A little fic in response to the "Recently Resurrected Buffy Jumps Dean" challenge by winchesters girl at tthfanfic. Thanks for the idea, it's a really fun plot bunny!
Disclaimer: I, unfortunately, own neither Buffy or Supernatural. They both belong to their respective geniuses, Joss and Kripke. I'm just borrowing them for a while for my own entertainment. If the boys were mine, lemme tell ya, they wouldn't be traveling the country fighting stuff. I'd find a few uses for them in my own house... Heh, j/k (but not really). This episode is pretty word for word from the Supernatural episode "Bloody Mary." Transcripts taken from twiztv.
Thanks SO MUCH to La fin du monde, dhfreak06, cursed, DrummerGirl76, sabryna, Kriti, Oliverzgirl, porcupineapple, and ZoiAstrea for your wonderful reviews! I'm glad you still read it even though it took me SO LONG to update this freaking thing!
The next morning, Buffy woke up without any of the usual consequences of too much to drink. Thanking The Powers that Be for her Slayer healing, she noticed a soft snoring in her ear and rolled onto her back, a small smile appearing on her face when she saw Dean fast asleep next to her. She had often shared a bed with Dean, as well as several times with Sam, but they had never woken up like this, with Dean's arm curled around her waist and his forehead pressed up against her cheek. They had always woken up on the opposite sides of the bed, hardly touching each other, each remaining in his or her personal space bubble. Right away, she knew that their whole dynamic had changed. Old Buffy would be comparing this situation to her previous experiences with Parker or Angel and formulating a plan to get out before she got hurt. However, new Buffy was completely different. All she could think about was how beautiful Dean looked, the sheet slung low across his hips and his handsome features illuminated by a stray ray of sunlight that shone through the curtains, and how she felt alive when he was touching her, kissing her, whispering things in her ear that she had only read about in dirty magazines. Whatever worked. Anything to fill the void left inside of her at being ripped from heaven and thrust into a world that she never thought she'd never again have to be part of.
Quietly slipping out from under his arm, she tiptoed to the bathroom and took a long shower, enjoying of the feeling of the hot water running over her skin, washing away any signs of her and Dean's escapades. Getting out of the shower and towel drying her hair, Buffy made her way back into the bedroom, seeing that the boys were still asleep, pulling on a pair of jeans and a simple black t-shirt before setting a couple of aspirin and two glasses of water on the nightstand, knowing that they would need it when the woke up. Slipping the room key into her pocket, she exited the motel room, smiling serenely as she closed the door behind her, feeling the heat from the sun warm her back. Wanting to spend a bit of time on her own, she casually strolled down the street to a small coffee shop and ordered three cups, quickly paying the woman at the counter and sitting outside until it was ready. About half an hour later, she reentered the motel room, seeing that a now dressed and awake Dean was once again sitting at the small table by the window and flipping absently through a book they had procured from the library.
"Hey," Buffy greeted, handing him a cup of steaming hot coffee and giving him a smile when he thanked her. Looking across the room at the nightstand, she saw that two of the pills she had set out were missing. "Feeling alright?"
"Yeah, fine, thanks for the aspirin and coffee. Sure as hell needed it after all that shit we drank last night." He shook his head and winced, bringing a hand up to rub at his left temple. "You don't seem too affected by it." Buffy shrugged, placing Sam's coffee on the table and taking a swig of her own.
"Slayer healing, you know the drill."
"Lucky bitch," he teased, causing her to grin and roll her eyes at him. He made no move to discuss what had happened the previous night, and neither did Buffy. No sense in opening that can of worms. If he didn't remember it, then fine. Business as usual.
"No! Jessica!" Buffy almost dropped her cup at Sam's yell, and she looked over to see him lying on his back on the bed and clutching his head in pain. Picking up Sam's coffee and depositing hers in its place, she walked over to him, pressing it into his hand along with the aspirin, deciding not to mention his little outburst. He took them with a grateful half-smile and swallowed the pills, taking a sip of coffee to force them down his throat.
"Why'd you let me fall asleep?" The question was directed at Dean, so Buffy walked over to her and Dean's bed, kicking off her shoes and falling back onto it.
"We didn't let you do anything," Dean answered without looking up from his book. "You passed out the second we got back." There was a pause as he finished up the page he was on and Sam took a few more sips from his cup. "So what'd you dream about?"
"Lollipops and candy canes," Sam joked dryly, but he was doing an extremely poor job at covering up his shock at the nightmare, and Buffy and Dean both saw right through it. Feeling that it was none of her business, Buffy crossed her arms under her head and continued to stare up at the ceiling. Apparently Dean didn't see the good in pushing the issue either.
"Yeah, sure."
"So, you find out anything?" asked Buffy, wanting to get as far away from the awkward situation as possible. If Sam remembered anything about the previous night's activities, he didn't say anything, and Buffy was extremely relieved. They already had enough to deal with without throwing that into the mix.
"Oh, besides a whole new level of frustration?" Dean asked, sighing. "No. We've looked at everything. A few local women, a Laura and a Catherine committed suicide in front of a mirror, and a giant mirror fell on a guy named Dave, but uh, no Mary." Sam gave a frustrated groan and flopped back onto the bed after dropping his now empty cup onto the nightstand.
"Maybe we haven't found it yet," said Sam, always the optimist.
"Maybe," Buffy muttered, sitting up and grabbing her coffee off of the table, effectively draining it in a few sips.
"I've also been searching for strange deaths in the area," Dean informed them, still flipping through the book. "You know, eyeball bleeding. That kind of thing. There's nothing. Whatever's happening here, maybe it just ain't Mary." Suddenly, Sam's shrill ringtone filled the room, causing him to shoot up out of bed, cursing as his head continued to throb. Grabbing his cell phone off of the nightstand, Buffy tossed it to him, tilting her head to the side in curiosity.
"Hello?" There were a few moments of silence as a woman's voice carried over the line. She clearly sounded upset and was crying almost hysterically. "Charlie? Calm down. Yeah. It's going to be fine. We'll be there as soon as we can."
"What happened," asked Dean, having abandoned the book on his lap in favor of the phone call.
"Charlie. Something's happened. We have to go." Sam got dressed as fast as he could with his head pounding and nausea constricting his chest, and a few minutes later, they were in the Impala speeding toward a park that Charlie had mentioned. As soon as the car pulled to a stop, Buffy spotted the blond girl and hopped out of the car, rushing over to her.
