#who will be Charlie Jenkins for the purposes of this fic

[setaripendragon]

Trapped in the Amber - 1x04

Book 1 :: 01 - 02 - 03 - 04 So this has always been one of my favourite episodes. Charlie (SPN has such a problem with reusing names, oh well) is an amazing character, and she’s going to get a recurring role in this story, because I said so. Also, for once, I get to make the (dis)claimer that the opinions expressed herein by the characters (specifically about Charlie’s ‘secret’) are absolutely the views of the author, and I projected like hell all over this chapter ^^” (Some things really needed to be said outright and just weren’t in this episode and I’m still mad about it.)

Toledo, Ohio – Saturday 14th January 2006

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

“More than that.” The assistant replies with an indecent level of glee as he drew the sheet back away from the corpse. “They practically liquefied.”

Meira has to fight not to pull a face at the state the man’s face is in. If it weren’t for the lack of scorch marks, she would have thought… Well. There are no scorch marks. She’s honestly completely stumped by this, which doesn’t happen to her often. Angelic memory means she doesn’t really forget things, but unlike the angels that were created before time began, she does have to experience them first. And this? This is brand new to her.

“Any sign of a struggle? Like maybe somebody did it to him?” Dean asks.

“Nope. Besides the daughter he was all alone.” The assistant replies.

Which doesn’t really mean much when a good half of what they hunt is incorporeal, but it does at least rule out the other half. Maybe. She doesn’t think she’s going to be much help here. She lets the conversation about skulls full of blood and exploding eyeballs pass her by, and valiantly restrains a snort when the assistant makes them bribe him again.

She can’t really complain about his morals when their next stop is crashing a funeral. It’s the eeriest thing Meira’s ever seen, and she almost freezes in the doorway. She thought she was getting used to having her grace bound, to not being able to see people’s souls, to not knowing who they are, but this is just not something she’s prepared for. There’s no emotion here.

She knows there is, of course, knows that these people are feeling just as deeply as those at any other funeral she’s ever seen, but she can’t feel it, eddies of grief and sorrow heavy around her. It’s just air, hollow and empty and sickening. Swallowing hard, she follows Sam and Dean into the house, and then out back when a helpful old man points out the daughters. Meira hovers, watching Sam and Dean reassure the younger daughter that her father’s death wasn’t her fault.

Meira decides to stay downstairs while Sam and Dean go to poke around where the guy actually died. It’s a little easier for two people to be inconspicuous than three, after all, and she wants to talk to Donna and Lily a little more. She knows what it’s like to lose a parent suddenly, after all, even if hers aren’t dead. She coaxes Lily out of her guilt and gets her talking about school and her friends, and Donna gives her a painfully grateful look that Meira returns with an understanding smile.

Toledo, Ohio – Sunday 15th January 2006

Meira foregoes sleep to help with the research, but even after Sam passes out, they get nowhere. “Here’s something- Never mind.” Dean says. “Her name was Laura.” He rolls his eyes.

“Middle name?” Meira asks, because at this point, she’s grasping at straws.

Dean makes a thoughtful face and checks. “Middle name Nichole.” He reports, throwing the papers down with disgust. He stares at them for long enough that Meira goes back to ploughing through her own stack of records, so she’s startled when he asks “Hey, is Meira some sort of derivative of Mary?”

“No, actually.” Meira answers slowly, a little confused. “It’s Hebrew. It means ‘god’s light’ or ‘one who illuminates’. Mary is English, although it comes from the Hebrew name Miriam, which means ‘bitterness’.”

“Huh.” Dean grunts, and then, at her continuing look of confusion, shrugs. “Just curious. Never heard that name before.” He points out.

“Qaada picked it.” Meira tells him on impulse, and then wishes she’d just kept her mouth shut. She’s still not sure how much of her life she ought to share with him, really. It feels a little like she’s stealing from him somehow. One day, he’s going to be holding a baby in his arms, and he’s not going to tell Qaada to name her because it just feels like the right thing to do, he’s going to do it because he knows that’s how it’s supposed to happen.

Dean blinks. “Is Qaada Hebrew for ‘dad’ or something?” He asks.

“Close enough.” Meira agrees, which is as close as she can get to saying yes without outright lying.

Dean is distracted from questioning her further when Sam wakes up with a gasp. “Why’d you let me fall asleep?” He asks, voice raspy and hollowed out.

