Bloody Mary

I slowly blinked my eyes open as the car started to slow down at a red light.

"Rise and shine." Dean looked away from the road to glance at me.

"Eyes on–" I cleared my rough throat. "Eyes on the road. Don't want to die yet."

"Hey, I'm a great driver, alright?" Dean huffed.

"Sure, sure." I rubbed the sleep from my eyes. "Is Sammy still sleeping?"

"Yeah," Dean's eyes moved from the road to the rearview mirror. His brows furrowed ever so slightly in concern. "He's not sleeping too well, though."

"How many hours did he get?"

Dean checked the odometer. "Couple of hours maybe. Some sleep is better than none."

I looked behind my seat with worry as Sam stirred restlessly in his sleep. His 6'5" body was sprawled across the back row, his knees and head touching each door on either side and his arm thrown over the backseat with the other one hanging down onto the floor.

"We should wake him up." I whispered.

"Sam, wake up." Dean said.

"Sammy," I said a little louder, but he was still shifting about with his eyes closed. "Sammy!" I turned around in my seat and reached over to jerk the younger Winchester's shoulder.

"Sammy, wake up!" Dean said once more. With a jolt, Sam's eyes snapped open.

He grabbed my wrist, almost pulling me to the floor of the Impala.

"Ow…" I hissed as the front seat of the car dug into my stomach.

"I- Sorry. I'm so- so sorry, Sharon." Sam stammered guiltily. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." I gave him a thumbs up and retreated back to sitting down properly.

"Nightmare?" Dean asked. But he already knew the answer to that.

"Hey, at least I got some sleep." Sam gave a small laugh.

"You wanna talk about it?" I asked.

Sam wouldn't meet my eyes. "It was just a nightmare. Nothing important."

"You know, sooner or later we're gonna have to talk about this." He pulled the car in front of a building.

"Are we here?" Sam changed the subject.

"Toledo, Ohio." I pulled out the newspaper clipping that had brought us here. "'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,' blah blah blah." I read.

"So what do you think really happened to this guy?" Sam looked at me and Dean with curious eyes.

The two of us shrugged. "That's what we're gonna find out. Let's go." Dean left the car first.

The boys and I headed inside. I buttoned up my black and white flannel and tugged my black skirt down enough to cover my knees to kind of resemble a formal dress. I threw on my reading glasses as an added touch. Hopefully that distracted people from the button that never stayed put around my chest. The plan was to pretend to be med students, and at least one of us had to look the part.

Dean wasted no time and made a beeline for the Morgue.

"Hey," he confidently greeted the Morgue Technician.

"Can I help you?" The guy was wiry thin and wore glasses.

"Yeah. We're the, uh… med students." Dean smiled.

"Sorry?"

"Oh, Doctor–" Dean's eyes flitted to the name tag on the table.

"Doctor Fake-low-iz." I offered. I prayed it was right. "Sorry, he has kind of a difficult name."

"Yeah," Dean pushed his hands into his pockets. "We talked to him on the phone. He, uh, we're from Ohio State. He's supposed to show us the Shoemaker corpse. It's for our paper."

Ohio State University. I remembered when I was in middle school and living in Ohio, I'd wanted to go there. It was the only real college around the area though, so practically everyone I knew was gunning for it.

The Morgue Technician narrowed his eyes. His personality could be either of two things– trembling and timid, or goody two shoes who would defend the rules to his last breath. Unfortunately he turned out to be the latter.

"Well, I'm sorry, he's at lunch."

"Oh well he said, uh-" Dean gave up on coming up with an excuse."-oh, well, you know, it doesn't matter. You don't mind just showing us the body, do you?" Dude! Did he want us to get kicked out?!

"Sorry, I can't." The tech refused again. "Doc will be back in an hour. You can wait for him if you want."

"An hour? Ooh. We gotta be heading back to Columbus by then." Dean looked to Sam who joined in the conversation.

"Yeah."

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

"Boy, you don't get paid enough to deal with us. Just let us in, or we can stand here and debate for the rest of the day." The tech raised an eyebrow in my direction. I made a show of rolling my eyes and cocking my hip. "Seriously. We have nothing to lose. We can be late for a class. Attendance is like 0% of our grade. But this stupid paper is literally 50%. So you bet we're finding a way in."

"But–"

"Dude. Our professor, AKA the head of the department, already talked to Dr. Fake-low-iz about this. We can't just go back empty handed. You know how much paper work it took to get this arranged? Dr. F will be pissed if we have to do this all over again!"

The tech pursed his lips before opening his mouth.

I cut in. "We'll sweeten the deal and add your name to the research paper. Put it on your resume or something."

That got the tech"Okay, fine. Follow me."

"Good job," Dean murmured.