"Are you okay?" she asked the younger girl, sitting down on the bench next to her and giving her a concerned look. "What happened?" Sam and Dean appeared, Dean sitting down next to Buffy and Sam choosing to stand in front of them.
"It's Jill..." Charlie started, but quickly dissolved into a fit of sobs. Despite her earlier annoyance with the girl, Buffy felt a stab of sympathy for her and scooched closer, enveloping the blond in a hug and rubbing her back until her sobs subsided.
"Shh, it's okay," she soothed, letting Charlie go as soon as she composed herself but keeping her arm draped around the other girl's shoulder. "Can you tell us what happened?" The girl nodded, giving her a grateful smile, before continuing.
"They found her on the bathroom floor." Her voice was soft, almost a whisper, and even with her Slayer hearing, Buffy had to strain to make out what she was saying. "And her... her eyes." The blond brought her hand to her face to absently run her finger across her closed eyelid. "They were gone."
"I'm sorry," said Sam, his features rearranging into a sympathetic look.
"And she said it." Buffy, Dean, and Sam all exchanged glances before returning their attention to the grieving girl. "I heard her say it." There was a pause as she took a couple of seconds to compose herself. "But it couldn't be because of that." She looked straight in Buffy's eyes, silently begging her to tell her that she was crazy. "I'm insane, right?"
"No, sweetheart, you're not insane," Buffy replied hesitantly, bringing a hand to Charlie's cheek to wipe away a stray tear. She inwardly cocked an eyebrow at her use of the word 'sweetheart,' but she quickly waved it off. It must be the motherly instinct she had adopted since she was forced to take care of Dawn after their mother died.
"Oh God, that makes it so much worse." Buffy looked up at Sam helplessly, urging for him to do something. To make this girl's pain go away.
"Look," he said softly, kneeling down next to her so that they were eye to eye. "We think something's happening here. Something that can't be explained."
"And we're gonna stop it," Dean piped up, causing three heads, two blond and one brunette, to turn toward him. "But we could use your help."
"Anything." Buffy watched as Dean and Sam got to their feet, doing the same and leading Charlie over to the Impala. They all got into the car, Sam and Dean in the front and Buffy and Charlie in the back, and less than five minutes later, they pulled up in front of a simple gray house with white trim. "I'll go in first and then let you guys in," Charlie said as they all got out of the car, slamming the doors with four identical creaks. "That room right there." She pointed to a window on the second story, the first one on the right. Buffy nodded and pushed her gently toward the house, leaning back against the door of the car and watching as the boys got a few supplies from their trunk.
"Ready?" she asked as they stuffed the supplies into their pockets and slammed the trunk shut.
"Let's do it." Buffy led the way, effortlessly scaling the wall and hopping up onto the roof, quickly peering into Jill's bedroom window to make sure that the coast was clear. Not seeing anyone, she grabbed Dean's arm, helping him up, before pulling back and waiting for him to help Sam. Resuming her position at the window, Buffy watched as Charlie entered the room and quietly shut the door, flicking on the lights before crossing to the window and letting them in.
"Thanks," said Buffy, climbing through the window and straightening up, walking around the room and looking at all the pictures and knick knacks in curiosity.
"What'd you tell Jill's mom?" asked Sam, giving Dean a grateful smile as he helped him through the window.
"Just that I needed some time alone with Jill's pictures and things." Looking at Charlie, Buffy felt another stab of sympathy, and her heart went out for the girl. She looked so scared, so hopeful that they would be able to find out what had happened to her best friend. That would be able to make everything better. "I hate lying to her."
"Trust us, this is for the greater good." He quickly closed the window and pulled the curtains closed, gesturing toward the light switch on the opposite side of the room. "Hit the lights." Crossing the small room in a couple of strides, Buffy flipped the switch, plunging the room into semi-darkness. Blinking a few times to help her vision adjust, she could just barely see Sam taking a small, hand-held video camera out of his pocket and switching it on.
"What are you guys looking for?" asked Charlie, watching them curiously as Buffy circled the room, pressing her hands against the walls in search of supernatural energy, while Sam and Dean stood in the middle of the room trying to figure out the camera.
"We'll let you know as soon as we find it," Dean answered, and Buffy sighed, slightly frustrated that they didn't even know what they were looking for.
"Hey, night vision." Dean walked over to his brother and pressed a button on the camera. It seemed to do the trick. "Perfect." Seeing that the camera was pointed at him, Dean gave it a sexy look before smirking.
"Do I look like Paris Hilton?"
"Baby, Paris has nothing on you," quipped Buffy, causing Sam to chuckle and Dean to send her one of his award winning grins. Not finding anything in this room, Buffy made her way to the bathroom, stopping at the mirror.
"So I don't get it," she heard Sam call from the other room. Ignoring him, she ran her palms across the spotless mirror, getting the same feeling that she did when she examined the Shoemaker's mirror. "I mean, the first victim didn't summon Mary, and the second victim did. How's she choosing them?"
"Beats me," muttered Dean, and Buffy walked over to the doorway, poking her head into the bedroom.
"Hey, guys, there's something here." Disappearing back into the bathroom, she waited until the other three were in the room before continuing. "That same magical residue thing that I found at the Shoemaker place. Take a look." Sam walked over to the mirror and turned the camera on it, Buffy standing on her tip toes to look over his shoulder. It wasn't easy, as he was about ten feet tall. "What's that?" she asked, pointing at a trickle of some unknown substance running out from behind the mirror.
"I have no idea. Here, take this." Thankfully, he didn't stick his finger in it this time and merely handed Buffy the camera and ushered her back into the bedroom. Sam then removed the mirror from the wall behind the sink and carried into the other room, gently placing it down on the bed face down.
"How did you know that there was something there?" asked Charlie, tilting her head and looking at Buffy curiously.
"The boys aren't the only ones that have a few tricks up their sleeves," the Slayer answered with a smile, holding her hand out behind her expectantly. "Black light." Dean pulled it from his back pocket and tossed it at her, and Buffy easily caught it without even looking at it before switching it on and holding it over the mirror. "See that?" She continued to move the black light over the back of the mirror, revealing a dripping handprint and the words 'Gary Bryman.' It looked to be written with someone's finger, much like a child writing their name with finger paint.
"Gary Bryman?" read Charlie, her brow furrowing in confusion.
"You know who that is?" asked Sam, but she merely shook her head.
"No." Buffy frowned, wondering what it could mean, and followed Dean, and Sam out of the window and back to the car while Charlie said goodbye to Jill's mom. Fifteen minutes later, Buffy, Charlie, and Dean were sitting outside the small town's public library waiting for Sam to finish up his research.
