"Bloody Mary"

CONTENT WARNING: language and violence

It had been several months since Riley had left Lawrence. She had stopped counting the days a while back. The trio had already handled three cases, a Wendigo, a ghost and a demon that was hell-bent on crashing a plane. She still had a small cut on her forehead from taking a hit during the insane turbulence on the flight. Needless to say, the hunters had kept plenty busy.

Riley was sound asleep in the back of the car and Sam was in his own dreamland in the front seat, leaving Dean to drive. Shooting out of his sleep, Sam was shaking and left gasping for air.

It woke Riley and she lunged in his direction in a natural reflex to help. "Are you ok?"

"Yeah…bad dream I guess." He tried to compose himself.

Dean glanced at Sam. "You've been having a lot of those lately."

She pulled herself against the seat next to his head. She could hear the trembling in his voice. He was terrified. "It's ok, Sam. I have them too," she said laying a hand on his shoulder. It was the only comfort she could give. As they connected, a wave of heartbreak and shame ran through her. It was enough to nearly knock her back. It took everything she had not to sob from the pain. A tear escaped her eyes and rolled down her cheek. She quickly wiped it away, hoping they didn't see.

"I miss her so much."

She had watched Sam's face, and his lips had never moved. "This can't be happening," she thought. It had been happening more and more ever since that day with Aunt Deb in the diner. "Reading people's thoughts? I'm not telepathic. What the fuck is going on? …am I going crazy?"

"I was actually gonna bring that up, Riley. I just didn't know how. Even in the next room, I can hear you crying in your sleep. You both have got to try to relax. I hate seeing you guys like this." Dean tried to focus on the road ahead. He had been worried about them both for weeks.

He pulled into a gas station to fill up. "I'll grab the snacks," Sam said as he hopped out of the car and headed to the small convenience shop. His hands were in his pockets and his head hung low.

Riley knew what all that was about. She and Sam had become so close and told each other practically everything. In their first week together, after a couple beers, Sam finally told her about Jessica. His heart broke all over again telling Riley how he lost the love of his life.

She laid her arms on top of the front seat and rested her head on them. "Dean, I'm worried about him."

He sighed while watching his little brother through the store windows. "I know. I just don't know how to help him, you know?"

"I don't think you can."

Dean turned his head towards her, and a look of empathy and understanding was staring back at him. Looking into her eyes was like watching the ocean, tranquil and inviting. His heart ached a little less from that look alone. "I know," he said as he closed his eyes, trying to make peace with the fact that he couldn't fix this for Sam.

"You're a good brother, Dean." She leaned in and gave him a gentle kiss. It was enough to soften the worry on his face. She smiled. "I'll be right back." Riley got out and jogged over to the restroom. He never took his eyes off her just as he always did, taking in every movement she made.

Dean got out and paid at the pump with a fake credit card under the name 'Mark Smith'. A cool breeze blew against him, and he shivered. He popped up his jacket collar and nuzzled into it. As he began to fuel up Baby, Sam came back, a bag of snacks and drinks in hand.

He threw the plastic bag on the front seat and leaned up against the car. Opening his new water, he looked at his brother. "So, what's going on with you guys? Are you dating? Are you together…?" Sam knew there was no easing into this conversation.

"Actually, I don't know what we are. I just know I like her–a lot. She makes me happy–happier than I have been in a long time. The label doesn't really matter, ya know? As long as I'm with her, I'm good."

Sam was happy for his brother. He had never seen him bond with a girl the way he had been with Riley. The playboy he knew was falling for his friend…hard. He could read it on his face. Then sadness swept back through him. That was what Jess was for him, she was his everything. He would give anything to hold her one more time, to tell her how much he loved her.

As they all get back in the car, Sam changed the subject to push the pain aside if only for a brief moment. "Alright, so we got a case. Toledo, Ohio. Daughter finds her dad dead on the floor of the bathroom, covered in blood that had all drained from his eyes. And get this, they were almost completely liquidated."

