Crime Scene
"Sarah, think about it." Sam tried getting her to see the truth. "Evelyn, the Telesca's, they both had the painting and there had been others before that." More like a dozen other victims over the last century. "Wherever this thing goes, people die." Every last man, woman, and child that had been in the home the night the painting was hung. "We're just trying to stop it." Before it happened again to another innocent family. "And that's the truth."
Sarah took a deep breath, trying to force herself to remain calm. "Then I guess you'd better show me." She said firmly, refusing to back down. "I'm coming with you." I scoffed, rich girl with daddy's trust fund wouldn't last two minutes in the ordinary day of a Winchester.
"No, you should just go home." Sam said panicking. "This stuff can get dangerous and...and I don't want you to get hurt."
"Awwww," I teased. What could I say, older sister rights. Besides, even if it was a daddy trust fund kinda girl, at least Sam was finally starting to move on from Jess. "So sweet." Sickening so. Sam glared at me over his shoulder and I waved with a cheeky smile. Dean grinned at Sam's annoyed expression.
But Sarah wasn't backing down. "Look, you three are probably crazy but if you're right about this?" Which we were. "Well me and my dad sold that painting that mighta got these people killed." Not like it was her fault, they didn't know what was up with the painting. "Look, I'm not saying I'm because because I am scared as hell but...I'm not going to run and hide either." Sarah walked out the motel head held high. She stopped in the doorway, "You coming or what?" Then she walked out. You know, I might actual reconsider my opinion enough to like this girl.
"Sam?" Dean said, staring after Sarah. He pointed after her, "Marry that girl."
I laughed as Sam rolled his eyes. "Hey Sam, maybe I can give you away to the bride." I joked. Sam looked at me like I was an idiot but I just kept giggling.
Then we went back to Evelyn's house, the place was surrounded in that yellow 'do not cross' police tape. "Isn't this a crime scene?" Sarah asked nervously. I was standing watch while Sam picked the lock.
"You've already lied to the cops." Dean said, leaning against one of those tall white columns that held up the roof over the porch. "What's another infraction?"
Inside, Sam lifted the heavy painting off the hook and propped it against the wall so we could get a good look at it. "Aren't you worried that it's...gonna kill us?"
"Don't worry so much." I scoffed. "It apparently only had a habit of killing at night."
"So we should be alright in the daylight." Sam said, backing away from the portrait so he could see it all the more clearly.
"Check it out," Dean said, comparing the printing out version against the portrait. "The razor, it's closed in this one but open in the one."
"What are you guys doing exactly?" Sarah asked, nervously tugging on one of her braids. Not for the first time today did she question they're sanity.
"Playing what's the difference." I grumbled. I always hated that game, it was so annoying and I always ended up missing the obvious.
"If the spirit's changing aspects of the pairing, it's doing so for a reason." Dean clarified.
"Hey, look at this." Sam pointed something in the painting. "The painting in the painting."
I leaned closer, over his shoulder and squinting a little but I couldn't really make it out. "What's it supposed to be?"
"Looks like a crypt or a mausoleum or something." Dean suggested. He glanced around before grabbing a fancy only the rich can afford glass ashtray, using it as a magnifying glass. He read the name that could be barely made out on the top center of the mausoleum, "Merchant."
That was our next clue, to head to one of the many cemeteries. Sarah dragged behind nervously while the three of us walked through the graves like we owned the place. "This is the third boneyard we've checked." Dean complained loudly. "I think this ghost is jerking us around."
"So this is what you guys do for a living?" Sarah asked. I wished we did this for a living.
"Not exactly." Sam answered. "We don't get paid."
"Which would be what sucks the most about this gig." I grumbled, remembering all the times I used to sleep in the backseat of whatever car I had stolen the night before. But that was before I got so good hustling pool and darts, and now I had the boys so at least I wasn't alone like I had once been used to most of my life.
"Over there." Dean was first to spot the age old mausoleum. Dean broke the lock and we walked in, me grimacing as I brushed cobwebs aside from getting into my hair. There were four different urns in front of glass cases embedded in the concrete of the mausoleum.
One of the glasses held an old porcelain doll with a lace dress and blond hair. "That right there is the creepiest things I've ever seen." Sarah said, backing away from the doll.
"You said it sister." I agreed but instead of backing away, I got closer to study the doll.
"It was a sort of tradition at the time." Sam explained. "Whenever a child died, sometimes they'd preserve the kid's favorite toy in a glass case, put it next to the headstone or crypt."
A wind suddenly blew past, ruffling my hair. "Notice anything strange here?" Dean asked.
"Where do I start?" Sarah scowled. Sam snickered.
"Some things, you just have to get over to get used to." I commented, tapping the glass with the doll with the tip of my fingernail.
Dean shook his head, "Look at the urns." That was when I realized there were four urns but there were supposed to be five dead family members. The daddy wasn't here with the wife and three kids but he wasn't.