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xxisxxisxxis · 5 years ago

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Gateway Drug | Part Fifty-Two

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Word Count: 3.2k

Warning(s): explicit language, drug abuse, violence, sexual situations

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"Ah!" I squeal with a small giggle laced through it, Nikki's lips pressing to my shoulder while he pulls out of me and his cum spills on the inside of my thighs that are wide open.

My leg's hooked over his hip as he lays behind me with his arm snaking around my waist, between my breasts, while his hand has a solid hold on my throat.

When he's done, he's pressing one last kiss to my cheek before rolling over on his back, reaching for something on his night table.

I shift to my back, staring up at the mirrored ceiling to see him holding something out to me.

I turn my head to look at him just as he's taking my hand and sliding my wedding ring back on, pressing a little kiss to my hand before grabbing at my jaw assertively, kissing me.

"Apology accepted." I say once he pulls away.

"Yeah, ditto." He chuckles, kissing me one last time before I'm giving out a content sigh and sitting up to go shower.

Once I get out, I dry off and wrap myself in a towel, brushing through my wet hair with my fingers as I step into our bedroom to get some lotion on and get dressed.

"Wait, wait." Nikki stops me as I squeeze lotion onto my hand and I look up at him and raise my brows, seeing him grab his camera from the drawer in the nightstand. "Okay, drop the towel and oil up nice: I'm gonna need something to keep me company while I'm in the studio for countless hours the next several weeks."

I roll my eyes and hold back a smile, throwing my towel at him and it hits him in the face.

"Woo!" He cheers, tossing the towel away and I cover my chest just as the flash goes off and I shake my head a little, ignoring him collecting the dispensed Polaroid as I start putting my moisturizer on.

When I'm finished, I'm pulling on sweat pants and hooking my bra, about to pull a tank top on.

"Hey, Viv?" Nikki asks me.

"Yeah, babe?"

"Is the Lord's prayer important?"

I furrow my brows, finding it odd that's he's asking.

"Well, it's the template Jesus gave Christians to use when praying so yes, it's very important." I reply and he nods a little.

"So...like...what is the prayer, exactly?"

I drop the tank-top in my hands, my eyes widen, and I look at him like he's lost his mind.

"Okay, who are you and what have you done with Nikki Sixx?"

"Ha, ha." He sarcastically lets out.

"No, seriously, either you're a clone, had a bad dose of drugs, or your body is officially done with and dying and God's jabbing at you to throw one last 'hail Mary' attempt at salvation before you croak."

"No, I just wanna know what I need to say when I pray to you." He replies with a smirk and I pretend to nearly trip and fall on the floor as if it's slippery.

"Woah, woah, woah, you gotta give me a warning before you say something so slick." I tell him, grinning and he pulls me onto him, laughing. "And to answer your question, it's 'Our Father which art in heaven, Hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done in earth, as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread. And forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil: For thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, for ever. Amen'." I finish, deciding he wasn't even listening, but I have a weird feeling he's taking notes. "Seriously, though, why're you asking?" I add, my fingers fiddling with the various necklaces hanging around his neck.

A devious, childish, sneaky little tug of his lips his highlighting the "up to no good" look in his hazel eyes as his pointer finger traces the crucifix around my neck before meeting my gaze.

"Just curious."

Just a dumbass.

I finish dressing before stepping out to check the mail.

When I come back, I realize there's a handwritten note pinned to the door.

It's signed by our accountant and I roll my jaw.

It was $2,500.00 last May, which means he's been going through $5,000.00 a day.

"Uh, Nikki?!" I call coming into the house with the mail and the letter, going to our bedroom where he's plucking at his bass, waving the letter.

"Yeah?" He asks.

"Sixx 1 & 2,

Sixx 1 is still spending exponential amounts of money on heroin a day. I left a warning last May, and said Nikki will either be dead or the two of you will be completely broke by May this year. That still stands because the amount being spent has doubled since then. Slow down." I read it off. "Nikki, it was $2,500.00 last time so he's saying you're currently spending $5,000.00 a day on smack?!" I raise my voice. "How the hell can someone possibly do that much heroin--or any freaking drug--in one day?!"

"Viv--"

"--That's $1.6 million a year! Did we even make that much last year!" I scream.

"We? Vivian, you've never worked a day in your fucking life. There is no 'we made', it's what I made. And because I'm the one who made the money, I can do whatever the hell I want with it so just hop off."

"Nikki, baby, we have bills, and insurance didn't cover as much on my time in the hospital and follow-ups as we had hoped so we have to spend money on necessities and not..." I trail off, calming myself down, rubbing my forehead, trying not to start crying.

"Viv, I'll handle it." He tells me after a moment of quiet between us. "Alright?"

I rub my lips together, letting out a sigh as he holds his hand out to take the stack of bills from me.

I hand them over, not saying a word more, before leaving him to continue scraping up motivation to actually write something.

He wrote "Wild Side", which completely reworks and assaults the Lord's prayer...then the bastard listed me as a co-write because, "well you told me what the prayer was to begin with so technically you helped me write it."

When the conservatives went digging around once the album was released, they dragged me through the mud when they saw my name attached to a bastardized version of something sacred to christianity and I heard every degrading, yet passive, insult any holier-than-thou Bible-biddy could throw at me.

I stopped going to church for quite a while after that because I didn't even want to face the possibility of all those people smiling in my face while thinking, "she's not the really for God."

"Valentine's Day?" I ask Doc, raising my brows. "...Really?"

"Well, they wanna get a good feel of Nikki and you're obviously a part of his life, so they figured spending Valentine's Day with you two would be pretty interesting." He explains.

"I don't want anybody getting a good feel of Nikki's anything." I reply stubbornly, crossing my arms.

"Yeah, and Viv won't let me pull out the really special techniques while someone's in the house with us." Nikki adds. "And she only lets me do them on special occasions."

"Nobody's feeling anybody else, and you two sodomites can have all the fun you want once the interview is done with. It'll take four hours, tops." Doc says, looking at Nikki. "We're gonna have to start promoting the album."

This is the selling point.

Nikki sighs, rubbing his face, groaning.

"Fine." He gives up, looking at me. "We can entertain the nosy bastard for a few hours, I guess."

"I suppose." I roll my eyes.

"Thank you." Doc let's out with relief.

"Was that it?" I ask him, glancing around his office.

"Oh, yeah." He nods.

"We drove down here just for you to tell us something you could have easily called and told us over the phone?" Nikki asks next.

"Yeah, 'cause I wanted to see how you look and sure enough you look like shit." Doc states and Nikki rolls his eyes. "Which reminds me, clean up your house and make yourself seem like you're not on drugs. K?" Doc gives us a parting word of advice as we stand up to leave.

"Yeah, yeah, got it." Nikki waves him off, leaving in front of me.

"Viv." Doc says to me and I nod reassuringly.

"I'll make sure he keeps it together for the interview."

"Thank you, you two be careful on the way home."

"We will, bye." I shut the door and follow Nikki out to his Jeep.

"I really don't feel like dealing with the press." He grumbles, looking at me now with his sunglasses on and I give him a small smile.

"Maybe it won't be that bad."

"I don't like people I don't fuck with in my house. It's my house. My space. It isn't a fucking amusement park that's open for review." He cranks the car and I put my seat belt on.

"Baby?"

"What?" He says a little harsh.

"It will be okay." I pat his fluffy hair. "K?"

He doesn't answer, actually pouting like a spoiled little boy.

