A/N: Hi, all! Thank you, Rachet, for your review! I was hoping for a stronger turn out, considering it was Dean and Chloe all over the place. LOL. But, hey, it is what it is. Anyway! I have not forgotten this fic, I am so sorry it's taken this long to post, but I've been cross-posting this fic in a couple of other places (notably, my LJ) so I wanted them caught up before I started posting this next chapter. Why? Because, since has been more vocally enforcing the M rating, I've had to do some edits to the beginning of this chapter and pulled three-quarters of the dream sequence to make the rating stick. SO, if you'd like to read the full version (which I suggest you do :) ) please check out my LJ at RobnzGrlWonder, where you can read this fic in its entirety without any editing for content, fun icons and a music note on every chapter, if you'd like to listen to what would pretty much be my Mirrors and Dread playlist. But, most notably, if you want the full version of this chapter in MA rating, go to my LJ. Anyway! Please enjoy, I hope you do! Read! Review! Even if it's just a quick note, or favorite my story or put me on alert! It seriously makes me post faster. Well, excluding this week's whole cross-posting fiesta, but that's over now.


Chapter Eleven


Darkness blanketed the hallway as firm, strong arms wrapped around her body.

"Chloe..." His voice was like the ichor that flowed through the veins of the gods, sending flushes and chills in concordant rhythms. "I need you... now..." Those arms held her close in the nondescript hallway, her chest pressed against firm, hard muscle barely contained in the button down and T-shirt he always wore. Fingers grasped at the material, she hastily pulled the barrier between them aside. The groan that rumbled through his body echoed down the hall, washing over her sensitive nerves. In the darkness, all was clear.

His lips met hers in the black, tantalizing, soft, almost hesitant, caresses of forbidden attraction, a lust laid bare.

They rolled and she arched her back, straddling him like a Queen of this dark boudoir. Wrists free, she laughed, a groan interrupting the cadence as she felt shivers of sensation. No thoughts of anything but the body beneath her, her nails streaked across his pectorals without a care.

Crimson lines from the scratches she'd left caught her eye.

Slender, elegant fingers found the knife where it gleamed, begging for nourishment. He called her name, the climax of his passion destroying his focus, and she grinned. Cold. Hungry.

Chosen Girl... you are being used. The Path is dangerous.

Protect them at all costs.

Chloe's eyes flew open, her whole body chilled and flushed, tangled in bed sheets. The thundering hooves of lust pounding through her blood were quickly chased by the icy cold of terror as her dream came flooding to her all at once. Her stomach churned as her whole body felt charged at every synapse. The conflicting sensations made the petite blonde writhe in bed as she tried to cool the fire in her blood.

A ragged breath escaped her lips as she untangled her arms from the fabric, reaching up to brush strands of yellow out of her eyes. As she did so, she felt the clamminess of her palms, the way her hair stuck to her face, and realized she was covered in sweat. For someone who was so used to people messing with her head, putting her through things that gave her nightmares, she couldn't ever remember being this scared in a long time. Chloe's gray eyes stared blankly at the ceiling as she panted, trying to block the images of her dream out of her mind. Never mind the fact that she'd been dreaming about Dean and her doing things that they would never do, but, then she was cutting him and…

He wasn't beside her. Dean wasn't sleeping beside her. She'd just been sleepwalking the night before, what if she'd…

Chloe sat up so fast her head spun, but she didn't care. "Dean? Dean!" Her voice sounded foreign to her, the concern and terror lacing every bit of his name. "Dean, where-" Her eyes scanned the room frantically just as the door to the motel room opened. Sauntering through it, like it was no skin off his back, was Dean Winchester, in blue jeans and a slate blue button-down, two cups of coffee in his hands.

Chloe was out of bed in an instant, working solely on instinct. She practically flew to him, her hands groping at his chest, tugging at the shirt, pulling it up to make sure the wounds weren't there. Please, she can't, Fate, you can't let her hurt them…

His stomach was fine. It was better than fine. It was… defined muscles under taut, tan skin, and there wasn't a mark on him. It was better than her fantasy, her hands could just trace along those creases and…

"Uhh… so, normally, I wouldn't stop a hot, Leggy Blonde from undressin' me, but, uh… this isn't really… you behavior, uh… Blondie." Dean's voice was far too casual for Chloe's liking, but the rumbling tones did make Chloe pause, realizing just what she was doing. In her rush to make sure that she hadn't actually hurt him, she had just completely violated his personal space. What the hell, was she Lois now?

Chloe backpedaled, dropping his shirt and trying to find any place that her apparently judiciously greedy hands could go. That wasn't Dean's stomach. Oh, seriously? She didn't need to be thinking about his stomach. Or any other part of him. This was not normal for her. She wasn't boy crazy. She wasn't dopey teen-aged Chloe Sullivan who slept with Jimmy, the guy at the Daily Planet during her internship. This was the Chloe Sullivan who'd lost Jimmy… who'd lost Oliver.

Oliver. The thought sobered her. Knowing she'd lost him had made it hurt less to be away from him, but…What was she doing? Why was she thinking about Dean when she was very clearly on a path to save Oliver? She knew, inherently, that when this case was over, she wouldn't see him again. Except... when she would have to sacrifice her sanity for Fate. For all she knew, he could still be an enemy at the end of the day.

