Beta:- My lovely friend and sis…Vonnie

A/N:- Saying thank you for the reviews and support doesn't really seem sufficient, but a big THANK YOU!

Each and every review means so much, just knowing that people are reading and commenting is fantastic.

PORTRAIT

Dean was shaking in fear when he found out that Sam was missing. 'No, no, no, no, no, that can't be happening. I was keeping an eye on him. How could he sneak out like that? Some big brother I am, who can't even keep his only little brother safe.' Dean was thinking wryly while talking with his father. He heard his father gasp when he delivered the news that his youngest son was nowhere to be found.

'Dean? I sent you there to keep an eye on your brother. How could you lose Sammy like that?' John sounded really angry and frustrated.

"I know, I know Dad." Dean threw a fist in the air with overriding anxiety and frustration. "Sammy must have seen me stalking him and he left." He went to the backside of the school ground and looked at the ten feet high wall. 'Not a problem to climb when it comes to a Winchester' he thought and answered. "I am gonna find him Dad. I got some clues about what is going on around here. I am going to get my little brother back."

'Dean, okay listen. Bobby told me something about the thing we're dealing with right now. And I need you to hear me very carefully. After we find that thing we need to… …'

Dean ran outside of the school where his car was parking and nodded in anticipation about what information John was giving him. He saw that Mr. Russell was still there, anxiety was also written in his face.

"Did Bobby tell anything about where we can find that witch?" Dean was pacing in front of impala impatiently.

'No, he couldn't tell exactly where we can find him. But he said that the witch is in this town for sure and that means he's still keeping those missing kids with him.'

"But how we gonna find him Dad? We'll have to search the whole town and we don't have time. And how we gonna detect him, he must be camouflaged."

'Dean, we don't have any choice…'

"But Dad, it will take lots of time. What if he hurts Sammy more or worse if he kills…" Dean's voice trembled with the fear of losing his beloved brother and his eyes welled up.

'Dean…'

"Sh*t Dad." suddenly something spiked into Dean's head. "Wait a minute…there was a paint mark on Sammy's neck and you were telling me that your grandson was talking about some painter right?"

'What? What are talking about son?' John was dumbfounded hearing his oldest son blabbered something insane. 'My grandson?'

"No, no, no, I'm not talking with you Dad." Dean held the call and looked at Mr. Russell who was also dumbfounded seeing the young boy distressed like that. He could sense something very wrong was going on with the young man too and it was now clear to him that some teenage boy, who was supposedly this boy's little brother was missing like his grandson.

He startled when Dean asked him so suddenly about his grandson and some painter and couldn't find the words to reply. He didn't understand what was going on and why the boy was being so concerned about some painter instead of finding their lost children.

"I…I think so. But what…" His voice cut off when Dean interrupted again.

Dean didn't give him an answer instead he kept talking mostly with himself. "That means that thing or painter whatever it is, must need some equipment like colors, brushes etc." He was muttering, his phone still pressed against his ear but totally oblivious of his surrounding. His only concern though was his lost brother. "So he needs to buy them or collect them from somewhere." He suddenly spun towards Mr. Russell and asked. "Mr. Russell, do you know about any paint shop around here?"

"Umm, yeah. There is a paint shop and it is the only paint shop around here. It's a very small town."

"Where is it?"

'Dean, what's going on?'

"Dad, hang on a second." Dean ignored his father and asked the old man again. "Where is it?" His voice was unnecessarily high pitched with raw anxiousness.

"Ah well, couple of blocks away." The old man answered.

"Show me." Dean quickly wrenched open driver side door of his car and slid inside. He gestured the old man to get inside and continued on phone. "Dad, I'm gonna find Sammy. Be prepared, I will call you back." Before John could ask anything else, Dean cut his call off and started the engine.

"Show me."

"Straight that way." The old man pointed his finger to the right direction and Dean revved his car hard.

'Hang on Sammy, I am coming. Big brother is coming.'

The sleek black car came to a halt with a loud screech in front of the local paint shop. Dean Winchester got out of the car and sprinted into the shop, trailed by Mr. Russell. It was a small shop but there were various kinds of paint accessories. A young man in his early thirties was sitting beside the desk, startled when seeing that abrupt entrance of a distressed handsome young man.

"Yes, may I help you young man?"

"Did someone buy something from your shop recently?" The question from Dean came out of blue and that left the shop owner flabbergasted.

"Umm—what!"

Dean was clearly frustrated now. "I asked, did anyone buy paint color or something from your shop lately?"

