(Don't Fear) The Reaper
Chapter Eight - Provenance
“He’s a man-whore you do know this right?” Harry asked, watching as Dean hit on the woman behind the bar. Sam sighed and waved Dean over, only to be ignored. “Seriously, he’s not gonna come to you.” Sam waved Dean over again and Dean rolled his eyes, but did walk back to them, holding two beers, one of which he placed in front of Sam, taking a swig from the other.
“All right, so, I think I got somethin’” Sam told him when he sat down.
“Oh, yeah. Me, too. I think we need to take a little shore leave for just a little bit. What do you think, huh? I’m so in the door with this one.” Dean told them, pointing to the girl at the bar, who was soon joined by her friend.
“Told you, Manwhore.” Harry muttered. Sam snorted into his beer, covering it up with a cough when Dean glared at the both of them.
“So, what are we today, Dean? Are we rock stars? Are we army rangers.”
“You’ve actually used rock stars before?” Harry stated in shock, getting a brief, barely noticeable nod from Sam.
“Reality TV scouts looking for people with special skills.” All three of them laugh before Dean continues. “I mean hey, it’s not that far off, right? By the way, she’s got a friend over there. I could probably hook you up, what do you think?” Dean asked, ignoring the icy glare coming from Harry.
“Dean, no thanks, I can get my own dates.”
“Yeah Dean-hey, what? Your own dates? No, come on, we have to find this demon, neither of you should be dating!” Harry said in a shrill voice, making Dean smirk into his beer as Sam stared at him in stunned silence.
“Right. So, er-what you got?” Dean asked after a moment of silence.
“Mark and Anne Telesca of New Paltz, New York were both found dead in their home just a few days ago.”
“Mmhmm.” Dean stared at the girls at the bar, which caused Harry to roll his eyes and glance at Sam, who hadn’t noticed his brothers inattention.
“Throats were slit, there were no prints, no murder weapons-Dean.” Sam called his brother sharply having finally noticed he didn’t have Dean’s attention. Dean quickly looked back at Sam questioningly. “No prints, no murder weapons, all doors and windows were locked from the inside.”
“Could just be a garden-variety murder, you know, not our department.”
“No, Dad says different.”
“What do you mean?”
“Look.” Sam turned the journal for Dean to look, making sure that Harry could also see it. “Dad noted three murders in the same area of upstate New York.” He told them, pointing to a certain part of the notes. “First one, right here, 1912, the second one in 1945, and the third in 1970. The same M.O. as the Telescas-the throats were slit, the houses were locked from the inside. Now, so much time passed between the murders that no body checked the pattern, except for Dad. He always kept his eyes peeled fro another one.”
“And now my lovely Sammy has found one.” Harry said, receiving a glare for his efforts from Sam.
“All right, I’m with ya. It’s worth checkin’ out. We can’t pick this up ‘til the first though, though, right?”
“Yeah.” Sam agreed, slightly confused. Harry rolled his eyes at Sam’s naivety.
“Good.” Dean said before standing up and walking back to the bar.
“You walked straight into that one.” Harry muttered as they both watched Dean chat up the girls at the bar.
The next day they were waiting for Sam in the car outside of the Telesca house, Dean was sleeping in the passenger side of the car and Harry had already drew a number of things on Deans face. Sam returned to the car and honked the horn loudly as he sat down. Dean jumped as he woke up and the scowled at a laughing Harry and Sam.
“Man, that is so not cool.”
“I just swept the Telesca house with the EMF. It’s clean. And last night, while you were-“ Sam rolled his eyes and then moved on, “out.” Dean grinned widely, and Harry chuckled in the back.
“Good times.”
“Anyway, Dali, I took the history of the house. No hauntings, no violent crimes, nothing strange about the Telesca’s themselves either.”
“All right, so if it’s not the people and it’s not the house, then, uh-maybe it’s the contents-a cursed object or somethin’.”
“The house is clean.” Sam told him with a shake of his head.
“Yeah, I know, you said that.”
|No, I mean, it’s empty. No furniture, nothin’”
“Where’s all their stuff? And why did you call me Dali?”
“Dude, I can’t believe you drew on me.” Dean hissed as they walked into the auction house, his face somewhat red from all the scrubbing. Dean helped himself to some food from a tray as they passed the waiter and then looked around. “Silent auctions, estate sales-it’s like a garage sale for W.A.S.P.s, if you ask me.”
“Which we didn’t.” Harry muttered, watching as a well-dressed man walked over to the two brothers.
“Can I help you, gentlemen?”
“I’d like some champagne please.” Dean said, mouth full with food and offending the man.
“Oh nice.”
“He’s not a waiter.” Sam told him, Dean looked embarrassed and looked at the man apologetically. “I’m Sam Connors.” Sam held out his hand to shake the mans, who didn’t shake it. “This is my brother, Dean. We are art dealers with Connors Limited.”
“You’re are dealers?”
“I don’t think he believes you. Maybe it’s because Dean thought he was a waiter.”
“That’s right.” Sam said, though who he was answering, Harry couldn’t be sure.
“I’m Daniel Blake. This is my auction house. Now, gentlemen, this is a private showing, and I don’t remember seeing you on the guest list.” Daniel said, looking at them disdainfully.
Sam was about to speak when Dean interrupted him, mouth still full with food. “We’re there, Chuckles. You just need to take another look.” Sam looked shocked as another waiter passed with a tray full of glasses of Champagne, of which Dean took one. “Oh, finally.” He then turned to Daniel, sniffed the champagne and then walked away.
“Cheers.” Sam said before turning and following Dean to another part of the auction house, Harry following close behind
They continue to look around before they notice a painting form the Telesca house. They both walk over to it and begin to observe it. A moment later they hear a female voice. “A fine example of American primitive, wouldn’t you say?” They all turn and see woman wearing an elegant black dress, walking down the stairs towards them. Sam looked at her in confusion over her comment before Dean hit him.
“Well, I’d say it’s more Grant Wood than Grandma Moses.” the woman looked at the floor bashfully. “But you knew that. You just wanted to see if I did.”
“Guilty. And clumsy, I apologise.” Dean watched his brother talk to the woman and grabbed some more food from a passing waiter. “I’m Sarah Blake.”
“I'm Sam. This is my-“ Sam turned to see Dean had his mouth full with food once again. “brother, Dean.”
“Dean?”
“Mm?”
“Can we get you some more mini-quiche?”
“Mm-mm, I’m good, thanks.”
“So can I help you with something?” Sarah asked, looking at Sam, smiling widely, which made Harry glare at her.
