A/N: So, this is my first Supernatural fic in a LONG TIME, so bear with me. I'm a huge fan of both Charlie and Felicia Day (having first seen her on Eureka – for those of you who have never seen it, seriously, you need to check it out) and I was heartbroken that, A.) They killed her off and, B.) That she wasn't in more episodes. This is my first time writing Charlie, and I really hope to do her justice. She's a complicated character, who has a lot of interesting quirks and it may be difficult for me to pull that off…but enough rambling and on with the show.

**Constructive criticism is more than welcome, but if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say it at all. It's a waste of time opening a review window to bad mouth people who put a lot of time and effort into their work – and it's not cool. If you don't find a story to your taste, that's fine. Just go back and find something that will. There's no point in bringing someone down in the process. **

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural. Well, I own the DVD's – but I don't think that really counts.

Warnings: Some violence, possibly graphic – Sick/hurt! Charlie, Big Bro! Sam & Dean.

No real time setting for this one…just obviously before they killed her.

CHAPTER ONE

Waverley Hills Sanatorium – Louisville, Kentucky

She had been sitting in her car for an hour, staring at the impressively gothic batwing structure in terrified awe and wondering why the frack her life had become a series of messed up Stephen King novels.

It was because Charlie Bradbury never turned away from a challenge; no matter what form it came in, and especially if the challenge was in the form of two very dangerous and very over-protective men who had become like brothers to her.

So, despite promising Sam and Dean Winchester that she would lay low and stay out of trouble, she was parked outside a creepy old building at midnight, trying to gather up enough courage to go inside and 'check it out.'

She turned her gaze to her most prized possession, a figurine of Hermione Granger – stuck to the dash of her Gremlin with double sided tape – and sighed.

Did she run away when Ron was being dragged into the Whomping Willow by Sirius Black? Did she turn her back on her friends when Voldemort and his merry band of Death Eaters attacked Hogwarts?

Charlie shook her head and took a deep breath. No, she didn't.

She may not have a wand or magical powers, but she had a shot-gun loaded with rock salt and various other questionable items hidden in the trunk of her little yellow car.

She could totally do this.

Gently tapping her fist against the figurine, she opened the door and stepped out into the night.

Shotgun tucked between her legs (barrel pointing towards the ground, obviously), Charlie snapped the chain that barred the front entrance of the Sanatorium. Up until a few months prior, the place was a tourist attraction – the couple that owned the joint, ran Ghost Tours regularly and even loaned it out to Paranormal Investigators from across the world – it was only when one curious individual got separated from the tour group and somehow contracted Tuberculosis, that the whole place was shut down and deemed a biohazard. The woman died three weeks later, but not before starting a local epidemic of the very disease that Waverley Hills was built to contain.

The door squeaked open, and unable to stop her hands from shaking, Charlie fumbled for the flashlight in her pocket as she stepped inside.

'Lumos,' she muttered, flicking the switch and passing the beam over the vast foyer. If she could just pretend that she was only LARPing, the terror might fade a little and she could do what she came here to do. Not that she exactly knew what she was doing or what she was looking for. She had done her research, talked to the victim's family and even interviewed the tour guides that had once run this place – but so many people died here that it would be hard to determine if the disease was passed on by a malicious spirit (although how that was possible, she had no idea) or if the woman was just incredibly unlucky.

There was another possibility, though. One of the guides told her of a German legend – that if you encountered your spirit double or doppelganger, you would die. Maybe she had bumped into herself…

A haunting scream echoed through the entryway, and although it sounded like it came from further inside the institution, Charlie jumped – her heart pounding in her throat.

'Charlie, you idiot.' She scolded herself, squeezing her eyes shut so she could calm herself down.

She should have called the boys – it was dangerous to go alone and she seriously needed backup.

The hair on the back of her neck prickled, like she was being watched and oh god, she really shouldn't have done this.

Turning slowly, she opened her eyes – but was not expecting to see the spirit of a nurse standing right there, let alone a nurse that looked uncannily like herself.