Dean made a face of utter disgust. "Well, that's lovely. No sign of a struggle?"

"Nope. And no evidence whatsoever. No fingerprints, DNA, witnesses…nothing."

"Well, it sounds like we're going to Toledo," Riley added.

The engine revved. Riley reached over the seat to grab a bag of chips out of the snack bag as they pulled out of the station.

Riley, Sam, and Dean walked into the coroner's office. Dean tried to muster up a good excuse for the coroner's assistant to let them see the body. After they failed to get by while claiming they were med students, Sam decided to butt in. He handed the guy $100 and the assistant nodded towards the door for them to follow him.

"Dude. I earned that money," Dean barked.

Sam scoffed, "…at a poker game."

"Uh…yeah!"

Riley stifled a laugh and rubbed Dean's arm. Consoling his 'great loss' as they walked into the examination room. "Aww, I'll help you earn it back. I'm probably better than you at pool anyways." He looked down at her and playfully mocked her words.

The room was cold and medical; it reeked of death. No matter how many years on the job, it's never a smell someone could ever get used to. A harsh fluorescent light hung above the room. Even covered in bright light, the room still would send a chill of discomfort up anyone's spine.

The assistant examined the labels on the many drawers on the wall and pulled the handle of one out toward him. A metal clunk came from the drawer as it extended completely. The group gathered around the slab as the assistant pulled back the sheet. Mr. Shoemaker's hollowed out, melted eyes seemed to stare back at them.

"Official cause of death was an aneurysm. Doc thinks it may have been a stroke."

"Really?" Dean said in disbelief. "You ever seen a stroke that made someone's eyes explode?" He looked down at the body looking for clues.

"We're gonna need to see the police report." Riley leaned in also get a closer look herself, feeding her morbid fascination.

The assistant shook his head. "I'm not supposed to show you that."

Riley looked up at him and bat her lashes. "You know," she said slowly walking towards him. "It would mean a lot to me if you could help us out. We have a paper due next week and it's half our grade. I can't afford to not pass this class. Could you just show it to us for a couple minutes? It would mean so much to me. Please?" She placed a hand gently on his arm and he swallowed hard.

"I–I guess it would be ok for just a few minutes."

"I seriously can't thank you enough." Riley slid her hand softly down his arm pulling away.

Dean's eyes grew and he stared at Sam, a look of 'what the fuck' written all over his face. The assistant walked away, stumbling as he went.

"See boys? Just gotta know how to ask nicely." She winked and went back to examining the body.

The Shoemaker home was filled with mourning friends and family. It was warm and inviting even with the grief that filled the room. Everyone dressed in black evening wear.

Dean looked at his partners. "I think we're a little underdressed."

Walking respectfully through the family room, they found their way to the backyard. Mr. Shoemaker's teenage daughter was sitting on a wooden bench that laid on the edge of the grass on the stone patio. She was crying, her friends trying to console her. She had short brown hair that flipped up at the bottom and was in a black dress that stopped at her knees.

As they walked closer, Riley began to feel the emotions and hurt that radiated from her.

"Hi, I'm Sam. This is my brother Dean and our friend, Riley. We're sorry to hear about your dad. We knew him through work."

"We're so sorry to bother you," Riley added. "We heard it was a stroke. Did your dad ever talk about having any symptoms? Headaches or anything like that?"

"No–never. Dad was always really healthy. I just don't understand." Mr. Shoemaker's eldest daughter, Donna, muffled her cries. She wiped her face with the bundled Kleenex in her hand.

"It was Bloody Mary," a small voice to the side said. "Before he died, I said 'Bloody Mary' three times. It's my fault–she takes your eyes. That's what she did to my dad." The youngest Shoemaker, Lily, was no more than seven. She had long dark blonde hair that fell over her shoulders, half up in a bow. Tears welled up in her eyes.

The hunters looked at each other, trying not to look too conspicuous.

Dean knelt down next to Lily. "Hey. It wasn't your fault, ok? Bad things just happen sometimes. You can't blame yourself when you've done nothing wrong."

