Provenance

I was gonna kill that man when I got my hands on him. I was gonna break those pretty fingers writing down that woman's number and bite off those beautiful lips that smiled and laughed at that woman. And oh when I got his eyes, I was going to scoop them out and put them in a jar to admire and then bury his penis separately from his body. Oh, and I was going to rip out that eyelid if it winked at me one more time.

"Sharon!" The call of my name from the other bartenders broke me out of my jealousy. "We need beers here!"

"Coming!" I pointed to my eyes and then Dean's. His smirk faltered.

"What's wrong baby?" the woman purred.

"Nothin'." Dean straightened up and grabbed the beers I slammed onto the counter in front of him. "Sorry, but I gotta go."

"Nothing tonight?" That blonde bimbo's hands clung to his arms.

"Oh well." I could feel Dean's green gaze on me as I busied about the bar. "There's definitely somethin' coming tonight." Damn right there was.

I barely made it through the motel room door before Dean had me slammed up against a wall. "I'm gonna kill you." I gripped his shoulder.

"Oh yeah?" He looked like he was enjoying this.

"That blonde tramp– Did you spend the night at her house?"

Dean hitched up my thigh with his large hands to grind his hips against mine. "What do you think?"

I groaned when I felt the bulge behind his zipper. "She clearly couldn't handle you."

"Yeah?" His mouth was hot on my neck. "Then why don't you show me how she should have handled me?"

Oh he was playing a dangerous game here. I dropped my bag on the ground and sank my fingers into his hair. "Oh, Dean Winchester."

"Yeah?" He had the cheekiest smirk. "My lovely Sharon Winchester."

I blushed at my full name. It wasn't often I heard it. We didn't even use our real names when we were in hospitals, let alone the full name. And the way he said it. God, I could come from that alone.

I bucked my hips against his. "That-that feels good.

"Oh I can make you feel better." His other hand grabbed my other thigh and lifted me up easily.

"Sam?" I gasped when he somehow pinched the thick flesh on my thighs.

"Separate room." Dean kissed my lips. "Jerking off to Jess on the phone."

"And how do you know that?"

"He's not exactly subtle."

I yelped as he dropped me down on the bed. I hadn't even noticed that Dean was now standing by the bed. His shirt flew off his head. And his belt was discarded deliciously. Oh hell. I could never get enough of that sight. But he wasn't going to be in control tonight. I was still mad about that blonde from the bar.

I sat up straight and pulled him down by a loop in his jeans. "You're in for a night, Winchester."

He raised an eyebrow. "Oh yeah?"

Damn. I stared at the stained ceiling. That had been good. My thighs burned not just from the pleasure but from the strain of riding the man laying next to me. His chest had red angry marks all over from my nails and the ring digging into his skin. And a purple bruise bloomed right below his collar bone. No deep V necks for him any time soon.

"I should take the lead more often, huh?" I teased.

Dean scoffed. "We both know who was in control." And he wasn't wrong. His hands had been on my hips the whole time, the strength of which had acted as a constant reminder that he could take back control any time. But still, he'd let me lead. And I knew he liked it based on the way the moans left his pretty lips and the way his pretty green eyes rolled back. "But yeah, we should have angry sex more often."

I laughed to myself. "Next time you get some chick's number I might be riding a corpse."

"Didn't take you for the necrophilia type." He pushed himself up. "Shower sex?"

I huffed. "Not enough strength. I'm gonna be sore next morning… or in four hours."

Dean leaned down to kiss my lips. "I'll get you some water. Painkillers?"

I lifted a thigh to gauge how bad it burned. "Nah, I'll be fine."

"Clearly we didn't go hard enough."

"You're putting songs in my head." I groaned.

"Which one?"

"Go Hard by Twice."

"You and your kpop songs." He grumbled playfully. He disappeared from my side, but came back soon with wet towels. My back protested as I sat up. "Need help?"

"I got this." I wiped down the sweat and sticky mess. "Pass me my nightgown would you?"

"You love those things." he tossed a clean one to me along with a fresh pair of underwear. "Oh right."

"Hm?" I looked at Dean who was slipping into his boxers.

"Sammy thinks we have a case here."

I paused with the water bottle halfway up to my lips. "And you're telling me this now?"

Dean grinned. "We were kind of busy."

Busy doing useless things when we could have been helping Sam with whatever it was he was doing. "Sam better be sleeping right now." It was then that I realised we were in a room with two kings. "Where is Sam?" I glared at my husband. "Seriously? You left him outside?"

"He's just sweepin' the Telesca's place with EMF."

"Telescas?"

"Yeah. While you were at the bar blushing at the college kids that walked in…" Oh shoot he'd noticed. "Sammy told me about a series of strange deaths. No prints, no murder weapons, and everything locked from the inside. Dad has at least three similar separate murders noted in the same upscale area of New York."

"And now we have another one?"

"Yeah." Dean flopped down and pulled the covers over the both of us. "But we can't do anything till morning so…"

I dialed Sam's number. "Sammy." I said when he picked up.

"You two done with your, uh, extracurriculars?"

I pressed my cold hands against my reddening neck in a vain attempt to reduce the heat. "Yeah we are."

"Alright. I just got done scanning the Telescas with EMF. I'll be back in a few."

"Cockblocker." Dean muttered. He pushed an arm under my pillow. "Are you and Sammy gonna do research?"

As exhausted as I was, I wasn't leaving Sam awake alone at night. "Yeah, I am." I pushed myself up to lean against the headboard. I reached for my laptop and angled it slightly away from Dean. "You go to sleep."

He yawned. "Yeah, I will." He was out like a light with his arm trapped between my back and the headboard of the squeaky bed. Oh well, it acted like a lumbar support for me. His soft breath hit my elbow as I typed away on my laptop.

The doorknob clicked. I reached for the gun on the nightstand.

"Hey," said Sam.

"Oh, hey." I put the gun back down.

"Is he asleep?"

Both brothers were always checking up on each other. How sweet. "Yeah." I ruffled Dean's soft hair. "I did most of the work today, and yet he's the one that's snoring."

"TMI." Sam shook his head.

"I'm looking into the houses' histories. For any freak accidents or whatever."

Sam nodded. "Me too. Which house are you looking at right now? I'll look at the other two."

"Hey there, sleeping beauty." Dean's voice cooed in my ear.

I forced an eye open and immediately hissed. The sunlight burned my retinas. "What the hell."

"We're leaving. Some auction house." He patted my shoulder firmly.

I looked at the clock. 6:00AM "Dammit." Not even three hours of sleep. I then realised what Dean and Sam were wearing. "Oh my God. Are you guys going to an auction house in that?"

"Why?" Dean looked at himself and then Sam. "What's wrong with this?"

Their patchworked worn out flannels would stand out like a sore hand. "Everything!"