The opaque woman gave her a sad smile and merely dispersed like a wisp of smoke, leaving Charlie standing alone in the foyer.

She had only been inside the building for five minutes…

Five minutes and she had blown her chance at being a Hunter, at helping Sam and Dean fight the good fight.

Despite the fear coursing through her blood, Charlie lifted her chin and strode purposefully out the door. She wasn't going to die.

She was going to drive for 11 hours to Lebanon, tell the guys she screwed up and hope that between the three of them, they could come up with a plan that would specifically involve her not dying.

Hopefully.

Sam was just sitting down with a cup of coffee and the morning paper, when he heard the violent bashing on the bunker door. Frowning, he pushed the chair away and stood, checking his watch. Dean had stepped out to get some lunch barely 15 minutes before, so unless he forgot his wallet – he wasn't due back for another half hour at least, traffic permitting.

The bashing continued, followed by a voice that he recognised and admittedly, missed.

'C'mon bitches, open up!' Charlie called in a tone that deepened Sam's frown. It sounded happy and carefree, but it was forced, and it immediately sent his alarm bells ringing.

He raced up the spiral staircase, two at a time and pulled the heavy door open, revealing a very flustered red-head, with her fist poised to knock again.

Without a word, she launched herself at him – arms wrapped around his back and face pressed into his stomach as if seeking comfort.

'Whoa, Charlie! You alright?' He asked, squeezing back in earnest. To this day, he never quite understood how this bright and happy creature had made such a difference in their dark lives, but he knew without a doubt that both he and Dean would do just about anything to protect this kid – an honorary Winchester and as far as he was concerned, baby sister. Now he understood how Dean felt every time he got hurt in a dangerous situation. Nauseated, terrified, concerned beyond anything he had ever experienced, except, perhaps when it came to Dean. But he was right. It's different when you're dealing with a younger sibling – and he felt it now, because Charlie was shaking in his arms and his shirt was getting wet.

'Hey, hey. Charlie? Talk to me.' He soothed softly, rubbing the length of her spine with a large hand.

She stepped back and wiped her eyes, sniffing miserably and avoiding eye contact.

'Is Dean here?' She asked quietly, squeezing past Sam to get inside.

'No, he's getting lunch. I can call him and get him to grab you something if you like?' He offered, closing the door and following her down the stairs and into the dining room.

'Soup?' She asked, uncertainly, sitting down and resting her head on the table.

Sam sat down next to her and brushed the curtain of fiery locks from her face. She was pale – but her cheeks were flushed and she felt a little warm when Sam pressed his hand to her forehead.

'Is everything alright?' He asked gently as she flinched from his touch.

She sighed and peered at him with tired eyes. 'No, but I'd like to wait for Dean. I don't really want to explain this twice.'

Sam nodded and grabbed his phone, hitting speed dial and selecting the speaker function.

Dean picked up almost immediately. 'Yo, Sammy. What's up?'

'Hey. Charlie just showed up – has something to tell us. Could you pick up some soup?

'Please?' She added quietly.

There was a moment of silence on the other end. Sam guessed that Dean was picking up on the same thing he had – that something was wrong and they weren't going to like it.

'Sure, kiddo. Chicken noodle alright? I'm getting Chinese anyway – I can just add it to the order.'

'Sound's fantastic,' she replied with little enthusiasm.

'Great. Hey Sammy, can I talk to you for a second?'

Charlie closed her eyes and waved him away – it was obvious that this was a brother thing and she just needed quiet for a couple of minutes.

Sam turned the loudspeaker off and wandered from the room, but kept Charlie in his line of sight.

'What's goin' on? She doesn't sound like her cheerful old self,' Dean pointed out over the indistinct sound of chatter at his end.

'I dunno yet. She just turned up out of nowhere – looks like she's been driving all night, and then some. She's got a bit of a fever as far as I can tell, but she doesn't want to go into detail until we're both here.' Sam replied, wincing in sympathy as Charlie began to cough.

