Lawrence, Kansas, 1983
Every soul is familiar with the story of the Winchesters. One night in November, Mary Winchester was killed. On this night, fire erupted through the small farm home and engulfed Mary's body, almost engulfing the lives of her husband, John, and their sons, Sam and Dean. As fire erupted through the house, not every soul was put at peace in the fire, violent death or not. The lifespan of a soul begins in alarming ways. One soul's egg was burned in the fire along with Mary's body. Over the home of these innocent souls, a shooting star flew overhead, being washed out by the flashing lights of the fire trucks extinguishing the flames shrouding the Winchesters' home. Dean, leaning against his father and holding his baby brother, looked up to the sky as the shooting star retreated into the heavens. Tears streamed down his face as he held Sam close to him. He looked to where the star was going, thinking he could still see it, and made a hopeful wish.
"I wanted somebody to make it out alive…" he whispered into his brother.
At this point, the star was long gone, as well as Sam's ability to remain awake. Dean sat down against a car wheel and rested his head against the car itself. John continued to look at the house, as if in denial, slack-jawed, tears drying from his face. He could not rescue his wife. He could hardly rescue his boys. As his hands clenched into fists over and over again, he screamed at the sky, swearing death at the sky.
Toledo, Ohio, Present day
Dean bit into the beefy patty of red meat and ketchup, lettuce leaves falling down his chin as Led Zeppelin played at a low volume on the radio. Tomatoes crunched between his teeth as he chewed obnoxiously, causing Sam to cringe slightly while sitting next to him in the Impala.
"Dude, could you eat that a little slower? Or…neater?" Sam asked in disgust.
Shaking his head, Dean replied, "No way. I'm not sure you understand the fact that this," he shook the burger in front of Sam's face, "is heaven. All right? Shut up and eat your salad."
The crunching continued while Sam looked out the window, looking through the window of the restaurant, whose parking lot they were stationed in. Attempting to keep his mind off the unnatural chewing sounds occurring to his left, his eyes pin-pointed a newspaper stand next to the entrance to the restaurant. Looking over to his brother, to hopefully get him to get on focus, he found that Dean was incapable of giving any attention to him or anything beyond the range of the burger. Sighing, Sam left the car to retrieve a newspaper. When the paper was in his hands, the headliner made him blink in surprise. He walked back to the Impala and slapped the paper on the windshield.
"Dude. We've got a case. Here. Let's go." He tossed the paper through Dean's window and got back in the car on his side.
Dean groaned, sad that his journey with his burger must come to an end, tossing the food items back in the bag and tossing it into the back seat. He swallowed the chunk of meat that he was chewing, wiped his mouth on his jacket sleeve, and started the car. He pulled out and raced down the road with Sam's direction.
"All right Sam, what'd you get?" Dean asked, keeping his eyes on the road.
"A man's eyeballs exploded."
A short silence, then Dean looked at Sam. "Come again?"
"His eyes exploded. Found dead by his daughter in the bathroom, lying in a pool of his own blood." Sam explained.
"And you think this is us?"
"No break-ins, only the daughter's friends were there, they reported nothing fishy. So this is us." Sam crossed his arms.
A silence continued for several miles, with various sighs coming from Sam's mouth. Dean turned up the radio, hoping to ease the tension beginning to float around in the car. The Impala continued to race down a straight road, surrounded by corn, for miles, until there was a sign for a city limits. Dean slowed down to a slow 40 miles per hour and looked over at his brother.
"Come on, Sammy. What's on your mind?" he attempted to give a half-smile.
"Dad. And mom." He looked down to his lap and cracked his knuckles.
Dean didn't say anything on account of the fact that they were entering the town, according to Sam and the paper's article. Sam didn't help in finding a motel to crash at, he only loomed in his thoughts for the remainder of the ride. Once the motel was found, Sam stayed in the car while Dean took his false credit card in with him to pay for a room. As he walked through the front door, a little bell chimed, signaling his arrival to the management. A young woman sat up and greeted him, taking his card.
"Uh, yea, just for a week. Me and my brother, two queens." He scratched his nose while he looked around the motel lobby.
The woman smiled and handed Dean his card back. "Well, it looks like I'll have three guests checking in in one day!" she suddenly stopped, frowned, and examined Dean's face.
