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Free Supernatural Fanfiction – Chapter Summary:

Sam, Dean, and Analina uncover a haunted painting’s dark secret while Dean pushes Sam to Sera.

Rating: PG-13
Contains:   for mild supernatural tension and emotional themes

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE:  
The Painting

“SO WHAT WAS GOING ON WITH HER?” Dean asked. “She felt weird.”

“Like not quite an angel and not quite a human? And not exactly like an angel possessing a vessel?”

“Yeah,” Dean confirmed.

I looked around. I knew I’d promised Sera I wouldn’t tell anyone about her. But Dean was different. He could feel things like me. I had to tell him.

Plus, if she was in danger from angels, that was something we’d need to address. Our only current angel contact was Cas, and he seemed busy at the moment.

Also… if Sam really liked this girl, she’d be in a lot more danger from us than we were from her.

“She’s a Nephilim,” I confided.

Dean’s eyes grew wide.

I continued, “Apparently, it’s a gene that gets passed on. She claims both her parents are human. She also said she’s been keeping her identity a secret because angels have been killing Nephilim for ages.”

“I guess they’re considered half-breeds to the winged dicks,” Dean muttered, rubbing his chin. “Is she… a good guy?”

“I think so. I only talked to her briefly. Her dad died just over a year ago, and she’s been helping her mom with the auction house. She says she lives normally.”

“Normally?”

“She says she has some… angelic abilities?” I wasn’t sure what vocabulary to use.

“Like?”

“Like she can heal people.”

“But she didn’t heal her dad?” he questioned.

“She said she can only heal if it’s the result of something unnatural. Her dad died of cancer. She was able to help two different childhood friends after a ‘monster’ attack. That’s when they found out she had the Nephilim gene, and her parents told her that no one else must know. They thought it was best that she didn’t use her abilities. But when her dad was dying, she wasn’t able to do anything. That’s when they realized it must only work on supernatural injuries.”

We reached the Impala.

“Can she do anything else?” Dean asked.

“She didn’t say much else. She was a little scared to talk about it,” I admitted. “Plus, we were on our way to find you two.”

I glanced over at him. “So you set Sam up?”

He grinned. “Just helping my little brother out—although I hadn’t realized he’d be dating an angel hybrid.”

I thought for a moment. “That might be a good thing.”

Dean looked up at me expectantly.

“She might not die that easily.”

We stepped into the car.

Sam came out a moment later, looking a little flustered. Dean continued to grin to himself—until he heard what Sam said.

The painting was still in the auction house.

“I don’t understand. You said you burned it,” I said.

“We did,” Sam agreed.

“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,” Sam started. “Well, um, 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?”

THIS MEANT WE HAD TO DO SOME RESEARCH. Dean was not thrilled.

We found out the whole family had been killed. The father, Isaiah Merchant, had slit his children’s throats, then his wife’s, and finally his own. Isaiah had been a barber and used a razor. He was considered a stern man with a harsh temperament. When he heard his wife wanted to leave him with the children, he killed them.

Unfortunately, our research indicated they were all cremated.

There was a photo of the family that matched the haunted painting—supposedly destroyed. We got copies of everything and went back to the motel to think things over.

“I’m telling you, man. 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, Dean,” Sam insisted.

I never saw the original painting, so I couldn’t say if he was right or wrong.

“All right, so you think Daddy Dearest is trapped in the painting and handing out Columbian neckties like he did with his family?” Dean asked.

“Well, yeah, it seems like it. But if his bones are already dusted, then how are we going to stop him?”

“Maybe if Isaiah’s position changed, then something else changed in the painting too? Give us more clues?” I suggested.

“What, like a Da Vinci Code deal?” Sam asked.

“Possibly,” I said.

“Then we gotta go back in and see that painting,” Dean said. He plopped down on the bed. “Which is a good thing—’cause you can get some more time to crush on your girlfriend.”

“Dude, enough already,” Sam retorted.

“What?” Dean asked.

“What?” Sam repeated. “Ever since I got here, you’ve been trying to pimp me out to Sera. Just back off, alright?”

“Well, you like her, don’t you?” Dean continued. I eyed him, but he ignored me.

Sam raised his arms and eyes to the ceiling in frustration.

“All right, you like her. She likes you. You’re both consenting adults.”

I went into the bathroom at that point. I could still hear them arguing outside.

By the time I washed my hands, the noise had died down. I listened at the door for a moment.

“You know, seriously, Sam. This isn’t about just hooking up, okay? I mean… I think that this Sera girl could be good for you,” Dean confided.

I heard Sam sigh.

“And… I don’t mean any disrespect, but I’m sure this is about Jessica, right? I would think she’d want you to be happy. God forbid, have fun once in a while. Wouldn’t she?”

I had forgotten about Jessica—Sam’s girlfriend who died like their mother, about six years ago this month. No wonder he seemed a little out of sorts and hesitant with Sera.

“Yeah, I know she would,” Sam conceded quietly.

I came back out after another moment of silence.

I saw Dean lean back on the bed. “Well, we still gotta see that painting, which means you still gotta call Sera, so…”

I walked over and sat on the side of the bed next to Dean as Sam made the call.

Sam cleared his throat. Dean shut his eyes.

Sam tried to ignore Dean. “Sera? Hey, it’s Sam… Hey, hi… Good. Good, yeah. Umm, what about you?”

Dean opened one eye to stare at Sam.

Relentless, I thought.

“Yeah, good. Good. Really good.”

Dean whispered, “Smooth.”

I smacked his leg with my hand.

“So, ah, so listen. Me and my brother and Analina were, uh, thinking that maybe we’d like to come back in and look at the painting. I…”

Dean shook his head once more and closed his eyes.

“I think maybe we’re interested in buying it… What?”

He sounded surprised. Dean’s eyes popped open, and Sam stood up.

“Who’d you sell it to?”

Dean and I stood up, too.

Sam continued, “Sera, I need an address right now.”

Image by Copilot and Gemini

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