"Alright. You two idiots will follow me." I fixed my glasses and slicked back my hair, making sure the bun was still tight. I'd managed to wrangle the men behind in suits to even remotely look like the interns I was having them pretend to be. I whirled around to face Dean. "And don't you dare open your mouth. And food is off limits."

He smirked. "Yes ma'am." Seriously? That damn bastard.

We walked into the auction house. I stood tall and let my heels click on the floor, catching the other guests' eyes and nodding politely.

But of course, Dean had to open his stupid mouth. "Consignment auctions, estate sales. Looks like a garage sale for Wasps if you ask me."

"Dean." Sam and I hissed. But we hadn't gotten an alarming amount of attention yet.

A waiter passed by with a tray of champagne. "Oh finally." Dean picked one off. "What?" he said innocently when he saw my glare. "You said food was off limits."

Well maybe he would be more docile if he were drunk.

I just shook my head and led the boys to some random painting. Dean quickly got disinterested in the painting and moved to stare at a naked lady statue instead. I pretended to continue observing the painting, keeping a blank, or at least I hoped it was blank, face on. I knew that painting, right? It felt achingly familiar. Was it from that one Art History Course I'd had to take?

"You'll riddle it with holes if you keep glaring at it like that." I turned to see a handsome young man talking to me from above the spiral staircase. Goddamn he was hot. He was hot in ways Dean wasn't. Unlike Dean's tall muscular stature, this guy was thin and lanky, but still tall. And instead of Dean's handsome dirty blonde hair and green eyes, this guy had insanely black hair, a clean shaven face, and icy blue eyes that were somehow bluer and icier than John's. Not to mention, he rocked that suit and tie with the shirt that clung onto his insane pectorals. Yeah he was hot. I subtly shifted my ring from my left ring to my left middle finger. Just in case he was interested in me and just in case I could use him to get more information.

I hoped my voice sounded as posh as I'd managed to make myself look with the dangling jewellery. "My apologies."

"Oh, no need to apologise." He walked down to stand next to me. "A fine example of American Primitive wouldn't you say?"

BS. I knew what American Primitive looked like and it didn't look like this. I eyed the man. He looked rich and well involved in the arts. "Pretty sure it's Grant Wood."

His pretty pink lips curled into a gentle smile. "As you say." He chuckled. Man, his voice was deep. "I apologise for pulling your leg." He stuck out his hand. "James Roberts." And all his hotness faded with the generic white name.

I shook his hand firmly. "Nice to meet you. Sharon Connors from Connors Limited, one of the art dealers." I passed him a forged business card when he presented me with his. Huh, lawyer. Hopefully he would come across the fake website I'd set up that read 'Coming Soon' as if we were a smaller company just now shifting to digital.

"Oh." James' smile faltered. "I don't recall seeing your name on the guests' list."

I took a slow deep breath to calm my racing heart. No need to panic. "Sorry, you must have missed it. I have an invitation." That I forged from memory from some random posh old guy that was at the bar from last night. But he didn't need to know that.

His smile fell back into place. "I believe you." He turned to look at the painting with me. "So, what's got you looking so intently at the painting? Think you're gonna buy it?"

"It's definitely an option. I would like to look at a few other paintings as well if you don't mind."

"Of course." He held out an arm. "I can show you around."

I caught Dean staring at me out of the corner of his eye. Sam was just shaking his head. Oh well. I placed my hand on the crook of James' elbow. "I would love that."

As I was led around the auction house, I could feel myself easily getting sleepy just by listening to all the things this guy was talking about. He was passionate, yes, but I just wasn't interested in art. My phone buzzed in my pocket and it took all my willpower to not pull it out.

"So, do you have any questions I might be able to answer?" He said once we finished rounding the entire house.

"I did have one."

"Shoot."

"Is everything here from the Telesca estate?"

"Indeed." He nodded at the large collection. He sighed. "The whole thing's pretty grisly if you ask me, selling your things this soon. But Uncle's right about one thing, sensationalism brings out the crowds. Even the rich ones."

Oh. uncle.

A clock chimed somewhere. "Oh, it's time to go."

I removed my hand from James' elbow. "Thank you for your time."

"No problem." He scanned me up and down. Oh dear. "Any chance I might see you again?"

I laughed. "Most likely. Bye!"

I hightailed it out of there before he could say anything else. I was not dealing with more social interaction than necessary, and my social battery was pretty drained after putting on that fake smile and asking questions based on tiny tidbits I picked out from his rant when I wasn't zoning out.

Sam had sent me the address for a different motel, much closer to the auction house than our last one. I'd had to ask and stop wayyy too many times to even get to the motel, let alone figure out which room. But at last I was staring at the right number door, or at least I hoped it was after rechecking five times. I fumbled with the keys and opened the door to reveal a disco themed room. Huh.

I spotted Dean on the chair by the table. "Not spending the night at Mr. Posh's place?" Dean drawled.

I huffed. "I'm not some loose woman who'll hop into anyone's bed."

"You moved your ring." He took another swig of his beer.

I sighed. "Where's Sam?"

"Outside. Jess called."

I tried to pry the bottle out of his hand, but he held on tight. "How many have you had?"

The three empty cases in the corner answered my question. "Really? I pay attention to a guy for information and you protest by throwing an alcoholic tantrum?"

"Didn't look like you were just paying attention to him." He snatched his bottle back. "And that." He gestured to the silver on my hands. "You moved it."

"I couldn't risk losing his attention." I didn't think he would be this upset over it.

"You see me do that with any other woman?" He looked mad.

"No." And it was the honest truth. "Dean, let go of the bottle."

"Oh 'let go of the bottle'. It's always with the bottle isn't it?"

"Dean. I'm sorry." I tried to grab his hand. "It's just for the case."

"And I have to see you kiss someone for it?" He looked away.

I smoothed out my frowning forehead. Alright. This was gonna be a bit of a work. Dean was half drunk too. And if he took another sip of that beer, he might just go into liver failure. "Dean, I'm sorry, alright? I won't do that again. Now can you let go of the bottle."

"Don't pretend to be worried."

"You're jealous."

"Damn straight."

Yeah he was more than half drunk. "Will a kiss make it better?"

His green eyes slowly lifted up. "Maybe."

I walked over to him and sat down on his lap. "I'm sorry."

"Mhm." His nose nudged mine.

He reeked of alcohol. No wonder Sam left him here. I kissed him nice and slow. His lips were so damn kissable. Soft and fluffy, and the stubble on his cheeks and chin made them look and feel even softer. I could kiss this man all day. His teeth grazed my bottom lip and I parted mine to let him in. his hands gripped my hips and I let myself exhale in relief. He let go of that damn beer. I could taste the beer in his mouth though, a little bitter, a little sweet.

