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winchesters-imagine · 8 years ago

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Supernatural S1 Ep 5 - Bloody Mary

Phantom Traveler|Skin 1|2|3

A/N: As you may know, I’m now going to be posting the whole episode in one post; although I’ll still separate it into three parts including gifs x

Word Count: 10.9k Warnings: none.

tags: @sojustturnyourface @skeletoresinthebasement@msdooos@edward-lover18@castielgirl21 @typicalweirdbookworm @the-lightning-bolt-8

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Part 1:

Your head snaps up from your book when you hear Sam in the passenger seat, squirming and fidgeting. Dean parks the car and turns to look at you, eyes full of worry and fear.

You slam your book shut and lurch forwards as you and Dean both put a hand on his left shoulder.

“Sam, wake up!” You say in unison. Sam’s eyes shoot open and he sits up quickly, expression confused. He looks around quickly, registering his surroundings before letting out a big sigh.

“I take it I was having a nightmare,” Sam states.

“Yeah, another one,” Dean confirms. You lean forwards, putting your elbows on your knees and resting your head in your hands.

“Are we here?” Sam asks, looking behind at you. “Yup. Welcome to Toledo, Ohio,” You smile, handing him a newspaper with an obituary that has a red ring around it, that you had circled earlier.

“So what do you think really happened to this guy?” Sam asks. “That's what we're gonna find out,” You say, feeling your jaw move up and down with every syllable.

“Let's go,” Dean commands, putting a clipboard into the seat next to you and opening the door before climbing out of the Impala.

You leave your book in your seat and climb out of the car with Sam, heading to the large building in front of you, with a steep, white staircase at the front complete with white pillars.

You walk through the hospital, the three pairs of shoes in your group hitting the floor in an unplanned rhythm that seemed to get better the further you walked through the dimly lit hallways.

You reach the end of one and see a room labelled 144, marked Morgue.

Dean pushes in front of you and Sam gently, walking through the door first. You look around and see that the room reminds you of a library, with files and folders stacked on shelves and crammed into bookcases.

You walk past two desks, one is empty, with a nameplate that says Dr. D. Feiklowicz. Dean pulls a face as you move on. The other desk has a man sitting behind it, who you assume is a Morgue Technician.

He’s bald, and looks tough, although his accent doesn’t suggest any violent nature.

“Hey,” He greets. “Hey,” Dean replies, smiling.

“Can I help you?”

Sam is about to say something before Dean stops him by speaking.

“Yeah. We're the, uh...med students,” Dean lies. “Sorry?” The man asks.

“Oh, Doctor—” Dean pauses, the realisation hitting him.

Why did he have to reference the Doctor with the seventy letter name?

“—Figlavitch didn't tell you?” Dean stumbles a little before continuing confidently.

“We talked to him on the phone. He, uh, we're from Ohio State,” You chime in before Dean begins to dig a hole for himself.

“He's supposed to show us the Shoemaker corpse. It's for our paper,” You state.

“Well, I'm sorry, he's at lunch,” The man apologises to you.

“Oh well he said, uh—” Dean starts. You control the eye roll that was wanting to happen as he attempts to save the conversation.

“—oh, well, you know, it doesn't matter. You don't mind just showing us the body, do you?” He asks.

“Sorry, I can't,” The man insists.

“Doc will be back in an hour. You can wait for him if you want,” He offers. “An hour? Ooh. We gotta be heading back to Columbus by then,” You say, looking at your brothers to back you up.

“Yeah,” Sam agrees quietly. Dean nods as he continues.

“Uh, look, man, this paper's like half our grade, so if you don't mind helping us out—” “Uh, look, man...no,” The man interrupts Dean, making him laugh a little, sarcastically.

Dean turns around, in the middle of you and Sam before mumbling through gritted teeth.

“I'm gonna hit him in his face I swear.”

You hit Dean’s arm twice as he continues to turn away from the mess he’s created. Sam steps in front of you and your older brother, pulling out and opening his wallet, grabbing at least five $20 bills and laying them on the table.

Dean turns around and watches, pressing his lips into a thin line.

The man picks up the money.

“Follow me,” He says, standing up and leaving. You and Sam attempt to follow when Dean grabs Sam’s arm.

“Dude, I earned that money,” Dean argues. “You won it in a poker game,” You defend Sam. “Yeah,” He says, insinuating that is the point, as Sam turns to follow the man with you close behind.

The man shows you all Steven when you get to the morgue, pulling the sheet down his face to reveal a man with his eyes gone - there wasn’t anything there - just holes in his head

“Now the newspaper said his daughter found him. She said his eyes were bleeding,” Sam starts.

“More than that. They practically liquefied,” The man says, pulling the sheet back further.

“Any sign of a struggle? Maybe somebody did it to him?” You ask. “Nope. Besides the daughter, he was all alone.”

“What's the official cause of death?” Sam asks.

“Ah, Doc's not sure. He's thinking massive stroke, maybe an aneurysm? Something burst up in there, that's for sure,” The man replies.

“What do you mean?” Sam asks.

“Intense cerebral bleeding. This guy had more blood in his skull than anyone I've ever seen,” The man states. Dean nods, taking in all the information, as he looks back at Steven, with blood dripping down the sides of his face from the small pools of blood in his eye sockets.

“The eyes; what would cause something like that?” You ask, slightly taken aback.

“Capillaries can burst. See a lot of bloodshot eyes with stroke victims,” was the reply.

“Yeah? You ever see exploding eyeballs?” Dean asks sarcastically.

“That's a first for me, but hey, I'm not the doctor,” The man responds. “Hey, think we could take a look at that police report? You know for, uh...our paper,” Dean asks hopefully.

“I'm not really supposed to show you that,” The man says. Sam, obviously annoyed, pulls out his wallet again, producing more notes and giving them to the man.

The police report didn’t have anything of much interest, so you and your brothers started making your way out.