She looked at him and slowly nodded her head, trying to believe the words of the kind stranger.

Riley watched as Dean consoled the little girl. She could feel his sincerity with Lily. After practically raising Sam, he was always great with kids. Before he stood, he took her hand and cupped it in his, giving her a little smile.

"Thank you for your time. Again, I'm so sorry for your loss." Sam gave a look to the others and they walked back into the house.

Sneaking up the stairs, they found the hallway bathroom. Upon opening the door, bloodstains scattered all over the floor. Even after a thorough clean, the tile remained stained by the blood of Mr. Shoemaker. The color reflected the horrors that happened in the room only a few nights before.

"I don't get it," Riley said walking towards the mirror. "Everyone plays 'Bloody Mary'. Nothing ever happens? Why now?"

Dean crouched to the floor to get a better look at the blood splatter patterns. "I don't know. Maybe everywhere else it's just a story. Maybe here, it's actually real. The legend may have started here."

"But it just doesn't add up. Bloody Mary only goes after the ones that summon her. Legend goes, you say her name three times and she scratches your eyes out." Sam took a closer look at the mirror but found nothing.

"Well, looks like it's time to find proof of the actual legend. Who's up for a day of research?" Riley gave Dean a look knowing how much he hated it. His eyes rolled and his head fell back as a groan escaped his throat.

Back at the motel, everyone was working through everything they could find. There was little to no information on Bloody Mary and her connection to the town. Dean sat in a chair propped up against the window, his boots crossed over each other on the chair in front of him. He was rubbing his temple trying to be patient as he read the book in his lap.

"Well, I got nothing. There have been a few women who committed suicide in their bathrooms, but none named Mary. Oh, and a guy had a mirror fall on him." He feigned a gasp. "Maybe…we're looking for Bloody Martin." His eyebrows raised and a look of mischief on his face. He was too pleased with his pun.

Riley rolled her eyes with a smile. She was sitting on the floor, papers and books spread around her as she examined everything, her glasses helping her tired eyes focus on the task at hand.

"God, this sucks. Of course, the library's computers were down. And how the hell am I supposed to focus with her looking like that?"

Riley looked up thinking she heard Dean speak. He quickly went back to his book, pretending he hadn't been staring. She softly smiled, knowing he was thinking about her.

The phone rang and Sam got up from his spot on the bed against the headboard to grab it from the small side table. "Hello?" He listened for a while and his face fell as the conversation went on. "Ok, uh–thanks." He ended the call and looked over at Riley and Dean. "…a girl is dead."

Riley stood in the corner of a cheap motel room. The wallpaper was a terrible green patterned print and the bedding looked worn and uninviting. A wooden pillar stood between her and the rest of the room.

"Have I been here before?" she thought.

"Hello?" a concerned voice echoed from outside the room.

Riley turned to look at the door. A man walked in the already ajar door, holding beer and take out food. Putting all the contents he was carrying onto the small table by the door, he peeked in with trepidation.

"…dad?" Riley stepped further into the room, desperate to see more.

Jackson Munroe. He had dark brown hair that he could run his fingers through and soft blue eyes. They were hypnotic. He was tall and broad and his muscles sat snug underneath his shirt.

His eyes moved to the main room and he slowly stepped forward. There was blood everywhere. Some had even splattered onto the mirror on the large wooden dresser and across the wall. His heart sank in his chest and his voice was soft with fear. "Riley…?" That was when he saw her boots on the floor jutting out from the other side of the bed.

"No!" With a guttural scream, he ran to her side and threw himself beside her. Riley's face was vacant and pale. Her eyes were barely open and her head was turned facing the side of the bed. Her throat had been slit…deep. The slaying was so brutal, it was enough to make anyone sick. Jackson scooped his little girl's lifeless body from the pool of blood and into his arms as he sobbed uncontrollably.

He cradled her and pushed her hair out of her face so he could see his 'baby girl'. Even in death, she was beautiful.