"You're absolutely sure Jill never mentioned a Gary Bryman?" Buffy pressed gently, but one again, Charlie shook her head.
"Never. I've never heard of him before." Buffy jerked when she felt something touch her hair, but it was only Dean, and Buffy smiled as he picked a stray leaf out of her blond locks before flicking it to the ground.
"Damn... That doesn't really help us too much." The three sat in silence for a few minutes before Sam walked up to them, clutching a small piece of paper in his hand. "Hey, what's the what?"
"So, Gary Bryman was an eight-year-old boy," he informed them, handing Dean a picture of a young, freckle-faced kid. "Two years ago he was killed by a hit and run." Dean passed the photo to Charlie, and she frowned, shaking her head to tell them that she didn't recognize the kid. "The car was describes as a black Toyota Camry, but nobody got the places or saw the driver."
"Oh my God," whispered Charlie, nearly dropping the picture as she brought her hands to her mouth in horror.
"What? What is it?" Buffy asked, taking the picture from the obviously distraught girl and handing it back to Sam.
"Jill drove that car." They were all quiet for a few minutes, letting the information sink in, before Dean spoke up, effectively breaking the silence.
"We need to get back to your friend Donna's house." Without another word, the four headed back to the Impala and got in, arriving at the beige cookie-cutter house a few minutes later. Quickly getting out of the car, Charlie once again went to the front door and Buffy, Dean, and Sam climbed the drain pipe onto the roof and slipped through the unlocked bathroom window, removing the mirror from the wall and taking out the black light. Running the light over the back of the mirror, they once again found a dripping hand print and a name, this time Linda Shoemaker.
"Well shit," Buffy said matter-of-factly, and both boys nodded in agreement. "This can't be good."
"No," Dean agreed, placing the mirror back on the wall and exiting the bathroom, heading for the stairs. "No, it can't. C'mon lets talk to the daughter about it." They walked into the living room where Charlie and Donna were sitting, the later giving them a suspicious look when she caught sight of them.
"What the hell are you doing here? How did you get in?" She turned toward Charlie, pinning her with an accusing glare. "You let them in, didn't you?"
"Donna, wait, they think they know something about your dad's death!" Charlie insisted, jumping to her feet when Donna stalked over to where Buffy and the boys were standing.
"I don't know who you are, but my dad died of a stroke, end of story."
"We don't think so," Buffy said, giving the girl a defiant look when she turned her with a raised eyebrow. "We think it was something else."
"Who was Linda Shoemaker?" asked Sam gently, placing a calming hand on Buffy's shoulder. He was really getting good at sensing her annoyance. Then again, it wasn't too hard to spot. She had never been one of those 'hide-your-emotions' girls.
"Why are you asking me this?" countered Donna, her resolve slipping, but the accusing anger was still present in her eyes.
"Look," said Sam, holding out his hands in a gesture of surrender. "We're sorry, but it's important."
"Linda's my mom, okay?" answered Donna, giving him a 'are you happy now?' look. "She overdosed on sleeping pills. It as an accident, and that's it. I think you should leave." With a dismissive glance, she turned away from them and started toward the stairs.
"Now Donna, just listen," coaxed Dean, trying to make her calm down.
"No!" the girl yelled. "Get out of my house!"
"Wait, Donna!" Buffy tried, but it was too late. She had already vaulted up the stairs and slammed her bedroom door. "Dammit."
"Oh my God," whispered Charlie, looking at Buffy with wide, fearful eyes. "Do you really think her dad could've killed her mom?"
"Maybe," said Sam, placing what he hoped was a comforting hand on her shoulder.
"I think I should stick around." Buffy, Dean, and Sam shared a look before agreeing.
"Alright," said Dean after sharing a look with Buffy. "Just, whatever you do, don't-..."
"Believe me, I won't say it," said Charlie, cutting him off.
"Be careful, okay?" Buffy told the blond, receiving a small nod and smile before exiting the house through the front door and walking over to the Imapla. Sighing, she slid into the back seat, waiting for the boys to get into the front. "So, what are we going to do now?"
"Go back to the motel?" Sam suggested as Dean started the car and pulled it out onto the main road. "More research can't hurt."
"We've already looked through all that stuff," Buffy argued, clearly exasperated at the lack of information they had on the subject.
"I know," Sam answered, sighing in frustration and bringing a hand up to rub at his eyes. "But it's all we can do." Buffy leaned her head against the window with a soft crack, staring at the houses passing, her breath making small puffs of condensation on the glass. A few minutes later, they pulled into the parking lot of the crappy motel they were staying at, and they all got out of the car, Buffy leading the way to their room and unlocking the door before entering and dropping onto the bed.
"I'm doing a nationwide search," said Dean, dropping his brown leather jacket on the back of the chair and plopping down into it, pulling Sam's computer toward him and turning it on.
"Wait, you're doing a nationwide search?" Sam asked, falling flat on his back on the bed next to Buffy who rolled over onto her side and propped her head up with her hands.
"Yep," said Dean, the laptop's keys clicking softly beneath his fingertips. "The NCIC, the FBI database – at this point, any Mary who died in front of a mirror is good enough for me."
"But, if she's haunting the town," said Buffy hesitantly, her eyebrows furrowing in confusion, "she should've died here, right? Isn't that how it usually works?"
"Yeah, usually," said Sam, giving her an impressed look.
"Don't look at me like that," she said with a smile, sending a playful punch to his shoulder. She must have underestimated her strength, as he winced before rolling his eyes and grinning. Dean ignored them, wanting to get back to his point.
"I'm telling you, there's nothing local, I've checked." He was growing impatient, and his voice carried an underlying tone of annoyance. "So unless you got a better idea-..." Buffy gave him a look, and he sighed, taking a breath to calm himself. Sam waited until his brother looked like he wasn't going to rip off the head of the next person who spoke before continuing.
"The way Mary's choosing her victims, it seems like there's a pattern." Sam grabbed a handful of newspapers and flipping through them, but Buffy made no move to research, kicking off her shoes and curling up in a little ball next to Sam's head.
"I know," said Dean, much calmer than before. "I was thinking the same thing."
"With Mr. Shoemaker and Jill's hit and run..." Sam started, and something clicked in Buffy's brain.
"...they both had secrets where people died." Buffy finished, and Sam nodded.
