Supernatural... But Better (Vol. I)

Chapter Six

"Everyone ready?"

I looked at Dean, and we both nodded. "Ready."

Sam took a deep breath. "Alright. Bloody Mary, Bloody Mary... Bloody Mary."

He had taken the lead — both literally and figuratively, as he was standing closest to the mirror. Dean was just off his shoulder, and I was a little ways back, standing by the table I'd put the holy water on. A crowbar was clutched in each of our hands, and we waited for something to happen.

"Remember, smash anything that moves," Dean reminded his brother, who nodded.

I was unnerved by the freaky silence that came over the room. Looking around instinctively, my gaze caught on the back of Sam's head. I'd only known him for a few days, but I could already feel myself beginning to trust him more and more. It was weird, as someone who had found it difficult to truly trust anyone, to be able to do that. But it also made sense, sorta. He already knew all about my secret life, so I didn't have to hide anything from him. Besides, he was nice. Dean, on the other hand, was a nightmare, and I wouldn't trust him as far as I could throw him.

Shaking my head as if to expel my distracting thoughts, my gaze returned to the mirror.

I recoiled at what I saw. Bloody Mary, staring back at me— well, not really, because her eyes were covered by her hair, but she was there, and she was appearing in front of me, not Sam, like we planned.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I forced my breathing to remain normal. If I kept my eyes closed, she wouldn't be able to get me, right? Maybe? That's how I was always taught, but was that the myth or the real ghost? Would it actually help or not? If it did, then the ghost would turn on Sam—

A thought gave me pause. She was in the mirror. Whether it was me or Sam, that was the goal, right? Get her in the mirror, then smash it.

I opened my eyes, preparing to do just that, but then I froze.

My reflection was normal again. Just me, with my perfectly visible eyes not hidden by ragged, torn, dark hair. The same face I was used to seeing in the mirror.

But, then, it smiled. "It's your fault. You killed them. Your family."

My eyes widened, and the reflection's did as well, but it was because there was blood dripping down its cheeks. I reached up to my own, wiping my fingers across, and they came away red.

"Your mother... your father... your brother... your sister... all your fault," the deranged reflection continued, smiling like a maniac. "You could've saved them, you know. If you'd only cared enough."

Remembering myself, I tried to move forward, to smash the mirror, but I couldn't move. I couldn't speak, either, to tell Sam and Dean what was happening. Slowly, I felt my throat close up of its own accord, cutting off my airway and preventing me from breathing, either.

"Their deaths are on your hands. Your bloody, bloody hands. You wanted them dead, didn't you? You wanted to be rid of them! Well, you certainly got what you wanted. And now, so will I!"

Slowly, the strength left my body as I tried, in vain, to fight her off. My arms and legs gave out at the same time, the crowbar clattering to the floor as I dropped to my knees. Out of the corner of my bleeding eyes, I saw the brothers turn to look at me, immediately freaking out as they realized my situation. Sam ran to me, saying something I couldn't hear. Dean took one look in the mirror, brought his crowbar up, and slammed it down hard into the glass.

Immediately, my throat opened, and I took a deep breath, falling onto my hands as I tried to refill my lungs with the oxygen they'd been deprived of. I ended up on the ground on my back, trying to regulate my breathing.

"Are you alright?" Sam asked, his extremely concerned face entering my field of view, hair falling in his face.

Feeling a bit more at ease, and my strength returning bit by bit, I brought a hand up to wipe the blood away from my face. "I— I think so." Looking over at Dean, I nodded. "Thanks."

His eyebrows furrowed, and he looked about to ask me something, but then a hand grasped the empty mirror frame.

Gulping, I pointed to it. "Holy water."

Immediately, Sam grabbed the tankard, reaching inside to cup a handful of water and throw it at the form of Bloody Mary, who was rapidly exiting her mirror's frame. Immediately as it touched her skin, it began to burn, sizzling and bubbling as currents of steam rose up.

Growling, she readied herself to pounce on him, but like acid, the liquid had burned straight through her, leaving her unable to move. He flung another handful, which finished off the job, dissolving her into a pile of icky goop on my floor.

"Good call," he breathed, a bit out of breath himself.

I nodded. "Good reflexes."

Dean sighed loudly. "Am I the only one wondering what horrible thing Evelyn must have done in her life in order for that thing to choose her over you?"

I blanched at his question, resolving not to answer it.

He continued. "In fact, I still want to know what you could have done that was so horrible. I mean, come on. Unless you were lying about it, in which case it does make sense, actually. But you wouldn't lie to your dear older brother, would you?"

Sam looked at me as well. "No, I wasn't lying, you're right. Why did Bloody Mary choose you?"

I took a deep breath, raising my finger into the air. "Okay, no, I'm not going to tell you because first, I don't like you," I said, pointing to Dean, "and I don't know either of you well enough to share any of my secrets with you, let alone that one. Especially not since I almost died and I'm covered in my own blood."

"Right," Sam said, standing and extending a hand to me. Bracing my feet flat on the ground, I took it, allowing him to pull me up. However, my legs were still pretty weak, so instead of getting to my feet, I stumbled forward into his chest.

He caught me, holding me steady. "Are you alright?"

I nodded, rather embarrassed, but also lightheaded. "Yeah, I— I'm fine."

"Alright, then. Let's get you cleaned up."

He helped me up to my bedroom, where I sat down on my bed, collecting the last bits of my strength. "Sorry about your, um, girlfriend."

Sam shrugged, putting his hands in his pockets. "We don't have to talk about it."

I nodded, looking away. "Okay."

There was an awkward silence for a few moments, and then he spoke. "If you're alright, then my brother and I'll probably be going. I mean, we can clean up your living room and put the stuff back in your weapons room, but then we should head back to the motel."

Looking up at him, I searched his face— for what, I didn't even know. "Will I see you again?"

Sam paused, thinking about it. "I don't think so. We'll head out tomorrow morning, go on to the next city that needs our help. What— what about you? What will you do?"

I opened my mouth to answer before realizing I didn't have one. "I... I'm not sure. My life's pretty much been uprooted here, what with my closest friends being dead and being pretty much forced back into a life I thought I'd left behind. I don't think I'll stay, but I don't know where I'll go."

"Will you go back to being a huntress?" he asked.

"No, probably not," I answered honestly, fidgeting with my hands. "For as long as I can remember, I've just wanted a normal life. And I finally had one. I can probably find another one, somewhere, somehow."

After a moment of deliberation, Sam reached into his pocket. Grabbing my hand, he uncapped the pen he pulled out, writing something on my palm.

"Well, if you ever need supernatural help, give me a call," he offered with a small, but kind, grin.

I brought my hand closer, reading it. A phone number.

Looking back up at him, I returned his smile. "I will."