Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or anything related to the series. I am just writing for fun and not for profit.

A/n: Episode 5, my lovelies. Enjoy!

Chapter 9: Bloody Mary

I looked up front of the impala worriedly as Sam started to make weird noises coming from his mouth. Dean also looked concerned for his brother at this state of mind. I wondered if they were about Jessica again.

"Sam, wake up!" Dean said.

Sam jumped, startled, and blinked wondering where he was until he realized he was just in the impala with Dean and me.

"I take it I was having a nightmare," Sam said.

"Yeah, another one," Dean nodded.

"Hey, at least I got some sleep," Sam said.

"You know, sooner or later we're gonna have to talk about this," Dean said. I couldn't have agreed more.

"Are we here?" Sam asked.

"Yup," Dean nodded, glancing at the building next to us.

"Yup," Dean said, glancing out his window. "Welcome to Toledo, Ohio."

Sam picked up a newspaper. I leaned forward to read the name of the obituary circled. Steven Shoemaker. "The Shoemaker family is sad to announce the sudden death of their beloved husband and father Steven Shoemaker," I read out loud. "Steven was forty-six. A short service will be held on Wednesday….31 at 2. PM at the Toledo Church…" I couldn't make out the other words on the paper but my eye didn't really focus on those words. Instead they focused on, "Cherish you, and your." I tightened my smile. "That's really sad."

"Yeah," Sam agreed. "So, what do you think really happened to this guy?"

"That's what we're gonna find out," Dean said. "Let's go." We got out of the car and walked up to the building. It was a morgue.

We walked down the aisle of the hospital and into the Morgue. We looked around the room at the two desks. There was an empty one with a nameplate named Dr. D. Felklowioz. And the other was the technician.

"Hey," he looked up.

"Hey," Dean greeted him.

"Can I help you?" The technician asked.

"Yeah. We're the, uh, med students," Dean said.

"Sorry?"

"Oh, Doctor-"

"Figlavitch didn't tell you?" Dean asked, not even getting the name right.

"Felk-low-ioz," I stage-whispered over to him.

Dean narrowed his eyes at me and I just kept quiet. He turned back to the technician. "We talked to him on the phone. He, uh, we're from Ohio State. He's supposed to show us the Shoemaker corpse. It's for our paper."

"Well, I'm sorry, he's at lunch," The technician said.

"Oh well he said, uh-oh, well, you know, it doesn't matter. You don't mind just showing us the body, do you?" Dean asked.

"Sorry, I can't," the technician shook his head. "Doc will be back in an hour. You can wait for him if you want."

"An hour? Ooh. We gotta be heading back to Columbus by then." Dean looked at Sam.'

Sam cleared his throat, "Yeah."

"Uh, look, man, this paper's like half our grade, so if you don't mind helping us out-"

"Uh, look, man…no," he flat out said.

Dean laughed and turned around to mumble to Sam and me, "I'm gpnna hit him in his face I swear."

"Violence is not the answer," I sing-songed.

"Coming from a ghost whose supposed to be violent and vengeful," he retorted at me. I just grinned at him. Sam smacked Dean on the arm and he stood in front of Dean, opening his wallet, pulling out some nice cash. He placed them in front of the technician on his desk. The guy picked up the money and eyed them curiously.

"Follow me,"

Dean grabbed Sam before Sam followed him. "Dude, I earned that money," Dean protested.

"You won it in a poker game," Sam chided him.

"Yeah!" Dean said.

Sam rolled his eyes at his brother. Dean looked at me for my help and I just held my hands in defense. "Oh come on, you saw that nice play!" Dean whispered to me as I followed Sam. I tried not to smile at Dean's skill of a poker player.

We walked further back into the room where the bodies were held in silver cabinets.

"Now the newspaper said his daughter found him," Sam said to the technician that had showed Sam the body of Mr. Shoemaker. "She said his eyes were bleeding."

"More than that," the technician nodded. "They practically liquefied."

"Any sign of a struggle?" Dean asked. "Maybe somebody did it to him?"

"Nope. Besides the daughter, he was all alone."

"What's the official cause of death?" Sam asked.

"Ah," the technician shrugged. "The Doc's not sure. He's thinking massive stroke, maybe an aneurysm? Something burst up in there, that's for sure."

"What do you mean?" Sam wondered.

"Intense cerebral bleeding," the technician replied. "This guy's had more blood in his skull than anyone I've ever seen."

"The eyes and mash what could cause something like that?" Sam looked from Steven's eyes to the technician questionably, while I listened, and looked onward to Mr. Shoemaker. He was so still. It was sad.

"Capillaries can burst. See a lot of bloodshot eyes with stroke victims," the technician explained.

"Yeah? You ever see exploding eyeballs?" Dean asked.

"That's a first for me, but hey, I'm not the doctor," the technician shrugged.

"Hey, think we could take a look at that police report? You know, for, uh, our paper?" Dean asked.

"I'm not really supposed to show you that," the technician shook his head, giving Dean a cautious look.

Fighting to roll his eyes out of pure annoyance, Sam pulled out his wallet. The technician smirked and caved, giving them everything they needed.