When he ignores me, about to start driving, I raise a brow, unbuckle, and my fingers slowly fumble with the button on his jeans as his pout falters and his smirk replaces it, followed by the sound of a content, groan-filled sigh, and the back of his head hitting the back of his seat when I get my mouth around his prick.

Once we get home I'm wiping the remains of slobber and cum from my lips and he's struggling to keep his legs from collapsing.

"Are you okay?" I ask him smugly when his leg shakes a little bit as he unlocks the front door.

"Watch it, Sixx." He warns as he points at me, his hand popping me on the ass when I walk in front of him to go inside, and I let out a small shriek, following it with a laugh.

My laughter abruptly stops when I see Vanity watching T.V.

She actually seems sober enough, but she looks like she just came off of a bender.

Nikki and I look at each other.

"Oh, there you are. Nikki wasn't answering the phone and I wanted to see him." She tells us, her eyes glued him, and he sighs.

"Well, I'm here. What do you want?" He asks her in a snap, taking his jacket off.

"Nikki, quit being rude." I tell him quietly.

"Showing up to people's houses uninvited is rude." He replies, glaring at her.

"Not when I gave her the code to the gate and a key." I state.

His eyes bug for a second and he's raising his brows at me.

"You what?"

"Tansy has the code and a key, Tommy, Vince and Mick have the code and a key. Izzy, Steven, Slash, Duff, Axl--"

"--That's different." He cuts me short.

"How? They're our friends and so is she." I point out.

"If I'm not welcome I can just go." She says, grabbing her coat.

"Bye." Nikki says just as I say, "no, it's okay."

He and I give each other dirty looks.

"I was actually about to start cooking dinner and invite some friends over so feel free to stay, please." I offer to her. "Nikki, I need your help in the kitchen."

He follows me and I yank on the ends of his hair once we're alone, scolding him.

"Will you stop being a jackass to her?!" I whisper-yell.

"Can you stop being so fucking nice to people? It's stupid."

"Oh, God forbid Nikki Sixx be married to someone who's not a complete bitch." I roll my eyes, grabbing a few pans from our cabinet and he let's out a heavy breath.

"She's fucking crazy, Vivian." He argues and I turn to face him.

"You say the same thing about me any time I piss you off. I really believe she's a good girl, Nikki. She just needs one, good, solid friend that isn't just friends with her to have someone to do drugs with." I explain.

"Oh, yeah, Viv, she's really good...at being a fucking slut."

I pop him in the side of the face and point my finger at him.

"You don't talk like that about Vince or Tommy or Robbin so why the hell talk like that about her?"

"Because she is one." He ignores me and I let out a breath. "Some of the dudes she's fucked are married." He adds.

"Tansy has slept with married men, is she a slut, too?" I ask him and he rolls his jaw. "What I thought."

"Viv, I really don't--"

"Okay, Nikki. Whatever you say." I interrupt him, grabbing some things from the fridge. "She's an awful person, got it. Can you please help me with this so I can clean up the house some?" I ask.

He hesitates for a second before opening the packet of chicken on the counter I pulled from the fridge.

"Thank you." I smile, kissing his cheek, before leaving him alone so I can get the house in nice shape.

To say Nikki projected shit onto Vanity would be an understatement. Her hands weren't clean, of course, but he would often externally put her down the way he internally put himself down for what the two of them were doing to me. It was moments like that, that I looked back on after finding everything out, and would want to hit myself.

He practically told me they were sleeping together without actually saying "hey, I'm screwing this woman that you think is your friend, and you're being too nice and naive to think we wouldn't do that to you."

"Tommy and Heather, Vince and Sharise, Tansy and Vanity, Duff, Slash, Steven, Izzy and Axl." I tell Mick how many people will be at dinner and I hear him let out a breath on the other end of the phone.

"I don't know, Viv." He tells me.

"Mick, c'mon, I haven't seen you very much the past year."

"I don't know..."

"Mick--"

"--Mick, get your ass over here so we can have a good time. We're gonna see you in the studio tomorrow, anyway, so just come celebrate the commencement of the start of the new album." Nikki says after he takes the phone from me.

Mick says something and Nikki grins.

"Alright, bye." He hangs up. "He's in." He tells me.

"Thank you for snatching the phone from me, dickhead." I say, half-joking.

"Okay, I am this close," he holds his pointer finger and thumb centimeters apart from each other. "to bending you over my knee and beating your ass."

"Promise?" I reply, grinning, and he tugs me closer to him, but just before our lips meet, Vanity is walking--more so bursting--into the kitchen.

"Nikki, when are we hanging out?" She asks him, nearly bouncing on the balls of her feet.

Nikki's hands dig into my hips as if he's channeling his frustration instead of being rude.

I know what "hangout" means, and I don't need him cracked out, especially not now with guests coming over soon.

"I don't think that's a good idea, Vanity." I explain to her as politely as I can.

"Why not?" She asks me.

"Just not aright now." Nikki tells her, actually more tolerant than he was earlier.

I don't know if I'm shocked because he's not being an ass to her, or because he's turning down the opportunity to go hit a crackpipe.

Vanity looks at me for a split second--a very short, nearly millisecond--as if I'm the fucking Devil, before it vanishes and she smiles at us.

"Okay, I'm gonna be in the bathroom freshening up." She tells us, walking in the direction of the guest bathroom, and I let out a breath when she's gone.

"You mean you don't wanna greet our guests naked, waving a gun, and accuse them of being the FBI before opening fire?" I ask him.

He just gives me an unamused look.

"I'm gonna go change before that 'ass beating' is administered." I suggest.

"Yeah, good idea."

I change, put on some makeup, and run my fingers through my hair to comb it out before stepping into the kitchen to help Nikki finish up.

I'm met with uncooked food.

"Uh...Nikki?!" I call, glancing at the clock to see it's 8:00pm.

People will be here any minute.

I go looking for him, smelling the familiarity of cocaine.

"Oh my God." I say to myself, opening the guest bedroom to see Nikki and Vanity crouched over their pipes with a mountain of blow out.

They look at me with wild eyes.

As if on cue, the doorbell rings.

"Please be someone sober. Please be someone sober." I repeat, shutting the door as I step to the door.

I open it to reveal Duff and the guys.

"I need help." I tell them, sounding panicked. "Nikki and Vanity's cracked out."

"Um, w-we were gonna ask you for help." Duff tells me.

"What, why?"

They move over and I see Tansy, shaking a little.

"Are you--"

Before I can finish, a familiar "BANG" is sounding through the house and is joined with a loud, ear-shattering shriek of glass breaking, and we hit the ground, Duff securing me under him before a second shot is fired, breaking more glass, causing Tansy to start screaming and crying from under Axl and Steven.

I thank God when Nikki doesn't shoot again, instead the sound of him scrambling to get to his closet, and the sound of Vanity's heels scampering along with him has me sighing with relief. I hear him slam our bedroom door, and Duff runs his thumbs under my eyes to wipe at tears that I had no idea were even coming out of me.

"Holy shit." Izzy mumbles.

"Are you okay?" Duff asks me and I nod as he helps me up.

"Tansy?" I ask her gently, she's got her hands over her ears, tears streaming down her face.

Axl carefully steps into the house as I continue to reassure Tansy.

"Uh, Viv?" Axl asks.

"I got it, Viv." Steven tells me, trying to calm Tansy down.

I follow Axl into the house, and I'm taken back by the sight of our entire ceiling in the living room shattered over our couches, the carpet, the coffee table, the T.V., it's a giant sheet of sparkling, sharp, shards of mirror.

It seems like forever just staring at the damage done to my house, and I'm unable to get words to come out of my mouth.

"Dude, is Tansy alright?" Tommy's voice sounds at the door and we snap around to see him.

