"Blood. To be sure." Ruben inspected the small vial slotted into the charm.
"Blood?"
"Blood."
"Is there anything more specific?" Sam sounded frustrated.
"Boy, do I look like a scientist of any kind? What you see is what you get. Can't even tell you if it's animal or human. But my betting is: it's a kid's."
"It's a kid's what?" Jo pulled a face. "Kid's blood?"
"Yep."
"Man, that's completely feral. I mean, a kid? What the hell?"
"'Bout the only thing the studios got right in the big scheme of things." Ellen said. "The blood of a complete innocent is capable of doing some pretty heavy things."
"What sort of heavy things?"
"You know, binding links, curses, protection, opening doorways to other places."
"By 'other places' I'm guessing you don't mean across town?"
"Nope."
"Oh."
"I, for one, am surprised you haven't destroyed it yet."
Sam took the charm back from Ruben. "There's something not right about this." He said. "This thing doesn't look that old. So who's blood did she use? If I smash this, do I unleash the Reaper on someone who was innocent in this? A child?"
"So what do we do? Either Dean dies or someone else does."
Catch 22.
"Dean would say not to do it." Sam mused. "He would say that his life isn't as important as a kid's. He genuinely believes that."
"He also believes leather hotpants are still in, Revenge of the Cyclops People is one of the biggest movies of this century, and the computer is on it's way out." Jo frowned.
"So what do we do?"
"Excuse I? We? You pair never want anything to do with me unless you want to drop me into a potentially dangerous situation."
"Yeah, but you were always so willing. 'Specially if Dean flashed you that suggestive smile of his." Sam cocked an eyebrow at her. Jo's mouth tightened.
"I am so going to hit you."
"Kids." Ellen said warningly. The argument was nipped in the bud and the tension evaporated. "We haven't got time for this. I like a good bit of shouting as much as the next person, but we've got two lives hanging in the balance. Maybe more if we don't stop this… woman."
"Two? Oh, right." In the heat of the moment, Sam had almost forgot that there was a little girl in there with Dean, along for the ride. Mary Morgan. A ten-year-old girl thrust into the middle of an adventure that she might not make it back from.
Don't even think that. Of course they'll make it back.
Sam had lost track of how many times his brother swore he hated kids. Probably stemming from the time they were kids and he had been almost solely responsible for his brother's upbringing since he was around five or six, still a child himself. And to be perfectly honest, Sam was never exactly a model brother.
But he never got upset, never lost his temper. At least, not where the toddling Sam could see him. As he got older he found out how his big brother kept his rage in check.
The same way Dad did, beating the snot out of every evil thing between here and there.
"It's safe to assume Dean and the girl are in the same place." He said. "Dean wont let anything happen to her."
Sammy, you trust me and my hokey mojo, and I'll trust you and your black magic.
Ruben clapped his hands together, breaking everyone from their trances. "Let's get moving, then."
Mary's hand had slipped into his and she was squeezing so tightly that it would have probably cut off his circulation if he needed to worry about circulation. Dean looked down his nose at the Reaper, knowing that finally, finally, he had the upper hand.
"We can help you." He said, his voice carefully blank.
"Help me do what?" Alice narrowed her eyes, now more curious than menacing.
"Your boss or whatever is keeping you here. We can help you escape. Just let us go first. At least let the girl go." He fixed her with the Winchester stare, hard, dangerous and vulnerable all at once.
The Reaper grinned, then laughed. She giggled hysterically. "You want to make a deal with me! Boy, I thought you would have learned your lesson by now. Guess I was sure wrong."
Dean stiffened. "You know-?"
"I'm a Reaper, Dean. While us and the crossroads demons aren't exactly going to be sharing BFF bracelets anytime soon, I can tell you that both our lines of work fit neatly hand-in-hand." She raised a finger to her lips. "Gossip. Mundane, but useful if you know how and when to use it. You'd be surprised about what legends are going around about the Winchesters. Like children about a campfire."