I let my hands trail down to his neck, where I held on for dear life when he rolled his hips against mine. No, not tonight. I was still a little sore from last night, because the dull throb still hadn't faded. Not to mention my thighs had been screaming in protest as I walked around in heels all day. Actually, I was pretty sure I had a blister or two right now.

"Not tonight Dean." I whispered.

"I know." His hands slid down to my thighs. One of them continued their trail, making their way down my leg to brush against the edge of my heels. "These hurt?"

I groaned. "All day."

"Any blisters?" His voice was gentler now. Thank God.

"There might be a couple."

"Don't wear them tomorrow." His hands were now slipping the heels off my feet.

"Gotta keep up that rich New Yorker style though."

"That ton of makeup is doing its job." He swept his thumb over lips and it came back blood red. "You look better without them." He tugged a clump of mascara off my eyelashes. Most people didn't even realise the difference in my looks when I wore makeup. But he did, and I felt my heart flutter. He was always watching. "Just wear your pumps. These tiny pretty little things'll bleed."

"Are you worried?" I teased. "I thought you were mad at me."

His lips curled into a pout. "Still am. But doesn't mean I'm any less worried."

"The alcohol is making you all sappy." I kissed him one last time. "Lemme get changed and we can catch some sleep." I sniffed his shirt. "Actually, you go take a shower. And brush your teeth. You smell like my Chemistry lab from college."

He raised an eyebrow. "Oh yeah? I can show you a different kind of chemistry, sweetheart."

Someone cleared their throat behind us.

"Sam!" I jumped off of Dean who cursed under his breath. "When did you get here?!"

"Um, since Dean told you to not wear those heels."

Holy hell. "I didn't even notice. Sorry." I grabbed my sleepwear for the night. "Uh, I'm gonna go get changed." I rushed into the bathroom.

"Why would you do that, Sammy? I finally had her!" I heard Dean complain even behind the bathroom door.

"You're definitely drunk. Oh my God the smell. Dean, you reek. What number bottle is that– Holy shit. I was out for thirty minutes." Sam continued being exasperated at his brother. "Yeah, you are not going to bed like that."

"I could have gotten in bed with my hot wife. But you just had to–"

I tuned out his and Sam's bickering and looked at my own face in the mirror. Man, my cheeks were bright red.

"I got a date." I said the next afternoon. I showed Dean and Sam the message. "Today at some rich people restaurant. I looked up the prices, twenty dollars for a chicken breast and a grain of rice is crazy."

"Are you going?" Dean didn't look all too happy.

"Dean, we need the provenances." Sam pointed out. "Maybe she can get some information out of this guy."

Dean groaned. "Fine, but be back by…" he checked his watch in a show. "I don't know, in two hours."

I frowned. "Two?"

"Hey, I'm being generous. Me? I could keep you busy for twenty four hours, sweetheart." I blushed. "This guy? I give him two minutes to finish. Tops."

"Again. Can you two not do this while I'm here?" Sam threw his hands in defeat. "Sharon, just come here whenever you're done. And call if anything happens."

"Yeah." I pulled my hair back. "I'll get this thing done as soon as possible."

I headed into the bathroom to put my black knee length skirt and white button up shirt back on. It took a while to get the makeup on right, and the thick dangly earrings made my ears hurt every time I moved. But this had to be done. I switched my silver ring onto my left middle finger again. The things I did for information… I walked out slightly wobbly on blistered feet and shoved the swollen appendages into the pencil heels.

I kissed Dean's cheek before I left. "See you later, jealous boy."

Mundane. That's what it was. This guy had basically no personality beyond his love for art. And man, other than his face and deep voice, nothing about him was actually attractive. Maybe the amount of money he had, but Gods no not with his desperate attempt at making himself sound insanely smart. This guy liked yapping, a little too much. Dean was better, in every way. In the way his eyes would light up at the sight of a beautiful car but never more than when he saw Baby, the way the left side of his face wrinkled more in a smile especially when he gave me that lopsided smirk, and the way he would always scan the room for exits and any potential threats especially if Sammy or I was with him. Where else was I gonna find a man like him? The answer was simple, I wouldn't.

"How was your date?" Dean said the second I walked into the motel room. He was sprawled on the bed, watching some random game with Sammy on the other.

"Did you get the provenance?" Sam asked.

"Well he wouldn't just hand them to me. But I found out where that painting was from. 'Portrait of Isaiah Merchant's family, painted 1910.'"

Sam turned off the TV. "Check Dad's journal."

Dean pulled it out and thumbed through the pages. "First purchased in 1912 by Peter Simms. Peter Simms murdered 1912. Same thing in 1945. Oh, Same in 1970."

"Then it was donated to a charity auction. The Telescas bought it, and bam they're dead too. Now that thing is at this auction house."

Sam hummed. "What do you think, it's haunted? Cursed?"

Dean stood up purposefully. "Either way, it's toast."

This break in involved a little bit of climbing over metal gates. Normally, I would have gone. But these rich New Yorkers had installed twenty foot tall metal gates that I wasn't gonna be able to climb. I finished annotating yet another spell on my iPad. It had taken me way too many years to digitalise all of Bobby's papers and lore books into some random notes app. And now I was finishing up the annotations, to make it easier for Dean, Sam, John, and Bobby to search for information whenever they needed it. I made sure to type out key words, and made sure to write down and connect any afterthoughts or random notes on the side as necessary. Hopefully, it was all legible and understandable.

Dammit, I was starting to tear up. I looked at the window when light seeped in from under the curtains. The boys must be back. But I cautiously grabbed my gun anyway. Just in case it wasn't the people I was expecting.

The doorknob twisted.

"We're back." Sam's voice called

I looked up and there he was, in all his 6'4" inch glory. "Did you guys get the painting?"

"Yeah." Dean grinned. "Burnt to a crisp."

"Great." I put my iPad away and ducked under the covers. "I'm going to sleep. 'night."

"Okay." Sam said. "I'm gonna go get ready for bed too."

I peeled back the covers once the bathroom door clicked behind Sam. "Hey," I said to the man sitting down on the bed beside me. "Are you upset about today?"

"No." was the response. "It's fine. We do what we have to, right?" He turned to face me so I could see the small smile on his face. "I'm not mad, alright?"

"Mhm." I closed my eyes when his lips brushed against my forehead.

His voice was gentle against my ear. "G'night, sweetheart."

Something felt wrong. Something about this case was wrong. It was an unsettling feeling that had settled in my stomach, and it wouldn't go away. It wasn't like I had anything concrete either. Just that painting… that stupid painting… It was like I'd seen it before.

"Something's wrong." I managed to speak up just as Dean and Sam started packing up. "It doesn't feel right." Sam opened his mouth to say something but I held my hand up. "Don't you dare say anxiety or something because I know for a fact that this isn't anxiety. I wouldn't have said anything if it were just anxiety."

