The next morning saw the Winchesters back at the auction house once more in a frantic search. Instead this time, for Dean's wallet rather than a haunted painting. Poking around easels, statues, vases, shrubbery, and anywhere else it could have fallen during their break in, no wallet could be seen.

"How do you lose your wallet, Dean?" Sam hissed. Rather than replying, Dean managed to throw his hands up slightly as he continued to look around. However, a friendly voice instantly had them swinging around and stop in their search.

"Hey guys!" Looking over, Sarah stood watching them with a pleased look on her face.

"Sarah! Hey!" Sam greeted her, putting down the box he had been rooting through.

"What are you doing here?"

"Ahh…" Sam looked back to Dean for help, who in turn simply shrugged. "We... We are leaving town and, you know, we came to say goodbye!"

It was then that Dean walked over to join the conversation. "What are you talking about Sam? We're sticking around for at least another day or two." He grinned, earning a confused look from his brother and an unsure chuckle from Sarah. "Oh, Sam. By the way. I'm gonna go ahead and give you that twenty bucks I owe you." When Sam saw Dean pull out the supposedly missing wallet from out of his back pocket, realization swept across his face. "I always forget, you know." Dean laughed as he told Sarah. "There you go." With that he held a twenty out to Sam, who after a look of disbelief, snatched the bill away. "Well I'll leave you two crazy kids alone, I gotta go do... something… somewhere." He said before hightailing it out the door, leaving Sam to talk to Sarah.

"That was quite smooth of you, sweetheart." Claire scoffed once she and Dean were outside of the auction house.

"What can I say, I'm a natural born actor." Dean chuckled.

"You deserve an Oscar after that performance." She shook her head, glancing back to the building as they made their way to the car.

Noticing no one was around them, Dean gave a short whistle. "Hey, come here." He called to her. Twisting her ring around her finger, she looked between Dean and the building before following him into the car. Once they were settled on the bench, he gently swiped a finger through the air under her chin. "Hey, something's been bothering you since last night." He started gently. "What's going on?"

"Nothing." She replied quietly, refusing to meet his gaze and instead continued to fidget with her ring.

"No. It's definitely something. It's never nothing with you." When she finally looked up at him, clearly to argue, he held up a finger to stop her. "In the years we've been together, you've almost always caught what I've missed. And sure, I can be a little slow, but I can pick up the signs from you when something's wrong. Especially when you straight up tell me something is wrong."

"I didn't-"

"You shook your head last night when we burned the painting." He cut her off. "Something's wrong."

"Except I don't know what it is." She frowned. "All I can think is how it feels too easy."

"How?"

Sighing, she sank in her seat before speaking slowly. "Those names in your father's notebook were there for a reason. Something big is centered around this painting. Something big enough for your father to note. I mean," She sat up to face him. "You and Sam burned that painting with no trouble. No spirit trying to prevent it. And yet a number of people who have owned the painting are dead-" Her eyes widening suddenly at something in her peripheral, she suddenly appeared in the backseat as Sam opened the door to the passenger seat and scrambled inside to sit where she had been a moment ago.

"It's back." Sam said breathlessly.

"What?" Dean asked in confusion.

"The painting! I was talking to Sarah, and suddenly someone's walking by carrying it!"

From the corner of his eye, he could see Claire frown and disappear. "You're kidding."

This made Sam huff. "Dean, do you really think this is something I would kid about?"

"To stick around Sarah a little longer? Maybe." In the backseat Claire reappeared as he said Sarah's name. Upon seeing her clouded expression, he too frowned.

"I don't understand, Dean, we burned the damn thing." Sam stared at the hood in frustration, ignoring the jab about Sarah.

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

"Okay, all right. Well, um, in almost all the lore about haunted paintings it's always the painting's subject that haunts 'em." Sam thought aloud.

"That presents far too many options for my liking." Claire thought back to the number of people depicted on the canvas.

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

"You said the Isaiah Merchant family, right?" The record keeper asked as he dropped a collection of large dusty books onto the tabletop already littered with various news articles and printouts.

"Yeah that's right." Sam confirmed.

Glancing at Dean who was pouring over a printed info packet about guns, Claire called out to him. "Dean, focus."

"I dug up every scrap of local history I could find." The keeper continued as he began to lay out what he thought the boys might need. "So, are you boys crime buffs?"

"Kinda. Yeah. Why do you ask?" Dean glanced at Sam.

"Well…" The keeper said nothing else as he held up an old newspaper.

"He really should be wearing gloves when handling this old stuff." Claire muttered as she leaned forward to study the articles. While most of the 1912 paper's spread was dedicated to the sinking of the titanic, a small column on the right side that the keeper pointed to spoke of how a father in the area had killed his family and himself.

"Yes. Yeah, that sounds about right." Dean confirmed cheerfully.

"The whole family was killed?" Sam asked.

"It seems this Isaiah, he slits his kids' throats, then his wife, then himself. Now, he was a barber by trade. Used a straight razor." The keeper explained.

"Why'd he do it?" Sam asked in bewilderment.

