Okay. Here is the long-awaited update. This thing is 22 pages long! I have final exams next week and then I graduate from my two-year school. I'm going to try and find a job for a couple of years before going on to university, but I should have plenty of time to write over the summer. I hope so because I've sort of fallen into a sort of depression since I haven't been able to do what I love for a while now.
I hope you guys enjoy! I did change a few things from the original in this one. Alyson is a little more emotional and we get to see how Dean and Sam react to Alyson's presence more in this one because I write in their prospective too.
Chapter Eight
"We've got a problem," was the first thing Alyson heard the next morning – in fact, it was what woke her up. She opened her eyes automatically, thinking something was seriously wrong.
"What is it?" she asked and sat up.
Dean seemed downright frantic and he was going through their bags and looking under the bed sheets.
"I can't find my wallet. I think I dropped it in the warehouse last night."
"You're kidding, right?" Sam asked, coming out of the bathroom.
"No." Dean started putting his jacket on and Alyson slowly got out of bed. "It's got my prints, my ID – well, my fake ID, anyway. We've gotta get it before somebody else finds it."
Alyson quickly got some clothes and went into the bathroom to change. As soon as she was done she went back in the main room and grabbed her purse, and the three went out to the car.
"How do you lose your wallet, Dean?" Sam asked and Dean shrugged.
The auction house was already open when they got there, but not a lot of people were there. Sarah was in the main room and seemed pleased when she saw Sam.
"Hey, guys!"
"Sarah! Hey," Sam said, sounding nonchalant – or trying to, anyway.
"What're you doing here? I thought you guys were leaving."
"Uh, we – we are leaving, but I came to say goodbye."
Sarah looked down sadly – Alyson could tell Sarah really liked Sam and wasn't happy with him leaving so soon.
"Oh, what're you talkin' about, Sam. We're stickin' around for at least another day or two. And, by the way, I wanted to give you those twenty bucks I owe you."
Dean took out his wallet from the back of his jeans, and Alyson realized that he'd never actually lost his wallet; he'd just wanted to get Sam to the auction house. He handed Sam a twenty, which Sam seemed reluctant to take but did so anyway.
"We'll leave you two crazy kids alone," Dean said and grabbed Alyson's arm. "We've gotta go do something somewhere else."
Alyson saw Sarah wink at Dean before he dragged her off.
"Guys, we have a problem," Sam said. "A real one this time."
Sam couldn't believe Dean had set him up like he had, couldn't believe Dean had tricked him. Well, actually, Sam could believe it, but it didn't matter anyhow because it was a good thing they had come when they had because the painting they had burned the night before was back in its frame, whole and undamaged.
When Sam told Dean and Alyson, she asked, "How is that even possible?"
"I don't know," Sam said. "I mean, I don't understand either. We burned the thing.
"A'right, we just need to figure out another way to get rid of it," Dean said. "Any ideas?"
Sam had reached Dean and Alyson before they had even reached the car, so now all three of them got inside and Sam started spouting out ideas.
"In almost all the lore about haunted paintings, it's always the paintings' subject that haunts them."
"Yeah? A'right, so we need to figure out everything there is to know about that creepy family in that creepy painting."
Sam nodded. "You up for going to the library?"
"Research is something I already know how to do," Alyson said, grinning. "So, yeah."
Now they just needed to find out where the library was.
This library was bigger than the one they'd gone to in Fitchburg, but it wasn't that surprising because they were in New York now.
The librarian there was an older man, and he became super excited when Dean brought up the Merchant family. He led them to a table and told them he'd be back shortly before he disappeared into a backroom. He came back with a small box full of papers, which he put on the table.
"I dug up every scrap of local history I could fine. So, uh, are you three crime buffs?"
"Kind of," Dean answered. Dean could tell this guy was a crime buff; it hadn't taken all that long to get the box from the back room, so he'd probably already had everything together.
"Well, then, you're gonna love this," the man said, picking up the first thing in the box and handing it to Dean.
It was an article from an old newspaper. The title read, Father Slaughters Family, Kills Self.
"Yeah, that sounds about right."
"The whole family was killed?" Alyson asked.
The man nodded hurriedly. "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."
"Why would he do that?" Alyson asked. "Did he have a history of violence?"
"People who knew him described Isaiah as having a stern and harsh temperament and controlled his family with an iron fist. Wife, two sons, adopted daughter – there were whispers that the wife was gonna take the kids and leave, which, of course, you know in that day and age . . ." The man shrugged. "So, instead, Old Man Isaiah – well, he gave them all a shave."
The man made a slicing gesture with his hand and smiled.
"I don't think that's funny," Alyson said, and the smile instantly fell from the man's face.
"Does it say what happened to the bodies?" Dean asked.
"It says they were all cremated," the man said, less excited now since Alyson had pretty much chastised him.
Dean was really more worried about the fact that the Merchant family had been cremated, which meant they had to find something else that these people were attached to. It sounded like they were only going to have to worry about finding the dad, though, so that was a plus.
"Anything else?" Sam asked politely.
"Yeah, actually. There's a picture of the family."
The guy dug through the box he'd brought out and handed the picture to Sam when he found it.
