Ahhhhhhh! I finally updated! It seems kind of unreal.

Okay, guys so I was rereading the first four chapters 'cause I was bored and had nothing better to do, and I realized that I had aged Lexi as twenty and Sam as twenty-two, but that's not right since Sam was a sophomore in college, so I re-aged them and now Lexi is 18, Sam is 20, and Dean is 24. Other than that, everything else is still the same. I know I have abandoned you all and honestly, that is unacceptable. I remember saying that I was going to try to upload a lot of chapters before last September finished and well…sorreh.

Now on with the story…

I finished school so I have nothing to do other than this story.

Review because I love it when you do that. (im slickly not gonna mention how I so don't deserve that).

Beta: If one of you thinks he or she is up for the job, let me know!

Disclaimer: Not mine.

Enjoy! :D

It was the shuffling that alerted us at first; he kept fidgeting and moving around throughout his sleep. I shared a look with my brother before we looked back over at him. He kept moving his head from side to side, like someone trying to deny or shake something off his mind. But even through all that, Dean and I let him sleep because we knew that he needed it. Soon, however, it got to be too much, the tiny whimpers and the faint calling. But even then when I moved to wake him up, Dean stopped me, saying he needed his sleep.

Dean parked the car once we reached wherever we were supposed to reach. In the passenger seat however, Sam was still having his nightmare and it was our breaking point when he shouted "No," so Dean slapped his hand against his shoulder, waking Sam up from his nightmare. "Sam, wake up!"

Sam jumped up, waking from his nightmare panting heavily. It took him a couple of minutes of looking around with wide eyes for him to gather that we had arrived in the town of our new case. I leaned from the backseat staring at Sam and ran my hands through his hair. That seemed to calm him down. "I take it I was having a nightmare," Sam said.

Dean looked away, "Yeah, another one." I sighed knowing that Sam didn't have to tell us about whom, we all already knew it was about Jessica, they were all about her.

"Hey, at least I got some sleep," Sam tried to joke but no one laughed.

"You know, sooner or later we're gonna have to talk about this," Dean said. I raised my eyebrows at him, since when does Dean talk?

But Sam ignored him all together, instead choosing to change the subject. "Are we here?" He asked us.

"Yup, welcome to Toledo, Ohio." Dean said.

Sam held up a newspaper and I read over his shoulder again the part that I had circled a few days ago marking our destination. A picture of a man was there with a short paragraph under it that told us the story: Shoemaker, Steven. The Shoemaker family is sad to announce the sudden death of their beloved husband and father Steven Shoemaker. Steven was 46. A short service will be held on Wednesday, January 31—which is today—at 2:00 pm. at the Toledo blah blah blah, the rest already memorized in my brain.

"So what do you think really happened to him?" Sam asked us.

"That's what we're gonna find out," Dean said as he put dad's journal and a couple of other things in the backseat next to me, and then opening the door. "Let's go." Sam also got out and I followed them stepping out into the warm sun. We closed the doors and we all walked towards the building.

We climbed up the steps and entered the dark building. There was a lady sitting on a desk and Dean went to ask her where Steven Shoemaker's body was.

"Morgue 144," she answered him without even bothering to look up. She pointed her hand vaguely where it was and got back to whatever she was doing. We went up the stairs and then walked down a long, dark hallway filled with the scent of that substance they used to preserve a body.

I saw Dean and Sam go inside a big room that said 'Morgue 144' and we were met with an average looking guy sitting on a desk in the middle of the room. We passed an empty desk that had a name tag that said 'Dr. D. Feiklowicz' and I saw Dean scowl at the name, probably upset on not knowing how to read it.

We stopped at the other guy's desk.

"Hey." He said.

"Hey." Dean said back with a big smile.

"Can I help you?" The guy said with no smile.

Dean glanced at us then turned back to the guy, "Yeah. We're the uh, med students."

"Sorry?"

Dean pointed at the empty desk, "Oh Doctor…F-Figl-lavitch didn't tell you?" He said as I cringed inwardly at the completely wrong pronunciation. "We talked to him on the phone. We uh…we're from Ohio State. He's supposed to show us the Shoemaker corpse. It's for our paper." Sam and I looked at him, nodding along with the lie.

"Well, I'm sorry, he's at lunch," the guy said looking not sorry at all.

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

"Sorry, I can't. Doc will be back in an hour, you can wait for him if you want," he said.

"An hour?" Dean sucked in a breath through his teeth. "Ooh. We gotta be heading back to Columbus by then," Dean said as looked at us for confirmation.

"Yeah," I said.

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

The man interrupted Dean before he could finish, though, "Oh look man, no."

Dean let out a laugh, but it was that laugh that Dean let out when he was trying to not punch someone. He turned around and mumbled, "I'm gonna hit him in his face, I swear." Sam and I quickly jumped in not wanting to turn this into a fight. We didn't have the time. Sam slapped Dean's shoulder telling him silently to 'calm down' and I wrapped my arm around his waist knowing Dean wouldn't risk punching someone with me that close.

I looked at Sam as he looked at the guy, getting out his wallet and pulling a few twenties out of it. He held them up in front of the guy then threw them down on the desk. Dean let out a huff of breath angrily. The man took the money, folding them. "Follow me," he said more than happy to show us the corpse now. I narrowed my eyes at him.

The guy stood and walked away, Sam and I moving to follow him when Dean grabbed Sam from his shoulder spinning him around.

"Dude, I earned that money," Dean said irritably.

"You won it in a poker game," Sam retorted walking away.

"Yeah." Dean said like that was exactly his point.

"Come on," I patted Dean's back pacifying him before shaking my head and following Sam and the guy into a different room. The man had on a plastic apron and gloves now unlike before. We were in what looked like a surgery room, complete with the lights and the tools. In the middle of the room was a body, covered from head to toe by a white sheet. We stood on one side of the table while the guy stood on the other.

"Now the newspaper said his daughter found him. She said his eyes were bleeding," Sam stated.

The guy pulled the sheet back to reveal his head, "More than that. They practically liquefied." Dean sucked in a breath as he saw the dead man's eyes. We all scrunched up our nose in disgust. Holes existed in the place of where his eyes were supposed to be. It was bloody and disgusting.

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

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

"What's the official cause of death?" I asked, speaking to the guy for the first time. According to what I knew about strokes, this wasn't a sign of one.

"Doc's not sure, he's thinking massive stroke, maybe an aneurysm?" He paused, "Something burst up in there, that's for sure."

I cocked my head to the side, "What do you mean?"

"Intense cerebral bleeding. This guy had more blood in his skull than anyone I've ever seen," he informed me.

"The eyes—what would cause something like that?" Sam asked him.

"Capillaries can burst. See a lot of bloodshot eyes with stroke victims," he shrugged but I shook my head. The sight of the bloody holes didn't look like a bloodshot eye, not even close.

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

"That's a first for me, but hey, I'm not the doctor," he grinned. Why was he so smiley about this?

"Think we could take a look at that police report? You know for, uh…our paper," Dean flashed him a grin.

"I'm not really supposed to show you that," the guy said looking over at Sam, hinting at more money. I rolled my eyes.

Sam, annoyed, pulled out his wallet and handed the guy more bills. Now I wanted to punch him. The guy took the money happily before he motioned with his head towards another room. We all went after him towards a file cabinet where he searched for a moment before pulling out a yellow file. He handed it to Sam and we leaned over his shoulder to read what was written.

It wasn't useful, pretty much just telling us how he was found dead. It was in a bathroom, a pool of blood around him. There were pictures of the dead body and another paper showed the medical report. The official cause of death was a stroke, saying that he was under a lot of stress. I frowned at their stupidity. Sam finished looking at the file and he handed it back to the guy before we all left the same way we came in.

"Might not be one of ours. Might just be some freak medical thing," Sam suggested as we went down the stairs.

"How many times in dad's long and varied career has it actually been a freak medical thing and not some sign of an awful supernatural death?" Dean said back. I sighed, Dean was right.

"Ah, almost never," Sam said.

Dean looked at him. "Exactly."

"All right, let's go talk to the daughter," I proposed as we got out of the morgue and into the sunlight. Dean nodded and we walked to the car before getting in and driving towards the Shoemaker's place.

We got in through the open door into the house filled with people of all ages all dressed formal. The first thing I noticed was how underdressed we were. I glanced at my clothes that consisted of a black shirt, blue jacket, blue skinny jeans, and my safety boots. Oh yeah, underdressed was an underestimation.

"Feel like we're underdressed," I whispered to Sam and Dean. We looked around and there were people conversing and eating like it was some kind of gathering instead of a service.

I huffed out a breath, annoyed. I shook my head as I followed Dean and Sam deeper into the house. I saw Dean talking to an old man and I walked over to them quickly wanting to know what they were talking about.

"We'd like to give our condolences to Mr. Steven's daughter; can you show us where she is?" Dean politely asked.

"Sure, this way," the old man said back as he walked out to the backyard where he pointed to a few girls sitting together. Dean nodded in thanks and then we all walked towards the girls.

A blond was sitting in one of the chairs and a brunette who looked young enough to be in high school was on a couch next to her with another blond. I was gonna call them by their hair color until I figured their names.

"You must be Donna, right?" Dean asked the brunette. Then I frowned, how did Dean know her name?

"Yeah," the brunette said. I remembered then that the police report and the newspaper both said the daughters' names.

"Hi uh—we're really sorry," Sam said softly.

"Thank you," she said with a small smile. All the girls looked Sam and Dean up and down. I rolled my eyes.

"I'm Sam, this is Dean and Lexi. We worked with your dad," Sam said as an explanation.