'We're not gonna like this, are we?'

Sam sighed. 'I already don't, man. Something isn't right – like our kind of something. I'm getting this…vibe from her. I can't explain it right now, but I think that whatever's goin' on, is likely to get worse.'

'Dammit. Alright, well I've got the goods and I'm heading back now. Get her on the couch and make her some tea, or something. We'll figure it out when we have the details.'

Hanging up, Sam wandered back into the dining room and gave Charlie's shoulder a squeeze.

'You go lay on the couch, I'll make you some tea,' he suggested as she lifted her head and gave him a wan smile.

'Tryin' to get me into bed, Winchester? You already know you're not my type.' She joked half-heartedly, rising to her feet and rubbing her chest absentmindedly.

Sam chuckled. 'Wouldn't dream of it. That's more Dean's style anyway.'

Charlie snorted and dragging her feet, slowly made her way to the couch.

As the younger Winchester watched her go, his heart sank. Whatever she had to tell them, it wasn't going to be good.

When Dean returned with lunch, Charlie was sipping her tea cautiously, curled up on the couch with Sam sitting on the adjacent coffee table. He carefully set the bags down and gave the girl a quick hug from behind, before dishing out the food and joining Sam on the table.

He watched her take a couple of spoonful's of the hot soup, before she set it down on the floor next to her and reached for her satchel.

'You should eat first kid, you look like crap,' Dean admitted, though not unkindly.

'Gee thanks, Dean. You sure know how to make a girl feel pretty.' Charlie replied dryly, pulling out a thick manila folder and opening it up.

'Louisville, Kentucky.' She began without preamble, taking another sip of tea. 'Home to Waverly Hills Sanatorium, which opened up in 1910 and was designed to safely hold 40 to 50 Tuberculosis patients. As the need arose, they continued to expand it and as of 1926 it could hold over 400 patients. It was kind of a self-contained community – they even grew their own produce…but it was eventually closed down with the discovery of streptomycin.'

She paused to cough harshly into the crook of her elbow and the brothers exchanged concerned glances, waiting for the fit to abate before she continued.

'Up until about three months ago, the owners ran Ghost Tours of the hospital – with only a handful of reports of minor paranormal activity. Noises, touches and a few semi-violent attacks, until someone got separated from a tour group and somehow ended up contracting Tuberculosis. She died a few weeks later, but not before causing a local outbreak of the disease.'

Dean screwed up his face in disgust.

'Sounds nasty,' he supplied, ignoring the glare his brother shot him for interrupting.

'Yeah, it's not a very nice disease. Records indicate there were over 60 thousand deaths within the hospital… But here's the real kicker. How could she have been the only person to contract it from the site? It was cleared of any traces of the disease…so, I went out there.'

'Charlie…' Dean growled, earning himself a solid death glare from the girl.

'Shut up Dean, I'm not finished. Anyway, I interviewed the locals and didn't have much luck until I spoke to one of the Tour Guides. He told me about an old legend, about Doppelgangers. It had been experienced by a group of students that he had left to check something out a few floors above. When he got back, the students were kinda pissed, said that they had seen him down the end of the hall and when they tried to call for him, he turned and walked away…but he insisted he had been on the other floor the whole time. The legend goes, that we all have doppelgangers – usually of a past life and if you ever come face to face with yours, you die. That's what I'm thinking happened to the woman. She sensed something familiar and went after it, only to discover her doppelganger.'

'OK, so you found us a hunt and did all the leg work. Good job kiddo,' Dean said with a grin, but it soon dropped upon seeing the guilty look on Charlie's face.

'That's the problem…I went to check it out alone. I got as far as the foyer when…'

'When, what, Charlie,' Sam ground out, more from concern than anger.

'When I saw myself. In an old nurses uniform. I was perfectly healthy before I saw her…me. I was about two hours into my drive across when I started to feel like crap.'

She paused again.

'I think I'm gonna die.' She finished with a frightened whisper.

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