"Can we get a copy of this?"
Sam showed Dean the picture. It was just another picture of the painting; Dean didn't know why Sam wanted a copy of it.
"The two pictures are different," Sam said as soon as they were out of the library.
"Meaning? The only difference I noticed is that one is on canvas and the other is on paper," Alyson commented.
"The dad is different. In the painting at the auction house, Isaiah is lookin' down. Picture here, Isaiah's lookin' out. The painting has changed."
"A'right, so you think Daddy dearest is trapped in the painting?" Alyson asked, sounding skeptical.
"Yeah, seems like it," Dean answered.
"But if his bones are already dusted, then how are we gonna stop him?" Sam asked.
They got in the car, but Dean didn't even put the key in the ignition – they really needed to figure this out.
"Well, if Isaiah's position changed, maybe some other things in the painting changed as well. It could give us some clues."
"What, like a Da Vinci code deal?"
"I don't know, I'm still waitin' for the movie on that one."
"Don't bother," Alyson said. "The books are always better."
"Not if you don't like to read," Dean said.
Sam watched Alyson roll her eyes before saying, "Anyway, we gotta get back in and see that painting."
"Which is a good thing," Dean said, "because you can get some more time to crush on your girlfriend."
"Dude, enough already."
"What?"
"Ever since we got here, you've been tryin' to pimp me out to Sarah. Just back off, a'right?"
"Well, you like her, don't you?" Dean asked, starting the car. "You like her, she likes you. You're both consenting adults . . ."
Yes, he liked Sarah. Sam thought she was beautiful and smart and even a little funny, but . . .
"What's the point, Dean? We'll just leave. We always leave."
"Well, I'm not talkin' about marriage, Sam."
No, Dean wouldn't be talking about marriage. Dean could sleep with a girl and leave her the next day, but not Sam. Sam craved emotional attachment before sexual activity. He didn't care if that sounded feminine of not; it was what he wanted.
"You know what? I don't get it. Why do you care if I hook up?"
"Because then maybe you wouldn't be so cranky all the time."
When they finally reached the motel parking lot, Sam noticed that Alyson got out of the car before it had completely stopped and he suddenly felt bad for arguing with Dean when she was in the car with them; it must've been really awkward.
"Y'know, seriously, Sam, this isn't about you just hookin' up, okay? I think this Sarah girl could be good for you. And I don't mean any disrespect, but I'm sure that this is about Jessica, right?"
Sam wouldn't – couldn't – look at Dean, so he kept his eyes on Alyson, who was waiting by their room door; she should probably have come get the key because this conversation was going to take a while.
"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, God forbid, have fun once in a while. Wouldn't she?"
"Yeah. I know she would." Sam smiled softly even as tears filled his eyes. "Part of this is about Jessica, but not the main part."
Knowing Dean would ask more questions if he stayed in the car, Sam got out and went to open the motel door for Alyson.
"Sorry you had to hear that."
She shrugged a little. "Was bound to happen eventually. And we've still gotta see that painting, which means you still have to call Sarah, so . . ."
Sam nodded and pulled out his phone. He stayed outside while Alyson went in. Before dialing, he made sure Dean had gone into the room and closed the door.
Here went nothin'.
When Dean walked into the room he saw Alyson laying on one of the beds. She seemed to be exhausted. He had to keep reminding himself that this lifestyle wasn't hers – or it hadn't been hers. These weird hours and stressful days that led to sleepless nights were not what she was used to.
"So . . . you regret comin' with us yet?" he asked and flopped down beside her.
She glared at him playfully as her body moved as the mattress shifted with his added weight, but when she answered him he could tell she was being honest.
"No. All three of us are still alive, so we must be doing something right."
She smiled softly and her eyes closed as if she wanted to go to sleep. Sleep wasn't to come, however, because Sam came back in.
"We have to go now. Sarah's dad sold the painting."
For someone who had appeared so tired before, Alyson was now hopping off the bed and heading toward the door.
"Do you have the address?" Dean asked Sam.
"Yeah. The place is, like, an hour away.
By the time the three got to the address it was already dark. The house was more of a mansion and there were bars on the windows – there would be no getting in the house that way. There was a light on in the house, though, so maybe the owner was still awake.
There was a jeep pulling into the driveway behind them and Sam knew who was there. He'd seen Sarah's jeep when he'd picked her up for their date the night before and this was the same make and model.
"I told her not to come," he muttered as Dean parked.
Sam got out first and Dean and Alyson followed him. Dean ran up to the front door and started knocking.
"Sam, what's happening?" Sarah asked – or yelled – as she got out of her jeep. "You said Evelyn might be in danger. What kind of danger?"
Sam didn't know what to say. If he told her the truth, Sarah would just think he was nuts. He wished she hadn't come at all; she'd be much safer somewhere else.
"I can't knock this sucker down. I gotta pick it," Dean said.
Sam pulled his lock-picking kit out of his jacket pocket and tossed it to Dean, who immediately went to work on the door. All the while, Sam was thinking that if Evelyn hadn't come to the door by now she wasn't going to come at all – she probably couldn't.
"What're you guys, burglars?" Sarah asked incredulously.