We walked down the stairs, heading outside of the hospital and morgue to the impala.

"Might not be one of ours," Sam said. "Might just be some freak medical thing."

"How many times in Dad's long and varied career has it actually been a freak medical thing and not some sign of an awful supernatural death?" Dean challenged.

"Uh, almost….never," Sam replied honestly.

"Exactly," Dean said.

"All right. Let's go talk to the daughter."

~*SPN*~

It felt weird to just walk right to the Shoemaker funeral. But yet here we were at the service. Smell of death in the air.

"Feel like we're underdressed," Dean whispered.

I looked at Sam and Dean and closed my mouth shut. Yeah. They weren't wearing black, while everyone else in the room was. We walked to the backyard, looking for Donna and Lily Shoemaker. They spoke to a man asking questions about them, and then he pointed toward them with two other girls. I guess they were friends.

"You must be Donna, right?" Dean asked.

"Yeah," Donna nodded.

"Hi, uh, we're really sorry," Sam said to the brunette.

"Thank you," Donna said.

"I'm Sam, this is Dean. We worked with your dad."

Donna glanced at her friend and then at Sam and Dean questionably.

"You did?"

"Yeah. This whole thing. I mean, a stroke." Dean replied.

"I don't think she really wants to talk about this right now," the blonde friend said, narrowing her eyes at him.

"It's okay," Donna assured her. "I'm okay."

"Were there any symptoms? Dizziness? Migraines?"

Donna shook her head. "No."

The blonde's friend turned around. "That's because it wasn't a stroke."

"Lily, don't say that." Donna said.

"What?" Sam asked.

"I'm sorry, she's just upset."

"No, it happened because of me," she insisted.

"Sweetie, it didn't," Donna shook her head.

"Lily," Sam pressed gently. He crouched down to her height.

"Why would you say something like that?"

"Right before he died, I said it," she said.

"You said what?" Sam asked.

"Bloody Mary, three times in the bathroom mirror," Lily said.

"Did she see her?" I asked out loud, wondering if anyone here could see me. Dean flicked his eyes at me curiously then at Lily.

"She took his eyes. That's what she does," Lily continued.

"That's not why Dad died," Donna assured her. "This isn't your fault."

"I think your sister's right, Lily. There's no way it could have been Bloody Mary. Your dad didn't say it, did he?"

"No, I don't think so," Lily said, still kind of scared.

~*SPN*~

We headed inside the bathroom to investigate the mirror. Sam opened the door, and looked down on the floor. Dark blood on the floor still remained.

"The Bloody Mary legend. Dad ever find any evidence that it was a real thing?" Sam asked.

"Not that I know of," Dean said next to me.

He walked further inside the bathroom. Sam leaned down to run his finger against the sticky blood.

"I mean, everywhere else all over the country, kids will play Bloody Mary, and as far as we know, nobody dies from it," Sam concluded.

"Yeah, well, maybe everywhere it's just a story, but here it's actually happening."

"The place where the legend began?" Sam asked.

Dean shrugged his shoulders, and peered into the medicine cabinet, looking for anything out of the ordinary.

"I was way too chicken to finish the actual Bloody Mary," I said. "Me and Katherine used to play it all the time when we were kids," I shuddered.

"Well, your instincts weren't wrong," Sam said.

"But according to the legend, the person who says B…" Sam stopped, and looked at the mirror, frozen. I listened to Sam curiously and my lips quirked up into a small smile. "The person who says you know what gets it. But here-"

"Shoemaker gets it instead, yeah," Dean finished.

"Right," Sam said.

"Never heard anything like that before. Still, the guy did tie right in front of the mirror, and the daughter's right. The way the legend goes, you know who scratches your eyes out."

"It's worth checking in to," Sam said.

We left the bathroom and walked into the hallway until we ran into a young girl, Lily's friend, I think.

"What are you doing up here?" She asked.

Dean and Sam looked at one another before Dean replied, "We…we had to go to the bathroom."

I cringed. "Smooth."

"Who are you?" She demanded, glancing between the two of them.

"Like we said downstairs, we worked with Donna's dad," Dean said.

"He was a day trader or something. He worked by himself," she said.

"No, I know, I meant-"

"And all those weird questions downstairs, what was that? So you tell me what's going on, or I start screaming."

"All right, all right," Sam said, calming her down. "We think something happened to Donna's dad."

She looked at him like he was crazy. "Yeah, a stroke."

"That's not a sign of a typical stroke. We think it might be something else," Sam said.

She looked scared. "Like what?"

"Honestly? We don't know yet. But we don't want it to happen to anyone else," Sam replied. "That's the truth."

"So, if your gonna scream, go right ahead," Dean said.

"Who are you, cops?" She asked, glancing between them.

"Something like that," Dean nodded.

"I'll tell you what. Here," Sam pulled out a piece of paper and pen out of his pocket. I peered at it as he wrote down his cell number. He handed it to her. "If you can think of anything, you or your friends notice anything strange, out of the ordinary, just give us a call."

~*SPN*~

We went into the library, pretty dark, not much light inside, but we had to find some information about the real Bloody Mary. I always thought she was a pure legend and that it was never true. Just a bedtime story to scare children off.