Dean looked almost half concerned. "What do you wanna do?" His question wasn't condescending or demeaning. He genuinely wanted to know.

I looked down at my blistered feet and exhaled slowly. "Let's check out the auction house one more time. This feels like–" the rest of the sentence wouldn't come out.

"An episode?" Sam frowned. "Then it sure as hell isn't over this easily."

Dean nodded. "Get in the car. We're going to the auction house."

"Oh, hey. Sharon!" I looked up when my name was called. "Nice to see you again."

"You two, uh, know each other?" I gave Dean an alarmed look when he spoke up.

"Uh, yes." James held out his hand. "James Roberts. She and I went out for lunch yesterday."

"Oh." Dean pretended to not know what was going on. "Oh yeah. That thing with a friend that you mentioned."

Seriously? "Yeah." I gave James what I hoped was an apologetic look. "Sorry, this is Dean… Smith. And that's his brother Sam Smith. They're interns at Connors Limited."

"I-i see." James stammered. "Well, are you guys here for the painting?"

"Why yes, actually." Dean stood wayyy too close to me to be just an intern. "We were wondering if we could see it."

"My father wants the interns to judge whether the painting is worth buying." I lied. "Of course, I have my own opinion and I will be doing the actual decision making, but we want them to have some practice."

"I am sorry to say, but the painting from the other day is being taken out for a viewing at another–"

"OH MY GOD!" Sam jumped when he saw the painting being taken away by a couple of workers. Dean's and my jaw went slack. But we managed to not cry out in surprise.

"Um, is something wrong?" James looked at us in a concerned manner.

"No, absolutely not." Sam's voice was a little panicked, but not enough for strangers to notice. "The… that painting… looks so good!"

"Well, I'm not exactly sure what you three see in that painting." James chuckled. "But it seems that it is a shared passion."

"Yes." I managed to get out. "Part of the family, you know." I cleared my throat. "So, would it be possible to look at it?"

"It's only being taken out for a viewing by a potential patron who is paying a handsome sum. But nothing has been finalized yet. It's in bad taste if you ask me. We sold it to the Telescas at a charity auction the night they were murdered. I'm trying to get my Uncle to not sell it again."

"Good. You know what? Don't. Make sure you don't, okay?" Sam was straight up panicking.

"Sorry, it seems like he has gotten attached to the piece." I forced a laugh. "Well, we will be back when the painting is back. Please leave me a call on my cell when it's back." I flashed him a smile and turned around. "Thank you!"

"I don't understand, we burned the damn thing." Sam hissed when we got into Baby.

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

"Okay, All right. Well, in almost all the lore about haunted paintings it's always the painting's subject that haunts them."

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

"Isaiah Merchant." I answered.

I closed my eyes and leaned back on the back seat. I knew this one. With the girl and the razor. I didn't remember the details but man it had been creepy. I couldn't fall asleep facing my wall full of posters for a week after this episode. I sighed. I was glad I listened to my gut. Cause this one was gonna be rough. But hadn't there been a woman that ended up flirting with Sam? Where was she in all of this?

Dean, Sam, and I huddled over a pile of books in a second hand book shop I'd made friends with during my shift at the bar. The owner dropped another pile on the table.

"The Isaiah Merchant family, right?" he asked once again.

"Yeah, that's right." Sam answered.

Dean was distracted by an old book on guns, nudging me every now and then to show me some cool gun on a page. He was muttering names and numbers and something about recoil. I vaguely followed his excited mumbling and continued flipping through the books. Sam was busy chatting to the owner of the bookstore anyway.

There was a newspaper clipping tucked into one of the books. I pulled it out. It was then that I came across the first Titanic reference of SPN. 'New Titanic Sinks, 1304 People Go To Watery Graves: Only 866 saved from 2,170 Aboard Liner Which Collides With Iceberg. Disaster Proves To Be the Greatest in Marine History of the World.' I looked to the side of the newspaper article where there was a smaller section. 'Father Slaughters Family, Kills Himself'. Yikes.

I continued reading. 'People who knew him describe Isaiah as having a stern and harsh temperament. 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…'

Well damn. But I could have sworn that there was more to this case. That the old man wasn't the one who did this. I massaged my temples as the small words started to blur together. Yeah, no. Too much thinking.

"Hey," I said a little loudly. Sam and the owner of the bookshop looked at me. "Do you know what happened to the bodies of Isaiah's family?"

"Read they were all cremated." the man answered.

"Do you anything else?" Sam jumped on.

"Yeah. Actually I found a picture of the family. It's right here… somewhere." He fumbled through a stack of papers. "Right, here it is." It was a picture of the painting.

"Can we get a copy of that, please?"

The owner shrugged. "Sure."

The three of us were sitting at the table in the motel room once again, digging into dinner. Cheeseburgers for Dean, caesar salad for Sam, and chicken tenders for me.

"I'm telling you, 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." Sam insisted one more time.

"I believe you."

"But Dean doesn't." the younger Winchester huffed.

Dean hummed. "All right so you think that Daddy dearest is trapped in the painting and is handing out Columbian neckties like with his family?" Dean turned to look at me. "That sound about right?"

Yes, but no. There was something else in that painting.

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

Dean thought for a moment. "All right, well. If Isaiah's position changed then maybe other things in the painting did too. It could give us some clues." Yes! There was something else in the painting. A painting in the painting itself. That was the clue! But how was I gonna get that information out to the boys?

"What, like a Da Vinci Code deal?"

Dean completely blanked. And honestly? I did too. "I don't… know. Uhh… I'm still waiting for the movie on that one."

"I live under a rock." I chimed when Sam looked to me for help. He just slouched and rolled his eyes.

Dean flopped onto the bed and kicked off his boots. "Anyway, we gotta get back in and see that painting." He tossed my phone in my directly which I somehow managed to catch. "Go on."

"Ugh." I had to call James. "Alright. Fine." I flopped down next to Dean and called James. "Hey James."

"Oh hi, Sharon!"

"So, um," alright woman, speak! "I talked to my Uncle and I would like to proceed with buying that painting."

"Uh, about that." They sold it already, didn't they?

"Someone bought it?"

"Yeah… Can you please send me their address?"

"Uhh. I'm not supposed to." I could hear him shuffling on the other side. "Why do you need it?"

"Sorry, I can't say."

"I can't just hand out confidential information like that–"

"Whoever you sold it to is going to be in danger." I inhaled and exhaled slowly. "Don't you think it's weird that every owner of that painting has died? I can't give you the details. But I can tell you this for sure. Lives are at stake. So please. Send me that address."

I could hear him debating with himself on the other side. "Fine. I'll text it to you. But I'm coming with."

Oh hell no. "I wouldn't recommend it. Things might get violent."

"All the more reason for you to not be alone."