"Nothing like the fake scent of a promotion." Sam chuckled.

I held back a triumphant grin.

Inside the morgue, the tech pulled out the body we were here to see.

"Now the newspaper said his daughter found him. She said his eyes were bleeding." Dean read from the newspaper clipping.

The tech pulled back the sheet covering Steven Shoemaker's face. "More than that. They practically liquefied."

This case was starting to sound more and more familiar.

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

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

"What's the official cause of death?" Sam leaned in closer to examine the eyes.

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

"What do you mean?"

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

"Since when did that cause this kind of bleeding?" I held back a shudder at the mush that was the inside of his head. "It's like someone exploded a grenade in his head."

"Capillaries can burst. See a lot of bloodshot eyes with stroke victims." the tech shrugged.

"Yeah? You ever see exploding eyeballs?" Dean challenged. Hold on, was this the Bloody Mary case? That's the only one that rang a bell with exploding eyeballs in the first season. Oh hell nah. I hated the Bloody Mary one!

"That's a first for me, but hey, I'm not the Doctor." the tech laughed.

"Hey, think we could take a look at that police report? You know for, uh...our paper." Seriously, Dean?

"I'm not really supposed to show you that." the tech stiffened.

Change of tactics. "Oh come on!" I whined. I pulled off my glasses, making sure to bring down a few tendrils of hair. This guy turned out to be the sexually frustrated type. Worked for our favor, but man it sucked. "I drove two hours to get here. We seriously can't see the police report?"

"No," the tech eyed me. His eyes were definitely on the loose button around my bust. There was no skin exposed underneath, but still he stared. Disgusting, but I could use this to my advantage.

I stepped closer. "Please? Just one sneak peek?"

"Sneak peek…" he swallowed and nodded. His eyes were still on my chest. Creep. "Wait here, I'll go get it." He finally looked away and left.

"Well, that sucked." I unbuttoned my flannel, exposing the skin tight black turtleneck underneath.

"You kind of did play into it." Sam pointed out.

I glared at him. "Doesn't justify him being a creep."

"Yeah, well, don't do it again." Dean wouldn't even look in my direction as he got into the car. Was he mad? Oh, damn, that was kinda cute.

Sam gave me an impressed look and we both got in the car too. "This might not be one of ours. Might just be some freak medical thing." He said.

"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 questioned.

"Uh, almost never."

"Exactly."

"All right, let's go talk to the daughter."

"What's the address?"

I pulled out the news clipping. "There,"

"Feel a little underdressed." Dean muttered under his breath.

"Yeah, it's almost like they're in the middle of a funeral." I started to take off my flannel, leaving me in all black attire… but I felt a little exposed though after my recent run in with the morgue tech… so maybe not. I put the thing back on.

"Sorry, but would you happen to know where Donna Shoemaker is…?" Sam asked someone nearby. The man pointed to a group of four girls dressed in knee length black dresses. "Thank you. Our condolences."

"Thank you." the man gave a nod of his head and moved on.

"You must be Donna, right?" Dean said as he knelt down to her sitting height. Donna nodded.

"Hi, uh– we're really sorry," Sam knelt down too.

"Thank you," Donna nodded, but she looked at the three of us with questioning eyes.

"I'm Sharon, that's Sam, and that's Dean. We used to work with your father." I gave her a small smile.

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

"I don't think she really wants to talk about this right now." one of the other girls held Donna's hand.

"Charlie… It's okay. I'm okay." Donna insisted.

"Were there any symptoms? Dizziness? Migraines?" Dean pressed.

"No," Donna shook her head. "It was all so sudden–"

"That's because it wasn't a stroke," said one of the younger girls.

"What makes you say that?" I sat down on the arm of the chair next to her.

"Lily!" Donna cut in. "I'm sorry, she's just upset."

"Oh, no, absolutely not. It's alright." I looked at Lily. "Can you tell us why you think that?"

"It happened because of me." Lily looked at me dead in the eyes. "Right before he died, I said it."

"Said what, Lily?"

"I said Bloody Mary, three times in the bathroom mirror." she held back tears. "She took his eyes, that's what she does."

"Sweetie, that is not why Dad died. It's not your fault." Donna rubbed the younger girl's back.

"I think your sister's right, Lily." Dean jumped in. "There's no way it could have been Bloody Mary. Your dad didn't say it, did he?"

"Yeah, she only attacks those that say her name." I stood up. "So it's not your fault, alright?"

"I guess." Lily buried her face in her sister's neck and heaved with dry sobs. Poor girl.

Aight. I was officially terrified of mirrors. My heart threatened to leave its cage every time I came across a mirror. I hated Bloody Mary with a passion. Wendigos looked freaking ugly, and Bloody Mary had a crazy bloody M.O. Maybe I was allowed to be scared of two supernatural things. Could I take down a demon or a werewolf instead? Those were simpler.