"Oh, honey. No. Baby, no. Come back to me. Don't leave me, Riley! I need you."

His scream-like sobs filled the room. The pain so real, it sounded as though he himself was dying.

"Dad!" Riley shot up out of bed wide awake. Tears were running down her vacant face and she had sweat down her back. She was in her motel room. It was silent and the light from the parking lot only illuminated a small part of the room. Riley grabbed her throat and looked down to check her hands for blood.

It was always the same dream and had been happening ever since she had lost her dad. No dream had ever been more clear or real and she feared sleep for that very reason. The monsters in her waking moments never brought her the pain she felt from her father in that dream.

Dean came in from the adjoining room, concern written all over his face. "Hey, you ok?"

She wiped the tears from her face before turning to him and cleared her throat. "Yeah. Damn nightmare again."

"Ok, well…I'm right next door if you need anything." He hesitated before leaving, wanting to make sure she was ok. Riley never really could hide her emotions from him.

"Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"Would it be ok if you slept with me? I know that sounds stupid, but Finn usually helps keep the dreams at bay and without him–"

"No need to explain. I'm here." He walked over to her in his sweats and a black t-shirt, his feet shuffling on the carpet in a sleepy drag.

Riley lifted the sheets and scooted over, making room for him. He got into the bed and laid on his back with one arm stretched out and the other bent under his head. Laying on her side, she pulled the blankets over them as she rested her head on Dean's warm chest. Her arm wrapped around his torso and she could feel the oxygen returning to her lungs. And within minutes, her heart rate slowed as she lost herself in his warmth.

Dean softly played with her hair as he inhaled that blissful smell that she always had. "Do you wanna talk about it?"

Riley took a deep breath and exhaled. "It's just always the same dream over and over. I watch my dad find my body after being brutally murdered. He's holding me and screaming, begging for me to come back to him."

He could hear the heartbreak in her voice and all he wanted was to take away her pain. "It was just a dream. You're safe. You're here."

"…but he isn't." Another tear silently slid down her cheek.

He stopped to think before he spoke again. "Hey, I get it. I wake up in a cold sweat a lot, having to remind myself what's real and what isn't. Most of the time? They're about the people that I've lost or the ones that I could lose. The thought of losing Sam, or dad, or you…I just–all I'm saying is, you're not alone in this."

"Thank you, Dean." If only he knew how much his words meant to her. She knew though that these weren't like normal nightmares, those she was always prepared for those. These dreams took on a life of their own. It had her constantly wondering why they haunted her and what it all meant.

"Listen, I'll stay with you. Get some sleep."

She nuzzled into him and closed her eyes. She couldn't remember the last time she felt so safe. Dean kissed her forehead and rested his head on the pillow, taking his other arm and wrapping it around her. He didn't care that nothing more would happen that night. To him, that was heaven. He hated that she was hurting and scared, but he would always be there to slay her monsters.

Her breathing changed and he could tell she was already sound asleep. A smile grew on his face. "Goodnight, sweetheart."

The next morning, the team went to the house of the murdered girl. It was a quiet house on a 'cookie cutter street'. They gently climbed the trellis against the house with vines grown around it. Getting up to the roof landing, Dean pulled up the window on the second floor. He crawled into the dead teen's bedroom, the other two followed in after him. The funeral was going on across town, so no one was home.

The room looked like any other teenage girl's. There were posters of boy bands and pictures of her friends littered across the wall. She had strung lights around the ceiling of the room that softly twinkled.

Dean put their equipment down on the soft white bed next to the lace pillow covers. He pulled out an EMF detector and went to work. It wasn't finding anything. Sam grabbed a video camera and switched it to night vision mode while facing Dean.

The older brother used a ridiculous seducing face as he looked over his shoulder to face at the camera and he pursed his lips. "I'm ready for my close up Mr. DeMille." Sam shook his head and walked towards the bathroom.