Love is dangerous... The Chosen Girl. Nabu knows. Would you sacrifice your sanity to save the Archer?

You will lose Oliver, but you are not alone.

The Path is dangerous.

There will be another.

Chloe blinked as she heard Dean say her name, pulling herself out of her reverie. Woah. Was it just her, or had the game of Trivial Pursuit in her head just given her a new pie slice on the board? That had been Nabu's voice, and she couldn't remember hearing those words before. There will be another? What was he trying to tell her?

"Chloe." Dean must've said her name at least two more times, because she knew he'd been talking, but she just... in one ear, out the other. Trying to focus and take stock in her surroundings, she took a deep breath and glanced up at him, trying to force a strained smile.

"Sorry. After the nightmares I've had, I feel like I live on Elm Street. I was scared that..." Her gaze flickered from his face down to his stomach again, her stomach turning unpleasantly as she tried to ignore the flash of bloody gashes along his body. "Someone got hurt..."

Dean's smirking face suddenly came into view as he tilted his head to meet her gaze. "Hey." He reached down, pulling up his shirt again and revealing those tanned abs with not a single mark on them and- Oh, for the love of God, Chloe, stop getting distracted. "I'm fine, you didn't do anything." Just from the look on his face, that twinkle in his eyes, that smirk, she knew he wanted to tease her more. Most likely another comment about seeing his skin. God, and she thought Oliver had been bad enough.

Swallowing, Chloe tore her eyes away from Dean's body, and instead focused on something else, like the cups in his hands. "Um... you brought coffee?" She asked hopefully, taking the opportunity to change the subject.

"Uh, yeah," Another roguish grin, and before Chloe could speak again, he was holding out one of them for her. As she took the styrofoam cup, her eyes caught sight of the abbreviated markings on the side of it. Her eyes widened as that lightning-fast brain of hers deciphered the readings. "You got me a decaf, caramel, java-chip white-chocolate mocha with three shots in it?" No freaking way, Sullivan. No way this Rock'n'Roll Greasemonkey remembered that.

"Heck yeah, you order it like, all the time. It's the only damn thing I ever see you get when we go to the coffee shop on the main street." Dean sounded so insufferably proud of himself, but Chloe really didn't notice. She still couldn't believe it. Dean Winchester. Man's man, man about town, the guy that up until last night, she was pretty sure never spoke to a woman who didn't either A) give him something he wanted or B) was the thing he wanted... he remembered how she liked her coffee. And he'd gotten up in the middle of the night to pull her off of a railing she'd been playing ballerina upon, and then stayed with her. And talked with her.

Oliver never even remembered what kind of coffee I drank...

"I dunno why you drink any of this stuff. I mean, you're short. By my standards, and I live with Jumbo." Dean was still grumbling, albeit cheerily - if Dean did that. Did he do that? Actually, yeah, he had to be the only person she'd ever met who could grumble like Lois, with a flipping smile on his face, too.

Brushing the errant thoughts aside with the strands of her hair in her eyes, she took a sip of coffee, letting the much needed fuel for the Chloe-mobile wash through her system, effectively calming her down the rest of the way. Better. Much better. She could focus on the day's challenges, and now that she knew Dean was safe and sound, she could try to decipher her nightmare.

Dean chuckled, breaking her out of her java-induced state of zen. "I actually think they got groups for your kind of addiction there, Blondie. You want, I can have Sammy look 'em up - " Chloe held a hand up, hoping to silence him as she took another sip of her drink. Seriously, this guy could talk as long as he wanted, he was not going to remove her from her happy coffee place. Abs or no abs. Stop thinking about his abs, for God's sake.

To be fair, she had been thinking about Clark's abs for a loooong time after she stopped being interested in him. It was part of the hazards of being surrounded by incredibly attractive, athletic, heroic men. Sometimes, the cylinders fired even when she had the car in neutral. Oh, fun. I'm making analogies about cars. Dean is beginning to rub off on me.

Half the cup drained, Chloe finally put the delicious, medically necessary beverage down, and glanced back up at the resident Han Solo in her motel room. Apparently, with Chloe focused on her coffee, he'd taken the opportunity to flop onto her bed and stretch out. Instead of the warning bells from before, though, she found herself just... endeared to the behavior. To be fair, she had settled into a nice rhythm with the boys, different from Watchtower, different from anything she really knew to be familiar. They were sort of like constant vagrants. She never expected them to be there the next morning, yet she inherently knew they wouldn't leave until this town was safe. Heroes. Always the heroes.

"Thank you for the fill-up, hoss," Chloe smiled, trying to keep a brave front on, even as that feeling of nervousness and worry began to creep up as soon as she had swallowed the last drop of caffeine. "Now that I've gotten some fuel in the tank, I think it's time I took a shower. No offense, but I don't particularly care to smell like salt, sweat and booze." And I need some time to think... Her mind echoed what she simply couldn't say. Turning, she made her way to the dresser and pulled open the top drawer, glancing through her modest wardrobe. Funny, none of this looks like you, Chloe. The sardonic thought was brushed away just as quickly as it occurred with a sweep of the shirt and jeans she pulled free from the drawer. She expected to hear Dean stand, but... no surprise as she glanced up at the mirror in front of her, Mister Winchester was still lounging lazily. "Hey, Dean? I don't actually need a guard dog while I scrub off funk."

