The Wayward Woman

Sam shot out of his deep slumber, trembling and practically gasping for air. Nightmares and constant memories of Jessica’s final moments and the horrors of watching her unspeakable death were strangling the life from him. Her soft voice in his dreams still echoed like the firing of a gun.

It woke Riley and she looked at Sam. “Hey, you okay?"

“Yeah...bad dream I guess.” He tried to compose himself.

Dean glanced at Sam. “You’ve been having a lot of those lately.”

“I get ‘em too, Sam.” Riley pulled her hair into a bun and out of her face. “Yet another hazard of the job, I guess.”

She let out a nearly inaudible gasp as a tidal wave of emotions came over her, nearly knocking her back. Riley had no idea what was happening or how she was being consumed by emotions that didn’t even feel like her own. She was engulfed in such profound heartbreak that it felt as though something was tearing into her chest. It took all she had to not break down and sob from the pain.

A tear fell from her eye and Riley quickly wiped it away, hoping Sam and Dean didn’t see. Overwhelmed with emotions she couldn’t understand, she tried to breathe through it, not wanting to draw attention to herself.

“I miss her so much. It's all my fault...”

She had watched Sam’s face and his lips had never moved.

“This can’t be happening,” Riley thought to herself.

These moments had been happening more and more frequently since that day with Deb in the diner. Possibly hearing the thoughts of others and sharing their emotional experiences sounded like something Riley should keep to herself.

“...am I going crazy?”

Dean finally decided to speak up. “Ya know, I was gonna bring that up. You both have got to try to relax.” He had heard Riley cry in her sleep even in the next room more times than he cared to recall. Not wanting to embarrass her though, Dean kept it to himself.

He tried to focus on the road ahead. Dean couldn’t stop constantly worrying about them both, no matter how hard he tried not to, while Sam anxiously chewed on a toothpick from their previous stop.

As they pulled into an old fill-up station on the highway, Baby’s engine purred softly before coming to a stop in front of a gas pump.

“I’ll grab the snacks,” Sam said as he hopped out of the car and headed to the small convenience shop. His hands were in his pockets with his head hung low.

Riley knew where Sam’s head was at. She and Sam had become close in such a short amount of time and had shared countless stories. In their second week, after a few too many beers, Sam opened up to her about Jessica and what had happened that awful night. Even drunk, it seemed as though Sam was breaking all over again when telling Riley exactly how he had lost the love of his life.

Riley laid her arms across the top of the front seat and rested her head on them. “Dean, I’m worried about him.”

Dean sighed while watching his little brother through the store windows. “I know. I just don’t know how to help him, ya know?”

“I don’t think you can.”

Dean turned his head towards her and a look of empathy and understanding was staring back at him. Looking into her eyes was like watching the ocean, tranquil and inviting. His heart ached a little less from that one look alone.

“I know,” Dean nodded, trying to make peace with the fact that he couldn’t fix Sam’s pain.

“You’re a good brother, Dean.”

Disagreeing but not knowing how to respond, Dean simply nodded his head in thought.

“I’ll be right back.” Riley got out and jogged over to the restroom.

Dean never took his eyes off her just as he always did, soaking in every movement she made.

He got out and paid at the pump with a fake credit card under the name ‘Mark Smith’. The mid-December wind held winter in the air as a cool breeze blew against him. Dean shivered briefly and he popped up his jacket collar, nuzzling into it.

As he began to fuel up, Sam came back, a bag of snacks and drinks in hand.

Sam threw the plastic bag on the front seat and leaned up against the car.

Opening his new water, he looked at his brother. Sam’s eyes then followed Dean’s gaze that sat on the bathroom door. “So, what’s going on with you guys?” Sam knew there was no easing into those questions.

“Nothing’s going on,” Dean told him as he tucked his hands into his jacket pockets.

Sam scoffed. “Nothing? C’mon, Dean. You’re so into her it’s sometimes painful to watch,” he chuckled. When Dean didn’t respond, he went on. “So…are you going to do something about it?”

“Do what, exactly?” Dean asked as he turned in his direction, somewhat annoyed. “It’s not as simple as you think it is.”

“Simple? Dean, nothing in our lives is ever simple.”

Dean gave an agreeing look. “True.” He looked over again to where Riley had gone to make sure she wasn’t coming back yet before he spoke. “You were right, Sam. We gotta focus on Yellow-Eyes and finding Dad,” Dean said as he returned the pump and closed the gas tank cover.

“Okay,” Sam conceded. His attention shifted as he saw Riley head towards them. “But for the record, she’s crazy about you too--you both are too obvious,” he added, laughing to himself.

Dean couldn’t help but hope that Sam was right. No matter how much Dean tried to not have feelings for Riley, he seemed to be failing at his attempts to do so every day. Whether by choice or to his dismay, nothing had ever happened between him and Riley. Though, to be fair, neither had even tried to make a move on the other since they had left Lawrence.

