well, this chapter took forever!! super sorry for the long delay, but i just couldnt get this chapter written for the life of me. it just never felt right. but, hopefully, i have gotten it to come together.

thank you all once again for the great reviews, they really do mean alot to me. as always, let me know what you think of the newest chapter.

ETERNAL

Chapter 13

The voices of the other guests had been growing steadily louder as the trio made their way back towards their quarters, the place surprisingly busy for such a late hour. It seemed that nearly everyone was in the halls mingling, drinking, and exchanging rumors, none of them knowing just who's company they were actually in. But then, based on everything he had seen and heard in the past few hours, Dean wasn't sure if anyone at the party would even bat an eyelash if they found out their host was a five hundred year old murderer. Nope, as long as they got their free booze and three hundred dollar a plate dinners they didn't really seem to care.

"Sam!" A voice echoed down the hall, Dean tightening the grip on his gun just as Sam pushed him back behind a pillar. He was about to argue when he saw the owner of the voice approaching.

"Hello, Charlotte." Sam smiled curtly, pulling Kerri a bit closer as the older woman's eyes roamed hungrily over Sam's body. And Dean couldn't help but smirk, his little brother was so never gonna live this down.

"I've missed you." She began, sliding her hand seductively up and down Sam's arm, completely ignoring the fact that Kerri was still holding on to said arm. "I set Chetling out to find you, but he came back empty handed."

No surprise there. Dean thought to himself, watching the scene play out before him. He didn't know if it was the fact that he really didn't like the woman, or something more sinister, either way, his mind kept screaming that this was not a coincidence. And then it occurred to him, maybe Bramhurst wasn't working alone.

"I'm sorry, but my wife's been sick. You do understand." Sam nodded, pulling his arm away from the woman, and pulling Dean back into the moment.

"She seems fine now."

"Actually, Sam." Kerri began, rubbing her forehead and leaning into the taller man. "I'm starting to feel a little dizzy."

Dean's heart jumped up into his throat, Sam wrapping his arm tightly around Kerri's back as she swayed. He didn't know what was happening, not entirely, but he believed her when she said she could feel herself dying, that she was afraid she wouldn't wake again. Kerri was not the kind of person that was afraid to die, it was a fact of life that she had come to accept long before, but he also knew she would do anything for him, even accept a possibly toxic drink if it meant she could stick around long enough for him to fix his mistakes.

But now, even with the drink, she was fading again, and the realization that she may never leave that mansion hit the hunter like a ton of bricks. She had been so much to him over the years, even during the time they'd spent apart she was still there, still in his mind, still in his heart. Because, when push came to shove, they had saved each other over and over again, and he just couldn't let that all end now.

"Can we go lay down, Sam?" Kerri asked, her voice weak and shaky.

Dean and Sam met eyes for a second before Sam nodded his good-bye to a very put out looking Charlotte, guiding Kerri back to the room, his arm around her waist. Dean made it around the bend undetected, meeting up with his brother and Kerri in the small deserted corridor that contained their room.

Her face was buried in Sam's chest, her arms wrapped around his waist. Dean looked her over trying to look into her face, to see if she was still with him, if there was still life in her eyes.

"Is she gone?" Her muffled voice asked, not nearly as weak as it had been a few moments before.

"Yeah." Dean began, standing before them as Sam stopped. "How're you feeling? Do you need to lay down, do you need me to carry you?"

"Thanks for the offer, but no, I'm fine." Kerri smiled pulling away from Sam like nothing had happened. "What?"

"You were joking?" Dean began, his anger barely masked.

"No, I was helping Sam get away from the leach."

"But, you're really fine. You're not tired or dizzy or anything?" Dean asked again, gripping her shoulders tightly as he searched her eyes for any hint of a lie. But there was none to be found.

"None of the above. I'm fine, Dean."

"You scared the hell out of me. I thought you were gonna freaking drop right there." Dean released her, pushing her back towards Sam and stalking away down the hall and to their room, leaving the two other hunts staring at his back, shock written all over their faces.

But he didn't care. He knew why Kerri had played sick, knew she had good intentions, but she shouldn't have done it, plain and simple. It was too close to home, to reminiscent of the last few hellish hours. It wasn't something funny, wasn't something to be laughed at later. She was dying, and Dean couldn't focus on anything other than stopping it.