“Cause I’m an awesome brother.” Dean retorts. “So what’d you dream about?”

“Lollipops and candy canes.” Sam answers, completely flat.

Dean rolls his eyes. “Yeah. Sure.”

“You find anything?” Sam asks, when Dean doesn’t offer up an alternative topic of conversation. Dean catches him up on their complete lack of anything substantial, and Meira looks back down at her stack of papers.

“Whatever’s happening here, maybe it just ain’t Mary.” Dean suggests.

“Or maybe it’s new.” Meira offers, only to be interrupted by Sam’s phone ringing. Dean arches an eyebrow at her while Sam locates his phone, and Meira shrugs. “Look, you said yourself that this myth isn’t particularly rigid. There’s a lot of variations.” She points out as Sam answers his phone. Dean nods. “Well, then, maybe this is just another variation. Maybe her spirit went dormant for some reason, and we don’t have records far enough back? Maybe she’s not actually dead, she’s in a coma, or she’s a potential psychic with a fuck-tonne of issues?” Meira gestures vaguely in the air to indicate an entire world of possibilities, and Dean pulls a duck-face of annoyed acceptance.

“That was Charlie.” Sam says, flipping his phone closed. “She said there’s something she thinks we need to hear about.”

“Charlie?” Meira asks, although she’s already putting the records aside and grabbing up her coat.

“One of Donna’s friends.” Dean tells her, grabbing his keys and starting for the door. “She caught us checking out the bathroom and threatened to scream if we didn’t tell her the truth about who we are and what we were doing there.”

“Oh, awesome. I like her.” Meira announces in delight.

Dean snorts. “Yeah, she was pretty freaking ballsy.”

“I told her to call us if she saw or heard anything weird or unusual.” Sam adds as they climb into the Impala. “She sounded really freaked out on the phone.”

The meet Charlie on a public green, and she tells them about Jill’s death in between trying not to cry. About half way through the explanation, Meira gives in, sits down beside her, and puts an arm around her shoulders. Charlie glances at her, tries for a smile that doesn’t really work, and finishes up her explanation. “And they found her on the bathroom floor, and, uh- her- her eyes, they were- g-gone.”

“I’m sorry.” Sam murmurs.

“And she said it.” Charlie adds in a rush, as though pushing herself to get the words out before she falters. “I heard her say it. But it couldn’t be because of that. I’m- insane, right?” It’s almost a plea.

Meira remembers what happened last time she dropped that bomb on someone, and looks to Sam, eyebrows raised. This time, she’s leaving it up to him so he can’t bite her head off later. Sam looks back, lips pursed and resignation written all over his face.

“No, you’re not insane.” Dean says, when neither Meira or Sam move to actually reassure the girl.

“Oh, god.” Charlie breathes. “That makes me feel so much worse.”

Meira gives her a comforting squeeze. “At least now you know there is an explanation.” She points out, and Charlie looks at her with her brow all crumpled up in distress and confusion. “People aren’t just dropping dead for no reason. Something is doing this, and we can stop it.” Charlie does seem to take some comfort in that, sniffling and nodding.

“We could use your help with that.” Dean adds, and after a moment of wide-eyed staring, Charlie nods again.

Then she helps them break into a teenage girl’s room. A dead teenage girl’s room, but still. Ballsy as hell. Sam asks her how she managed to get the room to herself, and she explains the lie she spun for Jill’s mom. “I hate lying to her.” She mutters.

“But you’re good at it.” Meira comments, and Charlie shoots her a stricken look. Meira winces. “That was meant to be a compliment, I swear. You’re confident, not just ‘you know how to act confident’, but you knew what you needed to do, and you did it, no matter how distasteful. Takes a strong person to hold onto that sort of conviction.”

“Oh, I guess.” Charlie hedges, shrinking in on herself a little. “I just don’t want anybody else to get hurt, that’s all.” Meira gives her a pointed smile, and waits for her to realise all by herself exactly what she just said. Charlie blushes when she catches up.

“So I don’t get it.” Sam says suddenly while checking the mirror for ectoplasmic residue. “I mean, the first victim didn’t summon Mary, and the second victim did. How’s she choosing them?”

“Beats me.” Dean replies, then glances at Charlie. “I want to know why Jill said it in the first place.”

