

Sam: (Horrified)You're kidding right?

Dean: No. It's got my prints, my ID, well my fake ID anyway. We gotta get it before someone else finds it. Come on.



Sam and Dean hurry around, looking everywhere.

Sam: (Frustrated) How do you lose your wallet Dean!

Dean throws his hands in the air and keeps looking.

Sarah walks in and sees them.

Sarah: (Smiling) Hey guys!

They both spin around, then try and act cool.

Sam: Sarah! Hey.

Sarah: What are you doing here?

Sam: Ahh, we...we are leaving town and we came to say goodbye.

Dean: (Strolling over) What are you talking about Sam, we're here for another day or two.

Sam looks at Dean, confused.

Dean: (Getting his wallet out of his pocket) Oh, Sam. By the way. I'm gonna go ahead and give you that $20 I owe you. (to Sarah) I always forget, you know.

Sam looks at him, disbelieving.

Dean: (Holding out the cash, smiling) There you go.

Sam snatches the cash from Dean, glaring at him.

Dean: (To Sarah) Well I'll leave you two crazy kids alone, I gotta go do something...somewhere.

Dean leaves quickly.

Sam: (Awkwardly) So...

Sarah: I had a good time last night.

Sam: Yeah yeah I did too.

Sarah: Maybe we should do it again sometime.

Sam: You know. I'd love to, I really would, but Dean, he was just screwing around. We really are taking off today.

Sarah: Oh. Oh well that's too bad.

Sam: (Seeing the painting being carried past) OH MY GOD!

Sarah: (Jumping and turning to look) What?

Sam: The...that painting...looks so good!

Sarah: If you can call that monstrocity good then...yeah.

Sam: Sarah...what do you know about that painting?

Sarah: Not much, just that it creeps me out. We sold it to the Telescas at a charity auction the night they were murdered.

Sam: (raising his voice) Yeah, and now you're just going to sell it again?

Sarah: As much as my Dad wants to, no, I won't let him. I think it would be in bad taste.

Sam: Good. You know what? Don't. Make sure you don't, okay?

Sarah: Why? Don't tell me you're interested in that?

Sam: (Flustered and backing up) No. No God, no. Not in buying it no. You know what, I gotta go, I gotta take care of something. But umm, I will call you back...I will call you, I'll see you later.

Sarah: Wait, so you're...not leaving tonight?

Sam: I guess not. I'll see ya.

Sarah: (looking after him, confused). O...kay.


INT. Impala.

Sam: I don't understand Dean, we burned the damn thing.

Dean: Yeah, thank you Captain Obvious. All right, we just need to figure out another way to get rid of it. Any ideas?

Sam: Okay, All right. Well, in almost all the lore about haunted paintings it's always the painting's subject that haunts them.

Dean: Yeah. So we just need to figure out everything there is to know about that creepy-ass family and that creepy-ass painting. What were their names again?




You said the Isaiah Merchant family right?

Sam: Yeah that's right.

Dean approaches, smiling and flicking through an old book with pictures of guns.


(Laying a huge book of newspaper clippings the table) I dug up every scrap of local history I could find. So are you boys crime buffs?

Dean: Kinda. Yeah. Why do you ask?



He holds up a newspaper article.

The lead story on the front page is "New Titanic Sinks, 1304 People Go To Watery Graves: Only 866 saved from 2,170 Aboard Liner Which Collides With Iceberg. Disaster Proves To Be the Greatest in Marine History of the World." (See other SPN Titanic reference in the trivia section of this episode)

He points at a side article. It reads 'Father Slaughters Family, Kills Himself'.

Dean: Yes. Yeah, that sounds about right.

Sam: The whole family was killed?


It seems this Isaiah, he slits his kids throats, then his wife, them himself. Now he was a barber by trade. Used a straight razor.

Sam: Why'd he do it?