Examining the room, Riley found nothing out of place. No sign of a struggle whatsoever. She picked up a picture off the desk of the teen and her family. Like a bolt of lightning, sadness ripped through her. She felt as though she was mourning someone she loved. It was making her hurt more with every passing second. She quickly put the frame back where she found it and went back to studying the room.

"Alright, Mary. How are you choosing your victims?" Sam closed in on the bathroom mirror with the camera. Through the night vision, he could see something dripping out from under the mirror. He put down the camera, grabbed the mirror off the hook on the wall and brought it to the bed. Flipping it over and tearing the back of the mirror open, he asked Dean to hand him the blacklight from the bag. Names appeared as he ran the light over the ripped backing. "Gary Bryman and Linda Shoemaker."

"Wait, Linda Shoemaker? That's the dead guy's wife. She died a while ago." Riley ran her hand over the names and felt immense fear and sadness consuming her. She yanked away from it, not wanting to feel it anymore. The brothers watched her jump for no obvious reason but decided it best to leave it alone.

"Well," Riley started, "Gary Bryman was an 8-year-old boy. He died a year ago from a hit and run. The driver was never found. But, the description of the car matched the one that the dead teenager drove."

"Huh. Wait a minute. What if Mr. Shoemaker was responsible for his wife's death? What if it wasn't an overdose, but a poisoning?" Dean added while he cleaned his gun at the motel room table.

Sam had a realization. "It's said that mirrors can reflect your soul. They show your secrets and lies. Hence, why it's back luck to break them. What if Mary is punishing those whose secrets revolve around a death?"

The three looked at each other knowing they were on to something.

"Alright, well I'm gonna hit the shower." Riley got up and stretched as she began to head for the bathroom. "I can't promise there will be any hot water left when I'm done."

The door closed and a few seconds later, the shower was on. Knowing that she couldn't hear them, Sam knew that was his moment to get answers. He closed his book and turned to his brother.

"So…you weren't in your bed this morning," he teased.

"Yeah. She had a nightmare last night. I could hear her and it woke me up, so I went to check on her. She didn't wanna be alone, so I stayed with her." Sam's eyes widened and a playful grin grew on his face. "It wasn't like that. Nothing happened," Dean rebutted. "She just needed a friend. I think she really misses that mutt of hers too."

"So, is that what you see her as? A friend?"

Dean groaned. "No…I mean, yes. She's become one of the closest friends I've ever had over the last few weeks."

"…but?"

He sighed. "But yeah, there's something more there–a lot more. I don't wanna push it on her though. Things are going fine and they'll progress the way they should. We're taking it slow. The last thing I need is to scare her off by telling her that I'm crazy about her."

"You are?" Sam smiled and felt pretty good about himself for calling that one.

Dean suddenly realized what he said. "Yeah…I guess I am." He had never felt that way about anyone before. Riley was stealing his heart one day at a time and there was no stopping it. A look of acceptance and love ran over his face. He went back to cleaning his gun and Sam returned to his book.

Riley's head popped out from the door, her body hiding behind it. "Alright, which one of you took the last towel?"

Later that night, Sam had fallen into a deep sleep and Dean lied awake in bed, his thoughts racing about their earlier conversation.

A soft melody was coming from the connecting room. Throwing the blankets off and moving his legs over the side of the bed, he stood to walk towards the sound. The door was cracked open as he peered in. Dean pushed it further as the dim light from the room spread over his face.

Riley was sitting faced away from him on her bed, crossed-legged as always. Her guitar rested on her knee as the neck of it was in her left hand. She was in a hoodie, her long hair falling down over her back. He always loved that her auburn-red hair reflected her fiery spirit.

She strummed to a beautiful rendition of Lynyrd Skynyrd's 'Simple Man', as she sang along to it in perfect harmony.

Dean was in a trance. He usually hated covers of his favorite bands but hung on her every note and pick of the guitar. It was gentle and soothing. He melted and a calm rushed over him. Somehow, she always seemed to look even more beautiful than the day before.

"This woman couldn't be more perfect if I dreamt her up myself."