“It was just a joke.” Charlie says, uncomfortable and defensive.

“A joke?” Meira echoes incredulously.

Charlie looks at her and then away. “We were talking on the phone, and she- I don’t know, she thought it was funny that I was… that I thought it might have been something…” She trails off uncomfortably.

“She was mocking you.” Meira realises, unimpressed.

“No!” Charlie says at once, and then falters. “Well, maybe a little, but… God, it would have been kind of funny if it wasn’t real.” She complains, wrapping her arms around herself and looking miserable.

Meira has her doubts about that, but she doesn’t voice them. “Yeah, well,” Dean sounds sceptical too, but he doesn’t push the subject either, “somebody’s going to say it again, it’s just a matter of time.” He points out ominously.

“Hey.” Sam says, leaning out of the bathroom. “There’s a blacklight in the trunk, right?”

They get the blacklight, and find a name written on the back of the bathroom mirror. Meira’s going to go out on a limb here and say that’s probably a clue. So then it’s off to the library to research the name, and Charlie tags along. This turns out to be a good thing when she figures out the connection between Jill and the name Mary had written on the girl’s mirror.

“We need to go back to your friend Donna’s house.” Dean says, and off they go.

Finding the man’s wife’s name on the back of the mirror is kind of sickening, and Donna clearly doesn’t like the implications of their questions, either. “Yeah, Linda’s my mom, okay? And she overdosed on sleeping pills. It was an accident and that’s it.” She insists. The silence following that pronouncement is damning, and Donna can hear it too. “I think you should leave.”

“Do you really believe that?” Meira asks, before she can push the issue.

Donna rounds on her, furious and scared. “What are you trying to say?!”

“I’m saying that even if you’re right, and she took those pills herself, I’d really like to know why she was taking enough to risk an overdose.” Meira points out calmly.

Donna blanches. “No.” She insists. “No, stop it. My dad’s dead, and you-”

“Sins don’t get erased by death.” Meira counters. Donna lets out a choked sob, shaking her head in denial, but Meira holds her gaze and refuses to let her. After a brief struggle with herself, Donna breaks down into tears, and Meira carefully draws her into a hug, checking every step of the way that Donna wants the comfort.

After several awkward minutes, Dean clears his throat. “You gonna be okay here if we head back to the motel?” He asks Meira. “I think we’ve got some research to do.”

“Yeah.” Meira assures him. Dean and Sam linger awkwardly a moment longer, then go.

Meira and Charlie eventually manage to herd Donna into the living room, get her sitting down with a glass of water and some tissues, and let her cry it out. “My dad wouldn’t-!” comes out several times, followed by more tears. Meira doesn’t bother to point out that if Donna had been certain of that, she wouldn’t be this upset by the notion.

Eventually, she cries herself out, and Charlie suggests putting on a movie. Donna nods listlessly, so Charlie bounds up and sticks on a cartoon that Donna gives her a judging look for. Charlie looks away. “I didn’t think a rom-com would be the best idea right now.” She points out quietly, and Donna looks away, something caught between rage and grief on her face.

Five minutes into the movie, Donna curls up around a cushion and falls asleep, obviously worn out by her grief. Meira and Charlie share a look over her, and then stay right where they are. Donna’s alone enough already, they’re not going to leave her to wake up alone, too. Charlie goes to get a blanket, and Meira refills the glass of water, ready for when Donna wakes up.

The movie is almost over when Meira’s phone rings, and she fishes it out, expecting it to be Sam or Dean. It’s not, it’s Haley. Eyebrows rising, Meira answers. “Hey, what’s up?” She asks lightly.

“Hey.” Haley answers, weirdly hesitant. Meira’s just about to ask what’s wrong more seriously, when Haley abruptly blurts out “How do you tell if a house is haunted?”

Ah. Meira has to grin a little, and gets up to wander into the kitchen so that she’s not interrupting the movie for Charlie. “My first stop would be checking for EMF. Get a reader, scan the place, and if it goes off like you’re standing next to a wireless router when you’re not, you’ve probably got a ghost. Why?”

“A friend of mine, she’s just moved into this new house, and… things keep moving about on their own, and she keeps getting into accidents. She’s a gymnast, she’s not that clumsy.” Haley insists.

“Sounds like it could maybe be a poltergeist.” Meira tells her, grimacing.