“Might not be one of ours. Might just be some freak medical thing,” Sam suggests as you all walk down the steps together, feet falling in another rhythm, which reminds you of an old song that Dean and your Dad used to sing. The windows let in a lot of light, making the staircases seem cleaner than you assume they actually are.

“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?” You ask sarcastically, turning the corner to walk down yet another flight of stairs.

“Uh, almost never,” Sam responds.

“Exactly,” You prove your point.

“All right, let's go talk to the daughter,” Sam shrugs, as you all leave the hospital after making it down the last flight of stairs. You push the heavy doors open, the fresh air hitting you hard, causing you to take a deep breath in.

You kick the gravel slightly as you all make your way to the Impala, the small stones crashing into each other, all landing at once. You look up and notice Sam walking slower, behind Dean yet in front of you.

You speed up and loop your arm around his, snapping him gently out of his thoughts.

“You don’t want to tell him, do you bud?” You ask, referring to his nightmares and Dean’s approaching speech.

“I don’t know, sweet.”

Sometimes that’s what Sam called you. You secretly liked it a lot, as it was something only you and Sam share. It really depends on the situation or his mood - if he was feeling ‘fine’, or he was thinking, he would usually say it. He would also say it if he was being protective, or was just in a really good mood. He would have a grin on his face, which reminds you much of a moose.

“It’s just a feeling - where you want people to know but at the same time... you just want to keep it to yourself,” Sam explains. You nod.

“I know exactly what you mean,” You say. It’s true.

After you and your dad fought, you left to the nearest motel you could, and found a case. It was a simple salt and burn.

Or so you thought.

You mistook a Tulpa - something you hadn’t come across before - for a vengeful spirit.

You could’ve kicked yourself.

When you finished digging up the grave, you jumped out and peered over the edge of the hole. The Tulpa attacked you from behind, causing you to fall into the grave before pushing the mounds of dirt along the edges onto you, the dry dirt coating your lungs with a sandpaper feeling. The weight on your chest made it hard to breathe and you used all your energy trying to push it all off.

What you didn’t realise, was that one of the teenagers who was responsible for actually creating the Tulpa was standing by, watching.

The Tulpa saw them, and thinking they were with you, pulled a knife from inside their jacket and threw it at them - it went straight through their heart.

After you were able to climb out of the mounds of dirt that were thrown on top of you, the guilt of you being able to save that kid’s life, yet you didn’t, consumed you for the rest of the case.

You never told Dean, or Sam - you just wanted to keep it to yourself for as long as you possibly can, and just forget what happened.

Oldest rule of hunting, Y/N.

You can’t save everybody.

“If Dean does ask, he’s only worried about you,” You say as you approach the Impala, watching Dean slide into the drivers seat.

“Yeah, of course,” Sam replies, seemingly zoned out as he pats your shoulder before sliding into the passenger seat.

You shoot a confused look to the back of his head and climb into the Impala.

The drive to the Shoemaker house had a very awkward silence, resulting in you pulling out your book and beginning to read again.

When Dean pulls the car over, you look up to see that the door is wide open. As you all climb out of the Impala and walk into the house, you realise that it’s Steven’s funeral.

“Feel like we’re underdressed,” You comment as you look around at all the people attending. The men are in black suits and the women are all in black dresses. Except you and your brothers.

You also spot a picture of Steven on a desk, surrounded by flowers and cards. The scent makes your nose tingle, and for a brief moment, you’re worried that you might sneeze.

You continue walking through the house towards the back, weaving through the crowds of people. Dean asks someone to direct you towards Steven’s daughters, and they do so.

You see that they’re with their friends, and one of them looks up from inspecting her nails.

You and your brothers walk past her to a girl with short black hair, which was reaching just to the middle of her neck and curling upwards at the ends.

“You must be Donna, right?” Dean asks her. “Yeah,” She confirms, looking up at you. “Hi, uh—we're really sorry,” You apologise.

“Thank you.”

“I'm Sam, this is Dean and Y/N. We worked with your dad,” Sam starts. Donna looks at her friend, who is standing next to her. She has blonde hair, and her fringe is tied at the top of her head, in a half up half down style. Donna looks back at you.

“You did?” She smiles a small bit before it drops.

“Yeah. This whole thing. I mean, a stroke,” Dean continues.

“I don't think she really wants to talk about this right now,” Her friend comments. “It's okay. I'm okay,” Donna reassures her with a slight nod.

“Were there any symptoms? Dizziness? Migraines?” Dean asks. “No.”

A little girl then turns around, couldn’t be more than 12. She has brown hair which has small locks of it tied around the crown of her head.

“That's because it wasn't a stroke,” She states.

“Lily, don't say that,” Donna scolds. “What?” You ask.

“I'm sorry, she's just upset,” Donna apologises. “No, it happened because of me,” Lily argues.

“Sweetie, it didn't,” Donna tries to reassure softly. You frown a little.

“Lily,” You start, crouching down to get on eye level with her. “Why would you say something like that?” You ask gently.

“Right before he died, I said it.” “You said what?”

“Bloody Mary, three times in the bathroom mirror,” She informs you.

The conversation pauses, and you can’t think of any way to respond. “She took his eyes, that's what she does,” Lily continues.

“That's not why Dad died. This isn't your fault,” Donna insists.

“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 chimes in.

“No, I don't think so,” Lily admits.

You stand up after Dean proves his point, wearing a mix between a pout and a smirk on his face, and Sam thanks them for their time.

You start walking to the house again, lost in thought. The Bloody Mary myth. It can’t be real, surely. It’s just a legend. Right?

Unless a whole load of people believed in her. But there’s no symbol painted anywhere, so it can’t be.

Part 2:

You realise that you’re all walking up the stairs to the upstairs hallway, and decide to snap out of your thoughts. Thankfully, none of your brothers notice.

You all walk stealthily down the hallway, before rounding a corner and spotting a white door which stands slightly ajar. The doorknob is a crystal and Sam pushes the door the rest of the way open.

You stand in the doorway and look around the bathroom, eyes landing on two splodges which trail across the floor of dried blood.