"Dean."

But Dean didn't want to talk, didn't want to listen to her tell him that this wasn't his fault, that she didn't blame him. He didn't care if she had forgiven him, if she was taking the high road, because there was no high road to take. He had brought her on this hunt, and now she was dying. It was his fault and no one else's and he didn't want her to waste what could be her last breaths trying to make him feel better. He didn't need protecting, didn't need someone to watch over him. He was supposed to be there for her, not the other way around.

He disappeared into the room, the dim emergency lights doing little to illuminate the large space. He hated that room, hated everything about that damn house, about the whole freaking hunt. After all, it wasn't a house, it was Kerri's tomb. If he couldn't figure this out then he was going to have to leave her there, and he knew that, once he was gone, he wouldn't be able to get back. No, Bramhurst was playing with them, using them to further his own twisted needs, and Dean could feel the weight of it all pressing down upon him.

Because, if he lost her now, he would be losing her forever, past and future. There was no way he would ever be able to set foot in Valley again if he knew she wouldn't be there. He would never be able to let his mind wander back to happier times like he had done over the years, letting himself fall away into the past when life became to hard. No, he would never be able to do any of that if she was gone, if he knew that he had killed one of the best things in his life. She had saved him over twenty years ago, had pulled him back from the darkness, and this was how he was to repay her?

Kerri and Sam entered the room a few minutes later, Sam going directly to the blueprints he has printed. They needed a plan, preferably one that would actually work, and they needed it fast. Dean figured there had to be some weakness they were over looking, some loophole to get Kerri out of danger and still destroy the painting. And he trusted that Sam would be able to find it. There was always a way to win, always a way to destroy even the most evil of things, you just had to find it before the bad guy found you.

"Hey, Dean, I'm sorry." Kerri began, though Dean didn't want to hear any of it.

"Look, Ker, why don't you just rest, Sam and I will figure out a game plan. Then we can get the hell out of here, and bring you home where you belong." Dean ordered, not meeting her gaze.

He knew he was hurting her, knew she was capable of handling herself, and the hunt, but he also knew that he didn't want her there. If keeping her safe meant locking her in her house, then that was what he was going to do.

"Uh, ok."

Dean watched as Kerri walked into the bathroom, the door closing softly behind her. He sighed, knowing he had been harsh, but also knowing that there was nothing else he could have done. He just wanted this all to be over with, then he could leave Kerri alone to live her life in peace. That is, if he managed to save her from his latest mistake.

6666666666

Kerri leaned against the ornate sink, staring long and hard at the reflection in the mirror. She looked ok, felt alright, but she knew it was all nothing more than an allusion. She was sick, dying, and she

knew it was only a matter of time before whatever that painting did to her started to take its toll. In all truth, it had already started taking from her, had already started making it's presence known. It was dragging them all down, wearing them away, breaking their spirits, and she didn't know how much longer any of them could last.

This had been her fault, of that she was certain, and she knew she had to find someway to fix it. Dean had promised to keep her safe, but she had unwittingly done everything she could do to put herself in danger. But she hadn't thought of it that way, not at the moment. It wasn't that she thought she was invincible, it was just that she really didn't see the danger in things until it was too late. It was a problem her dad once told her she had had since birth, and she just wished she could figure out how to stop leaping before she looked.

She stood there for a few more minutes, staring deeply into the mirror, willing herself to find someway, anyway to fix this. She had never seen Dean explode like that before had never felt his eyes burn into her like that. It was both terrifying and mesmerizing to see. His eyes took on a fire as he spoke, his voice betraying the anger his body barely contained. And all Kerri wanted to do was help him, take away the fear she knew was boiling just beneath his stoic surface.

Her eyes drifted around the room as she thought, finally landing on the open grate behind her. The walls. In all the commotion of the past few hours she had completely forgotten that Dean had begun the night inside the walls, and, if their bathroom had a larger grate, then the other bathrooms probably had them, too. She wouldn't be gone long, all she needed to do was get to Bramhurst's room, to see if there was anything there she'd missed, anything that could help them. She repeated that to herself as she climbed through the vent, her mind set. She could fix this, figure it out, and then all three of them could put this case behind them.