“Yeah, actually. What can you tell us about the Telesca estate?”
“The whole thing’s pretty grisly, if you ask me, selling your things this soon. But, Dad’s right about one thing. Sensationalism brings out the crowds-even the rich ones.” She and Sam shared a smile. Dean grinned at the small growl Harry gave, glaring at Sarah.
“Is it possible to see the provenances?” Sam asked. Sarah was about to speak but was interrupted by her father walking up to them.
“I’m afraid there isn’t any chance of that.” Daniel said, walking over to them.
“Why not?”
“You’re not on the guest list. And I think it’s time to leave.”
“Well, we don’t have to be told twice.” Dean said chirpily.
“Apparently, you do.”
“Okay, it’s all right. We don’t want any trouble. We’ll go.” Sam said, trying to pacify Daniel. Dean walked away and after sharing a sad look with Sarah, Sam followed him. Harry glared at Sarah before running after Sam and Dean.
They went to a local motel, grabbing their bags from the car and walking to their motel room.
“Grant Wood? Grandma Moses? What?” Dean asked as he opened the motel room door.
“Art history course. It’s good for meetin’ girls.”
“It’s like I don’t even know you.” Dean said, shaking his head and walking into the motel room. Harry followed quickly after him and made a beeline for the table, sitting on it and smiling widely.
“Good god, it’s like the seventies threw up on this room.” Harry stated, watching as the brothers looked around them and shrugged, completely unfazed by the rooms disco-patterned wallpaper and chrome furniture.
“Huh.” They moved to the beds and began to unpack their things.
“What was it, the providence?”
“Provenance.” Sam corrected, Dean mouthed the word trying to get the right pronunciation. “It’s a certificate of origin, like a biography, you know? We can use ‘em to check the history of the pieces, see if anything’s got a freaky past.”
“Huh. Well we’re not getting anything out of Chuckles, but uh, Sarah?” Dean smirked as Harry growled once again, and glared at the table he was sitting on.
“Yeah. Maybe you can get her to write it all down on a cocktail napkin.”
“Not me.” Harry’s growling got louder. Sam glanced at him in concern before turning back to Dean.
“Oh, no, no, no, no. Pickups are your thing, Dean.”
“It wasn’t my butt she was checkin’ out.”
“Bitch.” Harry muttered, getting an amused look from Dean.
“In other words, you want me to use her to get information.”
“Sometimes, you gotta take one for the team.” Dean held out his mobile for Sam to take. “Call her.”
Sam refused to allow Harry to follow him to the restaurant, making him stay at the motel with a very amused Dean.
“Dude, it would never work for you both. For one, you’re invisible to everyone but us.” Dean said, watching Harry hug his knees to his body.
“You do know he thinks its you I'm after right?” Harry muttered, making Dean choke out a laugh.
“My little brother is insane.” Dean said with a laugh.
“I can’t believe you encouraged him!”
“What else was I gonna do? Tell him, ‘no Sam, waste your life with some Reaper only we can see.’?”
“I can make other people see me!”
“What else can you give him? He’s not even gay!”
“How would you know? He might like me!”
“Whatever dude. I’m going out to get some beer.” Dean said, standing up and walking out of the room. Harry watched him go and the huffed to himself.
It was a while later when Dean walked back into the motel room, a couple of bottles of beer in his hands.
“You took your time.”
“I did indeed. Didn’t want to be around you for too long with your moping and sulking. Sam not back yet?”
“No.” Harry huffed.
“Dude, let him go.” Dean said, grabbing his knife and starting to sharpen it. Not long after Dean had started to sharpen his knife Sam walked in with a large grin on his face.
“How did it go?” Dean asked, looking up from his knife. Sam held out some papers and then sat down on his bed, opening his laptop. “So, she just handed the providences over to you?” Dean asked when Sam didn’t look like he was going to say anything else.
“Provenances.” Sam corrected, annoyed.
“Pro-provenances?”
“Yes. I went back to her place, I got a copy of the papers.”
“And?”
“And nothing, that’s it. I left.”
“You didn’t have to con her or so any special favours or anything?”
“Dean, would you get your mind out of the gutter?” Sam asked. Dean laughed as Harry glared at him.
“You know, when this whole thing is done, we could stick around for a little bit.” Dean told him.
“Why?”
“So you can take her out again. It’s obvious you’re innot her, even I can see that. Harry can as well, right Harry?”
“Oh shut up.”
“See?”
“Hey, all right, I think I got somethin’ here.” Dean and Harry got up and walked over to look at the research Sam had pulled up. Sam handed Dean the provenances.
“Portrait of Isaiah Merchant’s family painted in 1910.”
“Now, compare the names of the owners with Dad’s journal.” Dean went back to his bed and sat down, reading the names in the journal.
“First purchased in 1912 to Peter Simms.” Sam pointed to a spot on the journal, which Dean read. “Peter Simms murdered in 1912.” He looked at the papers and then at the journal. “Same thing in 1945. Huh. Same thing in 1970.”
“Then it was stored until it was donated to a charity auction last month, where the Telesca’s bought it. SO, what do you think it’s haunted or cursed?”
“Either way, it’s toast.”
“So what now?”
“Now we need to go torch the sucker.” Dean said, standing up.
Ugly ass thing. If you ask me, we’re doin’ the art world a favour.” Dean said once they had got the portrait out of the auction house, before throwing a match on it and lighting it.
“For once Dean, I agree with you.” Harry said, watching as the portrait went up in flames.
The next morning Dean came out of the bathroom, frantic and running over to his bed. “We’ve got a problem, I can’t find my wallet.”
“How is that my problem?” Sam asked, Harry snickered as they both watched a franticly worried Dean.
“’Cause I think I dropped it in the warehouse last night.”
“You’re kidding right?”
“Yeah, it’s got my prints, my ID-well, my fake ID anyway. We’ve gotta get it before somebody else finds it, come on.” Dean said, leaving the motel room with Sam and Harry still inside.
At the auction room, Sam and Dean looked around the room, searching for the wallet. “How do you lose your wallet Dean?”
“Hey guys.” Sarah said, walking over to them. Sam put a piece of art down and tried to look nonchalant.
“Sarah! Hey.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Uh, we-we’re leaving town and you know, we came to say goodbye.”
“Oh what are you talkin’ about Sam? We’re stickin’ around for at least another day or two.” Dean said, confusing the other three, that looked at him in confusion. “Oh, Sam, by the way, I wanted to give you that twenty bucks I owe you.” Dean took out his wallet from his back pocket. Sam looked at Dean, annoyed and frustrated, whilst Harry looked somewhat disappointed. “I’m always forgettin’. There ya go.” Sam, still annoyed by Dean’s trick, take the money. “Well, I’ll leave you two crazy kids alone. I gotta go do something-Somewhere.” Dean said, Sarah winked at him and Dean left them alone, with Harry glaring at Sarah.