"Exactly. I mean there's a lot of folklore about mirrors... that they reveal your lies, all your secrets, that they're a true reflection of your soul. Which is why it's bad lick to break them."
"Huh," came Buffy's eloquent, well-thought-out response, earning a raised eyebrow and an amused smile from Sam.
"Right, right," said Dean, once again ignoring Buffy and Sam's interaction, causing the Slayer to smile. If she didn't know better, she'd think he was jealous. "So maybe if you've got a secret, I mean like a really nasty one, where someone died, then Mary sees it and punishes you."
"Whether you summoned her or not," added Buffy, and Dean nodded before turning his attention back to Sam.
"Yeah, exactly." They continued to sit in silence for a few minutes, Dean and Sam researching and Buffy just chilling and watching them, until Dean waved his hand a few times to get their attention.
"Here, take a look at this." He haded a freshly printed picture, and Buffy cocked an eyebrow, not remembering ever having seen it before.
"Where'd you get that printer?" she asked, trying to keep the accusing tone out of her voice. But knowing Dean, he probably jacked it from somewhere.
"What? Nowhere!" he said and quickly moved on, causing Buffy to roll her eyes amusedly but let it go. There was no way she was going to get him to admit he stole it. Sam handed her a picture, and she saw that it showed a woman with long dark brown hair laying by a mirror in a puddle of blood. "This too," said Dean, handing Sam another picture. This one showed a familiar dripping hand print and the letters 'Tre.'
"Looks like the same hand print," Buffy observed, and Sam nodded in agreement.
"Her name was Mary Worthington... an unsolved murder in Fort Wayne, Indiana," offered Dean, shutting the laptop and turning off the printer. "We should go talk to the leading detective on her case."
"Yeah, alright, but we should get going now. It's getting dark." Sam replied, and Dean nodded, grabbing his jacket and pushing himself out of the chair.He dropped his own research to the bed and stood up, looking toward Buffy, silently asking her if she was going to come with.
"I'ma stay here," she supplied, shaking her head. "Wanna go out hunting. Haven't been in a while, and I need to get out some of this excess energy."
"Okay. Be careful," said Dean, stepping closer to her and giving her a kiss on the cheek, causing Buffy to cock an eyebrow. That was the first time he'd ever done that. Sam gave him a look as well, but quickly let it go and followed Dean to the door before stopping and turning around to face her.
"Call if you need us. We shouldn't be back that late."
"Yeah, alright," the blond agreed with a smile, watching as he turned and walked out, shutting the door behind him. Letting out an amused sigh and shaking her head, Buffy stripped off her t-shirt and walked over to her duffel bag, pulling out a simple black tank top. Slipping it on and her black leather jacket over it, she grabbed a few stakes and a room key, slipping them into her pocket before heading out the door. The night was quite uneventful, Buffy only finding a couple of stray vamps before stopping at the bar down the street for dinner and a couple of beers. She had never used to drink, having been put off of alcohol by her whole Cave Buffy experience, but since she had joined the boys in bar hopping almost every night, she had acquired a taste for it. A few hours later, she once again found herself at the door to her shared motel room and took out the key, effortlessly sliding it into the lock and pushing the door open. Absolutely exhausted and feeling the small amount of alcohol flowing through her body, she headed to the bathroom to brush her teeth and wash her face before stripping off her jeans and collapsing face down on the bed closest to the window, not even bothering to crawl under the covers. She was awakened an hour or so later by the sound of a key in the lock and opened her eyes to see Sam and Dean walking through the door, trying to be as quiet as possible so as not to wake her. Too late.
"Hey," she called, and the two jumped at her voice despite its quietness, not knowing that she was awake. Amused, she gave a small smile before sitting up and turning on the bedside lamp, uncaring about her half-clothed state. They had seen her like this many times before. Even less if she had a particularly bad wound that they had to clean and stitch up. Buffy watched them as the quickly recovered, Sam stripping off his coat, shoes, socks, and jeans before collapsing onto the unoccupied bed on the other side of the room, and Dean stripped down to his boxers, giving her a cocky grin when he noticed that her eyes were automatically drawn to his muscled chest. Realizing she was staring, she mentally shook her head before asking what they found out.
"A lot actually," answered Sam, looking quite pleased, as Dean walked into the bathroom, brushing his teeth before returning and nudging over so that she was on her side of the bed. "Detective said that someone broke into her apartment on the night of March 29th, murdered her, and cut her eyes out."
"Yikes," Buffy said, making a face and crawling under the covers, propping her head up with her hand so that she could see Sam over Dean's reclining figure.
"Yeah," Sam nodded. "Said that she spelled out the first three letters of her killer on the back of the mirror using her own blood. Like a clue for the cops to find. But it wasn't enough to prove who did it. No prints, no witnesses."
"She was cremated and the mirror was returned to her family," Dean supplied, bringing a hand up to lazily scratch at his chest, and once again Buffy's eyes were drawn to it, but she quickly looked away when he continued. "We're gonna go check it out in the morning."
"Yeah, okay," Buffy brought a hand to her mouth, stifling a yawn, and leaned back against her pillow, satisfied with what they learned. "Night, guys."
"Night, Buffy," the two chorused, and she quickly fell asleep to the sound of their combined breathing and the soft buzzing of the 'Vacancy' sign just outside their window.
Hearing a soft shuffling sound, Buffy cracked open an eye to see Sam, already dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, placing a hot cup of coffee next to her on the bedside table.
"Morning," she said, offering him a small smile. "Thanks for the coffee."
"Don't mention it," he gave her a curious look but quickly covered it with a smile and sitting down on his own bed. Wondering what the look was for, the blond started to swing her legs over the edge of the bed in an attempt to get up but was immediately blocked. Looking over her shoulder, she saw that Dean was once again curled up behind her, this time with one of his hands planted firmly on her hip and his legs tangled with hers. 'That's odd,' she thought to herself, furrowing her eyebrow in confusion. It was sort of inevitable that the would have end up in this position the previous night, but there was no reason for it this time. They both fell asleep on their own side of the bed, and Dean had never been a cuddly sleeper. Mentally shrugging, she gently lifted his arm and placed it on his chest before untangling her legs from his and slipping out from under the covers. Walking past Sam's bed, she could feel his eyes on her, knowing that he was wondering what was going on, but she decided to ignore him for the time being. Until she was sure what was happening.