Sam patted Dean on the shoulder with a smirk before getting back in the car. Once back in his seat, he sighed. He had never seen Dean bond with someone the way he had been with Riley, or even look at anyone the way he looked at her. The playboy Sam knew was falling for Riley, and hard. Sam could read it on Dean’s face.

Sadness swept back through him again. Something was growing between Dean and Riley and it reminded him of how he and Jess had started. His mind drifted off, willing to give anything to hold her one more time, to tell her how much he loved her.

As the others got back in the car, Sam decided to focus on work to keep himself from slowly losing himself in his grief.

“Alright, so we got a case. Toledo, Ohio. A daughter finds her father dead on the floor of the bathroom, covered in blood that had all drained from his eyes. And get this, they were almost completely liquidated.”

Dean made a face of utter disgust. “Well, that’s lovely. No sign of a struggle?”

“Nope. And no evidence whatsoever. No fingerprints, DNA, witnesses...nothing.”

“Well, it sounds like we’re going to Toledo,” Riley added.

The engine revved and Riley reached over the seat to grab a bag of chips out of the snack bag as they drove out of the station.

------

Riley, Sam, and Dean walked into the Toledo coroner's office. Dean tried to muster up a good excuse for the coroner’s assistant to let them see the body, but after they failed to get by while claiming they were med students, Sam decided to butt in. He handed the guy $100 and the assistant conceded, nodding towards the door for them to follow him in.

“Dude. I earned that money,” Dean barked under his breath.

Sam scoffed, “...at a poker game.”

“Uh...yeah!”

Riley stifled a laugh and patted Dean’s shoulder, somewhat condescendingly. “Aw, I’ll help you earn it back. I mean, let’s be honest, I’m probably better than you at pool anyways.”

He looked down at her and playfully mocked her words.

The room was cold and medical, it reeked of death. No matter how many years on the job, it’s never a smell that doesn’t still shock the senses. A harsh fluorescent light hung above them. Even covered in bright light, the room still sent a chill of unease up their spine.

The assistant examined the labels on the many drawers on the wall and pulled the handle of one out toward him. A metal clunk came from the drawer as it extended out towards them.

All three gathered around the slab as the assistant pulled back the sheet. Mr. Shoemaker’s hollowed-out, melted eyes seemed to almost stare back at them.

The medical assistant read over the coroner’s report. “Uh--Mr. Shoemaker--official cause of death was an aneurysm. Doc thinks it may have been a stroke.”

“Really?” Dean asked in disbelief. “You ever seen a stroke that made somebody’s eyes explode?” He looked down at the body searching for clues.

“We’re gonna need to see the police report.” Riley leaned in as well to get a look for herself, feeding her morbid curiosity.

The assistant shook his head. “I’m not supposed to show you that.”

Riley looked up at him and bat her lashes. “You know,” she said slowly walking towards him, her voice in a sexy coo. “It would mean a lot to me if you could help us out. We have a paper due next week and it’s half our grade. I can’t afford to not pass this class. Could you just show it to us for just a couple minutes? It would mean so much to me. Please?” She placed a hand gently on his arm and he swallowed hard.

“I--I guess it would be okay for just a few minutes.”

“I seriously can’t thank you enough.” Riley smiled as she slid her hand softly down his arm, slowly pulling away.

The assistant walked away with a ridiculous grin, stumbling as he went.

“See boys? Just gotta know how to ask nicely.” Riley winked to add to her saucy response before returning her focus to examining the body.

------

Mr. Shoemaker’s funeral had brought countless people to his home. The Shoemaker house was filled with mourning friends and family. It was warm and inviting even with the sorrow that filled every room. Everyone was dressed in black evening wear as they made sad conversation.

Dean looked to his partners. “I think we’re a little underdressed.”

Walking respectfully through the family room, they found their way to the backyard. Mr. Shoemaker’s teenage daughter was sitting on a wooden bench that rested on the edge of the grass on the stone patio.

She was crying, her friends trying to console her. She had short brown hair that flipped up at the bottom and was in a black dress that stopped at her knees.

As they walked closer, Riley began to feel the emotions and hurt that radiated from the young girl. Again, she tried to ignore whatever was coming over her and attempted to shrug it off.

“Hi, I’m Sam. This is my brother Dean and our friend, Riley. We’re sorry to hear about your dad. We knew him through work.”

“We’re so sorry to bother you,” Riley added. “We heard it was a stroke. Did your dad ever talk about having any symptoms? Headaches or anything like that?”

“No--never. Dad was always really healthy. I just don’t understand.” Mr. Shoemaker’s eldest daughter, Donna, muffled her cries.

She wiped her face with the bundled Kleenex in her hand.

“It was Bloody Mary,” a small voice to the side said. The youngest Shoemaker, Lily, was no more than nine years old. She had long, dark blonde hair that fell over her shoulders, tied half up in a bow. “Before he died, I said ‘Bloody Mary’ three times. It’s my fault--she takes your eyes. That’s what she did to my dad.” Tears welled up in her eyes, matching her sad and reddened face.