Dean blinked and shook his head, scrunching his face in confusion. "What?"
"You look familiar. Like I've seen your face somewhere before. I can't quite…"
"That's odd, I've never been around these parts before. Maybe it's just—''
"A girl did check in earlier. Do you have family?" she cut him off.
Swallowing, Dean shook his head. "No. Just…just me and my brother." He nodded and left the lobby, returning to Sam outside.
"Hey. What's up?" Sam asked, holding a bag over his shoulder.
"That chick at the front desk thought I looked familiar. Weird." He got his own bag from the trunk.
Sam looked to the far left of the parking lot to see a gray ford truck, a type of car a teenager would drive like a hand-me-down from their parents. It was scraped and banged up in areas, the windows were tinted and there seemed to be trash in the front seat, as he could see through a cracked open window. It was only a burger wrapper and a soft-drink, pink lemonade in a bottle. Sam shrugged and followed Dean to the motel. Sam stopped when he saw the flutter of curtains in his peripheral vision. He looked to a corner room of the building, only to see the still-swaying curtains and nothing beyond them.
Motel Room 302
The curtain was still swaying. Backing away from it slowly, she began to think of ways to not interact with them, to not draw attention to herself. She picked up her laptop from the table with one hand and turned a lamp on in the corner of the room. The start-up screen read "Hello Emily". She curled up on the couch and scrolled through various websites, taking notes on information she found. She heard rustling as the two men settled into their room. She didn't bother getting up, she just took her socks off and threw them near her boots, next to a zebra-print backpack. She wore a comfortable flannel shirt, black camisole underneath with dark navy jeans. The flannel was red and blue, the earrings matched, which were lightning bolts. She kept moving her hair out of her face as it kept falling into her vision. Eventually she just tied it back loosely.
"Twenty minutes in this motel and they aren't even talking." She mumbled to herself.
She closed the lid of the laptop and stood up, she pressed her ear against her door, just in case she would be able to hear them from three rooms over. Nothing, just the vibrating mattress, which gave her goose bumps when she used her own, every room had one. Finally one of them began to talk.
"Dean, the case? Should we go to the victim's house or are you gonna lounge in your bed all day?" they said, annoyed.
"In a minute, just let the quarter finish its course."
The bed stopped its vibrating once he said that, which made her laugh against the paneling of the door.
"Okay, let's go…" the one who was Dean groaned sadly.
Their door clicked open, which caused her to rush to her boots to put them and the socks back on. Their talking was heard until they tromped down the steps to the lobby. When she couldn't hear them anymore, her hand rested on the door handle.
Should I follow them first?
With that thought, she remembered the case.
"Oh, FUCK."
She rushed to her backpack and fished out her suit and fake badge. She threw the suit on and put her black heels on, putting her badge in her pocket and keeping her hair up, only making it tighter. She grabbed her keys and left her room, running down the hall and down the steps.
"They're here for the same reason I am, god damn it!" she yelled at herself as she ran out the lobby door and into her car.
She started the engine and pulled out into the road, steering hard and jerky as she went around corners. After several miles, she saw the home coming up on her right, the property surrounded by cars and people, not of police origin. She found a nearby alley and parked her car there. Fixing her appearance one last time, she smiled and started walking. As she neared the home, she looked around for the black Impala. It wasn't there yet, which would give her some time to scope out her case first. She rang the doorbell and stood up straight, creasing her mouth into a frown. A woman with a black pixie-cut answered the door, wearing all black with black jewelry. Obviously, the family had been returning from a funeral service.
"Can I help you?" she asked.
"Yes, hi, I'm Agent Weathers, FBI. I'm here about the death that happened here." Emily showed the girl her 'badge'.
"Since when does the FBI care about a stroke?"
"I'm only here to ask a few routine questions, a type of therapy. You know what I mean?" she improvised.
A short silence was followed by "How old are you?"
"Twenty-three." She lied through her teeth.
The girl held the door open for Emily to step inside, also mumbling "Jesus, she looks seventeen…."
An internal scream, I AM SEVENTEEN HOW COULD YOU LIE, came from the back of Emily's skull as she walked into the home. There were mirrors on at least every wall. The girl led Emily to the back yard, where a large amount of people were talking to each other in small groups, all wearing funeral garb. Several people at a time looked at her with odd looks, but Emily kept walking. She walked up to a little girl, a blonde, and the pixie-cut who led her outside.