"You did?" Donna asked suspiciously, looking at blonde number two briefly, but it was directed at me than at them.

I explained quickly, before my brothers could. "They did," pointing at Sam and Dean, "I'm his sister," I pointed at Dean since he looked like me more than Sam did. She nodded in acknowledgement but she still looked suspicious.

"Yeah. This whole thing. I mean, a stroke," Dean shook his head in sadness.

"I don't think she really wants to talk about this right now," blonde number two said rudely. But I wasn't focusing; instead I was looking at the youngest girl sitting down next to Donna. She looked young enough to be just about thirteen years old and she had a really guilty look on her face.

"It's okay. I'm okay," Donna said to calm the blonde next to her.

"Were there any symptoms? Dizziness? Migraines?" Dean tried to find out more about the death.

"No," Donna shook her head, sighing. That's when the little girl turned around.

"That's because it wasn't a stroke." She argued with her sister, I'm assuming.

"Lily, don't say that," Donna said with a pitying look on her face. So she is her little sister. I perked up however; it was people like Lily that usually knew the truth, little girls and boys who no one believed.

I was curious to see what Lily thought the cause of death was. "What?" I asked her softly.

But Donna turned to me instead, "I'm sorry, she's just upset," she said, shaking her head.

Lily shook her head again, "No, it happened because of me."

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

I frowned and walked around the big girls till I reached her, "Lily," I bent down to Lily's level so that I could look into her eyes, making sure she could see that she could trust me, "why would you say something like that?" I questioned her gently.

"Right before he died, I said it," she looked at me sadly. I glanced at Sam and Dean to see them listening intently to us.

"You said what?" I pried.

"Bloody Mary, three times in the bathroom mirror," I froze. Bloody Mary? Bloody Mary?! Bloody-fucking-Mary?! "She took his eyes, that's what she does." Everyone was silent for a minute while I was internally panicking. Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw realization dawn on Sam and Dean's faces.

Donna's voice snapped me out of my thoughts of horror. "That's not why dad died. This isn't your fault," I had a feeling that this wasn't the first time they go through this conversation.

Dean spoke up when he realized that I wasn't going to say anything. "I think your sister's right, Lily. There's no way it could have been Bloody Mary. Your dad didn't say it, did he?" Both Sam and I turned to Dean at his question then back to Lily for the answer. That was a smart question.

"No, I don't think so," but she sounded unsure like she truly did believe it was what's-her-face that did this. I squeezed Lily's hands in assurance but I think my hand was shaking too much to provide any comfort. I gave her a smile then stood back up next to Sam and Dean.

"Well, we're really sorry for your loss," Sam said. Donna nodded with a small smile and then we started walking back towards the house.

"You look pale, Lex," Dean said with a smirk. I grimaced at him.

Everyone knew of my absolute fear from Bloody Mary. She was one of those very few things that scared the hell out of me. I know, someone like me, shouldn't be afraid from something like this. Especially since I spend my life destroying stuff like that; but I think it had something to do with the fact that Bloody Mary was once upon a time innocent and that she turned pure evil due to what happened to her. Or maybe it was due to the fact that I have never seen her so I didn't know what to expect or how to kill her.

All I knew for a fact that Bloody Mary scared the crap out of me. Suddenly, I wish we took the other case last night when we were deciding where to go.

I was pulled out of my thoughts when Dean nudged me and I realized that we were in a part of the house that I haven't seen before. A quick assessment of my surroundings informed me that I was upstairs to presumably check the murder scene. The three of us kept walking down a hallway and looking at doors as we went along. We came to a stop at the only door open, which of course had to be the fucking bathroom.

Sam pushed the door open and I held my breath, half expecting Bloody Mary to come jumping at me holding an ax. I let out my breath when I realized the bathroom only contained the normal stuff. No bloody looking girl anywhere in sight, only traces of dried blood on the marble-white floor.

I would've expected them to clean the bathroom out better than that considering they still lived here. Weren't they disturbed by the fact that this was their father's blood on the floor?

"The Bloody Mary legend; did dad ever find any evidence that it was a real thing?" Sam asked us while we all peaked into the bathroom, none of us wanting to step into the bathroom.

"Not that I know of," said Dean. Of course dad didn't, he left the shitty stuff to us.

Dean being the brave one opened the lights to the bathroom and stepped in. I was tempted to snatch him back out but I restrained myself knowing I wouldn't survive his teasing if I did. Sam soon followed him inside, each of them looking around the bathroom looking for any clues. I. however, stayed where I was, not wanting to go inside—just in case—like the good girl I was.

Sam stooped down to the floor and touched the red, he rubbed his fingers together then looked at me, nodding, confirming it was blood. "I mean, everywhere else all over the country, kids will play…" he hesitated saying her name and I cringed inwardly at the next words out of his mouth, "Bloody Mary, and as far as we know, no one dies from it."

"Yeah, well, maybe everywhere it's just a story but here it's actually happening," Dean suggests and I flinched at the fact that we're in the one place where Bloody Mary was real.

Sam noticed how weird I was acting and walked back to me. "Lex, are you okay?"

I nodded, not sure how strong my voice was. Dean looked over at us and let out a chuckle. "You don't remember?" He asked Sam.

"Remember what?" Sam questions looking from Dean to me and back.

"That she's really scared of…" he glances at the mirror quickly before going back to us, "Blood Mary?" Though he says her name in a lower voice. I wanted so badly to punch him for making fun but I was scared to go into the bathroom.

"You still are?" Sam asks me, incredulously.

I shrugged nonchalantly pretending that I didn't care. Sam saw through my act anyways and put his arm around me. See? This was why he was my favorite brother. I stuck my tongue out at Dean feeling like a five year old and crossed my arms for good measure. He rolled his eyes at me and went back to checking every corner of the bathroom.

"So the place where the legend began?" Sam goes back to the issue at hand and walks a little further in the bathroom with me at his side to stand next to Dean who shrugged his shoulders. "But according to the legend, the person who says—" Dean opened the medicine-cabinet-mirror to look inside it. Sam and I both look at the mirror that was now facing us. I grimaced at my reflection and quickly slammed my hand against it to shut it. "The person, who says you know what, gets it. But here—"

"Shoemaker gets instead, yeah," I speak up and both Sam and Dean look at me.

"Right." Sam says.

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

"It's worth checking in to." Sam says. Right at that moment, we all heard the sound of heels clicking down the hallway. They got louder and louder while the three of us scrambled to hide.

Once we realized that three fully grown adults cannot hide in the bathtub, we walked out of the bathroom slowly like that will maybe hide the fact that we shouldn't be here doing god knows what in the suspicious-looking bathroom.

We looked to our right where I saw that blonde girl from downstairs, one of Donna's friends.

"What are you doing up here?" She said with a smile. Why was she smiling? I had no idea.

"We…uh," Dean looked at me and Sam for a good excuse but Sam and I just nodded at him in encouragement. "We had to go to the bathroom."

I resisted the urge to face palm at what Dean said. God only knows, how many ways that could be understood wrong.

"Who are you?"

"Like we said downstairs, we worked with Donna's dad," Dean told her again but she was smarter than I gave her credit for.

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

"No, I know, I meant—"

The girl interrupted Dean before he could finish, "And all those weird questions downstairs, what was that?" Oh god, we so do not need this right now. "So you tell me what's going on, or I start screaming," I nearly let out a really loud laugh at her threat. Oh yeah, screaming. I'm terrified.

Sam held up a hand sensing I was about to get mad at the girl to calm things. "Alright, alright. We think something happened to Donna's dad." Sam said opting for the truth.

"Yeah, a stroke."

"That's not a typical sign of a stroke." I told her. She looked at me in doubt. "We think it might be something else," something much more terrifying than a stroke.

"Like what?" She questioned.

I hesitated on what to tell her; Sam beat me to it. "Honestly? We don't know yet. But we don't want it to happen to anyone else. That's the truth," Sam said in that tone he used when he was trying to get someone to believe he was innocent.

Worked every damn time.

"So…if you're gonna scream, go right ahead," Dean challenged her but she stayed silent, contemplating what we told her.

"Who are you, cops?" The girl questioned. Immediately, I could tell that she was convinced with what Sam told her.

"Something like that," Dean smirked.

"I'll tell you what: Here," Sam reached into his pocket, pulling out a paper and pen and started writing his cell phone number down. "If you think of anything, you or your friends notice anything strange, out of the ordinary…just give us a call." He hands her the paper as the three of us walk down the hallway leaving her behind.

We walked into the public library just as Dean finished talking about how delicious the bacon-cheese burgers were down the diner we just ate at. Then he started talking again except it was about something important, "Alright, say Bloody Mary really is haunting this town. There's gonna be some sort of proof—like a local woman who died nasty," Dean suggested.

"Yeah, but a legend this widespread, it's hard. I mean, there's like fifty versions of who she actually is. One story says she's a witch, another says she's a mutilated bride, there's a lot more," Sam spoke, listing the stories on his fingers.

"Don't forget the one where she's Queen Elizabeth's sister," I mentioned and Sam frowned even more, not liking the fact that the story stretched all the way to England.

"Alright, so what are we supposed to be looking for?" Dean asked us as we turned around a corner, heading to where the computers were located.

I narrowed my eyes in thought, preparing myself to face up to this. "Every version's got a few things in common," I started, "it's always a woman named Mary, and she always dies right in front of a mirror. So we've gotta search local newspapers—public records as far back as they go. See if we can find a Mary who fits the bill." I said. Sam nodded while Dean scowled.

"Well, that sounds annoying," he said.