“The Bloody Mary legend...Dad ever find any evidence that it was a real thing?” Sam asks as you continues looking around. The blinds are shut and it looks like people haven’t been in it for a while.

“Not that I know of,” Dean replies, walking into the bathroom and flipping on the lights.

You follow him and start looking around as Sam stoops to the floor, running his fingers over 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,” He says.

“Yeah, well, maybe everywhere it's just a story, but here it's actually happening,” You suggest.

“The place where the legend began?” Sam asks. Dean shrugs, pushing up his bottom lip, and opening the medicine cabinet.

“But according to the legend, the person who says B—” You shoot Sam a look mid-sentence as he realises that the mirror is right in front of him after Dean opened it. He closes it before continuing.

“The person who says you know what gets it. But here—” “Shoemaker gets it instead, yeah,” Dean interrupts. “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,” You explain.

“It's worth checking in to,” Sam says. You then hear heels walking slowly along the corridor. You all share a look with each other before you all turn and leave the bathroom, acting natural, before bumping into Donna’s friend from earlier.

“What are you doing up here?” She asks pointedly.

“We—we, had to go to the bathroom,” Dean tries to lie but stumbles over his words.

“Who are you?” She presses. “Like we said downstairs, we worked with Donna's dad,” You say. “He was a day trader or something. He worked by himself.”

Crap.

“No, I know, I meant—” You’re interrupted.

“And all those weird questions downstairs, what was that? So you tell me what's going on, or I start screaming,” She threatens. Sam steps in faster than you could say Mississippi.

“All right, all right. We think something happened to Donna's dad,” Sam says quickly.

“Yeah, a stroke,” She says it like you don’t know any better.

“That's not a sign of a typical stroke. We think it might be something else,” You state.

“Like what?”

“Honestly? We don't know yet. But we don't want it to happen to anyone else. That's the truth,” You conclude.

“So, if you're gonna scream, go right ahead,” Dean adds.

“Who are you, cops?”

Sam looks over his shoulder at you and Dean.

“Something like that,” Dean shrugs.

“I'll tell you what. Here,” Sam starts, reaching into his pocket, pulling out a scrap piece of paper and a pen.

“If you think of anything, you or your friends notice anything strange, out of the ordinary...just give us a call,” He says, writing down his phone number, using his hand to lean on.

He hands the paper to her as you start walking down the hallway with Dean.

You arrive at the local library, and look around as you enter the lobby. It’s rather dark for the time of day, with only the glass doors letting in natural light.

The books are neatly shelved, with the book stands near the door holding up signs which are encouraging people to read.

There aren’t many people around, and you turn your attention back to Dean, who is speaking.

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

“Yeah but a legend this widespread it's hard. I mean, there's like 50 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,” You explain, as you all walk into the actual library, which has computers in a line along a desk, on both sides.

The shelves are much bigger, with labels on each section.

“All right so what are we supposed to be looking for?” Dean asks, looking over at you.

“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,” You start. You all stop walking.

“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.” Sam finishes. You nod at him in agreement. “Exactly.”

“Well that sounds annoying,” Dean comments.

“No, it won't be so bad, as long as we...” You tap Sam’s arm, catching his attention. You point over at the computers, which all have an ‘Out of Order’ sign on them. Sam chuckles.

“I take it back. This will be very annoying.”

You all sit around a table, and find boxes of records and taking them back to the motel. After sitting around the small table in your room, you take the lid off of the box.

You take the first ten years, Dean takes the next and Sam pulls out the next ten.

You keep rotating, every ten years someone finishes, they pick up the next ten. It starts getting tedious, the rustling of papers and the constant turning to the box to pick up more records starts making you feel slightly nauseous.

Sam eventually falls asleep on a bed, and you and Dean decide to leave him. You lean forwards, putting your elbows on the table and rubbing your eyes, which droop shut every now and then.

“You alright?” Dean asks, looking up from the record he’s reading, pausing as he’s flipping a page.

“Yeah. I need coffee,” You joke and look up. Dean snorts.

“We’re almost there Y/N. Stay awake — we’re already a man down,” He says, motioning to Sam’s sleeping form.

You nod and sigh, leaning back into your chair. You’re glad that it’s curved, a small armchair, as it provides comfort as you take another record off of the table and pull your legs up, so that you’re curled up in the chair.

Dean puts his foot on the table leg, allowing it to be raised up. He rests his head on his hand, and leans his elbow on the arm of his chair. His other hand falls over the side of the chair.

After a while, Sam begins to stir, before opening his eyes and waking up suddenly, gasping for breath.

You and Dean both look up, as Sam regains his breath and stays in the same position, staring at the ceiling.

“Why'd you let me fall asleep?” Sam asks in a low voice, still recovering.

“’Cause we’re awesome siblings,” Dean replies, his attention drifting back to the book. “So what did you dream about?” He asks, sitting up straighter.

“Lollipops and candy canes,” Sam replies sarcastically. Dean smirks and nods a little and you sigh, shaking your head, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips.

“Yeah, sure,” You agree with equal sarcasm.

“Did you find anything?” Sam asks you.

“Oh, besides a whole new level of frustration? No,” You say, sighing with clear annoyance etched onto your face.

“We've looked at everything,” Dean stresses as Sam rolls onto his side and props himself up on his arm. You and Dean both shut the books you’re reading and turn to Sam.

“A few local women, a Laura and a Catherine committed suicide in front of a mirror,” Dean says.

“And a giant mirror fell on a guy named Dave, but uh, no Mary,” You add, as Sam falls back onto the bed.

“Maybe we just haven't found it yet,” Sam proposes.

“We'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,” Dean explains.

Sam’s phone starts to ring not a moment later, and you let your legs fall off of the chair as you watch Sam.

“Hello?”

You see Sam’s eyebrows furrow in confusion, and an expression of concern flashes over his face. You and Dean can’t hear who’s calling, and as Sam puts down the phone, you and Dean stand up, both putting the books your holding onto the table.

