i hope you all enjoy this story!! it may seem a lil slow at first, but i had to get the basics of the fanfic down so you can understand later on.

ok, so just a little fyi, im not super amazingly smart when it comes to the supernatural, like the actual monsters, so if i mess up or use inaccurate information, let me know!

ENJOY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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Sam walked out from the bathroom with a towel wrapped loosely around his hips, his hand carrying his dirty clothes then throwing them in a corner. He had long since gotten used to his father and brother's needlessly unorganized ways of life, at least when it came to the simple things.

He was getting ready to grab a clean pair of clothes out of his duffel when he caught a sight of Dean's expression. He sat still across from Sam, on the bed, his eyes staring intently at the paper. Currently, it was something of confusion, a mixture of unexplained anger and ample agitation, like his mind was searching and searching for some sort of stored information, but just couldn't grasp it.

His hand wrapped lightly around his towel, Sam walked over to him and sat next to him, looking over his shoulder to see what the hell was his problem. A second after, Dean jumped up from his position on the bed, a look of pride etching his features. Apparently he had remembered what he had been previously been considering.

Sam rose an eyebrow, just staring, until Dean finally got off his damn pedestal and turned to face him. Sam spoke. "The hell's your problem?"

Dean rolled his eyes dramatically, a smirk beginning to play on his lips. "There isn't a problem, at least not anymore. I found our next hunt."

John had asked Dean last night to look up a hunt for them in the local newspaper, see if there was one nearby so they didn't have to move, probably for Sam's sake. It was usually John who found the hunts, and Dean took the job with great pleasure, a certain sense of pride filling up in him at the independence John was finally allowing him, Sam knew; he had seen it, like he saw everything about his brother. It was a given.

Too bad Dean wasn't the same way.

Not that he blamed Dean, of course. He had been taught from the best, and his lying ability surpassed any other 15 year old, he knew. He wondered if he was too good sometimes, like he would go to hell for it, along with everything else he had been born into. But no, he wouldn't blame Dean, not at all. And, if Dean did know...well, let's not go there. "What if's" don't have a place here, Dean wasn't going to find out, and that was that.

"So what's the hunt?" Sam asked casually, his expression much too innocent to be considered legal. Dean probably noticed the same thing, his eyes locking onto Sam's a mite longer than usual, then brought his eyes back to the paper.

"It's Bloody Mary."

Sam rose an eyebrow, tilting his head to one side in confusion. "Bloody Mary? Really?" He'd heard of her. You have to say "Bloody Mary" three times for her to appear, or so the legend goes, but that was really all he knew.

He was slacking.

Dean nodded, about to say something, when John knocks rapidly on the door four times. Dean put the newspaper down on the bed beside Sam, walking over to let the older man in. John held a bag of food in his hand, a newspaper in the other, and set it all down on a small table.

"You got a hunt for us, son?"

Dean nodded proudly. "Bloody Mary, sir." John smiled, probably already discovering her with his own use of the newspaper. But he was proud nonetheless, offering a firm grip on Dean's shoulder, shaking it lightly, a gesture Sam rarely received. Dean beamed at the silent gratification.

"All right, so what do we know about Bloody Mary?" John asked, his gaze suddenly focusing on Sam. Sam stuttered, knowing the question was directed at him, but was without a firm answer. He should know about Bloody Mary; hell, anything pertaining to bigass bitches or killing people was something that was to be located on the top of his "Necessary List of Life" list, required to be dully noted, completely learned and capable of repeat prior to the age of 10 .

Dean noticed Sam's pause, quickly working on a response. "Well, we know she materializes in mirrors if "Bloody Mary" is said three times in front of the mirror."

John nodded, his disappointment toward Sam not going unnoticed. Sam's head hung low, ashamed, but he couldn't help but feel a little excited about this hunt. It actually sounded kind of cool and, since he really didn't know about Bloody Mary, this could be a seriously good time to learn something new, instead of the same old shit.