"The Bloody Mary legend…" Sam wondered out loud, "Dad ever find any evidence that it was a real thing?"

"Not that I know of." Dean answered.

He paused inside the bathroom and leaned over to check the medicine cabinet mirror in the bathroom. Sam knelt down and touched the dried blood on the floor. I chose to not be in the proximity of a mirror. God, this thing was nightmarish.

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

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

"So something is different here." I chimed. But Dean refused to respond. I frowned. What the hell?

Sam also shot a glance at Dean. he then turned to me with a frown. 'What's wrong with him?' he mouthed.

I shrugged. Like hell if I knew.

Sam sighed. "The place where the legend began?"

Dean opened the medicine cabinet. "Don't think so."

"But according to the legend, the person who says B–" Sam paused at the name. "The person who says you-know-what gets it. But here-" Sam stared at his reflection in the medicine cabinet mirror. He slammed it shut.

Dean gave him a 'seriously dude' look. "Shoemaker gets it instead, yeah."

"Right." Sam nodded and joined me in the hallway. He eyed the mirror warily. Well, that made two of us.

"Never heard anything like that before. Still, the guy did die right in front of the mirror, and the daughter's right." Dean in the meantime was nonchalantly going over every nook and cranny in the bathroom. "The way the legend goes, you-know-who scratches your eyes out." His use of 'you-know-who' made me hold back a snicker. So it affected him more than he would have liked to admit.

"It's worth checking into." Sam turned around to leave.

Except we were stopped in place by one of the four girls we'd met downstairs. "What are you doing up here?" Her eyes flitted between the three of us.

I opened my mouth to lie, but Dean jumped in. "We-we, had to go to the bathroom." Dude! That's not even a good one!

"Who are you?" the girl demanded.

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

"He was a day trader or something. He worked by himself." Donna was on guard. I could see her legs tensing as she prepared herself to run. Smart girl.

"No, I know, I meant–"

"Dean, shut up." I grabbed his shoulder to make him stop running his mouth and screwing us over even more. He shrugged it off, but fell silent. Seriously, what the hell?

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

Sam stepped forward with his hands held up in a defenseless manner. "All right, all right. We think something happened to Donna's dad."

"Yeah, a stroke." the girl said slowly.

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

I nodded. "Strokes don't make your eyeballs explode."

"So what could it be?" the girl's legs were starting to relax.

"Honestly? We don't know yet." Sam continued. "But we don't want it to happen to anyone else. That's the truth." Sam looked over his shoulder at Dean to back him up on that.

"So, if you're gonna scream, go right ahead." Dean shrugged.

"Who are you, cops?" the girl looked between the three of us.

Sam looked over his shoulder at me and Dean for an answer. "Something like that." Dean provided.

"I'll tell you what. Here." Sam pulled out a piece of paper and a pen from his pocket. "If you think of anything, you or your friends notice anything strange, out of the ordinary…" He handed his number to the girl who hesitantly took it. "Just give us a call."

"Especially if it has to do with mirrors." I added.

"Yep, especially with mirrors." Sam nodded.

"So we're done here?" Dean raised an eyebrow at the girl who nodded slowly. "Awesome, let's go."

Sam and I followed him out the door.

"All right, say Bloody Mary really is haunting this town." Dean talked. "There's gonna be some sort of proof— Like a local woman who died nasty."

"Yeah but a legend this widespread it's hard. I mean, there's like 50 versions of who she actually is." Sam sighed. "One story says she's a witch, another says she's a mutilated bride, there's a lot more."

"The one I know of, she comes out of the mirror and stabs you. You have to light three candles in front of a mirror, do it with three people in the room, and you have to say her name three times and say 'I stole your baby' at the end. All in a dark room at 3:00AM."

"That's a very interesting variation. An obsession with the number 3." Sam mused. "Is this some local telling?"

"It's the most popular one where I come from."

"So different countries also have different versions of the story."

"All right, so what are we supposed to be looking for?" Dean opened the door to the library. Sam filed in, but before I could walk in too, Dean cut in front of me. Okay, that was enough.

"Dean, what the hell?" I hissed at him.

"Yeah, seriously, Dean what the hell?" Sam stood next to me.

"Are you mad about what happened at the morgue?" I threw my hands up. He wouldn't even look at me. "So you're allowed to flirt with women to get information out of them, but the second I do it, it's an issue?"

"We're working a case. And I'm not mad. I'm sorry I didn't hold the door open for you. Okay? Can we move on now?" Dean started heading for the computer section of the library.

Oh he was definitely mad. "He's acting like a child." I told Sam.

"Yeah. I agree." He sighed at his older brother. "How do you deal with him?"