Dean did no more than gulp down a bit of his own coffee, then give her another one of those oh-so-familiar smirks of his. "Yeah, well, I'll believe it when you stop tryin' to off yourself, okay, Princess?"

That's a new one. "So I'm a Princess now?" She chuckled, making her way to the bathroom and leaving the door slightly ajar as she turned the faucet on. This battle would not be worth fighting, he could stay there for all she cared.

"Yeah, well, you are pretty high-maintenance with your decaf caramel java-chip white chocolate mocha with three shots." It was really good he couldn't see her, because Chloe saw her own reflection. The smirk and roll of her eyes would have just given Dean more fuel for the fire.

"Yeah, about that," She called over the sound of running water, pulling off her pajama top. "Wanna tell me how you have Total Recall on my drink choices?" The moment she spoke, she couldn't help but grin. She already knew the answer. "Never mind, I'm sure it's part of Dean Winchester's Book on How to Pick Up Women."

"'Ey!" She heard Dean bark just as she moved to close the door. "If I actually had a book like that, you think I'd be doin' this? I'd be layin' on my piles of money!"

"I never said it was published!" The door shut with a resounding click. All that was left was Chloe's breath, and the sound of water hitting the porcelain tub.

Stripping down the rest of the way, she stepped into the hot spray and pulled the curtain closed behind her. Tilting her head back, Chloe relished in the sensation of finally getting clean. Her dream had left her feeling as though she'd never rested at all, terrified at what was possible, what she'd seen. I should tell them... The thought echoed in her mind. But how? How could she explain the last few weeks to them?

From their understanding, Chloe was a hapless victim, being plagued by moments of listlessness that ended in self-harm. Well, that part is true, Sullivan, so you won't have a print a retraction just yet.

She reached for the shampoo idly as she replayed the last few weeks here. While it was true that she hadn't been aware of what the Countess made her do, she had been aware of one thing: the boys saw something, but it wasn't what she had. Ever since they'd been stopped outside the Viera home by the vision of Bathory and her carriage, Chloe realized that somewhere along the way, the three of them had gone down separate paths. Dean had mentioned that he'd seen ghosts of the girls who'd been taken, and while Sam had also mentioned it, he never sounded as worried about that as... something else. And Chloe?

She saw the Countess in herself.

At first, it would only be in glimpses from the corner of her eye. She'd pass a window and swear she'd seen red. Or, she'd brush her hair and glance in the mirror, stunned to see long, black tresses instead of the pale, straw blonde she loved. Then came more of the cutting and bleeding. That she could understand, though! The Countess's entire modus operandi was to bathe in the blood of young women. It seemed like she was marking Chloe, as if to claim her as a new victim. Yet, for some reason, other girls were being taken.

Chloe knew something was different, but her dream... it gave her a glance into the possibilities. She was with Dean, and she was hurting him. She craved that pain, there was a hunger to wound and touch the crimson blood of someone else that it made her at once sick and yet pained with desire.

That's not me. I know that's not me.

The Path is dangerous. You are the Chosen Girl. You are the mirror.

Chloe dropped the shampoo as the words flooded through her body, mind and soul. Even though she knew her eyes were open, nothing but golden light flooded her vision. Chloe gripped at the wall, waiting for the moment to pass.

The light inside you is desired by many. Protect it at all costs.

With a ragged gasp, Chloe's vision went from gold back to the dull colors of her shower.

The Path. Everything Fate had told her had led her here, and then the trail stopped cold. She'd wondered why, the Countess had even used that insecurity against her, and yet, the answer was in her face all along. Words from her vision provided by Nabu, the one that she knew she'd never peel back all the layers to...

Suddenly, the way the Countess had come after her was beginning to make sense. That couldn't have just been a dream. No, she was sure she'd heard the voice of Dr. Fate.

Oh, god, he knew. Fate had known this was where she'd be going. He knew that by sending her to Delight, by setting her on this path, she would eventually be in this situation. That was why the words had come to her. That was why there had been nothing but silence as she met the Winchesters, got to know them, worked with them.

"Nabu knows..." Chloe whispered, swallowing thickly. In her dream, she had heard him speak. She had heard his voice as she'd reached down to send a killing blow to the Dean in her dreams. "I'm the mirror..." Her knees weakened as the realization began to weigh upon her. "Oh my god, the Countess wants me... for me." All the images made sense. In place of dead girls, there was only the one vision. Always the one vision.

Chloe shut the shower off, ignoring the fact that while the shampoo was out of her hair, she felt dirty all over again. "She wants my body."

With that knowledge now securely entrenched within her mind, Chloe quashed any fear she had. In a flurry, she dressed in the blue jeans and blood red V-necked shirt she'd grabbed. Her hair, she towel-dried, and she was on her way out the door again. She needed to talk to Sam and Dean, she had a hunch, and she just needed to -

Chloe paused in the doorway as she got a good look at her bed. Oh, that's right. Dean was still here. And he was asleep. Totally dozing.

For just a moment, it was easy to forget her life in Smallville, in Metropolis. It was easy to forget the whole sordid affair that had been Chloe Sullivan's life up until three months ago. As much as she was worried about the outcome, one thing she could not deny was how good this experience had been. Dean and Sam's personalities made it impossible for her not to get drawn in, to feel a sense of connection that made her think that for two minutes, maybe she belonged.