The hunters looked at each other curiously.

Dean knelt next to Lily. “Hey. It wasn’t your fault, okay? Bad things just happen sometimes. You can’t blame yourself when you’ve done nothing wrong.”

She looked at him and slowly nodded her head, trying to believe the words of the kind stranger.

Riley watched as Dean consoled the little girl. She could feel his sincerity with Lily. After practically raising Sam himself, Dean was great with kids.

Before he stood, Dean took her hand and cupped it in his, giving her a little smile.

“Thank you for your time. Again, I’m so sorry for your loss.” Sam looked to the others and they walked back into the house.

Sneaking up the stairs, they found the hallway bathroom that had become a grisly crime scene only days before.

Upon opening the door, they saw bloodstains spread all over the floor. Even after a thorough cleaning, the tile grout remained stained by the blood of Mr. Shoemaker. The crimson color reflected the horrors that would forever haunt that small space.

“I don’t get it,” Riley said, walking towards the mirror. “Everyone plays ‘Bloody Mary’. Nothing ever happens. Why now?”

Dean crouched to the floor to get a better look at the blood splatter patterns. “I don’t know. Maybe everywhere else it’s just a story. Maybe here, it’s actually real. The legend may have started here.”

“But it just doesn’t add up.” Sam took a closer look at the mirror, only to find nothing of note, and closed it again. 

“Bloody Mary only goes after the ones that summon her. Legend goes, you say her name three times and she scratches your eyes out.”

“Yeah,” Dean agreed. “Except this time, someone else says it and it’s Shoemaker who takes the hit. Still, the guy did die right in front of the mirror.”  

“Well, looks like it’s time to find proof of the legend. Who’s up for a day of research?” Riley gave Dean a look knowing how much he hated it.

His eyes rolled and his head fell back as he groaned.

------

Back at the motel, everyone was working through anything they could find. There was little to no information on Bloody Mary or her connection to the town.

Sam worked diligently at his laptop as he sifted through endless websites.

Dean sat in a chair propped up against the window, his boots crossed over each other on the chair in front of him.

He was rubbing his temple trying to be patient with what felt like the millionth book he’d read. “Alright, say Bloody Mary really is haunting this town. There's gonna be some sort of proof—like a local woman who died nasty.”

Riley was sitting on the floor, papers and books spread around her as she examined everything through fatigued eyes.

She sighed. “Yeah, but this isn’t just a local legend. I mean, you said it yourself, Bloody Mary is played everywhere and there are countless versions of her origin story; one says she’s actually a witch, one says she was a mutilated bride, others say she’s a demon. There’s just too many to pin down.”

“Alright, so what are we supposed to be looking for?”

“Well,” Sam said, getting the others’ attention. “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. Dean, did you get anything going through the records or newspapers at the library?”

“Oh, you mean besides a whole new fuckin’ level of frustration? No. I've looked at everything. A few local women, a Laura and a Catherine committed suicide in front of a mirror, and a giant mirror fell on a guy named Dave, but, uh--no Mary. Basically? We got bupkis.”

Riley gathered her long hair and pulled it to the side over one shoulder. “Well, I didn’t really find any other strange deaths in the area either, so...maybe whatever this is, just isn’t Mary.”

"Great,” Dean added with a tired groan.

It went quiet again as the three resumed their work until Dean’s thoughts began to wander.

“God, I hate this shit. And how the hell am I supposed to focus with her looking like that?”

Riley looked up, thinking she heard Dean speak.

He quickly went back to his book, pretending he hadn’t been staring.

She smiled discreetly, but knowing that he was thinking about her made that discretion incredibly difficult.

Though Riley was becoming more used to hearing occasional thoughts and feelings, that didn’t mean she was ready to tell Sam or Dean about her secret. She had no idea how they would react, let alone how she would even find the words.

The phone rang and Sam got up from his spot on the bed against the headboard to grab it from the small side table. “Hello?” He listened for a few seconds and his face fell as the conversation went on. “Okay, uh--thanks.”

He ended the call and looked over at Riley and Dean.

“...a girl is dead.”

------

Riley stood in the corner of a cheap motel room. The wallpaper was a terrible green patterned print and the bedding looked worn and uninviting. A wooden pillared wall stood between her and the rest of the room.

"Have I been here before?" she thought.

Footsteps from outside grew closer just outside the door and she turned at the sound.

A man walked in the already ajar door, holding a pack of beer and take-out food.

Putting all the contents he was carrying onto the small table by the door as silently as he could, the man peeked in with trepidation before reaching for the gun tucked into the waistband of his pants.

Riley stepped hesitantly toward him with desperate and almost teary eyes. “...Dad?” her voice broke.