“What is it?” You ask, as Sam begins to open the door, making his way to the Impala. “That girl who almost busted us earlier? Her name is Charlie, and there’s been another murder,” Sam explains as you and Dean follow him, opening your doors and sliding into the Impala.

You all arrive at a nearby park, Sam giving Dean directions as to where Charlie will be. You all see her on a bench, and you sit next to her.

Dean sits on the back on the bench, his feet on the actual seat. Sam stands with his hands in his pockets as you all listen to her story. You hold both of her hands with one of yours gently as she starts to cry.

“And they found her on the bathroom floor. And her—her eyes. They were gone,” She sobs.

“I'm sorry,” Sam sympathises.

“And she said it.”

You and Dean both look up at Sam, and then each other, before turning your attention back to Charlie. She has blonde hair, which was let down and past her shoulders.

“I heard her say it. But it couldn't be because of that. I'm insane, right?” She asks, looking at you.

“No, you're not insane,” You comfort.

“Oh God, that makes me feel so much worse,” You feel like someone just punched you in the gut, and you sigh.

“Look. We think something's happening here. Something that can't be explained,” Sam tells her.

“And we're gonna stop it but we could use your help,” Dean adds. She nods, before leading you all to Jill’s house so that you could see where she died.

You and your brothers are told to climb underneath Jill’s window by Charlie, and she’ll let you in.

It looks easy enough - the small roof jutting out underneath her window looks helpful.

After Charlie leaves, Dean grabs the duffel bag and throws it over his shoulder as Sam gives you a small boost to grab the edge. You push up, arms tensing as you slide onto the roof. The hard, cold tiles dig into your hands as you support yourself, twisting your body to sit on the roof before crawling back a little.

You then lean down to grab Dean’s soft, yet war, hand as Sam boosts him, too. He pushes himself up with a grunt and one hand, before joining you. He smirks.

“What are you laughing at?” You ask. “Nothing - you’re just stronger than you look,” He jokes. You roll your eyes.

“Day’s not getting any longer down here!” Sam calls. You hit Dean’s arm lightly before leaning down to grab Sam’s wrist. He grabs yours tightly as Dean grabs his other wrist.

“3, 2, 1.”

You both pull Sam up with relative ease, before crouching by the sides of the window, you and Sam opposite Dean.

It only takes a few moments of waiting before Charlie opens the window. Sam climbs in first, sideways on. Dean passes you the duffel bag which you throw to Sam. He catches it before setting it on the bed and rummaging through it.

You climb in next, with Dean following you. Sam whips around to look behind him after Charlie stands behind him.

“What did you tell Jill's mom?” He asks.

“Just that I needed some time alone with Jill's pictures and things,” She explains as Dean shuts the window and you draw the curtains from the top. “I hate lying to her.”

“Trust us, this is for the greater good. Hit the lights,” You instruct, as you notice Sam has pulled out what looks like a camera. Charlie turns the lights off as you search in the duffel for anything that could help.

“What are you guys looking for?” Charlie asks.

“We'll let you know as soon as we find it,” Dean admits. Sam fiddles with the digital camera before moving it towards you.

“Hey, night vision.” You flip on the night vision switch for him. “Perfect.”

Sam aims the camera at Dean, who notices after a second, performing a swift double-take. He turns his back slightly as he looks over his shoulder to face Sam.

“Do I look like Paris Hilton?” He raises his eyebrows once and smirks. You and Sam snort, before Sam walks away with the camera. You find your EMF meter, and Dean begins searching around near the other mirrors in the room.

Sam opens the closet door and starts filming around the mirror edge.

“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?” He asks.

“Beats me,” You and Dean say together, as Sam shuts the closet door with a soft click.

“I want to know why Jill said it in the first place,” Dean says somewhat firmly, as you look at your meter again. Nothing is showing up.

“It's just a joke,” Charlie defends. “Yeah, well somebody's gonna say it again, it's just a matter of time,” You say, walking into the bathroom to join Sam.

He notices something and pauses.

“Sam?” You ask. He shifts to let you see what’s on the camera screen after you turn off the EMF.

On the camera there are trickles of something - it’s glowing in the camera but you can’t see it without the camera.

“Hey,” You grab Dean and Charlie’s attention. “There's a black light in the trunk, right?”

You help Sam unhook the mirror and he carries it to the bed, laying it upside down as Dean quickly jumps out of the window to grab the light from the Impala.

Dean throws Sam the black light, which he catches as you tear off the brown paper which is attached to the back of the mirror.

Sam shines the light over the back of the mirror, and the UV rays pick up on a handprint. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion, as do Dean’s. As Sam keeps scanning the mirror, you see the words “Gary Bryman,”

“Gary.. Bryman?” Charlie reads.

“You know who that is?” Sam turns to look at her. “No,” She says.

You all leave the room, after putting the mirror back where it belongs. Charlie leaves through the front door, and you and your brothers climb out of the window again.

Sam goes first, then you and Dean. Sam slides down the roof with the duffel, before landing on his feet after dropping off.

You do the same, scooting off of the edge where Sam stands ready to catch you just in case. You bend your knees as you land and smile at Sam.

He shrugs but motions to the roof above you, just as Dean is about to fall.

“Coming through!”

You jump to the side as you hear Dean fall to the floor behind you. Charlie joins you not a moment too soon as you all trek to the park near the library.

You and Sam go to research as Dean and Charlie stay behind, sitting on a bench.

“So,” You start, pushing the door to the library open. “We’re going to have to talk about it, bud. Whether it’s me or Dean - personally, I’d go with me, because that boy will never let it go,” You say, as you ask the receptionist for records on a Gary Bryman.

You thank them as you and Sam sit at a table. “Well?” You ask. Sam looks up at you, a gentle expression on his face.

“Maybe later, sweet. But we have a job to do,” He states, swiping some folders from you. You sigh dramatically, causing Sam to smile.

It doesn’t take long to find what happened to Gary. “Got it,” You say proudly, showing Sam the file. He scribbles it down on a piece of paper and passes it to you as he takes the folders back to the receptionist.