"Dude, wake up," Sam called, which was quickly followed by a muffled "Gerroff me" as Dean tried to block out Sam's voice by pulling a pillow over his face. Smiling amusedly, she grabbed a change of clothes and entered the bathroom, effectively cutting off Dean's irritated yell of "Dammit, Sam, I'm up! Get off me!" Decidedly ignoring the thumps and indignant yells, an obvious sign of a scuffle, Buffy quickly showered and changed into a pair of green cargo pants and a clean t-shirt, emerging from the bathroom a few minutes later only to see Sam and Dean still caught up in their fight. Dean, who was still clad in only his black boxer-briefs, had his little brother in a headlock, but Sam quickly gained the upper hand by sending a swift kick to his knee and pinning Dean to the ground when he recoiled in pain. Leaning against the doorway, Buffy watched for a few moments, her hands on her hips and the corners of her mouth turned up in an amused smile, before glancing over at the clock on the nightstand that read eleven a.m.
"Whenever you guys are done with this macho showdown," Buffy started, a slight smirk evident in her voice, "we should probably get going if we want to find that mirror." The two stopped at looked at her from their awkward positions, both panting slightly. "We're wasting daylight, and we don't even know where it is." Dean took full advantage of Sam's distraction, flipping him onto his back and pinning him to the ground with his knee before ruffling his too-long hair and standing up.
"Whatever you say, princess." Giving her his patented grin, he gathered up a handful of clothes from his duffel bag and sauntered into the bathroom, leaving Buffy to watch Sam pull himself to his feet. A few minutes later, Dean walked back into the room, to find them staring awkwardly at each other and not talking. Cocking an eyebrow, he chose to ignore it and dumped his discarded clothes into the laundry bag, clapping his hands when he was done to get their attention. "Breakfast?"
"Yeah, sure," Buffy agreed, getting to her feet and following Dean out the door and to the Impala. Shaking her head at Sam's silent invitation to sit up front, she opened the back driver's door and slid onto the cool leather, shutting it with a creak and leaning back against the headrest as Dean started her up. As he pulled out onto the one-lane street, Sam took out his cell phone and punched in a number, informing them that he was going to call the family and see if they still had the mirror. Not really paying attention, Buffy stared aimlessly out the window, absently watching the trees and buildings fly by in a blur of colors.
"Oh really?" she heard Sam ask, and turned her attention to the front seat, wanting to know what he had learned. "Ah, that's too bad, Mr. Worthington. I would have paid a lot for that mirror."
'Damn,' she thought to herself, frowning slightly as Sam continued to talk to the man. 'No luck. Oh well, it was a long shot anyways.'
"Okay, well maybe next time." There was a pause as the voice on the other end said something. "Alright, thanks."
"Anything?" asked Dean as Sam put away his cellphone, earning a sigh and a shake of Sam's head.
"That was Mary's brother," he said, dropping the phone onto his lap and looking into the back seat where Buffy was staring at him intently with her head tilted to the side in curiosity. "The mirror was in the family for years. Until he sold it one week ago to a store called Estate Antiques. A store in Toledo."
"So..." said Buffy, furrowing her brow as she struggled to make the connection. "Mary's haunting this town 'cause her mirror's here?" Sam nodded.
"Her spirit's definitely tied up with it somehow."
"Isn't there an old superstition that says mirrors can capture spirits?" asked Dean, flicking on his left blinker and turning onto a near-empty street.
"Yeah, there is," Sam agreed, nodding once again. When someone would die in a house people would cover up the mirrors so the ghost wouldn't get trapped." Buffy watched silently from the back seat as Dean frowned in concentration, squinting slightly as a result of the sun shining through the windshield and right into his eyes.
"So Mary dies in front of a mirror, and it draws in her spirit."
"Yeah, but how could she move through like a hundred different mirrors?" asked Sam, earning a shrug from his brother.
"I don't know, but if the mirror is the source, I say we find it and smash it."
"That might not bet the best idea," Buffy piped in, causing Sam to turn around to look at her and Dean to glance at her through the rear view mirror. "What if smashing the thing releases her? We have no idea how to kill her, and I don't think it'll do us any good to have her walking around somewhere."
"Hm," muttered Sam thoughtfully, absently playing with the phone in his lap. "Maybe we-..." He was interrupted as the phone rang, and he quickly answered it, seeing that it was Charlie. "Hello?" A worried look appeared on his face, and Buffy could distinctly hear her, clearly hysterical, sobbing into the phone.
"She's after me!" the blond heard the other girl say, courtesy of her Slayer hearing. "Donna said it, and now she's coming after me! I saw her!"
"Gimme," Buffy ordered, and Sam quickly passed her the phone, swiveling around in the front seat to watch her. "Charlie? It's Buffy?"
"Oh God, Buffy! She's after me! I saw her in the window... In my teacher's glasses... I don't know what to do!"
"Alright, I want you to go outside." Her inner Slayer snapped into gear at the threat of an innocent, and she followed it's lead, quickly coming up with a game plan. "Somewhere you can't see your reflection in anything. Close your eyes. You're at school right?"
"Yeah."
"Go to the front of the school," Buffy told her, gesturing for Dean to turn the car around and drive to the school. "We'll be there as soon as we can. Don't talk to anyone and don't open your eyes. Do you understand?"
"Yeah, alright. Please hurry." With that, she hung up, and Buffy passed the phone to Sam before urging Dean to step on it. A few minutes later, they pulled up to the front of the school, and Buffy jumped out before they came to a stop, running over to a familiar blond figure who was sitting on a bench with her head in her knees. Rushing to her side, she placed a hand on the younger girl's shoulder, quickly snatching it back when the girl jumped and let out a surprised shriek.
"Charlie? It's Buffy." She didn't answer and continued to rock herself back and forth with her head in her hands. "We're going to take you somewhere safe, alright?" Charlie nodded without looking at her and allowed the older blond to take her by the arm and lead her over to the Impala where Sam and Dean were still seated. "Keep your eyes closed." Ducking the girl's head into the car, Buffy quickly ran around to the other side, getting in and allowing Charlie to lay her head on her lap, her eyes squeezed shut and her hands grasping the Slayer's arm with surprising strength. Giving Sam a worried look, she leaned her head against the window and closed her eyes as she stroked the other girl's long, blond hair comfortingly. In the blink of an eye, they were back at the hotel, and the boys got out of the car, Sam gently ushering Charlie out, and Dean running ahead to open the door to their room. Buffy got out of the car entered the room after them, sitting down on the bed next to the distraught Charlie and holding her head to her chest, gently running her hands down the other girl's back and making soft shushing sounds. Moving quickly around the room, Sam and Dean covered all of the potentially reflective surfaces with blankets and sheets before shutting the curtains and placing all of the mirrors face down.