Dean blinked, not knowing what unsettled him more. The fact that him and Sam and Dad were the subjects of gossip, nay, rumour deep south, or the fact that a bunch of demons regularly gathered around the satanic water cooler to bitch about their jobs.
She shrugged. "Word gets about. You boys are famous. B-uuut, of course, the Harvelles are swiftly catching up in the most-hated category. There are a few other families, but, really, you are the only ones of any consequence."
"What-?"
"Didn't darling little Jo ever tell you that Ellen and Bill hunted together? That's how they met. And Blondie herself is pretty good for a newbie. Ask her how many she's killed. Ask her how many enemies she has. Maybe then she'll earn a little respect in your eyes."
"I respect-"
"You don't even respect yourself, with the whoring and the boozing and that ever-present sense of self-loathing." The corner of her mouth lifted into a scornful sneer. "Always running, always alone. Reaching out your hand to touch but snatching it back at the last moment, afraid to be burned."
"You are such a sweet-talker." Dean replied dryly, but his mouth was completely dry. How long has she been watching us?
"Sarcasm." She cocked her head. "The lowest form of wit and, as always, your first defence. Tell me, why should I believe you would willingly help someone like me when you have been nothing but a hindrance to me and my kind?"
"You mean, 'cause like, I kill you and you kill me?" Dean shrugged. "Not seeing many options here. For either of us."
Mary was looking between them both with each exchange, long past the stage for puzzlement. Her eyes narrowed, and Dean knew that another wisecrack was not far off the horizon. And that the Reaper would probably tell them to get stuffed if Mary voiced her thoughts.
"You need us and we need you." He said softly, almost choking on the last word. His pride once again pricked uncomfortably. He didn't do deals with devils. He blew them away, dammit.
Alice stared at him with those big green eyes of hers. As she pondered his offer, she pursed her pouty red lips.
"How?" She finally said.
Good question.
Improvise, Dean. You're good at this.
"Not yet." He said firmly. "Let the girl go first."
"Dean, no-!"
"What makes you think I'll even consider something like that?"
Dean met her stare steadily. "Because if she's dead, her blood is null and void, and BOOM, the charm stops working. Dear old Death comes swooping down in his hooded cape swinging his scythe just for you."
He didn't know whether that was true or not, but hoped that because Alice had heard of his occult reputation he could bluff Mary's way out to safety. And then he could concentrate wholeheartedly on escaping himself and toasting this bitch.
"But-"
"Yes or no?"
"You-"
"Yes or no?"
Alice scowled. The troubled crease in her brow told him that she had fallen for his throwaway line. Let's face it, she had been just an ordinary human, and shortly after she became a Reaper, she was cast out of the fold. Therefore, she was easier to fool. Dean hoped.
"Yes." Alice nodded reluctantly.
"No!" Mary shouted. She punched him hard in the leg, trying to snap him to his senses. "You idiot. I'm not leaving you here with her."
"Mary-"
"No. We both get out. Together." There was a fierce loyalty to her words. He couldn't understand what he'd done to earn it.
Dean knelt down. Looked the girl in the eye. "Mary." He said, quashing the emotion that threatened to overwhelm his voice. "Go home. Live a long life. Forget this ever happened. Forget me. Be normal. It's better that way."
"What if I don't want to be normal?" There were tears in her eyes. "How do I do that when I know that nightmares are real? How do I get up every day and pretend that everything is the way it should be? I don't want you to die. You're my friend."
You're my friend.
"It is to vomit." The Reaper muttered.
He reached forward impulsively and wrapped her in a strong bear hug. "It's hard to pretend everything's normal when it isn't. Believe me, I've tried." He whispered in her ear. "You know what to do. I trust you"
And then she was gone, falling away from the Reaper, falling away from Harvelle's Bar, falling away from Dean. Everything got fuzzy and distant and though she fought to keep herself awake, in the end exhaustion won out.
