I'm going to kill both of them, Tyler thought as she looked at herself in the mirror. And I'll take my time too. Somehow, both of them had decided to gang up on her with the designer of the wedding dresses, and forced her to stand in for the poor victim. If it had just been the two guys, she'd have kicked their asses from here to Japan with ease, but the old man was so entreatingly desperate that she felt bad for him. Of course, it also helped the designer offered to pay her for her troubles. He'd actually reached inside his coat, and pulled out wads of cash right then and there in the street. Tyler had nearly jumped on him to get him out and away from the prying eyes of both the public and the police. Who does that in a public place without worrying about getting mugged?

And so, she'd said yes, and found herself dressed up in such a lavishly decorated wedding dress that it must have been worth at least three mortgages on Hollywood mansions. It made her feel uncomfortable. She'd never been close to such kind of wealth in her entire life. And to be wearing it? She could never feel comfortable in this. Apparently the killed model had her own dressing room, which Tyler was really glad of; at least she didn't have be pushed and prodded into the dress with a handful of beautiful models looking at her and shaking their heads at her inexperience and plainness.

She'd even asked the designer why he couldn't just use one of the other models, but he'd snorted and said none matched the measurements of poor Penelope. She'd then asked him how he knew she did, and he just smirked and said he had an eye for that sort of thing. Ew.

The make-up artist had only just finished, and another woman came walking up to Tyler, her hands already making their way to her hair. Before she could help herself, Tyler's hand snaked out and grabbed the closest arm to her. The woman let out a yelp.

"I'm the hair stylist!" she said. Tyler released her arm, but stepped back.

"I'm sorry," Tyler said as she folded her arms, "I'm….I….I have thing about people touching my hair. It's….a condition."

The woman looked like she didn't believe her, and stepped forward again. "Well, listen here missy. If you want to be a model, you're just gonna have to get over it."

The condescending tone in her voice stung Tyler, and she stepped toward the hair stylist, looking down on her.

"I don't want to be a model. I am just doing your designer a favour. Now, this condition is something I've been struggling with since I was little, and if you cannot accept and respect that, I could always just…walk away. Do you think he's gonna get over that?"

The woman paled, and she stepped back. "I guess we can let it slide for today. Just…make sure your hair is out of your eyes and place the veil on top carefully."

That's what I thought. Tyler nodded at the hair stylist, and turned back to the mirror again. She heard the woman exit the room, but didn't turn around. Her reflection stared back at her, barely recognisable.

"Keanah would have rocked this dress," she said to herself.

"I dunno," it sounded from somewhere behind her, "From where I'm standing you are also rocking it."

Tyler prided herself that she didn't jump much, and turned to see Tommy standing in the doorway. She rolled her eyes and turned back to the mirror, once again trying to recognise herself in the stranger looking back at her. Tommy walked over, and stood behind her.

"I think you look beautiful."

"Because I don't look like myself," Tyler countered.

"In spite of not looking like you usually do," he replied. He turned her around, so she was facing him, and softly grabbed her by the chin. He inspected the make-up for a while, while Tyler was trying very hard not to let his closeness affect her. "Though I do agree that's a lot of make-up. But hey, that's the modelling world right?"

His hand went to her hair, and Tyler found herself surprised at the fact that she still had no problem with him touching her hair intimately after such a long time. They'd been high school sweethearts for a time, but after she broke it up, Tommy had actually moved away with his older brother to work at his uncle's business for the summer. He never returned. Tyler had always felt bad for that, as she had to see his mother almost every time she went out for groceries. The poor woman always talked about how much she missed Tommy, and how she would always consider Tyler her daughter, even though they were not together any more. Gloria was a sweet woman, and Tyler always made sure to go over and talk to her when she could.

As her eyes met Tommy's, she was transported back to that fateful night she broke it off with him. It was getting increasingly harder to keep her hunting from him, and he'd started asking questions about the bruises she sometimes came home with. It was such a hassle raising the kids after the general died, hunting, working, going to school, she just couldn't have anything else weigh on her mind.

So she broke it off, citing that he was too nice. He was going to stop saving to go to college to help her with the kids, giving up his dream of succeeding in hotel management, for her. That it wasn't right. That they were too young for him to tie himself down to one person. He'd been blindsided; which was what she'd been going for. Truth was, she didn't want him in her life, because it was such a dangerous one. Her experiences with the hunting community and the death of the General taught her that. And Tyler knew that she couldn't live with herself if he died because of her. Because of life he didn't know about, that he didn't ask for.

Tommy was closing the distance between them, and Tyler's breathing quickened. Her feelings for him had never gone. She'd just hidden them in the back of her mind, where they were quickly surrounded and pushed back by other thoughts and feelings as she lived her life. Tyler knew that if he were to kiss her, she would slip back into loving him again. She closed her eyes and breathed, "Tommy. I'm married."

That stopped him short. "Right," he said as he moved his hand from her hip – she hadn't even noticed. "Sorry."

"It's fine. Just…don't do it again," she managed to say. Tommy walked backward and smiled nervously.

"Still, you really look great. Go out and just put one foot in front of the other out there. Don't worry about the audience."

"Well, now I'm definitely going to worry," Tyler said with a grin. "But hey, it's just there and back on a catwalk. How hard can it be?"

"That's the Tyler I know. Break a leg. But not literally! That would be bad."

"Though it could really spice up the show," Tyler said, musingly. "People would talk about the show for years to come."

They smiled at each other, and Tommy cleared his throat. "I'mma go. I've secured Dean the best seat in the auditorium. He's gonna be one proud husband." A shadow fell over his face as he walked out.

Tyler pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration. Why'd I think playing newlyweds was going to be the best course of action? She went to put the veil on her head when she laid eyes on a small puddle of ectoplasm beneath the vanity.

Damn it. Ghosts it is.