Let's look. Ahh...(begins reading) "People who knew him describe Isaiah as having a stern and harsh temperament. Controlled his family with an iron fist. Wife, two sons, adopted daughter..."

He skims on...


Yeah yeah yeah..."There were whispers that the wife was gonna take the kids and leave.." Which of course you know in that day and age...so instead, old man Isaiah...well he gave them all a shave.

He draws his hand across his throat with appropriate noises, laughing. Dean joins in but stops when Sam gives him bitchface.

Dean: Does it say what happened to the bodies?


It says they were all cremated.

Sam: Anything else?


Yeah. Actually I found a picture of the family. It's right here...somewhere. Right, here it is

It's the picture of the painting.

Sam: Hey, can we get a copy of this please?





BLAKE watches as the painting is packed into a moving crate.

Sarah: (Approaching) Dad! You promised you wouldn't sell that painting.


I know sweetie, but Evelyn's offered a persuasive amount of money.

Sarah: You're shameless, you know that?


(Smiling at her) For that sort of money I can afford to be.



Sam and Dean sit at the table.

Sam: I'm telling you man, I'm sure of it. The painting at the auction house, Dad is looking down. Painting here, Dad's looking out. The painting has changed Dean.

Dean: All right so you think that Daddy dearest is trapped in the painting and is handing out Columbian neckties like with his family?

Sam: Well yeah, it seems like it. But if his bones are already dusted how are we gonna stop him?

Dean: All right, well. If Isaiah's position changed then maybe other things in the painting did too. It could give us some clues.

Sam: What, like a Da Vinci Code deal?

Dean: (Giving Sam a totally blank look) I don't...know. uhh...I'm still waiting for the movie on that one. Anyway, we gotta get back in and see that painting.

Dean rises and moves across to the bed, throwing himself onto his back and crossing his arms.

Dean: Which is a good thing cause you can get some more time to crush on your girlfriend.

Sam: Dude. Enough already.

Dean: What?

Sam: What? Ever since we got here you been trying to pimp me out to Sarah. Just back off, all right?

Dean: Well you like her don't you?

Sam raises his arms and eyes to the ceiling.

Dean: All right, you like her, she likes you, you're consenting adults...

Sam: (Frustrated) What's the point Dean, We'll just leave, we always leave.

Dean: Well I'm not talking about marriage Sam.

Sam: (Aggitated) I don't get it, why do you care if I hook up?

Dean: (Calmly) Cause then maybe you wouldn't be so cranky all the time.

Sam stares at him, then huffs out a breath and looks away.

Dean: (Sitting up on the bed) You know, seriously Sam, this isn't just about hooking up, okay? I mean, I think that this Sarah girl could be good for you.

Sam sighs and scratches his head. Dean watches closely.

Dean: (Softly) And...I don't mean any disrespect but I'm sure this is about Jessica right? Now I don't know what it's like to lose somebody like that...but...I would think that she would want you to be happy.

Sam is quiet and listening now, tears in his eyes.

Dean: God forbid have fun once in a while. Wouldn't she?

Sam: (softly) Yeah I know she would.

Sam gives a half smile, then sighs heavily.

Sam: Yeah you're right. Part of this is about Jessica. But not the main part.

Dean: What's it about?

Sam refuses to answer.

Dean: Yeah all right. (He lies back again and crosses his arms) Well we still gotta see that painting, which means you still gotta call Sarah...so...

Sam picks up the phone, clearing his throat. Dean shakes his head and closes his eyes, settling in.

Sam: (Awkwardly) Hey, Sarah, it's Sam. Good. Good, yeah. What about you?

Dean opens one eye slightly, watching his brother.

Sam: (Repeating himself) Yeah good, really good.

Dean: (Whispers across the room) Smooth...

Sam: So...so ah listen. Me and my brother, we were...uh...thinking that maybe we'd like to come back in and look at the painting again.

Dean once more shakes his head and closes his eyes.

Sam: I think maybe we are interested in buying it...what!?