“So-“ Sarah started nervously, looking around her. Sam ignored the scoffing from Harry.
“I had a good time last night.”
“Yeah. Yeah, I did too.”
“Pfft.”
“Maybe we should do it again sometime.”
“Are you kidding me? Sam, don’t fall for it.”
“You know, I’d love to. I really would, but Dean-he was just screwin’ around. We really are takin’ off today.”
“Er-Sam.” Harry tapped Sam’s shoulder, trying to get his attention, only to get ignored.
“Oh. Well, that’s too bad.”
“Oh my God!” Sam suddenly exclaimed, finally noticing the same painting they torched the night before being carried past him.
“What?”
“Uh-That painting-looks so good.” Sam stumbled, ignoring the snort of laughter from Harry.
“If you can call that monstrosity good, then, yeah, I guess.”
“So what do you know about that painting?”
“Not much, just that it creeps me out. We sold it to the Telescas at a charity auction the night they were murdered.”
“Yeah, and now, you’re just gonna sell it again?”
“As much as my dad wants to, no. I won’t let him. I think it’d be in bad taste.”
“Good. Yeah, you know what? Don’t, don’t, make sure you don’t, okay?”
“Why? Don’t tell me you’re interested in that.”
“No, no, God, no, not buying it no. You know what? I gotta go, I’ve gotta take care of something. But I will call you back I will call you. I’ll see you later.”
“Wait, so, you’re not leaving tonight?”
“Wow, she’s quick of the up-take.”
“No, I guess not. See ya.” Sam walked off and left the auction house, they both walked over to the car and Sam leant on it. “Go fetch Dean, tell him we need to talk.”
“Sure thing. Be right back.”
“I don’t understand, Dean, we burned the damn thing.” Sam said once Dean and Harry had returned and they got in the car
“Yeah, thank you, Captain Obvious. All right, we just need to figure out another way to get rid of it. Any ideas?”
“Okay, all right, well, um-in almost all the lore about haunted paintings, it’s always the painting’s subject that haunts them.”
“Yeah? All right, so we need to figure out everything there is to know about that creepy-ass family in that creepy-ass painting. What were their names again?”
“You said the Isaiah Merchant family, right?” The librarian in the local library asked, speaking very quickly.
“Wow, he doesn’t even pause to breath.”
‘Yeah, that’s right.”
“I dug up every scrap of local history I could find. So, uh, are you boys crime buffs?”
“Kind of. Why do you ask?” Dean asked.
“Well-“ He held up a page from an old newspaper. The headline read, ‘Father slaughters family, kills self.”
“Yes. Yeah, that sounds about right.”
“The whole family was killed?”
“It seems this Isaiah-he slits his kids throats, then his wife, then himself. Now, he was a barber by trade-used a straight razor.”
“Why’d he do it?”
“Well, let’s look.” The librarian began to read the article. “Uh, ‘people who knew him described Isaiah as having a stern and harsh temperament and controlled his family with an iron fist.” Wife, two sons, adopted daughter-yeah, yeah-there were whispers that the wife was gonna take the kids and leave, which, of course, you know, in that day and age….so, instead, Old Man Isaiah-well, he gave them all a shave.” The librarian made a shaving gesture with his hands and then laughed, Dean chuckled but Harry and Sam both remained serious.
“Does it say what happened to the bodies?”
“It just says they were all cremated.” The three exchanged an annoyed look.
“Anything else?”
“Yeah. Actually, I found a picture of the family. It’s right here somewhere.” He opened the book to a certain page. “Right. Here it is.” The picture in the book is the same from the painting, except in the books photo, Isaiah is looking straight ahead. In the painting he was looking down at his daughter. Sam noticed this.
“Hey, could we get a copy of this, please?”
“Sure.”
Back at the motel room they all sat around the table, talking about the Merchant family.
“I’m telling you man, I’m sure of it. Painting at the auction house, Dad is lookin’ down. Painting here, Dad’s lookin’ out. The painting has changed Dean.”
“He’s right you know. I saw it too. Now, maybe in my previous life the paintings moved, but Muggle ones don’t.
“Muggle?”
“Never mind.
“All right, so, you think Daddt Dearest is trapped in the painting? He’s handin’ out Columbian neckties like he did with his family?”
“Yeah, it seems like it. But if his bones are already dusted, then how are we gonna stop him?”
“All right, well, if Isaiah’s position changed, maybe some other things in the painting changed as well. It could give us some clues.”
“What, like a DaVinci Code deal?”
“I don’t know, I’m still waitin’ for the movie on that one. Anyway, we gotta get back in and see that painting. Which is a good thing because you can get some more time to crush on your girlfriend.” Dean stood up and went to lie down on his bed.
“Dude, enough already.”
“What?”
“’What?’ Ever since we got here, you’ve been tryin’ to pimp me out to Sarah. Just back of, all right.”
“Well, you like her, don’t you?” Sam said nothing, which made Harry twitch. “All right, you like her, she likes you, you’re both consenting adults-“
“What’s the point, Dean? We’ll just leave. We always leave.”
“Well, I’m not talkin’ about marriage, Sam.”
“You know what, I don’t get it. What do you care if I hook up?”
“Because then maybe you wouldn’t be so cranky all the time.” Sam scoffed as Dean sat up on his bed, “You know, seriously, Sam, this isn’t about just hookin’ up, okay? I mean, I think this Sarah girl could be good for you. And I don’t mean any disrespect, but I’m sure that this is about Jessica, right? Now, I don’t know what it’s like to lose somebody like that, but….I would think that she would want you to be happy. God forbid, have fun once in a while. Wouldn’t she?” Dean said, Harry watched Sam closely, worried that Sam seemed very close to tears.
“Yeah, I know she would.” Sam sighed, “Yeah you’re right. Part of this is about Jessica. But nor the main part.”
“What’s it about?” Dean asked, Sam said nothing. “Yeah, all right.” Dean leant back on the bed, “well, we still gotta see that painting, which means you still gotta call Sarah, so-“ Sam sighed and nodded. He picked up the phone and dialed her number.
“Sarah, hey. It’s Sam. (...) Hey, hi. Good, Good, yeah, um, what about you? (...) Yeah good, good, really good.”
“Smooth.” Dean said, rolling his eyes.