Riley stopped and turned to face him after hearing his thoughts. He froze thinking he had made a noise to give himself away.

She smiled at him and pat the spot on the bed next to hear. As he sat down, Sam's snores could lightly be heard from the other room. They quietly laughed and Dean shook his head.

"So you were spying on me huh?" she asked with a brow raised trying to mess with him.

"Oh, you didn't know by now? I'm a total creep."

She let out a breathy laugh. "Should have known."

"Not gonna lie, that song was amazing, Riley. You did Skynyrd proud."

She blushed. "Nah, still a work in progress."

"You know, you don't give yourself enough credit. I'm starting to wonder if there's anything you can't do."

Riley turned and stood the guitar on the base of its body, leaning it against the side table. She turned to face him and took his hand, interlacing their fingers. Meeting each other's gaze, their eyes darted back and forth. They found themselves enthralled in one another.

"You make me nervous," he admitted to her with a shy chortle.

She chuckled. "I'm glad it's not just me."

"Definitely not, sweetheart."

They leaned in, their lips finding the others. He pulled her closer and she wrapped her arms around him. As the tension grew between them, he picked her up and put her in his lap and her legs went around him. They couldn't get enough of each other but still didn't push to go any further.

Dean kissed her neck slowly in the soft spot under her ear and on her jawline. Looking back up at her he knew, he was a goner; Riley was stealing his heart.

Their foreheads came together and Riley rubbed the back of his head gently as his hair brushed against her fingers. His hands ran up and down her back in loving motions.

"Dean?…is this real? Whatever's going on between us, I mean."

He looked back at her and held her chin in his hand. "Oh, honey. This is as real as it gets."

She felt his heart against her chest and breathed him in. Being in his arms was her favorite place to be. Moments with him passed too quickly but still felt frozen in time. She kissed him again, deep. "Stay with me again tonight?"

"I'll never say no to that."

Dean picked her up and brought her down on the bed with him. They laid side by side facing each other, their foreheads resting together once. again. His arms were wrapped around her and her hands clung at his sides, their legs intertwined.

After a moment of silence, Dean found the courage to speak and whispered, "It's you and me, kid. I'm in this for the long haul."

She turned her eyes to meet his. "I'm gonna hold you to that, Winchester."

He kissed her again and then pulled her into his chest. They both soaked each other in and their eyes closed.

Dean felt himself melt into the bed with a feeling of utter contentment. Finally, he knew that what he had found was something he never even dreamed he could have.

They both fell into a blissful sleep. There would be no nightmares that night for either of them. As long as they were together, they would keep each other safe.

Inside the police station, they were able to get the sergeant to speak with them. They asked if any 'Mary's', beyond the immediate town, had been slain in the same way in front of a mirror.

"There was one case years back that I never could solve. A young woman by the name of Mary Worthington died up in my old stomping grounds in Fort Worth, Indiana. But that's pretty far out. Her eyes had been cut out, almost surgically. I always thought it was a guy named Trevor Sampson–a doctor. She was having an affair with him and was going to reveal their secret to his wife. I think he killed her to stop that from happening. He's dead now."

"Where is Mary buried, Sergeant?" Riley asked.

"She wasn't. She was cremated."

Sam stepped towards the desk. "Did the family happen to keep the mirror from Mary's bathroom where she died?"

"As a matter of fact, yes," he said with surprise in his voice. "They just sold it to an antique store here in Toledo, a week ago. What are the odds you would ask about that?"

"Thank you for your time, sir." Dean and the others turned to leave the station. "We know that mirrors are said to capture spirits. I say we find it and smash the crap out of it."

"That means we gotta pin her to the mirror. She has to be summoned," Riley said reluctantly.

Sam took a deep breath. "I'll do it. She'll come after me."

Annoyed by his brother's response, Dean grabbed him and pulled him to the side. He pushed Sam's back against the hallway wall next to the exit. "Is this about Jessica? Are you thinking she'll come after you because you're responsible for Jess' death? Dude, that's bullshit and you know it."