I hear Heather and Sharise outside before Vince comes in behind Tommy, their brows raising at the sight of the mess.

"Hooollllyyyy..." the blonde singer drags out.

"You alright?" Axl asks me, and anger rolls through me, my teeth grinding together.

"Viv?" Tommy adds.

"Doc. Bob. Now." Is all I'm able to say.

"On it." Tommy doesn't waste a minute stepping through the glass to get to the phone in the living room while Axl tugs me back outside to avoid murdering Nikki.

That was the first straw that began the process of breaking the camel's back.

#nikki sixx #mötley crüe #nikki sixx fanfiction #nikki sixx x oc #gateway drug

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s-trawberryv-eins · 6 years ago

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An Introduction

(NOT MY GIF)

AN INTRODUCTION TO CAROLINE STARK

A/N: Hi! Thanks for reading! So, after months of waffling about wanting to write, I finally sat down and did it. It’s pretty complicated, so it’s pretty important to read this one before you start with anything else. I’ve created an original character, who lives in a slightly alternative universe to the one we were left with after Endgame. I’d like to state that none of my personal changes are reflections of my opinions of what DID happen, but in order to build her as I wish, some things needed to be slightly different.

1) Steve didn’t go back to Peggy after he returned the stones

2) Hulk and Banner didn't become one, they’re still two separate beings

3) Natasha was brought back by Steve as he was able to return the soul stone in return for her life

4) The compound was rebuilt after the Battle of Earth. There is a memorial for Tony where he died.

A few other things to note:

1) My first piece of writing will be a background that is applicable to all of the fics. However, many of them will be stand alone, unless I state otherwise. I’ll be creating a masterlist which will lay everything out very clearly, but please feel free to ask if you need to 😊

Thanks for reading the boring stuff. Everything will be up soon!

Summary: An introduction to the secret Stark sister. Who is she? Why was she kept a secret? And what happens when everybody finds out?

Warnings: Abandonment, injury, PTSD, death, blood, but there's plenty of soft love too.

Word count: 1921

SUMMER 2004

MALIBU, CALIFORNIA

"Yes, yes, two seconds!" Tottering over to the front door of her bosses lavish Malibu home, Pepper Potts grumbled under her breath, annoyed by the fact that she was the one answering the incessant knocking. "I’m not your maid, Tony!” Sighing, she unlocked the door and prepared to shoo whichever reporter, play bunny, or cold caller had decided that 10 PM on a Tuesday evening was a good time to show up. However, she was greeted with something entirely unexpected.

“Oh! Hello! Are you lost? Where’s your Mom?" In front of Miss Potts stood a small girl, 7 years of age, a sparkly pink bag held tightly in her little hand. Pepper greeted the young girl with the cheeriest voice she could manage in her surprise. Sticking her head out of the door, she looked around, but with a furrowed brow she realised that they were alone. There wasn’t another figure or car in sight.

“Momma said I had to give you this." In her tiny outstretched hand was a thick envelope. "She said my Daddy lives here.” The look on her face told Pepper that she knew exactly what had happened. Even as young as she was, she had an obvious maturity that would break hearts. Her mother had abandoned her, and the girl understood that entirely.

With eyes so wide it hurt, Pepper took the envelope, peeking inside to find a passport, a letter, and a photograph of Mr Stark and a woman. The girls' mother, Pepper presumed. Shock was written into the PAs face, but she forced a smile all the same. After a quick look at the passport, she ushered the child inside.

"Come on in, Caroline. We’ll sort you out, okay?”

LATE 2008

NEW YORK

A series of loud bangs on her bedroom door pulled Caroline from her daydream. Not even having a chance to respond, the door burst open and three young girls practically fell into her room.

“Turn the TV on!"

“As if you weren’t famous enough!"

“Did you know? You must've known?!"

Wide eyed and clueless as to what her friends were talking about, Caroline blinked back gormlessly as Amelie grabbed the remote and turned the TV on.

“What channel?“

“Can somebody tell me what the hell is going on?" The 11-year-old spoke up, and all three heads turned to face her, humour in their eyes as they stated what was seemingly obvious.

“Your dad, Care.” Caroline knew her Father had been in some trouble. Happy had shown up outside the halls of residence, whisking her away immediately. The panic set in as her heart sped up violently. As the girls scrambled through the channels, they froze as a man in a suit appeared on the screen. Caroline's dad. Tony Stark. They watched in awe as he addressed his audience. As his daughter, she'd watched a few press conferences before. They were a bore, however, she couldn't lie.

The TV remote fell from Amelie’s hand as he spoke the four words that changed history.

“I am Iron Man.”

MAY 2012

MANHATTAN, NEW YORK

Footage of the Chitauri destroying the very ground she stood on flashed through Caroline’s mind. Gripping Happy’s arm as she sobbed, the 14-year-old girl cried out desperately for her Father. Their relationship had been very rocky for a while. He’d rejected his new responsibility at first, leaving Pepper to parent the girl. He’d even shipped her off to boarding school, where he further pushed away his long-lost child. It wasn’t until Pepper dragged him by the sleeve to the young girl’s dorm room and forced him inside that he’d actually spoken to his daughter. From there, they established a solid relationship. Caroline, of course, fell head over heels for her Father. He could do no wrong in her eyes. That never changed, even as she grew.

Fear wracked her body at the thought of Tony not surviving the battle. Staring at the sky, she prayed and prayed that he return from that giant swirling hole of death that currently dominated New York. When she saw his body fall through the sky, her fear both vanished and increased ten-fold.

Later that evening, JARVIS informed her of her Fathers arrival at the beaten-up tower. Racing to find him, she threw her arms around his neck and cried. She cried and cried until she ran out, but she never let go of his hand.

MAY 2015

NOVI GRAD, SOKOVIA

“Daddy?” Her voice came out a whimper. She felt weak and small.

“Hey baby girl, I’m uh…I’m guessing you’ve seen, right? Yeah, it’s bad, Care.”

“Dad, what’s going on?”

“Listen, baby, I’ve gotta end this. Me and Thor, uh, we think we’ve got a way. A lot of people will die if we don’t do this. You're the best thing, you know?" His voice was soft, even as he continued to fight off robots and save the world. The line grew staticky and Caroline couldn’t stop the tears that spilled from her eyes. "I'm so glad you showed up on my doorstep all those years ago. I’m sorry for taking so long."

“Why does it sound like you're saying goodbye? Daddy you're scaring me!” Her voice was a desperate whimper, and a pain in her chest bloomed violently.

“I love you, Caroline. Remember th-" Horror erupted over her features as the line went dead. Not knowing whether she'd ever see him again, she made her way to New York, her heart dragging painfully behind her.

NEW YEARS EVE 2015

AVENGERS COMPOUND

UPSTATE NEW YORK

Caroline and her Father walked through one of the many laboratories of the new compound. On her 18th birthday the Stark girl was offered a position as a biomechanical engineer for the new era S.H.I.E.L.D. program, built following its collapse in 2014. Taking after her Dad, she had excelled in school, and to the amazement of her new bosses, had landed a glowing recommendation from Iron Man himself. The decision for her to live under a different last name to Tony was one he himself had requested in a bid to keep her safe for as long as he could. She had never really met the other Avengers, and only three other people knew of her existence; Pepper, Happy, and Natasha Romanoff. It was easy enough to hide her identity.

Caroline didn’t mind too much. She could still see her parents as much as she pleased, and it prevented any special treatment from schools and professors. Those around Caroline herself knew; her school friends knew, she didn't want to keep a secret from them, and besides, she didn't know any better when she told them at 8 years old.