"Sarah, I can promise you we don't wanna steal that painting," Alyson was quick to assure her.
Dean finally got the door open and Sam watched Dean go in. Sam and Alyson started forward, but he told Sarah she should wait in her car.
"No. Evelyn's a friend."
Sarah actually got in front of Sam and even though he thought it would be best for her stay outside he didn't force his hand. He let her pass by.
The woman named Evelyn was seated in a chair by the fireplace. The painting was above the fireplace and Sam noticed the dad was looking down at the daughter, who was holding a doll in one arm.
"Evelyn?" Sarah called, stepping toward the chair. "It's Sarah Blake. Are you all right?"
Evelyn wasn't moving and Sam could tell the woman wasn't breathing either. He wanted so much to protect Sarah from what he knew had happened, but there was no way to shelter her from this so he let things unfold the way he knew they would.
Sarah reached out and put her hand on Evelyn's shoulder. Evelyn's head tilted back and revealed that her throat had been cut. Sarah screamed and Sam saw her look at the painting, on which the dad was now looking straight ahead. Sam wondered if she'd even noticed the change.
Sam pulled Sarah against him and led her out of the door.
"Aly, come on. We've gotta go," Dean said.
The girl had been rooted to the spot ever since Sarah had revealed Evelyn's slit throat. Dean had seen that the muscles were exposed where the cut was and he also knew that was why Aly was frozen.
She had good reason. She was probably having flashbacks of her mother.
"Hey, you okay?"
She didn't verbally answer, but she did shake her head. Dean knew this woman was only the second dead body Aly had ever seen and she was probably having trouble with all the blood. He wondered if she would ever get used to it; he kind of hoped she wouldn't because she had this sort of innocent light about her that he didn't want to ever be tarnished.
Dean stepped in front of Alyson and blocked her view of the body. "Stay with me. Don't look at her."
Again she didn't speak, but she did nod. He grabbed her arms gently and turned her around so he could walk her out the door Once outside he led her back to the Impala and let her sit in the backseat.
"You okay now?" he asked and squatted down so he could be at her level.
"I've been better," she said.
Dean noticed she was trembling and he didn't know what to do. He had half a mind to call Sam over to deal with her. If Sarah hadn't been there, he probably would have.
Sam and Sarah slowly made their way over to them and Sam also asked if Aly was okay. This time she nodded even though she had just admitted to not feeling her best.
"What happens now?" Sarah asked.
"You need to call the police," Sam said. "We can't be here when they get here."
"But they'll want to know you were here and –"
"Don't tell them we were with you," Dean said.
"Why not?"
"It's a long story," Alyson said, sounding tired. "And, frankly, it's better if you don't know it."
Since Sam was watching over Sarah and Alyson, Dean stood back up and went back up to the house so he could wipe his prints off of the door knob. All the while Dean was thinking about what Aly had said. She'd said it was better if Sarah didn't know what was going on. He wondered if that was how Alyson felt.
Yes, she'd said she didn't regret coming with them, but that really didn't mean much. She'd had a choice between coming with them and having a chance of living or staying at home and pretty much signing her own death sentence. She'd chosen the better of two options; she'd chosen the one that would keep her alive.
Alyson locked herself in the bathroom as soon as they got back to their room at the motel. She just needed a few minutes to herself to get herself together again. It wasn't just Evelyn that had gotten to her, although that would've been more than enough to cause panic in anyone.
Evelyn was only the second dead body she had seen, and to have the body be displayed the way it had been – the woman's throat had been cut. It had been so bloody and she never wanted to see a slit throat again. In fact, if she never saw blood again she'd be perfectly fine with it.
She knew she would, though. She knew this was her life now - dead bodies and blood, demons and haunted paintings. What if she couldn't handle it? Would the guys be okay with her just hanging around and not contributing? She had nowhere else to go.
Stop it! She told herself. Sam and Dean had already had this conversation with her. She wasn't worthless. Even if she couldn't handle the grosser details, she could still help research and she already knew how to fight. They wouldn't just leave her alone, not when this demon thing was after her.
Feeling slightly better, she came out of the bathroom. Dean was at the only table in the room with Sam's laptop in front of him. Sam was nowhere to be seen.
"Where's Sam?"
"Coffee run."
"Oh. No sleep tonight, huh?"
"Nope. Wanna help me research?"
"There's only one computer," she said. "Not much I can do."
"You've got a laptop," he said. "Besides, you don't need me looking over your shoulder. You know what to look for."
"No, I really don't. I don't even know where to start."
Nonetheless, she went to her bag and pulled out her laptop and charger, and went to sit at the table with Dean.
"We need to find something other than the painting that Isaiah could've latched onto. If he's been cremated, something has to be keeping him here."
"Hm. We still need to see that painting and find out what else is different."
Dean nodded. "Did you notice that the dad moved?"
"Yeah, and I think Sarah saw it too. She was looking at it when she screamed."
"Probably thought she was goin' nuts."
"Yeah. So how do we find out where this guy's ashes are?"
"City records, maybe," Dean said and shrugged. "Besides we really only need to find out what he's connected to."