"You don't know everything Dean. And right now? I can't tell you or it won't be a secret and the plan won't work. So don't push it…please."

Riley jumped in, "I don't like it Sam. This could end bad."

"You guys gotta let me do this." Sam's eyes were pleading for them to understand. The two looked at each other fearing the worst.

Dean walked ahead, his hands in his jacket pockets. His face was full of frustration and concern. He hated his brother's plan.

"Sammy's putting himself in danger for no goddamn reason." He didn't know if he could protect his brother if he was going to do something stupid.

Sam's arm wrapped around Riley as he pulled her in for a hug. She smiled as she closed her eyes and squeezed him in return. Her head laid against his chest, which was covered by the soft gray shirt under his jacket. His chin rested on her head as they stood in silence for a few seconds. Sam released her just enough to look down at her.

"I don't know what it is, but I feel connected to you…like you understand me."

"More than you know, Winchester," she thought.

"You've become so important to me–to both of us. You're family. I can't imagine us not all being together. It just feels right, you know?" He hugged her tightly again. "You know I love you, right?"

"I love you both…so much," she spoke into his chest.

He closed his eyes tightly and kissed the top of her head. "Let's go."

They walked down the long strip of concrete steps leading down to the street from the entrance. Dean was already in the car ready to go. He had music playing, his brow furrowed.

"Let's get this shit over with already."

It was close to midnight. All the shops had already closed and the street was empty. Parking the Impala a block or so away, in a nearby alley, Riley and the boys snuck up to the antique store. The street lights were dim, and it seemed as though the bulbs were on their last legs. Dean took a moment to appreciate the city's lack of care to fix things. It definitely worked in their favor.

Riley put her hands to the glass in an attempt to see inside, her black hoodie under her jacket caved over her face. It was too dark to see much of anything.

Sam knelt down at the door and picked the lock while Dean kept a lookout. The door opened and they went inside, quiet to shut the door behind them.

They turned on their flashlights and looked around the shop. The entire place covered in mirrors. Their search was not going to be an easy find.

"Awesome," said Dean in sarcasm.

They studied the printed picture of the mirror from Mary's crime scene photos. It was large, surrounded by a flourished frame in a darkened and faded brassy color. They split up to cover more ground. Dean stayed to the front of the shop, Riley to the back and Sam ventured into the storage area.

As Sam walked in the darkness, he pushed a hanging plastic barrier out of his way. He shined his flashlight to check each mirror. The light bounced back and forth as it danced in the reflections of the many mirrors. He had almost given up on finding it. Finally, he turned and saw Mary's mirror. An unsettling feeling radiated from it. "I found it!"

Lights from a patrol car shined into the shop. "Shit. We must have tripped the alarm coming in. I'll go handle it." Dean turned off his light and walked towards the entrance. Opening the door, he stepped out. "Hello, officer. Sorry, I'm the owner's son. I came in to do some late work and I must have tripped the alarm."

"You're Mr. Yamashiro's kid?" the officer asked accusingly.

"…I'm adopted?"

"Alright, you're gonna have to come with me." The cop went to take Dean's wrists.

"Man, I didn't wanna have to do this." He turned and punched the man square in the face, sending him to the concrete, unconscious. Dean shook his fist as it stung from the blow. "Sorry, buddy."

Back in the store, Riley saw Sam staring into the mirror and slowly walked closer. He took a deep breath, looked into his reflection and spoke. "Bloody Mary…Bloody Mary…" He hesitated. "Bloody Mary." Ready with crowbars in their hands, they waited for Mary to appear.

"Sam, swing at anything that moves."

They were on edge. Sam stared down the mirror and Riley scanned over them all. She could feel the rage that reached out from the original mirror. It scared her in a way she'd never experienced before. The energy was strong and ran through her like a current. The spirit was twisted and evil after her incredible suffering. It made Riley sick to her stomach.