"Now what are these…questions?"
The girl was Donna Shoemaker, the daughter of the man who's eyes exploded. The little girl was Lily, who had the sleepover. Questions rallied out of Emily's mouth as she made notes. She only stopped asking questions when Lily mentioned the game at the sleepover.
"What game?" she asked Lily.
"Bloody Mary! My friends made me say her name three times in front of the bathroom mirror! This is my fault!"
Emily heard the sound of a gas-guzzling engine pull in front of the house. Following the stop of the engine were two door slams. Emily had to think quickly if she didn't want to be noticed.
"May I see the location of death?" she asked Donna.
Donna nodded and led Emily back into the house and up the stairs. The bathroom was down the hall and to the right. After Donna proceeded to answer the door a second time, Emily took a chance and peered through the railing of the stairs. The men from the motel were standing in the living room. They were wearing their dirty jackets and jeans, no sign of professionalism at all. She rolled her eyes as Donna led them out into the yard. Acting quickly, Emily ran into the bathroom, ignoring the blood that stained the floor tiles. She looked into the mirror and saw no signs of scratching or struggle. She took a picture on her phone of the mirror, along with several of the blood stains on the floor. She scuffed the floor with her heel, the blood was really stained on there. She heard footsteps, there was no way out except for the door and a locked window. She took her chances with the window. Using her heels as extra support to cram the lock open, she broke the heel bit in the process. The talking was getting closer, along with the footsteps. She pried the window open enough for her to shimmy out. Because she was crawling out head first, without thinking, she had to use her ab and leg muscles to prevent her from falling head first. She managed to grab hold of a shingle that stuck out from the house and swung herself down, slamming her back against the house in result. She also twisted her shoulder in the process, causing her arm to have to hold more weight than the other. She kicked her heel off, the other being dropped after the window opened, and prepared to drop to the ground.
"Oh god, why's the window open?" she heard the tall one say.
The window closed, and she dropped to the ground to get her information back to the car.
The Library
"Sam, would you stop playing with that piece of shoe?" Dean asked with a book in his hands.
Sam was holding the broken heel bit found in the Shoemakers' bathroom. He kept turning it in his hands to examine it, when he should have been holding the same research Dean was holding. After their chat with Donna, Lily, and her friend, Dean offered to him to sneak up to the bathroom. Not only was the window open, but there was a piece of shoe lying on the floor next to it. Dean snapped his fingers in front of Sam's face.
"Come on. This Bloody Mary stuff won't research itself." Dean tossed a book in front of Sam.
Sam put the shoe bit in his pocket and picked up the book.
"Hey Dean."
"Yea?"
"I think someone was at the case before us."
Dean looked up from the book. "You serious?"
Sam nodded.
"Well, how do you know?"
"There was blood from the site on the heel bit. And a high heel shoe was in the lawn as we were leaving." Sam felt the urge to take the shoe bit from his pocket.
"There were a lot of women at the house. Probably a coincidence."
Sam tried to open the book to read, but the situation kept itching at him. He took a look around the library. He only saw a few people, one had her ipod in and was sitting at a laptop, chewing gum. The rest were browsing books. He sighed and read a couple pages. Bloody Mary was known for scratching the eyes out of anyone who said her name three times. Shoemaker had showed up in front of the mirror after Lily said it, and his eyes had been torn out. The fact that children hadn't been affected by this game anywhere else was confusing to him. He kept rerunning the scene in his head as he tried to read.
"The gray truck from the motel…" he mumbled.
"The what now?" Dean asked, now annoyed with Sam's interruptions.
"It was parked in an alley that was close to the house." Sam continued.
"So what?"
Sam bit his tongue and dismissed the subject. He continued to read until he found an image of a mirror, crudely drawn by the book's author. He shook Dean's arm and showed him the image.
"This was the area where Mary was murdered. Maybe something involving these mirrors is a connection."
Dean looked at him with furrowed eyebrows. "You dummy, haven't you heard the legend? Of course the mirrors are connected!" he swatted the book away.