Sam finally made it back with coffee and doughnuts; he'd realized they hadn't really eaten that day. He hated started them out with a load of carbohydrates and sugar, but they would need it to make it through the night.
Sam knew they really couldn't do anything until morning. If they were lucky, they might find out where they could locate Isaiah's possessions. Given the way people were being killed, they should just look for where to find the razor. If Isaiah was attached to anything it was probably that razor. He had killed his family and himself with it.
Around one in the morning Sarah showed up at their door, teary-eyed and shocked but determined.
"Are you all right?" Sam asked, letting her in.
"No, actually. I just lied to the cops and told them I went to Evelyn's alone and found her like that."
"Thank you."
"Don't thank me. I'm about to call 'em right back if you don't tell me what's goin' on. Who's killing these people?"
Sam looked at Dean, wondering how much he should tell her. Dean raised his eyebrows and nodded, giving Sam the go-ahead to tell the truth.
"Okay," Sam said and looked back at Sarah. "It's not who. It's what is killing these people."
Sarah shook her head, obviously confused at the direction the conversation had taken.
"Sarah, you saw that painting move," Alyson said from the table. She'd been sitting there since before Sam had come back. She'd become excited when she'd seen the doughnuts and had demolished three of them.
"No. No, I was seeing things. It's impossible."
"Yeah, well, welcome to our world," Dean said.
"Sarah, I know this sounds crazy, but we think that that painting is haunted."
"You're joking," she said and stared at Sam. When nobody said anything she turned away from him and said, "You're not joking. Wow, the guys I go out with."
"Sarah, think about it," Sam said. "Evelyn, the Telescas . . . They both had the painting, and there have been others before that. Wherever this thing goes, people die, and we're just tryin' to stop it. And that's the truth."
"Well, then I guess you better show me. I'm coming with you."
"What? No. You should just go home. This stuff can get dangerous and –"
And he didn't want Sarah getting hurt – or worse. He wasn't just talking about her heart being broken either. She could physically get hurt or she could die. This was nothing to play around with.
"Look, you guys are probably crazy," Sarah said, stepping closer to him, "but if you're right about this . . . Well, me and my dad sold that painting and we might have gotten those people killed. And I'm not saying I'm not scared because I am, but I'm not gonna run and hide either."
Sarah ended up staying with them until around four, and then the whole group decided to drive by Evelyn's again just to see if the police were done with the place.
Luckily no one was around when they got there. Alyson had been asleep in the backseat, and Dean hadn't wanted to wake her, but she'd gotten out of the car when he had put it in park. He, Sarah, and Aly were just waiting for Sammy to get the door unlocked.
"Uh, isn't this a crime scene?" Sarah asked when the door was finally opened.
"Well, you've already lied to the cops. What's another infraction?"
They went into the living room where the painting had been. The painting was still there, of course, but the body wasn't. Alyson froze beside him and he knew she must've been looking at the bloodstain that had been left behind from the murder.
He tapped Alyson's shoulder and she looked at him. He shook his head to let her know she shouldn't be looking at the blood. She nodded back and then pointedly looked at anything other than the blood.
"Um, aren't you worried that it's gonna, you know, kill us?" Sarah asked.
"No," Sam answered. "It seems to do its thing early in the night. I think we're alright right now."
Sam went to the wall and gingerly took the painting down and leaned it against the fireplace it had been hanging above.
"What're you guys looking for?"
"Well, if the spirit's changing aspects of the painting, maybe it's doing so for a reason," Dean answered.
Sam pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and handed it to Dean. It was the copy they had gotten from the library.
Dean brought the paper down so Alyson could see too. Even though the situation was far from pleasant he found it amusing that the blond was so short.
"The razor," she said. "It's closed in this one, but it's open in that one."
Dean looked back and forth between the painting and the picture. "Good job. And it makes sense considering how these people died."
"Hey, look at this," Sam said. "The painting in the painting."
In the picture from the library, Isaiah and his family were standing in front of a painting of what looked like mountains. In the actual painting the family was standing in front of a painting of a building.
"Looks like a crypt or mausoleum or something. There's a word on there, but it's too small to see."
Alyson picked up a crystal ashtray that had been on a table by the bloodstained chair.
"Here," she said and handed it to him.
He put the ashtray up to the painting and saw the word 'Merchant'. So it was a mausoleum – probably theirs.
"So, what, their ashes are there or somethin'?" Alyson asked.
"Maybe. Maybe something else."
Dean wondered why the librarian hadn't known about this place. Or maybe he had and just hadn't told them. Aly had probably scared him – well, maybe not scared – or upset him by having not shared in his excitement over the merchant family murders.
"So we just check each graveyard until we find the one this thing is in?" Sarah asked.
"Yeah, pretty much," Sam said.
The first graveyard they went to didn't yield any results and they didn't have any luck with the second one either. By the time they got to the third one. Alyson felt like a zombie. Maybe she needed to recaffienate
"I think this ghost is just messing with us."
She rubbed her hands over her face to wake herself up. She just wanted to go to bed for a few hours – or maybe more like twelve hours.
"So . . . this is what you guys do for a living?" Sarah asked.