Jackson Munroe. He had dark brown hair that he could run his fingers through and soft blue eyes that were utterly hypnotic. He was tall and broad, his tense muscles snug underneath his shirt beneath his canvas jacket.

His eyes moved to the main room and he froze. There was blood painted across the room, some had even splattered onto the mirror hung over the large wooden dresser and across the wall.

Jackson’s heart sank in his chest. “Riley…?” His voice was soft and almost shaking with fear.

It was then that he saw his daughter’s boots on the floor, jutting out from the other side of the bed.

“Riley?!” he cried out with a heartwrenching gasp.

Riley’s face was empty and pale. Her blue eyes were slightly open and seemed to still be looking back at him. Riley’s throat had been slit nearly clean through, leaving her body barely intact.

Seeing the brutality his daughter had endured nearly caused him to vomit and he covered his mouth with a fist as he tried not to heave. His first desperate reaction was wanting to scoop her into his arms, but he knew her mutilated body would break apart if he did.

Jackson sobbed as he fell to his knees, causing her still warm blood to seep through his jeans. He reached out and pushed the blood-soaked hair out of her face. Even in death, she was beautiful.

“Oh, honey. No. Baby girl, no. Come back to me.” He grasped at her hand and leaned into her touch. “Don’t leave me, Riley!”

Jackson’s scream-like sobs filled the room. The sound of his pain was so real, it sounded as though he was dying alongside her.

“Dad!”

Riley shot up out of bed wide awake. Tears were running down her face, sweat covering her back.

She was in her motel room. It was silent and the light from the parking lot only illuminated a small portion of the room.

Riley grabbed her throat and looked down to check her hands for blood.

It was always the same dream and it had been happening ever since she had lost Jackson. No dream had ever been more vivid or real and she feared sleep for that very reason. The monsters in her waking moments never brought her the terror and pain she felt from her father in that dream.

Dean came in from the adjoining room, concern written all over his face. “Hey, you okay?”

She wiped the tears from her face before turning to him and cleared her throat. “Yeah. Damn nightmare again.”

“Okay, well...I’m, uh--I’m right next door if you need anything.” He lingered while turning to leave, wanting to make sure she was alright.

“Dean?”

“Yeah?” he asked, turning back toward her in the doorway.

“Thanks.”

Dean offered her a gentle, tight-lipped smile in response as he returned to his room and closed the door behind him.

Riley sat up against the headboard and sighed. “Get it together,” she muttered to herself.

She thought over all of the secrets she’d been keeping. Riley felt torn between needing to hide the truth while also trying to make peace with all that Jackson had kept from her. Now, she was just as guilty as he was.

Debbie was right, hunters always have their secrets.

Knowing that she wouldn’t be able to fall asleep after her horrific dream, Riley threw on her jacket before leaving the motel room. She went out into the parking lot and leaned against the Impala’s hood.

Riley looked up at the open sky and took a deep breath as she tried to soak in the fresh, brisk air. As she exhaled, her warm breath fogged in front of her face.

“I’m trying, Dad,” she said into the darkness. Her voice broke as her eyes welled with tears. “I’m trying…”

From one of the motel windows, Dean watched her with a heavy expression. He turned to see Sam practically whimpering in his stress-induced sleep.

Dean had felt responsible for Sam since they were little kids. He believed it was his duty, and his alone, to protect him. Still, Dean knew, he could never take away what Sam had been through.

Now, only a couple of months in, he felt it was his job to keep Riley safe too. The whole world always fell on his shoulders and that fact was something he had accepted 22 years ago as a 4-year-old little boy.

No one else could take care of Sam or Riley or keep them from harm, but Dean would.

------

The next morning, the team went to the house of the newly murdered girl, a teen named Jill. It was a quiet house on a ‘cookie cutter street’. With the funeral happening across town, no one would be home.

One at a time, they gently climbed the trellis against the house with vines growing around it.

Dean was the first onto the roof and pulled open the window on the second floor. He crawled into the dead teen’s bedroom, the other two following after him.

The room looked like any other teenage girl’s. There were posters of boy bands and pictures of Jill and her friends littered across the wall. She had strung lights around the ceiling of the room that softly twinkled.

Dean put their equipment down on the soft, white bed next to the lace pillow covers. He pulled out an EMF detector and went to work, though it was quickly clear it wasn’t finding anything.

Sam grabbed a video camera and switched it to night vision mode while facing Dean.

Dean made a ridiculous seductive expression as he looked over his shoulder. 

Shaking his head, Sam walked into the bathroom.

Riley found nothing out of place as she searched. There was no sign of a struggle.

She picked up a picture from the desk of the girl and her family. Then, like a sudden bolt of lightning, heartbreak struck her in the chest. Riley felt as though she was mourning someone she loved. It was inflicting more pain with every passing second.

Quickly putting the frame back where she found it in hopes of ending whatever odd connection was occurring, Riley went back to studying the room.