Sam sighed and massaged his forehead. Dean rolled his eyes and leaned forward, trying to gain eye contact with him. "Hey. What's goin' on with you, Sam?"
Sam shook his head. "Nothin', Dean."
The girl with the laptop closed it and got up. She gave Dean a quick look and walked to another section of the library. Dean smacked Sam with a book, causing Sam to blink and smack Dean back. They proceeded with a slap fight, Dean shielding himself with a book from their large stack of them. Sam hid under the table.
"Bitch."
"Jerk."
As Sam attempted to get out from under the table, he bumped his head and grunted, Dean's smile spreading across his face.
"You think that's funny?" Sam smiled at his brother.
Sam's smile was interrupted by the clicking of computer keys. He looked across the library near the entrance, to see the girl with the laptop and the flannel shirt. He gestured at Dean. He turned around in his chair as the girl snapped a picture of their Impala on her phone. She closed her laptop again and swiftly left through the doors.
"Sam, did she just snap a photo of Baby?"
"Yea." Sam swallowed.
Dean bolted from his chair and ran toward the doors. Sam was dodging bookshelves and chairs and watched his brother go out the door first. Sam followed him and saw the gray truck pull out of the parking lot just as he burst through the doors.
"She's heading for the motel, Sam!" Dean shouted, getting into the Impala.
Sam ran to the car door and slid in his side. Dean backed up in the lot and sped out of the lot. Tires screeching around corners, they kept in pursuit of the gray car back to the motel.
"Dean, we can't ambush her. I have a different idea." Sam said while looking at the darkening sky.
Motel
Emily tossed her laptop on the couch, careful to not break it. She kept part of the curtain open so she could see when the two of them would return. No sign of the Impala yet, so she took charge and left her room. Their room was only two down the hall from her. She took a bobby pin from her pocket and began fiddling with their lock. When the lock finally clicked, she snuck into the room, closing the door behind her. On one bed was a duffel bag and a pistol, a laptop was on the other. She crept around, looking inside the bag to see guns and knives. A cross or two were on the bottom of the bag, and a vile of salt was in there. A gun cocked behind her head. Her heart stopped for a second before it beat rapidly again.
"Listen there, sweetheart. You got two seconds to show your face and tell me what's goin' on here."
Emily, by natural reaction, slowly raised her hands and turned around to face her attacker. He was taller than her, green denim jacket and jeans. It was one of the men from the Impala, and from the case. He was glaring at her with the gun pointed to her forehead now. His glare faltered when she was looking into his deep, green eyes. A surprised look flashed through his eyes but it faded quickly, resuming his threatening glare into her.
"Tell me who you are." He asked her again.
"Well, I suppose I could tell you." She smiled.
His glare deepened. With a swift punch to the shoulder, she was able to grab and twist his elbow, disarming him of the gun. She swept her foot under his while he was in shock. A force came from behind her when he hit the floor, careening her into the wall, head bouncing off the drywall. When she hit the ground, a tall man attempted to stomp on her, or at least to press his foot into her to keep her still. She dodged and rolled across the room until she hit another wall. Her foot caught with a table as she tried to run to the bedside table for the lamp. She tripped and bounced off the corner of the bed, once again on the ground. She couldn't get up this time, for a giant hand grabbed the front of her camisole, thrusting her upward and onto the wall. Struggling was useless, his grip was too strong. So strong in fact, she had some difficulties breathing. The other man stood up.
"I told you, and now I'm asking again! Who are you?!" he pointed his gun at her, past the taller man.
"Dean, she's a teenager. Put your gun away."
"Like hell! She's been snooping around our stuff like a rodent!" he shouted.
"I prefer cat, thanks." She chimed in.
"Shut up." The taller one growled.
She shrugged.
"Now then, what's your name?" the tall one asked.
"Emily."
"Was that so hard? I'm Sam. This is Dean." He was trying to be calm, reasoning.
"A first name isn't enough, kid." He still refused to holster his gun.
She sighed. "I'm a hunter. Emily Winchester."
Sam and Dean's eyes widened. Sam's grip tightened on her and she winced. Dean definitely didn't feel like holstering the gun now. Sam pursed his lips, a crazy look in his eyes.
"Winchester?" he asked.
"Yea. What about it?" the look of pain was still on her face.