"Not exactly," Sam said. "We don't get paid."
"Well, Mazel Tov."
The four continued through the cemetery until Sam stopped walking. He pointed to a building that had the word Merchant engraved on the front of it.
Alyson and Sarah followed the guys over to the mausoleum and Alyson waited patiently for Dean to open the door.
The first thing Alyson noticed was spider webs and cobwebs. The four walls were lined with four urns and there was a glass case that had a doll in it. It looked like the one the little girl was holding in the painting.
"Okay, that right there is the creepiest thing I've ever seen," Sarah said.
As soon as all four of them were in the mausoleum Alyson started feeling claustrophobic.
"It was sort of a tradition at the time," Sam explained, looking at the doll. "Whenever a child died, they would preserve the kid's favorite toy in a glass case next to the headstone in a crypt.
"You notice anything strange here?" Dean asked, pointing at the urns.
Alyson immediately knew what he was talking about. She may not have been doing this for very long, but she had been pretty quick on the uptake her whole life. There were only four urns. The mom and the three kids' urns were lined up in a row.
"Daddy dearest isn't here," she said.
"Well, where is he?" Sam asked.
Dean shrugged. "I don't know. But I know somewhere we can find out."
Sam and Dean shared a knowing look. Then both said, "The Police Station."
Back in the car, Alyson fell almost immediately to sleep. When they reached the Police Station Dean went to get the information while Sam and Sarah stayed in the car with Alyson.
"I don't get it. What exactly is he going to do in there?" Sarah asked.
"Search county death certificates, try to find out what happened to Isaiah's body."
"How's he even gonna get through the door?"
"Lying and subterfuge, mostly," Sam answered. He laughed softly, but Alyson stirred and moaned a little, so he stopped.
She wasn't used to this 'up for days at a time' thing – she needed all the rest she could get. He motioned for Sarah to get out of the car, so as quietly as the could they did just that.
"Sam, can I ask you something?"
"Yeah, sure."
"I don't mean to be forward, but a girl could wait here forever. Is there something here, between us? Or am I delusional?"
"You're not delusional."
Sam felt a sad smile pull at his lips. He had talked a little about his loss with Sarah when he'd had dinner with her because she had suffered loss herself.
"But there's a but coming."
"But . . . I don't think this would be a good idea."
"Can I ask why?"
"Because I like you."
Sarah laughed a little and Sam realized how crazy what he'd said had sounded.
"Wait, you lost me," she said. "This is wrong because you like me?"
"Look, it's hard to explain. It's just when people are around me . . . I don't know, they get hurt." Sam shook his head. "I mean, like, physically hurt. With what my brother and I do, it's . . . dangerous. I had a girlfriend and she died. And my mom died too. I don't know, it's like I'm cursed or something, like death follows me around.
"Look, I'm not scared of much, but if I let myself have feelings for anybody . . ."
A look of understanding entered Sarah's eyes. "You're scared they'd get hurt, too. That's very sweet, and very archaic."
"Sorry?"
"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."
"I'm not talking about a broken heart and a tub of Haagen Daz. I'm talking about life and death."
"And tomorrow I could get hit by a bus. That's what life is. Look, I know losing somebody you love – it's terrible. You shut yourself off. Believe me, I know. But when you shut out pain, you shut out everything else too."
Sam knew she was thinking about losing her mother. She'd told him about how she'd basically stopped living her life when her mom had passed away, but she'd realized it wasn't something her mom would've wanted for her.
"Sarah, you don't understand. The pain that I went through . . . I can't go through it again. I can't."
They were silent until they saw Dean come out of the police station. They all got back in the car and as soon as they did, Alyson woke up.
Dean watched through the rearview mirror as Aly woke up and immediately grabbed at her neck and began massaging. He winced as memories of him and Sam sleeping in the car came to mind. It really wasn't good for necks, and she had fallen asleep with her head pressed against the side window.
"You okay?" Sam asked her from the front seat.
"No," she groaned. "How long was I asleep?"
"At least an hour," Dean said, considering the time he'd spent in the police station. "I thought you would've been out way longer than that."
"Me too." Aly grimaced. "The headache medicine is back at the motel."
"Well, we'll stop by there, okay?"
"Mm, thank you."
Dean wondered why she wasn't healing – how was it possible for her not to feel well if her body could heal from having her stomach torn open? A headache shouldn't bother her at all, right? Or maybe the healing thing only applied to wounds.
"So, what'd you get?" Sam asked.
"Pay dirt," Dean said, thankful Sam had changed the direction his mind had been heading in. Dean started the Impala and handed Sam some papers he'd folded up and shoved in his jacket pocket. He began to drive as he spoke.
"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 handed 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."
"So, there are bones to burn?" Alyson asked.
"There are bones to burn. We have to wait for nightfall, though. Diggin' up a grave in broad daylight is sort of against the law."
"It's against the law, period, Dean."
"Not if you don't get caught."
Dean quickly checked Alyson's reaction through the mirror again and saw she was grinning and shaking her head. He figured if she felt better and weren't so tired she might argue with him – playfully, of course. That could be fun; Sam wasn't usually in the mood to banter.