“Alright, Mary. How are you choosing your victims?” Sam closed in on the bathroom mirror with the camera. Through the night vision, he could see something dripping out from under the mirror. He put down the camera, grabbed the mirror off the hook on the wall, and brought it to the bed.

Flipping it over and tearing the back cover of the mirror open, Sam asked Dean to hand him the black light from the bag. Names glowed bright enough to read as he ran the light over the ripped backing. Right beside the names was an eerie handprint.

“Gary Bryman and Linda Shoemaker.”

“Wait, Linda Shoemaker? That’s the dead guy’s wife. But I read her obit--she died a while ago.” Riley ran her hand over the names and felt immense fear and darkness consuming her. A horrific, angry, scream echoed in her mind and she instantly yanked away from it, not wanting to feel it a second more.

The brothers watched her jump for no clear reason and gave her a confused look.

“What?” she asked, trying to play it off, before going back into the room to avoid discussing it any further.

------

“Well,” Riley started as she stared at the computer screen, “Gary Bryman was an 8-year-old boy. He died a year ago from a hit-and-run and the driver was never found. But the description of the car matched the one that the dead teenager drove.” She turned to Sam and Dean. “Coincidence? Pfft. Not in this line of work.”

“So, Jill kills a kid, ends up dead herself.” Dean mindlessly cleaned his gun while working through his thoughts out loud. “Okay, so what if Mr. Shoemaker was responsible for his wife’s death? What if it wasn’t an overdose? What if she was poisoned?”

Sam had a realization. “Well, it’s said that mirrors can reflect your soul. They show your secrets and lies--hence, why it’s back luck to break them. What if Mary is punishing those whose secrets revolve around a death?”

The three looked at each other knowing they were on to something.

“Looks like we might finally have something to go on,” Dean added as motioned for Riley to let him use the computer.

Once she handed it over to him, she stood and stretched. “Well, on that note, I’m gonna hit the shower. Though, I can’t promise there will be any hot water left for either of you when I’m done.”

The door closed and a few seconds later, the shower was on.

Knowing that she couldn’t hear them, Dean turned to Sam. “Sammy, I’m worried about you--about you and Riley.”

“I’m fine, Dean,” Sam told him.

“Bullshit.” His voice was calm but firm. “You think I don’t know when you’re going through it?” Dean sighed. “Look, I know you miss Jessica…”

Unable to let the conversation go on, Sam interrupted, “Dean, just…please. I can’t, okay?” Wanting to do anything he could to escape the topic, Sam looked over to see the laptop screen while Dean scrolled. “Wait, wait, wait, you're doing a nationwide search for Mary?”

“Yep. The NCIC, the FBI database--at this point, any Mary who died in front of a mirror is good enough for me.”

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

“Well, we’ve checked every local source possible and I got diddly squat. So, unless you got a better idea--”

“I think we’re onto something with the mirror lore. I just can’t quite place it. I mean, there seems to be a pattern, right? Mr. Shoemaker and Jill’s hit-and-run made good targets because they had secrets where people died, and then Mary came to punish them for it. ...whether they were the one who summoned her or not.”

“Hold on.” Dean stopped scrolling and pointed to an image. “Take a look at this.” The picture was a crime scene photo of a young woman lying dead in front of a mirror, drenched in a puddle of blood. On the glass of the mirror was a clear impression of a hand. “Look familiar?”

“The handprint.”

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

The door to the bathroom opened and Riley peeked out from behind it, her hair still soaked. “Alright, which one of you jerks took the last towel?”

------

Later that night, Sam refused to sleep as his mind raced with haunting memories.

Dean was awake as well, his hands cradling the back of his head as he stared at the ceiling. He suddenly heard a soft melody begin to come from the connecting room and looked over to Sam who either didn't notice or didn't care. Sam looked broken, swallowed by his shame.

Throwing the blankets off and moving his legs over the side of the bed, Dean stood to walk towards the sound. The door was cracked open as he peered in. He pushed it further as the dim light from the room spread over his face.

Riley was sitting faced away from him on her bed, crossed-legged as always. Her guitar rested on her knee, the neck of it was in her left hand. She was in a hoodie with her long hair falling over her back.

She strummed to a beautiful acoustic rendition of Lynyrd Skynyrd’s ‘Simple Man’, as she sang along to it in perfect harmony.

Dean was in a trance. He usually hated covers of his favorite bands but hung on her every note and pick of the guitar. It was gentle and soothing as he melted into the tune. A feeling of calm came over him and he took a clean breath.

Somehow, Dean felt as though Riley always seemed to look even more stunning than the day before.

“She’s perfect.”

Riley stopped and turned to face Dean after hearing his thoughts. It had become something that no longer surprised her the way it had before.  

Dean immediately froze in embarrassment thinking he had made a noise to give himself away.

She smiled at him and patted the spot on the bed next to her.

As Dean sat down, Sam’s snores could lightly be heard from the other room. They quietly laughed and Dean shook his head.