You both make your way back to Dean and Charlie, who are talking on a bench.

“So, Gary Bryman was an 8-year-old boy. Two years ago he was killed in a hit and run. The car was described as a black Toyota Camry,” You glance at what Sam wrote on the paper in case you forget anything. “But nobody got the plates or saw the driver,” Sam adds.

“Oh my God,” Charlie breathes. “What?” Sam asks. “Jill drove that car,” She says.

“We need to get back to your friend Donna's house,” Dean states.

Charlie knocks on the door and persuades Donna to let you all in. You and your brothers run to the bathroom and take down the mirror together, laying it gently on the floor.

Sam runs the black light over the back of the mirror, which has an identical handprint to the one in Jill’s room. It reads ‘Linda Shoemaker.’

“Linda Shoemaker,” You read. You look at Dean and then at Sam.

You all go downstairs and ask Donna about her mom.

“Why are you asking me this?” She asks. “Look, we're sorry, but it's important,” You plead.

“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 says. You rub the back of your neck awkwardly.

“Now Donna, just listen -” “Get out of my house!” Dean is interrupted by Donna before she runs upstairs.

“Oh my God. Do you really think her dad could've killed her mom?” Charlie asks.

“Maybe,” You say honestly.

“I think I should stick around,” Charlie admits. You and Sam nod.

“All right. Whatever you do, don't—” “Believe me, I won't say it,” Dean is interrupted again. He shrugs it off as you all leave. You arrive at the motel again, and Sam pulls out his laptop to give to Dean. He sets up a printer you didn’t even know you had and starts typing. You and Sam look at the information you have on the wall, scanning for connections until you stop and turn around.

“Wait, wait, wait, you're doing a nationwide search?” You ask.

“Yep. The NCIC, the FBI database—at this point any Mary who died in front of a mirror is good enough for me,” He explains, as you and Sam sit down in next to him. “But if she's haunting the town, she should have died in the town,” Sam argues.

“I'm telling you there's nothing local, Y/N and I’ve checked. So unless you got a better idea—” “The way Mary's choosing her victims, it seems like there's a pattern,” You interrupt.

“I know, I was thinking the same thing,” Dean agrees. “With mister Shoemaker and Jill's hit and run,” Sam adds. “Both had secrets where people died,” Dean states.

You swallow nervously.

“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,” You chime in.

“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 agrees.

“Whether you're the one that summoned her or not,” Sam says. Your mind flashes to a memory you wish you could erase.

Sam glances at you. “You alright? You’ve gone totally red,” Sam comments. Your hand flies up to your cheek. “Yeah - I just feel really warm,” You lie. Sam nods and turns to Dean. You sigh in relief.

“Take a look at this,” Dean says, showing you a picture.

It’s of a woman lying by a mirror in a puddle of her own blood. You hear the printer turn on again and you turn your heard to see Dean handing you another picture of a handprint and the letters "Tre" painted with blood, presumably, next to it.

Sam leans over your shoulder to take a look, and you can’t help but feel jumpy, resisting the urge to flinch when either Sam or Dean comes close.

“Looks like the Same handprint,” You comment.

“Her name was Mary Worthington—an unsolved murder in Fort Wayne, Indiana,” Dean explains.

You sigh heavily and drop your head. “Does that mean we have to-”

“Yes. Yes it does,” Sam interrupts. “Y’know, no offence, De, but we probably spend way too much time in that car,” You say, grabbing your duffel, beginning to pack.

“Hey, hey,” Sam stops you, grabbing your wrist gently. “We’re coming back,” He smiles.

You roll your eyes playfully and swipe the keys to the Impala off of the dresser. “I call shotgun!” You grab the cold door knob and open the door, making your way to the parking lot. You run your hand over your face and let out a shaky sigh of relief.

You do not want to relieve that memory - you hear your footsteps echo through the empty space on the floor as you shake any of those thoughts away, instead replacing them with one of your favorite songs. You might regret that later.

You walk over to the Impala and run your fingertips over the smooth, black paintwork. Hearing incoming footsteps, you spin on your heel, twirling the keys around your fingers.

Sam and Dean approach quickly, and you smile at them before tossing the keys in Dean’s direction. Dean catches them before walking around the car, casting you a concerned glance.

Before you open the door to the passenger seat, Sam grabs your shoulder.

“Are you okay, sweet? You’re acting a little...strange,” He asks. “Dean noticed it too.”

You nod your head and grin. “Of course, I’m fine...” You pause for a moment, giving the impression that you’re thinking. “...Yeah you’re right I should probably sleep in the car. Which means I’m not gonna ride shotgun,” You admit quickly.

You open the door to the backseat as Dean starts the engine. You slip your shoes off and lie across the back seats. You rest your head on your arm and close your eyes, falling asleep to the sound and feeling of the Impala’s engine.

You open your eyes and yawn. You’re still in the Impala, and you can hear Sam and Dean having a conversation in front of you.

You put your hands either side of you and push yourself up, your hands sinking into the soft leather.

“She’ll be fine, it was a long day - and no coffee,” Sam says. You smirk, knowing that they’re talking about you.

You reach for your shoes and look up just as Dean glances into the rear view mirror.

“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty,” He jokes. You smile, only just noticing the sun leaking through the windows of the Impala. Sam turns around to face you.

“How was your sleep?” “How long was I asleep?” “About two hours,” Sam shrugs.

“So we’re here?” You ask. “Yep. Welcome to Fort Wayne, Indiana,” Dean smiles.

Your face lightens up and you throw your arms in the air. “I slept through the whole journey!” You grin. No stops for gas, no restroom breaks, no traffic problems.

Sam smiles at your childish excitement as Dean stops the car. You glance out the window and see a police or a detective agency.

“Where are we?” You ask. “We tracked down the Detective who worked the case,” Sam states.

“I was on the job for 35 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,” the Detective explains. He had dark coloured skin, with a moustache and slightly greying hair. He was holding a mug of coffee, and you can see the steam rising from it.