"All right, say Bloody Mary really is haunting this town. There's gonna be some sort of proof, like a local woman who died nasty," Dean rationalized.

"Yeah, but a legend this widespread, it's hard. I mean, there's like fifty versions of who she actually is," Sam reminded him. "One story says she's a witch, another says she's a mutilated bride-"

"Oh, I heard that one," I said. I think that was the one I grew up with now that I think about it.

Sam nodded at me and continued, "There's a lot more."

We entered a room with shelves full of books. I always loved the library. It was my favorite place to study.

"All right," Dean said slowly, thinking it through out loud. "So what are we supposed to be looking for?"

"Every version's got a few things in common. It's always a woman named Mary, and she always dies right in front of a mirror. So we've gotta search for local newspapers, public records as far back as they go. See if we can find a Mary who fits the bill," Sam explained.

"Well, that sounds annoying," Dean grumbled.

"No it won't be so bad, as long as we…" his eyes drooped over to a set of computers nearby, except they were unfortunately out of order. Sam let out a small chuckle. "I take it back. This will be very annoying."

"Can't you like possess it and get them to work?" Dean asked me.

"I don't know. I thought only very powerful ghosts could do that?" I asked.

"It'd be too risky, someone might see," Sam said, glancing around the library that a few patrons in it, plus we didn't want to get caught.

"Damn," Dean groaned.

"Sorry," I frowned.

~*SPN*~

We checked our items out of the library and went back to the motel.

It took us…well, Dean, awhile in search of research, piles of newspapers and books that he had spread out. I offered my help and try to find anything useful especially when Sam conked out on the bed. He needed the sleep anyway.

I couldn't help but look over at Sam who was fidgeting. I wondered if Sam was having another nightmare because he suddenly woke up in a jolting startle.

I quickly averted my eyes down to the newspaper in front of me.

Sam looked up and around us. "Why'd you let me fall asleep?"

Dean smirked at him. "Because I'm an awesome brother. So what did you dream about?"

"Lollipops and candy canes," Sam replied sarcastically.

"Yeah, sure," Dean snickered.

"Did you guys find anything?" Sam asked.

"Oh besides a whole new level of frustration?" Dean asked. Sam sat up fully in his seat. "Hippie and I'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 fell back onto the bed with a plop. "Maybe we just haven't found it yet."

"I've also been searching for strange deaths in the area, you know, eyeball bleeding, that sort of thing. There's nothing. Whatever's happening here, maybe it just ain't Mary," Dean shrugged.

"I don't know, something feels off about this," I said, shaking my head.

"Like what?" Dean asked me. "There's nothing. We both checked."

I frowned. Yeah, we did.

Sam's phone suddenly decided to ring at that moment. He picked it up and placed it to his ear, sitting up. "Hello?"

~*SPN*~

We met up with Charlie at a nearby park, where she sat on a bench, looking quite forlorn and sad like something had happened. And something did happen. Jill just died.

"And they found her on the bathroom floor," Charlie explained in near tears. "And her…her eyes….they were gone."

"I'm sorry," Sam sympathized.

"And she said it," Charlie said. Dean glanced at Sam and me; we were standing in front of her. "I heard her say it. But it couldn't be because of that. I'm insane, right?" She looked questionably at Sam and Dean.

"No, you're not insane," Dean assured her.

"Oh God, that makes me feel so much worse," she whispered.

"Look. We think something's happening here. Something that can't be explained," Sam said tentatively.

"And we're gonna stop it, but we could use your help."

She looked up at them worriedly.

~*SPN*~

Charlie took us to Jill's place to the scene of the crime. But Charlie walked into Jill's room by herself, and then locked the door behind her. She walked over to the window, opened it, where Sam, Dean, and I were standing. Sam climbed through the window first, and then Dean tossed him their duffel bag. Sam placed it on the bed. I'd followed Charlie into the bedroom and met them there. Another easy ghost thing that I could do, and didn't have to worry about getting caught by an adult of which I'm sure they'd never seen a ghost before. Donna had no signs of it, since she focused on Sam and Dean at the funeral and Lily of course. So, I was scot-free as far as I was concerned.

"What did you tell Jill's mom?" Sam asked as he started to go through the duffel bag, while Dean climbed through the window.

"Just that I needed some time alone with Jill's pictures and things," she replied. Dean closed the curtains. "I hate lying to her."

"Trust us, this is for the greater good. Hit the lights," Dean said.

She walked over, nearly bumping into me, or going through me if you want to call it that, and turned off the lights. "What are you looking for?"

"We'll let you know as soon as we find it," Dean said.

Sam had pulled out a digital camera, getting it ready, and handed it to Dean. "Hey, night vision," Sam reminded him. Dean turned it on. "Perfect."

"I always love the interesting devices you ghost hunters have to try and find ghosts," I said with a smirk, watching in awe.

Sam raised the camera in front of him, and pretended he was taking a picture at Dean.

Dean stroke a pose. "Do I look like Paris Hilton?"

"Yes," I said, nodding at him. "Like her twin or something."