"So what do we do until tonight?" Sarah asked.
"We just have to wait," Sam answered.
"At the motel, right?" Aly asked pleadingly. "Where there's a nice comfy bed and Excedrin?"
"Yeah, and you can get some rest," Dean said.
Dean had to keep reminding himself that Aly wasn't used to staying up for long periods of time. They would have to allow time for her body to adjust, and if that meant letting her take naps throughout the day, then that's what they would do.
The next time Alyson was aware of her surroundings it was because Dean had shaken her awake. It took her a moment to realize where she was because she didn't remember getting out of the car at all and now she was in a bed.
"Come on, we're gonna go eat," he said.
"Do I have to?"
"You need to eat something. You haven't eaten all day."
"Can't you just bring me something back?"
Dean sighed. "I'm not leaving you alone. Besides, if you don't get up now, you'll be up all night."
"Okay, okay. Where are we going?"
"Just some diner up the street."
"Okay, well, let me at least make myself presentable. My hair is probably a mess."
Alyson stood up and realized that Sarah and Sam weren't in the room.
"Where's Sam?"
"He and Sarah are waitin' in the car."
"Why didn't you just say that? I would've gotten up quicker."
Dean shrugged. "Go do your hair, or whatever you're gonna do."
Alyson grabbed her brush from her bag and went to the bathroom. She didn't shut the door because she was only going to brush her hair.
"Hey, are you feelin' better?" he asked.
"Yeah, for the most part. My neck is still a little sore. Guess my healing thing doesn't cover stiffness of muscles.
Alyson ended up putting her hair up in a ponytail because her curly locks didn't want to cooperate when she brushed them, and then she was ready to go.
It wasn't until they were actually seated in the diner that Alyson even realized how hungry she was. She wasn't even able to give Dean her leftover food, which had become par for the course for them; she ate it all this time.
As soon as the four got done eating Dean paid and they left. Sam and Sarah sat in the backseat and since Dean was driving, that left the passenger seat for Alyson.
Alyson began rifling through the box of cassette tapes Dean kept on the floor in the front seat. She finally found the tape she'd been looking for and she popped it in the player on the radio.
Foreigner's 'Hot Blooded' came through the speakers and she began singing along with the lyrics. Foreigner was one of her favorite classic rock bands.
Now that they were headed off to finish this case Alyson began thinking everything over. They'd gone to the Merchant crypt or mausoleum or whatever because Isaiah had led them there, but it didn't really make sense that he would do that unless he wanted them to know he hadn't been cremated.
"Hey, guys? Does Isaiah want to be put to rest or something? Because he's pretty much leading us right to his body. I mean . . . all the changes in the painting, it's like he wants to be found."
"Either way, when we burn the bones it'll be over," Dean said.
"Yeah, okay, but you said that the other night too, and we both know how that turned out."
"Touché," Dean said. "Okay. It should be over then."
Alyson hoped that was the case, but it still felt wrong to her.
The cemetery they ended up at just happened to be the first one they'd checked this morning. It was too bad they hadn't known then what to look for.
"Do you have the plot number?" Alyson asked. "Please tell me you do."
"I do," Dean said, nodding. "Which is good because if I didn't this would take forever.
Sam and Dean got shovels from the Impala's trunk. Neither guy had a problem with a woman digging if she wanted to, but they only had two shovels so they would be the ones to do the work.
Sarah and Alyson carried lighter fluid, salt, and two flashlights. Dean told them not to turn on the flashlights until they got deeper into the cemetery.
It took about four hours for Sam and Dean to finally get done digging. Dean remembered when he and Sam first started digging up graves; it would've taken them twice as long.
Sarah had seemed pretty nervous when they'd first reached the plot number Isaiah had been buried at. Dean considered that normal human behavior; Aly had seemed pretty nervous as well, but she was probably more nervous about getting caught than anything else.
Either way Aly had made small talk with the other girl to take her mind off of what they were doing.
"You guys seem to be uncomfortably comfortable with this," Sarah said, and Sam looked up from his spot in the hole in the ground.
"Yeah, well, this isn't exactly the first grave we've dug. Still think I'm a catch?"
Sam hopped out of the hole to stand with the girls, and Dean brought his shovel down to get one last shovelful of dirt. He then used the shovel to break open the coffin – if one could call a pine box a coffin. Inside the box were Isaiah's bones. There were cobwebs and probably bugs in the box. Dean liked bugs about as much as girls did, so he was careful when he had to move around the hole they had dug.
When he was finally up top with the others he picked up the can of lighter fluid and started pouring it over the bones while Sam did the same with the salt. Dean pulled out a box of matches and lit one, then threw it on the bones.
"You've been a real pain in the butt, Isaiah."
"So, the painting is harmless now?" Sarah asked as the fire spread over the bones.
"Yeah, it should be," Sam said, "but we're gonna bury the sucker just in case."
Dean knew they had to wait for the bones to burn completely. Regular fire wouldn't turn bone to ash, but it would burn them enough to purify them. After that, they would head back to Evelyn's mansion.
The car came to a stop in front of the mansion and Sam told Dean to keep the moto running in case something happened.
