1.4 Bloody Mary: A Supernatural Fan Fiction

Chapter II: Bloody Mary

"It might not be one of ours," Sam was saying as they headed back up the stairs towards the front door of the hospital. He glanced at Dean as he said it, but he meant for Jay to hear too. "Might just be some freak medical thing."

"How many times in Dad's long and varied career has it actually been a freak medical thing? And not some sign of an awful supernatural death?" Dean asked in response, giving his brother a somewhat dubious look.

"Uh, almost never." Sam sighed reluctantly in agreement.

"Exactly." Dean said, shooting a glance at his brother before concentrating on the stairs.

"All right," Jay spoke up. "Let's go talk to the daughter."

Quickly locating the Shoemaker's address, Jay led the way over to the house, were the memorial was taking place. They passed under the threshold of the open front door, noticing immediately the photograph of Steven Shoemaker set on table surrounded by cards and flowers. Jay coughed out a grim laugh.

"It's strange to see him with his eyes," she breathed to Dean. She would have shared the sentiment with Sam, but it had looked like he was very disturbed by the corpse. It made sense, though – he hadn't seen one in a while.

Dean peered around the room, noting the dresses and suits, mostly black, that definitely contrasted with the amount of light flannel the boys were wearing. He chewed the inside of his lip.

"Feel like we're underdressed," he commented to Sam, glancing around when he noticed an older couple staring at them. He looked over to Jay. She was shrugging out of her flannel shirt, revealing the long-sleeved black dress underneath.

"Damn you," Dean said quietly to her, and she just flashed him her crooked smile. They went further into the house, in search of the daughter. Jay had taken the liberty to look her up so that she knew who to interview, and was guessing there'd be a crowd of consolers flocking around her.

Before she was able to tell Dean this, he was asking an elderly man where she was. He directed them outside, pointing at a group of four teenage girls sitting relatively alone.

"Which one's her?" Dean hissed to Jay as they approached them.

"The dark-haired one." She replied quietly, nodding towards the girl. Her face was downcast, and she looked exhausted. Jay knew the feeling.

One of the girls beside Donna looked up when the boys appeared beside her, and her lips parted as a tiny, coy smile appeared on her face. Jay would never have admitted it, but she felt the tiniest twinge of protectiveness.

"You must be Donna, right?" Dean asked as they approached, his voice gentle and soft.

"Yeah," was all she said. She looked up at them with mistrust in her eyes and in her expression, and Sam could see how incredibly tired she was of people coming up and asking her questions and offering their condolences. Dean looked at him, as if willing him to speak.

"Hi, uh, we're really sorry." He said, but the words came out sounding awkward and ingenuine. She had no idea who they were. Who were they to express their sorrow to her?

"Thank you," she said anyway, sounding as if she'd said it a million times, as if the words had no more meaning for her.

"I'm Sam," he introduced, then glanced over at Jay and his brother. "This is Jay, and Dean. We worked with your Dad."

Donna looked to her friend, her expression automatically disbelieving. Dean didn't notice.

"Yeah," he said, his eyebrows pulling together. "This whole thing... I mean, a stroke..."