្.˚⠀━━━⠀⠀BLOODY MARY!
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❛ BOHEMIAN ━━ BOOK ONE ❜𑁍ࠬ¸𓍢
━━ ❪ SUPERNATURAL ❫ ˖ ୧ 。
𓆸 ┊ ⠀CHAPTER ELEVEN⠀┊ ❀
◟ ✦ I CAN NEVER GET OUT.❞
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     THEY COVERED THE MIRRORS WITH SHEETS, closing the curtains for good measure as Charlie sat on one of the beds in their motel room, her head pulled into her legs as she cried and avoided any reflection in sight.

     Bowie seemed visibly annoyed at the set back, but wouldn't sit down until every possible reflection was covered.

Sam sits beside her, "Hey, it's okay.." He says softly, "You can open up your eyes, Charlie. It's okay."

Slowly, Charlie lifts her head, still unsure.

Bowie crouches down in front of her, face firm, "I need you to listen to me, okay? You're going to stay right here on this bed and you're not going to look at glass, or anything else that has a reflection, you understand?"

She gave a firm nod.

"As long as you do that, she can't hurt you."

"But I can't keep that up forever," She tells him quietly, her eyes burning with fresh tears, "I'm gonna die, aren't I?"

Bowie reaches over, grabbing her hand so firmly that she could practically feel his determination, "I'm not going to let anyone, or anything touch you. You're going to be just fine."

She believed him.

"All right, Charlie," Dean sat on her other side, "We need to know what happened."

"We were in the bathroom, Donna said it."

Dean shakes his head, "That's now what we're talking about. Something happened, didn't it? In your life. A secret, where someone got hurt. Can you tell us about it?"

Bowie could see it in her eyes that something clicked, that she knew exactly what they were talking about, "Are have no room to judge you." He reminds.

"I had this boyfriend. ." She starts, "I loved him, but he kinda 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."

Bowie clenched his jaw a little, thinking the worst things possible.

"He said he needed me and he loved me. And he said. . .'Charlie, if you walk out that door right now, I'll kill myself.'" She explains, her voice cracking, "And you know what I said? I said go ahead. And I left. I mean how could I say that? How could I leave him like that?"

"Because you needed to," Bowie spoke up, a flicker of realization on his face, "You loved him, but he scared you. You needed to put yourself first. If you didn't, then you would've been in a worse situation. You saved yourself. You got out."

"He's dead because of me. . . I was selfish."

Bowie shook his head, "No, he's dead because of him and he should've never guilted his life into your hands to make you stay. He was the selfish one. Charlie, you did the right thing. You left a horrible situation to better yourself."

"Then why do I feel so guilty?" She sobbed.

To that, Bowie's eyes burned with tears, "Because the people strong enough to leave, are the ones who carry the most burdens. And it hurts so fucking much," He voice broke, causing him to look down at his hands.

The brothers were stunned into silence.

"How do I stop it?" She asked softly.

"You can't. You just keep pushing forward."

—

THE BROTHERS DROVE DOWN THE HIGHWAY IN COMPLETE SILENCE. It was suffocatingly quiet as Dean's eyes kept shifting to the mirror, watching Bowie in the backseat who sat with his head rested against the window.

     Sam tried to occupy himself by reading John's journal, trying not to make eye contact with anyone.

"Bowie's right, her boyfriend kill himself wasn't her fault," Dean speaks up first.

"You know as well as I do, spirits don't exactly see shades of gray, Dean," Sam sighed. "Charlie had a secret, someone died. That's good enough for Mary."

"I guess."

     "You know, I've been thinking. .it might not be enough to just smash that mirror," Sam says slowly.

Bowie sits up a little, "What do you mean?"

"Well, Mary's hard to pin down, right? I mean she moves around from mirror to mirror. So who's to say that she's not gonna just keep hiding in them forever?" Sam explained, "So maybe we should try to pin her down, summon her to her mirror and then smash it."

"How do you know that's gonna work?" Dean asked.

"I don't, not for sure."

"Well, who's gonna summon her?"

"I'll do it," Bowie says firmly.

"No," Dean shut down with a clenched jaw.

"I will," Sam cuts in.

"Double no!" Bowie snapped.

"She'll come after me." He pressed.

"All right, you know what? That's it." Dean grumbled, roughly pulling off the highway and turning off the car. He turned to Sam, "This is about Jessica, isn't it?"

He doesn't respond.