“How’re you settling in? Are you sure this isn’t too soon? This is too soon. I’m taking you-“ midway through his rambling, Tony realised his daughter both lived and worked at the compound, rendering his threat useless. "I'll take you somewhere. Details, schmetails."

“Dad! Calm down! You’re spiralling. I’m fine, I’m settling in just fine! Now come on, I need to meet everyone.” A proud smile graced the young girls features as she tried to rid her rather of any worry. With a sigh, he took his daughters hand in his own and led her to the Avengers quarters. Separating just before they entered the room, Caroline took a shaky breath.

“Folks gather round. This is our new Doc. With Banner MIA," his brows drew together as he spoke, and his gaze fell to the floor for a second before finding Caroline "she’s our go to! This is Caroline. Caroline Lockwood.” A half smile appeared on his face, the bittersweet moment getting the best of him. After a few brief introductions, the girl bid them goodbye to get ready for one of Tony Starks famous New Year’s Eve parties.

JUNE 2018

AVENGERS COMPOUND

UPSTATE NEW YORK

Pepper sat with her daughter, a blanket around the two of them as they hid. They sat in silence, unable to find the words. Trying to maintain hope when everything around them told them to give up was the hardest battle they'd fought yet. “Momma? We’ll be fine, right? We always win.” Her voice nothing but a whisper in the darkness, she felt her adoptive mothers’ fingers tighten around her own.

“We'll be fine, baby. Your Dad will do what he always does. He'll save us. He'll save everybody.” The sad smile on Caroline's face couldn’t be seen in the dark, but Pepper could tell the moment that it fell. She felt the energy in the air shift. Did they lose? “Baby? Baby what’s wrong?" Placing her soft hands either side of her daughter’s face, she gasped sharply as the blanket fell around them, no longer supported by two bodies. Instead, a dark ash took the place of the youngest Stark.

“I’m sorry, Momma" she choked out before disintegrating completely "I'm sorry.”

Pepper was left alone, covered in heartbreak, grief, and the ashes her child left behind.

OCTOBER 2023

ATLANTA, GEORGIA

"Hey, sweetie. Do you want Mom?" Morgan shook her head and stepped closer to her sister.

“Can you help me? You’re my sister.” With sad, glazed over eyes, Caroline nodded. It's not difficult to sympathise with the two girls. Morgan knew all about her big sister. Stories were told, and pictures were framed in every inch of the house. Morgan idolised her before she’d ever met her. And when, by some miracle, they did meet, it was a few days before their fathers’ funeral. Two days before that, Caroline had been dead.

Dead.

It'd been one hell of a week.

To say the oldest Stark sister walked on eggshells around the younger one would be an understatement. Allowing their relationship to be on Morgan’s terms was the least she could do. The thought that Morgan may reject her completely never left her mind, despite Peppers constant reassurance. “I can braid your hair, if you’d like. Momma taught me when I was a little girl."

"Where's Morgan?" Pepper's voice barely registered in Caroline’s brain. She could feel herself drifting further and further away every day. But she didn't have the strength to fight it.

“Happy took her for cheeseburgers.” A hint of smile traced her mouth, but it didn't stick. It never stuck. The bags under her eyes were heavy and dark, and the once rich brown of her eyes seemed to have dulled miserably. After receiving her own private recording from Stark, she felt as if she'd broken completely. Turning to face Pepper, she struggled to continue, her voice hoarse from crying and screaming in the night. "They should be back an-"

“MOMMY SISSY UNCLE HAPPY BOUGHT EXTRA.” Watching the tiny girl stumble through the door, a brown paper bag clutched tightly to her chest, Caroline just stared in awe. Of course, Morgan was too young to really understand what happened. She missed her Daddy, and she knew he wasn’t coming home, but she managed to smile. Her eyes shined bright as ever. The world hadn't tainted her hope, it hadn’t torn away her faith.

It would be so, so easy to just let go. To just give up and fall into the oblivion that called her name. But in doing so, she'd miss even more time with her sister. Watching her eat with a pensive look on her face, clutching on to Pepper and watching all the strangers around her, Caroline made a choice. She could do it for Morgan. She could hold on and keep going.

So, she did.

TAGS:

@bucky-castiel

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ask-de-writer · 5 years ago

Text

SPHERIC DISTORTION : a tale from Flocking Bay (1 part)

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Return to Flocking Bay

SPHERIC DISTORTION

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

2198 words

written 1991

Reproduction in any form, physical, electronic or digital is prohibited without the express consent of the author.

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Users of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights. They may reblog the story. They may use the characters or original characters in my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical compositions. I will allow those who do commission art works to charge for their images.

All sorts of Fan Activity, whether Fiction, Art, Cosplay, Music or anything else is ACTIVELY encouraged!

///////////////////////

Watching through the clinic window, I saw Mr. Hilstrom get out of his battered ‘52 De Soto and walk up to the door of the Blackwall Street Ophthalmology Clinic. He walked with the care of the aged, avoiding any touch of the round black stones that lined the parking lot and front walk of my recently built clinic.

I am Dr. Fredricks, Ophthalmologist, the only eye doctor in Flocking Bay. My practice is growing in a satisfactory way but I am still a newcomer in the nearly closed society of this small Maine town. In spite of my name, my background is almost pure Iroquois. My father changed his name to make his family less conspicuous in white man̓’s society.

“Doc, you gotta help me out,” Mr Hilstrom started, as soon as he got through with the receptionist and we introduced ourselves. “The license bureau says that if I can’t see better, I can’t drive no more. It’s plain ridiculous what they say. I had these glasses more’n twenty years. Had to go all the way to Bangor for ‘em. Now they tells me they ain’t good ‘nough. Humph,” he muttered, “all the way to Bangor, and they ain’t good ‘nough.”

“Well, you know how it is,” I sympathized. “In twenty years, things do change. Mostly, it’s damn government rules.” I added as a face saver, “Maybe they changed how well you have to see for driving, now.”

“I knew I was right to come to ya, young as you are,” he agreed heartily. “You do understand how things is. They can’t stop the last member of the oldest family of Flocking Bay from drivin’. Tain’t right.”

“Quite so,” I agreed politely, “Why don’t you tell me how Flocking Bay was started while I run the tests those same bureaucrats make me run to prescribe new lenses? By the by, you do want to save fifty or sixty dollars, don’t you?”

“Sure, Doc, how?” he asked in a friendly way.

“I’ll just put the new lenses into your old frames. They’re perfectly good frames, even if they are twenty years old, and they fit you exactly. Works of art they are.”

“Yep, right as rain to come here,” he cackled, gleeful at the thought of saving money. With left eye covered, he looked at the chart and said confidently, “An ‘E’ and some blurs. You allus hears about white and Indian didn’t get along.” Covering his right eye, he added, “An ‘A’,

I think, an’ some blurs - didn’t see you switch charts, Doc. Flocking Bay was the result of cooperation, pure and simple.”

“Good grief,” I thought to myself, “His glasses weren’t that strong, and he can’t read the ‘C’ on the top of this chart. The man’s a menace on the road!” Aloud, I said, “Yes, the charts come from a projector over here, and I switch them around so kids can’t memorize a chart and fool me about how good their eyes are. Cooperation? White and Indian? That’s real interesting.”

As we progressed through the various tests of visual acuity, visual field, glaucoma, and astigmatism, the whole ‘interesting’ story came out. Appalling, I would say, since it was the same story that I already knew but told by the side that won. It was told with smug, callous satisfaction. Here, in essence, is what he told me.