Sam shook his head though turning to the computers we now stood in front of. "No. it won't be so bad, as long as we…" He looked at the computers which all say 'Out of Order' on pieces of paper taped to the screens. Then he lets out a humorless chuckle. "I take it back. This will be very annoying."

I sighed, this was just our luck. Silently, we all frowned and each headed to the section closest to us. I ended up walking towards the section with the local newspapers.

I sat down on the floor, crossing my legs, and reached for the closest box towards me. This one was labeled '1991'. Oh well, guess I was starting with the 90s.

I look up at the clock hanging on the wall, realizing that it's been three hours since I started looking through newspapers. I stand up stretching my back and hearing it crack from sitting bent over for so long. I take a look around noticing the mess I left around the spot I was sitting in. Quickly, I put all the newspapers back in their respected boxes and put the boxes back where I found them, disappointed that I didn't find anything of help.

It was right as I put the last box back in its place that I saw something out of the corner of my eye. Turning around fully, heart beating fast, I looked around wildly searching for whatever flashed beside me.

Except there was nothing at all, everything was how it looked ever since I came here. I shook my head to clear my eyes. I have been reading for too long.

Slowly, with my hand over my gun, I walked out of the corner I was in, and to where I last recall hearing Sam and Dean. I kept walking to the other side of the library deliberately keeping my eyes open for anything weird.

I rounded a corner and sighed in relief as I saw Dean lying down in a couch with a book on his face to block out the lights and Sam on a table, with various books open in front of him. He smiled as he saw me heading towards him.

"Find anything?" He asked me.

I shook my head, "Nothing at all." He sighed and shook his head too in answer to what he knew I was going to ask him next. Then I pointed over at Dean, "Is he asleep?"

Sam heaved a sigh and shrugged like Dean was better off not getting involved with research. "He started reading that book before he realized that it would be more of use lying on his face."

I laughed as I walked over to Dean, already forgetting about earlier. "Wake up, Sleeping Beauty, we're leaving." I said as I slapped his leg, making it fall on the floor. He jolted awake looking around as if the world was ending. "Calm down, we're in the library, researching, on Bloody Mary, you know? Our case, the reason we actually came here…"

"Okay, okay, I get it. Ready to go?" Dean asked us. Sam and I nodded and started walking towards the exit.

We reached the motel after we made a stop for some gas and food. Both Sam and Dean were discussing the case, while I sat in the backseat, tired as hell. I thought of the last time I got sleep and faintly recalled getting a few hours during our drive to Toledo.

That's why the moment we got in the room, I took off my shoes and jacket and flung myself on the nearest bed which happened to be Dean's but I didn't care.

"You're gonna sleep?" Dean asked disbelievingly. "Come help us find out what killed Mr. Shoemaker," Dean said as I turned around to stare him down.

"I already did, Dean. While you, Sir, were taking a nap in the library. Sam and I should rest; you on the other hand should stay up and actually do something productive," like leave the bed to me, but I didn't say that out loud.

He stared at me for a couple of seconds then turned around and went towards the table next to the window and opened Sam's laptop. He was probably going to watch porn. I stopped watching him after he looked up at me and winked while Sam was changing. I stifled a giggle and went back to find a good spot on the bed.

After fidgeting for a moment, I finally relaxed and drifted to sleep.

I felt warmth on my face that turned the back of my lids orange. I let out a small smile as I felt the sun shining on my face. The weather wasn't too hot; it was warm enough to turn your cheeks red with a slight breathe that ruffled my hair. I stretched, arching my back on the soft ground. I settled down once more not willing to waste time on anything other than enjoying the silence.

But the peace didn't last for long when I suddenly realized that the last time I was awake I was in bed in a dirty motel with Sam and Dean. I opened my eyes and quickly stood up assessing my surroundings.

I was in a beautiful meadow with budding flowers all around me. The grass looked so green that it was hard to tell if it was real or fake. Roses all around me were fully grown. It was weird though, because there were no bushes that the roses grew from, just roses sticking out from the ground. I frowned harder as I realized that they weren't natural. Far in the distance I could see a lake but for all I know it could've been a mirage. The sky was blue, not a cloud in sight.

All in all, it looked perfect which was why I was starting to freak out.

"You shouldn't be here," a melodic voice said from behind me.

I let out the most girlish shriek ever that I would deny if someone ever questioned me about as I spun around and stared at the same gorgeous boy from my dreams before. I felt my eyes widen in shock at just how beautiful he actually was in the sunshine.

With the sun shining down on us, I truly saw his features, so perfect that he seems unreal just like the place we were in. I looked up at his jaw first and how straight his jawline was then my eyes traveled to his cheekbones so high and sharp. Then my eyes traveled to his nose where, just like the rest of him, was perfect. His lips were next, so red and plump that I had to physically restrain myself from running my fingers on them. My eyes skipped over his however, knowing once I looked into them I'd be lost, and went to his hair. It looked soft and silky with a few strands falling over his forehead; I wanted to run my hand through his hair just so I can feel how soft it is beneath my hand.

His eyes though, when I looked into them, took my breath away. His eyes were so blue that I'm sure the sky envied them. They were scrunched up with what I realized was amusement and I slapped myself internally to focus on the problem at hand, like how much his lips were kissable or…

Stop! Focus brain.

I took a deep breath and looked once more in his eyes, "Who are you?" I asked him the question I was dying to know the answer to.

"You never answered my question," he said instead.

"You never asked one," I retorted back just as quickly. The perks of growing up with Dean Winchester.

His eyes flashed quickly to look behind me to stare at something in the distance before settling back on me once more.

"You shouldn't be here."

"You already said that." I raised an eyebrow at him, waiting for an answer from him.

He sighed, "My name is Lucas."

Lucas? Lucas? "Lucas?!"

"Is there a problem?" He tilted his head to the side.

Well, yeah! How can such a mundane name be given to someone so…so…heavenly? "No."

He nodded like he was actually expecting me to say yes, there was a problem with Lucas.

"You should leave," Lucas, gorgeous boy with the silver blue eyes, said.

I was taken back; rude much? "Excuse me?" I said, shocked.

"You heard me." I looked into his eyes to try and decipher his rapid change in mood but all I got was coldness instead of the warmth that was there earlier.

"Well, sorry to disappoint but you're the one in my dream so you're the one that should leave," I forced my body to turn away from him. I stared once more at the beautiful roses. I breathed in the fresh air and the smell of roses. I held my breath trying to lose myself.

"Dream?" I heard his confused voice. "This isn't a dream, Lexi."

I woke up gasping for air, quickly inhaling oxygen into my lungs. Why did it feel like I haven't been breathing for hours? "Lexi?" I heard Dean's voice from next to me. I looked over at him and noticed the windows behind him were dark. There was light coming in from the bathroom casting a path towards the bed I was sitting in. The first light of dawn cast a light shadow over Sam in the other bed who was lying on his side breathing evenly. And there was light illuminating Dean's face from my laptop in front of him on the table. "Lexi?" He questioned again.

It took me another moment to gather my surroundings and figure out where the hell I was. "Sorry, weird dream," I whispered softly not wanting to wake Sam up.

"What is it with you and weird dreams?" He raised his eyebrows.

"Err, nothing?" I averted his eyes, deciding to stare at the blankets rolled around my feet.

"Lexi, don't lie to me."

He closed the laptop and pivoted on his chair to stare at me.

Shit. I'm in trouble now.

"Seriously, nothing is going on. You've never had a weird dream before?" I smirked at him.

"I've never had a weird dream from before where I couldn't wake up."

"What?" I asked him, surprised.

"You were sleeping fine until you became very still. I tried waking you up but it was like talking to the dead. Wanna explain to me why? Was it a nightmare?" He leaned towards me with careful eyes like he expected me to bolt any moment.

"I'm not…they're not nightmares."

"Yeah, okay." He looked away for a moment before he turned back to me, "Why don't you and Sam want to tell me about what's going on with you two?" He asked, and even though he was looking away from me, I could still sense the hurt in his voice.

"I don't know about Sam but I'm not hiding anything from you. They really are just weird dreams, not nightmares," I frowned at the look of worry in his eyes. "Dean, it's probably nothing. But I'll research it, okay? I'm not in danger or anything, just so you know. Don't worry," I added.

He snorted and leaned back, "I wasn't worried," he said like I wasn't his sister. As if I didn't know him like the back of my hand. "Anyways, I've searched archives of the people who used to live here by the name Mary. No one fits the bill. And I scanned records of strange deaths in the area. Nothing. Got any ideas?" He asked.

"How about searching for any deaths tagged with the word mirror? Could lead you to something. I'm gonna take a shower and go out to get breakfast," I got off the bed and saw him nod from the corner of my eye.

I ran my hand through my hair and looked for the duffle bag I knew had Tylenol in it.

Headaches were so not my thing.

I heard Dean's voice through the door while I was trying to shift the coffee holder and the paper bag to one hand so I can open the door.

"'Cause I'm an awesome brother. So what did you dream about?" I heard Dean ask.

Sam's voice was too soft for me to hear but I heard Dean's muttered, "Yeah, sure," then another pause. "Oh, besides a whole new level of frustration? No. I've looked at everything. A few local women, a Laura and a Catherine committed suicide in front of a mirror, and a giant mirror fell on a guy named Dave, but uh, no Mary," I guess Dean took my advice.

I gave up trying to open the door and kicked it once with my leg. Silence followed and then Dean was in front me. "What took you so long?" Dean asked as he took the coffee from me.

I walked in the room and closed the door behind me. Sam was sitting up on the bed and he ruffled my hair as I walked past him towards the table. But his heart wasn't in it. He sighed and threw himself back on the bed.