"Good question." I cleared my throat. "But he's right. We have a case. Let's work it. So what're we looking for?"

"Okay, so, every version's got a few things in common. It's always a woman named Mary, and she always dies right in front of a mirror." Sam and I caught up to Dean who was searching for the computers. "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."

"Well that sounds annoying."

"No it won't be so bad, as long as we–" Sam groaned at the sight of the 'out of order' sign.

"Oh God." I walked to the other side of the section, hoping at least one would be working. But as luck would have it, "All the computers are out of order." I brought my head down on my hands. "I'm a 2020s girlie, how the hell am I supposed to dig through actual books?"

"This will be very annoying." Sam mumbled.

"Then get to work." Dean dropped a pile of books he'd picked up. "Chop, chop."

Back at the motel room, Dean giving me the silent treatment was starting to tire me out.

"Dean, seriously. Are we gonna talk about what this is?"

Dean glanced at Sam who was passed out on the table. "I already said it. I'm not mad."

"If you're not mad then why are you giving me the silent treatment?"

"I'm talking to you now though?"

"That doesn't count Dean." I closed the book he was reading and tossed it to the side. I sat down in front of him on the bed. He inhaled sharply and looked away. "Look at me," I leaned over and grabbed his chin. "Look at me, Dean." His green eyes guiltily met mine. "There we go. Care to tell me what's going on, now?"

His jaw clenched. God, I loved the way it moved. "Nothing."

"Dean,"

"It's nothing, okay? It's stupid!" He sighed and leaned back. "I know I have nothing to worry about– With you being you… and all that."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"That–" Dean ran his hands over his face. "Look. You're an attractive woman, alright? You turn heads wherever you go."

"Lies," I rolled my eyes. "I'm not pretty enough for eyes on me. It's the rare jerk that's never gotten laid before that ends up eying me."

Dean looked almost offended. "I've gotten laid plenty of times before you came along."

"Or the playboy kind who likes a tough challenge."

"Now you're talking." Dean's left lip corner quirked up.

"So what was that all about?"

"Right. So… Like I was saying…" he leaned forward on his knees. "You're gorgeous. And hot. You don't believe it, but men do like women with large thighs like yours." And yet the world's most coveted models and women were stick thin. "You've got good sized tits." a little vulgar choice of words but this was Dean we were talking about, and my cup size only made it harder to shop for clothes that didn't get me dress coded. "And your ass is pretty nice to hold." it was droopy though, like really droopy. "So… I know that men look at you. You know. Makes me proud that men look at you." Dean looked down. "I can't believe I'm saying this. This is embarrassing," he cleared his throat. "My point is. You're hot. And you only get hotter when you open that pretty mouth of yours." right my chapped lips that I chewed on everyday. "Men want you. And not always for the good reasons. But I'm used to it when men fall for you when you're not even trying to seduce them."

"I've never tried to–"

"The case with the vengeful spirit of the kid that got killed by the sheriff." Dean reminded me. I looked down guiltily. "And you failed miserably. It was obvious you were acting. And the guy was a good guy. I saw him. He was polite. But this guy from today, do you have any idea of how dangerous it could have gotten if we weren't there? Huh?" Dean looked almost worried. "He could have jumped you. Done unimaginable things to you."

"I can take care of myself."

"I know, sweetheart. But just the thought of some guy hurting you– I can't." He held out his arms, inviting me to sit on his lap. "C'mere."

"No," I looked away. "You gave me the silent treatment."

"Hey, you give it to me so many times." I felt him sidle up next to me. "And I had a good reason for this, no?" I looked at him out of the corner of my eye. He sighed. "Okay, fine. I'm sorry. I was jealous, okay? But I was worried too. I think I have every right to be mad at you for putting yourself in danger like that."

He was right. I leaned against him. "Fine."

"I'm forgiven?"

"Sure." I turned around and pressed my face into his solid chest. His arms wrapped around me gently. I felt his lips press against the top of my head. They were soft. One of his hands unraveled the ponytail my hair was in and started untangling my hair. I hummed in peace as he tugged out the knots in my hair. "Are you still mad at me?"

"Maybe," he whispered huskily. "Promise not to do that again. And if you do, then make sure Sam or I am near you. Or even dad and Bobby. They'll have a fit, but… I just don't want you hurt, sweetheart."

I looked up into his eyes with my chin pressed against his chest. "Promise."

His lips slowly met mine. I closed my eyes and got up on my knees. Dean held me steady with his hands on my waist and head as he deepened the kiss. "Then I'm not mad anymore." I wrapped my arms around his broad shoulders. God, he was so good. "I love you." he whispered in between kisses. His hands snuck under my shirt. His hands were so warm when they pulled me close.