Dean chuckled at me. Sam shook his head and walked away with the camera in his hand. He opened Jill's closet and started to film around the mirror, trying to pick up some evidence.

"So, I don't get it," Sam began. "I mean, the first victim didn't summon Mary, and the second victim did. How's she choosing them?"

"Beats me," Dean shrugged. Sam closed the door.

"I want to know why Jill said it in the first place," Dean said, eyeing Charlie accusingly.

Charlie shrugged, shaking her head. "It's just a joke."

"Yeah well, somebody's gonna say it again, it's just a matter of time," Dean said.

I followed Sam into the bathroom who stopped a bit, narrowing his eyes around the mirror. There was something behind the mirror.

"Hey," Sam called out to Dean. Dean and Charlie looked at him curiously. "There's a black light in the trunk, right?"

"What are you thinking?" I asked him.

"There's something behind this mirror. May be a message," Sam said. He started to pick up the mirror and take it down, while Dean went to get the black light out of the trunk of the impala. I walked back into the bedroom to stand beside Charlie, who shivered at my presence. She hugged herself for warmth.

Dean returned not a moment later and tossed the black light up and climbed back inside. He threw the black light to Sam. Sam tore off the brown paper that was on the back of the mirror and shined the black light over it. A handprint and the name Gary Bryman were highlighted.

"Gary Bryman?" Charlie asked.

Sam turned to look at her questionably. "You know who that is?"

"No," she shook her head.

~*SPN*~

We were back on the bench, not wanting to get caught by Jill's mother any time soon. Sam went to go find out more information on who Gary was. I paced back and forth quietly until Sam finally came back.

"So, Gary Bryman was an eight-year-old boy. Two years ago he was killed in a hit and run. The car was described as a black Toyota Camry. But nobody got the plates or saw the driver."

"Oh my God," Charlie said in sudden realization.

"What?" Sam asked.

"Jill drove that car," Charlie said in shock.

"We need to get back to your friend Donna's house," Dean said.

~*SPN*~

Sam and Dean were looking at the mirror inside Donna's house. They had the black light over it. There was another handprint and another name: Linda Shoemaker. Now, there was a pattern, I realized.

"Linda Shoemaker," Sam said, flicking his eyes up at Dean and me as we studied the handprint.

Sam and Dean put the mirror back before they headed downstairs and asked to talk to Donna. Donna came out of the kitchen to talk with Sam and Dean, but she had utterly no clue what the investigation was truly about.

"Why are you asking me this?" She asked worriedly.

"Look, we're sorry, but it's important," Sam said.

"Yeah. Linda's my mom okay? She overdosed on sleeping pills, it was an accident, and that's it. I think you should leave," she insisted.

"Now, Donna, just listen-" Dean began but her eyes flared up in anger.

"Get out of my house!" She said and ran upstairs, leaving us stumped.

"Oh my God," Charlie said, coming up to us. "Do you really think her dad could've killed her mom?"

"Maybe," Sam said solemnly. I didn't like the idea more than he did.

"I think I should stick around," Charlie said, looking up at the stairs, worried for Donna.

"All right," Dean said. "Whatever you do, don't-"

"Believe me. I won't say it," she said.

~*SPN*~

I watched Dean type something into the computer that must have caught Sam's eye, tearing his eyes off of the local bulletin news board.

"Wait, wait, wait, you're doing a nationwide search?" Sam asked.

"Is that bad?" I wondered out loud.

Sam tilted his head to the side at me with a small shrug of his shoulders.

"Yep," Dean replied. "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, she should have died in the town," Sam said as a matter of fact.

"I'm telling you there's nothing local, I've checked. So unless you have a better idea…" Dean trailed off.

"The way Mary's choosing her victims," Sam said in addition. "IT seems there's a pattern."

"I know, I was thinking the same thing."

"With Mister Shoemaker and Jill's hit and run," Sam said.

"Both had secrets where people died," Dean said.

"Right. I mean there's a lot of folklore about mirrors that they reveal all your lies, all your secrets, that they're a true reflection of your soul, which is why it's bad luck to break them," Sam said.

"Huh, I never knew that," I said.

Dean turned to Sam. "Right. Right. 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 for it."

"Whether you're the one that summoned her or not," Sam realized.

"Take a look at this," Dean said. Sam looked over his shoulder as Dean printed out more pictures he'd found of the victim laying by a mirror in her blood. He printed out a couple more and handed them to Sam.

"Tre?" I asked.

"Looks like the same handprint," Sam said.

"Her name was Mary Worthington, an unsolved murder in Fort Wayne, Indiana," Dean read.

"Is that our next stop?" I asked.

Sam and Dean looked at each other and nodded. Thought so.

~*SPN*~

Fort Wayne, Indiana.

We were in the town's police station talking to one of the detectives who might have any information on the Mary Worthington case.

"I was on the job for thirty-five years, detective for most of that," he said to the boys. "Now everybody packs it in with a few loose ends, but the Mary Worthington murder…that one still gets me."

"What exactly happened?" Dean asked the detective. He was a kind gentleman. I could tell just by his presence. But with those old eyes, I could also tell that he had seen a lot, and probably bore a lot of wisdom too.

