Disclaimer: Not mine

Chapter 7

Dean scanned through the paper, looking at the crimes and obituaries absently while waiting for Sammy to return with breakfast. They'd stopped for the night in Toledo, Ohio, and he was itching for another hunt. He knew Sammy only really did it to keep him happy and that made him happy, to know Sammy cared so much. Demon hunts and going after hunters were the only hunts Sammy was really interested in. He paused as he read an obituary, focusing.

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 at 2:00 p.m. at the Toledo crematorium. Cause of death was…

Dean grimaced, looked like they might have a case here. He got the laptop out and began researching the man. The door opened, and he looked up, smiling as Sammy entered with a tray of tea cups and take away plates of muesli, eggs, yoghurt and fruit salad. "I think I found a hunt," he said before sipping his tea. He knew he used to eat different food, before being made a slave and a small part of his mind knew he must have been made to like this kind over what he used to eat, but he had noticed a change since eating healthier food. He had more energy, felt more alert, and he had noticed he had lost weight around the middle. He had to look his best for Sammy and this helped.

"Let me see," Sam said, and Dean showed him the obituary and information he had found so far online. "Good work," he praised, and Dean smiled. "Family or morgue first?"

Dean blinked, he got to choose? He used to choose all the time and he had obviously made very bad choices, so he had to think this over. "Morgue," he finally said. "We can look for evidence on the body before disturbing the family?"

"Sounds good to me."

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They slipped silently into the morgue, Sammy using a spell to put the morgue attendant into a deep sleep at his desk. Dean pulled out the drawer and grimaced as he saw the ruined mess where the man's eyes had once been. Sam grabbed the paperwork and began reading it. "According to this his daughter found him, bleeding from the eyes, in the bathroom. Cause of death is Intense cerebral bleeding."

"His eyes look like they exploded!" Dean looked at Sammy who shrugged and did his own, more magical, examination before nodding.

"There's something… not sure what, but this is not natural causes."

"So, we have a case," Dean grinned, and Sam nodded. They left the morgue without anyone ever knowing they had been there and drove to the Shoemaker house. they each touched the woven leather bracelet they now wore, to conserve magic Sam had made them, weaving an illusion spell into them. They would show them wearing whatever outfit was appropriate for the occasion. They walked in to find the house full of people in suits and were glad for the illusions considering Sam was in jeans and shirt and Dean was in his normal outfit.

A man pointed them towards Donna and Lily Shoemaker, who were with their friends Jill and Charlie. "You must be Donna, right?" Dean asked as they joined them.

"Yeah," Donna looked at them, not recognising them.

"Hi, uh—we're really sorry," Sam offered awkwardly, it was hard, faking sympathy all the time.

"Thank you," she gave him a shaky smile.

"I'm Sam, this is Dean. We worked with your Dad."

"You did?"

"Yeah. This whole thing. I mean, a stroke," Dean shrugged.

"I don't think she really wants to talk about this right now," Charlie butted in defensively.

"It's okay. I'm okay," Donna reassured her.

"Were there any symptoms? Dizziness? Migraines?" Dean pushed, and Donna frowned at him.

"No."

"That's because it wasn't a stroke," Lily said as she turned to face them.

"Lily don't say that," Donna hissed.

"What?" Sam asked her.

"I'm sorry, she's just upset," Donna offered.

"No, it happened because of me."

"Sweetie, it didn't."

"Lily," Sam crouched slightly to get to eye level with Lily. "Why would you say something like that?"

"Right before he died, I said it."

"You said what?"

"Bloody Mary, three times in the bathroom mirror," she shivered. "She took his eyes, that's what she does."

"That's not why Dad died. This isn't your fault," Donna argued, not believing her.

"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?" Dean asked, and she shook her head.

"No, I don't think so," the twelve-year-old answered hesitantly. Dean grinned at her and they moved off, wanting to look around.

They eventually managed to make their way upstairs and into the bathroom, still some dried blood on the floor. "The Bloody Mary legend...John ever find any evidence that it was a real thing?"

"Not that I know of," Dean answered as Sam stooped to the floor and touched the dried blood.

"I mean, everywhere else all over the country, kids will play Bloody Mary, and as far as we know, nobody dies from it."

"Yeah, well, maybe everywhere it's just a story, but here it's actually happening."

"The place where the legend began?" Sam offered, smiling to have Dean talk it out with him. Dean shrugged and opened the medicine cabinet. "But according to the legend, the person who says B—" Sam paused and looked at the medicine cabinet mirror, which now faced him, and closed it. "The person who says you know what gets it. But here—"

"Shoemaker gets it instead, yeah."

"Right."

"Never heard anything like that before. 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 agreed. Hearing someone coming they quickly left the room to find Charlie staring at them.