Dammit Dean. He knew how to take my breath away. I dug my hands into his hair as he pushed my lips open with his. Dean, Dean, oh Dean–

"I don't know what's worse. My nightmares or this." Dean and I jumped when Sam's sleepy voice cut into our makeout session.

"O-oh–" I'd completely forgotten about the younger Winchester in the room. I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks. "Sorry, we thought you were asleep."

"Is that what you two do when I'm sleeping?" Sam looked mortified. And so was I.

Dean was the only one enjoying this. "You never hear us at night? You must be a real deep sleeper then. Sharon's real loud in be–"

I grabbed a pillow and threw it at his head. He gave out a small 'oomph' when it hit him before doubling over with laughter. Bastard. His brother looked more traumatised after looking at us than his nightmares.

"I'm gonna go and pluck my eyeballs out." Sam muttered. "So besides making out, did you guys find anything?"

"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 searched up strange deaths in the area." I nodded towards my closed laptop. "Stuff like eyeball explosions. There's nothing." I couldn't remember a lot of things about this case. I'd been behind my plushie out of fear for most of it. Now I wished I'd seen and observed every detail of the show.

Sam's phone started ringing and he picked it up. Dean and I fell silent as Sam's eyes widened. "We have to go," he told us.

We were standing in front of a park bench where the girl that had called Sam was sobbing and telling us how her friend, Jill, had died.

"And they found her on the bathroom floor. And her-her eyes. They were gone." sobbed the girl. It was the same girl, Charlie, who Sam had given his contact information to.

"I'm sorry," Sam said softly.

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

"No, you're not insane." Dean clarified.

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

"Look. We think something's happening here." Sam jumped in before Charlie could start crying again. "Something that can't be explained."

"And we're gonna stop it" Dean reassured her. "But we could use your help."

And so we ended up in Jill's room. I looked at the girl's belongings. It was just a simple room. Nothing that stood out at all. Except for the body length mirror in the closet that gave me the shivers.

"What did you tell Jill's mom?" Sam had started making small conversation.

"Just that I needed some time alone with Jill's pictures and things." Charlie sniffled. "I hate lying to her."

"Trust us, this is for the greater good. Hit the lights." Dean ordered. He closed the curtains.

Sam handed me the camera and he went to turn off the lights. Why were cameras this big? And heavy? Well, at least it had night vision.

"What are you guys looking for?" Charlie looked around in confusion.

"We'll let you know as soon as we find it." Dean grinned when I aimed the camera at him. "Do I look like Paris Hilton?"

"Nope." I turned away from him and followed Sam as he opened the closet door and examined the mirror in it.

"So I don't get it. I mean…" Sam pointed to the areas he wanted filmed. I followed his guide. "The first victim didn't summon Mary, and the second victim did. How's she choosing them?"

"Beats me." Dean shrugged. "I want to know why Jill said it in the first place."

Sam and I moved away from the closet mirror and went onto the bathroom mirror. Oh god. I hated this.

"It's just a joke." Charlie laughed bitterly. Oh honey, you have no idea.

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

"Sam." I grabbed Sam's sleeve. "There's something coming out of the mirror."

He immediately straightened up. "What is it? Is it her?"

"No, it's like a-a black fluid of some kind. It's just… trickling out. I don't think it'll hurt us though."

"There's a black light in the trunk, right?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, I'll go get that. And you get Dean in here."

"Okay."

Sam left to go get the black light and I motioned Dean and Charlie into the bathroom.

"Black liquid?" Dean asked.

"It looked black in the camera." I handed it to him.

His mouth formed an O. "Let's take this thing down."

Dean and I worked to get the mirror out of the bathroom and carried it into Jill's bedroom. We dropped it upside down on her soft bed. Dean carefully peeled back the brown paper on the back of the mirror.

"I got it." Sam handed me the black light.

I fumbled with the switch before managing to turn it on. I aimed it at the back of the mirror. Everyone crowded around to see what was on it. "Gary Bryman." I read. It had a handprint next to it, almost like a signature. "Any idea who that is?"

Charlie shook her head. "No idea."

After a night of research, and three cups of coffee, we were on the park bench again, handing Charlie information we'd found.

"So, Gary Bryman was an 8-year-old boy. Two years ago he was killed in a hit and run." Sam read. "The car was described as a black Toyota Camry. But nobody got the plates or saw the driver."

"Oh my God." Charlie's jaw dropped open. "Jill drove that car."

God. She had killed a kid?

Dean gripped his keys. "We need to get back to your friend Donna's house."

I shone the blacklight on the back of the bathroom mirror in Donna's house. "Linda Shoemaker. No way."

"Why are you asking me this?" Donna looked around at the four of us.