"You boys said you were reporters?" He asked.

"We know Mary was nineteen, lived by herself. We know she won a few local beauty contests, dreamt of getting out of Indiana, being an actress. And we know the night of March 29th someone broke into her apartment and murdered her, cut her eyes out with a knife," Sam said.

"That's right," the detective nodded.

"See sir, when we asked you what happened, we wanted know what you think happened," Sam continued.

He turned to a pile of papers on a cabinet near his desk.

"Technically I'm not supposed to have a copy of this," he opened up the file and showed Sam and Dean what they found on the computer. "Now see that there?" He pointed to three letters. "T-R-E?"

"Yeah," Dean said, looking at them curiously.

"I think Mary was trying to spell out the name of her killer," the detective explained.

Oh, I thought interestingly. Thank you, Mary.

"You know who it was?" Sam asked.

"Not for sure," the detective shook his head. "But there was a local man, a surgeon…Trevor Sampson," he pulled out another picture of him to show us. "And I think he cut her up for good."

"It's always either the cute or the rich ones," I muttered, glancing at the photo of the surgeon.

"Now why would he do something like that?" Sam asked.

"Her diary mentioned a man that she was seeing. She called him by his initial. T. Well, her last entry, she was gonna tell T's wife about their affair," the detective said.

My jaw completely dropped. Wow. Did not see that coming at all.

Dean saw my look and shook his head. "Yeah, but how do you know it was Sampson who killed her?"

"It's hard to say, but the way her eyes were cut out…it was almost professional," he said.

"But you could never prove it?" Dean asked.

"No. No prints, no witnesses. He was meticulous."

"There's got to be some DNA around," I said quietly, glancing at Sam as we listened to him. He seemed spooked by the old case.

"Is he still alive?" Dean asked.

"Nope," he sat down at his desk, letting out a tired sigh. "If you ask me, Mary spent her last living moments trying to expose this guy's secret. But she never could."

"Where's she buried?" Sam asked.

"She wasn't. She was cremated," the detective replied.

"What about that mirror?" Dean nodded toward the one in the picture. "It's not in some evidence lockup somewhere is it?"

"Ah, no," he said to Dean. "It was returned to Mary's family a long time ago."

"You have the names of her family by any chance?" Sam asked.

The detective nodded. He was kind enough to give us the names for her family. We headed out of the police station and back inside the impala.

I was exactly like Bloody Mary. I'd spent my last moments on Earth trying to talk to Katherine, and talk to her about what happened between me and Jason and how I should tell the dean and the school board that my whole academic career was based on a lie. I knew I should've done more. I thought I'd gotten in. I thought I was smart enough to get into Stanford. Katherine told me that it'd been my college essay that got me in. Sure, my writing was good, but it wasn't great, and my SAT scores, test scores were always crap. I thought it was a stroke of luck to be honest. I thought I was lucky. But I guess not. I was trying to tell Katherine my secret feelings for Jason. I was going to tell her that the kiss was a mistake. And that I didn't want Jason. I mean, I kind of did, but he was always hers, and I didn't want to get in between that. I'd find someone else. Like always. It was fine. I just don't understand my feelings sometimes. They were weird.

"You okay?" Sam asked me, as I'd been quiet the whole time we walked toward the impala.

This case was just a bitter reminder that I couldn't move on. That I couldn't be normal like everyone else.

"Let's just find the damn mirror and get this over with," I said, anger seeping from my lips. I closed my eyes in realization that the anger was still present within me. I tried so hard to shove it down and bury it. I wanted to prove Dean wrong that I wasn't like every vengeful ghost he ever encountered and I wouldn't turn violent because of some unfinished business. And I was going to do exactly that, and keep calm.

~*SPN*~

"Oh really? Ah, that's too bad, Mr. Worthington. I would have paid a lot for that mirror," Sam said over the phone. "Okay, well maybe next time. All right, thanks," Sam hung up.

"So?" Dean asked, driving the impala down the road. I tore my eyes away from the window back up to the front seat of the car, watching the world from my eyes as if I was on the outside of a snow globe. I may as well be that fish in a fishbowl.

"So that was Mary's brother," Sam said. "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 wherever the mirror goes, that's where Mary goes?" Dean asked.

I perked up a bit at that tid-bit information.

"Her spirit's definitely tied up with it somehow," Sam nodded.

"Isn't there an old superstition that says mirrors can capture spirits?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, there is," Sam replied. "Yeah, when someone would die in a house, people would cover up the mirrors so the ghost wouldn't get trapped."

"Heh, I think my family did that for me," I said.

Sam glanced at me sending me a quirky look. "She covered the mirror in Kat and mine's bedroom," I said. Dean also gave me a look. "I swear we're not hunters. My family just knows things. End of the world preppers," I said. "Five AM drills, the whole nine. My dad literally built a bomb shelter when I was nine. So…you know, it's no forty-five, but it's something all right."

"Of course," Dean said to me and I shrugged. "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?" Sam asked.

"I don't know, but if the mirror is the source. I say we find it and smash it," Dean said.

"Agreed," I said.