You and Sam take a look around the room, at the display cases, which held different pieces from various cases as Dean talks to the Detective.

“What exactly happened?” Dean asks. There’s a short pause. “You three said you were reporters?” The Detective asks. You turn around and advance towards them. Sam passes you his small notebook, which you read out of.

“We know Mary was 19, 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 29th someone broke into her apartment and murdered her, cut out her eyes with a knife,” You read.

“That's right,” The Detective nods. Sam walks up next to you and you pass his book back to him.

“See sir, when we asked you what happened, we wanted to know what you think happened,” Dean adds.

The Detective leads you into an office, and pulls out files out of a filing cabinet.

“Technically I'm not supposed to have a copy of this,” He says as he drops them with a thud, on his desk. You share a look with your brothers, furrowing your eyebrows slightly.

He takes one of the files and opens them, revealing the same picture Dean showed you earlier, with the letters ‘T-R-E.’

“Now see that there? T-R-E?” The Detective asks. “Yeah,” Dean confirms, leaning on his hands over the desk. Sam sits on the edge, writing in his notebook. You lean on the desk in a similar way to Dean.

“I think Mary was trying to spell out the name of her killer.”

“You know who it was?” Sam asks.

“Not for sure. But there was a local man, a surgeon-Trevor Sampson,” He starts, pulling out a grainy picture of a man, who was in a tuxedo, wearing dark glasses and toasting the camera with his drink. “And I think her cut her up good.”

“Now why would he do something like that?” You ask.

“Her diary mentioned a man that she was seeing. She called him by his initial, "T". Well, her last entry, she was gonna tell "T"'s wife about their affair,” He lowers his voice at the end.

“Yeah, but how do you know it was this guy, Sampson who killed her?” You ask.

“It's hard to say, but the way her eyes were cut out...it was almost professional,” The Detective states.

“But you could never prove it?” Dean concludes, standing up straight.

“No. No prints, no witnesses. He was meticulous,” The Detective confirms.

“Is he still alive?” You ask. Dean sticks his hands in his jean pockets and rocks backwards and forwards on his heels.

“Nope,” The Detective says, sitting down and sighing heavily. “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 asks. “She wasn't. She was cremated.” Dean rolls his eyes before looking back at the first picture.

“What about that mirror,” Dean starts, nodding at it slightly. You nudge him with your elbow. “It's not in some evidence lockup somewhere is it?” He asks.

“Ah, no. It was returned to Mary's family a long time ago,” The Detective sighs. Dean resists the urge to roll his eyes again.

“You have the names of her family by any chance?” Sam asks.

The Detective writes down some names and you leave, wishing him your best and thanking him for the help.

“And now we’ve gotta drive back,” You state, walking next to Sam, who is twirling the paper in his fingers.

“Do you want to make the calls to pass the time?” Sam asks. You smile, thinking it over for a second. “I don’t think I’ll be able to make all of them - you’ll have to help me out,” You reply as you reach the Impala. Sam chuckles as you slide into the back.

Sam makes the first couple of calls before leaving you with the last few, handing you the list. You start talking to him about the mirror, explaining that you were a buyer of Antique mirrors.

“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,” You reply, sighing and seeming slightly bummed out about the situation. You hang up the phone, pushing the antenna in with your mouth as you lean against the door..

“So?” Dean asks. “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,” You inform your brothers.

“So wherever the mirror goes, that's where Mary goes?” Sam asks. “Her spirit's definitely tied up with it somehow,” Sam states. “Isn't there an old superstition that says mirrors can capture spirits?” Dean asks.

“Yeah there is,” Sam says.

“Yeah, when someone would die in a house people would cover up the mirrors so the ghost wouldn't get trapped,” You explain.

“So Mary dies in front of a mirror, and it draws in her spirit,” Dean says as he drives over a bump in the otherwise smooth and empty road.

“Yeah, but how could she move through, like, a hundred different mirrors?” Sam asks.

“I don't know, but if the mirror is the source, I say we find it and smash it,” You suggest hopefully.

“Yeah, I don't know, maybe,” Sam responds. Dean hums in agreement as Sam’s cell phone starts to ring loudly. he picks it up as soon as it starts.

“Hello,” He says in a cheerful voice. You lean forwards in between the seats as Sam’s expression turns into one of concern, his eyebrows furrowing as he shifts in his seat, facing towards you.

“Charlie?”

Dean speeds up as Sam tells Charlie to meet you at your hotel room. He passes the phone to you after you tap him on the arm repeatedly to help Charlie calm down.

She hangs up after you say bye upon your arrival to the motel. You pass Sam his phone back as you all start running across the parking lot, your footsteps heavy.

Part 3:

Charlie sits on a bed with her head on her knees, hiding her face. You move around the room swiftly with your brothers, drawing the curtains and ridding the room of all reflective surfaces. The light in the room dims as you begin to get rid of the mirrors.

You find spare sheets, and throw them over the big mirrors, before helping Sam take down the heavy mirrors, placing them face down to the wall or floor.

Sam nods to you as you and Dean scout the room for any surfaces you’ve missed. Sam sits next to Charlie to comfort her as you grab a spare sheet from the pile to cover up the last mirror.

“Hey, hey, it's okay. Hey, you can open up your eyes Charlie. It's okay, all right?” He puts an arm around her shoulder as she looks up slowly. You see a mirror on the wall and stand on your toes to reach it, but it’s too high.

“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?”

You gesture for Dean to come and help you. He reaches it with ease as he reaches up, his shirt lifting up as he does. “And as long as you do that, she cannot get you,” Sam continues.

“But I can't keep that up forever... I'm gonna die, aren't I?” She says quietly. You spin on your heel to face her as Dean keeps looking around.

“No. No. Not anytime soon,” You assure her, as Dean sits down on the bed the other side of her.

You sit on your knees in front of her on the bed as Dean speaks. “All right Charlie. We need to know what happened,” He says.

“We were in the bathroom. Donna said it,” Charlie starts.