"Why would I tell you?" Now the shopkeeper sounded annoyed and he craned his head to the old man who was standing behind Dean. "Mr. Russell, what's going on?"

Before the old man could answer the guy, Dean pulled one of his fake badges and flashed it in front of the man's nose. "I am detective Dean Trescott and I'm investigating the case of missing teens in this town." He quickly put the badge inside his pocket and asked in a cold but authoritative voice. "Now, would you answer my question, Sir?"

Dean could sense that Mr. Russell's face fell in awe but he remained stoic.

The shopkeeper was now looking kind of nervous. He swallowed couple of times before answering. "Well, since no one has too much interest in painting, only two or three customers came during this week and bought something."

"Two or three?"

"Umm, three I think." The shopkeeper seemed to be thinking. "Well, one of them bought canvas and color bottles and others bought some loose things."

"Are they locals?"

"Um, yeah. They are all local people." He made a confused face. "But why are you asking me that officer? How come my customers are related to these kidnappings?"

"Well mister, you won't understand." Dean said blatantly. "Now, can you tell me who those people were?"

"Oh sure officer."

"So you know these guys?" Dean asked Mr. Russell after gathering the information he needed.

Mr. Russell nodded. "Yes, I know them. But…" He squinted his eyebrows in confusion.

"What?"

"The second guy he referred, umm…that Mr. Williams, I don't know much about him."

They were walking towards the car, but Dean halted abruptly.

"You don't know the guy?"

"Yes, I know him. He came to live here almost two months ago. I met him one or two time but he didn't seem too fond of neighbors. I tried to talk with him but he deliberately ignored me; well not just me, he practically doesn't talk with anyone."

"And he is a painter and that particular person bought those canvases, paints and other accessories." Dean was mumbling much like talking to himself. "Other two were a kid and a lady and they didn't buy as many things like he did and almost two months ago, these disappearances started happening..." Without any warning Dean again ran into the shop and jumped straight into the question. "Did that Mr. Williams buy some pink or red color recently?"

The shopkeeper jumped again but somehow managed himself to remain passive. He thought for a moment. "I don't remember…" he scratched his head. "…he probably did but exactly what color I can't remember."

"Thank you." As he had entered like a storm, he exited in much the same way, leaving the shopkeeper completely in the dark. He was now absolutely sure that this Mr. Williams had something to do with these kidnappings and this man could be the witch they were searching for.

He quickly got into the car and told no almost ordered the old man who was riding shotgun. "Show me the way." After revving the engine, he quickly pulled his cell phone and punched his Dad's speed dial-

"Dad, we found a clue. Come quickly."

Dean pulled the car up in front of the big bungalow and bolted out of the car. It was a calm and quite environment that made him hesitate to enter the house. But suddenly, something caught his eyes and he ran to it to pick it up.'Oh my god' it was Sam's school bag which was lying carelessly in the lawn.

"Sammy," he whispered and almost immediately straightened himself. He had work to do, the most important work in his life 'saving Sammy'. Sam's life was now dependant on him and he couldn't afford to lose himself. Every second was important, every second he delayed, Sam's life would be slipping away from him.

He quickly got up and jogged towards the impala. He swiftly opened the trunk and took a shot gun and a knife and tucked them in his waistband. He grabbed his favorite 'Desert Eagle' gun and closed the lid with a loud thud.

Mr. Russell was watching him in big surprised. He couldn't believe what he was actually seeing. This young man had a whole arsenal in his car's trunk; he hadn't seen one this large in his whole sixty five years of life.

"So, you're a detective?" Mr. Russell inquisitively asked.

Dean clenched his jaws and his nostrils flared,

"Yes."

"You seem quite young for that job."

Dean bit his inner cheek and desperately swallowed a cuss. He turned to the old man and smiled humorlessly, "I am just lucky." He gave him a knife and told, "Mr. Russell, you stay here and keep this knife with you. My Dad will be here anytime. Don't try to enter the house…"

"You think my grandson is there inside the house?" The old man's eyes beamed with hope.

"Hopefully. As well as my little brother too. I will get them out of here. Just be careful."

Getting a confused nod from the old man, Dean nodded back at him and moved towards the main entrance, but stopped when hearing Mr. Russell call,

"Dean!"

"Yeah?"

"Be careful."

Dean pressed his lips together hardly and turned. "I will." He smiled tightly, 'For Sammy, I have to' and headed towards the door.

Dean quietly picked the lock of the door and stealthily entered the house. As he expected, no one was there; just an uncanny and eerie silence greeted him. He grabbed his gun tightly and tiptoed inside the large drawing room. But unfortunately, there was nothing special except some gorgeous portraits hanging on the wall.