You belong with Oliver. And Clark, and Lois. You had a life, Chloe. A part of her mind reminded her, the same part that made her walk over towards Dean on the bed. Don't be so quick to give it up. She really wanted to ignore that little conscience of hers. Knowing how difficult, how dark and stormy the days ahead would be, she couldn't help but want to stay here. With the Winchesters. Being a "Hunter." Simple, on a case-by-case basis, always moving. Too bad there wasn't a way to have her cake and eat it, too.

Chloe made her way to the bed, tapping Dean's foot and watching him stir. "So," She started as he sat up, a little bleary-eyed. "Aside from taking a bite of the poisoned apple from the Evil Queen," Chloe took a seat on the bed beside him, one leg tucked under the other. "Did I do anything else that would earn me a spot on this year's Scream Queen list?" It was best to play the hapless victim. Just because she knew the Countess's endgame didn't mean that she needed to give anything else up. Not to him. Not when she knew what was at stake.

"Uhhh..." Dean cleared his throat, sitting up completely and swiping a hand over his eyes, presumably to wake up. "Not that I can think of. You slept just fine."

"Good." Now that Chloe had a purpose and a goal, she was calculating how to get to the end of the Yellow Brick Road before the Wicked Witch. "I would ask if you touched base with Sam, but given how I found you, I will just take a wild guess and say it slipped your mind." Which didn't surprise her, but honestly, she wanted both of them there while they figured this out. Both of them, as loathe as they were to compliment each other, knew each had a specialty in hunting. In the same way that you didn't ask Vic to handle a problem with something in the ocean, Arthur knew that Vic had a technical prowess that even Chloe couldn't deny.

"Nah, he was still sleepin' when I checked on him earlier." The look on Dean's face changed. She'd expected him to start flirting about how he'd rather spend time with her than his "gay brother". It was typical of what she knew of Dean. So when his sleepy smirk crumbled, only for his jaw to set and his eyes to drop down to the ground, focusing on the floor, it caught her off-guard. "First time I've seen him sleep past 6 for..." Dean's gaze trembled a little. Had things really changed that much last night? She felt like he was opening up - "Know what? Forget it."

Chloe, for just a second, was sure that Bart had just zipped by, because the space next to her was suddenly empty as Dean was already up and heading to the door. "Where - "

"I'm gonna go wake Poindexter up, we're gonna need him up and runnin' asap. You tried to off yourself like you were in The Happening last night, I don't like it." And just like that, he was gone, out the door.

"Holy crap, it is just like Clark..." She whispered, amused in spite of the macabre situation she was in. "If he's not speeding away, he's telling me what to do." Grabbing her jacket and her coffee, Chloe slipped on her closest pair of flats so she could join the boys in their motel room.

Shutting the door behind her, Chloe absently glanced out towards the parking lot.

A shiver ran from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. She was there. She was right there.

Haia haia, mica baia...

Chloe's eyes glazed, her eyelids growing heavy as she heard the melodic, unearthly song through her ears, through her very blood.

Haia, hai, hai...

Chloe Sullivan's feet moved of their own accord, stepping towards the edge of the balcony as the raven hair of the Countess Erzebet Bathory whipped in a wind only she seemed to feel. Her hand gripped the railing tightly, her stomach pressed against the frigid metal as what had once been a mild morning became chilling. Her shallow breath curled from her precious lips in a faint mist, but all had faded from her view. All except the Countess.

Cati copii ai...

The Countess's hand raised to invite. Chloe's followed, the marionette on the string in this morbid play.

Take a step, lululica. Take the step, come down to join me...

The voice was silken water, fire, ice and earth all at once. Her heart pounded, the throbbing sensation so poignant, so painful, Chloe could not disobey.

"Chloe?"

She blinked. Sam. She heard Sam.

Shaking her head, gray eyes searched the parking lot, the spell was broken, the Countess gone. No longer enthralled, Chloe turned, presenting a more reserved front. The younger Winchester was standing in the doorway, jeans, plaid shirt and hands stuffed in his pockets. "You okay?" He asked, voice casual and, perhaps a little worried.

Swallowing, the somewhat nervous, green-energy low-wattage Chloe Sullivan smile slid onto her features. "Yeah. Sure. I just needed some air before I stepped into the Winchester Man-Cave."

A shy smile and chuckle from Sam were the only response she received, but it was for the best. Trying to brush her thoughts of what the Countess had done aside, she sipped her coffee and stepped past him into the room. Time to really crack down, Sullivan. Time to bring the bad guy in and put this paper to bed.

"So, I filled Sammy in on the whole you-thinkin'-you-could-fly thing," Dean had settled down at the small table they utilized as their work area. "Figured you didn't mind."

"No," Chloe smirked, playful sarcasm already on her lips. "It's perfectly natural for me to experience a somnambulistic episode involving a sanguinarian Hungarian Countess with a penchant for little girls." She placed her nearly empty cup of fuel on the desk in front of Dean. "Thank you for the candor." She winked.

Dean blinked, as if he needed to in order to kick-start his brain after Chloe's verbal trip into Webster's. "Of course, that's the kind of guy I am, Blondie. Real considerate."