"Hey, it's okay," Sam said gently, sitting down next to Charlie and putting a comforting hand on her back, his fingers interlacing with Buffy's. "You can open your eyes now." She shook her head in the crook of Buffy's neck, and the two hunters exchanged worried glances. "It's okay, I promise," he tried again, giving the girl a small smile when she shakily extracted herself from Buffy's embrace and looked over at him. "Now listen. You're gonna stay right here on this bed, and you're not gonna look at glass, or anything that has a reflection, okay?" Charlie nodded. "As long as you do that, she can't get you."
"But I can't keep that up forever," she said, looking over at Buffy. "I'm gonna die, aren't I?"
"No. Not anytime soon," Sam answered, but the blond didn't remove her eyes from Buffy's.
"Alright, Charlie," Dean started, sitting down on the bed next to Buffy. "We need to know what happened."
"We were in the bathroom..." she started, her voice barely above a whisper. "Donna said it."
"That's not what he's talking about," Buffy informed her gently, placing a hand on the girl's pack and moving it back and forth in a circular pattern. "Something happen, didn't it? Someone got hurt?" Charlie once again nodded but made no move to elaborate. "Can you tell us about it?" she prodded gently, watching as the girl looked down at her lap.
"I had this boyfriend. I loved him. But he kind of scared me too, you know?" She looked up into the older woman's eyes, and Buffy nodded, knowing exactly what she was talking about. Pretty much the definition of her relationship with Angel. "One night, at his house, we got in this fight. Then I broke up with him, and he got upset, and he said he needed me... and he loved me... and he said, 'Charlie, if you walk out that door right now, I'm gonna kill myself.'" Buffy's heart broke for the girl, speculating where this story was going. "And you know what I said? I said 'Go ahead.' And I left. How could I say that? How could I leave him like that? I just... I didn't believe him, you know? I should have." She once again dissolved into sobs, and Buffy drew her head into her lap, exchanging a look with the boys.
"Sweetheart," she said softly, her fingers threading through the other girl's hair. "It wasn't your fault. You couldn't have known."
"Yeah, Charlie," Sam said, his eyes glued to Buffy's, silently asking her what they should do now. "You can't blame yourself for what happened." The Slayer was impatient and gunning for a fight, and Buffy gently shifted Charlie's head onto Dean's lap and got up, pacing the room and absently playing with a loose piece of skin on her thumb.
"Alright, we need to end this as soon as possible," she said, mostly to herself, but she felt Sam and Dean's eyes snap over to her. "I say we go find the mirror and destroy it. Kill the bitch before she can kill anyone else."
"Well, hell, you know I'm in," answered Dean with a grin, causing Buffy to roll her eyes in amusement at his enthusiasm. However, Sam didn't appear as excited and glanced at Charlie's prone form before looking back at Buffy.
"What about Charlie?"
"She'll be fine here," she answered, continuing to pace the room. "It's going to take all of us to find Mary and to kill her." Walking back over to the bed, she dropped to her knees in front of Charlie, tipping her chin up and looking into her eyes. "Will you be alright here by yourself?"
"She can't get me, right?" Charlie asked. Her eyes were puffy and red from crying and her was voice extremely quiet. At the shake of Buffy's head, she nodded, sitting up and giving Dean a tearful smile. "Yeah, I'll be fine."
"You sure?"
"Yeah," she said, nodding again.
"Alright..." Buffy exchanged glances with Sam and Dean before standing up. "C'mon boys, lets go kill the big bad." Throwing one last glance over her shoulder at Charlie, Buffy threw on her black leather jacket before opening the door and walking out, stopping and waiting at the car for it to be unlocked. Getting into the back seat, she buckled her seat belt, watching as the boys got into the car and Dean started her up and drove toward the antique shop where Sam had said the mirror was being kept.
"You know, her boyfriend killing himself," Dean started, sparing a glance at a tall, read headed woman walking down the street before turning his attention toward his brother, "That's not really Charlie's fault."
"You know as well as I do that spirits don't exactly see shades of gray, Dean," Sam answered, giving Dean a look. "Charlie had a secret, someone died, that's enough for Mary."
"Yeah I guess..."
"I know, I've been thinking," said Sam, breaking the silence that had settled over the car as they let the previous revelation sink in. "Buffy might be right. It might not be enough to just smash that mirror."
"I agree," said Buffy, leaning forward in her seat so that her head was in between Sam and Dean's. "But what do we do?"
"She moves from mirror to mirror, right? So who's to say that she's not gonna just keep hiding in them forever? So maybe we should try to pin her down, you know, summon her to her mirror and then smash it."
"Huh..." Buffy said thoughtfully.
"How do you know that's going to work?" Dean asked at the same time.
"I don't, not for sure," said Sam with a sigh, seeing the flaw in his plan.
"Well, who's gonna summon her?" Dean pinned Sam with a look that said 'it'd better not be you."
However, Sam ignored him.
"I will. She'll come after me."
"You know what, that's it," growled Dean, swerving the car to the side of the road and causing Buffy to fall back in her seat. "This is about Jessica, isn't it? You think that's your dirty little secret, that you killed her somehow? Sam, this has got to stop, man!" Buffy looked on awkwardly, wondering if she should get out of the car and give the two some alone time. "I mean, the nightmares and calling her name out in the middle of the night. It's gonna kill you! Now listen to me. It wasn't your fault." She brought her hand to the handle and pushed the door open, but quickly shut it again when Dean's eyes snapped to her, telling her to stay where she was, before returning his attention to Sam and continuing his rant. "If you wanna blame something, then blame the thing that killed her. Or hell, why don't you take a swing at me? I mean I'm the one that dragged you away from her in the first place!" He was practically yelling now, and Buffy stiffened, not liking where this was going and the way that it was affecting Sam.
"Dean. Stop."
"I don't blame you," said Sam quietly, ignoring Buffy and continuing to stare unwaveringly into his brother's eyes.
"Well, you shouldn't blame yourself," Dean answered, his voice lowering to it's normal volume, and looked into the back seat, giving Buffy an apologetic look for blowing up. "Because there's nothing you could've done."
"I could have warned her," countered Sam, stubbornly holding onto the illusion that he could have done something.