“That's not what we're talking about,” You interrupt. There’s a long pause as Charlie looks up at you. Something happened, didn't it? In your life...a secret...where someone got hurt,” You say as softly as you can. A tear slips down Charlie’s cheek. You glance at Sam, who glances at you. “Can you tell us about it?”

“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.’” You look over at Dean, who shifts uncomfortably.

“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 puts her head on her knees and begins to cry again.

“Okay, Charlie? Listen up. We’re gonna stop this, but we need you to do a few things for us. One, stay in this very spot - don’t look at anything which has a reflection, which means no phone, nothing. Two, wait for us to get back, we’ll give you a heads up,” You explain. She nods, and you and your brothers run out, back into the Impala.

Dean drives quickly, and it soon begins to rain.

“You know her boyfriend killing himself, that's not really Charlie's fault,” Dean says.

“You know as well as I do spirits don't exactly see shades of gray, Dean. Charlie had a secret, someone died, that's good enough for Mary,” Sam replies.

“I guess,” You agree. “You know, I've been thinking. It might not be enough to just smash that mirror,” You say. “Why, what do you mean?” Dean asks.

“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,” You explain.

“Well, how do you know that's going to work?” Dean asks pointedly. “I don't, not for sure,” You admit.

“Well, who's gonna summon her?” Dean enquires in a condescending tone.

“I will. She'll come after me,” Sam chimes in.

That wasn’t the direction I was taking it in, You think.

“You know what, that's it,” Dean snaps, pulling the car over to the side of the road. Dean turns off the engine and turns in his seat, facing Sam with a frustrated expression on his face.

“This is about Jessica, isn't it?” He asks. There’s a long pause, and you start getting nervous.

“You think that's your dirty little secret that you killed her somehow?” You bite your lip.

“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!” Dean continues.

“Now listen to me—It wasn't your fault!” He says it so fiercely that he honestly scares you. Sam refuses to look at Dean and you wonder whether you should stop him.

“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!” Sam finally looks over at him.

“I don't blame you,” He says calmly.

“Well you shouldn't blame yourself, because there's nothing you could've done,” Dean rants. You rub your hand over your face and groan internally.

“I could've warned her,” Sam says.

“About what? You didn't know what was gonna happen! And besides, all of this isn't a secret, I mean we know all about it. It's not gonna work with Mary anyway,” Dean carries on.

“No you don't,” Sam stops him. There’s a pause, and you look at Dean, reading his micro expression that says ‘Oh shit’. “I don't what?” “You don't know all about it. I haven't told you everything,” Sam admits.

“What are you talking about?” You ask. “Well it wouldn't really be a secret if I told you, would it?” Sam sasses.

You smile a little as Dean looks surprised, raising his eyebrows and leaning back a little. He looks out of the windscreen for a second before looking back.

“No,” He says pointedly. “I don't like it. It's not gonna happen, forget it,” He snaps.

‘My turn,’ You think.

“Guys? I’ll do it,” You say. Dean looks back at you. “No! It wouldn’t work for you anyway - I’ve been on every hunt with you, I know everything,” Dean says.

“So you’re saying you were spying on me when I left you and Dad?” You ask. Dean raises his eyebrows. “You did what?” Dean exclaims, catching on that you hunted by yourself.

“Exactly. Now seeing as I’m the oldest person here with guilt eating them alive, I’ll do it,” You say firmly.

“No. Neither of you are doing it, that’s not gonna happen,” Dean insists.

“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,” You explain. Dean glares at you. “You've got to let me do this.”

You arrive at the shop the mirror was sent to. You crouch down at the keyhole and pull out your lockpicks, as Sam and Dean keep watch. Dean rocks on his heels as you find all of the pins in the lock. It opens after a few moments and you all walk in.

Despite the fact that it’s dark, you notice the amount of mirrors around you - many. Sam pulls out his flashlight as you look around in awe of the mirrors littered everywhere.

“Well...that's just great,” Dean comments sarcastically, pulling the picture of Mary’s dead body out of his pocket.

“All right, let's start looking,” You say, glancing at the photo before everyone splits up.

You look over every mirror you come across - big ones, small ones, ones that sit on your desk. They each had individual price tags on them. You stoop down to the floor and look at one.

“$78? Damn,” You say to yourself, before standing up and moving on.

What you don’t see, however, is a flashing red light which seems to be part of an alarm...

You stop in front of a mirror, with the same engravings as Mary’s.

“Maybe they've already sold it,” Dean calls as Sam stops next to you, his torch landing on it.

“I don't think so,” He says, as Dean walks over. He reaches into his pocket and pulls the picture out again to compare. You’re right. You take a deep breath to calm your nerves.

“That's it,” Dean sighs. “You sure about this?” He asks you. Sam hands Dean his flashlight as you nod.

Sam walks up to the mirror with you as you sigh.

“Bloody Mary,” Sam says with you. “What are you doing?” You hiss. Sam says nothing, but takes your hand in his. “Bloody Mary,” He says it with you again, his warm hand calming you. You look over your shoulder at Dean, who gives you an unsure look back.

You grab a crowbar that Dean brought with him and hold it tightly. “Bloody Mary.”

A light shines into the store, searching for something - or rather, someone.

Dean turns to the light and then back at you, torn between what he should do.

“I'll go check that out. Stay here, be careful,” He says quickly, grabbing your shoulders and pressing a light kiss to your forehead.

You let go of Sam’s hand and ready the crowbar over your shoulder, finding the cool metal and the small weight it carries strangely calming as you hold it tightly with both hands.

“Smash anything that moves,” Dean instructs, moving cautiously towards the front door.

He sees a headlight of a car, and hides behind a dresser. “Crap.” He puts the crowbar down and begins to walk to the door.

Meanwhile, you stay in front of the mirror, your eyes fixed on your reflection. You hear a strange breath that sends chills down your back, making every hair stand on edge.

You and Sam both turn to look around in different directions, your hearts pounding, before turning back to the mirror, which this time had Mary standing in it.