"Long line," I answered Dean when I remembered his question.

"Maybe we just haven't found it yet," Sam said while he stared at the ceiling.

Dean took a big gulp of his coffee then continued his earlier conversation. "I've also been searching for strange deaths in the area, you know…eyeball bleeding, that sort of thing. There's nothing. Whatever's happening here, maybe it just ain't Mary," he closed the book that was lying on the table and he took a seat on the pulled out chair.

Right at that moment, Sam's cellphone rung through the air. He grabbed it off the bed and glanced at the screen before he flipped it open. "Hello?" Sam mumbled through the phone.

Dean and I stared at him as his eyes widened throwing himself off the bed. "When?"

Another pause and both Dean and I stood up as he motioned for us to get out of the room. Dean grabbed his keys off the table and walked to the door. I heard Sam talk behind me, "Okay, okay, just calm down. Where should we meet you?" After a moment, he flipped his phone shut.

We got into the Impala and we looked at each other. Sam spoke first, "Charlie—the girl we gave our number to—said that the third girl that was sitting with Donna yesterday, Jill, was found dead this morning. Her eyes were bled out and she was in the bathroom, on the floor in front her bathroom mirror. Charlie's waiting for us in International Park."

Without a word, Dean pulled out and we headed straight for the park. I sighed, this was gonna be a long day.

I spotted Charlie sitting on a bench in the middle of the park. It wasn't crowded and she was sitting with her face down. We walked closer to her until we were a few feet away. "Charlie?" Sam murmured softly.

She looked up immediately and began sobbing. Her eyes were swollen and there were tear marks all over her face. I felt bad for her. No one deserved to lose someone they loved.

Dean sat down on the backrest of the bench Charlie was on, Sam and I continued standing. "Tell us what happened, Charlie," I said.

"J-Jill called me yesterday w-while I was d-driving home, we…talked about w-what L-Lily said, a-about how…B-B-Bloody Mary k-killed…" she took a deep breath, "Jill thought she was being funny and she said it, three times. Nothing happened while I was on the phone with her, then—" the sobs took over and she bent down covering her face. I sat next to her and patted her back.

"And they found her on the bathroom floor. And her—her eyes, they were gone," she kept sobbing. I looked over at Sam and his eyes were full of sympathy.

"I'm sorry," he said softly.

"And she said it," Sam looked at me then at Dean behind me. "I heard her say it. But it couldn't be because of that. I'm insane, right?" She looked up at us like if we said she was insane this would all be okay.

Too bad it didn't actually work like that.

"No, you're not insane," Dean spoke from behind me.

"Oh God, that makes me feel so much worse," I looked at her but she was sobbing again into her hands.

"Look. We think something's happening here. Something that can't be explained," Sam said as we looked at him.

"And we're gonna stop it, but we could use your help," Dean finished for him.

"My help with what?"

"We need to take a look at where she died," I explained.

"But that's in her bedroom. How are you gonna get in?" She asked confusedly.

"That's where you come in," I said slowly.

"I can't."

"Yes, you can. If you want us to stop anyone else from getting hurt then you have to help us get in her room and help us figure this thing out."

It took her a moment to give us her consent but she gave it.

"Dean," I called out as I reached the windowsill in front of Jill's room. I crouched on it then held out my hands to catch the duffle bag Dean threw me.

Quickly, Dean grabbed the water pipe and ascended till he reached where I was then watched as Sam made the same movements. Once we were safely next to the window, I looked through the glass pane and saw Charlie lock the door to Jill's bedroom. Quickly, she unlatched the window and pushed it upwards. I jumped in first and took the duffle bag with me. Sam and Dean followed right after me.

I set the bag on the bed and started going through it. I heard Dean slide the window shut. Sam stood next to me and looked over at Charlie, "What did you tell Jill's mom?"

"Just that I needed some time alone with Jill's pictures and things," I pulled out the video camera out of the bag and Dean shut the curtains.

"Great," I smiled at her.

"I hate lying to her," she told us.

"Trust us; this is for the greater good. Hit the lights," Dean told Charlie

She walked quickly and turned the lights off. The bedroom was suddenly light-less and it took a second for my eyes to adjust. "What are you guys looking for?"

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

I handed Sam the camera after I turned it on. Dean grabbed the duffle bag and took out the EMF meter. Sam fumbled with the camera before he leaned it towards me, "Hey, night vision," I pressed a button at the top of the camera. "Thanks." He started recording. "Perfect," he aimed the camera at Dean.

Dean noticed and turned around a bit so that his ass stuck out, "Do I look like Paris Hilton?" He winked at the camera and Sam and I let out a chuckle. I saw Charlie release a small smile.

Sam walked away with the camera, opening Jill's closet door and began filming around the mirror. Dean started walking around the room with the EMF meter in his hand. I stood closer to Charlie and put my hand around her shoulders silently watching them look for a trace of any ghost or spirit.

"So I don't get it. I mean…the first victim didn't summon Mary, and the second victim did. How's she choosing them?" Sam broke the silence. I felt Charlie shiver next to me.

"Beats me." Dean shrugged his shoulders. He walked past us as Sam closed the closet door. "I want to know why Jill said it in the first place," he looked at Charlie.

"It's just a joke," she said looking scared.

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

Sam headed in the bathroom while Dean walked slowly around the bed.

"Hey," Sam called out. Dean and I quickly turned towards him. "There's a black light in the trunk, right?"

"Uhh, yeah, why?" I asked him.

"I think I found something," Dean threw the keys of the Impala at me. I caught them in the air and headed towards the window. The sunlight streaming in through the window blinded my eyesight for a moment. But I quickly opened the latch on the window and threw it open. I got out on the windowsill then grabbed the pipe with one hand while I grabbed the ledge with the other. Dangling my legs, I jumped down and landed in a crouch.

I ran to the car hidden in the alley next to the house we were checking out. Then I turned around the car till I reached the trunk. I picked out the key from the keychain and unlocked it, reaching in for the floorboard that lifted to show the arsenal hidden underneath.

Shotguns, bullets, knives, and all kinds of serial killer tools were placed in their compartments. I scanned them quickly until I found what I was looking for. Quickly grabbing the tube and checking the batteries, I slammed the trunk closed and winced.

If Dean knew I slammed the trunk that hard, he'd kill me.

I ran back the same way I came from and paused below Jill's window. Taking a few steps back, I ran towards the house and jumped grabbing the pipe again climbing up. Eighteen years of learning how to climb on trees in the woods behind nameless motels do come in handy. I reached the ledge and knocked twice on the window.

Dean's face appeared as he threw the curtains back and opened the window. I jumped in and threw the Dean the keys back. "Here," I waved the black light at Sam. He nodded and went quickly to the bathroom.

"You got it in one minute and eighteen seconds, not bad," Dean grinned at me. I smirked in smugness. Then I noticed Charlie looking at us weirdly.

Before I could explain to Charlie, Sam carried the mirror of the bathroom out to Jill's bed and laid it on the bed face down. I threw him the black light and he caught it easily then peeled off the brown paper that was on the back of the mirror.

Sam shined the black light over the back of the mirror making us all lean in so that we could see. I saw a handprint, and the words 'Gary Bryman' written in childlike handwriting.

"Gary Bryman?" Charlie read, sounding shocked. We all looked at her.

"You know who that is?" I asked her.

"No."

Sam switched off the black light. "Well, we have a lead, let's go." I said as I grabbed the black light and threw it in the duffle bag. Sam picked the mirror again and he and Dean carefully put it back in place. "Go back downstairs and meet us at the car." I told Charlie. She carefully unlocked the door and got out, closing it without making a noise. "She'd make a good hunter," Dean snorted as he came back out from the bathroom with Sam trailing behind.

"Everyone would make a good hunter with the right motivation."

I typed Gary Bryman in the required fields on the public records website. I hit enter and three search results came up. I clicked on the first one and frowned at what I read.

Later, I ran up to Dean, Sam, and Charlie who were sitting down on a bench in front of the Public Library. I slowed down as I reached them and they looked up at me when I stopped directly in front them. "So, Gary Bryman was an eight year old boy. Two years ago he was killed in a hit and run. The car was described as a black Toyota Camry. But nobody got the plates or saw the driver," I shrugged at the irrelevant information that I found. This seriously had nothing to do with anything.

"Oh my god," Charlie suddenly said. We all looked at her.

"What?" Sam asked her.

"Jill drove that car."

It took me a second to connect the dots but then I got it. Dean spoke before I could though, "We need to get back to your friend Donna's house."

"How are you gonna do this?" Charlie asked us.

"Stall her, make sure she doesn't go upstairs at all," I said firmly. We got out of the car, Charlie heading towards the front door while the rest of us went to the back of the house.

There was a tree in the backyard close enough we can jump from, to one of the windows of the second floor. Sam and Dean stood back as I took ahold of a thick branch and hefted myself up. They always let me go first so that they'd be sure I wouldn't fall and hurt myself. Not that I could actually fall but try telling them that.

Once I was at the top of the tree, I looked across at the ledge of the window closest to me. Quickly, I swung back from two branches and then leaped towards the ledge. I caught it easily and quickly hoisted my body on the windowsill. Thankfully, it was unlocked. I got in and turned in a circle looking around me.

There were pink walls with a few dolls on one side of the room. The other wall had drawings hung up. The bed's covering had pictures of butterflies.

I'm guessing this is Lily's room.

I heard muted thuds and then Dean and Sam were both entering the same way I came through. We all walked towards the door and with hunter's agility and silence we ran towards the bathroom.