"About what?" asked Dean, his temper flaring up once again at Sam's refusal to accept that Jessica's death wasn't his fault. "You didn't know what was gonna happen! And besides, all of this isn't a secret, I mean I know all about it. It's not gonna work with Mary anyway." He ripped his gaze from his brother's in an attempt to calm down. Buffy worried her bottom lip in between her teeth, wanting to interrupt and run interference but knowing that it was good for both of them to get their feelings out into the open.
"No," countered Sam, shaking his head. "You don't. You don't know all about it. I haven't told you everything."
"What are you talking about?" Dean snapped, looking back at Sam.
"Well, it wouldn't really be a secret if I told you, would it?" Dean seemed to ponder this for a second before vehemently shaking his head and flailing his arms around wildly.
"No," he insisted, pinning Sam with a 'you'll do what I say' look. "I don't like it. It's not gonna happen. Forget it!"
"Dean!" Sam practically yelled, clearly exasperated that they weren't getting anywhere. "That girl back there is going to die unless we do something about it! And you know what? Who knows how many more people are gonna die after that?" Dean was looking more and more uncomfortable with each passing second, staring straight ahead and gripping the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles turned white. "Now we're doing this. You've got to let me do this."
"Sam," he ground out through gritted teeth, but Buffy interrupted him before he could say anything else.
"Sam, you're not doing it." Two pairs of eyes snapped toward her, but she stood her ground. "I am. There is no way I'm gonna risk your life." The three were silent for a moment until Dean shook his head and threw his hands up in exasperation.
"What the hell is it with you two throwing yourself into the line of fire! Buffy, there's no way you're doing this. You could get killed!"
"At least she would be dead," she reasoned, watching as his frustrated expression turned to one of surprise. Since she came back, she found herself quicker to throw herself into the fight, no matter the consequences. It wasn't that she wanted to die; it was simply that she knew now, more than ever, that she, and everyone who fought for the the side of good, was disposable and had to go sometime. Today, tomorrow, a year from now, she would eventually die. And dammit, she was gonna go out fighting. Giving a shrug at Dean's look of surprise and Sam's look of concern, she steeled herself for the fight that was about to come.
"Buffy, there is no way I'm letting you do that," came Sam's soft, gentle voice at the same time Dean's annoyed one practically shouted. "No. No freaking way!"
"Guys," Buffy reasoned, pinning both of them with a look. "You know what I am. What my duty is. I'm going to die one day. Again. And you're going to have to let me. It's for the greater good." Apparently they didn't have anything to say to that. They knew that she was the Slayer, that she had died to save the world, that she would probably die again some time soon. But they were going to do everything in their power to keep her with them. Dean started to protest, but Buffy held up a hand to silence him before he could open his mouth.
"If you don't let me do this, I'm gonna knock you both unconscious and go without you. Either you can come with me and let me do it, or I'm gonna do it on my own without your help." There was a moment of silence as Dean continued to glare at her before conceding and nodding slowly. Sam simply sat there with a concerned look on his face that made Buffy unsure of whether she wanted to kiss him or punch him in the face.
"Alright," muttered Dean, his voice gruff with suppressed emotion. "We'll do it your way. But I don't like it."
"I know." Buffy smiled at him but didn't make any move to elaborate, and Dean turned back so that he was facing forward and started the car. Sam continued to stare at her for a few seconds before doing the same and staring out the front window. The rest of the drive was made in silence, and a few minutes later, they pulled up to a small, shabby-looking store and pulled around to the back, parking near the back entrance. "Alright boys, lets do this." Quickly getting out of the car and pulling her jacket closer to her to block out the wind that had shown up the second the sun went down, she walked over to the door, leaning against the wall and waiting for Sam to pick the lock. A few seconds later, she heard a soft click and shot Sam a smile for holding the door open for her before walking in and looking around, squinting slightly as her Slayer senses got used to the darkness. There was a collective groan from the three as they noticed that the shop was filled wall to wall with antique mirrors.
"Well... that's just... great," groaned Dean, pulling the picture of a dead Mary Worthington lying in front of the mirror out and passing it around. "Alright, lets start looking." Giving him a mock salute, Buffy split off from the boys and headed to the right, inspecting each mirror she saw in search for the right one. "Maybe they've already sold it," she heard Dean call, and she frowned, wondering what they would do if the owner had indeed sold it. Oh well, they'd cross that bridge when they came to it.
"I don't think so," Sam called back, and she craned her neck toward the back of the store to see him pointing his flashlight at a familiar-looking mirror. Abandoning her search, she walked over to him, stopping at his side and giving the mirror a once-over.
"Yahtzee," she said softly, earning an amused look from Dean when he came up next to her.
"That's it," he said, quickly comparing the mirror to the one in the picture before shoving the piece of crumpled paper into his jacket pocket. "Here." He haded Buffy a crow bar which she readily accepted, tightening her grip on it the second it touched her hands.
"You guys should go somewhere else. She might not come out when you're here."
"Like hell," Dean said, standing his ground, but quickly looked around toward the front of the shop and swore when a bright light shone through the front window, nearly blinding all three of them. "Crap. I'll go check that out. Stay here," he ordered, handing Sam his crossbar and flashlight. "Smash anything that moves." He took a few steps toward the front of the store before turning back and pinning Sam with a look. "Keep her safe." With that, he disappeared into the clutter of the small store, and Buffy turned back toward the mirror, taking a deep breath and tightening her grip on the metal she held in her hands.
"You sure about this," Sam whispered, his eyes trained on the mirror as well. "Because I can-..."
"No," she answered quickly, cutting him off before he could start to protest. "I'm sure." There was a pause as she took another deep breath. "Bloody Mary. Bloody Mary." She looked over at Sam to see him watching her, his jaw clenched and his knuckles almost white from his grip on the crowbar. "Bloody Mary." The tense silence was interrupted by a loud breath from neither Buffy or Sam, and the two spun around into a fighting stance, seeing nothing in the mirror behind them.
"There!" Sam yelled, and Buffy spun around, smashing the mirror to the right the second she saw a dirty, female figure with her hair over her face in it. Catching a quick movement out of the corner of her eye, she spun around and smashed the mirror to her left the second Mary disappeared from it.
"Smash all the other mirrors! Make her go into this one!" Buffy ordered, and together, she and Sam destroyed all of the surrounding mirrors, littering the ground with shattered glass and broken frames. "C'mon..." she muttered to herself, turning back to the intricately carved, gold mirror that Mary had killed herself in and staring into it. "C'mon..." All of a sudden, the look in the eyes of her reflection turned cold and the corners of its lips turned up into a smirk, no longer mimicking her features. All of a sudden, it felt like all of the air was sucked from her lungs, and she gasped for breath, dropping the crowbar in her hand to the floor and watching helplessly as a trickle of blood flowed from the inner corner of both of her eyes. Feeling as if her heart was to explode, she grabbed her chest before falling to the floor, still gasping for breath, her eyes glued her reflection in the mirror.