"You think that's your dirty little secret? That you killed her somehow?" Dean pressed, "Sam, this has got to stop, man. I mean, the nightmares and calling her name out in the middle of the night, it's gonna kill you!"

Bowie rubbed his eye, "Sam, I know people grieve in different ways. . .and Dean and I aren't telling you to stop loving Jessica but there are healthier ways of dealing with things."

Sam scoffed, "You're one to talk."

Bowie reels a little, "Excuse me?" His had twitched a little, causing him to place his other hand over it.

Sam turns to face him, his eyes narrowed, "I said you're one to talk," He repeats, "You're the one who's been bottling everything and then snapping the second it gets too much to handle." He turns to Dean, "And you're the one ignoring it like it'll go away! It's fucking obvious he doesn't want to find dad, it's obvious the situation we're in is killing him and you don't even care! You're killing him Dean, you're fucking killing him—"

Dean clenched his jaw, "Stop that! Okay? Bowie's a grown man who can handle himself—"

"This isn't fucking about me, okay?" Bowie yelled over them, "This is about you so stop changing the subject and listen to me!" He thumps his hand against Sam's arm, "You can be mad at us all you want but it wasn't your fault what happened to her. It's not on you!"

"Bowie is right, if you want to blame something, then blame the thing that killed her," Dean adds in, "Hell, why don't you take a swing at me? I mean I'm the one that dragged you away from her." He looks at Bowie, slightly teary-eyed, "You too! I ruined your life, kill me for all I care!"

"I don't blame you..." Sam grumbled.

Bowie clenched his jaw, "Neither do I."

"Well neither of you should blame yourselves for whatever shit you're hiding, because there's nothing you could've done." He says.

"I could've warned her," Sam explained.

"About what?" Dean snapped, "You didn't know what was gonna happen! And, besides, all of this isn't a secret. I mean, Bow and I know all about it, it's not gonna work with Mary anyway!"

"No, you don't. . ."

Bowie frowned, "We don't what?"

"You don't know all about it," Sam says firmly, "I haven't told either of you everything."

"What are you talking about?"

Sam forced a bitter smile, "It wouldn't really be a secret if I told you, would it?"

Dean scoffed, "No. no, I don't like it, it's not gonna happen. Forget it." He ordered, "Neither of you are doing this."

"Dean, that girl back there is going to die unless we do something about it," Sam responded bluntly, "And you know what? Who knows how many more people are gonna die after that? Now, we're doing this."

Bowie shook his head, "I won't let it be you."

Sam looked at him sadly, "You've got to let me do this. Please."

—

SNEAKING INTO THE MIRROR SHOP FELT TOO EASY FOR BOWIE as the brothers walked into the building with flashlights, scanning the area. Just like the brothers guessed, there were far too many mirrors to count.

     "Well, that's just great." Dean deadpans.

     "Let's just start looking and get this over with," Bowie sighed.

     Within twenty minutes, Sam had found the mirror hooked up on a wall. The brothers crowded around it, feeling uneasy.

     "Are you sure about this?" Dean asked for the hundredth time.

     In response, Sam hands over his flashlight and steps forward. Bowie felt like something was off, but said nothing, knowing they wouldn't listen to him anyway.

     "Bloody Mary. . .Bloody Mary. . ." The brothers share a look, "Bloody Mary."

     Nothing.

     The sound of two cars rolling on wet gravel made Dean look up, motioning to Bowie. The middle child deadpans, knowing that getting in the building was too easy to be good.

     "I'll hand it." Bowie sighed.

     Dean frowned, "Are you sure? I'll come."

     "Stay with Sam, keep him safe." Bowie orders.

     Dean reluctantly complied.

     When Bowie stepped out of the store, two police cars crowded in front of the entrance, holding up hand guns in front of stern faces.

     Slowly, Bowie raised his hands, looking unbothered.

     "Hold it!" Said the first man.

     "I tripped the system on accident," Bowie lied with ease, "Boss man paid me the clean the mirrors."

     "Who are you?"

     "Just a guy working for a check," Bowie shrugged, "You can leave now."

     "Yeah? Or what?" Scoffed the other, reaching for his walkie, "I'm calling this in."

     Bowie's hands twitched, "I wouldn't."

     There it was again. That twitch. That familiar fucking twitch he hadn't felt since he was eighteen.

     "Please, walk away." Bowie says.

     "You're under arrested, how does that sound?" Said the second, grabbing his wrist roughly, attaching the silver cuff against it.