We all got in and Dean closed the door softly behind us. Sam handed me the black light and then he unscrewed the mirror from the medicine cabinet.

Slowly, he set it down on the floor and I switched on the black light. We hunched over the back of the mirror with light revealing what we expected. There was the same handprint on it and I shivered thinking about how that was Bloody Mary's handprint and the words 'Linda Shoemaker' in the same ugly handwriting.

"Linda…Shoemaker," Sam read aloud. I sat back while Dean picked it back up and screwed it in place once again.

We rang the doorbell and Donna opened the door for us. "Can I help you?" She asked us.

"Yeah actually, may we come in?" Sam said in that tone that made people trust him. She looked at us suspiciously but then Charlie came and she nodded at Donna.

Donna opened the door all the way and motioned with her hands to come in. We stepped inside the house but didn't go in any further. "Yes?"

Dean and I both looked at Sam and I could tell that he wanted to roll his eyes at us. "Uh, was Linda Shoemaker your mom?"

Suddenly, she stood up straight and looked at us sharply, "Why are you asking me this?"

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

Charlie came to stand next to us and looked over at Donna. "Yeah. Linda's my mom, okay? She overdosed on sleeping pills, it was an accident, and that's it. I think you should leave."

So Linda and Gary are both dead. They were both accidents. And their deaths were related to the people who were killed. Jill killed Gary. But Steven didn't kill Linda. Unless Donna was lying and her dad really did kill her mom.

"Now Donna, just listen—" Dean started but she interrupted before he could continue.

"Get out of my house," she screamed at us then ran upstairs. Dean clenched his hands into fists.

I looked over at Charlie when started talking, "Oh my god. Do you really think her dad could've killed her mom?"

"Maybe," I muttered as Dean and Sam nodded.

"I think I should stick around," she nodded her head at the stairs.

Dean nodded, "Alright. Whatever you do, don't—"

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

"So what now?" I said as I took off my jacket, boots, and flung myself at the nearest bed.

I heard sighs and a bit of shuffling before it became quiet. The room was dark since it was night outside. A lamp was on next to the wall with all the clippings of newspapers, pictures, and our personal notes. There was another one by the bed that cast a soft light, and the blue light from the laptop in front of Dean.

"I'm gonna do a nationwide search for Mary," Dean stated.

A few moments passed before I heard Sam speak, "Wait, wait, wait, you're doing a nationwide search?"

"Yep. The NCIC, the FBI database—at this point any Mary who died in front of a mirror is good enough for me." Huh, that's actually a good idea.

The sound of the printing machine suddenly came on. A low whirring noise that matched the eerie mood we were in.

"But if she's haunting the town, she should have died in the town," Sam said as I felt the bed dip next to my legs. I moved my legs till I felt Sam's back just to make sure.

I heard keyboard noises and then the printing machine again. "I'm telling you there's nothing local, I've checked. So unless you got a better idea—"

Sam interrupted, "The way Mary's choosing her victims, it seems like there's a pattern."

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

"With Mr. Shoemaker and Jill's hit and run."

"Both had secrets where people died."

They kept finishing each other's thoughts and it made me smile; how well they worked together. They really were good hunters.

I recalled all the stories I've read about mirrors before and listed them, "Right. I mean there's a lot of folklore about mirrors—that they reveal all your lies, all your secrets, that they're a true reflection of your soul, which is why it's bad luck to break them," they both looked at me surprised that I wasn't asleep and nodded in agreement.

"Right, right. So maybe if you've got a secret, I mean like a really nasty one where someone died, then Mary sees it, and punishes you for it," Dean concluded.

"Whether you're the one who summoned her or not," Sam finished.

"Take a look at this," Dean handed Sam one of the papers he printed then the printing noise came back on. When it was done, Dean handed him another paper. Sam passed one of them to me then the second one.

"Looks like the same handprint," I told them.

"Her name was Mary Worthington—an unsolved murder in Fort Wayne, Indiana," Dean read off the laptop screen.

I frowned, "Indiana?" What is she doing all the way over here then?

"Yeah," Dean confirmed.

I looked at one of the pictures closely, it was of a mirror, and there was a bloody handprint that resembled the handprint we saw on the back of the mirrors in Jill and Donna's house. What caught my attention was what looked like the beginnings of letters. "Look at what's written on the mirror," I handed Sam back the paper and he looked at it.

"T-R-E?" He handed Dean back the paper.

Dean glanced at the paper and then looked back the laptop's screen. He read for a moment then turned back to us, "Doesn't say anything about that." He started reading again, "Mary was nineteen, won two beauty pageants. On March twenty-nine, someone broke into her apartment and murdered her. Her eyes were cut out and she bled to death." I flinched at the brutality of her death. No one deserved to die like that, especially an innocent person.

"Does it say who killed her?" I asked Dean.

"No, they couldn't identify the murderer. But the detective that was in charge of her case lives in Fort Wayne, Indiana, we can go talk to him, find out where she's buried."

Sam nodded and I grunted out a response; I should probably sleep so that I'd be awake for tomorrow. "We'll go tomorrow, talk to him," Dean closed the laptop and walked over the small fridge in the room and grabbed a beer then sat down on the couch turning the TV on. "Call Charlie, make sure she's okay."

Sam got off the bed and pulled out his phone. I lost focus, getting comfortable on the pillow.

I walked down the hall, not sure if this was a dream or a memory. Lately, my dreams have been so vivid that it was hard to distinguish them from reality. My hand subconsciously drifted to my back, my heart beating faster when I didn't find my gun. I never went anywhere without my gun unless I had another weapon.

I looked down at my feet, hoping to find my pocket knife tucked into my boots even when I felt the cold linoleum underneath my bare feet. That was indication enough that this was a dream. I don't think I'm actually crazy enough to leave without my shoes on.

My dreams were weird lately—aside from the fact that my imagination had enough juice to create someone as beautiful as Lucas—they didn't feel as the rest of my normal dreams. When I normally dreamt, I wasn't fully conscious like this. I could still feel, sure, but I never quite had a thought process. Not to mention, they weren't as vivid and they were always hazy, like looking through a dirty window.

I heard a low murmur and all of my focus turned to my surroundings. Dad would really flip if he knew I was getting lost inside my head like this. It looked like I was walking down a strange hallway of a large home. Gas lit brass wall scones lighted my path but cast eerie shadows giving an innocent flower arrangement the illusion of a beast of many heads and far reaching tentacles on the wall behind it. I shivered as I passed by, unconsciously stepping away to avoid its grasp.

All the wooden doorways were closed shut save one at the far end of the lengthy hall which seemed to grow in size with each step I took. The door was only slightly ajar but enough so a small ray of light hit the floor in front of it.

The murmurs kept growing louder as I got closer to the door. Soon, I could make out distinct voices. It sounded like a girl and a couple of guys. Once I got close enough to the door, I peeked in.

My eyes widened as I saw Lucas lying in a very wide bed, there was a lot of red on the bed sheets and I had enough experience to immediately identify as blood. Next to him on the bed was a man that looked old enough to be forty. He had slightly white hair and he was dressed in a blue V-neck sweater with a white shirt under it and slightly off white pants. The other guy in the room was dressed in a normal shirt and dark jeans. The last person was a girl and she was dressed in a floor-length black skirt and a tank top that might have been white a long time ago.

Who the fuck were those people?

Oh well, it was my dream anyway. Might as well announce my presence; I pushed open the door and cleared my throat, standing in the middle of the entryway.

Startled was an underestimation of the multiple reactions I got. All four heads turned towards me and they all let out gasps. I smirked; this was getting better by the second.

"Who—Lucas, is this her?" The girl was the first to break the silence. She said 'her' as if she knew exactly who I was. I've never even seen her in my entire life.

"How did you find me?" Lucas spoke this time and just like that all of my attention was on him ignoring everyone else around me. His voice sounded raspy and rough, I repressed the shiver that wanted to run down my spine. I quickly scanned his body and I instantly noticed that he was shirtless. It was exactly hard to miss but what grabbed my attention was the long gash—about three or four inches—across his hip. It was still oozing blood, dangerously fast and I could tell that it needed stitches even from all the way across the room. "Lexi?"

Well, he won't die in my dream. Directly switching to hunter mode, I walked over to the bed to the side he was lying on. I saw a first aid kit on the bedside table and the strangers made a path for me, easing away from where I was huddled around Lucas now.

"That's gonna need stitches," I told him as I found a needle and a thread in the box. I slid the thread through the top of the curved needle and tied it twice, the motions already memorized by my hand thanks to years of stitching Sam and Dean countless times. Once the needle and thread were ready for use, I did a quick assessment of the room I was in noting how big it was. Thankfully, I found what I was looking for; the bathroom's door right next to the door I came in. I jogged to it and went inside, grabbing the nearest hand towel I saw and wetting it.

I went back to the bed, once again kneeling by the side. I gently ran the towel around the cut, cleaning it out and removing all the blood leaking out. Once I could actually see the wound, I noticed how deep it was. I looked up at his face, he was looking right back at me. It made me slightly nervous but I focused back at where my hands were.

I pressed the rag on the wound, "Hold this for a second," I motioned for the person closest to me which turned out to be the boy that looked no older than me.

Once again, I stood up and grabbed the liquor bottle I spotted on my way to the bathroom. Turning back, I noticed how the oldest man in the room was staring at me like I was a foreign creature.

I took the rag when I was seated next to Lucas's thigh, his wound directly in front of me. The boy let go of the towel and I took it off the cut and put it on the top of the bottle in my hand. I flipped it upside down twice then put it on the floor beside the bed. "This is going to sting," I warned Lucas but before he could do anything, I pressed the rag against his wound for a moment trying to make sure that it was completely disinfected.