"Yeah," Sam flicked his eyes to mine then to Dean. "I don't know, maybe." His cell phone rang throughout the car. He answered it, "Hello? Charlie?"

Uh-oh….

~*SPN*~

"So, you're a good ghost?" She asked tentatively, looking at me with her knees drawn in front of her on her bed. She was trying to look anywhere but the mirrors. I hoped to provide that healthy distraction.

"Yeah," I said. So she caught the spirit of Mary in between dark tinted windows and her teacher's glasses at school. That would have freaked me out too.

"You…you won't kill me?" She stuttered.

I shook my head. "Nope. Not the killing kind. I got stuck here by accident."

"Oh," Charlie said, and then her eyes drooped to my shirt. "Did someone shoot you?"

I looked down at the small hole in my shirt when Dean shot me for the first time he saw me. I waved a hand at her. "It was an accident, really. Honestly? My story's similar to this one. Didn't realize it at the time…but I spent my last days trying to get my best friend to understand me. I wanted to be real with her I guess. She was just…she was too afraid. She had a whole future ahead of her. We all did…mine got cut short."

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

I shook my head, watching the boys cover up all the mirrors with sheets, and close the curtains to hide the light. They turned the room upside down.

"Don't be," I assured her. "It was my fault."

"I'm not sure how you died is your fault," she said.

Heh. If I'd just kept my mouth shut, I'd probably still be alive. I just gave her a small smile.

"Oh, trust me, it is," I said, suddenly flickering in and out, static-y.

She started shaking, and buried her head over her knees.

"Sorry….uh," I looked over at the boys for help when she started shaking and freaking out. She snapped her eyes shut. Sam rushed over to her and sat beside her gently to calm her down.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," Sam said. "Hey, you can open up your eyes Charlie. It's okay. All right?"

I walked over to the edge of the bed and sat down, placing my hands on my knees tentatively.

"Now listen. You're gonna stay right here on this bed, and you're not gonna look at glass, or anything else that has a reflection, okay? And as long as you do that, she cannot get you," Sam explained to her calmly.

"But I can't keep that up forever. I'm gonna die, aren't I?" She had a panicked look on her face and I felt for her. I flicked my eyes over to Sam worriedly.

"No. No. Not anytime soon," Sam assured her.

"All right Charlie," Dean said, sitting beside me. "We need to know what happened."

Charlie drew in a deep breath, hugging her knees before she spoke to us. "We were in the bathroom. Donna said it."

"That's not what we're talking about. Something happened, didn't it? In your life, a secret, where someone got hurt. Can you tell us about it?" Dean asked.

"I had this boyfriend. I loved him. But he kind of scared me too, you know? And 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," she explained tearfully. I widened my eyes at that. Geeze…

"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 buried her face within her knees and tears fell freely from her eyes.

~*SPN*~

"I really think you should've stayed with her," Sam said back in the car. It was raining outside. I didn't feel it. It just went straight through me.

"I offered to stay, she didn't want me to stay. I think Blood…I think the ghost thing trying to kill her at school already freaked her out, I mean I don't blame her," I shrugged.

"What if you get trapped in a mirror?" Dean asked.

"I won't get trapped in a mirror," I said. "I'll be fine. If she comes, I'll try and stop her."

Dean flicked his eyes toward the rear view mirror, and I looked up at him before it became awkwardly silent again.

"You know her boyfriend killing himself, that's not really Charlie's fault," Dean said after awhile, breaking the wall of silence.

"You know as well as I do spirits don't exactly see shades of gray, Dean," Sam inhaled and looked to me. "No offense, Melinda."

"None taken," I said.

"Charlie had a secret," Sam continued. "Someone died. That's not good enough for Mary."

I listened to what Sam had to say and felt stricken by that.

"I guess," Dean shrugged.

"You know, I've been thinking. It might not be enough to just smash that mirror," Sam added.

"Why, what do you mean?" Dean asked, furrowing his brows together in thought.

"Well, Mary's hard to pin down, right? I mean she moves around from mirror to mirror so who's to say that she's not just gonna 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."

"Well how do you know that's going to work?" Dean asked.

"I don't know for sure," Sam shook his head.

"Well, who's gonna summon her?"

"I ca-" I said but Sam cut me off, with a silent glare.

"I will. She'll come after me."

Dean glared at his brother. "You know what, that's it," he suddenly swerved the car over the road, halting abruptly. I widened my eyes at him. "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. 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.. 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," Dean said.

"I don't blame you," Sam said.

"Or me," I said quietly. "I can take another iron poker hit."

"I don't blame either of you," Sam said sharply.

"But Sam, you gave me one job to do and I blew it," I said.

Sam turned around and faced me. I looked at him squarely in his almond shaped eyes.

"I don't. Blame. You," he sounded out. "Okay? You just got caught in the crossfire that's all. I shouldn't have asked you to do that. I mean you were just a lowly spirit back then, you couldn't have done anything to help her."

I guess that was true.

Dean eyed his brother up and down and broke the silence again. "Well, you shouldn't blame yourself, because there's nothing you could've done either."

Sam turned around and glanced at him. "I could've warned her."

"About what? 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."

"No you don't," Sam said.