At Sam's tone Dean snaps to attention.

Sam: (Standing up)Who'd you sell it to?

Dean rises up, listening closely.

Sam: (Urgently) Sarah I need an address right now.



Evelyn, from the auction house at the start of the episode, sits reading in her lounge. The painting is on the wall above the fireplace. Isaiah turns his head, watching her. Evelyn puts down her book and places her glasses on top of it before picking up her cup of tea. In her glasses we see a reflection of razor move past. Evelyn hears a shuffling noise and looks up, gasping in horror.




The Impala roars up and the boys jump out. Sarah appears from the car waiting in the driveway.

Sarah: Sam what's happening.

Sam: (running past her) I told you, you shouldn't have come.

Dean joins Sam and they run up the stairs to the front porch. Dean starts banging on the door.

Dean: Hello, anyone home?

Sarah: You said Evelyn might be in danger, what sort of danger?

Dean: I can't knock this sucker down. I gotta pick it.

Dean starts to pick the lock as Sam bangs on the windows, which are covered with metal security bars.

Sarah: What are you guys, burglars?

Sam: I wish it was that simple. Look you really should wait in the car. It's for your own good.

Dean gets the door open and Sam quickly follows him inside.

Sarah: The hell I will. Evelyn's a friend.

Sarah runs in after them.

Sarah: Evelyn?

Dean: Evelyn.

The enter the lounge, Evelyn sits half turned away from them. The painting has changed, Isaiah now looks at his daughter rather than straight ahead.

Sarah: Evelyn? It's Sarah Blake...Are you all right?

Sarah reaches to touch Evelyn's shoulder.

Sam: (Urgently) Sarah don't. Sarah!

Evelyns's head tips back, exposing that her slashed throat.

Sarah: Oh my God. Oh My God!

Sam puts his arm around her and shepherds her out of the room.



Dean sits at the bar with the laptop, Sam paces. There is a knock on the door. Sam opens it and Sarah storms past him.

Sam: Hey. You all right?

Sarah: No actually, I just lied to the cops and told them I went to Evelyns, alone, and found her like that.

Dean smirks while Sam looks relieved.

Sam: Thank you.

Sarah: Don't thank me, I'm about to call them right back and tell them what the hell's going on. Who's killing these people!

Sam looks at Dean, who raises his eyebrows.

Sam: (To Sarah) What.

Sarah: What?

Sam: It's not 'who'. It's 'what' is killing those people.

Sarah looks at Sam like he's insane.

Sam: (Sighing) Sarah, you saw that painting move.

Sarah: (Agistated)No...no I was...I was seeing things. It's impossible.

Dean: Yeah well, welcome to our world.

Sam: Sarah I know this sounds crazy...but we think that that painting is haunted.

Sarah: (Sniggering but with tears in her eyes) You're joking.

She looks from one to the other of them. They both just stare at her.

Sarah: You're not joking. God, the guys I choose to go out with.

Sam: Sarah, think about it. Evelyn, the Telesca's, they both had the painting. And there have been others before that. Wherever this thing goes people die. And we're just trying to stop it. And that's the truth.

Sarah: (Taking a deep breath) Then I guess you'd better show me. I'm coming with you.

Sam: What? No. Sarah no, you should just go home. This stuff can get dangerous and...and I don't want you to get hurt.

Sarah: Look, you guys are probably crazy, but if you're right about this? Then me and my Dad sold this painting that got these people killed. Look I'm not saying I'm not scared because I am scared as hell but...I'm not going to run and hide either.

Sarah strides to the door.

Sarah: (Turning back) So are we going or what?

She walks out.

Dean: Sam?

Sam looks across to where Dean is sitting. Dean points out the door after Sarah.

Dean: Marry that girl.



Sam is picking the lock.

Sarah: Ahhh...isn't this a crime scene?

Dean: You've already lied to the cops, what's another infraction.