"What?" Sam laughed as the door shut behind them. "Oh, whatever, you are not - "

"Before the two of you start up this morning, can we keep the compasses focused North, please?" Chloe was patient, but she knew how quickly the two of them could get going, and before she'd know it, it would be Sam vs. Dean, round 15.

Huffing, Sam rolled his eyes as he crossed the room, making his way to the kitchenette so he could pour more coffee from their pot. "Unfortunately, we still don't know what the Countess is, or what she's trying to do. Other than take girls."

"I bet you money we're missin' something small," Dean growled as he finished his coffee. "I mean, let's recap. Just for the hell of it. Maybe Sammy spent too much time watching porn, not enough time working." Typical, Dean, nice high road you're taking, Chloe thought sardonically.

Glowering, Sam was the first to speak. "Well, total's up to 10 girls," He tossed hair out of his eyes on the way back to the bed and folded one long, lanky leg under as he took a seat. "We know that at least three of them had the Bathory Coat of Arms charm, but we haven't been able to figure out why."

"And their parents sure as hell ain't talkin'," Dean grumbled. Chloe could practically feel the frustration radiating off of the Winchester who always smelled like leather and gunpowder - woah, Sullivan. Less gossip column, more front page. "So, we got bubkus, Chuckles. That's what we got."

"Well, I mean, we know that the parents are scared. They won't say why, but considering how much the Colemans talked to you and Chloe?" Sam ran his hand through his hair as Chloe rested against their dresser, gnawing gently on her lower lip thoughtfully. "Yeah, I dunno, I feel like they should've had way more to fear from the Countess than the Vieras, the Rawlings, or anyone else."

Chloe's eyes widened. The synapses fired. "Roses."

There was silence for a moment. The weight of what she'd said settled over the trio as Sam and Dean exchanged glances, unspoken communication Chloe was accustomed to at this point.

Dean was the first to look back at her, the two boys seemingly at a loss. "Peanut butter." He said simply. "See? I can say random words, too."

A chuckle escaped her lips before she could stop it. "That's not what I meant, but thanks for that, now I'm hungry." As much as she wanted to be annoyed that he was joking, she certainly wasn't. Again, it was endearing... Chloe sobered. She couldn't have endearing right now. She had a purpose, she really needed to focus on what was important. Stopping the Countess. "There were roses all over the Coleman residence. Do you remember, Dean? I mean, it was kind of hard to ignore, the scent was everywhere."

"I don't, uh..." Dean glanced over at his brother. "I don't normally pay attention to flower smells. It's not really on the top of my radar."

Five bucks says if I asked you what my shampoo was, you'd know. You notice details... An idle thought shot back before she could get her head back in the proverbial game. Chloe ran a hand through her short, straight hair. "Look, the point is, that's something the Colemans had that the others didn't. Why would that set them apart? Why would their daughter be taken, they divulge more information than anyone else, yet they are perfectly fine?" The questions hung in the air like a children's mobile, spinning softly above their heads with no end in sight.

Until Sam snapped his fingers and grabbed for his laptop, stretching across the mattress. "Dean, gimme." He flicked his fingers impatiently until the thin - but not nearly as classy as Chloe's Watchtower tablets - laptop was finally in his grasp. His fingers flew across the keys for a moment, and with another quick swipe on the trackpad, Sam's accomplished smile graced his features. "So... I think I figured it out." Even Dean was shutting up for the moment. "Roses started out as a symbol of the wounds of Christ. Eventually, the meaning morphed into a symbol for the blood of Christian martyrs." He paused to breathe. "Bathory was a devout Protestant. Even if she was crazy, her spirit would believe that roses repelled the dead." Sam shot a curious glance his sibling's way. "I wonder why we never used them."

"Maybe 'cause using flowers would just look gay?" Chloe arched an eyebrow at Dean's choice of words. "Anyway, that's not the point. You're sayin' that the Coleman's had a Valentine's Day bouquet of weird in their living room, so that's why the Countess hasn't done whatever it is she wants to do to the parents?"

"That's what it looks like." Sam reached up to scratch his neck idly, thinking. The room fell silent as the three of them mulled it over. "So... she stays away from the Colemans because of the roses in the house. But that carriage is clearly a manifestation of some kind."

"I think it's a Revenant." Dean blurted with such certainty that even Chloe had to whip her head to look at him. Then again, Chlo, he treats ghosts like you treat Kandorians and Amazons.

"A..." Disbelief colored Sam's voice as he considered what his brother said. "A revenant? Seriously?" He shook his head, brow furrowing again. "I dunno, man, revenants tend to attack people they knew. Plus, they stay close to home. Why would she suddenly show up hundreds of years later, thousands of miles from her home?"

Silence fell again, this time filled with tension as Dean found himself unable to come up with a rebuttal. Chloe hated this. Her limited knowledge of the paranormal and supernatural sometimes came into direct conflict with what she knew about aliens, science and magic. But, then again...

"Maybe something brought her here." Older memories of high school seemed to come floating to the surface, but it felt a little like she was having to dust off cobwebs. There just wasn't enough coffee in this entire motel building for Chloe to be working at her peak. "Growing up, a friend of mine, Lana, went to France for a summer to study. When she came back, she had this tattoo on her back that no one had ever seen before. A ghost wound up piggybacking on my BFF by giving her that tattoo. Sounds just as likely that someone in this town brought a part of Bathory back with them." Okay, considering how difficult it had been to dredge that up, Chloe made a bee line for the coffee pot, pouring what was left. It was better than nothing.