Sam lowered her and dragged her out their door. She started screaming and Sam lifted her, put his hand over her mouth, and glared very threateningly.
"Where's your room?" Dean asked aggressively.
Emily mumbled '302' through Sam's hand. Dean kicked the door in and gestured for Sam to follow. She was being half-drug, half-carried to her room which, from the sound of it, Dean was now destroying. She began to try to pry Sam's hand off her mouth when she was flung into her own wall. Dean ripped the phone cord from the wall and tied her hands up. Sam went directly to the laptop she left on the couch. Dean walked over to her and felt her pockets and shoes, finding a knife in her rear pocket. The hope left her face, not just because of her means of escape being stolen, but because she remembered she didn't lock her laptop before she attempted her snooping. Sam began searching her files while Dean looked through her backpack. A look of dismay went across his face as he looked through her various ID cards and credit cards.
"She's a hunter all right." Dean confirmed, tossing the cards away from him.
"Why you so depressed about that?" Emily challenged.
"Shut it, we're snooping through your stuff now." Dean challenged back.
She rolled her eyes and watched them root through her personal information. She looked at Sam, who seemed to be having a casual time going through her laptop.
"Dean. This is the one from the case."
"You're working our case?" Dean looked at her again.
"More like you're working my case. I got in this morning, you came after me." She scowled at him.
Sam covered his mouth with one hand as he kept scrolling. His eyes lit up when he got to, she assumed, her folder password.
"Bet you can't crack it." She teased.
She heard the 'ding' as the folder allowed Sam into it. She frowned and slumped on the floor in defeat. Any personal information about her was in that folder.
"Dean, she's the real deal. Emily Winchester, born December 26th, 1996. She even looks it. Seventeen." He looked up from the screen. "Why do you have personal info about yourself on your laptop?"
"In case my memory fails. Amnesia. It's happened once on my first mission, I was ten. I had no idea, where I was or who I was. I lost it, but I found my information thanks to a stranger in the woods."
They both looked at her strangely. "And you believed him? A stranger in the woods?" Dean shook his head with disappointment. "Kids."
"It all checked out. Police even printed me. It was legit."
Sam closed the lid. "You're…a Winchester."
"Yes…again, so what?"
They looked at each other. Sam spoke. "I'm Sam Winchester. This is my older brother, Dean Winchester." He spoke slowly.
Her eyebrows furrowed. Dean let her stand and they walked to a mirror. They both looked in it at the same time. The resemblance was uncanny. Same face, same green eyes. Same color hair, hers being a little lighter shade of brown than Dean's. The only difference was that she had freckles and they didn't. She had full lips, just like Sam's. Same broad shoulders as both of them. They still kept her hands tied up, but sat her down on the couch.
"Sam. A minute alone please?" he asked his brother.
They both stood up from the couch and proceeded to her bedroom. Dean made a noise of awe when he saw the vibrating bed. "Man, these are everywhere…"
Sam gave him a look. "Dude, focus."
"Right. Mystery girl saying she's a Winchester. Creepy."
"More like impossible. Mom was dead and we would have noticed a younger sibling in our lives at the point she could have been…made."
"You think it's a monster deal?" Dean contemplated.
"I'm thinkin' the same monster that killed mom." Sam looked in at her while she was trying to lick the tip of her nose.
He looked back at Dean, seeing he was trying to do the same thing. Sam's face read the loss of hope in his brother, as his family history was collapsing in on him. Dean looked at Sam and stopped.
"I wanted to try it…" he mumbled.
"If you think I'm some type of monster spawn, go ahead and test me. Gimme your best shot. I'm allergic to nickel though, it's pesky." She remarked from the other room.
Sam and Dean looked at each other. Dean took his knife from his pocket and took it to Emily. She looked up at him, clearly not giving a shit at the moment whether she got cut or not. Her face was bloody anyway, and her hair was straggly. Her laptop and hotel room were just ramsacked, so whether she got tested or not was unimportant at this point. He cut her forearm, she winced, but she watched the blood trickle out and eventually raised an eyebrow. He splashed salt on her next. With no reaction, he proceeded to holy water. She gave a smile of annoyance as the water fell down her face. Her eyes were squeezed shut as she shook her face off.