“Poltergeist? That’s different from a ghost?” Haley asks, sounding a touch incredulous.

“Yeah. Ghosts are people who refused to move on for one reason or another, but since human souls aren’t meant to linger without a body to protect them, they tend to… degrade over time, even if they’re not vengeful to start with. Poltergeists are… accumulations of energy. Usually negative, but I did find a poltergeist in a hospital, once, that manifested because of a bunch of miraculous recoveries. It went around healing people.”

“Oh, wow.” Haley says, and she sounds like she’s smiling, just a little bit. “So, how do I tell the difference, and what do I do about it once I know?” She asks, getting back to the practical issues without missing a beat. Meira really wishes she’d gotten the chance to kiss her.

“It can be a bit hit and miss telling the difference.” Meira admits with a grimace. “If it’s a ghost, it’s probably someone who died there, or who lived there for a really long time. You’ll have to find out who, and then salt and burn their bones.”

There’s an indrawn breath, and then Haley lets the breath out slowly. “That’s disgusting.” She announces, sounding more matter-of-fact than outright disgusted.

Meira snorts. “Yeah, it is.” She agrees, then sobers up a little. “Look, we’re in the middle of a job right now, but if you want we can come by once we’ve sorted this out and see if we can help?” She offers.

“No. It’s fine.” Haley assures her. “There’s no reason I can’t do it myself. I’m not that squeamish.” She announces, and Meira’s fond grin is back. “So, if it’s a ghost, salt and burn the bones, but if it’s a poltergeist?” Haley challenges.

“Poltergeists are more difficult. You’ll need a purification ritual, or a hell of a lot of the exact opposite kind of metaphysical energy to cancel it out, but that’s basically impossible unless you have a psychic about to tell you what kind of poltergeist it is. If you’ve got a pen, I can give you a basic recipe.”  She offers.

“Hang on a minute,” Haley says, and then, once she’s presumably found herself a pen, “go on.” So Meira does, listing out the herbs and other ingredients needed, and adding in the instructions of how to purify a house. “Okay, thanks.” Haley says once she’s done. “Now how do I figure out which it is?”

“Best guess?” Meira offers, and Haley makes an annoyed sound. “Uh, poltergeists don’t tend to cause cold spots. If you ever see a human-like apparition, it’s a ghost. If it is a poltergeist, and it’s already trying to hurt someone, there will be some sort of atrocity in the history of the place to cause it.”

“Alright.” Haley agrees. “I’ll figure it out.”

“You took on a wendigo. Poltergeists aren’t gonna phase you.” Meira reminds her fondly.

Haley laughs. “Thanks.”

“Anytime.”

They say quick goodbyes, and then Meira hangs up and turns to go back into the living room, only to find Charlie leaning in the doorway, her eyes a bit wide. “All that stuff is really out there, isn’t it?” Charlie asks, sounding dazed.

Meira nods. “Yeah. And a hell of a lot more, besides.”

“God.” Charlie breathes, closing her eyes. “That’s terrifying.”

“It’s the same world you were living in yesterday.” Meira reminds her. Charlie gives her a look, and Meira shrugs. “Look, if you want someone to pretend it’s all a ghost story and there’s no monsters under the bed, you’ve got the wrong girl. Try giving Sam a call.” She advises dryly.

“I don’t want that.” Charlie insists straight away, and then sighs. “It’s just scary, that’s all.”

“Yeah.” Meira agrees.

“And you just… go around looking for it?” Charlie asks abruptly, incredulous. Meira shrugs and nods, and Charlie gapes at her. “Why?”

It’s a good question. Meira’s never lived the true hunter lifestyle before. Sure, she’s gone on the occasional hunt with her dad, and she’s run into more than her fair share of monsters, but that wasn’t because she’d gone looking for them. They’d all come looking for her. And now she’s only tagging along with Sam and Dean because she has nowhere else in the world to belong. So instead of answering for herself, she thinks about some of the things her dad has said about why he hunts. “Because someone has to.” She settles on finally. “There are monsters out there, Charlie, and someone needs to stop them before they hurt any more people. Most people don’t even believe they’re real, and so they don’t know how to protect themselves. So we protect them.”