"Well, that would explain why the parents know about the Countess but don't want to stop her. Or won't." Sam's brow knit in worry. "I mean, they have to know something, but they won't talk." He huffed, staring at his hands in his lap. "If we just knew what had happened to the girls, what they know..."

Oh, thank god for caffeine. As she took a sip of hot, bitter liquid, a wave of inspiration rushed right through Chloe's mind. "What if we can?" Chloe moved away from the kitchenette and slid next to Sam on the bed, deftly rescuing the laptop from his grip.

"Come again?" Dean barked.

"I can't believe I didn't think of this sooner." Another sip of coffee and already, she was forming the paths along the information superhighway that she knew she needed to travel. "We've been sitting here obsessing over why the parents aren't talking, but we forgot to ask the kids." Her slender fingers flitted over the keyboard with the same care and grace she'd had when using her Watchtower systems. Her gray eyes locked on the screen in front of her, Chloe could feel herself sinking back into that place, that home where she plugged in and soon, the real world faded away. It was all digital from here.

"Um... you wanna run that by me again, hot stuff, cause, correct me if I'm wrong," She vaguely caught sight of Dean getting up from the chair and walking towards her. "We've been seeing their dead bodies, so I don't think your computer's gonna let them do any talkin'."

"Except we didn't even consider that those girls might have known something before they were taken." Chloe's mouth moved at a rate comparable to her fingers, so she just let the techno-mojo work its way through her system. "Think about it. A town this small but enough people with smart phones, laptops and internet cafes? Kids these days live and breathe on the Internet, it's a staple of their lives that's existed longer than they have. Example. Sam, when did the Legend of Zelda come out?" Chloe pointed a finger at him to answer without ever taking her eyes off of the screen.

"Uhhh... I dunno, it's been out forever, it's an old game."

Chloe pointed a finger at Dean. "Hey, Dean, what address did FDR give over TV for the first time?"

"Hell if I know, one of his fireside chats?"

Chloe glanced up to Dean, her eyes twinkling with mirth and mischief, Watchtower hard at work at knowing everything. "Wrong. FDR was never on TV. But, you're so used to it having been around, it's easy to see where that's a common misconception." She focused on the screen again, but not so quickly that she didn't catch a smile on Dean's face that was... almost dreamy? Right, sure, keep your Reporter's Instinct to yourself about that guy. Focus on the case. "The point is, social media is how these kids operate. I mean, we're sitting here acting like the parents know everything and that the kids' diaries are locked up in some tower with Rapunzel waiting to let down her hair. We don't need to. We've got a digital ladder leading to the virtual diary these girls kept..." Chloe swiveled the screen so they could see as she finished bringing up the journal of the last girl. "Right here."

"LJ." Sam rolled his eyes. "Of course."

"LJ?" Dean repeated, although he didn't sound nearly as convinced. "What, is that like LL Cool J's younger, lesser-known brother?"

"It's a site for people to keep virtual journals." Sam explained with a voice that, well, Chloe had to admit, it was coming off a little, well, diva-ish. "Take a look. I mean, people talk about their personal lives, they do silly surveys, all sorts of things."

Dean gave the screen a cursory, sidelong glance, and turned to head back to the desk, as if this conversation no longer interested him. He barely got half a step away before he turned to look back again, eyes narrowing. He was realizing what Chloe had seen the moment she'd pulled up the website. "Hang on a sec. Isn't that one of the Bathory symbol-coat things?"

Sam leaned closer, and before Chloe realized it, she was well on her way to having a canopy of Winchesters overhead. "You're right, it is... What is that, is that a school or something?" Sam reached out, presumably to scroll or click on the symbol. Chloe couldn't see, as at this point, she was just a very pretty lap desk for the computer. Which, she reasoned, was acceptable for the moment. "The Berenika Finishing School. Looks like Olivia went there..." Another click, the younger Winchester's expression grew more hopeful as he kept reading. "And Amber. And Kelly. They were all students of that school."

"The Berenika Finishing school just happens to use the Coat of Arms for the Bathory family?" Chloe echoed what they were all thinking. "Coincidence, maybe. But I doubt it. This after school special was doing way more than just teaching girls what forks to use at dinner."

"We go there, we get all the answers." Dean reasoned, waggling a finger at the computer as if it had already given up the location. "We gotta find this place."

The laptop spun again so she could see. Finding the address of the school would be ridiculously easy now that Chloe was on the case. "Just give me a few minutes and I should have the address. Navigating the information super-highway is easy when you know the right exit to take and you have a GPS like I do."

"You are all about the hyperbole there, aren't you, Blondie?" Dean chuckled as he walked over to the desk chair to fish through his jacket pockets for something. Ah, Peanut M&Ms. "So, what? The more smarty-pants you get, the more you turn into sounding like a James Cameron film?"

Leave it to him to call her on her 'Professor' attitude. "Look, I'm no Kate Winslet, so you'll have to forgive me if we're minus one ship of dreams. But, while you were busy teasing me, I've already gotten the address and business license for this finishing school."