"I don't what?" Dean asked.

Sam shook his head. "You don't know all about it. I haven't told you everything."

"What are you talking about?" Dean asked.

"Well, it wouldn't really be a secret if I told you, would it?" Sam smirked.

Dean blinked in surprise. "No. I don't like it. It's not gonna happen, forget it."

"Dean that girl back there is going to die unless we do something about it," Sam said. "And you know what? Who knows how many more people are gonna die after that? Now, we're doing this. You've got to let me do this."

I pressed my lips to the side, watching worriedly, feeling my anger boiling inside.

~*SPN*~

We made it to the shop, locked of course. Sam was picking the lock on the door. He jiggled the door handle till he finally pushed it open. As the door opened, we looked around and saw the billion mirrors around inside the shop. I looked at them with dread. Just the kind of luck we were having today.

"Well, that's just great," Dean announced. He pulled out a picture of Mary's body beside the mirror from his jacket pocket. "All right, let's start looking."

I found myself walking with Sam as we started to search for the mirror. Each mirror looked the same from afar but when you walked up closer to them, you could see that the frames were differently designed. None of which looked like the mirror in Dean's picture.

"Maybe they've already sold it," Dean said behind us.

Sam had gotten his flashlight out and stopped on one mirror in front of us. "I don't think so."

Dean walked closer to the mirror, pulling out the picture again. He looked at it and then the frame. It matched. "That's it," he sighed, and glanced at Sam. I looked at him warily also. "You sure about this?" Sam handed Dean the flashlight and without another word, he looked straight into the mirror and said with a sigh of his own, "Bloody Mary, Bloody Mary, Bloody Mary."

We waited and looked around the shop. I didn't see any fast movements at all or sense any evil just yet.

"Maybe she's moved on already," I contemplated. "Lucky bitch."

Sam scoffed, "Doubtful."

A light suddenly peered in another part of the store, catching Dean's eye. We turned to see what it was. "I'll go check that out. Stay here, be careful." Dean said, going to investigate. Sam gripped tight onto his crowbar. "Smash anything that moves." He said.

"Except me, please," I said, stepping back a little ways from the crowbar in Sam's hand.

"Except her," Dean whispered, jogging away from us. Sam and I looked at one another and Sam tightened his fingers around the crowbar, letting out a sigh, but then stopped. He turned toward a breath, not made by me. He walked toward another mirror and stopped cold when he saw Mary inside of it. I stepped back, afraid. Did she see me too? I saw her. It would make sense Mary would see me too.

Mary swooshed out of that mirror and into another one. Sam tightened his crowbar in his fingers, knuckles burning white.

He spotted her in one and then smashed the mirror with the crowbar. I jumped back as the glass shards flew everywhere. She jumped into another one. "There!" I pointed and Sam raised the crowbar and smashed it. More shards flying everywhere.

He faced Mary's mirror again, gritting his teeth together. "Come on, come into this one!"

"It's your fault," Sam's own reflection said suddenly. Sam tilted his head to the side to look at his own reflection. It was dark as if his eyes were bleeding.

"Sam!" I cried out, alarmed. Mary had taken a hold of him.

He clutched at his heart, dropping the crowbar on the ground with a loud clink sound to my ears. I looked down at it and panicked. I looked back up at the mirror, eyes wandering in different directions. I looked over at the other room where Dean was. Where the hell was Dean?!

"You killed Jessica," it said.

"You never told her the truth…who you really were. Melinda here tried to get you to open up to her, but you didn't listen to her. You just thought of her as another job," it continued, watching Sam fall to the ground, struggling to breathe.

"STOP!" I yelled at Mary.

"But it's more than that isn't it?" It asked, tauntingly. "Melinda was right all along. Those nightmares of Jessica dying, screaming, burning! You had them for days before she died! Didn't you?"

"All right, bitch," I sneered angrily and with all my might I ran to the mirror and got inside hearing Sam's cry out, "NO!" But I got into the mirror.

I tackled Mary, trying to get her to stop, but she continued as she shoved me down.

"You were so desperate to ignore them, to believe they were just dreams. How could you ignore them like that? How could you leave her alone to die?! You dreamt it would happen!"

I got up and reached up to strangle her neck just in time for Dean to raise his crowbar and smash it.

"Sam! Sammy!" Dean rushed over to his brother, and knelt beside him on the ground, helping him up.

"It's Sam," he grounded out.

Dean looked over at his brother as he noticed the dried blood that had rolled down on Sam's cheeks. "God, are you okay?"

"Uh, yeah," Sam groaned as Dean helped him up. "Where's Melinda?"

"I'm here," I said, flickering back in the shop, glancing at Sam's smashed mirrors, including Dean's.

"Thanks," he said.

I shrugged, offering him a small smile. "What friendly ghosts are for?"

Sam laughed heartedly, cringing though as he stood on his own two feet, leaning against Dean for support.

"She got away though. Not sure which mirror she's in. I couldn't track her down. Damn woman's fast," I said.

"Years of practice," Dean reminded me. "Come on, come on," he ushered Sam's arm over his neck. We were about to walk out, until all of a sudden Mary started to crawl out of the frame and onto broken glass, crunching behind us. I slowly turned around and stared down at her dark form. Creepy.

