A/N: Wow, so sorry for the long wait. Honestly, I sort of forgot about this story. I hope I have a reader or two left. I've been working on getting my original fiction stories published (and, yay!, I've had a few bites so far), so I've been distracted from fanfiction.

Chapter 3: Karma is a Pair of Harem Pants

Mickey Mouse course or no, Foreign Film could suck the life out of Dean Winchester faster than a vampire on cheetah blood.

The final black and white sequence, wordless and dramatic, came to a dark close, and the lights flickered on. Sam frowned at the puddle of drool on his sleeve before shaking Dean off his arm. Dean sat up, wiped his smirking mouth, and shot his brother a wide grin.

"Best nap, ever," he muttered. "Gotta hand it to those Italians."

Sam raised a brow, voice hushed. "You missed the sex scene, man."

Dean blinked. "Nudity?"

"Full frontal."

"Liar."

"Claudia."

"Shit."

Sam coughed down his laugh, ribbing his brother once more when he realized their conversation was drawing annoyed glances from their fellow "classmates." Victim Three, Val's, chatty roommate, Katty, had opted to sit near the front instead of with her two guests, and was currently whispering snide remarks to the out-of-place sorority girl at her side. Dean automatically leaned back in dread when he saw her shoot him a fake smile. Thankfully, their professor stood, distracting Katty.

Dr. Mallard fit his name. Seriously. His nose was flat and long, his chin missing-in-action, and his lips protruding; together, the features greatly resembled a duck's beak. However, judging from the attentive behavior of the female students, a Darkwing Duck look-alike could get a lot of play in Alabama.

"L'Avventura, ladies and gentlemen, by famed director Michelangelo Antonioni," the professor said, sounding far too chipper. He clapped his hands together to gather the group's full attention. "Looks like we're all out of time for today. Next class, I want an essay response on the topic of feminism in L'Avventura. What does the film have to say about strong female protagonists?"

As soon as the assignment left his mouth, the last few rows were already empty, students piling out the door and into the land of Technicolor.

Waving an eager goodbye to Katty, Sam and Dean remained behind until the room emptied and only the professor remained. Dr. Mallard glanced up, as if just noticing them, and offered a small smile.

"Friends of Katty's?" he asked. The Winchesters paused, not answering, but Dr. Mallard went on. "We don't often get sit-ins. Are you interested in taking the course?"

Dean snorted.

Sam cleared his throat. "Maybe next semester. Actually, we were here because of Amy Murphy."

Dr. Mallard's face darkened. He nodded, as if to himself, biting his wide bottom lip. "Such a shame." His voice was low, at a near whisper. "It's been a hard semester for this class."

"Guess so," Dean noted, giving Sam a glance. "I hear those other girls that died, Lisa and Valerie, were in your class, too."

"Correct." Dr. Mallard looked up, eyes narrow. "The Murphy family sent you here, didn't they?"

"You caught us," Dean replied.

Sam took a heavy breath before playing along. "They just want to know what happened. You understand. She was their only daughter, and if these other girls might have known something. . . Anything that would explain why Amy did that to herself. . ."

"I do understand," Dr. Mallard agreed. "And I wish I could tell them something that would make the pain go away. But there's no simple answer. Lisa, Val, and Amy seemed like nice girls, good students. They jumped at the chance to be in the same group for their semester report."

"Report?"

"An oral report," Dr. Mallard continued. "Most of my students are Freshmen, so I have them practice their speaking skills at least once. The girls were basing theirs around a few of the Hindi films we reviewed in class, specifically a more recent film that references older Bollywood works. It's called Om Shanti Om. Amy adored it."

Dean licked his lip. "The report, what was the subject exactly?"

"Reincarnation."

"Sammy, I think you overplayed this whole 'college is hard' thing," Dean said, eyes sparkling with laughter. They walked out of the building and past a group of bikini clad girls taking part in a fundraising footrace.

"Law school is a little different from film class, Dean."

"Whatever," Dean snorted. "So, what are we thinking here? Some chick thinks her next life's gonna be better than 8 a.m. Calculus, which wouldn't it have to be?, and offs herself?"

"That's a big leap," Sam noted. He shrugged. "But, yeah, that's what I gathered, too. Still, something doesn't seem quite right. I think we should go to the scene of the 'suicide.'"

"Think Amy might show up to enlighten us?"

"That's the plan."