"What are you doing up here?" she demanded.

"We—we, had to go to the bathroom."

"Who are you?"

"Like we said downstairs, we worked with Donna's dad," Dean answered.

"He was a day trader or something. He worked by himself."

"No, I know, I meant—"

"And all those weird questions downstairs, what was that? So, you tell me what's going on, or I start screaming," she warned, backing away.

"All right, all right. We think something happened to Donna's dad."

"Yeah, a stroke."

"That's not a sign of a typical stroke. We think it might be something else."

"Like what?" She demanded.

"Honestly? We don't know yet. But we don't want it to happen to anyone else. That's the truth," Sam answered, ready to act to keep her from screaming or making a scene.

"So, if you're gonna scream, go right ahead," he knew Sammy wouldn't allow her to actually scream.

"Who are you, cops?"

"Something like that," Dean answered.

"I'll tell you what. Here." Sam reached into his pocket, pulled out a paper and pen, and started writing down his cell number. "If you think of anything, you or your friends notice anything strange, out of the ordinary...just give us a call." He handed it to her and they left.

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Dean groaned and stood to stretch, they were getting nowhere. The myth was too well known with too many versions, it was impossible to track down the original version. Sammy was at the library, looking at old newspapers for any Mary's who had died near mirrors in Toledo. He stretched out on the bed and absently traced the faint line of runes permanently marked into his skin, marking him as a slave, property. Why didn't he miss being free? Was that part of the spell? Not that it mattered, he was happier than he had ever been as Sammy's slave, it wasn't like Sammy made him do anything. He picked up John's journal, skimming through it and a photo fell out. He picked it up and smiled, he remembered that summer, John had been gone hunting and had left them with Bobby. Bobby… he had always tried to look out for them, Dean knew he'd helped Sammy get to Stanford…was he evil? Maybe they could explain things to him?

Dean blinked and picked up his phone as it rang. "Sammy?"

"Charlie called, meet me at the park neat the Shoemaker house."

"On my way."

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"And they found her on the bathroom floor. And her—her eyes. They were gone," Charlie sobbed, and Sam put a hand on her shoulder as Dean jogged up.

"I'm sorry."

"And she said it. I heard her say it. But it couldn't be because of that. I'm insane, right?"

"No, you're not insane," Dean said as he realised what had happened.

"Oh God, that makes me feel so much worse," she groaned.

"Look. We think something's happening here. Something that can't be explained. And we're gonna stop it but we could use your help," Sam told her. She looked up and nodded shakily so they drove to Jill's house and Charlie went in while they made their way around the side, waiting for a window to open before climbing up and in. "What did you tell Jill's mom?"

"Just that I needed some time alone with Jill's pictures and things," she answered, watching as Sam pulled something out of the bag and Dean shut the curtains. "I hate lying to her."

"Trust us, this is for the greater good. Hit the lights."

She went and turned the lights off. "What are you guys looking for?"

"We'll let you know as soon as we find it," Sam promised as he handed Dean the digital camera, night vision turned on. He opened Jill's closet door and began filming around the mirror. "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?"

"Beats me," Dean answered as Sam closed the closet door. "I want to know why Jill said it in the first place."

"It's just a joke," Charlie offered weakly.

"Yeah well somebody's gonna say it again, it's just a matter of time." Dean shook his head, why did people fool around with things like that?

Sam was in the bathroom filming around the mirror when he stopped and saw trickles of something running out from behind the mirror. "Hey," he called, and Dean peered in. "There's a black light in the trunk, right?" Sam carried the mirror out to Jill's bed and laid it on the bed upside down while Dean went for the black light. Sam peeled off the brown paper that was on the back of the mirror, shining the black light over the back of the mirror to reveal a handprint, and the words "Gary Bryman."

"Gary Bryman?" Charlie asked in confusion.

"You know who that is?" Sam asked, and she shook her head.

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"You're doing a nationwide search?" Sam asked as he got a look at the laptop, drying his hair from the shower before tying it back, for some reason he couldn't bring himself to cut it and it did come in handy for spells and potions. His hair was incorporated in their bracelets. Dean's was looking a little less neat than his normal military-like cut too these days.

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

"But if she's haunting the town, she should have died in the town," Sam pointed out and he saw some of the excitement fade from Dean. Even when he wasn't actively using the bond Dean sought his approval.

"I'm telling you there's nothing local, I've checked. So, unless you got a better idea—"

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

"I know, I was thinking the same thing," Dean grinned, happy to be thinking the same things as the brainy one of the family.

"With mister Shoemaker and Jill's hit and run," Sam sat on the edge of the bed, watching Dean work.

"Both had secrets where people died."

"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."

"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 offered, and Sam grimaced.