“It was near enough to three hundred years ago that a smallish tribe lived in the Flocking Bay area. They was called the Marquoots or Marquosts or some such heathen name. The bigger tribes around ‘em was afeared of their evil magics and shunned ‘em. They didn’t have no chief. They was lead by a Shaman with no name. He only had a a title as nobody remembers no more.

“The tribes all around ‘em made a deal with the white men. If the white men ‘ud use their guns to kill the Shaman at a distance, then their evil magic ‘ud be stopped ‘fore it c’d start. The white men ‘ud get help in destroying the rest of the tribe, and they c’d have the Marquost land to settle. A bullet in the Shaman̓s back, from ambush, did for him in spite of his black magics. That first bullet was fired by a Hilstrom.

“At the heart of the Marquost evil and black magic was a big solid slab of black stone, standing at the south end of their village. At its base was a lot of round black stones. On top of them stones, up ‘gainst the slab, all the growed-up villagers was kilt and their bodies was left there to rot. The kids was took by the other Indians to raise as slaves.

“All the bodies vanished and was never found. Nobody seen it happen. They was just gone.

“Over the centuries, that slab got two things: the name Blackwall, an’ a nasty reputation. It stayed standing in spite of crow-bars, gunpowder, an’ even dynamite. Through the years since, bunch of people has vanished somewheres near it. They named Blackwall Street after it.

“Those good Indians kept their word and white folks settled Flocking Bay.”

When the testing was done, I offered, “Let me take your frames now. I will drive you home in your car. I have a lab here at the clinic and I will make your lenses for you by tomorrow. You will have to return by bus or cab. If you give me a fare receipt or ticket, I’ll take the cost of the ride off of your lenses.”

“That’s mighty decent, Doc. You can’t make much, if you treat all your patients this good,” he accepted with a slightly snaggletoothed smile.

I took his old glasses and closed the clinic for the day, explaining as I did so, “Your story was worth it, by itself. Besides, you deserve special consideration as the last direct descendant of Flocking Bay̓’s founders.”

As we climbed into the old De Soto, he gave me the key and said, “I wish more folks felt the way you do, Doc. Most just think I’m some sort of crackpot with crazy stories. Just live straight down Blackwall, t’other end of town.”

I mostly drove in silence. Not only was the old car noisy, I was doing a lot of thinking.

“Here we are, Doc. On the left.” As I pulled into the drive, I saw that the house was very old. It was in good repair but needed paint. Hand squared beams and planks showed past the paint in many places. The front steps were worn almost through by generations of feet. The shrubs were untrimmed, and the yard was roughly overgrown with weeds.

“Hilstrom House,” he announced with such pride that you could hear the capital letters. “First house built in Flocking Bay. All the Hilstroms have been born here, lived here, and like as not, died here,”

“I’ll get a bus, down the block,” I said. “You know, there ought to be some sort of marker or something, to let people know. This house is part of their history. See you tomorrow,” I called as I headed out the drive, toward the bus stop.

Returning to the clinic, I went into the back, which was divided into living quarters and lab. I fixed a Spartan dinner while I contemplated the food for thought that I had got from Mr. Hilstrom.

I am an Iroquois by birth and blood but not only Iroquois. My many greats grandmother (most Indian tribes are matrilineal and neither the Iroquois or the Marquost were exceptions) had been sold to the Iroquois for a basket of maize and a haunch of venison. Recognized for her wisdom and hard work, the daughter of the Marquost shaman had been adopted by the honorable Iroquois. I was her last descendant.

I had come to Flocking Bay to close the ring of the past. The early diaries in the library had been frustrating. They all gave second hand accounts, told by people who came after the fact, reporting the massacre as a horror already done and none had named the settlers responsible. Now, fate had given me the last descendant of the man who, with a fatal bullet, had destroyed my ancient people. We have not forgotten, nor have they. It was time to make our own special peace.

I set about making his lenses, grinding them with care, perfectly to his prescription, yet just a bit thicker than strictly necessary.

The next day, Mr. Hilstrom arrived and picked up his glasses. He was surprised. “Everything’s crystal clear!” he exclaimed happily, “But everything’s bowed an’ bent, too!”

“Yes,” I told him, “that effect is called spheric distortion. It is a bit unsettling at first. You should hardly notice it, after a few days. If you are still having trouble on Saturday, come to see me by bus. I live in the back, so I’ll be here. Be sure not to drive until we have the problem fixed, OK?”

“OK, Doc,” he said and left.

I knew that he would be back. The extra thick lenses would cause so much spheric distortion that he would have to return.

On Saturday, Mr. Hilstrom came again. “Doc, I tell you, it’s ‘nough to make a man paranoid,” he stated as he lay on the couch in my living quarters. “Everthin’ as used to be straight, you know, phone poles, tree trunks, even walls, now they bow away from me in the middle. The closer I get, the worse they bend. It’s walls that are worst.

“Every wall, if I gets close to it, bows away in the middle but the top arches over me! The corners! They looms even further around! It’s like the wall was gonna fold in on me!”

I smiled reassuringly, “It may surprise you but I know exactly what you mean. My own first glasses were wicked that way. Turns out I can fix most of it very easily.”

As he handed over his glasses he said, “Don’t think much of your sense of humor, Doc. Paintin’ this wall black, I mean. The old Blackwall used to be hereabouts.” He leaned back on the couch and patted the wall behind him. As he did, a look of alarm crossed his face.

“A frame adjustment is all that you need,” I told him and then with straightforward honesty, “As for the Blackwall, that is it. I have been living next to it for six months, now. No harm has come to me.

“When I came here, the land it was on was the cheapest in Flocking Bay, because nobody wanted it. Using it as a main part of the building saved me near $8000.00 on construction costs.”

“Don’t know if that was wise, Doc,” he fretted. “Using it may have saved you good money but folks tell bad stories about the Blackwall.”

“You want something really funny?” I laughed, “I am an Iroquois but my lots of times great grandmother was sold to them as a slave. She was the daughter of the last Marquost Shaman. If any Marquosts were left, I would be their Shaman.

“Now, here we are, each the last descendant of ancient enemies. I am fixing your eyes so that you can go on driving and you have given me valuable family history that I could never have gotten in any other way. As for the famous Blackwall, the State Department of Geology says ‘basaltic intrusion in a sedimentary formation.’ That’s all.

“There is an old Marquost saying that has come down in my family: ‘The best peace is with an ex-enemy.’

“You just relax while I go into the lab and adjust these frames,” I said as he settled back on the couch, calm again.

At the door, I looked back and said, “You won’t have to be afraid of every wall in Flocking Bay any more. You’ll see …”

Once in the lab, I put down his glasses and picked up an ancient stone knife. I lightly cut the ball of my thumb. I pressed the bleeding thumb to the Blackwall. I felt a slight shudder in the stone. When I took my thumb away, it was healed with no trace of the cut. There was no blood on the Blackwall.

“Yes,” I said to myself as I came back into my living quarters, “You don’t have to fear every wall. Only this one.” I rolled the round black stone that was all that was left of Mr. Hilstrom off my couch and out to a place along my front walk with all the other stones. “Yes, the best peace is with an ex-enemy - especially if he’s a dead one.”

THE END

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Return to Flocking Bay

This completes Spheric Distortion. If you enjoyed what you just read, please go to the Master Story Index for links to all of the stories that I have posted on Tumblr.