Oh, boy, they were like Pavlov's dogs. All she'd done was ring the bell. Mirth played over her features as Sam and Dean both grabbed for their jackets, and in Sam's case, he was slipping on his shoes.

"Well, then, what're we waiting for?" Sam hopped on one foot for a second as he pulled on one of his shoes. "Maybe if we check it out, we'll find something that links the school to the Countess in a supernatural sense."

Something caught Chloe's eye, and she paused, scanning the text again. "Uh, hang on a sec, my Dynamic Duo. I think I just scooped you without leaving the room." Chloe's voice faded as she gave her complete attention to the articles she'd stumbled upon. The school had an interesting history, that was for sure. Of course, if she didn't tell the boys, they'd be waiting forever for her to say something. "I just found a series of articles about the school's opening last year. According to this, the actress Ana Berenika moved out here and had the building constructed by several different groups of contractors. She'd fire them every month or so."

Another click of a link, bringing up another piece of the puzzle.

Meanwhile, Dean and Sam were apparently having more of that sibling communication. "So, like, HH Holmes..." That was Dean.

"Yeah, sounds like." Sam that time. And... apparently he was hopping again, so he was probably putting on his other shoe.

"Ms. Berenika's career seems to have significantly cooled off the last ten years or so." Chloe continued. "Apparently she's had a problem transitioning into the Aging Gracefully category for actresses." The information was falling into place so fast that Chloe found herself wishing for Brainiac's processing speed. At least she'd feel like she wasn't missing something huge, even with all the sheer data coming her way. "So, she turned to teaching and opened up the school. But, not before she took a trip to Csejte Castle. When she came back, that's when she started constructing the school. That castle was Bathory's home." Chloe closed the laptop's screen, needing a disconnect from the digital for the moment. Especially since she was pretty sure that a virtual cache would not help them against the Countess. No, that was definitely Dean and Sam's realm of expertise. "Something tells me that if we go to the school, we won't leave until we get to the bottom of this."

"Damn straight." Dean sounded thrilled by this! It's like Oliver on uppers. And more Zeppelin. "So let's pack it up and get going. Sammy, c'mon, let's go. Let's check the gear in the car."

As the boys made their way to the door, Chloe stood and stretched, debating what she should bring of her own. Well, if they were going to run into something supernatural, she needed what little bit of her own arsenal she had. "I'll meet you guys downstairs in a few."

While Dean and Sam focused on the stash in the Impala, Chloe headed back to her motel room. Shrugging off her jacket, she tossed the leather on her bed and moved to her dresser, pulling open the top drawer. "I know you're in here somewhere..." Chloe whispered, searching intently for a specific, very precious leather bag. Finally, her fingers grasped around it and pulled it free from her tank tops. Pulling open the dark blue drawstring, she reached in and gently extricated a vibrant cerulean gemstone in its setting, a silver chain following obediently.

"What is it?" The gentle waves at Gotham City's Narrows dock momentarily reminded Chloe of Paradise Island, but the blanket of darkness on the rooftop was nothing like the idyllic bastion in the Atlantic.

The Amazon warrior's slender fingers held the gemstone aloft, the silver chain glinting in the passing light of a police helicopter overhead. Most likely, they were on the hunt for the mysterious criminal gang who'd broken into Ace Chemicals that evening. "They are called the Eyes of Argus. There are only 99 such gemstones in existence." As the gemstone that swirled with cerulean and hints of purple passed from the tall, buxom, raven-haired beauty with strong, Greek features who seemed so uncomfortable in the slacks and red shirt Chloe had provided her, the petite blonde could swear she felt warmth in the stone. Almost as though she was meant to have the artifact. "Keep it with you, do not lose it. Such things are near-impossible to find, and truly impossible to replace, my sister."

Chloe's gray eyes tore away reluctantly from the vibrant trinket at Diana's warning. "What does it do?" She found herself thankful that Fate had given her such a boon in being able to speak the Themyscrican dialect of ancient Greek, or she would have missed meeting such a... wonderous woman.

The Amazon's features were graced with the sort of smile that Chloe used to think only Lois could manage. That light-up-a-room smile that was full of grace, not revealing the tiger underneath, ready to break free. "The eyes of Argus were used by Hera to protect her people, to see everywhere. When Argus was slain by Hermes, she placed his eyes in her sacred peacock. Once a year for one hundred years, the Peacock shed one feather. The eye of the feather became the gem as you see it." Diana turned, striding across the rooftop in long, smooth steps, presumably to oversee the progress of the police force below. "Should you ever feel there is danger, wear the Eye. It will seek out a worthy protector for you, and shall summon them to your aid." The Princess pulled her gaze from the streets and instead looked back at a woman she had helped nurse back to health, trained to fight. "Not that I suspect you will need it often. Phillipus and I have taught you well. But, I cannot always be there to protect you. Not when there is..." Diana's face fell. "So much violence and pain in this Patriarch's World. I must learn your people, learn your ways. Once I have done that, I'm sure our paths will cross again. Until then..." Chloe crossed the distance between them, sensing the farewell in her words. "My dear sister..." Diana gripped Chloe's wrist with one hand, pulling her closer and holding her close, the embrace familiar now. "Do not dwell on what you cannot change, Sister. Be safe, be well, and you shall be in my thoughts. May Hera bless your heart and may Athena bless your mind."