“So, you were spying on me, huh?” Riley asked with a brow raised, trying to mess with him.

“Oh, you didn’t know by now? I’m a total creep.”

She let out a breathy laugh. “Should have known.”

“Not gonna lie, that cover was awesome, Riley. You did Skynyrd proud.”

She blushed. “Nah, still a work in progress.”

“You know, you don’t give yourself enough credit. I’m starting to wonder if there’s anything you can’t do.”

Riley turned and stood the guitar on the base of its body, leaning it against the side table. “Sorry if I woke you up.”

“Nah...I was already awake.” Dean took his time going to sit beside her. From the day they met, she never ceased to make his heart race.

There was always a noticeable tension when they were alone together, though neither spoke of it. It wasn’t an uncomfortable feeling, just a reminder that Riley and Dean felt something for each other that neither knew how to explain.

Dean cleared his throat as if anxiously trying to break the silence. "So..." he started.

"So..." she echoed.

"Do you ever sleep?"

She chuckled softly. "From time to time."

Moving her hair off her shoulder and onto her back with a gentle touch, he said, "wouldn't hurt to try and get some rest."

Riley tried to hide the gulp that she felt in her throat. Every time Dean touched her, she felt herself on fire.

"If only she knew what she did to me..." he thought.

She turned to him in response with a small smirk.

"What?" Dean asked.

"Nothing." Riley wanted to tell Dean how she felt about him, about the secrets she had been carrying. But as she looked at him, her smile faded as fear grew inside her, not knowing how Dean would react if he knew all she was going through. Riley believed that the truth would ruin everything and she would lose Sam and Dean.

"You know," Dean started. "I can't help you if you don't tell me what's going on."

"You can't help me..." she thought to herself. Riley forced a small smile. "I'm okay. I'm just exhausted. Maybe you're right, maybe I should try to get some sleep."

Dean knew she was keeping something from him but wouldn't push it.

The two stood up from the bed side by side and let out tired sighs. They looked at each other briefly before they both came together for a gentle embrace.

Riley closed her eyes and inhaled the smell of leather and mint gum. It soothed her, grounding her back into reality.

Not wanting to let her go, but not wanting to get too close, Dean kissed the top of her head. "Get some sleep," he told her.

It felt as though their hands lingered on each other as he turned to head for the door.

"Goodnight, Dean."

"G'night, sweetheart." Dean then closed the door behind him and reluctantly returned to his bed.

------

Inside the police station of Fort Wayne, Sam, Dean, and Riley were able to get the Sergeant to speak with them. They inquired about Mary Worthington and the Sheriff was taken aback.

"Mary Worthington. Yeah, that was a rough one. I still lose sleep knowing we never got the guy. Poor woman’s eyes had been cut out, almost surgically. I always thought it was a guy named Trevor Sampson--a doctor. She was having an affair with him and was going to reveal their secret to his wife. I think he killed her to stop that from happening. But, uh--he’s dead now.”

“Where is Mary buried, Sergeant?” Riley asked.

“She wasn’t. She was cremated.”

Sam stepped towards the desk. “What about the mirror? Was that possibly kept for evidence or something?”

“No. It was returned to Mary's family a long time ago.”

“Do you happen to have the names of her family by chance?”

------

Back on the road as they headed back to Toledo, Baby drove the hunters through the dark night. Rain was falling in buckets and pounded on the Impala’s roof. The sound of splashing water tapped loudly on the windows.

Sam was on the phone hoping for some new information while Riley and Dean waited quietly.

“Oh, really? Ah, that's too bad Mr. Worthington,” he told the person on the other line. “I would have paid a lot for that mirror. Okay, well maybe next time. Alright, thanks.” As Sam hung up, he turned to the others. “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.”

Riley nodded through her thoughts. “So, basically, wherever the mirror goes, Mary is its constant hitchhiker.”

“Her spirit's definitely tied up with it somehow.”

“Isn't there an old superstition that says mirrors can capture spirits?” Dean asked, his eyes still on the road.

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

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

“Okay, I’m with you so far,” Riley interjected. “But she’s moving through random mirrors at this point. How?”

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

Fiddling with the phone in his hand, Sam finally said what was on his mind. “You know, I've been thinking. It might not be enough to just smash that mirror.”

“Why, what do you mean?”

“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.”

“Okay, so who’s gonna summon her?” Riley asked as she leaned onto the front seat from behind the brothers.

“I will,” Sam said plainly. “She'll come after me.”

“You know what, that's it.” Fed up with his brother’s way of thinking, Dean pulled the car over with a screech. He killed the engine and turned to Sam with a frustrated look on his face. 

“This is about Jessica, isn't it? You think that's your dirty little secret--that you killed her somehow?” 

Sam remained quiet, his eyes never looking back at Dean while Riley sat back again to give them space.

“Sam, this has got to stop, man. I mean, the nightmares and calling her name out in the middle of the night--it's gonna fucking kill you. Now, listen to me, it wasn't your fault. If you wanna blame something, then blame the fucker 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.”