"I won't be alone." I glanced at Sam and Dean.

"Is that guy gonna be there?"

Who? "Who?"

"Y'know. Dean. The intern."

Dean whistled from next to me. I pressed a finger to his lips that he promptly licked. Bruh. I frowned at him and he became docile again. "Yeah. Him and the other intern, Sam."

I could hear him shuffling on the other side once more. "I have the address. I'm sending it now."

"Thank you." I pocketed my phone. "Alright." I stretched out my back. "We got work to do."

Dean, Sam, and I exited the car and made our way to the house's front door.

"Sharon." I heard James' voice. Dammit. "What's happening?" he sounded concerned.

"You shouldn't have come here." I told him, not stopping as I started picking the lock.

Sam banged on the door. "Hello! Anybody home?!" No answer. Dammit. The person inside might already be dead. "Might be faster to break down the door." Sam mentioned.

James continued talking. "You said Evelyn might be in danger, what sort of danger?"

Dean banged on the door. "I can't break this sucker down."

"I know, I'm picking it." I twisted the bobby pin again.

"What are you guys, burglars?" James sounded horrified.

"I wish it was that simple." Sam shook his head. "Look, you really should wait in the car. It's for your own good."

"The hell I will. Evelyn's a friend." James stood his ground. Good to know he had somewhat of a spine.

"Got it." I twisted the knob and the four of us entered.

"Evelyn?" James called out.

There was a figure slumped over in an armchair. I could tell from the position of her neck that she was gone. Or was she?

"Evelyn." I walked over to her and laid her body on the floor. Blood pooled from her neck. I put my ear by her mouth and put two fingers against her neck. No breathing. But there was the faintest hint of a pulse. I took off my flannel, leaving me in just my turtleneck and started pushing the fabric into Evelyn's neck.

"James. Do you know CPR?"

"What?" James looked frantic.

"CPR. Chest compressions." Dean reiterated.

"I called 911." Sam said gently.

"I-i think I can." James stammered. "I took a course in-in college–"

"Good enough." Dean said curtly. He pressed his fingers against Evelyn's neck. "Lost pulse."

Sirens blared outside. "CPR." I told James again. "Don't even need mouth to mouth. It don't matter. Just keep her heart going. Can you do that?"

James shakily nodded and positioned himself above Evelyn, getting blood on his expensive looking shirt. "Ah, ah, ah, ah, stayin' alive, stayin' alive."

Dean raised an eyebrow.

"Come on guys, we gotta go." Sam tugged me up from the floor.

"Stayin'– what?!" James looked up in shock. "You guys are leaving?"

"I'll text you the address of where we'll be. And we'll explain everything. Just keep doing your little CPR." I poked my head in when James started losing the tempo of his song. "Another one bites the dust works as well."

"What the hell is going on?!" James yelled as he burst through the motel doors. "Who's killing these people?!" Oh, he'd changed into a new suit, complete with a clean tie.

"What." Dean drawled from where he was sprawled on the bed.

"What?"

"It's not 'who'." Sam explained. "It's 'what' is killing those people."t.

James looked like he was going to rip his hair out.

"What did you tell the cops?" I asked. "And how's Evelyn?" Since no one else clearly was going to ask the important questions. They were too busy enjoying James' confused misery, and my misery by extension.

"I lied!" He panicked. "I lied to the cops!" He paced the room like a caged animal. "I told them I was worried about Evelyn because of the murders and went to check on her. And I found her like that by myself."

"What about my flannel? And is she alive?"

James took a deep breath. "Yeah, she's alive. I told the I just found the flannel laying around as a rag or something so I used it to stop the blood." He looked like he was going to throw up from the blood that was staining his own shirt. "Thanks. For Evelyn."

"Yeah. No problem."

"Wait— so— what do you guys mean by 'what' is killing those people?"

"James." Sam tried to explain. "You saw that painting move."

"No… no I was… I was seeing things. It's impossible."

"Yeah, well. Welcome to our world." Dean said simply.

"James, I know this sounds crazy… but we think that that painting is haunted." Sam turned to me before continuing. "Actually, we know it's haunted."

James seemed to be taking it in stride. "You guys aren't joking." I offered him a chair and he collapsed into it. He pulled off his tie and took off his suit. He looked a little too pale as he reached for a bottle of beer.

Dean, Sam, and I watched as he took a giant swig of it. "Look, you guys are probably crazy, but if you're right about this? Then me and my Uncle sold this painting that got these people killed." James took a deep breath. "Then I guess I'd better go with you."

"What? No!" I crossed my arms. "This can get dangerous. I don't want you getting hurt."

James broke into a smile as he reached for my hand. "You're too sweet."

"Hands off." Dean chimed nonchalantly.

"Who're you to—"

"Her husband." Dean lifted his left hand. "So hands off."

I sheepishly lifted my wedding ring bearing hand as well. "Sorry. I needed the provenances."

James' jaw dropped open. "Shit."

"I am so sorry."

"No. No, it's fine." James exhaled slowly. "Just a lot to take in in less than a day." He opened his mouth and closed it again, as if debating whether to ask or not. "You played me like a fiddle?"

"Again. I am so sorry."

"No you're good." He laughed dryly. "I wasn't explicit in my intentions."

"Oh they were explicit, alright. I know mine are."

"Dean!" Sam and I cried, aghast.

James just shook it off. "So, are we going or not?"

We pulled up to Evelyn's house once again, this time, with James' latest model sports car right behind us.

Dean wasted no moment, and went right to lock picking. Only for James to shove a key into the lock and twisting it and swinging the door wide open. Dean's smirk fell and his face went blank.

I patted his arm. "I still choose you."

"What am I? A pokemon?" Dean muttered under his breath.

"You know what pokemon are?" Sam was impressed.

I laughed to myself and walked back into the living room where blood stained the floor.

"Are you guys not worried that it's… gonna kill us?"

"Nah, it seems to do its thing at night. I think we're alright in the daylight." Sam answered.

"Hey, do you have the picture?" Dean asked me.

"Yeah." I pulled it out of my pocket and Dean held it up to the painting.

"The razor, it's closed in this one but it's open in that one."

"What are you guys looking for?" James asked, stepping up.

"Well if the spirit's changing aspects of the painting maybe it's doing so for a reason."

"Hey, hey. Look at this." Sam pointed to the painting in the painting. "The painting in the painting." It was different from the one in the picture.

"Looks like a crypt, or a mausoleum or something."

I fished out a magnifying glass to see closer into the painting in the actual painting in front of us.

"Merchant." I read. "It's the mausoleum or whatever of the Merchant family."

"Y'all. This is literally the third graveyard we've checked." I groaned as I dragged my aching feet through the damp grass.

"I think this ghost is jerking us around." Dean added.

"So this is what you guys do for a living?" James fell into pace next to me.