She could hear the town clock. BONG. BONG. BONG. Eleven times. It was eleven o'clock at night. Her arm itched, and she automatically reached out to scratch it.
Mary's eyes snapped open. "Oh, jeez. What a nightmare." She reached out to flick on the bedside lamp, before realising that it wasn't there.
"What-?" She sat up.
This wasn't her room.
It was white and starched and clean. So clean that for a moment Mary wondered what sort of creepy world she woke up in this time. The smell of bleach burned the inside of her nose and made her sneeze.
She wiped her nose on the sleeve of her pyjamas. Something funky was going down. She slipped from underneath the harsh covers, and realised where she was. St Jerome's Hospital. She had been here a month before when she fell out of that tree and needed to get five stitches in her forehead.
Mary pulled on her pink, fluffy nightgown that had been folded neatly on a chair by the bed along with a fresh change of her clothes. There was a massive bouquet of lilies, her favourite flowers, on the dresser, a card with a puppy with a thermometer in its mouth tucked among the stems.
Get well soon, Mary. Love Mommy and Dad.
Mary stared at it, shocked and a little afraid as the meaning sank into her mind.
It wasn't a nightmare.
The Reaper Alice Summers, the ghosts, Harvelle's, the charm, blood. It was all real. It was all…
Dean.
Mary raised a hand to her mouth. She could have screamed, but no sound would have come out if she had tried. She'd left him there! Never before had she identified so much with an adult. He was a little bit lost, a little bit strange, like she was. She'd left him there, and… and…
He trusted her. He said she'd know what to do. Mary narrowed her eyes and paced across the floor for a moment. She could hear the hospital night staff singing carols down the hall and let out a sigh of relief.
It was still Christmas Eve! It felt like weeks since she was last able to touch things, hold them, dash them to the floor…
What do I do? "What do I do?" She repeated aloud.
I need help.
She was so tired. Her body was yelling at her, screaming at her to curl up and go back to sleep.
No! I've got to help Dean!
How can you help him when you can't even help yourself?
There's got to be a way…
Yeah, do what the man said, grow up and forget about all this junk. Maybe even one day you'll have your own sister or brother to watch out for.
That was it! Mary punched her fist into the air in triumph. Of course! Sam Winchester! But how…? There wasn't exactly much point in her and Dean swapping mobile numbers in that crazy limbo place, so how…? She forced herself to remember any detail that may lead her to Dean's little brother. Come on, girl. This is what you do. You're the freaky genius kid, remember.
There had been a phone in the back, an old wall phone that hardly anyone had any more. Although most of the creepy dudes that congregated around a place like that were bound to be ex-directory, the Bar must have had at least that one established landline if they were going to keep up the facade of being normal to everyone that weren't in on the big secret.
Façade of being normal. Oh, heck. What have I gotten into now?
Opening the door quietly, she peered down the corridor. A couple of paces down the hall was an empty administration desk, a few feet further was a public phone. The only problem was that the hospital staff seemed to be having their Christmas party only inches away in the next room. Mary audibly gulped.
Come on, you can do it. Time's running out. He trusted you.
She ran silently on bare feet down the hall, flinching away from any light source that was shone her way, thinking that she would be discovered at any moment. Reaching the phone, she lifted the local directory off the hook and flipped through to the H's.
"S & D Harlowe, Harvenne J, D Harley, Harvelle's Bar." Mary grinned, and ripped the page from the book, staring at the number. Her hands were shaking. It felt like she'd just found the Holy Grail.
Slowly she rose and punched in the number, jamming the page in the pocket of her dressing gown. Please, please, please…
"Harvelle's Bar."
"Uh, hi." She said, her voice suddenly higher and more girlish than ever. "Could I talk to Sam Winchester? Please?"
A/N – Out of curiosity, I've posted a poll on my profile page, where readers can vote for their favourite original female character from my stories and I can see how well they were received.
If you want, tell me how good or bad they were and why. All constructive criticism helps.