#SPHERIC DISTORTION #Part 1 of 1 #Flocking Bay #Written by De Writer

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emma-nation · 6 years ago

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Thinking Of You (Mona x MC Fanfiction) - Chapter 8

You said move on Where do I go? I guess second best Is all I will know

Summary: Years later, Allison has everything she wants, a brand-new internship as a doctor, a handsome boyfriend… but her first nightshift won’t go as expected…

Genre: Romance, Angst

Tag list: @zoe6111, @simsvetements, @mvrinettes, @whoinvitedalx, @scarlet-letter-a0114, @abunchofbadchoices, @kamilahmademedoit, @janurary, @talkinlikeateen, @eagle-one-1, @andreear17, @tia-bi, @monagf, @monahott, @fal-carrington, @crazzyplays, @honorablebicycle, @teja-desai (let me know if you want to be tagged!)

Notes:

- English is not my first language, forgive me for any mistakes.

“Party, Allison?” Mr. Wheeler questioned. “This is how you intend to catch a serial killer? By taking her to a party?”

“Dad, first we need to get the seller,” she explained. “And what place is better than a party to catch a drug dealer?”

“I did not assigned you to the mission so you could hang out with her. You have a fiancé, don’t you remember? And besides, there will be alcohol, sex and...”

“We’re no longer teenagers, dad. We know what we’re doing, right Mona?”

Mona was not even paying attention. She was sitting on the couch, focused on Allison’s laptop. She wasn’t hearing a single word of the argument, she just kept a concentrated look on the screen, while she typed uninterrupted.

“What?” She finally asked. “In case the two of you haven’t noticed, I have an essay to finish.”

“You don’t have to worry about it,” Mr. Wheeler told. “Bring me more suspects, more evidence. This is what you’re supposed to be doing in college. Once the mission is over, you’re out.”

“Right, I forgot that wasn’t for people like me,” she scowled, closing the laptop. “Thanks for the reminder, Pops.”

Mona left to the bedroom, leaving Allison alone with her father.

“Dad, she has been so engaged with this college thing. Why did you have to ruin it?”

“I didn’t ruin anything, Allison. That’s the truth. They’re only allowing Mona there for the mission.”

“B-But can’t we arrange anything, after this is over? I mean, look at her essay. She’s so incredibly smart. All the teachers are commenting her performance in classes. It’s the first time I really see her finding pleasure in anything, other than... her past habits.”

“I’m sorry, honey. This isn’t my business and neither should be yours. She has made her own choices and there’s nothing we can’t do to change it.”

Allison went to check on Mona, but after the argument with Mr. Wheeler, she was no longer social or even accessible. She followed to the guest room, where she was supposed to have one final conversation with Griffin about their engagement. Though he was online, he took a long time to pick up the call.

“Allison, baby. Hey.”

“Hey Griffin,” she sighed. “Do you finally have a moment so we can speak? It has been days I’ve been trying to...”

“I’m sorry, I’m very busy right now. Yellow Fever epidemics. Too many patients to check.”

Another excuse. Allison rolled her eyes. It was almost like he knew what she was about to tell him.

“It’s only for a few minutes,” she insisted, losing her patience. “Come on, you had time to fly to Spain over the weekend, but you don’t have a minute for me?”

Griffin’s expression suddenly darkened.

“S-Spain? I’ve never been in Spain, Allison. I’m trapped here in this small village, without internet signal most of the time. Trust me, we barely have water to drink!”

“Well, your phone was displaying a different location a few days ago.”

“Oh...” he looked down for a moment, pensive. “I had to sell my old phone. That’s it, the new owner must have forgotten to disable my ID. Thanks for telling me.”

“No problem, now can we...”

A message of lost signal was displayed on her screen. Allison punched the keyboard, frustrated.

“You gotta be kidding me.”

----------

When Mona woke up in the morning, she was still in a bad mood because of the Detective, who was only using her to do the job he was unable to. Things only got worse when she had an accidental meeting with Allison. In the bathroom. When she had just finished. What lead them to be awkward around each other for the next hour.

"My bad," she was getting used to pronounce those words.

"There'd be no problem, Mona," Allison's cheeks went red again, "if you hadn't stared for so long."

"I was only appreciating the view. I hadn't seen it in a while, so..."

"No! Please, can we just forget it?"

"It'll be kinda hard, but I promise I'll try my best."

"Mona!" Allison's face was reaching a new shade of red.

"Consider it unseen," she spoke as Detective Wheeler arrived in the kitchen. "But I liked it," she whispered.

Allison's father interrupted them with another command. The University's basketball team would be hosting a 'Welcome Game', though Mona didn't have the smallest interest in attending, now she'd be forced to.

"Keep an eye on your suspect," he ordered, "and on this guy."

He showed the picture of a slender young male.

"He's the star of the team. Has been reported to be exhibiting abnormal behavior over the last few weeks. Watch who he speaks to, before and after the game."

She didn't have much work, as soon as they arrived in the University, the famous basketball star was casually chatting with Brian, who went back to his dorm carrying a small package.

"It'll be easier than I thought," Mona thought, snapping some pictures.

Later in class, she finished her lab experiment before any other students, so she took the time to search for places to take Allison after the game, as an apology for the morning incident.

"How do you even do that?" Her lab partner whined by her side.

His name was Leon, the leader of the RPG club, and only member too. He bonded with Mona for being rejected by the rest of their classmates as well. Later, they found out they had more in common than they could’ve imagined. He was in love with a med student, who was already committed to another guy.

"Using my brain?"

"I'm using mine, but it just... don't react!"

"Like this," Mona did all the procedure again, triggering the correct chemical reaction.

"B-But..." Leon stared at her in shock. “I followed all the instructions!”

"Now write your report, I'm not doing this for you either."

As they finished writing, they began to chat. She learned Leon had good computer skills, what could be useful at some point, in case they needed to hack Brian's phone to obtain proof.

"And how are things going with Allison?" He wanted to know.

"The same," she told, hopeless. "She hasn’t broke up with the douchebag yet. I guess I’ll just have to force him out of my way.”

"Are you bringing her to the game tonight?"

"Yes, I was kinda planning something special for after the game, but I don't really know what she likes."

"Bowling Alley," he suggested. "They have this fabulous milkshake and I've managed to achieve success with a couple of dates in there."

"Thanks for the tip."

---------

"So let's recap the plan," Allison said before they entered the stadium. "I'll seduce Brian, while you break into his dorm room and get pictures of the drugs."

"He's a bastard, Allison," Mona disagreed. "I couldn't let you do this alone. You're coming with me, I've assigned someone else to keep an eye on him. While he's distracted at the game, both of us will break into his dorm."

"D-Did you told someone else about the investigation? My dad said we should be as secretive as possible."

"We could use a hacker. Besides, Leon is like a fluffy unicorn. Loyal as a puppy."

Before they follow to the basketball game, Mona inhaled deeply, getting courage enough to ask.

"Hey Allison, would you like to do something after the game? Leon suggested we should go to the Bowling Alley, but he has been developing this stupid game, and... I don’t wanna go by myself."

She knew things didn't end well the last time they went out, but this time was different. Allison had clearly expressed she was no longer interested in keeping her engagement.

"No. Way." Allison frowned, scaring her a little. Then, her expression softened again. "You're not allowed to make such an effort yet, remember?"

"Oh, the doc's back," Mona smiled. "Anyways, he said they have a great milkshake. We don't really have to play it."

"So I'm definitely in!"

Leon was sitting in a strategic spot as combined between he and Mona. For her surprise, and displeasure, there was somebody else among the crowd, sitting in the VIP area, her father.

"What on earth is this guy doing here?" She angered. "He's clearly stalking me!"

Soon she got her answer. Before the game started, he was announced as the team's new sponsor. He looked at her and winked.