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

"Yeah. Linda's my mom okay? She overdosed on sleeping pills, it was an accident, and that's it. I think you should leave." She was definitely hiding something.

"Alright, let's go." I grabbed the boys and motioned towards Charlie to leave the house.

"Oh my God. Do you really think her dad could've killed her mom?" Charlie gasped.

"Maybe." Sam kept walking.

"Maybe I should stick around."

"All right." Dean agreed. "But whatever you do, don't–"

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

"Wait, wait, wait, you're doing a nationwide search?" Sam sat down on Dean's other side.

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

"But if she's haunting the town, she should have died in the town."

"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."

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

"Both had secrets where people died."

"And there's a lot of lore that say that mirrors reveal all of one's lies, secrets. Like they're a window to your soul. And that's why it's bad luck to break them. At least in western media. In my country you cover the mirror at night so the ghost doesn't even get in, and if the mirror does have a ghost, you smash it and burn it. Or so my mom told me."

"Huh." Sam nodded in acknowledgement. "That's an interesting take on it."

"I could say the same for y'all's."

"Right, right. So basically 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 reiterated.

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

"Alright. Take a look at this." Dean leaned back slightly so Sam and I could lean in to see what he'd pulled up.

It was a woman with her eyes cut out in front of a mirror. There was a handprint and the words TRE next to it.

"It looks the same as the handprints we found on the victims in our case." I noted.

"Uh-huh." Dean nodded. "Her name was Mary Worthington– an unsolved murder in Fort Wayne, Indiana."

"And no one tried to search for a guy whose name starts with the letters TRE?" I shook my head. "Corrupt police officers and whatnot." I turned the laptop towards me and started typing.

"We can look him up on the FBI database…" Dean's voice trailed off when I turned the screen back to him and Sam.

"The above ground internet databases have everything. Especially internet sleuth forums." I smirked as the boys blinked at the loads of information on that one webpage. "Trevor Sampson. Only guy in that era, in the area, that started by TRE."

"And it was Sampson who killed her?" Sam asked.

"Mhm." I hummed. "He was a surgeon and the way her eyes were cut out. It looks like a professional's."

"And, uh, what's the motive?" Dean raised an eyebrow.

"She was having an affair with the dude. He had a wife." I scrolled a little further down on the forum. "Here's Mary's diary." Some mad lad had posted all the pages from it. I showed them pictures. "She was having an affair with 'T'."

"And you can trust these guys on the web?" Dean scoffed.

I shrugged. "Well, they don't have a reason to lie now do they?"

"Fair point." Sam accepted. "Is there information on where she's buried?"

"She was cremated. The forum's kinda mad cause they can't analyse her wounds."

"Wow." Sam laughed in amusement. "I don't believe it."

"What about that mirror? Your internet do that too?" Dean challenged.

"Oh yeah." I opened up her obituary where her possessions were also listed. "If we track down the purchases…" With a few more searches that took too long thanks to ancient internet, I had it. "The family held onto it for years, until they sold it last week. It's in this city. Ended up in some store called Estate Antiques."

"Wow." Dean looked impressed at the information. "So wherever the mirror goes, that's where Mary goes?"

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

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

"Yeah but how could she move through like a hundred different mirrors?"

Yeah, well, the woman crawled out of the mirror at some point. I shuddered. I hated mirrors.

"I don't know, but if the mirror is the source, I say we find it and smash it." Dean got up.

That's when Sam's phone rang. He picked it up. "Hello… Charlie?"

Sam, Dean, and I worked quickly. Pulling curtains close, taking out lightbulbs, turning down mirrors that could be moved, and covering up those that couldn't be.

Sam sat down on the bed next to where Charlie was curled up into a ball. "Hey, hey it's ok. Hey, you can open up your eyes Charlie. It's okay, all right?"

Charlie looked up shakily. Her eyes darted from side to side in fear.

"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 explained.

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

"No. No. Not anytime soon." Sam tried to reassure her. Charlie continued rocking back and forth.

Dean, in the meantime, was all business, the opposite of his brother. He sat down on Charlie's other side and started asking. "All right Charlie. We need to know what happened."

"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?"

Charlie breathed shakily. "Okay," she opened her mouth. "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.'" Bastard. "And you know what I said? I said, 'Go ahead.'" Good girl. "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 head back down and started crying again.

"I think you did the right thing." I told Charlie. "If a guy threatens you with that, and then actually follows through with it, then the guy wasn't worth it."

"But- but that meant that he truly loved me! If I hadn't told him to go ahead then he wouldn't have died…"

"Well, let me tell you right now. He was a bastard. An insecure, obsessed, deranged idiot. Staying with him would have only led to more hardship and heartbreak."