Charlie nods slowly, staring at the floor and chewing on her lower lip. Meira gives her the time she needs to process, and is impressed when she suddenly looks up, steel in her eyes. “Teach me.” She says. “That’s what you were doing, wasn’t it? With whoever was on the phone. Teaching them how to protect themselves. I don’t want to die because I didn’t know better than to avoid something.”

Meira beams at her, inordinately proud of her for even thinking of it, never mind outright asking. “Sure. I probably won’t be sticking around long enough to do more than give you the bare basics, but if you give me your number, you can text me any questions you have.” She offers, and Charlie nods. So they exchange numbers, and then they sit down to talk about the most basic protections, the most common supernatural problems, and what to do about them.

Toledo, Ohio – Monday 16th January 2006

They’re on the way back from Fort Wayne when Charlie calls Meira. She’s expecting questions about what they talked about yesterday, what she gets instead is a desperate sob and a whispered “Oh, God, she’s here,” that sends a chill down her spine.

“Charlie?” Meira calls, sitting bolt upright in the back seat.

“Bloody Mary, she’s- Donna said it, and- and she’s coming for me.” Charlie blurts out in a rush, voice shaking, followed by a whimper.

“What’s going on?” Dean demands.

“Okay, Charlie, here’s what you’re going to do. You’re going to sit down, take a breath, and close your eyes.” Meira orders, keeping her voice as calm as she can. In the front, Dean swears, and floors the gas pedal. “Can you do that for me?”

“Y-yeah.” Charlie stammers.

“Good. Now, tell me where you are, and we’ll come get you.” Meira instructs.

“Outside school.” Charlie breathes. “I- I saw her in- she’s everywhere. In- in windows and the t-teacher’s glasses.”

Well, that’s not terrifying at all. Jesus.  “That’s why you’re keeping your eyes closed, okay.” Meira soothes. “Now, are you somewhere public? Will other people see you and try to move you?”

“N-no. There’s a- an alley, between two of the houses across the street. No windows, so I-”

“Good, that was smart.” Meira compliments. “Do you think you can tell me how this happened? Why on earth did Donna say it?”

She hears Charlie take a deep, shuddering breath. “She- she was asking about… about why- why you guys were asking about- about her mom, and she- I tried to explain, but she got so mad, she said- said that you’d ‘made her think all that awful stuff’ for no reason, and how dare I go along with-” Charlie cuts off her explanation with a sob, and Meira murmurs a few soothing encouragements. “I told her it wasn’t for no reason, that- that she had gone after her dad instead of Lily for a reason, and she scoffed, and- and then she said it, like-”

“Like she was proving it wasn’t real.” Meira concludes, thinking, uncharitably, that Donna Shoemaker deserves a trickster’s attention for that. Grief or no grief, it’s a shitty thing to risk a friend’s life just to maintain your own blissfully ignorant illusion. And of course, they’re going to make damn sure Mary doesn’t kill Charlie, and so Donna is going to go on thinking she’s vindicated herself. Oh, yeah, Meira really wants to set Pabbi on her.

Biting back her anger, Meira puts her hand over the bottom of her phone to ask Dean “How long?”

“Fifteen minutes.” Dean says grimly.

Meira nods, and goes back to reassuring Charlie. She keeps her on the phone the whole time, talking her through the panic. Once they get back to Toledo, she alternates between reassurances to Charlie and directions to Dean. They pick Charlie up, and Meira guides her into the car while making sure she keeps her eyes closed. Then they take her back to the motel and do their best to cover up every reflective surface in Meira’s room.

Sam sits next to Charlie on the bed while Dean throws a towel over the TV, and Meira tacks up a sheet over the stupid frosted glass divider that serves absolutely no purpose but to be annoying in a situation like this. Meira honestly contemplated just smashing it. “Hey.” Sam says once Meira’s done. “Hey, it’s okay. You can open up your eyes, Charlie. It’s okay. Alright. Now listen. You’re going to stay right here, on this bed, and you’re not going to look at glass, or anything else that has a reflection, okay? Now, as long as you do that, she cannot get you.”

“But I can’t keep that up forever.” Charlie retorts, quiet but certain. “I’m going to die, aren’t I?”

“No.” Sam insists. “No, not anytime soon.”

Meira goes to sit next to Charlie, crawling right into the middle of the bed and putting an arm around her. “We’re going to stop her, Charlie.” She adds, and when Charlie looks at her imploringly, she gives her a reassuring smile. “Remember? This is what we do.” Swallowing hard, Charlie nods, and sits a little straighter.