"I wish I could just go down there and pull this smirk out of his face!"

"Hey," Allison held her steady. "Focus! You said he's no threat. Let's stick to our plan."

Through his laptop, Leon sent her a message. Brian had arrived and was sitting only a few meters away, in the middle of a group of girls.

"We're good to go."

Leaving the stadium, they followed straight to the male dorm. The game was only getting started, what meant they'd have a decent amount of time to search for evidence.

"Do you have his room's number?" Allison asked.

"Yes," Mona answered. "It's right around the corner."

At the corridor, they bumped into another person. Krista. She was just leaving one of the rooms.

"Remember, Doug. Ezekiel 18:21 for our studies this week. See you there!"

"Hide me, please," Mona begged, but it was too late. She had been spotted.

"Mona, hi!" The girl greeted. "What are you doing here? I thought you'd be at the game."

"I... uh... Leon, my classmate. He forgot his wallet in his dorm room. I came here to get it for him."

"And this is...?" She looked at Allison.

"Allison," Allison introduced herself. "You look strangely familiar, have we met before?"

"Hmmm, I don't think so."

"Yeah, I'm much older than you anyways."

"Hey Krista," Mona decided to mess up with her a little bit, as a payback for the other day. "I've decided to get rid of my sinful car. I'd like to purchase one exactly like yours, how much did you pay for it?"

"Good for you, Mona," she looked a little bit unsettled. "I don't know how much it costed, it was a gift from my godfather. Anyways, I should go now. I have an essay to finish."

With a satisfied look, Mona followed to Brian's room where she started picking the lock.

"Remember, your dad said I could do anything to obtain proof. Right?"

"Yes," Allison confirmed. "I'm your witness."

As the door opened, they both covered their noses.

"Ugh, it smells like rotten cheese," Allison commented.

The room was an extreme mess, it was hard to decide where to start looking for evidence. Mona started by Brian's computer, where Allison opened opened some drawers.

"No way I'm touching that pile of clothes in the corner of the room," she told. "It stinks like something died under it."

"It can't be more disgusting than that," Mona pointed to the computer screen. "He's ranking the freshmen girls and... I've got a 10, for the tough girl attitude?"

"Not even Brian could resist you, huh?"

"No one can, babe. No one."

There was nothing on his e-mail, except for Football Newsletter and party advertising. Mona sighed frustrated.

"If you were hiding your drugs, where would you hide them?"

"Under the mattress?"

"Good one," Mona lifted up the mattress a little bit, to find... romance books. "Really?"

"Come on, he deep down he must be a softie! So, in the closet maybe?" Allison suggested, but before they could even act, the door opened. Brian was back earlier than expected.

“What are you two doing in my room?!” He shouted. “I’m calling campus security, right now!”

----------

“Will you, bad boy?” Mona teased, in a intimidating manner. “Because I’m sure the last thing you want are the cops here, in your room. Am I right?”

“Oh, do you think a little thief like you? I’d like to see you prove, before I get your ass expelled from the university.”

Allison stood frozen, looking at them both. Mona had that look on her face, from when she was ready to get in a physical fight with someone. That would jeopardize the entire investigation, besides getting them both kicked out from university. Without thinking any longer, she made a decision. This is exactly what a brainless moron like Brian would like to see.

“Actually,” she removed her shirt off, revealing a lacy violet bra. “We were preparing you a surprise.”

“Excuse me?!” Brian asked, staring at her features.

“Mona told me about you and how irresistibly hot you are...” she pushed him onto the bed, climbing on top of him. “I’m sorry she isn’t good showing her feelings. I decided to give her a little hand.”

“P-Please, go ahead...”

Brian was smiling broadly. Allison winked to Mona, who was in extreme shock, inviting her to go along with her plan.

“What would you like us to do now, huh?” Allison asked him, in a seductive tone. “Anything you want.”

“M-Make out. The two of you. Please!”

Allison looked at Mona, to see if she consented. She was too dazed make a move or gave her any answer. Instead, she took a step ahead, cupping Allison’s face between her hands carefully, before placing a small kiss on her lips. Allison knew that wouldn’t be enough. Not for Brian, and especially for herself.

She pulled Mona by the waist, bringing her closer as possible and deepening the kiss. For a long time, she hadn’t felt so much pleasure in her life. The softness of Mona’s lips devouring hers, their tongues moving together, it all brought her that burning sensation she had been desiring for years. She wished that moment would never end, prolonging the kiss as much as she could, until they were both out of breath.

“Now, take off your clothes!” Brian ordered, bouncing in excitement.

“Let’s finish this...” Mona grabbed a pair of handcuffs from her pockets and restrained him on the bed post.

“Hell yeah, baby! It’s gonna get kinky here!”

“Where did you get those?” Allison asked curious.

“I stole from your father. I thought they could be useful at some point. Now go, finish searching his desk. I’ll check to the closet.”

“Wait...” Brian was confused. “What’s going on here? Are you guys cops?”

“Sort of,” Allison answered, irritated, “and if you open your mouth again, I’m going to gag you!”

Mona emerged from the closet, with the package she had previously seen Brian carrying in the morning.

“The party is over, bad boy.”

“No, please,” he begged as she unwrapped it. “D-Don’t tell anyone, I-I... I’ll pay you! My dad has a lot of money.”

“Oh shit,” Mona exclaimed, staring at the content. Allison approached, noticing some familiar blue pills.

“Really, Brian?” Allison tried to muffle a laugh. “We thought you were a drug dealer and you...”

“Can’t get it to work properly?” Mona completed, bursting into laughs.

“I have a medical condition, okay?! And if you ever tell this anyone, I’m going to kill you both!”

“Don’t worry, your secret is safe with us.”

“As long as our secret is safe too. And stop harassing girls, I mean it.”

After uncuffing him, the three of them sat down to talk about their task and what had been going on. Brian assured he wasn’t involved in any kids of drug dealing and would warn them in case he noticed anything suspicious, as long as his big secret was safe.

“I felt bad for him in the end,” Allison said as they left the room.

“Yeah, me too. All this jerk act he plays is because he...” Mona started laughing again, “has issues down there.”

Suddenly loud screaming and a big commotion started coming from all places in the University. Mona and Allison’s phones started ringing at the same time. The basketball player had fallen unconscious in the middle of the game. He had been hospitalized in a life-threatening condition.

“Stay where you are,” Mr. Wheeler ordered through the phone. “We need to check his dorm for evidence.”

----------

The police wasn’t able to find anything at the young athlete’s dorm, every evidence had been professionally cleaned. Their only hope were the surveillance cameras footage, that could’ve been caught who last entered his room.

Mr. Wheeler asked them both to go home. There was nothing else for them to do in there. Mona remained silent inside her car, blaming herself for aiming at the wrong suspect. Allison insisted and they stopped at the Bowling Alley as planned.

“It wasn’t your fault,” she told Mona, as they shared a milkshake. “It happens all the time with my dad and he has been a high-skilled detective, for years.”

“I should’ve known better,” Mona shook her head in denial. “We’re dealing with an expert, Allison. A psychopath. They don’t usually show this dark side of them. We need to start aiming for someone more... normal.”

“Any suspects?”

“None yet, but I’ll be thinking about it.”

Allison let out a deep and weary sigh.

“Jeez, I never thought this could be so intense and emotional. Even if we were just faking all the time.”

There was something else that wouldn’t leave Mona’s mind. That kiss. Was it only part of the role or Allison had true intentions when she decided to go deeper into it?

“Were we faking all the time?” Mona asked.

Allison looked down, avoiding her gaze for a moment.