I grabbed the needle off the bed and also wiped it down with the cloth. Once I was satisfied, I threw the hand towel next to Lucas on the other side of the bed. I leaned closer to his hip and looked up at his face, "This might hurt."

"It's okay," his voice sounded soft now, eyes trailing my every move. I nodded and went back to work.

Grabbing the skin around the wound, I held it tightly so that the skin came together and shut the wound. Starting at the edge, I pierced the skin with the needle angling it downwards slightly then to the other piece skin and pulling it out from the other side of the wound. I heard a low hiss release from his mouth and felt his body tense under my hands. "Relax, it'll hurt more if you tense up," I paused until I felt his body relax once more but I saw his hands clench by his sides. I resumed the rhythmic motions of the needle.

When I got to the top of the wound, I made my down again, zigzagging the stitches so that they wouldn't tear. Fast, I reached my starting point and I knotted the thread before I leaned down and cut the thread with my teeth.

Grabbing the liquor bottle once more, I tilted it down so that the golden liquid fell on his sun-kissed skin. He really did hiss this time when the liquid ran over the wound. I stood back up and drew a bandage that I covered the wound with. Then I found pain killers. I took out two and grabbed the liquor bottle again.

"Here, take these, they'll ease the pain," I handed him the pills and then the bottle. He placed the pills on his tongue and then washed them down with the—what I noted now—whiskey.

"Thanks," he said and it took an immense amount of willpower for me to not reach down and run my hand through the hair that has fallen across his forehead.

"Don't mention it."

"So!" Suddenly a booming voice said from behind and I almost dropped the bottle from hands from my surprise of suddenly noticing we weren't alone in the room.

"Not now, Jules." Then he turned to me, "Lexi, you need to wake up."

I stared at him in shock, I stitch him up and he's back to wanting me out of my own dream. Jesus.

Then he grabbed my hand and pulled me closer to him, placing my hand right over his heart. I could feel the steady beat underneath my palm and I nearly fell over. I stared in his blue eyes, sharp as ice and warm as honey. "Please Lexi, wake up."

I was good with just staring into his eyes really.

"Focus on the rhythm," he tightened his hand around mine, pressing it deeper into his skin. "Wake up."

His heart was beating slow and steady. Every beat and a half, a second passed. "I don't want to wake up. Why do you always tell me to wake up?"

"Always?" He asked confusedly. "How many times have you seen me before?"

"I don't remember. I really don't care either." But the effect of my words was lost when I became conscious of where my hand was again. "Why do I keep dreaming of you?"

I heard a low voice from behind, "She thinks it's a dream," someone whispered. I was too focused on Lucas's eyes to actually look behind me. "I bet you she doesn't even know what she's doing." I think it was Jules talking. "That's bad."

Lucas's eyes kept darting between me and somewhere behind me. He had worry in his eyes and I honestly couldn't find any will in my body to actually give a fuck about who was saying what about me. This dream was outright strange from the beginning, I wasn't about to start asking questions now.

"When you've had dreams about me before, how did you wake up?" Lucas put all of his attention on me and it felt suffocating in a good way.

How did that even work?

"You always said something stupid," I said raising an eyebrow. I heard chuckles from behind me and I could see the start of a smile on his lips. But then I actually thought about his question, "I always woke up because you'd say something that surprised me. Something I didn't expect."

"Okay…" he looked thoughtful for a moment, "your name is Lexi, you're eighteen, and you're a hunter."

"Nope, no surprise there. I already know you know everything about me." He raised his eyebrows at me. "This is a dream which means you're in my head, my mind made you up so you know everything about me." I explained.

"She sounds convinced." I heard Jules whisper.

Suddenly, I felt pain explode from my side and I jumped away from the bed. "Did you just pinch me?!" I asked disbelievingly.

"You said surprise you," Lucas defended himself. But there was a small smirk on his pink, full lips.

"Yes! Surprise me, not hurt me!"

"I'm sorry," he said as he swung his legs to the side, sitting up straight. "C'mere," he reached out for my hand and I didn't resist.

Suddenly, one of his hands was behind my neck and the other was around my waist. Before I could even start to properly function, he tilted my head down and kissed me.

"Fuck!" I jumped up, sitting straight on the bed; I was back in the motel room with Sam and Dean sitting on the couch in front of me. There was sunlight streaming in through the window, it must have been like seven in the morning.

"Lexi?" I heard their worried voices. They both came over to where I was sitting on the bed, sitting down on both sides of me. "You okay?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, just…it was just a really fucking weird dream."

"Wanna talk about it?" Sam asked again.

"Err, no."

There really was no way to tell your brothers how there's this guy you keep dreaming about which tries so bad to always wake me up when I'm around and how my dream isn't actually a dream, and that the boy that keeps telling me to wake up kissed me to wake me up and maybe that kiss wasn't real except I could my lips tingling and my body felt electric and my heart was still pounding in my ears.

Yup, no way I could tell them that.

I knocked on the door then waited on the front porch. A middle-aged man opened the door after a minute, "Hello, are you Detective Smith?" I asked him.

"Yes."

"We're reporters from the Wane paper, my name is Lexi, this is Sam and Dean," I pointed at my brothers with my hand, "we wanted to ask you about Mary Worthington," I finished.

He nodded, "Come in," he motioned with his hand for us to step inside. I heard Dean close the door behind us.

He went inside and we followed him, looking at the pictures we passed by, "I was on the job for thirty-five years—detective for most of that. Now everybody packs it in with a few loose ends, but the Mary Worthington murder—that one still gets me."

"What exactly happened?" Dean asked him.

"You guys said you were reporters?" He asked us, guarded.

Sam answered him, already reading off the notepad he uses to write information on, "We know Mary was nineteen, lived by herself. We know she won a few local beauty contests, dreamt of getting out of Indiana, being an actress. And we know the night of March twenty-ninth someone broke into her apartment and murdered her, cut out her eyes with a knife," Sam listed what Dean told us last night about Mary.

"That's right."

"See sir, when we asked you what happened, we wanted to know what you think happened," Dean asked him catching on to the slight implication of what he said earlier about Mary's case.

He looked at Dean and then paused for a moment before he walked a little further inside the house in another room that looked like an office. He went to a file cabinet, pulling out a big box full with files. "Technically I'm not supposed to have a copy of this," I saw Sam and Dean glance at each other briefly before they focused back on the detective. He opened one of the files to the picture Dean found on the computer yesterday showing it to us. "Now see that there? T-R-E?" Pointing to the same letters I noted last night on the mirror.

"Yeah." Dean nodded. The three of us huddled around the desk.

"I think Mary was trying to spell out the name of her killer," I looked up at him, surprised.

"You know who it was?" I asked him.

"Not for sure. But there was a local man, a surgeon—Trevor Sampson," He pulled out a picture of a man wearing a suit and sunglasses. "And I think he cut her up good."

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

"Her diary mentioned a man that she was seeing. She called him by his initial, 'T'," he looked at us and I saw Sam write down in his notepad. "Well, her last entry, she was gonna tell 'T''s wife about their affair."

"Yeah, but how do you know it was Sampson who killed her?" Dean always wanted physical proof or enough proof to prove. Did that make sense?

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

I nodded, understanding now, "But you could never prove it," I stated more than asked. Mary's spirit never moved on because she wanted justice.

"No. No prints, no witnesses. He was meticulous." The detective shook his head sadly.

"Is he still alive?" Dean asked him, wanting to confirm the answer we already knew.

"Nope," he sat down and sighed, "if you ask me, Mary spent her last living moments trying to expose this guy's secret. But she never could."

"Where's she buried?" Sam asked him from where he was perched on the desk.

"She wasn't. She was cremated." Ha, there was never anything that easy.

Dean looked at me scowling but then he turned back to him and looked at the mirror in the picture, "What about that mirror?" he nodded at it, "It's not in some evidence lockup somewhere, is it?"

The detective leaned back in the chair and shook his head, "Ah, no. It was returned to Mary's family a long time ago."

Damn, this was gonna be a long day.

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

The detective reached for the box again, rummaging through it before he pulled out a paper and handed it to Sam. "Here you go."

Sam nodded and stood up. "Thanks for your time, Detective. We appreciate it." Sam said as we made our way back to the front door.

Once we were inside the Impala and on the road, Sam turned to us, "So what now? Do we actually call every family member and ask them if they have the mirror Mary spilled her blood on?"

Dean turned to Sam and pointedly gave him a look that said he didn't appreciate his sarcasm but I spoke before it could turn into a spat, "Just call them and ask about the mirror because you want to buy it, antiques and stuff." Sam looked at me and nodded.

"Who do you think I should start with?" Sam asked me this time.

"Uhh, not the mother, because she'll start crying if we ask her about her dead daughter; her father would probably be suspicious. Does she have any siblings?"

"Yeah, she has a brother," he said.

"Well, try him first then."

He nodded then took out his cellphone, flipping it open to dial the number that was listed next to each name. I sat back in the backseat of the car listening to Def Leppard's Rock of Ages as the road went by.

It takes an hour and fifty-one minutes to get to Fort Wayne from Toledo but Dean got us there in about fifty-eight minutes with the speed he drove at. It wouldn't take long for us to actually get back.

I looked at Sam again when I heard him start talking into the phone. "Hello, is this Mr. Worthington?" He paused. "My name is Mike Smith," I laughed at the random name he came up with. "I recently saw a picture of an antique mirror I heard you owned and I own an antique store close to Fort Wayne, I was wondering if maybe you can sell it to me?" I smiled at the excuse he came up with; it was pretty believable except for the picture of the mirror thing.