“I don't blame you.”

“Well, you shouldn't blame yourself, because there's nothing you could've done.”

“I could've warned her.”

“About what?” Dean asked, desperately trying to get through to Sam. “You didn't know what was gonna happen! And besides, all of this isn't a secret. I mean, Riley and I know all about it. It's not gonna work with Mary anyway.”

The car fell silent before Sam uttered, “no...you don't.”

“Don't what?”

Riley couldn’t help herself as she chimed back in with a soft-spoken voice. “Sam...is there more we don’t know?”

Finally lifting his gaze, Sam turned to his partners with a pained expression. “Well, it wouldn't really be a secret if I told you, would it?”

Dean shook his head adamantly. “No. I don't like it. It's not gonna happen, forget it.”

“Dean, people are 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.” Heartfelt and full of certainty, Sam told him, “you've got to let me do this.”

Both Riley and Dean looked at each other, fearing the worst.

------

It was close to midnight. All the shops had already closed and the streets were empty. The rain had calmed and left a soft drizzle in the wintery air.

Parking the Impala a block or so away, in a nearby alley, Riley, Sam, and Dean snuck up to the antique store.

The street lights were dim and it seemed as though the bulbs were on their last legs. Dean took a moment to appreciate the city’s lack of care to fix things, as it worked in their favor.

Riley put her cupped hands to the glass of the antique shop in an attempt to see inside, her black hoodie under her jacket caved over her face. It was too dark in the shop to see much of anything.

Sam knelt at the door and picked the lock while Dean kept a lookout. The door opened and they went inside, making sure to be quiet when shutting the door behind them.

The three hunters turned on their flashlights and looked around the shop.

The entire place was covered in countless mirrors; their search was not going to be an easy one.

“Well...that's just great,” said Dean in sarcasm as he looked around.

They studied the printed picture of the mirror from Mary’s crime scene photos. It was large, surrounded by a flourished frame in a darkened and faded brassy color.

They all split up to cover more ground. Dean stayed at the front of the shop, Riley went to the back, and Sam ventured into the storage area.

As Sam walked into the darkness, he pushed a hanging plastic barrier out of his way. He shined his flashlight to check each mirror, waiting for a flicker of movement. The light bounced back and forth as it danced in the reflections of the many mirrors. He had almost given up on finding it, when finally, Sam turned and saw Mary’s mirror. An unsettling feeling radiated from it and Sam knew.

“I found it!”

Lights from a patrol car shined into the shop and Dean stopped to look outside.

Riley hurried back to the front after hearing the approaching car as well. “Cops.”

“Yeah. Shit. We must have tripped the alarm coming in. I’ll go handle it.” Dean told Riley before he turned off his light and walked towards the entrance.

Opening the door, Dean stepped out to see a law enforcement officer get out of his car. “Hello, officer. Sorry, I’m the owner’s son. I came in to do some late work and I must have tripped the alarm.”

“You’re Mr. Yamashiro’s kid?” the officer asked accusingly.

Not knowing how he was going to get out of the situation, Dean gave a look of ‘I’m sorry, what?’

Realizing he was being played, the cop put one hand on the cuffs that sat on his belt. “Alright, you’re gonna have to come with me.” He then went to take Dean’s wrist.

“Man, I didn’t wanna have to do this.” Dean turned and punched the man square in the face, sending him to the concrete, unconscious. He shook his fist lightly, recovering from the impact. “Sorry, buddy."

Back inside, Riley saw Sam staring into the mirror and slowly made her way to his side. He took a deep breath, looked into his reflection, and spoke. “Bloody Mary...Bloody Mary…” He hesitated. “Bloody Mary.”

Ready with crowbars in their hands, the two waited for Mary to appear.

“I don’t like this, Sam. Swing at anything that moves.”

They were both on edge, their hearts racing. Sam stared down at the mirror and Riley scanned over them all. She could feel the rage that reached out from the original mirror. It scared her in a way she’d never experienced before. The energy was strong and ran through her like a current. The spirit was twisted and evil after her incredible suffering; it made Riley sick to her stomach.

Eerie whispers swirled around them in the darkness, bringing the two into a state of fight or flight. The surrounding mirrors had their eyes on the hunters, with Bloody Mary watching from behind the glass.

That blood-curdling scream Riley had heard in the teenager’s room rang again in her head. The wrath in that shriek made her tremble. “Sam,” Riley said with worry. “Sam, she’s here.”

Suddenly, Sam’s reflection changed. It was him, but it wasn’t. A maniacal grin grew on the reflection’s face and a voice that only Sam could hear slithered out at him.

“It’s all your fault. You killed Jessica. You’re why she’s dead.”

Sam watched the reflection as it spoke to him, breaking his heart with every word.

Riley could feel his pain and she clutched at her chest.

“You had dreams of it happening for days before her death. You said nothing. You killed her.”