“Alright, Charlie.” Dean says, perching on the end of the bed. “We need to know what happened.”

“We were in the bathroom, Donna said-” Charlie begins.

“That’s not what we’re talking about.” Dean interrupts. “Something happened, didn’t it? In your life. A secret. Someone got hurt.” Charlie blinks and sends tears cascading down onto her cheeks. Dean shares a look with Sam before pressing on, gentler than before. “Can you tell us about it?”

Charlie’s lip starts trembling, but when she starts talking, her voice is strong. “I had this boyfriend. I loved him, but he kinda scared me too, you know? And, one night, at his house, we got in this fight. And 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 going to kill myself.’ And do you know what I said? I said ‘go ahead’ and I left.”

“Good.” Meira says it before she can stop herself, and is aware of everyone’s eyes snapping to her in shock. God, she’s actually a little glad, for once, that Jace isn’t here, because if she’s this angry, Jace probably would go and find Charlie’s ex’s soul, and if he isn’t there already, deliver him directly to Hell, personally.

“What?” Charlie breathes.

Meira looks at her, and sees all the pain and guilt she’s been carrying around because of some asshole who tried to make his own life and his own choices her responsibility. “Charlie, his life was not your responsibility, and he had no right to lay that on you.”

“But I-” Charlie begins, and then falters.

“No, listen to me.” Meira insists, kneeling up and turning Charlie to face her fully. “That was his choice to make, not yours. He tried to chain you to him by making you feel responsible for his life and his actions, and you were right to do what you needed to, to free yourself. Just because his threat was aimed at himself, instead of someone else you love, doesn’t make it any less a threat. The fact that he followed through because you didn’t give him what he wanted is on him, not on you.”

“I-” Charlie says again, and then her expression crumples, and she starts to cry in earnest. “I didn’t want him to die.” She says, desperate.

Meira pulls her into her arms. “I know. It’s not your fault.”

“She’s right, it’s not.” Dean adds. Then he clears his throat, a hard, almost angry look on his face, and gets up. “Right, let’s go gank this bitch already.” He says, and Sam gets up immediately. Dean glances at Meira when she doesn’t move. “Meira?”

“I’ll stay here with Charlie.” Meira replies. “Keep her safe.”

“No.” Charlie says quietly, voice ragged. “You should go. It’s not like there’s anything you can- can really do here, anyway.”

Meira looks at her, impressed again by the strength in her. “I can keep you company.” She points out. “That’s important, too. Sam and Dean can handle this bitch, no problem.” She points out, and Charlie almost manages a smile, ducking her head in a way that’s not quite a nod, but that Meira takes as agreement anyway. She’s not leaving Charlie to sit here, alone in a dark room, with nothing to do but contemplate her douchebag ex and her impending death. No way.

“Hell yeah we can.” Dean agrees before heading out the door with Sam on his heels.

Toledo, Ohio – Tuesday 17th January 2006

Once it’s all over, Meira takes Charlie shopping. She tells Sam and Dean she wants to do something nice for her after the last few days, and Sam and Dean agree to leave that evening, instead of in the morning. They don’t have another hunt lined up yet anyway, so there’s no trouble with taking a day of down-time. She doesn’t tell them that it’s not clothes they’re shopping for. Well, not just clothes. They do get Charlie a nice leather jacket and some jeans that are easier to move in than her usual.

They go to a jewellery store and commission an anti-possession charm. Charlie will have to pick it up herself in a couple of weeks time, but it’s on its way, and that seems to make her feel better. They buy meters and meters of plastic tubing and a giant bag of rock-salt from a hardware store, along with a pocket knife, and then go poking around a dozen antique stores until they find a pure iron fire poker and a sterling silver cutlery set. They also buy her a rosary, along with a bottle of water that Meira blesses for her.

“I thought you needed to be ordained to make holy water.” Charlie remarks as they’re leaving the store, considering her new rosary with a slightly pinched expression.

“You might.” Meira acknowledges with a shrug. She honestly has no idea if just her blessing, without her grace being able to reach out and touch Charlie’s soul, would be enough, but Charlie certainly has it. “But best to have a rosary on hand anyway, just in case. Besides, as long as you’re careful, that bottle could last you forever.” Charlie looks at the simple one litre bottle, and then arches a sceptical eyebrow at Meira. “No, really.” Meira assures her, grinning. “Add more water and it becomes holy water, too. As long as you have some left, you can make it last forever.”