He paused for a long moment this time, listening to whatever the guy told him. "Oh, really? Ah, that's too bad, Mr. Worthington. I would have paid a lot for that mirror. Okay, well, maybe next time. Alright, thanks." He hung up.

"So?" Dean asked him.

"Mary's brother said that the mirror was in the family for years, until he sold it," he looked at Dean with a grimace, "one week ago to a store called Estate Antiques. A store in Toledo."

Dean shook his head at our bad luck, "So wherever the mirror goes, that's where Mary goes?

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

"No, not somehow, it's for sure. Don't you remember the old superstition that says mirrors can capture spirits?" I reminded them. "When someone would die in a house people would cover up the mirrors so the ghost wouldn't get trapped."

"So Mary dies in front of a mirror, and it draws in her spirit," Dean theorizes.

"Yeah, but how could she move through like a hundred different mirrors?" Sam questioned.

"I don't know, but if the mirror is the source, I say we find it and smash it," Dean glanced at us then looked back at the road.

Smash it. That really was our best shot. You can't burn glass, can you?

"Yeah, I don't know, maybe." Sam said as he turned around in his seat and looked at the road. There was nothing we could do now except wait till we get to Toledo.

Sam's phone suddenly rang and he flipped open, putting it to his ear. "Hello?"

Suddenly, he sat up straight and a concerned look came on his face. "Charlie?" He paused. "Charlie, calm down. You're saying you saw her?"

"Sam, tell her to go somewhere with no mirrors and to not look at anything that reflects until we get there." I told him.

He repeated it into the phone then flipped it shut. Without a word, Dean pressed the gas pedal and the car flew on the road.

"Guys, cover up all the mirrors. The TV, the windows, the picture frames on the wall. Charlie, I'm gonna walk you over to the bed, okay? Don't open your eyes." I told her still holding her hands so that she wouldn't trip.

I slowly walked her over to the nearest bed to the door, and then made her sit down. "Put your head on your knees," I ordered just to make sure she couldn't see the bloody bitch anywhere. I sat next to her as I watched Dean and Sam cover everything up with sheets. Then Sam took down all the pictures off the wall and placed them face-down on the other bed.

Sam came over and sat on the other side of the bed, "Hey, hey it's ok. Hey, you can open up your eyes, Charlie. It's okay, alright?" He said so softly and Charlie looked up slowly. "Now listen. You're gonna stay right here on this bed, and you're not gonna look at glass, or anything else that has a reflection, okay? And as long as you do that, she cannot get you." Sam continued, gently.

"But I can't keep that up forever. I'm gonna die, aren't I?"

"No. No. Not anytime soon." I shook my head firmly.

Dean came and sat on the bed, too, "Alright, Charlie. We need to know what happened." Dean said in that same soft tone he used with people like Charlie.

"We were in the bathroom. Donna said it." She explained.

"That's not what we're talking about," she looked at him, understanding what he meant, and a tear fell from her eye. "Something happened, didn't it? In your life…a secret…where someone got hurt. Can you tell us about it?"

"I had this boyfriend," she started and I noticed Sam look up at Dean then down at the bed and I frowned. "I loved him. But he kind of scared me too, you know? And one night, at his house, we got in this fight…then I broke up with him, and he got upset, and he said he needed me and he loved me…and he said 'Charlie, if you walk out that door right now, I'm gonna kill myself'. And you know what I said? I said 'Go ahead'. And I left. How could I say that?" She looked at Dean. "How could I leave him like that? I just…I didn't believe him, you know? I should have." She put her face back on her knees and started crying again. But my attention was on Sam who was looking guiltily at Dean then back at Charlie.

Dean looked away from Charlie and at the room, I didn't know what he was thinking but I wanted to tell him about Sam. I didn't know if Sam felt actually guilty about Jessica's death but I knew for a fact that he had no reason to.

"Okay, Charlie. Listen, Sam, Lexi, and I will go take care of this, alright? We'll be back before you know it." Charlie looked up at him, a terrified look on her face.

"Wait," I said as I got up off the bed and ran to my duffle bag, quickly getting out my iPod and walking back over to the bed. "Here, listen to some music; try to get some sleep if you can." I smiled gently at her. She hesitated at first but then she took it from my hand.

"Thanks," she managed a small smile.

"No problem." I turned to Dean. "Let's go?"

He nodded and we all filed through the door, closing it behind us. It was raining so we rushed to the car parked in front of the motel room.

Once we were all dryly inside, Dean turned to us. "We don't know where the store is," he said.

"It's on Floyd Street, Mary's brother told me." Sam stated. Dean nodded and pulled out of the parking lot, hitting the road.

I washed the rain drip down the window for a moment before I leaned over the front seat between Sam and Dean. "You know her boyfriend killing himself, that's not really Charlie's fault," I said, going for subtle.

"You know as well as I do spirits don't exactly see shades of gray, Lexi." He looked at me tightly. "Charlie had a secret, someone died, that's good enough for Mary."

Uhuh. Right. I sat back in my seat, "I guess."

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

Dean looked at him, "Why, what do you mean?"

"Well, Mary's hard to pin down, right? I mean she moves around from mirror to mirror so who's to say that she's not just gonna keep hiding in them forever? So maybe we should try to pin her down, you know, summon her to her mirror and then smash it."

Oh my god. Sam thought he could do it. Sam thought that Bloody Mary would come after him because Jessica's death was his fault.

"Well, how do you know that's going to work?" I challenged him, raising my eyebrows.

"I don't, not for sure."

"Who's gonna summon her?" Dean asked him this time, a sarcastic smile on his face.

It took Sam a moment to answer him, but when he did we all looked at him in shock, "I will. She'll come after me."

Dean turned back to the road, shook his head with the smile on his face that meant he was pissed as hell…probably even more, "You know what, that's it," then suddenly the car turned to the right and we came to a stop on the side of the road. Dean turned the engine off then fully turned in the driver's seat to face Sam. "This is about Jessica, isn't it?" He paused, waiting for Sam to answer but then continued when he looked away, "You think that's your dirty little secret that you killed her somehow? Sam, this has got to stop, man. I mean, the nightmares and, and calling her name out in the middle of the night—it's gonna kill you. Now listen to me—it wasn't your fault. If you wanna blame something, then blame the thing that killed her. Or hell, why don't you take a swing at me? I mean I'm the one that dragged you away from her in the first place."

But Sam looked at him sharply, "I don't blame you."

"Well, you shouldn't blame yourself, because there's nothing you could've done."

"I could've warned her," Sam faced Dean.

"About what?! You didn't know what was gonna happen!" Dean raised his hand in the air waving, "And besides, all of this isn't a secret, I mean I know all about it. It's not gonna work with Mary anyway."

"No, you don't." Sam quietly said.

"I don't what?"

"You don't know all about it. I haven't told you everything."

For a moment, Dean looked at Sam not understanding what he said but then comprehension settled in and Dean looked sharply at me, silently asking me what the hell Sam meant but I cringed into the seat I was backed into and shook my head.

"What are you talking about?" Dean asked him.

"Well, it wouldn't really be a secret if I told you, would it?" Sam said. Dean raised his eyebrows at Sam and leaned back like he was seeing Sam for the first time.

A mix of emotions played out on Dean's face, there was anger, shock, surprise, and hurt. But the surprise stood out the most. He looked at the road for a second then turned back to Sam with a tilt to his head. "No. I don't like it. It's not gonna happen, forget it," Dean said in the don't-argue-with-me tone.

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

Dean didn't say anything after that but the silence that followed spoke louder than anything Dean might've said. He turned back into his seat and restarted the engine, checking his mirrors before he turned back onto the road.

The tension in the car felt suffocating, making it hard to breathe; unconsciously, I tried not to move noticeably, I really didn't want Dean's pending emotions to explode on me. It was always best to leave Dean alone when he got into these kinds of moods.

Thankfully, we didn't have to stay cooped up in the car for long because soon we pulled in front of the antique store. It was one in the morning now, so the shop was closed and the neighborhood was very quiet. Dean parked the car in an alley next to the shop before he turned the car off. He hesitated for a moment in the car as if he wanted to say something but then he shook his head and opened the door.

We all got out of the car before we walked to the back, waiting for Dean to open the trunk and hand us each a crowbar and a flashlight. Then he closed the trunk shut and made our way to the store.

The door had a metal gate with glass panes between each pole. The door had one of those old locks that could be picked easily. Sam crouched down and started working on unlocking the door while Dean and I watched for anyone on the street.

It was a minute before Sam finally got the door open and we all went inside before I closed the door without noise. We turned on our flashlights and I directed it in front of me.

This wasn't an antique store, it was a mirror store. Literally, every corner had a mirror, all different shapes and sizes. There was never anything easy, was there? I heard Dean talk behind me, "Well…that's just great." He walked towards Sam, holding up a piece of paper in front of his flashlight so that we knew which mirror we were after. But I already had its frame memorized. "Alright, let's start looking."

We walked further inside the store; it was filled with all kinds of things. From wooden radios to the telephones with the rotary dial, there was a vintage couch and all sorts old things. I could hear about a dozen clocks ticking and it sounded strangely like the background music of a scary movie.

I saw Dean go inside a room and Sam continue straightforward before I noticed something blinking red. Shining my flashlight on where I spotted the blinking, I immediately knew what it was. "Shit! Dean!"

"What?" He ran to me.

"I think you just tripped a motion detector," I said as I pointed the device hidden in an open closet. He looked at it surprised.