Suddenly, Sam's reflection changed. It was him, but it wasn't. A grin grew on the reflection's face and a voice that only Sam could hear slithered out at him. "It's all your fault. You killed Jessica. You're why she's dead." Sam watched as it spoke to him, breaking his heart with every word. Riley could feel his pain and she clutched at her chest trying to catch her breath. "You had dreams of it happening for days leading up to her death. You said nothing. You killed her."

"I know. It's my fault". Sam's eyes began to bleed and dark veins were protruding from his face. It felt as though his insides were being ripped apart. He fell to his knees groaning in agony. "I deserve this."

"Sam, no!" Riley rushed to the different mirrors showing the creature's reflection. She smashed every one of them with all her might. The spirit finally appeared in the original mirror and Riley rushed to break it, sending shards of glass everywhere. She covered her face and when the glass fell, she ran to Sam's side as Dean rushed back in.

"Sammy! Are you ok?" Dean slid into his little brother, his eyes scanning him for more injuries.

"Yeah, I'm good."

As they helped pull him up off the ground, a snarling sound came from in front of them. Riley picked up her flashlight and aimed it at the broken mirror. A hand darted out from the frame. Slowly, something began to crawl out of the broken mirror. Its skin looked dead and decayed and its hair was long and black, draped over her face. She was twitching violently with every move and began to crawl towards them, her tattered and dirty white nightgown dragging with her. She moved faster and faster in their direction as her anger grew. Blood dripped from all three of the hunters' eyes and pain beyond words strangled them from the inside. They fell to the floor groaning and straining to muffle their cries. The evil creature stopped in front of them as she waited to watch them die.

Dean grabbed the mirror beside him and raised it to face Mary. She stood up and her body calmed. Her hair split from her face, revealing a sad and broken woman. She looked at herself and a voice echoed. "It's your fault. You killed them all." Mary's eyes began to bleed and it seemed as though she was slowly melting away. As fast as the shift started, she suddenly broke into tiny pieces of glass that scattered on the floor.

Dean looked at the room of shattered mirrors and the glass that had sprinkled everywhere. "That's gotta be, what? 600 years bad luck?"

Back in the car as they drove out of town, Dean couldn't help but remember Sam's comment. He had secrets about what had happened with Jess. It was driving him crazy. "So, now that it's all over, what don't I know about what happened, Sammy?" Riley listened with intent waiting for his reply.

"Look, I love you both. Some things…I just have to keep to myself." They both tried to accept his answer and let it go for now.

Riley had a moment where she felt Sam's emotions again. There was a deafening emptiness. She could hear him think about how he thought he saw Jess on the corner of the road, looking at him as they drove by. She was wearing the same nightgown she was wearing the last time he saw her as her long blonde hair blew in the breeze.

Sam was wishing and aching for her to really be there and he had to remind himself that it was only wishful thinking.

Guilt for not telling the boys about her own secret was killing Riley. She needed more time. Until she knew why this was happening to her, she didn't want to worry them.

Riley already loved Sam and Dean. They were her partners and she was so proud to be a part of their family. Sam was beginning to feel like the brother she never had. She wanted to protect him and to find a way to ease his broken heart. Knowing the pain he was in kept her up at night. She remembered their conversation about how 'she understood him'. Maybe he already knew her secret.

Her thoughts then fell on Dean. She looked over at him and he quickly peered over to her while trying to pay attention to the road. He reached for her and she scooted to his side. Riley felt his warmth like a blanket on a cold night and it soothed her soul. He kissed the top of her head and pulled her close.

"How does she do this to me? I think I'm falling for this girl." Dean smiled down at her again before locking eyes on the highway ahead.

Riley's stomach did a somersault and she could feel his affection seeping into her skin. Everything he was thinking was completely genuine. She could feel it in her bones.

It was happening–Riley was falling for Dean too, and the thought made her nervous with every fiber of her being. Slowly, that feeling passed and all she could feel was peace. That's what he did to her. He was her compass, guiding her towards something she never thought she could have.

And Riley would follow him anywhere.