"Whether you're the one that summoned her or not."

"Take a look at this," Dean was surprised to find something that just might fit, turning it so Sammy could see better. It was a picture of a woman lying by a mirror in a puddle of blood. Dean printed out another picture and handed it to Sammy. The picture was of a handprint and the letters "Tre"

"Looks like the same handprint," Sam agreed.

"Her name was Mary Worthington—an unsolved murder in Fort Wayne, Indiana."

"Guess we're hitting the road then," Sam went to pack and Dean closed up his work.

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"I mean, you bring these strangers into my house and they ask me things like that?" Donna demanded as they went upstairs, and Charlie winced.

"They were only trying to help. Please, DONNA, you have to believe me."

"What? About Bloody Mary?" She sneered as they stopped in front of the hall mirror.

"Please, I know it sounds crazy—"

"Crazy doesn't even begin to cover it. I mean it's one thing for my sister to believe this crap, she's 12. But you?"

"Think about the way your dad died, okay? And the way Jill died," Charlie pleaded, why couldn't she see?

"Okay so," Donna turned full on to the mirror. "Bloody Mary."

"No!"

"Bloody Mary. Bloody Mary." She turned back to face Charlie. "See? Nothing happened."

"Why would you do that?"

"Oh my God. There really is something wrong with you," Donna shook her head and left her in the hallway.

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"Oh really? Ah that's too bad Mr. Worthington. I would have paid a lot for that mirror. Okay, well maybe next time. All right, thanks." Dean hung up and looked at Sam who was driving back to Toledo.

"So?"

"So that was Mary's brother. The mirror was in the family for years, until he sold it one week ago to a store called Estate Antiques. A store in Toledo."

"So, wherever the mirror goes, that's where Mary goes?" Sam pondered. "Her spirits definitely tied up with it somehow."

"Isn't there an old superstition that says mirrors can capture spirits?" Dean asked.

"Yeah there is. When someone would die in a house people would cover up the mirrors, so the ghost wouldn't get trapped. Magic can do that too, trap a spirit in a mirror, before death."

"So, Mary dies in front of a mirror, and it draws in her spirit. But how could she move through like a hundred different mirrors?"

"I don't know, but if the mirror is the source, we need to find it and smash it." He phone rang, and Dean grabbed it to answer.

"Hello, Sam's phone," he answered, it took a lot of effort to say Sam instead of Sammy. "Charlie?" he listened to her, eyes widening, and Sam pressed the gas a little more firmly.

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Charlie sat on the bed with her head on her knees while Sam and Dean had all of the curtains drawn shut, and were throwing sheets over the mirrors, or facing them to the wall or floor.

Dean sat next to her. "Hey, hey it's ok. Hey, you can open up your eyes Charlie. It's okay, all right?" he coaxed, 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."

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

"No. No. Not anytime soon," Sam promised.

"All right Charlie. We need to know what happened," Dean looked around for a glass of water and it floated over, curtesy of Sammy. He gave it to her and she sipped.

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

"That's not what we're talking about. Something happened, didn't it? In your life...a secret...where someone got hurt. Can you tell us about it?" Sam told her and she flinched.

"I had this boyfriend. 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? 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.

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Sam easily got the door open with magic and they slipped into the store, seeing a lot of mirrors.

"Well...that's just great," Dean muttered as he pulled out the picture of Mary's dead body to look at the mirror. "All right let's start looking." They split up and walked around the store. "Maybe they've already sold it."

"I don't think so," Sam called as he stopped in front of a mirror. Dean walked over to him and pulled out the picture again to compare. It was the mirror.

"That's it. You sure about this?" Dean asked, terrified for Sam, this was a bad idea.

Sam smiled and took a deep breath, pulling up his magic and pushing it into the mirror. "Bloody Mary. Bloody Mary." He looks at Dean who gives an unsure look back. Sam picked up a crowbar, readying a spell as well. "Bloody Mary." They waited in silence and then Sammy smashed the crowbar into a mirror, aiming at something Dean couldn't see. He smashed another one and Dean was getting very nervous. "Come on. Come into this one," Sam muttered as he turned to Mary's mirror. He blinked and looked oddly at his reflection, which had now taken a mind of its own like Jill's. Sam started having trouble breathing and had a trickle of blood coming out of his eye. He dropped the crowbar and grabbed his heart, magic slipping away.

"SAMMY!" Dean caught him and tugged him away from the mirror. He then picked up the crowbar and smashed Mary's mirror. "Sam Sammy!"

"M'okay," Sam slurred, wiping at the blood on his face.

"God, are you okay?" Dean saw the blood and fell to his knees beside him.

"Uh, yeah."