"Why does a murderer murder anyone?" Claire muttered over the rustling paper as the keeper turned the newspaper over to the backside.

"People who knew him describe Isaiah as having a stern and harsh temperament. Controlled his family with an iron fist." He read. "Wife, uh, two sons, adopted daughter… 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, um ...so instead, old man Isaiah...well he gave them all a shave." He finished, laughing at his own joke.

Dean laughed too until he saw the unimpressed looks on both Sam and Claire's faces. "Does it say what happened to the bodies?" He said, his laughter dying quickly.

"Just that they were all cremated."

At this, the brothers looked at each other in dismay. "Anything else?" Sam asked gently, trying not to sound to disappointed.

"Yeah!" The keeper scrambled for a book hidden under the album that had held the newspaper. "Actually, I found a picture of the family. It's right here... somewhere. Right... here it is!" He declared after flipping through the book. Turning it to the hunters, they were greeted with the sight of an image of the very painting they had tried to destroy.

"Hey, could we get a copy of this please?" Sam gestured to it.

"Sure?" The keeper replied.

While Sam followed the keeper to get a copy of the photo, Dean watched Claire as she folded her arms and pursed her lips in thought. "What are you thinking, Clairey?" He asked quietly.

"That the painting has changed." She said, not looking up at him. "And that your job just became harder."

"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!" Sam said when they got back to the motel and sat at the table.

Taking from Sam the copied picture they got from the library, Dean studied it carefully. "Just as I said." Claire said into his ear as she too studied it.

"All right, so you think that Daddy dearest is trapped in the painting and is handing out Columbian neckties like he did with his family?" Dean asked.

"Well yeah, it seems like it! But if his bones are already dusted then how are we gonna stop him?"

"Find something else that might have survived of his?" Claire suggested as she moved away from the boy to sit on the bed. Something was bothering her about the painting, but what she wasn't quite sure.

"All right, well, if Isaiah's position changed then maybe some other things in the painting changed as well. You know, it could give us some clues."

"What, like a Da Vinci Code deal?" Sam suggested.

"I don't… know. I'm still waiting for the movie on that one. Anyway, we gotta get back in and see that painting. Which is a good thing, because you can get some more time to crush on your girlfriend." Dean added as he got up from the table and walked over to his bed, throwing himself onto it. From where she already sat on the empty side of the bed, Claire bounced slightly from the impact of Dean's added weight.

"Dude, enough already." Sam warned his brother in annoyance.

Dean crossed his arms after he propped himself up against the headboard. "What?"

"What?" Sam mocked. "Ever since we got here, you've been trying to pimp me out to Sarah! Just back off, alright?"

"Well you like her, don't you?" Dean asked. Relenting, Sam threw his hands briefly in the air and turned his head away. "Alright, you like her. She likes you. You're both consenting adults." He listed off.

"What's the point, Dean? We'll just leave. We always leave." At this point Sam's voice was getting higher with each word he said in protest.

"Well, I'm not talking about marriage, Sam." Dean laughed.

"No, I don't get it! What do you care if I hook up?"

"So then maybe you wouldn't be so cranky all the time." Although there was a smile on his face, there was no trace of joking in Dean's voice as he said this, leaving silence in the air. Claire watched intently as both brother's made faces at each other before Sam scoffed.

"You better be going somewhere with this, love." Claire said quietly, looking down at the crappy stitching on the comforter covering the bed.

Taking her advice, Dean sat up straight. "No, seriously, Sam. This isn't just about hooking up, okay? I mean, I- I think that this... Sarah girl could be good for you." While Sam looked away, Dean kept his eyes on his little brother, his face completely straight. "And I don't mean any disrespect, but I'm… I'm sure that this is about Jessica, right?" More silence from Sam. Glancing between Sam and Claire, Dean took a few calming breaths as he thought over what he was going to say next. "You know that I… know what it's like to lose someone like that. And don't treat me like I don't know what it feels like, 'cause I do. Think about when Claire d-died."

If he didn't have Sam's attention at mentioning Jessica, which he did, he certainly had his attention now at the mention of their long dead, to Sam anyways, friend. Except for a very few number of mentions of her in the beginning, after a while Sam had started to treat Claire's name as a sort of taboo, worried about what his brother would say or do; because for a while, it had not been pretty in the slightest. Dean's refusal to talk about her or anything that had happened was what had led to the whole "no chick flick moments" rule. If Claire was ever mentioned in a conversation willingly, it was Dean who would bring her up, unless Sam was looking to get a rise out of his brother. Now, even Claire watched him with eyes wide open in shock at the mention of her own name.

When Sam finally gathered himself enough to speak, he looked up at Dean sadly. "Why talk about her now? It's been seven years since we lost her, and only now you talk about how you felt?"

"Sammy…" Claire regarded him sadly, tears pooling in her eyes when she heard the break in his voice.

"Look, I tried to hide it, but I know you saw through it sometimes." Dean took a deep breath to calm himself, supposedly looking away, while really looking at Claire, before continuing. "I was a mess. Even if we only knew her for a little while, she changed my life for the better. But I know she wanted me to move on and find someone else, and I think maybe that's what Jessica would want for you."