"We don't get paid for this." I sighed.

"Well, Mazel Tov."

I did not get what that meant.

Dean suddenly sped up. "Over there."

We walked up to the mausoleum and Dean broke the locks. Sam ripped at the cobwebs covering everything and I tried to not flinch at the sight of the million spiders inside. Four urns were lined up against the walls, in front of tiny glass cases. And one of the glass cases had a tiny porcelain doll.

"That thing is freaky." I whispered, staring at the doll. It looked so lifelike, but it looked so dead at the same time.

"It used to be a tradition." James said. "When a child died, they would preserve the child's favorite toy in a glass case and place it next to the headstone or crypt."

"Damn." I breathed. I ripped my eyes away from the doll's beady eyes.

"Notice anything strange here?" Dean waved his flashlight around, highlighting every single urn.

"Where do I start?" James muttered.

Sam snickered.

Dean rolled his eyes. "No, look at the urns."

"There's only four." I noted.

"Yeah, mom and the three kids." Dean leaned down to read one of the nameplates. "Daddy dearest isn't here."

James frowned. "Then where is he?"

"You should really stop wearing those heels." Dean, not even the one wearing the thin heels, flinched at the very sight of them.

"Yeah well." I grabbed his arm to steady myself. "It's the only good pair I have left that even remotely screams classy."

"Those pumps would have worked fine."

"Dude. I got mud on them. I haven't had the time to wash them at all." I found my ankles wobbling over a crack in the concrete. "And I'm pretty sure weird rich people's lawyers' secretaries wear heels."

"Or flats."

"Not covered in mud."

Dean looked at me skeptically as I forced my trembling ankles up the stairs. "I would help you, but I'm pretty sure lawyers don't hold their secretary's hand."

"Flip you." I muttered and managed to make the final stretch.

"Miss Marisa? Mister Huntington?" the receptionist looked up as soon as we walked in.

"Yes, that'll be us." I handed over my fake business card. "We called in earlier? We need to look at the county death records. For a case for James Roberts."

"We've been expecting you. The door is right…" She scanned the card with her eyes before realising the man standing next to me was exactly her type. She clambered to her feet, and her voice got even sweeter than before. "Right this way."

Dean gave her a wink and then turned around to smirk at me.

Really? I stepped on his worn out dress shoes with the back of my heels and he hissed. Damn right. He messed with the wrong woman.

"I'm never wearing heels again." I groaned in Dean's arms as he carried me from the Impala to the motel door. "Sam! Open the door!" Dean yelled when we made it to the door.

Sam opened the door with a gun clenched in his hand. He immediately pocketed it and held the door wider when he realised it was just us. "Dude, what happened?"

"Her heels." Dean snorted. "That's what."

"It's just a tiny bit of blood–"

"Pouring out from inside her shoes." Dean was already slipping them off and reaching for the whiskey we always kept on hand for disinfecting injuries.

Sam laughed. "Like the Grimms' Cinderella?"

"Like the Grimms' Cinderella." I let Dean do his thing, pouring the stinging alcohol over the cuts, wrapping up the bleed with gauze, and easing me into my boots.

"Cinderella?" Dean questioned. "Like the Disney princess?"

"The Grimms' Cinderella." Sam corrected. "Cinderella's stepsisters cut their feet to wear the glass slippers and the prince only noticed it on the way to the castle cause they were filled with blood and spilled onto the carriage floor."

"Huh." Dean nodded in amusement. "Sucks to be that guy."

"Oh yeah. Picked the wrong woman twice."

"Third time's the charm." Dean suddenly started looking around the room. "Where's the guy?"

"Oh." I hadn't realised either.

"He went to get food." Sam explained. "He's never had gas station food before apparently."

"Dumbass rich people." Dean scoffed. "When's he coming back?"

"Soon, hopefully. I'm kind of hungry." Sam fell silent for a moment, before talking again. "So what did you guys get?"

"Paydirt. 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." Dean huffed. "So, they gave 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?"

"There are bones to burn." I confirmed.

Just then, James stumbled in through the door, carrying four greasy takeout bags and a case of beer looking like he'd just walked into Disney World for the first time. "I didn't know gummies could taste that good."

"Gummies?" Dean raised an eyebrow.

"Dude. They don't always take like nothing. These ones are sweet." He held up a bag of Haribos. "And of course, I got food." He started placing everything on a spot on the table. "I also got beer."

"Oh yeah!" Dean leapt to his feet and started popping off the caps of the drinks. Three, surprisingly.

James looked awkwardly at the open beer Dean passed to him.

"Take it, man." Sam laughed softly. "It's a peace offering." Dean scoffed at Sam's comment but pushed the beer one more time in James' direction.

James gave me a glance before accepting the drink and clinking it with Dean's. "To women."

"To women."

"You two do realise I'm right here, right?" I held out my hands. "Now where's my fries."

Another night. Another graveyard. Another grave digging.

"You guys are uncomfortably comfortable with this." James said as he scooped out a gram of dirt. He was trying to help, but he might as well not be helping.

"And you're helping us out with it." I laughed to myself. "You gonna turn yourself in once this is done?"

"No, actually." James pushed his shovel a little deeper. "I'm gonna keep buying bacon from the gas station."

"Amen, brother." Dean laughed.

"So James." I finally decided to ask. "Your uncle, Daniel Blake, had a daughter, right?"

James stopped digging. "How do you know that?" Sam and Dean just watched on with curiosity in their eyes.

"County death records." I answered. "What happened?" Sarah Blake had been the first woman Sam had shown interest in after Jessica in the series. It had been a turning point for his character, and even Dean's. And I needed to know what the hell happened to her.

"She was my cousin, but…" James said softly. "We grew up like siblings." He dug a little harder. "Amazing woman. She would have loved this." He laughed to himself. "It was at some concert in Madison Square Garden. 2001. Some weird band that she liked. Backstreet Boys?"

My blood ran cold. I had been at that concert. It was my birthday gift to myself. "October 20…?"

"Yeah." James smiled sadly. "You know about that band?"

Of course I knew about it. I'd wanted to hear 'I Want It That Way', one of the few songs I liked from this era, so I'd driven all the way to New York, made a friend even, and we'd gone out to grab a pizza after the concert. "Yeah." I just kept digging, hoping that James couldn't see me in the night.

"Well…" James continued his story. "She said she went to get pizza with this other girl after the concert." Holy shit. "And then she took a cab, and… the driver…" He took a shaky breath. "Sorry. It's just-, you know what I mean."

I felt sick. The girl I'd been with had also taken a cab from the pizza place. Was she the same girl? Or was I just panicking? Either way, she'd died. And she wasn't supposed to. And the girl I'd been with wasn't supposed to go get pizza either, I'd encouraged her cause why not. And if they were really the same… then I'd killed her.