"Sam," Dean said with a kind of relief, "she's the real deal."
Sam walked in and stopped next to Dean, and in front of her.
"Does this mean you're…my brothers?" she was trying not to get sentimental.
"I guess so." Sam nodded, looking at Dean, who also nodded.
Dean cut the cord around her wrists and let her stretch. The mood in the air was, obviously, awkward. No hugs, just awkward smiles between them.
"Oh. Uh. We kinda…trashed your car." Dean smiled.
Emily's jaw dropped and her face filled with dismay. "My car?!"
They both shrugged. She moped and slumped on the couch. Dean kept clearing his throat until Sam, annoyed, broke the silence.
"If you're our sister, there are some things you should know."
They sat down next to her and explained the night their mother was killed. Dean running with Sam out of the nursery, their dad not being able to save her. The house on fire, and eventually, their life. How they became hunters. Emily followed along with the story, eyes sad from start to finish, stomach also growling and ruining the somewhat tender moment they were having. Dean's also growled, and Sam looked at him with a bitchy look in his eyes.
"What? I'm hungry too."
"Great role model, Dean. Great job." Sam looked to her again. "You follow?"
She nodded. "But…if your mom is dead…how am I here?"
"We have no idea." Dean smiled and patted her knee. "But let's cut the mushy crap. You have information we need to finish this case. We're gonna need that."
"Dean, I think you're missing the point here. We just met our sister, and you're worried on this case?" Sam stood and narrowed his eyes.
"The faster we gank this thing, the faster Catwoman can meet her dad." He stood up too.
With the name 'Catwoman', Emily smiled wide. She stood up with them and went back to their room to discuss information, leaving the tattered room behind.
The Impala, The next day
"This. Car. Rocks!" Emily exclaimed upon getting in.
"See? Sam? It rocks. She is our sister." Dean smiled as he sat in the driver's seat.
Sam rolled his eyes and sat in the passenger seat. Emily took out a notebook and began reading them directions to the home of the friend from the funeral party. Sam had a missed call, from her. The voicemail was static, so their first priority was to get to her house for information. Emily looked out the window for some of the ride. It was only the beginning of the average school day, so it was odd that the girl would be out of school at this time of day. She smiled to herself, she never learned that girl's name. She looked too blonde to be trusted…not that all blondes were trusted, but she would probably ruin the investigation.
"Hey. You alive back there?" she heard Dean ask.
She nodded at his eyes in the rearview mirror, and he nodded back. "You didn't sleep, did you?"
She shook her head. "I wanted to research some more…"
"See? Dean? She likes research. She is our sister." Sam smirked.
Emily laughed as Dean slapped his arm. When they approached the home, she sat on the edge of her seat. Dean and Sam got out first and she followed them. Dean turned around to look at her.
"I don't care how trained you are, if there's trouble, you're out and you let us handle this."
Slightly insulted, she nodded and let him have a big brother moment.
"There's a car in the driveway. Hers?" Sam asked.
Dean tugged on Sam's sleeve. When Sam looked over at him, he was pointing to the side of the house. Emily was attempting to climb up what must have been to the bedroom window. Via, of course, the side of the house.
"What are you doing?!" Dean whisper-shouted.
Emily knocked at the window, a scream from another girl followed it. She called down to them "Yea, she's in there."
Dean looked at Sam with bugged out eyes. "She's insane."
Sam nodded. "Yea."
When Emily was let into the bedroom, a girl was curled up and sobbing, an absolute wreck. Sam and Dean came in the boring way: through the front door. Sam and Dean gave her a look, one that read they could handle this. She stood back and let them handle the situation. Sam began taking mirrors down and covering them up with sheets. She tried to help, but Dean told her to stay put. She pouted. Sam missed the mirror in the bathroom, so she wandered in. She removed the mirror, but stopped placing it on the ground when she saw an inscription on the back.
"Hey guys, I think I found something." She said, hoping they would walk in.
"What's up?" Asked Dean when he walked in.
There was a name written on the back of the mirror. As Emily and Dean inspected it, Sam uncovered the truth. The blonde girl's boyfriend had told her to stay with him, or else he'd kill himself. She left because of an emotional matter, and he did it. She felt incredibly guilty. Donna had said "Bloody Mary" in the mirror while she was in the room with her, and now Bloody Mary was after her. Sam stood there, putting pieces of the puzzle together in his head.