“So, listen, me and my brother were thinking that maybe we’d like to come back in and look at the painting again. I think maybe we are interested in buying it. (...)What?” (...) Who’d you sell it to? (...) Sarah, I need an address right now.”
“She sold it?” Dean asked.
“Oh she’s a keeper alright. Ditz.” Harry muttered ignoring the glare Sam sent his way.
They pulled up at the house, more like mansion, of the buyer and got out their car, noticing that Sarah was standing there by her own car.
“Sam, what’s happening?”
“I told you, you shouldn’t have come.” Sam said, the four of them ran up the front steps.
“Hello? Anybody home?”
“You said Evelyn might be in danger. What kind of danger?”
“I can’t knock this sucker down. I gotta pick it.” Dean told them. He knelt down and began to pick the lock on the front door. Sarah walked over to Sam, who was unsuccessfully trying to open the windows.
“What are you guys, burglars?”
“I wish it was that simple.” Sam said just as Dean got the front door open. “Look, you really should wait in the car, it’s for your own good.”
“The hell I will, Evelyn’s a friend.” Sarah said indignantly, following them all inside.
The four of them walked into the living room silently, looking around them. “Evelyn?” Sarah quietly called, practically tiptoeing through the living room.
“Evelyn?” Dean called, seeing Evelyn seated in her chair and moved cautiously towards her. The painting over her fireplace had resumed its usual position. Isaiah was looking down at his daughter.
“Evelyn? Evelyn?” They moved closer to the chair, “Its Sarah Blake. Are you all right?” She put her hand on Evelyn’s shoulder
“Sarah don’t. Sarah!” Sam called watching in horror as Evelyn’s head tilted back, revealing her slashed throat. Sarah screamed and looked at the portrait, where Isaiah was looking straight ahead.
“Oh my God! Oh my God!” Sam took her out of the room to calm her down whilst Dean and Harry stayed with the body.
“You know she was dead.” Dean accused.
“Yep. She couldn’t exactly listen to me now could she?”
Back at the motel Dean was sitting at the laptop whiles Sam was pacing and Harry was back in his usual place on top of the table. There was a knock at the door and Sam went to answer it, moving out of the way to let Sarah enter.
“Hey, you all right?”
“No actually. I just lied to the cops and told them I went to Evelyn’s alone and found her like that.”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me. I’m about to call ‘em right back if you don’t tell me what the hell is going on. Who’s killing these people?” Sam and Dean exchanged a look.
“What.”
“What?”
“It’s not who, it’s what is killing these people.” Sarah shook her head, obviously confused. “Sarah, you saw that painting move.”
“No. No, I was seeing things. It’s impossible.”
“Oh she’s not very bright is she?” Harry drawled, doing a passable impression of one Draco Malfoy.
“Yeah, well, welcome to our world.” Dean said, privately agreeing with Harry, though refusing to say anything else.
“Sarah, I know this sounds crazy, but we think that that painting is haunted.”
“You’re joking?” Tears began to form in her eyes and Sam stayed silent. “You’re not joking. God, the guys I go out with.”
“Sarah think about it-Evelyn, the Telesca’s. They both had the painting and there have been others before that. Wherever this thing goes, people die, and we’re just tryin’ to stop it. And that’s the truth.”
“Sarah sighed and looked around her. “Well, then I guess you better show me. I’m coming with you.”
“What? No. Sarah, no, you should just go home. This stuff can get dangerous, and-“ Sam stopped and Dean looked on in understanding, “-I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“Look, you guys are probably crazy, but if you’re right about this-well, me and my dad sold that painting, we might have got these people killed. I’m not saying I’m not scared, ‘cause I am scared as hell, but I’m not gonna run and hide either.” She walked to the door and then turned back to face the brothers. “So, are we going to or what?”
They all watched her leave, even Harry was a tiny bit impressed, not that he would have admitted it to anyone.
“Sam?” Sam turned back and looked at Dean, “Marry that girl.”
“Don’t encourage him!” Harry hissed as he watched Sam leave after the little ditz that though she could steal Sam away from him.
“"Hey! You have freaky thoughts concerning my brother, that's fine by me, but don't expect me to actually back you on them. If Sam wants to chase after another girl, then I'm all for it! I'm sorry to say it though, but you're not human. you're not even truly alive! What can you give him?" Dean asked, smiling a little, though the smile soon faded away when he saw the devastated look on Harry's face. "Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it."
"No, you did. I understand. Really I do. Do you know how old I am supposed to be?"Harry asked randomly.
"Nope, a hundred or two?"
"No. I'm twenty-five, I’ll be twenty-six next month. You know what is really sad? I died when I was eighteen saving an ungrateful world and I had never even had a chance to do more than kiss a person, and that was with Hank. Death. Never knew what it was like to actually be in a relationship. To be loved by someone in something other than a familial way. But I suppose I will never find out.
“Hank said that in order for me to either move on or become-humanish again, I would need to learn how to feel again. Sam helped me towards that, but you're right. I couldn't drag him down with me. I have to go now, but if you should ever find yourself in danger that you won't be able to get yourself out of, then I will be there for you. You never need worry about Sam again. He will be safe until it is his time. Thank you for being one of the only people who was ever honest with me." Harry said with a sad smile. Dean opened his mouth to say something to him, to apologise or something. Anything to make the feeling of guilt go away, but Harry turned to look at Sam's back once more and then disappeared.
Harry appeared in one of the motel rooms that he had stayed in with the two brothers. He had no idea where he was, no idea what he was going to do now.
“Hank!” Harry yelled, looking to the ceiling.
“You called?” Hank asked, walking through the front door and looking at Harry in concern. “What’s happened? Why are you back here? Where are the Winchesters?”
“I had to leave them. I couldn’t drag Sam down with me.”
“Oh, my little Reaper. “ Hank said softly, dragging Harry into a hug. “What are you going to do now?”
“I’m going to do my job. I’m going to Reap some souls. Hank, I’m going to go back to Britain for a while. Keep an eye on Sam for me, will you? You know where to find me if anything happens.” Harry kissed Hank on the cheek and then moved out of the hug. Sending a sad smile to Hank, Harry disappeared and left America behind.
A/N- Okay, so how many of you actually want to kill me? For those that want to know, it was the little girl in the portrait that was doing the killin’. As for Harry, those who watch Supernatural will probably know when I am going to bring Harry back in the Winchester’s lives. Don’t worry, I will be! I won’t finish it on this note. You’ll just have to wait a wee while before I start Season Two... Lol...
Please review and try not to threaten me too harshly!! Lol!! Hope you enjoyed!!!