I got in front of the boys, protecting them but then suddenly dropped to the ground with Sam and Dean. But how? I was just a ghost. I couldn't die again… unless it was…

"You killed them! All of those people! You killed them!" she screamed at Dean. "And you, you WANTED them to die!" She rasped at me. I looked down at the black goo falling out of my eyes, shaking. It stuck to my fingers as I flickered in and out.

Dean had managed to reach for a mirror and shined it towards Mary, glancing at her own reflection.

She looked at the mirror and then started to choke. I watched her explode into dark muck and blood. The black goo stopped falling out of my eyes and the boys themselves stopped choking after Mary disappeared. Her evil presence was no longer in the room with us. The black goo disappeared as soon as she did.

"Hey Sam?" Dean asked.

"Yeah?" Sam looked over at him.

"That's gotta be like six hundred years of bad luck right?"

Sam let out a hearty chuckle.

I smiled a bit. "Fourteen if we're lucky?"

A little bit later, Sam was smooching his way with the cops, trying his best to explain to the detectives who'd suddenly woken up when we tried to leave. I went back to the broken mirrors and stared at them, lost in my own thought.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Dean came up to me.

"You said that my thoughts might not last longer right?" I asked. "And that it was only a matter of time before I become violent?"

Dean nodded slowly. "Yeah. That's usually how it works. Why?"

"You heard what she said…how I wanted them to die," I said softly. I looked up at him soulfully. His face softened at me, his hard lines disappearing. "What if that's true? What if I really did want Katherine and Jessica to die?"

"That's not true," he said, shaking his head.

"But what if it is? I haven't been able to forgive myself for attacking Jason that night. And I still can't forgive myself for the way that thing came after Jessica like she was a piece of meat, a-and failing to save her, to get trapped in some mirror veil thing, preventing me to save her! And….Mary knowing my secrets….my darkest secret...Dean you should kill me now," I whispered, almost in desperate plead. "Kill me before it's too late, and I try to kill you or Sam or worse, someone else…"

"Hey, hey you didn't kill Jessica. You didn't kill Katherine. We're allowed to have bad days, bad moments in our lives…" Dean said.

"I liked her, Dean. I really did. She was sweet and kind. And she was good for Sam. Just like Katherine was good for Jason. Why can't I be like them? Why am I jealous of other people?"

"I think it's something you have to work out, kiddo," Dean said gently to me. I nodded. "Don't let the darkness defeat you. Don't fall into that hole. That's what it wants. It wants to corrupt you, make you bitter, violent, vengeful. It was just one thought. Sometimes a positive thought is what it takes to make it go away."

I nodded, trying to hang onto those very human-like words.

"Truth be told, I am amazed that you've made it this far," he said.

"So am I," I said. I paused before I turned to him, "Can you do me a favor?"

"I'll put a bullet in you before you turn really vengeful, I promise," he nodded at me.

I shook my head. "Can you please not tell Sam? I'll tell him...just not now." I couldn't do it. I didn't want him to hate me forever.

"Tell me what?" Sam asked, coming over toward us.

Dean glanced at me and then at Sam. "Nothing. We cool, man?"

"Yeah, we're good to go," Sam nodded at us.

I smiled gratefully for Dean and he gave me a curt nod before we followed Sam the heck out of there.

~*SPN*~

We'd picked up Charlie to let her know that the whole ordeal was over with. She was sitting next to me in the car, this time not as freaked as much, well sort of. She kept glancing at me every now and then and I tried to smile. But I think I just made it more awkward. We pulled over to her house.

"So, it's really over?" She asked tentatively.

Dean nodded at her. "Yeah, it's over."

"Thank you," she said. He shook her hand and she got out of the car. I slid back in my designated seat.

"Charlie?" Sam called out to her. She turned around to face him. "Your boyfriend's death…you really should try to forgive yourself. No matter what you did, you probably couldn't have stopped it," he said.

"Sometimes bad things just happen."

Charlie smiled a bit at her before she headed back to the house. I watched her walk inside, leaving us be. Well, I'm glad this case was over. It was a bit heavy.

Dean hit Sam on the shoulder, getting his attention. "That's good advice." He said and then merged into the road, driving down it for a bit. "Hey Sam?"

"Yeah?" Sam turned to him.

"Now that this is all over," Dean said. "I want you to tell me what that secret is."

Sam blinked at him and then looked at me before he replied, "Look, you're my brother, and I'd die for you, but there are some things I need to keep to myself," he said. He looked out the window and spotted her. I looked over at her too, doing a double take because I was sure I was seeing things, but there she was…Jessica, standing there, looking at us in a white dress. I mouthed an 'I'm sorry' to her and when Dean turned the corner, she was gone in a flash. I never sunk lower in my seat than just now.

~*SPN*~

A/n: Such a spooky episode! Not sure how I feel about this one, but hopefully it was okay. I do like the Melinda and Dean moment that I added in there. :) Hope it was okay! Thank you all so much for the follows, reads, favorites, and reviews, as they are always welcomed and loved! More updates soon!