She was too far along in her search to hear the knock on the bathroom door, to far down to hear Sam's worried voice call through the wood. No, she had an idea, and she didn't want either brother to try and talk her out of it.

6666666666

Sam rubbed his face, watching his brother as the older man sat beside him, his shoulders slumping, eyes dull and distant. Sam knew the toll this was all taking on Dean, had seen it as the hours progressed, as Kerri slowly drifted away. But, he also knew that it was no one person's fault. They had gone into this without all the information, he and Kerri had been separated, and then someone went and pistol whipped him while he was innocently walking down the hall. Well, maybe not innocently, but he didn't really think he deserved that either.

And now, well now they were without power in the middle of one of the worst storms Sam had ever seen. They thought they would have to spend just one night there, but, as things were shaping up, it seemed like they may be stuck there for quite a few more days. But Sam knew that, for the three of them, that would not be possible. They had to end this, as fast as they could, and biting each other's heads off wasn't going to help.

"You know, she was just trying to help."

"I don't really need this right now, Sammy."

"I'm just saying, you didn't have to jump down her throat like that."

"Can we just focus on the case we're on and not our feelings."

"Whatever, dude."

"Did you find anything useful, Sam?"

"Not really." Sam began with a sigh, glancing at the bathroom door before turning back towards the computer. "The painting itself is mentioned in celtic mythology, so it has to be thousands of years old."

"How do you think Bramhurst got it?"

"Honestly? I think he found it."

"What makes you think that?"

"Well, the earliest mention I could find of a William Bramhurst was in 1504."

"Damn, that puts things in perspective."

"Tell me about it. From what I could find he lived in Brittany. He was a struggling artist, and, one day, he just became amazing. Coincidentally, he had stumbled upon an abandoned property two weeks prior. Now, here's the kicker, a lot of people associated his sudden stroke of brilliance with grief. Apparently, his beloved wife died three days before he started painting master pieces."

"Was his wife an artist?" Dean asked, already rifling through several piles of paper.

"Uh, yeah, actually. A lot of people claimed that she painted them, then he had her killed and claimed the fame. But he did a live painting as a demonstration and that pretty much ended that."

"I don't believe it."

"What?"

"All the girls, each and every one of them was an artist."

"Are you serious?"

"Yup. All fifteen girls were struggling artists, asked to the mansion by William. Apparently, none of them were really the rich and famous type."

"That's exactly what Charlotte said."

"Come again?"

"She made a comment to Kerri. She said that each and every missing girl married into their money. She asked if Kerri was just a struggling artist before she met me."

"So, all the missing girls were married?"

"Yeah. All were artists who married are dealers."

"But, why artists?"

"It's almost like the person's talent as well as their youth gets transfered. He's been picking people based off what he wants to learn or do."

"And now he's got a hunter." Dean began quietly, eyes rising from the computer.

Sam knew exactly what he meant. Yes, Kerri was an artist, but more importantly, she was a hunter. And, if William got the girls talent and youth, who's to say that he didn't get their memories as well. And, what Kerri knew could be deadly in the wrong hands.

Kerri's house was like a hub for hunters, a crossroads for the entire community, and it had been that way for well over twenty years. If William Bramhurst wanted to play cat and mouse with hunters, then keeping Kerri would be more important to him than anything.

"You know." Sam began, turning towards the bathroom door, the hairs on the back of his neck suddenly standing on end. "She's been in there a long time."

"Yeah, I'll got check on her."

"Let me. I really don't think she wants to be yelled at again right about now. Just keep looking for a way to destroy that damn thing."

"Yes, Francis." Dean mumbled, turning back towards the screen. He looked up a few minutes later though, the brothers' eyes meeting as Sam continued to knock on the door.

"Come on, Kerri, open up. Dean says he's sorry."

"I do not."

"Would you let me do this?"

"Just kick the damn thing down, Sam." Dean ordered, rising from his chair.

Sam could hear the tension in his brother's voice, see the fear in his eyes. This was all coming to a head and, from what Sam gathered, Bramhurst needed Kerri around to get the painting to work. But how the hell could she disappear from the bathroom.

"Oh shit." Sam breathed, finally kicking in the door, though he knew exactly what he would find on the other side.

The large grate was laying on the floor, the two foot gap in the wall clear and open, and Kerri was nowhere in sight.