Once inside Sam lifts the painting down from the wall and they examine it.

Sarah: Aren't you worried that it's...gonna kill us?

Sam: Nah, it seems to do it's thing at night. I think we're all right in the daylight.

Dean: (Comparing the picture in the book with the painting) Sam, check it out. The razor, it's closed in this one but it's open in that one.

Sarah: What are you guys looking for?

Dean: Well if the spirits changing aspects of the painting maybe it's doing so for a reason.

Sam: Hey hey look at this. The painting in the painting.

Dean: Looks like a crypt, or a mausoleum or something.

Dean looks around, grabs a thick glass ashtray and uses it as a magnifying glass.


(Reading the name on the Mausoleum) Merchant.



Sam, Dean and Sarah walk through the graves.

Dean: This is the third boneyard we've checked. I think this ghost is jerking us around.

Sarah: So this is what you guys do for a living?

Sam: Not exactly. We don't get paid.

Sarah: Well, Mazel tov

Dean: (Spying the mausoleum) Over there.

Dean breaks the lock and they enter, pushing aside the cowbwebs. There is a number of name plates as well as four urns in front of little glass fronted boxes. Sarah looks into one of the cases at a doll.

Sarah: Okay, that right there is one of the creepiest things I've ever seen.

Sam: It was a...sort of tradition at the time. Whenever a child died sometimes they'd preserve the kids favorite toy in a glass case, put it next to the headstone or crypt.

Dean: Notice anything strange here?

Sarah: Where do I start?

Sam sniggers, looking at her.

Dean: No, look at the urns.

Sam: There are only four.

Dean: Yeah Mom and the three kids. Daddy dearest isn't here.

Sam: So where is he?



Sam and Sarah sit on a small wall, waiting.

Sarah: So what exactly is your brother doing in there?

Sam: Searching county death certificates trying to find out what happened to Isaiah's body.

Sarah: How'd he even get in the door?

Sam: Lying and subterfuge mostly.

Sarah: You have a...uh...an eyelash on your right...no...uh...

Sarah reaches, but has no idea where it is.

Sam: (laughing) Do you mind if I get it?

Sarah: No.

Sam reaches for it and holds it on his finger.

Sam: Okay, I got it. Make a wish.

Laughing, Sarah does so, and blows it away.

Sarah: Sam could I ask you something?

Sam: Yeah, sure.

Sarah: I don't mean to be forward, but a girl could wait forever. Is there something here, between us? Or am I delusional?

Sam: You're not delusional.

Sarah: But there's a but coming.

Sam: But...I don't think this would be a good idea.

Sarah: Can I ask why?

Sam: Cause I like you.

Sarah: Wait. You lost me.

They both laugh.

Sam: Look, it's hard to explain. It's just when people are around me. I don't know, they get hurt.

Sarah: What do you mean?

Sam: I mean physically hurt. With what me and my brother do, it's...Sarah, I had a girlfriend. She died. And my Mom, she died too. I don't know, it's like, like I'm cursed or something. Like death just follows me around. Look, I'm not scared of much, but I'm scared if I let myself have feelings for anybody...

Sarah: You're scared they'd get hurt too. That's very sweet. And very archaic.

Sam: Sorry?

Sarah: Look I'm a big girl Sam, it's not your job to make decisions for me. There's always a chance of getting hurt.

Sam: I'm not talking about a broken heart and a tub of Haagen Das. I'm talking about life and death.

Sarah: And tomorrow I could get hit by a bus, that's what life is. Look, I know losing somebody you love is terrible. Believe me, I know. But when you shut out pain, you shut out everything else too.

Sam: Sarah you don't understand, The pain that I went through...I can't go through it again. I can't.

Dean: (Suddenly appearing) Am I interrupting something?

Sam: No.

Sarah: No, not at all.

Dean: (Looking between them) Huh. Apparently.

Sam: So what'd you get?

