With twelve percent of an actual plan in place, the trio wander into the antique shop once Sam has the lock picked. Any bit of hope Elizabeth has that the job will be a fairly easy one is dashed to pieces once they're inside out of the rain. Mirrors of all shapes and sizes are propped up against every available surface, some of them newer looking and others collecting dust in dark corners.
"Y'all ever wonder when we'll be able to catch a break," she asks as she looks around. "'Cause I'm starting to think we're being screwed over."
"And without the curtesy of a reach-around," Dean adds, pulling the folded picture out of his jacket. It's the one they'd looked at the night before, Mary dead in front of her mirror with her eyes gouged out. He holds it up and Sam focuses the beam of his flashlight on it so they can all see the right frame and height. "Alright, let's get this treasure hunt over with."
Armed with a flashlight and an iron crowbar, Elizabeth branches off towards the back and to the left, pausing every now and again to study the older mirrors. Why one antique shop needs so many mirrors is a complete mystery to her, but whatever. It'd be easier if they could turn on the lights, but she doubts the owner would take kindly to a high electric bill to match the willful destruction of private property.
"Goddammit," she hisses when her toe collides with a box of Christmas bulbs.
"You alright back there, Liza," Sam calls.
"Yeah, but the asshole that owns this place needs to keep his shit out of the aisles."
"I hear ya." Scowling, she scoots the box out of the way and continues to browse.
"Hey, maybe they already sold it," Dean says from somewhere behind her. Elizabeth tries to spot him, but he must be behind one of the larger mirrors. "I could always call in the morning and ask around. I'm pretty sure we could keep Charlie safe for eight hours."
"No need, it's right here." Elizabeth jogs over to where Sam's standing, Dean right behind her with the picture. He holds it up again and all three of them gaze from it to the tall mirror in front of them. It's an exact match, just missing the dead girl and half-written name on the glass. The wooden frame of it is even more detailed than in the grainy picture, swirls and sharp edges carved painstakingly into it.
"Who wants to start us off?"
"How about we all go on the count of three," Elizabeth suggests, not taking her gaze off the glass. Nerves has her stomach doing backflips, but she isn't going to back down like some kind of chicken. Dean lets out a deep breath, holding up three fingers and slowly lowering them one at a time.
"Bloody Mary," the three of them chant in unison, shoulders squared back. "Bloody Mary." Elizabeth slips her free hand into Sam's, her flashlight in her back pocket and her fingers curled around the cold iron of the crowbar. One more time will do it, Mary will be in the mirror and ready to scratch their eyes out or harvest them for parts. "Bloody Mary." All of them go tense and bring their weapons up, but the only extra reflection that joins theirs is light from outside.
"Fuck, that's the last thing we need," Dean grumbles, looking at the headlight beams over his shoulder. "I'll go and check it out, but you two be careful."
"When aren't we careful," Sam remarks, though his smile isn't as sure as it usually is. He's just as nervous as Elizabeth is, but he wants to be brave for Charlie and his big brother.
"Just smash anything that moves, smartass." Elizabeth keeps her gaze on the mirror as Dean bends down and creeps down the aisle towards the front door. All she wants to do is tuck tail and run after him, to hell with the one urban legend that had her terrified as a kid, but a girl will die if she gives into her yellow streak. She swallows hard as a faint creaking starts up around them, like bare feet on hardwood floors.
"Did you hear that?"
"Unfortunately," she mutters. Sam turns to look behind them, but Elizabeth's gaze stays fixed on the mirror; more specifically, the humanoid shape that's just flickered into view. The figure is dark and scrawny, their hair wild on their head and their dress looking worse for wear. "Sammy," Elizabeth gasps, clutching at the sleeve of his jacket tightly. That old fear is coming back, that her uncle will find her keeled over in front of a mirror all because she'd been stupid enough to say the words. And now Mary is there, she's real.
"Duck!" Elizabeth bends quickly, feeling a gust of air as the crowbar glides just inches over her head and collides with the mirror holding Mary's reflection. It isn't the right mirror, it isn't Mary's, and she seems to know what they want because she just changes to another mirror. It's like a game she's playing, how many mirrors can she hop into before Sammy smashes them. "Come on, get in yours."
That's when Elizabeth notices something, the second Mary disappeared for the last time is when her own reflection alters. Where before it had been Elizabeth's face fixed into a horrified expression, now it sports a cold smile and a straight back. "Motherfucker, this bitch is cheating."
"Ghosts tend to do that."
"Oh, shut up." His reflection is doing the same thing now, mirroring Elizabeth's to a tee. She has a split second of warning before a sudden migraine makes her want to throw up, a thin trail of blood sliding down her cheek like a tear might. It's like she has a hundred-pound weight slowly crushing her skull and there isn't a damn thing she can do about it.
"It's your fault," the reflection says in Elizabeth's voice as a twin pressure starts up in her chest. "If you hadn't been born, your mother would still be alive, your sister would still be alive!" Elizabeth shakes her head as more bloody tears slide down her face, tasting like copper when it drips onto her lips.