"I wanna come with you," Sarah said.
"You sure?"
"Yeah."
They both got out of the car and Sam said they'd be back in a minute. Once inside the house, Sam led Sarah to where the painting had been earlier.
"Uh, Sam . . . you're the expert on all this ghost stuff. Is the painting supposed to look like that?"
What Sarah meant was that the girl from the painting was missing; the girl and the razor.
An eerie, girlish laughter filled the room and the air became chilled.
Sam had every intention of running back outside and dragging Sarah with him. He knew a spirit was around; he assumed the spirit belonged to the little girl and judging by the cause of death in the other cases, she used the razor blade that was now missing from the painting.
They were going to be attacked, and this was the very reason he hadn't wanted to bring Sarah along. He needed to get her out before anything could happen to her.
But on the way to the door, it slammed shut.
"Uh, where are Sam and Sarah?" Alyson asked as the door slammed shut.
She and Dean had been listening to music when they'd both heard the bang of the door. They reached to open their respective car door when they didn't see Sam or Sarah.
Dean was now running to the front door and Alyson was following as quickly as she could. They ducked under the yellow crime scene tape, and when they finally made it to the door it wouldn't budge. Dean tried his hardest, shoving with his whole body, but the door remained shut.
"Dean?" Alyson heard Sam's voice through the door and let a sigh of relief pass through her lips. "Hey! Is that you?"
"Yeah, you all right?"
Dean's phone rang almost instantly and he answered with, "Tell me you slammed the front door."
"No, it wasn't me. I think it was the little girl." Sam must've been standing right behind the door because Alyson could still hear him just fine.
"The girl? What girl?" Dean asked. "The daughter?"
"Yeah, she's out of the painting. I think it might've been her all along."
"Hey, wasn't the dad looking down at her?" Alyson asked. "Maybe he was tryin' to warn us."
Alyson had known the Isaiah thing hadn't felt right, but she hadn't trusted her instincts enough to pursue that pathway with Sam and Dean. She had mentioned it, of course, but she still hadn't believed in herself enough to ever think she could've been right.
Dean got the lock pick out of his jacket pocket and he knelt down to get to work on the door.
"Look, I'm tryin' to pick the lock, but the door won't budge."
"Well, then break it down."
"Okay, genius, let me grab my battering ram."
"Dean, the thing is coming!"
"Well, you're gonna have to hold it off until I figure somethin' out. Get some salt or iron."
"How're we gonna get rid of her?" Alyson asked Dean.
Sam was the one who answered. "I don't know. She was already cremated; there's nothing left to burn."
"Well, then, how's she still around?" Dean asked.
"There must be somethin' else." After a few seconds pause, Sam continued, "Guys? Sarah says the doll might have the girl's hair. Human remains, same as bones."
"The mausoleum," Alyson said, quickly putting two and two together.
It seemed that as soon as Dean had a destination, he was ready to go because he flipped the phone closed and began running to the car. Alyson quickly followed him. She figured he'd probably leave her there if she didn't keep up.
This was Sam they needed to save, after all.
When they got to the gates of the cemetery, Dean didn't even slow down; he sped right through them, knocking them down.
"I'm sorry, baby," he said.
They made their way to the mausoleum – car and all – and when they reached it they both got out of the car and raced toward it. Dean opened the doors and went to the glass case with the doll in it and started banging on it with his fist and that didn't work.
Needing something heftier, he brought his gun out of his jacket and used the butt of the gun to hit it. That didn't work either. The glass must've been inches thick.
"Dean?" Alyson called out and he turned to her. "Shoot it."
Dean blinked and looked at the gun, embarrassed. Dean shrugged, chalking it up to being worried about Sam, and moved away from the case to stand in front of Alyson. He had to shield her body in case the glass sprayed everywhere.
He had to shoot the case twice before a hole formed, and the rest was easy to shatter after that.
"So, how come you didn't get the tinglies from this when we were here earlier?" Dean asked Alyson as he picked up the doll from the display case.
He wasn't angry at her and had no right to be, but he was curious. In all his years of hunting Dean had never come across something human that could heal the way she did, and that raised the question of whether Aly really was human or not.
If she wasn't, did it matter? She was only seventeen and she wasn't hurting anyone.
"I don't know," she answered. "This is new to me too, Dean."
Dean took a lighter from his pocket and lit the doll's hair on fire. The stench of burning hair filled the mausoleum and Dean held his breath for a few seconds.
Dean called Sam to make sure he was okay, which he was, and then he and Alyson made their way back to the car.
"What would make a little girl do something like that?" she asked as they started off to pick Sam and Sarah up.
"I don't really care," Dean answered honestly. "It's over; we move on."
It was only after Dean had answered – or at least responded to Alyson's questions – that he realized she was shaking a little.
"You okay?" he asked, to which she shrugged.
"I'll be okay. I'm just gonna have to –" she broke off and Dean noticed as she caught her bottom lip between her teeth.
She must've bitten hard because she winced and her tongue darted out to soothe the sting.
"You'll have to what?"
"Get used to being in danger," she said softly. "And you guys being in danger. I mean . . . I've been in life-threatening situations that no one should have to be in, situations that shouldn't even be possible, ya know?"