Dean: Paydirt. Apparently the surviving relatives of the Merchant family were so ashamed of Isaiah that they didn't want him interred with the rest of the family. So, they gave him over to the county, the county gave him a pauper's funeral. Economy style. Turns out he wasn't cremated, he was buried in a pine box.

Sam: So there are bones to burn.

Dean: There are bones to burn.

Sam: Tell me you know where.



Dean and Sam dig, Sarah holds a flashlight.

Sarah: You guys seem to be uncomfortably comfortable with this.

Sam: Well, this isn't exactly the first grave we've dug. Still think I'm a catch?

Dean: Think I've got something.

Dean cracks open the coffin lid to reveal a body.


Dean pours the salt, Sam the keRosene.

Dean: (Striking a match) You've been a real pain in the ass Isaiah. Good riddance.

They all stand and watch it burn.



The Impala pulls up, Sam opens the passenger door.

Sam: Keep the motor running.

Sarah: I thought the painting was harmless now?

Sam: Better to be safe than sorry.

Sarah: (Getting out of the car) I'm coming with you.

Sam: You sure?

Dean: (Calling Sam back) Hey! hey hey. I'll stay here, you go make your move.

Sam sniggers and gets out of the car.

Dean: Sam. Sam!

As Sarah and Sam move up the stairs Dean turns on the radio. A love ballad is heard. Grimacing, Sam turns around and gives Dean bitchface. Dean makes a 'what?' gesture, Sam motions him to cut off the music. Sighing, Dean turns it off.

Sam and Sarah move inside and stop in front of the painting, looking surprised.

Sarah: Ahhh, Sam? You're the expert on all this ghost stuff. Is the painting supposed to look like that? Where's the little girl?

Sam: And the razor.

They hear noises and laughter and look around in time to see the front door shutting on them.



Dean runs up the stairs and starts shoving at the door. Inside Sam also runs to the door and yanks on it.

Sam: Dean! That you?

Dean: Sammy, you all right?

Sam grabs out his phone and calls Dean.

Dean: (Answering) Tell me you slammed the front door.

Sam: No it wasn't me. I think it was the little girl.

Dean: Girl? What girl?

Sam: I think she's out of the painting, I think it's been her all along.

Dean: Wasn't the Dad looking down at her? Maybe he was trying to warn us

Sam: Hey hey hey, let's recap later all right? Get us out of here.

Dean: Well I'm trying to pick the lock, the door won't budge.

Sam: Well, knock it down.

Dean: Okay genius, let me just grab my battering ram.

Sam: Dean the damn thing is coming.

Dean: Well you're just gonna have to hold it off until I figure something out. Get some salt or iron.

Sam: (Grabbing Sarah's hand) Come on.

Sam rummages through the kitchen drawers, Sarah the lounge cupboards.

Sam: What kind of house doesn't have salt? Low-sodium freaks. (To Sarah) Hey, did you find any iron?

Sarah: No. What's it for?

Sam: Iron repels evil spirits but it's gotta be pure. Hurry. (Into the phone) Dean give me a sec, don't go anywhere.

Outside Dean leaves the front door and starts walking the front porch looking for entrances.

Sam: (To Sarah) Look in the chair. Sometimes the seats.

The lounge doors slam shut, wind blows papers everywhere. The girl appears, dragging her doll along the floor by one foot, a razor in her other hand.

Sarah: Sam?

Sam backs up, keeping Sarah behind him.

The ghost comes closer, moving in an inhuman manner.

Sarah: That is just so wrong.

Sam backs into the fireside implements, grabs the poker and swings at the ghost. She disappears.

Sarah: Iron?

Sam: Yeah.

Dean: (On the phone) Sammy, you okay?

Sam: Yeah, for now.

Dean: How we gonna waste her?

Sam: I don't know, she was already cremated. There's nothing left to burn.

Dean: Then how's she still around?

Sam: There must be something else.

Sarah: Sam wait. We used to handle antique dolls at the auction.