The fire alarm's steady, rhythmic squeal could be heard half-way across the campus, but it was upon seeing the mass of students standing in front of Grange dormitory that the brothers realized the exact source of the sound. The occupants were few, most of the students at work or in class by mid-afternoon, but the sounds of their anger and concern nearly drowned a secondary noise coming from the building's bottom floor. Between each beat of the siren was the sound of music, low, fading. And definitely Bolly in origin.

"It just started," a girl told her R.A., crossing her arms anxiously. "The fire department's not here yet."

The R.A., a man who looked a few years too old to still be living in the dormitories, scratched his scraggly chin, staring at the building. "Where'd it start?"

"Everywhere, on the walls, everywhere. But there wasn't any smoke-someone must have pulled the alarm when they saw the flames-but there wasn't any smoke. Not at all." Her reply was breathy, as if she'd ran a marathon in her escape.

"Dude, this isn't a kitchen accident," Dean hissed, pulling Sam through the crowd. "We need to get in there before we have more than Rent-a-Cop to deal with." He tossed his head in the direction of the campus security officer at the front doorway.

"The back entry," Sam noted. His hand slipped out, swiping an access card from a nearby student as he pushed past. "Let's go."

The glass doors of the back, basement entryway were not secured, and its position on the side of a hill left it a less than optimal place for students to wait out the alarms, so the brothers found themselves strangely alone amid the chaos.

"Nope, not natural," Sam concurred, stunned when he looked up past the doors. "What is this place?"

"It's not a movie theater, that's for damn sure."

Grange Dormitory was no longer a dormitory. Past the doors was a wide, open chamber that looked more like a manor's decorated floor than anything a public-funded university could afford. Flames, stark yellow and orange, danced along the walls, ran up the red curtains, slithered over the balcony. The fire blocked two swirling, ornamented staircases, and at the floor level, flanked by the curving shapes surrounding her, was a woman.

Dean put a hand against the glass. It was oddly cool to the touch, but he seemed not to notice, instead leaning in with wide eyes.

"Open the door, Sammy!" he snapped.

Sam tried the card once, again. Nothing. "I can't!"

Panicked eyes captured Dean's. The woman was beautiful and somewhat familiar. She was darker skinned, the neck of her gown glittering with rich silver details in the flame's glow. With one hand, she reached out, as if to touch the men watching her beyond the doors. The fear dropped from her expression, replaced with a look of longing and regret.

Dean took a quick step back, ready to kick in the doors. Sam grabbed his arms, stopping him from throwing his momentum forward.

"She's not real, Dean," Sam said, holding his brother against his chest. "She's a movie character. Like before. None of this is real!"

The flames roared upward, suddenly exploding in a cloud of fire that moved faster than the brothers. The glass doors blew outward, shattering into minute fragments. The blast threw Sam and Dean down the hillside.

Dean hit the pavement of the drive below with a thud. His fingers scratched at blacktop. "Felt real," the growled.

Sam groaned in reply. And looked up in time to see a car speeding towards them. Dean tackled him, pushing the two of them onto the sidewalk. The car went on, its driver unaware of the near miss.

The Winchesters stood, silent, attempting to catch their breath.

"That was fun," Sam managed.

Dean rolled a kink out of his shoulder, glancing up at the building. He shoved Sam and pointed skyward. "Check it out."

Up the hill, the interior of the bottom floor of the dormitory, without its glassy reflection to hide it from the outside world, was exposed. The fire was gone. Not a wisp of smoke as evidence of its existence. But Dean's hand lifted, pointing further up, a few floors higher. One of the windows had been blacked out, as if by soot. Written in the black grime was a word they could read, even from the distance: KARMA.

"Let me guess," Dean said, "Amy's room?"

"Yeah." Sam brushed glass off his jacket, shaking his head. "But this isn't what I'd define as Karma. Karma isn't a pair of harem pants and a movie sequence."

Dean raised a brow, confused. "Is if you're naughty."

"Dean, you know what I mean. This doesn't fit together. I recognized that actress, the woman in the fire. Dr. Mallard mentioned that Bollywood movie, Om Shanti Om. I think I remember seeing the cover art for it once, and I'm pretty sure that woman was its star." Sam rolled his eyes. "You know what this means, right?"

"We have to watch the frickin' movie, don't we?"

"Yup."

End Notes: Hope you enjoyed. Tell me what you think. I'll try to have the next chapter up soon.