“I know. It’s my fault," he thought. Sam’s eyes began to drip with blood and dark veins were protruding from his face. It felt as though his insides were being slashed apart. He fell to his knees groaning in agony. “I deserve this.”

“Sam, no!” Riley rushed to the different mirrors where Mary’s haunting reflection bounced across the room. She smashed every one of them with all her might.

The spirit finally appeared in the original mirror and Riley ran to break it, sending shards of glass everywhere. She covered her face and when the glass fell, Riley ran to Sam’s side as Dean rushed back in.

“Sammy! Are you okay?” Dean slid into his little brother, his eyes scanning him for more injuries.

“It’s Sam,” he said, correcting his brother’s nickname for him with a faint voice.

As Riley and Dean helped to pull him up off the ground, a snarling sound came from in front of them. Riley picked up her flashlight and aimed it at the broken mirror just as a dead hand darted out from the frame.

Slowly, something began to crawl out of the broken mirror. Its skin looked putrid and decayed and its hair was long and black, draped over her face. She was twitching violently with every move and began to crawl towards them, her tattered and dirty white nightgown dragging with her. The creature moved faster and faster in their direction as her anger grew.

Blood began to drip from all three of the hunters’ eyes and pain beyond words strangled them from the inside. They fell to the floor groaning and straining with weak, muffled cries.

The evil creature stopped in front of them as she waited to watch them die.

With what little strength he had left, Dean grabbed the mirror beside him and raised it above him to face Mary.

As she saw her reflection staring back at her, she instantly stood up and her body calmed. Her hair split from her face, revealing a sad and broken woman.

The spirit looked at herself and a voice echoed. “It’s your fault. You killed them all.”

Mary’s eyes began to bleed and it seemed as though she was slowly melting away. As fast as the shift started, she abruptly broke into countless tiny pieces of glass that scattered on the floor.

With what strength he had left, Dean threw the mirror to the ground where Bloody Mary had finally met her end. And as the mirror shattered, shards landed among what remained of the once-tormented spirit.

Sam, Dean, and Riley huddled together waiting to make sure that the nightmare was over. Their heads were pounding, their chests heaving, and streams of blood covered their cheeks, dripping down their necks.

When the room remained still, Dean looked around at the broken mirrors and the glass that had sprinkled all around them.

“Hey guys...” he paused.

“Yeah?” Sam asked, panting.

------

Back in the car as they drove out of town, Dean couldn’t help but remember Sam’s comment. He had secrets about what had happened with Jess. The thought was still toying with his head.

“Hey, Sam?”

“Yeah?”

“Now that this is all over, I want you to tell us what that secret was.”

Riley listened with intent waiting for his reply.

“Look, you’re my family, and I’d die for you, but there’s some things I need to keep to myself.”

They both tried to accept his answer and let it go for the time being.

Riley had a moment where she felt Sam’s emotions heighten again, leaving only a deafening emptiness.

Sam flinched as he thought he saw Jess standing on the corner of the road in a floor-length, white nightgown as her long blonde hair blew in the breeze. He was wishing and aching for it to be a reality, still knowing that he had to remind himself that it was only wishful thinking. 

Sam took a shaky breath as he realized it was time to accept that Jessica was gone.

Riley tried to disconnect herself from Sam, not wanting to intrude on his grief. Guilt for not telling the boys about her own secrets was killing Riley. She just needed more time. Until Riley knew what was happening to her, she didn’t want to worry them.

Riley already loved Sam and Dean. They were her partners and she was so proud to be a part of their family. Sam was beginning to feel like the brother she never had. She wanted to protect him and find a way to ease his broken heart. Knowing the pain he was in kept her up at night but feeling the pain he was in kept her from any semblance of peace.

Her thoughts then fell on Dean. Riley looked over at him and he quickly peered over to her while trying to pay attention to the road.

Riley's stomach swarmed with butterflies. No matter how much time they spent together, just looking at Dean continued to give her the same rush as it had that first day in Lawrence. There was no denying that she had feelings for him. She ached and hoped for the day that the feelings could be more than simply unspoken words.

Lost in her thoughts for a minute, she was quickly snapped away as she heard Dean's.

“How does she do this to me? I've never wanted someone the way I want her."

Dean was filled with anticipatory anxiety and Riley could feel it all. Riley’s stomach somersaulted and she could feel his affection seeping into her skin.

Riley bit her lip as a smile grew on her face. Although the two kept their feelings to themselves for the time being, there was no denying that something felt destined to be.

After losing Jackson, Riley felt as though she had lost her way, that she would wander the world alone until the hunt finally took her from this life. But Sam and Dean had changed everything. They had become her compass, her partners, and her family.

As she tried to hide her smirk, watching Dean drive them down the highway, Riley knew she was right where she was supposed to be. Whatever had brought them together didn't matter. They had given her purpose again and Riley knew she would follow Dean and Sam anywhere.

------

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