Dean frowned and stepped close to a painting, it was a boy's portrait who seemed around his brother's age. He seemed too familiar, but Dean couldn't recall where he had seen him. He lightly touched the pictured and realized that the painting had been drawn long ago and all the color dried up. But still, it was looking beautiful like other paintings of that room. "Where did I see you, where…" Dean was mumbling, suddenly he recalled he saw that face on TV couple of days ago. He remembered the news reporting that after missing for the last one month, the dead body of exactly this boy had been found besides a deserted road; looking like all blood and meat had been sucked out and only the bony frame had been left to be discovered. But there had been no wound mark or anything on that poor boy's body, he had looked like he died of some kind of blood loss, starvation and dehydration. His breathing sped up as the thought kicked in inside his brain again that his brother, his Sammy was in this witch's clutch. His skin crept cold when he remembered what his father had told him about that Strigoilor thing and what it did to his prey. He had to find his little brother soon before something bad would happen to him.

Dean started frantically searching but there was no sign of his brother in any corner of the large house. He even circled around the bathroom, but there was nothing except emptiness. He wanted to shout, but he didn't want to alert the witch. He knew his brother was here somewhere and he was determined to find him at any cost.

Ten minutes passed and he still didn't have any clue about where his brother was. He was shaking as he entered the drawing room again. "Where are you Sammy, Where are you?" Dean cried in frustration. "Please God, help me to find my brother. Please…" He wasn't a praying person and didn't really believe in the big almighty upstairs; but when his brother's life was at stake, he could do anything…anything for his Sam.

Dean wasn't sure it was his imagination or if he was really hearing something, but he thought he heard a whimper. He straightened his ears and tried to locate where the sound was coming from. Again, he heard someone's low toned muffled voice. Any ordinary person would have missed such low volume, but his hunter's sense didn't miss a bit of it.

He quickly followed the sound and found out that was coming from behind the wall. He frantically scanned the whole wall, but there was no door. But what caught his eyes was a large painting hanging on the wall and its bottom almost touched the floor. Dean frowned and tucked his gun into his waistband and glided his hand along the painting. He was familiar with this kind of situation, he knew that this kind of painting could hide a secret door and he was sure that something was behind this thing.

He pulled the painting off the wall and pushed it, and knowingly discovered a secret door behind it. He kicked it hard and the door burst open and his eyes widened. His breathing got rapid when he saw his brother was sitting on a couch, head bent slightly backward; eyes almost closed, mouth hanging open and something like white mist emanating from it. His eyes roamed to the figure that was painting Sam's portrait and realized with extreme horror that with each stoke, Sam's life force was fading slowly from his body and entering directly into the open mouth of the creature.

Dean screamed his lungs out "NOOOOOO, SAAAAAAAAAAMMMMMY…" and pointed his eagle gun at the painter's head. The creature startled and looked at him, without wasting a single second, he pulled the trigger.

The sound of the heavy bullet echoed in the confined room and as Dean shot the painter in the middle of his forehead. The strigoilor's head jerked back and he wobbled towards the rear. A heavy bruising gun wound formed on his forehead.

A loud screeching sound came from the painter's mouth as soon the bullet hit him. The paint brush he was holding dropped from his hand and his whole figure morphed into his original shell. Dean watched in horror that it was a tall black-grey body with a long scary face. It had long sharp shark like teeth and its face was all black and bony.

"Dude, you're fugly…" Dean gritted his teeth and again fired his gun twice. Both time bullets hit that creature and again with a loud ear deafening scream, as it toppled backward.

"The game's over, you filthy creature." Dean disgustingly spat at the thing and ran towards the couch where his brother was partially lying. Sam's left hand was hanging limply off the armrest and his head was resting on it.

"Sammy, Sammy wake up…" Dean crouched in front of his brother and grabbed his shoulder. He sucked in a breath when he took a better look of his brother. Sam's face was pasty white; his skin unnaturally cold like the kid was hypothermic. He was taking small rugged breaths and minute tremors were coursing through his cold thin body.

"Sam, Sammy please open your eyes. Look your…" Dean's voice cut off when he heard a frantic shout coming from his father's mouth…

"Dean look out…"

Before Dean could understand what was going on or why his father was yelling, he felt a large hand grab his jacket's collar hard and yank him up off his feet. Within a fraction of a second, he was thrown across the room and hit the opposite wall hard. He fell down in a heap and remained still where the strigoilor threw him.