“Not at all,” she finally answered, biting her lower lip.

Mona approached her, lifting up her chin.

“Would you mind doing it again? Only to be sure it was real?”

Mona leaned forward, her lips only one breath away from Allison’s. She hesitated for a moment, then placed a hand on Mona’s chest and slightly pushed her away.

“Would you mind waiting only a little longer? I still need to break off my engagement. I feel bad for doing this to Griffin. While I no longer have feelings for him, we had an entire history together.”

“I’ve waited eight years,” Mona grinned. “What’s only a few more days, right?”

“Yeah,” Allison grabbed her hand, “until the weekend I’ll be free. I promise you.”

As soon as they got home, Detective Wheeler was already waiting for them with a scowl on his face. He advanced in Mona’s direction, pinning her against the wall.

“You! You’ve ruined my investigation!” He yelled. “I’ll assure you’ll get severely punished for that!”

“Dad!” Allison shouted, pushing him aside. “What are you saying? We followed the wrong lead, and so did you, multiple times!”

“Allison, she included a total stranger in the investigation. This kid named Leon. The security cameras’ footage is gone. Considering his computer skills, he’s our main suspect now.”

“L-Leon would never do that,” Mona argued, Allison could tell she was somehow scared. “I-I was in contact with him the whole time... he was sitting at the stadium, watching the game for us!”

“While he hacked into the security system and erased everything! Now, because of your irresponsibility, we’ll need to contact the company in charge of campus’ security and attempt to retrieve footage from their server. It’s going to take weeks! Do you have any idea of how many people will die until then?”

Mona stared at the open tab on the Detective’s laptop, the security company’s website and then she realized...

“Leon didn’t do it. This security system is 99,9% impossible to be hacked. And don’t worry. Until the weekend you’re getting your footage, Detective.”

“And how can you be so sure?”

“My mom developed this security system and trust me, you don’t wanna mess with her tech skills.”

#playchoices #ride or die #mona #mona rod #mona x mc #choices stories you play #ride or die fanfiction

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likemesomesalads · 6 years ago

Note

Well I'm going to do the same thing and ask for all 20 questions for Lea! Also as a side note -- I've been keeping all my Amwyl/Lea writing in one doc and it has reached 7,000 words.

asfgaskfjha NICE~. Gotta make it more >:3

1. Do they like rain?

He does. He enjoys short summer rains outside, getting a bit wet can’t hurt if it’s warm anyway. And if it’s a big storm or rain in colder weather he likes to watch it from the window, or listen to it while reading. Rain is good. He isn’t a fan of mud though.

2. If they have any pets, what are they? If not, what would they have as a pet?

He does have a jackal now. Guess that counts as a pet. (He spoils her rotten.)

3. What do other people tend to think of them?

Theat they are pretty, clever, studious, kind and understanding. They also often think he is naive. (I mean they are not always wrong. He does like to look for the good in everyone.)

4. Do they have kids? Do they want to have kids?

No, he doesn’t. And it’s really up to Amwyl. He wouldn’t mind taking care of a child, but also he has many many saplings to teach.

5. What’s their favorite color?

Teal and gold.

6. Describe their eyes.

They are like melted gold, shimmering, kind and lively.

7. What’s their handwriting like?

Nice curved letters, evenly spaced and every word could be clearly read. (idk how to describe writing more. it’s pretty and fancy.)

8. Any phobias?

He is really afraid of birds. Like he will scream if you point ut there is a bird nearby.

9. If they have a love interest, how did they meet them? How would they describe said love interest?

They met in the Priory. Or at least Lea saw him first in the Priory when he called out his name and introduced himself.

Amwyl is like fire. Passionate and energetic and warms up Lea in every way possible. He is strong and sweet and Lea loves him more than anything. More than reading, more than teaching.

10. How would their love interest describe them?

(Probably:) He is golden and soft and clever and kind and caring. (TAT I am really bad at this Amwyl would say something so sweet I am 1000% sure)

11. How many times have they fallen in love?

You could say twice. Since he had a crush on Kahedins before he met with Amwyl.

12. How many people broke their hearts?

None.

13. How many hearts did they break?

None. He is too much of a sweetie pie.

14. Favorite fruit?

Cantaloupe.

15. Favorite vegetable?

Asparagus

16. Do they have any mental illnesses? If so, what are they and how do they make everyday life harder?

No, he doesn’t have any.

17. Did they grow up poor, rich, or somewhere in between?

In between. He has a pretty decent paycheck. Enough for him to live comfortably.

18. Where did they grow up?

He spent his sapling years in The Grove.

19. What were their parents like?

Only has one, mum. She is big and very tree. Vise and much floraly.

20. Do they like the ocean? If they do, what do they like about it?

He was never at the ocean. He probably would not like it. The saltwater is not the greatest for his foliage.

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newhologram · 8 years ago

Text

@viridian-witch replied to your post “To give you an idea of how drastic this recent change in my body is,...”

I'm happy for you :) wishing you strength and spoons

@stormears replied to your post “Just had an excellent appt with my primary to update her on my new...”

Is this the same doctor that you went to once and you tried to list all your symptoms and your own attempts at pain management, medication, etc, and she kept interrupting you till you said "I need you to listen to what I'm saying"? Is this that same doctor, who's now actually listening to you and is legit gonna pass on your info to similar people who it could help?

Nope, I have new insurance and a whole new health group. I do plan on writing a letter to my old group and sitting down with the supervisor though, because I was legitimately even more suicidal after each appointment I had with them because they were sooo full of shit. New doc was absolutely horrified when I told her how things were at my old doc’s office (she used to be with them and she left because of how awful they were). This new group is awesome, even if they are limited by the system. They’re super on top of things, they study my records, and they listen to every word I say rather than just saying “what do you want me to do about it?” every visit like my old one. They’re super encouraging for alternative stuff and they have loved hearing from me all the things that I’ve learned. My primary and rheumatologist even excitedly suggested medical marijuana to me and I was like, “waaayyy ahead of ya, ladies.” xD They don’t try to constantly push antidepressants on me every single visit, which my other doc did and it made me nuts because I’d already tried like 4 different kinds and that’s NOT HOW YOU TREAT A SPINE PROBLEM AND RESTRICTED NERVE/BLOOD FLOW?? I am legit looking into legal stuff to see if I’d even have a case for all of the distress they put me through for so many years by making me into their cash cow.

@squidpuke replied to your post “To give you an idea of how drastic this recent change in my body is,...”

This is so important im in tears at how real this is. Thank you for posting and im glad you kept going!

Thank you for being part of my story.

@apathyneverlandedonthemoon replied to your post “Welcome to regenerated 9am shop opening kid NEW with ENERGY”

POOOOOOWWWWEEEEERRR

!!!!!!!!

@tatterdemalionamberite replied to your post “I just remembered that I had a dream that the Boondocks got another...”

gosh I forgot there was a TV show! I loved the paper strip back in the day, I should actually watch the show sometime

The strip was my fav, I have the collection book of all of them. And you gotta watch the show, it’s amazing. The animation, voice acting, everything, it’s just so good. I have seasons 1-3 on DVD. :D

#reply #apathyneverlandedonthemoon #squidpuke #stormears #viridianwitch #personal #long post

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winchesters-imagine · 8 years ago

Text

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

Your name: submit What is this? // <![CDATA[ document.getElementById("submit").addEventListener('click', myHandler); function myHandler() { var v = document.body.innerHTML; var input = document.getElementById("inputTxt").value; v = v.replace(/\by\/n\b|$y\/n$/ig, input); document.body.innerHTML = v; } // ]]>

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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