     Bowie stared down at the hand wrapped firmly around his wrist, his face twisting just slightly. Without thinking — truly, no thoughts at all, as if he was on autopilot — Bowie slammed is other fist into the cops nose.

     "Aye!" His partner shouts, raising his gun.

     Without taking his eyes off the first man, Bowie catches the other's wrist, squeezing it so tight that he dropped the gun from his hands. Bowie used the other side of the cuff as a weapon, slashing it across the man's face.

     With a swift high kick the first man was knocked unconscious and with a rough slam of his fist the other dropped too.

     Bowie stood in the middle of the unconscious bodies, "That not good." He tells himself lowly, reaching up to rub a migraine forming.

     When Bowie ran back into the store the last thing he expected was for Sam to be on the ground, eyes bleeding and Dean nowhere to be found. His heart skipped with panic.

     "Sam!" He bellowed, skidding on his knees in front of him, grabbing at his face and not caring about the blood that soaked his hands, "Sammy?"

     Dean rushes forward, slamming a wrench into the mirror with a yell. The glade shatters at their feet.

     "Sammy? Are you okay?!" Dean knelt beside them.

     "It's Sam," The youngest corrected softly.

     Bowie didn't look nearly as happy, "Where the fuck were you?" He asked Dean.

     "I was looking for a wrench," Dean responds timidly, "Got here in time didn't I?"

     Bowie flares, nodding, "Come on, let's get him up." They lift Sam off the ground, making their way toward the door.

     "How'd you get rid of those cops?" Dean asked.

     "They'll wake up soon," Was all he said.

     The sound of glass crunching made everyone stop, slowly and nervously turning around to face what looked like Mary, accept decayed and flickering. She stood tall in front of them.

     "Absolutely not," Bowie shakes his head.

     Mary tilts her head, and Bowie reached up at the feeling of blood pooling from his eyes. His whole body felt like it was on fire, and slowly his grip released on Sam and the brothers dropped to the ground in front of her.

Dean used all his strength to lift up a mirror from the ground, facing it toward Mary, who began choking on her own blood.

Bowie reeled away in disgust as Mary's form glopped on the ground like liquid at his feet, the brothers stunned into silence.

"How'd you know that would work?" Bowie asked him.

"I didn't," Dean says honestly, "Hey. . .that's got to be like what, 600 years of bad luck?"

Bowie grinned a little, "That's gonna bite us in the ass later."

—

The Impala rolls to a stop in front of Charlie's house the next day, the girl looking beyond grateful that she made it through the night as she smiled kindly at the brothers. Bowie shared it, just barely.

"So this is really over?" She asked them, still not sure.

Dean nods, "Yeah, it's over."

"Thank you." She says, getting out of the car.

The brothers watched her leave.

"Hey, Charlie?" Sam calls out suddenly, "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."

Bowie hums at that, noticing Charlie's computer discarded on the floor, "Oh, wait, hey!"

He slides out of the backseat, jogging to meet her halfway on the step, "Here, you forgot this."

Slowly, Charlie takes it, pressing it against her chest. There was slight hesitation, her eyes narrowing at her thoughts before saying, "You really hate your job."

It was a firm statement, one that made Bowie pause as the teenager instantly tried backtracking.

"I didn't mean to over step—"

"You didn't." He sighed, rubbing at the back of his neck.

"It's just. . .I noticed it, the way you spoke to me after I told you about my ex, you were so kind but when we first met you were sorta brutal," She awkwardly chuckled, "Your job changes you, huh?"

"Yeah, yeah it does." He admits, looking down at his hands were his brothers blood still slightly stained, "It, um, making me into someone I don't wanna be." Makes me into John.

"Then maybe you should take your own advice," She says softly. He frowns, not understanding, "Get out of there, save yourself."

Bowie glanced back at the car, where Sam and Dean were talking to each other, "I tried that, it didn't last long."

"You should try again," She smiled suddenly, "You're a lot cuter when you aren't trying to snap someone's neck."

He gave a short chuckle, his face tinting slightly, "Thanks, but it's complicated."

"How so?" She pressed.

He felt his eyes water, but he wouldn't dare let himself cry, not anymore, "Because as long as my step-father is out there. . ."

". . .I can never get out."

[ this chapter was a little short
but I have a lot planned! ]
I might skip a few episodes so don't attack me if I don't do an episode you want! ALSO please start commenting on this story, it would be a great help <3 *if you read this far next chapter might be a flashback*