"Sorry," he looked sheepish. "Let's just find the mirror fast and get out of here. C'mon."

We walked further into the store and I saw Sam on the other side of a fence-like thing. "Maybe they've already sold it," Dean called out when we passed by ten mirrors, none of which looked like the one we wanted.

We kept walking around the store, our flashlights lighting up our way before we heard Sam speak a minute later. "I don't think so."

Quickly, we all went to where Sam was standing staring intently at something. And yup, there it was. Standing there in all its terrifying goriness and suddenly, Bloody Mary seemed a lot more real. I shivered as I felt coldness run down my spine.

Dean held up the piece of paper again and we compared it to the one in front of us. It was a mirror image of the one in front of us—no pun intended.

"That's it." Dean sighed, "You sure about this?" Sam silently handed Dean the flashlight.

He walked closer, us following right behind him, so that we could see ourselves in the mirror. I saw Sam stare at himself and I looked at myself in the mirror. My eyes were wide and my chest kept going up and down with every breath I took, just a tiny bit faster than normal. The black shirt I was wearing was bunched up around my waist and my jeans had a smudge of dirt around the bottom before they disappeared into my boots.

I focused back on Sam when he held the crowbar firmly in his hand then taking a deep breath, he said them. "Bloody Mary. Bloody Mary," he looked at Dean then at me and we both gave him unsure looks before he held up the crowbar and said it one last time. "Bloody Mary."

We waited with held breaths for any sort of reaction that would indicate Mary has indeed heard us and is on her way to grace us with her presence. We were all watching the mirror so closely that we missed the sound of the car pulling up, instead we noticed the police car outside when its light shone on the mirror. Dean looked severely at the door, back at us, then back at the door. "I'll go check that out. Stay here, be careful." He pointed at us and we both readied the crowbar. "Smash anything that moves!" Dean ordered.

He hunched down and walked away slowly towards the front door. I turned back to the mirror and huddled closer to Sam, he stepped in front of me a bit similar to the way he'd stand if there was actually something coming to attack us. Then I realized that the instinct to protect me was so deeply ingrained, he did it unconsciously.

Before I could actually start blabbing about my girly emotions, I felt her. I didn't hear anything or see her but I could tell she was here. I looked around us at all the mirrors and kept darting from one to the other looking at anything that resembled a bloody girl.

Finally, I saw her and I immediately smashed the mirror to my right. I heard a low growl that didn't sound human at all but I didn't get a good look at her. My heart was beating so fast, I barely heard Sam smash the mirror behind him over the pounding in my ears.

We both stood close to each other again in front of the mirror we wanted her in and raised our crowbars. "C'mon," Sam said. "Come into this one."

Suddenly, or more like slowly actually, Sam's breathing evened though I could still feel him breathing hard beside me. I was looking at Sam in the mirror and he dropped his head low before a really evil smirk appeared on his face. "Uhh, Sam?" I looked at him not understanding what he was doing.

Then I actually looked over at him next to me and I saw his head tilted in confusion. Except when I looked back in the mirror, he was still smirking darkly.

I heard Sam gasp beside me and I looked at him not knowing what was going on.

I froze when I saw blood trickle down from his eyes. The veins in his face pulsed and he dropped the crowbar before he fell onto his knees. "Shit! Sam! Sam!" I held him quickly so that he didn't fall over and wiped the blood from his face except more just fell down and I looked up desperately at the front of the store wishing for Dean to come quickly.

Then I remembered Bloody Mary and I looked for her in the mirrors so that I could smash her ugly face in but she wasn't anywhere. Then I heard Sam's voice except it wasn't coming from the Sam I was holding. I looked back at the mirror and a shocked breath left my lungs when I saw him still standing.

"It's your fault. You killed her. You killed Jessica," Sam told Sam.

Shit, Shit! What do I do now? Does this count as Bloody Mary? Would she die if I smash the mirror in even though technically this wasn't her? Oh god. "Lexi." Sam half-groaned and half-gasped out.

Sam clutched his heart and he closed his eyes, leaning all of his weight on me. That made my decision for me; I grabbed the crowbar that I dropped on the ground when Sam fell then stood up when I braced Sam on his back. "You never told her the truth—who you really were," Sam gasped on the floor, pressing his hand against his heart. "But it's more than that, isn't it? Those nightmares you've been having of Jessica dying, screaming, burning—"

"Go to hell." I smashed the crowbar into the mirror so hard I nearly fell because the mirror couldn't support the force I put against it. I watched it crumble to pieces on the floor then dropped the crowbar when the pieces didn't move back into the mirror and fix itself.

"Sam?! Sammy," I fell on my knees and held Sam's face trying to asses all the damage.

"It's Sam," he grunted out. I held him close to me, suddenly smiling at the old argument. I heard the sound of footsteps rushing towards us and then Dean was suddenly there too. All of us in some weird, bloody hug.

"Shit, Sam? What happened?!" Dean freaked out but I shook my head.

"We ran into Bloody Mary, that's all." I told him and he looked at me for a moment trying to see if I was hurt, too.

"God, are you okay?" Dean asked him.

"Uh, yeah." And I sighed in relief. I fell back letting Sam's weight fall onto Dean so he could lift him back up.

"Let's get out of here," I said as I picked up the crowbars and stood up.

Dean put Sam's arm over his neck and lifted him back up. We began walking towards the front door until we heard a screech from somewhere behind us. We froze before we slowly turned around to stare at Mary crawling through the frame of the mirror the exact same way Samara came out of the TV in The Ring. We fully turned around to see her crawling over the broken glass. Mary, in a flash, stood up and started walking towards us.

"Uhh, guys?" I called out to them.

Both Sam and Dean suddenly gasped and they fell to the ground, the bloody tears falling down their faces. Did Dean had a secret too where someone died? What is this? An episode of 'Time for Your Secrets to Bring You at Mary's Feet'?

I looked around quickly and found a mirror. If Mary killed people through mirrors, then maybe she'd kill herself through a mirror, too. Both Dean and Sam were gasping now and I grabbed the frame and put it directly in front of Mary so that she saw her own reflection.

She stopped walking and she looked up, her hair not falling into her eyes anymore. She was honestly pretty and I stared at her, suddenly seeing her for the first time. She was so young and I felt sorry for the girl that died years ago. But now this wasn't her and she made herself know that. "You killed them! All those people! You killed them!" A rough, growly demonic voice said.

Then she started choking, the same tear tracks of blood running down her face. Her body oddly seized up then she literally melted, falling down onto the floor into a million broken pieces of mirror.

I held up the mirror I was holding then threw it in the same pile of glass, watching it hit the floor and shatter into countless pieces. I fell down between Sam and Dean suddenly when my heart stopped pumping adrenaline into my blood.

"Are you okay?" I looked at Sam and Dean's faces, looking for any permanent damage. They both nodded at me and I finally relaxed.

"Hey, guys?" Dean broke the silence.

"Yeah?" Sam and I replied.

"This has got to be like…what? Six hundred years of bad luck?"

Sam chuckled weakly as I shook my head fondly. That was a close call.

"I'm so proud of you, Lexi, facing your fears and all," Dean grinned cheekily before standing up and reaching for Sam too.

"Shut up." I rolled my eyes.

"Charlie?" I called out as we got in the room.

Then I saw her huddled on the bed with the headphones blaring into her ears. I walked over to her then patted her on the back.

Out of nowhere, she jumped up and screamed. "Jesus! Charlie! It's just us!" I held up my hands as she got a good look at us.

"Sorry. You scared me," she said embarrassedly. "Oh my god, what happened?" She asked Dean and Sam as she spotted the bloody tear tracks even though they wiped their faces in the car.

"Long story, we need to make sure it's over, Charlie, okay?" I asked her gently when Sam brought one of the mirrors to the bed. She flinched away from it then looked at me.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," I nodded firmly.

Sam took the sheet off of the mirror then put down in front of her. She stared into it, her eyes darting back and forth. We waited a minute before Dean spoke up, "Do you see anything?"

She shook her head, "No."

I sighed in relief, "Go to sleep, Charlie, we'll take you to your house in the morning." Sam said.

Dean made a right turn then another one before coming to a stop in front of the house Charlie pointed at. He turned off the car before looking over at Charlie sitting next to me in the backseat.

She blew out a breath, "So this is really over?"

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

"Thank you," she said as she reached for Dean's hand shaking it before leaning over the seat and giving me a brief hug. Then she opened the door and got out, walking to her house.

"Charlie?" Sam abruptly called out. She turned back around and stared at Sam, "Your boyfriend's death…you really should try to forgive yourself. No matter what you did, you probably couldn't have stopped it. Sometimes bad things just happen."

Dean and I looked over at him in surprise but he watched Charlie as she smiled faintly then turned around, walking towards the house.

Dean slapped his hand gently against Sam's arm, "That's good advice," Dean said proudly.

Sam smiled at him then turned back to the road as Dean started the car and went back onto the main road.

"Hey, Sam?" Dean said after a while.

"Yeah?"

"Now, that this is all over, I want you to tell me what that secret is," and I looked over at Sam too because I really was curious.

"Look…you're my brother and I'd die for you, but there are some things I need to keep to myself." Sam said.

Dean looked at him, disappointed then back at the road but he didn't press the issue further. Sam looked out the window and then his eyes focused on something. He kept looking at it with a shocked look on his face but when I looked over too, I couldn't find anything. He kept looking for a few moments before he settled back and I let it go.

"Lex?" Dean said again when we passed a few miles. My eyes found his in the rearview mirror.

"Yeah?"

"Who's Lucas?"

Fuck.