Sam: Well that's fascinating Sarah but is it important right now?

Sarah: Well back then they use to make the dolls in the kids image, I mean everything, They would use the kid's real hair.

Sam: Dean, Sarah said the doll might have the kid's real hair. Human remains, the Same as bones.

Sam and Dean together

The Mausoleum!


Dean races the Impala toward the graveyard, driving through the locked gates.

Back at the house the wind rises again. Sam raises the poker. A heavy cupboard comes across the room, knocking him over and pinning him on the ground. Sarah runs to help, calling his name. She hears a noise and spins, coming face to face with the ghost

Dean screeches the Impala to a halt and leaps out of the car, running into the mausoleum. He pounds at the glass container, then smashes at it with the butt of his gun but it doesn't break. He turns to run back to the car, gun in hand, then stops and looks down at it.

Dean: (Grimacing) Come on Dean!

Dean shoots the glass, lifting his other arm to protect his face. He uses the gun to knock out the rest of the glass until he can grab the doll.

Back at the house Sarah is thrown through the air by the ghost.

Dean grabs the doll, reaches for his lighter, it refuses to light.

Dean: Come on come on!

Sarah pulls herself along the floor and pushes herself up against the wall, watching the ghost approach while raising the razor. Sam uses all his strength to push the cupboard slowly away from him.

Dean's lighter finally catches and he holds it under the dolls hair. It begins to smoke and then to burn.

The Ghost raises the razor, preparing to strike.

Sam: No!

Sam dives for Sarah pulling her out of the way just as the ghost is about to bring the razor down. At the Same moment the ghost rears back, burning up. As she burns her figure reappears back in the painting.

Sam and Sarah lay on the floor together, looking around, then at each other.

Dean looks at the burnt doll on the floor of the mausoleum, then pulls out his phone. Sam answers.

Dean: Sam you good?

Sam: Not bad.

He leans back against the wall next to Sarah, both looking exhausted.




Dean approaches where Sam and Sarah stand watching the painting be crated up.

Dean: (Holding up some papers) This was archived in the county records. The Merchant's adopted daughter Melanie. Know why she was up for adoption? Cause her real family was murdered in their beds.

Sarah: She killed them?

Dean: Yeah. Who'd suspect her? Sweet little girl. So then she kills Isaiah and his family, the old man takes the blame. His spirit's been trying to warn people ever since.


So where's this one go?

Sarah: Take it out back and burn it.

Everyone stops and looks at her.

Sarah: I'm serious guys. Thanks.

To Sam and Dean: So why'd the girl do it?

Sam: Killing others? Killing herself? Some people are just born tortured. So when they die, their spirits are just as dark.

Dean: Maybe. I don't really care. It's over, we move on.

Sarah: I guess this means you're leaving.

Dean looks from Sam to Sarah. Sam stares at Dean until he gets it.

Dean: I'll go wait in the car. See you Sarah.

Dean stands awkwardly for a second, then nods and walks away.

Dean: (Grumbling) I'm the one that burned the doll, desTroyed the spirit, but don't thank me or anything.

Sarah: There are a million thing I wanna say to you but for the life of me I can't think of one.

Sam: Yeah, I'll miss you too.

Sarah: You know there's a lesson in all of this.

Sam: What's that?

Sarah: We all got through this in one piece. I didn't get hurt.

Sam: (Laughing) Yeah I'm glad for that.

Sarah: So, maybe you're not cursed. Maybe...maybe you'll come back and see me.

Sam: I will.

Ouside, Dean is leaning against the car. He watches Sarah letting Sam out and closing the door. Shaking his head, he turns to get into the car.

Inside, Sarah leans against the door, thinking. There is a knock. She opens the door and Sam is there. She smiles and he steps in and kisses her.

Dean hears the knock and turns around to see Sam kiss Sarah.

Dean: (Smiling) That's my boy.

Dean gets into the car.