Dean must have blacked out for a couple of seconds, but jolted back to awareness, when he heard a gunshot boom through the room again. He lifted his head and saw his father shoot the thing with rock salt, but that it did practically no harm to the powerful creature.

"You humans think that your weapon can kill something like me? I can not be killed. I am immortal." The creature growled.

"No, you are not." John screamed and suddenly pulled a silver knife from his waistband. "I know how you're going to die. I will kill you for touching my son."

Dean saw with confusion that his father trudged towards Sam's portrait and pulled his knife higher as if he wanted to plunge the sharp object on Sam's body. "I will destroy your portraits, then you will die you son of a b*tch."

Before John could plunge the knife on Sam's portrait, the strigoilor screamed in a horrific pitch and lunged forward. He slapped John hard in the face and his face whapped back. John lost his balance and stumbled on the partially drawn portrait of his youngest son. He toppled hard to the floor entangled with the canvas and unfortunately his knife slipped from his hand and plunged into the portrait near Sam's thigh.

Dean watched in horror, as the sharp object hit his brother's picture, Sam's unconscious body jerked hardly and a pain stricken gasp escaped from his partly parted but slacked lips. Dean's eyes moved to Sam's thigh where a large patch of red suddenly showed on his blue jeans and thick blood started to trail downward.

"Sammy, Dad… Sammy…" Dean shouted in utter horror as the brutal scenario was playing out in front of him. Before his Dad could do something, the nasty creature grabbed him too and threw back to the opposite side.

John grunted in pain when his body hit the floor ungracefully. But his pain was forgotten when he saw his already injured or ill youngest son had been hurt again viciously and this time by his own father and he felt his heart stopping to beat.

He turned his head towards the creature when it started laughing all of a sudden. He tried to lift himself up off the floor, but suddenly realized he could not move his body. He looked at Dean with worried eyes; saw his oldest was struggling too. But they seemed to be pinned on the ground by some supernatural power. He saw that the creature once again morphed into its human form and picked up the canvas from the floor. He smirked mischievously at the senior Winchesters as he spoke,

"You thought you could defeat me you worthless human?" He gritted his teeth. "No you can't. I am immortal, you know why?" He bent again and picked up the fallen paint brush. "The pure and sanctified life forces I sucked from those virgins, made me immortal. If you try to destroy my creation or try to kill me, they will die. Their souls are locked inside it."

Dean felt like crying when he heard those unbelievable words coming from that thing's mouth. He knew that the creature was not lying. They saw what happened when the knife plunged into Sam's picture. If they tried to destroy it, Sammy would die. His blood started to boil as he watched that the nasty thing kneeled down in front of his unconscious brother and touched his face with such gentleness, he screamed. "Don't! Don't you dare touch him you filthy monster. Don't touch him."

The human form of the strigoilor smirked devilishly and looked at Dean. "Don't worry, I won't hurt him." He touched Sam's hair and Dean's breathing became furious. "Well, at least not physically."

He got up from his place and went to the canvas. "You know what…" he started as he stirred the paint brush into the viscous color. "I would have let him live a few days more, if you fools hadn't interrupted. He has such a pure and rare soul, that's hard to find." He swiftly stroked on the canvas and Sam gasped loudly as if this was his last breath. White mist once again started to come out from Sam's open mouth and slowly crept towards the evil entity.

"Noo, no Sammy no…" Dean screamed as fresh tears started to fall from his eyes. "…what am I gonna do Dad. Sammy, no…"

Dean tried to get up again but miserably failed. His eyes were excessively blurry with tears; he didn't hear his father was shouting something.

"Dean, you have to drench the silver knife with Sammy's blood and then plunge it into his vital limb. Then it will die." John screamed again, trying to wake his oldest from his own nightmare. He had to do it, he had to save his baby boy.

This time, Dean heard.

"Sammy's blood?"

"Yes." John was trying to fight against the evil force field. "Only virgin blood can kill that thing. But before we kill that thing, we gotta free Sam's soul that's locked inside the portrait."

"But how Dad? We can't even move. How we gonna save Sammy?" Dean cried in frustration. He looked again at the horrific scene that was playing out in front of his eyes. He could see Sam's entire life force was slowly fading off from him and his breathing became less frequent.

Before John could give him an answer, both Winchesters' eyes became huge in utmost surprise. They couldn't believe what was happening in front of their very eyes.

TBC

Hiding under a rock ...don't shoot me! Really, I thought this was a great place to end this chapter.

Reviews are love. I will post the next chapter Tomorrow.