Previous Chapter
Master Post
“He’s a man-whore you do know this right?” Harry asked, watching as Dean hit on the woman behind the bar. Sam sighed and waved Dean over, only to be ignored. “Seriously, he’s not gonna come to you.” Sam waved Dean over again and Dean rolled his eyes, but did walk back to them, holding two beers, one of which he placed in front of Sam, taking a swig from the other.
“All right, so, I think I got somethin’” Sam told him when he sat down.
“Oh, yeah. Me, too. I think we need to take a little shore leave for just a little bit. What do you think, huh? I’m so in the door with this one.” Dean told them, pointing to the girl at the bar, who was soon joined by her friend.
“Told you, Manwhore.” Harry muttered. Sam snorted into his beer, covering it up with a cough when Dean glared at the both of them.
“So, what are we today, Dean? Are we rock stars? Are we army rangers.”
“You’ve actually used rock stars before?” Harry stated in shock, getting a brief, barely noticeable nod from Sam.
“Reality TV scouts looking for people with special skills.” All three of them laugh before Dean continues. “I mean hey, it’s not that far off, right? By the way, she’s got a friend over there. I could probably hook you up, what do you think?” Dean asked, ignoring the icy glare coming from Harry.
“Dean, no thanks, I can get my own dates.”
“Yeah Dean-hey, what? Your own dates? No, come on, we have to find this demon, neither of you should be dating!” Harry said in a shrill voice, making Dean smirk into his beer as Sam stared at him in stunned silence.
“Right. So, er-what you got?” Dean asked after a moment of silence.
“Mark and Anne Telesca of New Paltz, New York were both found dead in their home just a few days ago.”
“Mmhmm.” Dean stared at the girls at the bar, which caused Harry to roll his eyes and glance at Sam, who hadn’t noticed his brothers inattention.
“Throats were slit, there were no prints, no murder weapons-Dean.” Sam called his brother sharply having finally noticed he didn’t have Dean’s attention. Dean quickly looked back at Sam questioningly. “No prints, no murder weapons, all doors and windows were locked from the inside.”
“Could just be a garden-variety murder, you know, not our department.”
“No, Dad says different.”
“What do you mean?”
“Look.” Sam turned the journal for Dean to look, making sure that Harry could also see it. “Dad noted three murders in the same area of upstate New York.” He told them, pointing to a certain part of the notes. “First one, right here, 1912, the second one in 1945, and the third in 1970. The same M.O. as the Telescas-the throats were slit, the houses were locked from the inside. Now, so much time passed between the murders that no body checked the pattern, except for Dad. He always kept his eyes peeled fro another one.”
“And now my lovely Sammy has found one.” Harry said, receiving a glare for his efforts from Sam.
“All right, I’m with ya. It’s worth checkin’ out. We can’t pick this up ‘til the first though, though, right?”
“Yeah.” Sam agreed, slightly confused. Harry rolled his eyes at Sam’s naivety.
“Good.” Dean said before standing up and walking back to the bar.
“You walked straight into that one.” Harry muttered as they both watched Dean chat up the girls at the bar.
The next day they were waiting for Sam in the car outside of the Telesca house, Dean was sleeping in the passenger side of the car and Harry had already drew a number of things on Deans face. Sam returned to the car and honked the horn loudly as he sat down. Dean jumped as he woke up and the scowled at a laughing Harry and Sam.
“Man, that is so not cool.”
“I just swept the Telesca house with the EMF. It’s clean. And last night, while you were-“ Sam rolled his eyes and then moved on, “out.” Dean grinned widely, and Harry chuckled in the back.
“Good times.”
“Anyway, Dali, I took the history of the house. No hauntings, no violent crimes, nothing strange about the Telesca’s themselves either.”
“All right, so if it’s not the people and it’s not the house, then, uh-maybe it’s the contents-a cursed object or somethin’.”
“The house is clean.” Sam told him with a shake of his head.
“Yeah, I know, you said that.”
|No, I mean, it’s empty. No furniture, nothin’”
“Where’s all their stuff? And why did you call me Dali?”
“Dude, I can’t believe you drew on me.” Dean hissed as they walked into the auction house, his face somewhat red from all the scrubbing. Dean helped himself to some food from a tray as they passed the waiter and then looked around. “Silent auctions, estate sales-it’s like a garage sale for W.A.S.P.s, if you ask me.”
“Which we didn’t.” Harry muttered, watching as a well-dressed man walked over to the two brothers.
“Can I help you, gentlemen?”
“I’d like some champagne please.” Dean said, mouth full with food and offending the man.
“Oh nice.”
“He’s not a waiter.” Sam told him, Dean looked embarrassed and looked at the man apologetically. “I’m Sam Connors.” Sam held out his hand to shake the mans, who didn’t shake it. “This is my brother, Dean. We are art dealers with Connors Limited.”
“You’re are dealers?”
“I don’t think he believes you. Maybe it’s because Dean thought he was a waiter.”
“That’s right.” Sam said, though who he was answering, Harry couldn’t be sure.
“I’m Daniel Blake. This is my auction house. Now, gentlemen, this is a private showing, and I don’t remember seeing you on the guest list.” Daniel said, looking at them disdainfully.
Sam was about to speak when Dean interrupted him, mouth still full with food. “We’re there, Chuckles. You just need to take another look.” Sam looked shocked as another waiter passed with a tray full of glasses of Champagne, of which Dean took one. “Oh, finally.” He then turned to Daniel, sniffed the champagne and then walked away.
“Cheers.” Sam said before turning and following Dean to another part of the auction house, Harry following close behind
They continue to look around before they notice a painting form the Telesca house. They both walk over to it and begin to observe it. A moment later they hear a female voice. “A fine example of American primitive, wouldn’t you say?” They all turn and see woman wearing an elegant black dress, walking down the stairs towards them. Sam looked at her in confusion over her comment before Dean hit him.
“Well, I’d say it’s more Grant Wood than Grandma Moses.” the woman looked at the floor bashfully. “But you knew that. You just wanted to see if I did.”
“Guilty. And clumsy, I apologise.” Dean watched his brother talk to the woman and grabbed some more food from a passing waiter. “I’m Sarah Blake.”
“I'm Sam. This is my-“ Sam turned to see Dean had his mouth full with food once again. “brother, Dean.”
“Dean?”
“Mm?”
“Can we get you some more mini-quiche?”
“Mm-mm, I’m good, thanks.”
“So can I help you with something?” Sarah asked, looking at Sam, smiling widely, which made Harry glare at her.