Blinking, Chloe shook the memories away, slipping the gemstone on its chain over her neck, tucking it under the shirt. She'd seen enough of the magic that hid Paradise Island from human eyes to know that if Diana said this could help her, she believed it.

By the time she made it back downstairs, Dean and Sam had finished loading the Impala. Dean was shrugging on his leather jacket, and she could see Sam's auburn hair in the passenger's seat.

"You done powderin' your nose or whatever it is you do?" Dean was flashing her a big grin, the kind that was straight-up teasing, no flirtation actually involved. When Chloe's expression matched his own, he must've taken that as a yes, because he strode to the driver's seat and hopped in.

As they made their way towards the Berenika Finishing school, Chloe sat somewhat reclined in the back. Her fingers idly toyed with the gem under her shirt as Led Zeppelin's Immigrant Song played over the radio.

"So, I'm thinkin' that this Berenika chick might be a few fries short of a Happy Meal if she's building her school all HH Holmes style." Dean was talking over the radio, and Chloe forced herself to sit up a little more comfortably, resting her chin between the two boys on the bench seat. "What I don't get is... why're we seeing the girls' ghosts? I mean, I can get us seein' the Countess, she's the Revenant. And the carriage - "

"That's probably just an extension of the Countess's ghost, like that phantom trucker from last year in Missouri -" Sam chimed in.

"Yeah, can we not fuckin' talk about Missouri, dude?" Dean snapped. Chloe's eyebrows raised in surprise. Whatever had happened in Missouri was apparently a sore subject. Good to know for the future.

"Dean, it's part of our job, so, I'm sorry if you're upset about what happened with Cassie, but - "

"The hell's the matter with you? The fuck did I just say - "

Chloe.

Her blood went cold. The Countess.

As the car made a slightly reckless turn along the winding country road, they reached a length of straight road, framed by dark, dying trees. For a mild season, the trees still should have been vibrant shades of green. Instead, the whole stretch seemed gray, colorless.

Lululica... I see you.

Ignorant of the conversation going on around her, Chloe's ears trained on the voice in her head, and her eyes trained on the sudden whirling, roiling pillar of smoke at the end of the road.

The carriage came bursting through, stallions' hooves beating at breakneck speed.

"Dean!" Chloe managed to breathe in warning, grabbing his shoulder on instinct.

"Sonuvabitch!" Dean shouted, his voice strangled, radiating tension as he swerved to avoid the behemoth of wood, metal and psychic energy.

The Impala banked to the left, across the empty lane in the opposite direction, and Chloe was nearly slung onto her side. She gripped at Dean's shoulder painfully, but it was all she could do to stay in her seat as he slammed on the brake. The muscle car skidded, shuddered, and protested as Dean kept cranking the wheel to the left, swiftly approaching a tree and hoping to avoid it.

"Hold on!" He growled, and Chloe could feel his entire body tense in one instant as the brakes caught hold of pavement, and they careened towards the tree in billowing white smoke and the smell of burning rubber.

The hood of the car stopped only breaths away from the trunk of the oak tree.

No one spoke. Then again, she didn't think any of them could. Each of them was too busy trying to catch collective breaths of air in heaving, shallow gulps.

Chloe glanced back out the passenger window facing the street. No carriage. She turned back to Dean, opening her mouth to speak.

Lululica, cuculica...

The passenger door to her right suddenly clicked as it came unlocked, and swung violently open of its own volition. Acrid black smoke came pouring in.

"Shit!" She squeaked, unbuckling her seat belt and backpedaling towards the other side of the car. The smoke wrapped around her ankle, icy tendrils of pain that made tears immediately spring to her eyes. "Dean! Dean, drive!" Chloe's voice was etched with searing, angry sensation as the tendrils tightened, the smoke became form.

You are mine.

Chloe suddenly felt the world give way beneath her as she was wrenched by her ankle right out of the backseat of the Impala and dragged across the impossibly rough asphalt. She rolled, not quite sure how, and found herself on her stomach, ignoring the stinging and searing of road rash and various scrapes along her flesh. She'd had worse, she could take this.

She could vaguely hear Dean and Sam shouting for her over the rush of blood throbbing in her ears, and Chloe glanced up through her haphazard hair in her eyes. She could taste iron and licked her lips, wincing as she realized her bottom lip was split, also throbbing. Leave... turn the car around and go... She silently pleaded as she watched the Winchesters do the exact opposite. They'd left the safety of the Impala, they were running towards her. She'd only been dragged about fifteen feet, an easy sprint -

A scream tore from Chloe's throat as her entire left leg felt like it had been ripped from the socket of her hip. Suddenly, she felt more tearing, searing pain as her flesh was raked against the asphalt. The stretch of road, the Impala, Dean and Sam all disappeared from view as she found herself moving.

Chloe managed to flip herself back over again, a sob wracking her lungs as she stole a glance towards what was pulling her to some unknown destination.

The last thing Chloe saw was the back end of the carriage. The Countess held a chain in her hands as though it was no effort. That chain was wrapped around Chloe's ragged ankle.

Blinding pain exploded behind her eyes as the back of her head hit a rock, and she was gone.

She was in the Countess's hands now.