"No," she manages, gasping for every breath as she sinks down to her knees.
"Yes! You're unnatural, a monster just like I am, and your birth should never have happened!" Her hands are trembling violently as she clutches at her chest, crowbar forgotten on the floor as she tries to keep breathing through the pain. "You have demon blood inside you and you know it, but you refuse to tell anyone because you don't want to die. If you had been normal, your daddy wouldn't have killed your mother. Your niece would still be loved by her parents instead of forgotten in a foster home. You deserve to die and you know—"
A shower of glass rains down, skittering across the floor like millions of diamonds and cutting off what Elizabeth's reflection was saying. The pain cuts off a second later, leaving her taking deep, gulping breaths on the floor and trying not to cut herself on the glass.
"Sammy," Dean says, helping to hold his baby brother up. "Are you alright?"
"It's Sam," the other man corrects breathlessly," and I've been a lot better. Liza, you still alive over there?"
"I'll let you know in the morning," she mutters, forcing herself to sit up. She brushes off Dean's outstretched hand, needing a moment before she trusts her legs to support her. "Help Sam, I'll be fine." Dean doesn't look pleased, but he helps his brother up all the same, waiting for Elizabeth to stand before starting towards the entrance. They barely make it three feet when they hear crunching glass behind them, Elizabeth's shoulders tensing and eyes sliding shut. "Please tell me I'm imagining that."
"Wish I could." With dread curling in her belly, Elizabeth turns with the others to watch as Mary straightens up, her raspy breaths the only sound for a minute. Then the pain is back and even worse than before as Mary makes her way over to them with the jerky movements of ghosts, arms swinging limply at her sides as the three hunters collapse to the ground.
Dean, despite the obvious agony building in his chest and the blood streaming down his cheeks, grabs the closest mirror and holds it up so that it's facing Mary, his jaw clinched tightly as he tries to focus on anything aside from the burning in his lungs. Mary stops dead in her tracks, hair falling off her face to reveal pretty features and black holes instead of eyes.
"You killed them," a woman's voice says, distorted and too deep to be human. "You killed all of those people!" Mary grasps at her chest, the blood dripping steadily from her chin as she begins to melt, hitting the floor as a pile of red-tinted glass. Dean, not hesitating, throws the mirror he'd used onto the pile, the glass shattering and the plain frame cracking.
"Aw man," Dean groans, looking around as they all struggle to sit up. "We're never gonna catch that break now."
"What," Elizabeth asks, looking over at him with furrowed brows.
"Well, look around us, this has gotta be six hundred years of bad luck at the very least. The only thing we have going for us right now is the fact that we haven't walked under any ladders."
"As if that isn't bad enough, I chipped a goddamn nail."
"I still can't believe this is over," Charlie says quietly. Elizabeth glances over at her, setting the book in her lap when she realizes they've parked outside of Charlie's house. It seems like a nice neighborhood, the type of place where all the kids know each other and play games in the street without worrying about anyone dying.
"It's over," Dean assures her, looking at Charlie over the back of his seat.
"Thanks." He reaches out and gives her hand one last squeeze, offering a kind smile that says he'll only be a phone call away if something else happens. Elizabeth leans over and gives her a one-armed hug, glad to have another woman around even if it had just been for six hours. Once they'd told her that Mary was dead for good, Charlie had burst into tears and practically collapsed in Sammy's arms.
"Keep an eye on them," she says, returning Elizabeth's hug. "I'm pretty sure they could do with some supervision."
"Oh, sweetie," Elizabeth laughs, pulling back so Charlie can get out," you have no idea." Charlie has a soft smile on her lips as she opens her door and steps out, stretching before shutting the door and starting up the sidewalk.
"Charlie," Sam calls, making her stop and face the car again. "You really should try to forgive yourself about your boyfriend's death. Sometimes bad things just happen and we can't do anything to stop them." Charlie doesn't say anything, looking torn between self-hatred and thanks as she turns and walks into her house.
"That's some good advice," Dean says once she's out of earshot. "Someone I know needs to hear it."
"Shut up and drive." Elizabeth grins, relaxing with her knees resting against the back of Dean's seat and her book propped up on them. She's barely halfway through it and it's a good excuse not to talk to anyone. She can't stop remembering what Mary had said back in the shop, about Christopher causing Alice's death despite the fact he'd been watching the kids when Alice was mugged.
"Hey, Sam," Dean asks after a few moments of quiet. "Think you can tell me your secret now that there aren't any dead chicks hanging out in the mirror?"
"You're my brother and I would gladly die for you, but we all need our secrets in order to keep going in life."
"What about you, Liza?" She looks up from her book, forcing herself to give Dean a wry smile. If I told him the truth about the blood running through my veins, would he still like me? Would he look at me like he wanted me or would he try to drive a stake through my heart? She can't risk that now that things seem to be coming together, so she falls back on her sarcasm to save the day.
"I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours, Winchester."
I've been traveling but I don't know where/I've been missing you but you just don't care/And I've been wandering, I've seen Greece and Rome/Lost in the wilderness, so far from home