“Yeah, actually. What can you tell us about the Telesca estate?”
“The whole thing’s pretty grisly, if you ask me, selling your things this soon. But, Dad’s right about one thing. Sensationalism brings out the crowds-even the rich ones.” She and Sam shared a smile. Dean grinned at the small growl Harry gave, glaring at Sarah.
“Is it possible to see the provenances?” Sam asked. Sarah was about to speak but was interrupted by her father walking up to them.
“I’m afraid there isn’t any chance of that.” Daniel said, walking over to them.
“Why not?”
“You’re not on the guest list. And I think it’s time to leave.”
“Well, we don’t have to be told twice.” Dean said chirpily.
“Apparently, you do.”
“Okay, it’s all right. We don’t want any trouble. We’ll go.” Sam said, trying to pacify Daniel. Dean walked away and after sharing a sad look with Sarah, Sam followed him. Harry glared at Sarah before running after Sam and Dean.
They went to a local motel, grabbing their bags from the car and walking to their motel room.
“Grant Wood? Grandma Moses? What?” Dean asked as he opened the motel room door.
“Art history course. It’s good for meetin’ girls.”
“It’s like I don’t even know you.” Dean said, shaking his head and walking into the motel room. Harry followed quickly after him and made a beeline for the table, sitting on it and smiling widely.
“Good god, it’s like the seventies threw up on this room.” Harry stated, watching as the brothers looked around them and shrugged, completely unfazed by the rooms disco-patterned wallpaper and chrome furniture.
“Huh.” They moved to the beds and began to unpack their things.
“What was it, the providence?”
“Provenance.” Sam corrected, Dean mouthed the word trying to get the right pronunciation. “It’s a certificate of origin, like a biography, you know? We can use ‘em to check the history of the pieces, see if anything’s got a freaky past.”
“Huh. Well we’re not getting anything out of Chuckles, but uh, Sarah?” Dean smirked as Harry growled once again, and glared at the table he was sitting on.
“Yeah. Maybe you can get her to write it all down on a cocktail napkin.”
“Not me.” Harry’s growling got louder. Sam glanced at him in concern before turning back to Dean.
“Oh, no, no, no, no. Pickups are your thing, Dean.”
“It wasn’t my butt she was checkin’ out.”
“Bitch.” Harry muttered, getting an amused look from Dean.
“In other words, you want me to use her to get information.”
“Sometimes, you gotta take one for the team.” Dean held out his mobile for Sam to take. “Call her.”
Sam refused to allow Harry to follow him to the restaurant, making him stay at the motel with a very amused Dean.
“Dude, it would never work for you both. For one, you’re invisible to everyone but us.” Dean said, watching Harry hug his knees to his body.
“You do know he thinks its you I'm after right?” Harry muttered, making Dean choke out a laugh.
“My little brother is insane.” Dean said with a laugh.
“I can’t believe you encouraged him!”
“What else was I gonna do? Tell him, ‘no Sam, waste your life with some Reaper only we can see.’?”
“I can make other people see me!”
“What else can you give him? He’s not even gay!”
“How would you know? He might like me!”
“Whatever dude. I’m going out to get some beer.” Dean said, standing up and walking out of the room. Harry watched him go and the huffed to himself.
It was a while later when Dean walked back into the motel room, a couple of bottles of beer in his hands.
“You took your time.”
“I did indeed. Didn’t want to be around you for too long with your moping and sulking. Sam not back yet?”
“No.” Harry huffed.
“Dude, let him go.” Dean said, grabbing his knife and starting to sharpen it. Not long after Dean had started to sharpen his knife Sam walked in with a large grin on his face.
“How did it go?” Dean asked, looking up from his knife. Sam held out some papers and then sat down on his bed, opening his laptop. “So, she just handed the providences over to you?” Dean asked when Sam didn’t look like he was going to say anything else.
“Provenances.” Sam corrected, annoyed.
“Pro-provenances?”
“Yes. I went back to her place, I got a copy of the papers.”
“And?”
“And nothing, that’s it. I left.”
“You didn’t have to con her or so any special favours or anything?”
“Dean, would you get your mind out of the gutter?” Sam asked. Dean laughed as Harry glared at him.
“You know, when this whole thing is done, we could stick around for a little bit.” Dean told him.
“Why?”
“So you can take her out again. It’s obvious you’re innot her, even I can see that. Harry can as well, right Harry?”
“Oh shut up.”
“See?”
“Hey, all right, I think I got somethin’ here.” Dean and Harry got up and walked over to look at the research Sam had pulled up. Sam handed Dean the provenances.
“Portrait of Isaiah Merchant’s family painted in 1910.”
“Now, compare the names of the owners with Dad’s journal.” Dean went back to his bed and sat down, reading the names in the journal.
“First purchased in 1912 to Peter Simms.” Sam pointed to a spot on the journal, which Dean read. “Peter Simms murdered in 1912.” He looked at the papers and then at the journal. “Same thing in 1945. Huh. Same thing in 1970.”
“Then it was stored until it was donated to a charity auction last month, where the Telesca’s bought it. SO, what do you think it’s haunted or cursed?”
“Either way, it’s toast.”
“So what now?”
“Now we need to go torch the sucker.” Dean said, standing up.
Ugly ass thing. If you ask me, we’re doin’ the art world a favour.” Dean said once they had got the portrait out of the auction house, before throwing a match on it and lighting it.
“For once Dean, I agree with you.” Harry said, watching as the portrait went up in flames.
The next morning Dean came out of the bathroom, frantic and running over to his bed. “We’ve got a problem, I can’t find my wallet.”
“How is that my problem?” Sam asked, Harry snickered as they both watched a franticly worried Dean.
“’Cause I think I dropped it in the warehouse last night.”
“You’re kidding right?”
“Yeah, it’s got my prints, my ID-well, my fake ID anyway. We’ve gotta get it before somebody else finds it, come on.” Dean said, leaving the motel room with Sam and Harry still inside.
At the auction room, Sam and Dean looked around the room, searching for the wallet. “How do you lose your wallet Dean?”
“Hey guys.” Sarah said, walking over to them. Sam put a piece of art down and tried to look nonchalant.
“Sarah! Hey.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Uh, we-we’re leaving town and you know, we came to say goodbye.”
“Oh what are you talkin’ about Sam? We’re stickin’ around for at least another day or two.” Dean said, confusing the other three, that looked at him in confusion. “Oh, Sam, by the way, I wanted to give you that twenty bucks I owe you.” Dean took out his wallet from his back pocket. Sam looked at Dean, annoyed and frustrated, whilst Harry looked somewhat disappointed. “I’m always forgettin’. There ya go.” Sam, still annoyed by Dean’s trick, take the money. “Well, I’ll leave you two crazy kids alone. I gotta go do something-Somewhere.” Dean said, Sarah winked at him and Dean left them alone, with Harry glaring at Sarah.