"But the ghost–"

"Ghosts are dumb. They believe what they want to believe. They're no longer human. To them it's black or white. They don't see any shade of gray" I looked her in the eye. "Besides, we're here now. We got you."

Her lip trembled as she nodded and ducked under her blanket. "Please let me know when it's all over." she pleaded.

"Of course."

"So how do we kill this thing?" Dean asked as we got into the car. Next stop, Estate Antiques. "Smash the mirror and burn the pieces? Like Sharon said?"

"You know, I've been thinking. It might not be enough to just smash that mirror." Dean and I looked to Sam. "Mary's hard to pin down, right? I mean she moves around from mirror to mirror." Sam pointed out. "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."

"Well how do you know that's going to work?" Dean raised an eyebrow.

"I don't. Not for sure." Sam's brows furrowed.

"Well, who's gonna summon her?"

Sam had nothing to say. Oh, right. In the original Sam had been able to summon her because of his guilt with Jessica. But now that she was alive… he didn't have that…

"I can do it." I leaned onto the front seat.

"Why would she come after you?" Dean scoffed. "You're a goody two shoes with not even a dead fly, ignoring the monsters that deserved to die, to your name."

"Roy." I looked at Dean's green eyes through the rearview.

Dean pulled the car over. "You can't be serious." He turned around to glare at me. "We just talked about this. You need to stop being reckless."

"I'm not being reckless!" I glared back. "I feel guilty enough about Roy that this can happen, okay? And I can smash mirrors, no problemo!"

"But it's dangerous!"

"You should have thought about that before you invited me on this trip!"

"Then just take a swing at me, it's all my fault, isn't it?"

I opened my mouth to protest, but Sam jumped in to defuse the situation. "Dean, she's the best chance we have at this. And Sharon, this isn't your fault. Okay? Roy was not your fault." No, it was. I could have made more of a fuss when I'd held him back, and used a little more strength. Not to mention what made me truly guilty. A part of me had wanted to let him go. Let him go so that we could find out where the creature's lair was. I was evil, as far as I knew it. Just like that sheriff.

"You don't know the truth." I sagged back down in my seat.

"Neither of us blame you for that." Sam said softly.

"You should." I shook my head. "You don't know the truth."

"What are you talking about?" Dean sounded genuinely concerned.

"I need to keep this a secret till we get Mary." And after we got Mary. I wasn't going to tell them the truth. Ever. I didn't want them to see me as evil.

"No. I don't like it. It's not gonna happen, forget it." Dean started the car again and prepared for a U turn.

I grabbed Dean's shoulder before he could turn the wheel completely. "Dean, let me save her, please. That girl is innocent. So many others could die because of this."

Dean's eyes flitted to the ring on my finger. He set his jaw, but pulled back onto the road in the direction of the store. "I don't like this."

"Thank you." I let go of his shoulder and leaned back. Mary, dear Mary. Please don't kill me. But she sure would take her best shot.

"Great. My life is great." I threw my hands in defeat at the number of mirrors in the store. "How do we find her mirror?"

Dean pulled out her picture and showed it to me. I pulled out my iPhone and took a picture. "That should do."

"They need to start releasing those things faster." Dean stared at the small thing in my hand.

"They do." I grinned. "I can't wait for the actual internet. Wait, we're getting off track." I cleared my throat. "We should start looking."

"Alright." Dean held my wrist. "Be careful."

I nodded. "I know." I looked around the giant store.

"You and Sam take the left." Dean commanded. "I'll take the right."

The two of us nodded and headed in the direction we'd been told to go. I held the picture of Mary up and compared the mirrors in the store to the one in the picture.

"What about that one?" Sam whispered.

"Too oval." I checked the picture again. "Hers is a little more circular."

"Maybe it's already been sold." Sam wondered.

"I doubt it."

"Over here!" We heard Dean call.

The two of us made our way to him and stared at the mirror. "Seriously?" I shivered when I saw myself in the reflection. Same old me. With acne scars and puffy cheeks and bags under her eyes. "My face looks like an egg."

"It's a cute egg." Dean poked my cheek

Sam reached over to tug my other cheek. "It's stretchy too."

"Alright. Stop it." I swatted their hands away. But thanks to them, I felt a little better about this.

Dean passed me a crowbar. "You see something, you swing." He reminded me. I nodded. Sam and Dean picked up two other things that looked like they could smash mirrors and gave me a nod.

It was go time. "Bloody Mary. Bloody Mary." I took a deep breath. "Bloody Mary."

Something on the mirror on my left. I swung and the glass shattered.

Something on the right. Swing.

Left, swing.

Upper right, swing.

Before long, I was heaving from the way she jumped from mirror to mirror. I was starting to get tired. My heart was threatening to beat out of my chest and breathing was starting to become more difficult.

"Smash the rest." I told the boys.