"Your duty, your destiny," mirror-Buffy spat at her. "It killed all those people. Ford, Harmony, Angel, your mother. So many others that you probably don't even remember. They were nothing to you. Just casualties of war. Your job is to save people! Not to kill them! How could you let them all die!? It was your job, your duty to protect them!"
"Sam," Buffy managed to gasp out, trying to block mirror-Buffy's voice from her head, to keep it from affecting her, to stop it from speaking her inner most fears, most guilty and painful moments of her life. "Smash it..." A second later, she was showered with glass that cut her face and arms, and the constricting feeling in her lungs and heart disappeared as quickly as it had started, leaving her panting and gasping on the floor. Sam grabbed her waist and dragged her back from the mirror, keeping his arms wrapped around her even when he tripped and collapsed onto the ground with Buffy in his lap.
"Buffy!" Dean called, dropping to his knees next to her and using his thumb to wipe at the blood dripping down her left cheek while Sam took the right. "Jesus, are you alright?"
"Yeah, I'm fine," she managed, still gasping slightly to catch her breath, and swatted their hands away from her face. "I'm fine. Is she dead?" Looking over toward the mirror, she groaned when she saw a hand grasping the frame and in the blind of an eye, Mary was climbing out of the broken mirror, much like the little girl from The Ring. It was even creepier in person. "Oh, crap." Sam and Dean stopped fussing over her cuts and scrapes and looked up into her face, following her gaze toward the dark figure which had almost clawed its way out of the mirror. Feeling the familiar tightening feeling in her chest and the blood dripping down her cheeks, Buffy looked around wildly, spotting a mirror that she and Sam hadn't managed to destroy. A light bulb went off in her head, she looked back at Mary, who was now walking toward them with her arms outstretched, before quickly making up her mind to move before she was completely incapacitated. Pushing herself off of Sam's now convulsing body as he tried to draw air into his lungs, she forced herself up onto her hands and knees and crawled over to it, grabbing it and flinging herself back over to the boys, holding the mirror in between them and Mary as a shield. Making sure that the woman could see her own reflection, Buffy watched weakly, her arms hardly able to hold up the heavy mirror, as Mary started choking, grasping at her throat desperately, before literally melting into a puddle of blood. Feeling the tightening in her chest lift, Buffy summoned all of her energy and threw the mirror across the room, where it crashed into the wall and shattered into a thousand pieces, before collapsing and allowing her head to lay limply on Sam's rapidly-moving chest.
"You guys alright?" came Dean's voice from where his head was buried in her lower back. When she and Sam didn't answer, he asked again, this time slightly worried. "Guys?"
"Yeah, we're fine," Sam answered around his gasps, giving Buffy's arm a small squeeze when she nodded her head into his stomach and made a weak groaning sound that seemed to satisfy Dean. The three continued to lay there for a few minutes, blood smearing their faces and the shattered glass digging through their clothes into their skin, before, as usual, Dean broke the silence with a witty remark.
"This has got to be like... what? Six-hundred years of bad luck?" Buffy groaned at his lame attempt at humor, feeling Sam's chest jerk as he chuckled, before pushing herself to her feet and helping a grinning Dean to his. Once he got up, Sam wrapped an arm around her waist, Dean doing the same, and the three staggered out of the back door and over to the Impala and got in, Buffy sitting in the back seat with her legs curled under her and her forehead leaning against the cool glass of the window. The drive back was made in silence, and the second they got back to the hotel room, they all collapsed onto one bed, as Charlie was fast asleep on the other, without even bothering to undress or clean themselves up. The next morning they got up with the sun, and started packing, Dean wanting to get out of town as soon as possible. Finishing packing her bag, Buffy nudged Charlie awake and ushered the still-half-asleep girl outside and into the back seat of the car. Dean and Sam joined them and a few minutes later, they were driving down the main road toward Charlie's.
"So this is really over?" Charlie asked her the second they pulled up in front of her house. It looked exactly like Donna's, but this one was painted a light blue color.
"Yeah, it's over," Buffy confirmed, nodding her head." You'll never have to worry about Mary again."
"Thank you," Charlie said sincerely, earning a smile from both Buffy and Dean.
"Charlie?" Sam said softly, causing her to look straight into his chocolate-brown eyes. "Your boyfriend's death. You should really try to forgive yourself. No matter what you did, you probably couldn't have stopped it. Sometimes bad things just happen." Charlie gave him a faint smile before shaking Dean and Sam's hands and giving Buffy one last look. Getting out of the door, she disappeared across the perfectly-manicured lawn and through the simple white door, leaving Buffy and the Winchesters staring after her.
"That's good advice," Dean said, gently hitting his little brother on the arm. Sam gave him a small smile, and the elder of the boys turned the key in the ignition, starting the car, and pulled away from the curb and onto the street. "Hey Sam?"
"Yeah?"
"Now that this is over," Dean started, keeping his eyes on the road and his hands planted firmly on the steering wheel, "I want you to tell me what that secret is." At Sam's pause, Buffy snapped her gaze out the window and attempted to zone out, sensing a brotherly-moment that she wasn't part of. However, Sam didn't seem to be in the mood to share, and she turned her attention back to the front seat at his next comment, watching warily as Dean's jaw clenched in annoyance but made no move to push him.
"Look... you're my brother," Sam said softly, looking over at a serene-looking Dean, "and I'd die for you, but there are some things I need to keep to myself." Giving a small nod, Dean detached his hand from the steering wheel and turned the music up so that Buffy could barely hear her own thoughts over the sound of Blue Oyster Cult blasting through the car. She ignored it the best that she could, having had lots of practice dealing with his ungodly loud music the last couple of weeks, and tilted her head to the side, watching as Sam continued to stare out the passenger-side window. Sighing slightly, she leaned back against the leather headrest and closed her eyes, wondering to herself where they were heading next.
--
Damn, that was a long chapter. TWENTY ONE PAGES. Oh well, I guess it was worth it 'cause I didn't want to split it up again. Again, sorry for the wait, but I hope you enjoyed it anyways! Drop me a review on your way out to tell me how you liked it and what episode you want me to cover next! )