James pulled out something from his pocket. "I have one last picture of her. Right before the concert." He passed it to me. And yeah, that was her. I'd killed her.

"I think I got something." Sam's voice snapped me out of my thoughts.

Dean lifted the lid to reveal a decaying body. My whole body heaved and I threw up on the grass. "Shit, sweetheart?" Dean was immediately at my side, rubbing my back. I felt dizzy. I felt sick. My stomach was churning. I'd liked that girl. And now she was dead. Because I'd been lonely and stubborn and wanted pizza for once in my life. "Sam, light 'em up. I'll take her to the car first." My ears were ringing as Dean guided me through the woods.

I could hear Sam and James in the distance talking worriedly. I hadn't meant to be a burden. I hadn't meant to kill her. I hadn't meant to kill the one person I'd gotten the courage to make friends with.

Dean picked me up onto Baby's hood and swiped at my cheeks. "Was she the friend you made?" He asked gently. I nodded. For someone who always got made fun of as the dumbest in the family, he sure was sharp when it mattered. He remained standing in between my legs, one hand protective and steady on my thigh, and the other wiping my face clean. "It wasn't your fault."

"It was." I gripped his wrists. "I've killed so many people, Dean. I shouldn't have–"

"You didn't know."

"But I should have known better." I breathed shakily. "I'm not supposed to be here."

"You are." was the firm response. But was I?

"She wasn't supposed to die." I whimpered. "Everything I do–"

"You saved Evelyn."

"And killed his sister." I reminded him. "Everything I do has consequences. And I'm scared." I had been scared since day 1. Ever since I'd gotten here, I'd tried to keep a low profile. Assisting on random small cases. I'd tried to keep to myself as much as possible, making friends with people I was sure never got involved in the series unless they were a main character with insane plot armour. But of course I couldn't. I was a lonely selfish little brat who wanted attention from people. Sure I wasn't a social butterfly, I could barely hold a conversation with a stranger, but I also needed friends to confide in. There was only so much I could talk about with Bobby, and Dean was always on a hunt, and Sam was just a little baby brother to me and he had his own worries with school and whatnot, and like hell I was telling every single deep dark secret to him.

Dean's hands were gentle as he kept rubbing circles into my skin. He pulled me into his chest and I let myself cling onto him. He was the only one I wanted to tell everything to, the only one I trusted to hold onto everything I said.

"I got you, sweetheart." he whispered into my hair. "It wasn't your fault."

"I'm sorry." I sniffled. I'd gotten his shirt wet.

"No." he kissed my cheek. I leaned into his touch even further. "It's not your fault." He kissed me again, this time on my lips, drowning out my whimpers. "And I'll tell you as many times as you need to hear it. Alright?" I nodded against him. He kept his grip tight around me until I managed to get my breathing back under control. "We can talk later," he said quietly. "If you want. But right now." he pulled out his keys to unlock Baby. "Let's make sure we got this son of a bitch."

"You guys stay in the car." came Dean's instruction. But like hell I was taking orders. "Sweetheart, you just had a mental breakdown."

"I know. But I'm putting it on hold." I slammed Baby's door shut.

"We'll keep the engine running." Sam said and clambered into the driver's seat.

"Yeah, me too." James slumped in the back, rubbing his arms. "That was an intense workout."

"Welcome to the club." I forced a laugh. "We'll be back. Just making sure the thing is gone for sure this time." I was pretty sure it wasn't. There was something else. But with the way I'd broken down just minutes ago, I couldn't remember what it was.

Dean and I walked into the house once more, and looked at the painting still in the living room.

"So, uh." Dean said as we both stared wide eyed at the painting. "Wasn't there a little girl and a razor in that thing?"

I bolted for the door, only for it to slam shut. Shit!

"Dean?!" Sam yelled from the other side.

"Sharon!" James banged on the door. "Why did you close the door?!"

"Wasn't us!" I yelled back. "The little girl did it!"

I turned around defensively when a little girl's shrieks rang out through the house. Dean was immediately beside me, his green eyes darting all around the place. Dean's hand was warm on my back as laughter continued to echo through the house. My phone rang. I picked it up, Sammy.

"Sam." I gasped.

"You guys okay? What little girl?"

"The girl in the painting. It was her all along." Dean barked into the phone.

"Wasn't the dad looking down at the girl in the painting?" James' voice was shaking. "Maybe he was trying to warn us about the girl."

"Well that's all good and all, but can you guys get us out of here?"

"Oh yeah, lemme just grab my battering ram." Sam said sarcastically. "I can't pick the lock. And the door won't budge."

"Sam, she's coming." I gripped onto Dean's jacket.

"Let's go find salt and iron." Dean said and pulled me along with him. To the kitchen. I tried to get my breathing under control along with the panic my heart was beating with.

In, two, three, out, two, three. I opened up every bottom cabinet I could see and Dean opened the top ones. Nothing.

"What kind of house doesn't have salt?" Dean snapped.

"Low sodium freaks." Sam shot from the other side.

I suddenly had a brainwave. "Poker."

"You wanna play cards?" Dean followed me into the living room.

I grabbed the poker sticks from the fireplace. The heat seeped into my hands, but it was a welcome change in temperature, considering the doors just slammed shut, sealing us in the living room with nowhere else to go. Dean grabbed a stick too and pushed me behind him. "Good thinking," he said gently.

"Now that." I stared at the little girl standing in front of us with her doll dragging on the floor, razor in the other hand. "That is gonna give me nightmares."

She lunged and Dean swung. The girl disappeared.

"Sam, you got something?" Dean said into the phone.

"I don't know, she was already cremated. There's nothing left to burn."

"Then how's she still around?"

"There must be something else."

"Hey guys." James suddenly said. Dean and I stared at the phone in my hands. "We used to handle antique dolls at the auction."

"Aw, how cute. How is that gonna help us?" Dean said sarcastically.

James continued, undeterred. "Well back then they used to make the dolls in the kids image, I mean everything, They would use the kid's real hair."

"Human remains, the same as bones." Sam whispered.

"The mausoleum!" Dean and Sam said in unison.

Sam hung up.

The girl appeared again. "Aw hell nah." I waved the poker in her direction and she disappeared with a cruel smile.

"Just gotta stay alive until Sammy burns that thing." Dean's back pressed against mine as we scanned the room cautiously.

A cupboard came flying at us. Dean and I managed to dive away just in time, but it led to us being separated. But no matter, we could both hold our own.

Or we would if that stupid little girl hadn't pinned us against the walls. I struggled against the invisible power holding me up. The little girl cackled in front of me, clutching her doll tight, and waving the razor around like a menace.

Fuck. I spotted Dean struggling on a different wall. His forehead was bleeding and the poker stick lay uselessly on the ground.