"What?" The brothers looked at me dumbly. Idiots!

"Smash the other mirrors. Why didn't we do this before?!" I groaned. "Then I would have only one mirror to break! Oh, but hand me a small one."

"What for?" Sam asked.

Upper left. Swing.

"Just do it!" I stomped my foot and that got them moving.

"You did it!" Mary screamed from a mirror in front of me. It was her mirror. My eyes felt like they were melting. "You killed that man! You could have held him back!" Shit. I squeezed my eyes shut. It hurt. And someone was screaming. That someone was me. Something in front of me shattered. Dean or Sam must have gotten to breaking it. Was it over? Judging from the liquid rolling down my face and the mind numbing pain in my eyes, I guessed not. I forced my eyes open when Mary's shrieking didn't stop either.

"Bitch crawled out of the fucking mirror!" I scrambled backwards as the pale emaciated woman with a crow's nest for hair crawled in my direction.

"Show her her reflection!" I heard Sam yell.

Oh yeah.

Mirror. I needed to show her herself. Mirror. Any mirror would do. Just something to get that woman to look at herself and not me. All of a sudden, a mirror appeared in front of me. It was floating. What the fuck.

Your powers, child.

Not again. It was the damn angel.

I don't appreciate being cursed at. I came here to check on how you were doing. You seem to be fine.

Was this guy blind? My eyes were bleeding.

I am not blind. You'll live. See you later.

And just like that, the Angel was gone. And with one final screech, so was Mary, in a pool of blood. The mirror that I'd been holding up also fell and broke into a million pieces. I was alive.

I stumbled as my legs buckled under me. Dean rushed to hold me steady. "You okay?" He was wiping the blood away from my face.

"I never want an itch in my eyeballs." I joked. I felt dizzy. If Dean hadn't been holding up I would be on the floor taking a nap. "I'll be fine." The Angel said so.

"That was amazing." Sam stared at the broken mirrors on the floor. "That's one handy superpower."

"I can't exactly control it." I gripped Dean's arms as I tried to get the dizziness out of my head. Dean's amulet, the Samulet, seemed like a good thing to focus on. "Gimme a minute."

It took a couple of minutes, but I finally felt steady enough to move on my own. "Let's go."

"Is this really over?" Charlie peered at us from under her blanket.

"Here," I pulled down the cover from the mirror right in front of her. She yelped in fear, but nothing happened.

"Oh," her shoulders relaxed and she collapsed onto the bed. "It's over. It's really over." she cried in relief. "Thank you."

"Yeah, no problem." Dean smiled, and the three of us left the joyously sobbing girl alone.

When we piled into the car, Dean turned around to fix me with his stare. "Now that this is all over, I want you to tell me what that secret is. And not just Sharon. You too, Sammy."

"No." I crossed my arms and looked out the window. Like hell I was telling him. "I can't tell you, Dean."

"Can't? Or won't?"

I could feel his gaze drilling holes into my skin. "I'm not ready to talk about it, Dean."

"Just say it!"

"Whatever it is, we won't think any worse of you." Sammy gave me his puppy dog eyes. Dammit. "Sharon, seriously. Dean and I both. We both love you. So, just tell us what's wrong."

"I'm just a horrible person, alright?" I slipped my boots off and curled up on the seat. "Roy– I kind of let him go that day."

"What do you mean?"

I bit down on my lip to make it stop shaking. "I could have stopped him. I knew he was going to die." How was I even talking about this? Was I allowed to talk about past events? "I knew he was going to run off and the Wendigo would get him. But there was no other way of actually finding where the Wendigo was keeping the others if we all just stayed inside the circle."

"It wasn't your fault." Dean started pulling out of the driveway. "Dude was twice your size–"

"I can hunt down vampires."

"Doesn't matter. He was determined to get to the Wendigo. And he did. And his decisions cost him. That's all this is."

"But I could have–"

"We can't save everyone." Dean almost yelled. "You just have to accept that. Even if we do our best, not everyone can be saved. You got that?"

I nodded. I did, but not really. Was it truly not my fault? Maybe I wanted to feel guilty. Maybe I wanted to be depressed. Was that a thing? My head hurt. Too much thinking.

"Your turn, Sammy." Dean turned to Sam next. "What is it with you and your nightmares, huh? They've been getting worse, I know."

"No, Dean."

"Come on. Sharon already shared her feelings. Now it's your turn."

Dean let out a frustrated sigh when he didn't respond. "Come on Sammy. We're not here to judge you."

"Look...you're my brother and I'd die for you, but there are some things I need to keep to myself." Sam too moved into a defensive posture and turned away from the driver of the car who slammed his hand on the dashboard in a fit. But neither me nor Sam, neither of us was ready to talk.