"Come on, come on." He pulled Sam up, putting Sam's arm over his neck, and they began to walk out, until Mary crawled out of the frame of the mirror. They turned around to see her crawling over the broken glass. May walked towards them and they both fell to the ground. They both started bleeding from the eyes, but Dean reached up and pulled over a mirror so that Mary was forced to see her own reflection.

"You killed them! All those people! You killed them!" the reflection told her, and Mary started choking to death, melting into a pile of blood. Dean threw down the mirror he held, and it shattered.

"Hey Sammy?"

"Yeah?"

"This has got to be like...what? 600 years of bad luck?" he asked, and Sam chuckled weakly.

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Dean lay on the bed, letting Sammy take care of him. Charlie was safely home, and Mary was gone, a job well done. He had a headache from Mary's attack…but what secret did he have? Sammy had used magic to call her to him but how had she attacked him too? "Sammy?"

"Yeah Dean?" he finished cleaning the blood away and gently smeared on a healing salve just to be safe.

"What was my secret?"

"I…I don't know. Maybe to do with an old hunt? Someone you thought you could have saved?"

"I guess…" Dean closed his eyes, cuddling down in the blankets. "No mirrors for a while?"

"Yeah Dean, no more mirrors," Sammy smiled before stripping off to join him, holding him close.

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Sam looked at the article and was surprised. Zack Warren had been arrested for murder. He knew Zack, and his sister Rebecca, they'd almost been friends before…before Jess. Zack hadn't struck him as a murderer but maybe he'd been wrong. It wasn't their kind of job, so he put it aside and moved on, half-heartedly looking for work while Dean showered. He was then distracted when Dean walked out, hair damp, and naked, Dean grinned, and Sam pounced.

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Tracing rumours was annoying, but this newly awakened witch was good at shielding. She'd finally tracked them to Stanford University of all places where she found some very interesting spell traces. There were signs of a deal witch as well which was more concerning, especially with those spells. She may be too late, but she would not stop looking.

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Dean knelt on the floor, head down, loving the feeling of his Master's fingers in his hair as Master did something at the table.

"Interesting…" Master mumbled and Dean instantly focused fully.

"Master?"

"Just work Dean, nothing to worry about," Master assured him.

"Yes Master," Dean answered, Master did important work, he shouldn't interrupt. And then he was being tugged up and into Master's lap and he leant into him, seeing Master smile.

"I love you Dean."

"I love you Master," Dean told him, Master was his world, his everything. Master kissed him, and Dean mewled in pleasure.

"Sometimes I wish you were always like this," Master whispered, and Dean frowned.

"I don't understand Master."

"I know," Sam gently stroked Dean's cheek and Dean leant into his touch, eyes full of adoration. Life was simpler when Dean was like this, just the two of them, no problems or distractions, just them. But then he would never see Dean's cheeky grin again, hear his teasing and he would miss that. Sam stood and got them out some food, feeding Dean as he ate. And then he kissed him, hands stroking over warm skin and Dean sighed in pleasure, relaxing, letting Sam do whatever he pleased.

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Dean snuck up behind the man and slipped his knife between his ribs, moving on as if nothing had happened, by the time the body dropped his was out of sight and feeling proud of himself for managing it alone. He met up with Sammy who kissed him, proud of him. One less monster in the world.

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Sam parked outside the fraternity, very glad he had never joined one. "One more time, why are we here?"

"Victim lived here." They walked up to some guys fixing a car. "Nice wheels." They looked at Dean strangely. "We're your fraternity brothers. From Ohio. We're new in town. Transfers. Looking for a place to stay," he grinned, and they relaxed, pointing them inside.

Inside they found a shirtless frat boy in yellow shorts painting his face and body purple. "Who are you?" he asked when they knocked.

"We're your new roommates," Dean smiled and walked over to the boy. The boy held the brush and paint can out to DEAN. "Do me a favour? Get my back. Big game today."

"He's the artist. Things he can do with a brush," Dean grinned as Sammy, mortified, took the brush and can. Dean sat on a chair and picked up a magazine. "So," he looked at the name on the magazine, "Murph. Is it true?"

"What?"

"We heard one of the guys around here got killed last week."

"Yeah," Murph answered sadly.

"What happened?" Sam asked as he painted.

"They're saying some psycho with a knife. Maybe a drifter passing through. Rich was a good guy."

"Rich he was with somebody?"

"Not just somebody. Lori Sorensen," Murph answered dreamily.

"Who's Lori Sorensen?" Now they had a name for the witness.

"Lori's a freshman. She's a local. Super-hot. And get this: she's a reverend's daughter," Murph grinned.

"You wouldn't happen to know which church, would ya?" Dean asked. As soon as they had the name they left, they had an invisible murderer to find.

TBC…