“So-“ Sarah started nervously, looking around her. Sam ignored the scoffing from Harry.
“I had a good time last night.”
“Yeah. Yeah, I did too.”
“Pfft.”
“Maybe we should do it again sometime.”
“Are you kidding me? Sam, don’t fall for it.”
“You know, I’d love to. I really would, but Dean-he was just screwin’ around. We really are takin’ off today.”
“Er-Sam.” Harry tapped Sam’s shoulder, trying to get his attention, only to get ignored.
“Oh. Well, that’s too bad.”
“Oh my God!” Sam suddenly exclaimed, finally noticing the same painting they torched the night before being carried past him.
“What?”
“Uh-That painting-looks so good.” Sam stumbled, ignoring the snort of laughter from Harry.
“If you can call that monstrosity good, then, yeah, I guess.”
“So what do you know about that painting?”
“Not much, just that it creeps me out. We sold it to the Telescas at a charity auction the night they were murdered.”
“Yeah, and now, you’re just gonna sell it again?”
“As much as my dad wants to, no. I won’t let him. I think it’d be in bad taste.”
“Good. Yeah, you know what? Don’t, don’t, make sure you don’t, okay?”
“Why? Don’t tell me you’re interested in that.”
“No, no, God, no, not buying it no. You know what? I gotta go, I’ve gotta take care of something. But I will call you back I will call you. I’ll see you later.”
“Wait, so, you’re not leaving tonight?”
“Wow, she’s quick of the up-take.”
“No, I guess not. See ya.” Sam walked off and left the auction house, they both walked over to the car and Sam leant on it. “Go fetch Dean, tell him we need to talk.”
“Sure thing. Be right back.”
“I don’t understand, Dean, we burned the damn thing.” Sam said once Dean and Harry had returned and they got in the car
“Yeah, thank you, Captain Obvious. All right, we just need to figure out another way to get rid of it. Any ideas?”
“Okay, all right, well, um-in almost all the lore about haunted paintings, it’s always the painting’s subject that haunts them.”
“Yeah? All right, so we need to figure out everything there is to know about that creepy-ass family in that creepy-ass painting. What were their names again?”
“You said the Isaiah Merchant family, right?” The librarian in the local library asked, speaking very quickly.
“Wow, he doesn’t even pause to breath.”
‘Yeah, that’s right.”
“I dug up every scrap of local history I could find. So, uh, are you boys crime buffs?”
“Kind of. Why do you ask?” Dean asked.
“Well-“ He held up a page from an old newspaper. The headline read, ‘Father slaughters family, kills self.”
“Yes. Yeah, that sounds about right.”
“The whole family was killed?”
“It seems this Isaiah-he slits his kids throats, then his wife, then himself. Now, he was a barber by trade-used a straight razor.”
“Why’d he do it?”
“Well, let’s look.” The librarian began to read the article. “Uh, ‘people who knew him described Isaiah as having a stern and harsh temperament and controlled his family with an iron fist.” Wife, two sons, adopted daughter-yeah, yeah-there were whispers that the wife was gonna take the kids and leave, which, of course, you know, in that day and age….so, instead, Old Man Isaiah-well, he gave them all a shave.” The librarian made a shaving gesture with his hands and then laughed, Dean chuckled but Harry and Sam both remained serious.
“Does it say what happened to the bodies?”
“It just says they were all cremated.” The three exchanged an annoyed look.
“Anything else?”
“Yeah. Actually, I found a picture of the family. It’s right here somewhere.” He opened the book to a certain page. “Right. Here it is.” The picture in the book is the same from the painting, except in the books photo, Isaiah is looking straight ahead. In the painting he was looking down at his daughter. Sam noticed this.
“Hey, could we get a copy of this, please?”
“Sure.”
Back at the motel room they all sat around the table, talking about the Merchant family.
“I’m telling you man, I’m sure of it. Painting at the auction house, Dad is lookin’ down. Painting here, Dad’s lookin’ out. The painting has changed Dean.”
“He’s right you know. I saw it too. Now, maybe in my previous life the paintings moved, but Muggle ones don’t.
“Muggle?”
“Never mind.
“All right, so, you think Daddt Dearest is trapped in the painting? He’s handin’ out Columbian neckties like he did with his family?”
“Yeah, it seems like it. But if his bones are already dusted, then how are we gonna stop him?”
“All right, well, if Isaiah’s position changed, maybe some other things in the painting changed as well. It could give us some clues.”
“What, like a DaVinci Code deal?”
“I don’t know, I’m still waitin’ for the movie on that one. Anyway, we gotta get back in and see that painting. Which is a good thing because you can get some more time to crush on your girlfriend.” Dean stood up and went to lie down on his bed.
“Dude, enough already.”
“What?”
“’What?’ Ever since we got here, you’ve been tryin’ to pimp me out to Sarah. Just back of, all right.”
“Well, you like her, don’t you?” Sam said nothing, which made Harry twitch. “All right, you like her, she likes you, you’re both consenting adults-“
“What’s the point, Dean? We’ll just leave. We always leave.”
“Well, I’m not talkin’ about marriage, Sam.”
“You know what, I don’t get it. What do you care if I hook up?”
“Because then maybe you wouldn’t be so cranky all the time.” Sam scoffed as Dean sat up on his bed, “You know, seriously, Sam, this isn’t about just hookin’ up, okay? I mean, I think this Sarah girl could be good for you. And I don’t mean any disrespect, but I’m sure that this is about Jessica, right? Now, I don’t know what it’s like to lose somebody like that, but….I would think that she would want you to be happy. God forbid, have fun once in a while. Wouldn’t she?” Dean said, Harry watched Sam closely, worried that Sam seemed very close to tears.
“Yeah, I know she would.” Sam sighed, “Yeah you’re right. Part of this is about Jessica. But nor the main part.”
“What’s it about?” Dean asked, Sam said nothing. “Yeah, all right.” Dean leant back on the bed, “well, we still gotta see that painting, which means you still gotta call Sarah, so-“ Sam sighed and nodded. He picked up the phone and dialed her number.
“Sarah, hey. It’s Sam. (...) Hey, hi. Good, Good, yeah, um, what about you? (...) Yeah good, good, really good.”
“Smooth.” Dean said, rolling his eyes.