She was a little girl, and her hair was covering her face - not that you would be able to see it anyway, as there wasn’t enough light.

You tap Sam on the arm, making him turn back to you. He finds another crowbar which Dean must’ve brought with him on a nearby dresser, and he picks it up swiftly, throwing it over his shoulder and holding it so tight that his knuckles turn white.

You blink, and when you open your eyes Mary isn’t in the mirror anymore. You continue staring down your reflection.

You sense movement next to you and step away just in time to avoid Sam’s swinging crowbar. As it cuts the air, you feel the wind against your cheeks.

You turn to see Sam’s crowbar hit the mirror, shattering it completely. You see that she’s in a neighbouring mirror and swing yours at it, the force of your crowbar hitting the back of the mirror knocking you back a little. You turn to face her mirror, trying to slow your heartbeat.

“Come on. Come into this one,” Sam mutters. You hold the crowbar tighter, if possible, and tilt your head in confusion as Sam’s reflection begins to fade away.

Your reflection moves on its own, like it has a mind of its own. Your lungs begin to feel restricted, and you have trouble breathing. You see that your reflection has a trickle of blood running down her face from her eye.

You hear Sam’s crowbar hit the floor, and yours does a few moments afterwards, after your heart feels like it’s burning, causing you to clutch your chest.

“It's your fault. You killed him. You killed that boy,” Your reflection starts to speak. You scowl at your reflection as it continues to taunt you.

“You never told him the truth—who you really were,” It begins.

But why did you have to? He didn’t need to know.

The pain in your chest grows and your knees buckle.

“But it's different, isn't it? He was only a kid. You could’ve stopped it, you had a gun, for God’s sake!”

You double over, feeling the blood running down your face. You begin to break out in a sweat, as every heartbeat sends a burning sensation through your body.

“You knew you could’ve gotten up, you just gave up on him, didn’t you?! If you hadn’t been there in the first place, he still would be alive!” It sneers.

“But a whole lotta other people would’ve died if I wasn’t,” You mutter, despite the pain which was causing your body to shake, as it caries on with its rant.

“And then afterwards, you were so desperate to believe it wasn’t your fault you just left town! How could you ignore it like that? You thought it would be easy, but of course it wouldn’t be!”

You hear incoming footsteps, and crawl away from the mirror, behind a small table. You look over just in time for to see Dean swinging a crowbar at the mirror with what seemed like a battle cry of some sort. The force was so powerful that even the pieces had pieces.

You shield your face with your arm as Dean stoops to the floor to Sam.

“Sam, Sammy!” He breathes, cupping his face and making him look up as you pant heavily, recovering slowly.

“It's Sam.”

Dean looks around quickly. “Where’s Y/N?” He asks.

“Here,” You raise your hand as you lean against the side of the table, so that he can see you. Dean stands up and covers the distance in a few steps, as he crouches in front of you, placing his hands on your jaw, lifting your head up slightly.

“God, are you okay?” He asks, wiping the blood that was trailing down your face away with his thumbs.

“Uh, yeah,” You reply, slowly shifting your position to the side. “Come on, come on,” He mutters as he pulls you up. He puts your arm around his neck and walks with you towards Sam.

“Can you walk?” He asks. You nod as he carefully removes your arm from around his neck. You pull your sleeve over your hand and wipe your face as Dean pulls Sam up. You glance back at the mirror as you walk behind your brothers as they begin to walk out of the shop.

You hear a sound which strangely resembles someone gasping for breath, and you turn around to see, presumably Mary, crawling across the floor, much like Samara coming out of the TV in The Ring.

She advances towards you, her head permanently tilted to the side, and you begin to feel the same burning feeling as you did not ten minutes earlier, causing you to stumble to the ground in pain.

You look to your side, and spot another mirror, which you grab and pull in front of you, so that Mary is forced to see her own reflection. You strain against the force of the mirror wanting to be put on the floor, but you find that it helps the pain.

“You killed them! All those people! You killed them!” You can hear her reflection, and you lean over to look over the side. Mary starts to choke to death, before melting into a pile of blood.

The blood splatters across the floor, spreading everywhere. You sit up and throw down the mirror you’re holding, it shatters upon impact with the floor.

You and you brothers sit up, and you scoot backwards while assessing all of the broken shards of glass across the floor.

“Hey, guys?” You say. “Yeah?” They respond. “This has got to be like...what? 600 years of bad luck?” You joke. The both chuckle weakly, and you shrug.

You all stand up hesitantly, and leave the shop, cleaning your faces as you make your way back to the car.

Charlie sits next to you in the Impala, while Dean and Sam sit in the front. Dean pulls over in front of Charlie’s house and stops the engine.

“So this is really over?” She asks after Dean swings an arm over the seat to turn around.

“Yeah, it's over,” He nods,

“Thank you,” She smiles. Dean reaches back to shake her hand and she smiles before getting out of the car.

“Charlie?” You stop her, sliding over the seat ti the window she’s standing next to. She turns around.

“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,” You comfort. She smiles faintly at you, before turning to go into her house.

Dean turns around and raises his eyebrows at you. “That's good advice,” He admits. You smile at him and he smiles back, before he starts the engine and driving off again. You love the sound of the Impala, no matter how many times you try to deny it, your opinion won’t change.

“Hey Sam?” Dean asks. “Yeah?” “Now that this is all over, I want you to tell me what that secret is.”

You lean forwards to look at Sam, curious as to what his reply would be.

“Look...you're my brother and sister, and I'd die for you, but there are some things I need to keep to myself,” He says. You frown, before tapping his shoulder as he looks out of the window, his eyes landing on a tree. He follows it as Dean drives around the corner, and Sam seems to pause.

“Y/N? What about you?” Dean asks. “You’ll find out eventually, but for now, I think I’ll keep it to myself - who knows when I might need it,” You reply with a wink.

Dean shakes his head with a small smile.

You reach into the side of the door and pull out one of your books, before slipping your shoes off and pulling your knees up, reading to the sound of the Impala’s engine.

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