"Yeah, well you moved on pretty fast." Sam rebutted.

"No. No I didn't." Dean said in a hard voice, tears now building up in his eyes as well. "You don't think it hurt for me waking up each morning and not seeing there? Not being able to hold her again? Not hear her talk or laugh? We were planning on running away together, Sammy; you know that. Quit the business, take you with us and be together. Even if we had been 18… 19 years old, I would have married her without a second thought. Because I loved her, god, I still love her." By now both he and Claire were crying as he let out everything he had pent up for the last seven years. Sniffling and wiping his eyes, Dean gazed his eyes to Sam who had tears of his own silently running down his face. "I didn't even want to live without her. I tried and I tried, but I couldn't. I just couldn't."

"What are you sayin?" Sam croaked.

"Remember my 5 states, 5 days trip?" Dean asked him, receiving a nod in confirmation. When this was mentioned, Claire froze, remembering exactly what Dean was talking about. Even though things had turned out fine in the end, she still cried for nights on end in the weeks that followed. "That week I had planned to end it all. To go out with a bang or something. I didn't want to be without Claire, so I figured I'd join her. But I didn't. I couldn't leave you behind, and I knew she would have wanted me to keep on living, find someone else who could make me happy, and god forbid have fun once and awhile. So I did. Besides, if I had done it, she probably would have kicked my ass for leaving you behind like that."

"Yeah… I bet she would have." Sam laughed a little, making Dean and Claire laugh as well.

"I'll always love her, and she'll always be a part of me, but I had to learn to move on, and I'm sure Jessica would have wanted you to do the same."

Nodding in understanding, Sam considered the weight of what his brother had just told him, and seeing how right he was. "Yeah, you're right." He admitted. "A part of this is about Jessica. But not the main part."

This made Dean frown. "What's it about?" When Sam kept quiet, he rolled his eyes and crossed his arms once more, leaning back against the headboard, seeing the touching moment was over.

"Yeah, alright. Well, we still gotta see that painting, which means you still gotta call Sarah. So..."

Without another word, Sam picked up his phone and dialed Sarah's number. On the bed, Claire shuffled over to lay next to Dean. "I'm proud of you." She whispered. While Dean didn't look at her, he nodded slightly. He couldn't help the slight smile that lifted his mouth however she followed her whisper with "I love you."

"Yeah good, good, really good." Sam rambled on the phone, catching both Dean and Claire's attention.

"Smooth!" Dean whisper yelled across the room.

Shaking his head at Dean, Sam continued. "So, ah, so listen. Me and my brother, were… Uh… Thinking that maybe we'd like to come back in and look at the painting again. I... I think maybe we are interested in buying it." Listening carefully, his expression dropped as he jumped up from the table, his outburst making the other two watch him in curiosity. "What!? Who'd you sell it to?" Now Dean and Claire were up as well. "Sarah, I need an address right now."

"Sarah's here." Claire shouted over the roaring of the Impala as it flew up the driveway, pointing to where a jeep sat parked in front of the house.

"Son of a bitch." Dean gritted as he brought the vehicle to a halt.

"Sam, what's happening?" Sarah asked as the two brothers rushed out of the car.

"Claire, house." Dean muttered as he ran past Sam and Sarah.

"On it." Claire nodded before appearing inside the house. Inside it was quiet. Too quiet. Taking a breath, she tried her best to block out the sounds of the others outside as she studied her surroundings. While the first thought was this seems familiar, she shook away thoughts of the past while leaving the entrance to walk into the sitting room. Above the fireplace was the painting, looking as cold and unsettling as the first time she had seen it. Seeing someone sitting in the armchair in front of the fireplace, she circled around to stand before it. The sight that she was greeted with however drew a curse from her breath and left her stuck in place. As there was the sound of the front door banging open and the others rushed in calling for the woman, Evelyn, Claire felt a chill around her hand and up the back of her neck as the others walked into the adjoining room. In an instant, however, the feeling was gone, but nonetheless left her shivering. Looking up to meet Dean's eye, she shook her head, making his shoulders drop.

"Evelyn?" Sarah called out to the woman. Together the three of them cautiously made their way into the room, the boys watching the painting. "It's Sarah Blake… Are you all right?"

Sam tore his eyes away from the painting however when he saw Sarah reach for the older woman. "Sarah don't. Sarah!" He shouted. It was too late however, as Evelyn's head fell back, cleanly cut from the rest of her neck, causing the younger woman to scream in horror.

The cold feeling was back, rushing up Claire's spine, and clearly everyone else's as they all looked up to the painting to see Isaiah Merchant staring right back at them.

I may rewrite the beginning half of this story (the high school part), clean it up a bit. The story direction has changed and evolved since I began writing this story over five years ago, and my writing skills have improved as well (I think), but it wouldn't be anything to really go back to look at unless you wanted to. Thanks for reading, nonetheless!

-B