Dean did know, and he didn't really know what to say. He'd been doing this his whole life and, well, he still wasn't used to it – or at least not in the way one usually gets used to things. He'd accepted this as his life; it was something he couldn't change, so he had just begun to go with it – mostly because it was what his dad had wanted.
Dean was surprised when Alyson started sniffling and a few tears slipped from her eyes to slide slowly down her cheeks. He was at a loss of what to do. Comforting girls was not his thing. He wished Sam was here; Sam would be able to help her feel better right away.
"Well . . ."
She looked at him beseechingly, as if she expected him to have all the answers.
"You're safe now," he said. "Nothing life-threatening here. Unless you consider my charming personality dangerous."
She smiled slightly and said, "Very dangerous."
Dean felt an alarming desire to pull this girl into his arms because he could tell she was frightened – she was a frightened child that needed to be comforted.
"We should get back to Sam and Sarah," she said and wiped her eyes, getting back to business.
Disappointment and relief raced through Dean's veins as he started the car.
Alyson stayed in the car when they reached the mansion Sam and Sarah were at. Dean, however, was out of the vehicle as soon as it was in park. Alyson watched him run to Sam, who was waiting on the sidewalk with Sarah, and check him over. From what she could tell, Sam was fine; Sarah, however, had a busted lip. It was no longer bleeding, but the sore was still there.
After Dean was satisfied that Sam was okay he got back in the car. Sam and Sarah got in the back. Everyone was silent at first so Dean turned the radio on and music filled the car. It wasn't loud like he usually had it.
Alyson heard Sam and Sarah start to whisper in the back. She didn't want to intrude on the moment, but it was hard not to hear everything since they were in close quarters.
"So I guess this means you're leaving," Sarah said sadly.
Sam didn't answer right away. Alyson figured it was because they were all in the car together. He probably wanted to wait until he and Sarah were in private.
Dean must've been listening too because he spoke loudly enough for everyone to hear.
"Ya know, I'm the one who burned the doll, destroyed the spirit, but don't thank me or anything!"
Alyson smiled. She was feeling much better than she had been moments ago as they'd left the cemetery. She'd had a moment of weakness and she'd let everything get to her.
"Dean? Don't you think your ego has been stroked enough for one lifetime?"
"No," he said seriously and Alyson shook her head.
Dean was such a goof. He was also uncomfortable comforting people, she'd found out earlier. It was okay. She wasn't comfortable accepting comfort from men; she'd never really experienced it before. Actually, she didn't like accepting comfort from anyone, really. She didn't know what would've happened if Dean had tried anything but talking to her earlier.
When they pulled up to Sarah's place Sarah told all of them bye and pointedly thanked Dean – probably because of his earlier comment about not being thanked.
Sarah got out of the car and walked toward her door. She was walking slowly, as if she was waiting on something or someone.
"Sam, go after her," Alyson said.
"Alyson . . ." he started but trailed off.
"Don't Alyson me," she said. "I'm not the most experienced person, but even I know if two people like each other they should kiss. So . . . go for it."
Sam looked almost convinced but he still wasn't getting out of the car. Alyson wasn't completely sure why he wasn't moving, but if he was anything like her he was probably trying to logic his way through this.
"Think about it, Sam. When we leave which would you regret more? Kissing her and leaving or never getting that experience?"
"Okay, okay," Sam muttered and reached for the door handle.
"That's what I thought."
Alyson was all for free will; sometimes, however, people needed a nudge in the right direction.
She grinned as Sam called out to Sarah and caught up to her on the porch. He grabbed her and she smiled as his lips came toward hers. He even waved to Dean to go on when Sarah opened the door to let him in.
"I guess he's staying, then," Alyson said and giggled.
"Hm."
The car started and Alyson turned her attention to the road. As the car started moving, Alyson looked at Dean, only to notice he was smiling. The smile was genuine and it made her smile too. Dean actually looked happy.
"What?" she asked.
He shrugged. "You're awesome."
"I just did what needed to be done. Most regrets people have at the end of the day are because of chances they've passed up. Sam chose not to have that regret."
By the time they reached their motel room Dean was in serious mode again. He began packing up his stuff so they'd be able to hit the road as soon as they woke up the next morning.
Things had been silent for a while when Dean said, "You know, your instincts are really good. I won't forget that."
Alyson was happy Dean was acknowledging that there had been times during this case when she'd been right or when she'd had a feeling something was wrong. She didn't blame him for doubting her – she hadn't trusted herself, so how could she expect him to? Confidence in your self does influence whether others will have confidence in you as well.
"You were right and I didn't listen," Dean said, and Alyson understood that he was blaming himself for being hardheaded.
"Dean, I wouldn't have listened to me either. I mean, I am new at this. We can use this experience for future reference, yeah?" She grinned. "Just remember the girl is always right!"
Okay, there it is. Please leave a review because I'm really not sure I'm getting the guys down for the POV. This easier then writing in first person in theory, but harder in reality because I have to think for all the characters now since it's not just in Alyson's POV. Do you like the changes? Are they not needed? Am I adding too much now or is it okay?