The girl giggled again and I almost passed out from the pressure that started to build against my neck. Dammit. I focused on the poker and imagined it flying into my hands. A low thrum took over my body and I could see the poker trembling. Come on, come on… My head throbbed, but the damn stick was finally in my hands. I flicked the iron bar just enough to brush against the girl and she shrieked before disappearing.

I collapsed onto the ground. Dean.

"Dean?" I crawled over to where Dean was pushing himself up on shaky arms.

"I'm fine." he winced as he brought his hand up to his head. "Where'd she go?"

"I don't know."

We looked around, and there she was again, looking absolutely furious. Her small chubby face was curled into a terrifying sneer and she wasted no time in swinging the razor down on us this time. I instinctively closed my eyes as she came for me first.

"No!" Dean cried and wrapped his arms around me to shield me from the blade.

The girl suddenly shrieked. And a burning flame lit up the room. I cracked an eye open when I sensed the heat and saw the girl's spirit burning away.

"He did it." Dean gasped, loosening his grip around me. "Sammy did it."

I nodded weakly in his arms. The throbbing in my head had taken over and I was a little too dizzy to actually do anything else. Dean dialed Sam's number, and Sam picked up on the first ring. "Hey Sammy… yeah she's gone… uh-huh… no we're both okay."

James and I watched the painting be crated up. I was in my regular jeans and sleeveless turtleneck that revealed the black jungle in my armpits if I raised my arms even slightly. And of course my shoes. No more of those posh rich people pencil heels, but sturdy worn out boots that were wayyy more practical and comfortable. I'd given up on wrestling with my hair after the eventful last night and just let my tangled hair rest in a low ponytail.

"You know, I prefer you like this." James said with a smile. "I mean you looked gorgeous dressed like that too, but just… you seem more comfortable like this."

"Yeah. My blisters and sweaty armpits are happy too." I laughed dryly.

"Don't put yourself down. You really look good even dressed like a homeless person."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"You should."

Silence fell over us and I swung my feet from the box I was sitting on. "So."

"Hm?"

"You're not… upset about… Sarah?"

"My cousin?" James' blue gaze met mine. I hadn't even realised how blue his eyes were. "Well. I'm sad she died. And there was a time I resented the girl that didn't walk her home." He sighed. "But now that I think about it. Then that girl would have had to walk back to her home alone. And… she could have been attacked too. And that would mean there would be another family grieving their loss." He gave me a bittersweet smile. "It really was dumb. I was in grief. My feelings were irrational. But I've come to terms with it. It can happen to anyone, any day, anywhere. And I miss her. And I wouldn't wish that on anyone else." He cleared his throat. "What I'm saying is… it's not your fault. And don't let anyone tell you otherwise, not even yourself."

I nodded. That was what everyone kept saying. And maybe I should really stop blaming myself.

"Sir, where do we put this?" one of the workers asked.

"Take it out to the back and burn it." James said confidently.

"Sir?" the worker's jaw dropped open.

"You heard me." James said a little louder. "Burn it. I'm serious, guys. Don't tell my uncle."

The workers hesitantly followed his orders.

"Hey!" Dean's voice called out.

James and I turned around to see him walking up with a stack of papers. "This was archived in the county records. The Merchant's adopted daughter Melanie. Know why she was up for adoption?" He shook his head in disbelief. "Cause her real family was murdered in their beds."

"She killed them?" James blinked in surprise.

"Yeah. Who'd suspect her? Sweet little girl." Dean sighed.

Sam continued. "So then she kills Isaiah and his family. And the dad takes the blame. His spirit's been trying to warn people ever since."

"So why'd the girl do it?" James asked.

"Some people are just born messed up." I answered. "And when they die, their spirits are just as crazy."

Dean shrugged. "Maybe. I don't really care. It's over, we move on."

"Yeah, we should go." Sam nodded at me. I hopped off the box I was sitting on and followed Dean and Sam.

"Thanks for everything." James said softly. "And I hope we can continue being friends." he passed me an expensive looking blue silk napkin with his initials on it. James Roberts. And his number written on it with a marker.

I pocketed the napkin and smiled. "I wouldn't mind that."

A.N: Struggled quite a bit with this chapter. it's not smth i usually write. but its also setting up some important things thatmay or may not be useful later on. and ive been exhausted all week if its not obvious by the lack of grammar in this a/n. anyways have fun. im gonna go fail another o chem exam and cry over only getting 2 hours of sleep even during spring break T_T

And if anyone else wants info on what other songs are on beat for CPR, then here's a list. You're actually encouraged to sing it out loud when you do do CPR. maybe don't sing them in a hospital as a healthcare worker... lol. I made this more for myself for funsies.
1. Hips Don't Lie
2. Stayin' Alive
3. Baby Shark
4. Sweet Home Alabama
5. Another One Bites the Dust (my personal favorite)
6. Eye of the Tiger (Dean would love it)
7. Hollaback Girl
8. Highway to Hell (Dean would, especially after coming back from hell)
9. Numb
10. Heartbreaker (I would do this while I actively break their ribs)
11. Just Dance
12. BYE BYE BYE
13. UPTOWN FUNK (DON'T BELIEVE ME JUST WATCH)
14. TikTok (on the clock let the party non stop)
15. Let's Get it Started
A KPOP PLAYLIST FOR IT TOO CAUSE WHY NOT:
1. Not Shy by Itzy
2. Case 143 by Stray Kids
3. Loco by Itzy
4. Back Door by Stray Kids
5. Hype Boy by New Jeans
6. Bite Me by Enhypen (gonna suck their neck instead of checking for pulse on their jugular)
7. Dynamite by BTS (SET THE NIGHT ALIGHT)
8. Chk Chk Boom by Stray Kids (VAMOS I KNOW THAT YOU WANT IT BOOM)
9. God's Menu by Stray Kids (Cooking like a chef I'm a 5 star michelin)
10. Anti Fragile by Lesserafim
11. Fearless by Lesserafim (sassy shoulder rolls halfway into CPR)
12. Pink Venom by Blackpink
13. ON by BTS
14. Maniac by Stray Kids (lot of Skz huh)
15. Smart by Lesserafim
Then that got me thinking about Jpop songs, so here's another list for myself:
1. Dokoni by Psychic Fever
2. Habanero by Psychic Fever
3. Paradise by Psychic Fever
4. Rich and Bad by Psychic Fever
5. Spark it Up by Psychic Fever
6. New Era by Sixtones
7. Apollo by Mamoru Miyano
8. Body Rock by Mamoru Miyano
9. Can't Ever Let You Go by Mamoru Miyano
10. Dream On by Mamoru Miyano
11. Last Dance by Mamoru Miyano
12. Supernova by OWV
13. Daydream by Octpath
14. Octave by Octpath
15. Don't Tell Nobody by Oneoreight