"Okay, so she appears in mirrors, good. I also did a little talking around with some witnesses in the paper"- so John had already known about the Bloody Mary - "The person that calls for Bloody Mary isn't necessarily the person that gets killed."

Dean furrowed his eyebrows questioningly. "Really? I would've thought she'd take down whoever called her back. What, she just take down some bitch related to the person?"

John smiled knowingly. "You got it, son. But that's not all of it. She only goes after people with secrets. Big secrets."

Sam froze suddenly, his blood going cold and his brain turning to cooked spaghetti. What?! He wasn't liking this hunt as much as he thought he would, not at all. The blood suddenly drained from his face, and he could hear his heart beating, faster and faster. Dean and his dad, they couldn't know, couldn't find out. They'd hate him, think he was weak, useless.

Sam suddenly felt the urge to get out of the room, give himself some space, and quickly found he had a good excuse to do exactly that. He grabbed a fresh pair of clothes out of his duffel, suddenly self-conscious, then shuffeled into the bathroom without a word. He locked the door, being sure to turn the knob very quietly. It had always been a rule not to lock bathroom doors just in case something happened, but Sam didn't really think he would have a seizure between now and five minutes from now. It was just for him to take a breather, get away for a minute. Besides, what door could possibly keep a pissed off Winchester out when said Winchester wanted in?

Somehow feeling better at that thought, that they would fight for his survival if the time came- and it did, multiple times-Sam got dressed, pulling his jeans over his hips and zipping them up, then throwing on a shirt and hoodie. Several years ago, he had actually hated hoodies, or any type of jacket for that matter; he felt like it hindered him somehow, made it harder to move or react quickly.

However, since four years ago, that's all he's been able to wear.

He involuntarily shuddered, but ignored it as he looked at himself in the mirror. He looked a little gaunt, being told many times that he was "too goddamn skinny"- Dean's words, not his- and that he needed to start eating more. He did eat, though; he ate healthy. Didn't he?

Sam digressed. Maybe he didn't eat that much, but it was enough to make it through the day, and that was good enough for him.

With one final look in the mirror, he opened the door and stepped out to see Dean and John in the same positions as before, sitting on the separate beds as they discussed the significant details for their hunt, the ones that actually decided life or death.

Sam's glad someone did it, he never really thought to.

He went and sat down, fully-clothed now, next to Dean. If he wanted to be honest with himself, Sam would have to admit he didn't like coming out of the shower with only a towel but, even since before...it happened, he had always gotten into the habit of doing so. Dean and John would have noticed something was different if he stopped. It was a small change, but a change nonetheless, and they were damn good at spotting things that didn't belong.

And that he just couldn't allow.

Dean shifted beside him, still facing his father. "We can't just go into a woman's house guns ablazing. We need a better plan than that" Dean said, sounding exasperated. Apparently it wasn't going through to his dad yet. "And besides, we don't even know if a gun can kill the bitch, silver bullets or not."

John sat across from Dean, debating. He appeared somewhat unhappy that he hadn't considered all the aspects but, reluctantly, he nodded. "You're right, son, we need to think of something else." He looked at Sam pointedly, his gaze condescending. "Do you have anything you would like to bring to the table for Dean and me?"

Sam inwardly noticed his father's lack of Sam in the equation of Winchesters, just Dean and John, but wisely chose to ignore it. He wracked his head for something that would make his father proud, make him surprised at how bright his youngest had grown up to be. "Well, Bloody Mary is lured to people who have secrets, right? Maybe we could get someone with a secret to speak in front of the mirror..."

It wasn't until Sam's mouth finally shut did he realize the error in his words. Yes, he wanted his father's gratitude, he had craved for it nearly all his life. But if John knew what had happened, that gratitude would be out the window. Sam closed his eyes tightly before opening them again. He couldn't let them know what had happened four years ago, not now, not ever, and he wouldn't let it happen. This was a cross he carried on his own terms, something he would very possibly deal with the rest of his life but was more than willing to do so as long as his father and brother were kept in the dark. This was a burden he had put on himself, and he planned to deal with the repercussions on his own.