“So, listen, me and my brother were thinking that maybe we’d like to come back in and look at the painting again. I think maybe we are interested in buying it. (...)What?” (...) Who’d you sell it to? (...) Sarah, I need an address right now.”
“She sold it?” Dean asked.
“Oh she’s a keeper alright. Ditz.” Harry muttered ignoring the glare Sam sent his way.
They pulled up at the house, more like mansion, of the buyer and got out their car, noticing that Sarah was standing there by her own car.
“Sam, what’s happening?”
“I told you, you shouldn’t have come.” Sam said, the four of them ran up the front steps.
“Hello? Anybody home?”
“You said Evelyn might be in danger. What kind of danger?”
“I can’t knock this sucker down. I gotta pick it.” Dean told them. He knelt down and began to pick the lock on the front door. Sarah walked over to Sam, who was unsuccessfully trying to open the windows.
“What are you guys, burglars?”
“I wish it was that simple.” Sam said just as Dean got the front door open. “Look, you really should wait in the car, it’s for your own good.”
“The hell I will, Evelyn’s a friend.” Sarah said indignantly, following them all inside.
The four of them walked into the living room silently, looking around them. “Evelyn?” Sarah quietly called, practically tiptoeing through the living room.
“Evelyn?” Dean called, seeing Evelyn seated in her chair and moved cautiously towards her. The painting over her fireplace had resumed its usual position. Isaiah was looking down at his daughter.
“Evelyn? Evelyn?” They moved closer to the chair, “Its Sarah Blake. Are you all right?” She put her hand on Evelyn’s shoulder
“Sarah don’t. Sarah!” Sam called watching in horror as Evelyn’s head tilted back, revealing her slashed throat. Sarah screamed and looked at the portrait, where Isaiah was looking straight ahead.
“Oh my God! Oh my God!” Sam took her out of the room to calm her down whilst Dean and Harry stayed with the body.
“You know she was dead.” Dean accused.
“Yep. She couldn’t exactly listen to me now could she?”
Back at the motel Dean was sitting at the laptop whiles Sam was pacing and Harry was back in his usual place on top of the table. There was a knock at the door and Sam went to answer it, moving out of the way to let Sarah enter.
“Hey, you all right?”
“No actually. I just lied to the cops and told them I went to Evelyn’s alone and found her like that.”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me. I’m about to call ‘em right back if you don’t tell me what the hell is going on. Who’s killing these people?” Sam and Dean exchanged a look.
“What.”
“What?”
“It’s not who, it’s what is killing these people.” Sarah shook her head, obviously confused. “Sarah, you saw that painting move.”
“No. No, I was seeing things. It’s impossible.”
“Oh she’s not very bright is she?” Harry drawled, doing a passable impression of one Draco Malfoy.
“Yeah, well, welcome to our world.” Dean said, privately agreeing with Harry, though refusing to say anything else.
“Sarah, I know this sounds crazy, but we think that that painting is haunted.”
“You’re joking?” Tears began to form in her eyes and Sam stayed silent. “You’re not joking. God, the guys I go out with.”
“Sarah think about it-Evelyn, the Telesca’s. They both had the painting and there have been others before that. Wherever this thing goes, people die, and we’re just tryin’ to stop it. And that’s the truth.”
“Sarah sighed and looked around her. “Well, then I guess you better show me. I’m coming with you.”
“What? No. Sarah, no, you should just go home. This stuff can get dangerous, and-“ Sam stopped and Dean looked on in understanding, “-I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“Look, you guys are probably crazy, but if you’re right about this-well, me and my dad sold that painting, we might have got these people killed. I’m not saying I’m not scared, ‘cause I am scared as hell, but I’m not gonna run and hide either.” She walked to the door and then turned back to face the brothers. “So, are we going to or what?”
They all watched her leave, even Harry was a tiny bit impressed, not that he would have admitted it to anyone.
“Sam?” Sam turned back and looked at Dean, “Marry that girl.”
“Don’t encourage him!” Harry hissed as he watched Sam leave after the little ditz that though she could steal Sam away from him.
“"Hey! You have freaky thoughts concerning my brother, that's fine by me, but don't expect me to actually back you on them. If Sam wants to chase after another girl, then I'm all for it! I'm sorry to say it though, but you're not human. you're not even truly alive! What can you give him?" Dean asked, smiling a little, though the smile soon faded away when he saw the devastated look on Harry's face. "Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it."
"No, you did. I understand. Really I do. Do you know how old I am supposed to be?"Harry asked randomly.
"Nope, a hundred or two?"
"No. I'm twenty-five, I’ll be twenty-six next month. You know what is really sad? I died when I was eighteen saving an ungrateful world and I had never even had a chance to do more than kiss a person, and that was with Hank. Death. Never knew what it was like to actually be in a relationship. To be loved by someone in something other than a familial way. But I suppose I will never find out.
“Hank said that in order for me to either move on or become-humanish again, I would need to learn how to feel again. Sam helped me towards that, but you're right. I couldn't drag him down with me. I have to go now, but if you should ever find yourself in danger that you won't be able to get yourself out of, then I will be there for you. You never need worry about Sam again. He will be safe until it is his time. Thank you for being one of the only people who was ever honest with me." Harry said with a sad smile. Dean opened his mouth to say something to him, to apologise or something. Anything to make the feeling of guilt go away, but Harry turned to look at Sam's back once more and then disappeared.
Harry appeared in one of the motel rooms that he had stayed in with the two brothers. He had no idea where he was, no idea what he was going to do now.
“Hank!” Harry yelled, looking to the ceiling.
“You called?” Hank asked, walking through the front door and looking at Harry in concern. “What’s happened? Why are you back here? Where are the Winchesters?”
“I had to leave them. I couldn’t drag Sam down with me.”
“Oh, my little Reaper. “ Hank said softly, dragging Harry into a hug. “What are you going to do now?”
“I’m going to do my job. I’m going to Reap some souls. Hank, I’m going to go back to Britain for a while. Keep an eye on Sam for me, will you? You know where to find me if anything happens.” Harry kissed Hank on the cheek and then moved out of the hug. Sending a sad smile to Hank, Harry disappeared and left America behind.
A/N- Okay, so how many of you actually want to kill me? For those that want to know, it was the little girl in the portrait that was doing the killin’. As for Harry, those who watch Supernatural will probably know when I am going to bring Harry back in the Winchester’s lives. Don’t worry, I will be! I won’t finish it on this note. You’ll just have to wait a wee while before I start Season Two... Lol...
Please review and try not to threaten me too harshly!! Lol!! Hope you enjoyed!!!
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