"Mary was murdered and left behind guilt. So now, she kills the people for the guilt they keep in their minds. Her mirror must be here, in town." He concluded.
"Way ahead of you, Sam." She pulled out her phone.
Dean looked at Sam. "You didn't check her phone?"
Sam gave Dean a look of disgust. Dean put his hands up in defeat as she showed them her phone. There was a location and a map, along with a picture of the mirror. Sam nodded and instructed the other girl to stay put and not to look in any reflections. She nodded and they made their way back out of the house the boring way, the front door.
Antique store, 11:00 pm
Sam was fiddling with the locked door in the back of a local antique store. Emily kept watch behind Dean, who had his gun out and ready to fire. The lock clicked and they were in. Sam led the way, putting his lock-pick away and un-holstering his gun. There were mirrors everywhere. Emily closed the door and walked in behind them, stopping when she too saw the array of mirrors.
"Shit." She spoke first.
"Sam, we have to destroy that mirror." Dean continued.
"All right, start breaking mirrors." Sam grabbed a piece of metal that was just lying in the storehouse.
"YES. Let's fuck shit up." She grabbed a blunt object.
Dean gave Sam an approving look. Sam didn't chuckle, he only responded with a smash of glass. After only five minutes, there were police sirens blaring down the street.
"An alarm?" Dean woed.
"Go Dean, me and Emily can handle this!"
Dean left out the door and holstered the gun. After the door slammed, Sam lowered his object. Emily broke another mirror when she saw a reflection graze across another mirror in her peripheral vision. She turned and saw Sam standing in front of a mirror, his lips moving.
"Sam?" she lowered her object as well.
She caught the name for after his third time saying it. The reflection moved quickly to the front mirror, the one Sam was standing in front of.
"Sam?!" she ran at him, but a mirror shattered in her way. She was forced to stop.
Mary took on a different form. She became taller and her black hair changed to curly and blonde. Flames burst and swarmed all around her and she began to scream."
"WHY DIDN'T YOU WARN ME, SAM?! THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT! YOU KILLED ME, SAM! YOU MADE ME BURN!"
"Jessica, no…" Sam whispered.
The girl, apparently Jessica, stepped out of the mirror, making Sam's eyes bleed.
"Sam!" she desperately searched for 'Jessica's' mirror.
She found a different mirror. With it, she ran to Sam. But before she could hold up the mirror to 'Jessica', she changed form again. This time, a boy with black hair and green eyes. She froze as the blood trickled from her eyes. Clutching the mirror tightly with both hands, she screamed and showed him the mirror. When the reflection caught, Mary resorted back to her original form. Sam and Emily were coughing, frozen, unable to move along with Mary. The door slammed as Dean ran in.
"You didn't do your job. You killed me. Left me for dead." The voice ran through her head, also Jessica's running through Sam's.
All of a sudden Dean flew by with a crowbar, shouting at the top of his lungs. Glass shattered behind her and Sam, which ceased the blood flow. Mary's form began to crack, and she crumbled to dust before them. Emily passed out and fell on the floor, and dropped the mirror that helped bring the end to Mary. Sam shook his head and sat up, wiping the blood off his face. Dean threw the crowbar away from him, leaving the frame from Mary's original mirror behind. He rushed to Sam first, who just looked around him at all the shattered glass and the heap of his sister next to him.
"Sam, what the hell happened?!" Dean shouted.
Sam was very calm. "I summoned Mary."
Dean sighed and helped Sam up off the floor. They both looked down at Emily, then back at each other.
"We'll ask questions later." Dean told Sam.
"How much later?" Sam picked her up and wiped the blood from her face.
They walked out, police gone from the premises, Dean having shooed them off with talking.
"Obviously not soon, Sam. But what about you? Was that to see Jess?" Dean opened the back door to the Impala.
"…Yea." Sam placed her on the back seat.
"What aren't you tellin' me, Sam?" Dean looked at his brother.
Sam shook his head. "I could have warned her. That's all."
Dean looked back to Emily. "And you could've warned her before you summoned that thing."
Sam nodded as dean started the engine and drove back to the motel.