Sam internally nodded, once again his mind completely absorbing the idea of secrecy.

John pondered Sam's idea and, for what seemed like nothing Sam had never been on the receiving end of, nodded his head with slight admiration. "Good idea, Sam, we just need to find someone with a secret." He paused, eyeing his two sons auspiciously, as if hoping one of them actually did have something to hide to make this hunt a little easier.

Dean shook his head vigorously when John's eyes landed on Dean, then they shifted over and met Sam's hopefully innocent-looking expression. Sam shook his head, not quite as enthusiastically as Dean. "No sir."

John nodded after a moment and heaved a sigh before standing up. "All right, we'll discuss this more in the morning." Sam watched John nervously as he continued. "If we plan to kill this bitch we gotta get someone with a secret."

Sam nearly crumpled from the impact of his father's words, but he somehow managed to stay upright during the worst of it. His head felt like it was spinning but he couldn't get it to stop, and he was scared the slightest shake would make it explode. Thankfully, John hadn't been too skimpy with the motel choice of the month and got them a two-bedroom motel room for once. One less person to deal with in the vicinity, that was something Sam would more than gladly take.

John headed to his room, shuffling inside then closing the door behind him, a gruff, barely audible "Night" passing as a goodbye. Dean didn't make a move, just continued to sit there beside Sam, still as a statue. Whether he was thinking or just not in the mood to get up Sam wasn't positive. He just sat there quietly with Dean, side-by-side, unsure if he should say something.

Dean suddenly sighed, turning to Sam and ruffling his hair before getting up, heading over to his duffel. Sam cocked an eyebrow but said nothing, choosing to watch Dean kick off his jeans and shirt. He lifted a white, thin undershirt over his head, his muscles rippling with the movement, and pulled it over his head. Dressed for the night, he turned to face Sam to see Sam looking at him, then smiled deviously. "What? You like what you see?"

Sam could feel his eye twitch, his only voluntarily offered response being a look of disgust and the finger. Dean smirked at the reply, going over to Sam with a few large steps and, before Sam knew it, was picking him up bridal style in his arms, carrying him over to his own bed. Sam shivered under Dean's touch indeliberately, his mind bringing him back to four years ago.

He cursed himself vehemently before the images went too far. This was Dean they were talking about, nothing was going to happen to him.

Dean had noticed the shiver, fortunately mistaking it for a chill. "You cold, little bro?" Sam continued fighting off Dean half-heartedly, his adolescent behavior far from amusing. Well, maybe it was a little bit. A small smile played lightly on his face, and he wished it hadn't, because Dean saw it before he could properly recover. Dean's smirk grew wider and, with his big arms, threw Sam precisely in the middle of the bed. Dean plopped beside him a second later, beginning to snuggle up against Sam dramatically. "We could get real cozy, you and I" he said mockingly, as if they were damn lovers. He petted Sam's hair jokingly and Sam swatted the hand away.

"Stop being immature, Dean, go to bed." Even he could hear the underlying tone in his voice, and Dean, thankfully, backed off. He was getting itchy, like an itch you can't scratch. Maybe Dean's mock behavior was just too similar...

Dean pouted. "Fine, little brother" he said, getting up and slipping into his own bed. "I see it, but let me tell you. This is not over. This is war."

Sam tried to roll his eyes dramatically, to where Dean could see it in the dark, but his heart just wasn't into it. "Sorry, Dean, I had really never considered an incestuous relationship before. Sounds new and exciting." Dean snorted and turned on his side away from Sam. Sam looked up at the ceiling, his heart aching. His mind just kept wanting to take him back to their new hunt. With big secrets. What if Dean or John decided to try and summon Bloody Mary without telling him? Then she'd go after someone close to them with a secret, someone like...Shit.

Sam, suddenly depressed, lay on his back staring at the ceiling until unconsciousness finally took him over into the void.

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ok, so i hope that was a good start for this story! let me know what you think!!!!!