While they’re searching thrift stores for a decent rug with a pentacle on it, Charlie’s phone rings. She takes one look at the display, and her expression closes off. “Who-?” Meira asks softly.

“Donna.” Charlie answers, then takes a breath, and answers it, but doesn’t speak first.

Meira unashamedly boosts her hearing to eavesdrop. “…Charlie?”

“Yeah?” Charlie answers, level, not cold, but not overly warm, either.

“Oh, thank god.” Donna sighs. “Your mom called, she said you didn’t come home last night, and I heard that you’d freaked out at school yesterday.” She explains. “You’re okay, right?” Charlie’s lips thin and her jaw works as she tries several times to speak, and fails each time. “Charlie?” Donna prompts, voice going high with worry.

“Why do you care?” Charlie suddenly bursts out.

“What?” Donna replies, and then, after a beat. “Oh my god, Charlie, just because we had a fight yesterday doesn’t mean I want you to- to have some sort of episode and throw yourself in front of a car or something! Jesus!”

“You nearly got me killed yesterday!” Charlie retorts loudly, and then casts an embarrassed look around. Thankfully, there’s no one else in the store except the clerk, and they’re studiously pretending not to be able to hear anything.

“No, I didn’t. It’s not real, Charlie.” Donna retorts scornfully.

“The only reason I’m not lying in a pool of my own blood with my eyes gouged out just like your dad-” Donna sucks in a sharp breath. “-is because those ‘freaks’ risked their lives to save me. You-” Charlie cuts herself off and closes her eyes.

Donna scoffs. “If that’s true, who did you kill?” She bites out.

Charlie flinches, like she was no doubt meant to. Meira puts a hand on her arm, and when Charlie’s eyes flick up to meet hers, she says quietly “It doesn’t need to be a secret. You didn’t do anything wrong. But you don’t owe her anything, either.”

Charlie nods once, takes a shaking breath, and says “Did you know that Mark threatened to kill himself if I broke up with him?” in a surprisingly even tone, even though her eyes have gone glassy with unshed tears. “I broke up with him anyway.”

Donna is silent for a very, very long time. “Wow, what a dick.” She says finally, and Charlie laughs like it’s been startled out of her. She sniffs once and wipes at her eyes. There’s another, shorter silence. “I suppose you think this means that Lily is to blame for our dad’s death, then, huh?” She asks, bitterly angry and scared underneath.

“Oh my god, Donna, no. Lily was playing a stupid game with her friends, she didn’t know it was dangerous.” There’s a pause, and then Charlie adds, viciously, “You did. I told you it was dangerous, and you did it anyway, even though you knew it wasn’t just your own life on the line.”

Another silence. “What do you want me to say?” Donna asks resentfully.

“That you’re sorry?!” Charlie bursts out. “That you won’t do it again?! That you understand that, oh my god, even if you still don’t believe me, I believe it, and it’s a shitty thing to do to scare me just to, what? I don’t even know. And that if I tell you ‘hey, maybe don’t do that, it’s dangerous’ again, next time, you’ll listen?!”

“Yeah. Okay.” Donna says quietly.

Charlie waits. Donna doesn’t say anything else. “Well?!” Charlie snaps.

“Oh my god, I’m sorry, okay?!” Donna snaps back.

Meira wonders if maybe now would be a good opportunity to test out manifesting her wings. Perhaps a little solid proof would go a long way to improving Donna’s attitude. She’s still debating whether it’s a good idea or not when Charlie sighs. “Yeah, okay.” She says tiredly. “See you Monday, Donna.”

“Yeah, see you.” Donna agrees, and then Charlie hangs up on her. She stands there, staring at her phone for several minutes, looking torn and upset.

“I could probably show her proof, if you want.” Meira offers.

Charlie visibly thinks about it, but then shakes her head. “No. I don’t know. She’s made it pretty clear she doesn’t want to know, hasn’t she?”

Meira tips her head in acknowledgement of that, and then lets the subject drop. “Come on, Buffy, we’ve got rugs to buy.” She says instead, and Charlie snorts at the nickname, but she looks pleased, too, and Meira takes that as a win.