SEASON 1, EPISODE 19

Mara had always seen books as things of value. They more than made up for their cost in their worth, and in how much knowledge a single piece of paper could contain. In just one library there could be a lifetime's worth of information, or more, if a person deemed it necessary to scrawl that much information on scraps of looseleaf.

If they weren't advantageous to humans and supernatural beings alike for the information they contained, endless words of wisdom enclosed between two covers and a strip of binding, they were beautiful. As Mara stood in a New York library, using her finger to trace the letters of a book called 'A Tale of Two Cities', she couldn't help but stare, awestruck, at the way the sentences and phrases blended together to weave a story that had lasted through generations.

Her stupor of enchantment was broken when Dean Winchester, his eyebrows raised in curiosity, lifted the cover of Mara's book to read the title. Upon glancing at the front cover of the book, his brows furrowed in disapproval as he jested, "Really, Mara? 'A Tale of Two Cities'? For some reason, I don't think you're gonna find anything about Isaiah Merchant in there."

Mara closed the book that laid in her hands with a reluctant sigh, bidding farewell to the faded pieces of parchment as she slid it back into its place on the shelf. She wished she could hold that book in her hands forever. Or, at least, for however long it would take her to read it. As a reaper, she'd never been granted the privilege of leisurely reading. Even now, with her reaper duties far behind her, she had to disregard the beautifully stringed together words for a hunting mission.

It seemed that was how the Winchesters worked, though - all work and no play. They'd hardly left the shopping center when they'd driven to the nearest library, with no purpose but to conduct research for the case they were letting Mara help with: a painting that had a vengeful spirit attached to it. Mara hadn't even known it was possible for a spirit to attach itself to an object, and on top of that, the painting they'd burned the night before had reappeared in the auction house. The reappearance did nothing but make the whole situation more confusing for Mara and more anxiety-inducing for the Winchesters.

"Come on," Dean suggested, brushing his hand against Mara's shoulder in an attempt to draw her attention away from the shelves of books. "We're gonna look in the local history section while Sam and Kat talk to the librarian."

Mara followed Dean as he sauntered over to the back corner of the library. She couldn't help but notice how he held his broad shoulders, straight and pushed back as if he held all the confidence in the world between his two shoulder pads. Mara straightened her own shoulders, wondering if that's how humans were supposed to walk.

When they reached the shelves of books labeled 'Local History', Dean's steps slowed to an abrupt stop, causing Mara to stumble over her own feet as she tried to avoid walking into Dean. Perhaps she'd been following him a little too closely.

"What would it be under?" Dean mumbled under his breath, his eyes focused on the rows of books in front of him as he ran a finger along their spines. "'Murder' maybe? 'Local wackjobs'? Oh, what am I thinking...with a name like Isaiah, it's gotta be under 'sociopaths'."

Mara tilted her head, her brows furrowed in an all-too familiar sign of her own confusion. "I don't think it will be under any of those."

"I know, Mara, it's a joke," Dean replied.

He bent down to peer at a row of books that was closer to the ground, and after choosing a rather large publication with hardback binding, he rose back to his full height and turned his gaze to the reaper that stood next to him. "You've never done research before, have you?"

Mara shook her head, and Dean nodded as if that one movement answered a million questions. He held the book he'd grabbed out for Mara to take, and she did so, obliging to his wordless request to hold it for him as he searched for more books to look through. Once Dean and Mara both held multiple books in their arms, Dean led the reaper to an empty table where she seated herself in a chair, her hair falling over her shoulder like drops of fresh honey trickling down a honeycomb. Dean took the books out of her arms and set them in a pile in front of her.

"First lesson of Researching 101," he began as he took a seat across from Mara. "Look through local history and lore."

He took a book from the heaping stack of novels that lie in front of him, his stare studious and careful as he began to flip through its pages. Mara did the same, following Dean's lead as she'd been doing with the rest of the Winchesters all day, but it didn't take long for her attention to waver. She found herself getting distracted from the words in front of her by every move Dean made. The flick of his fingers as he turned a page. A huff of air leaving his nostrils as he began to grow frustrated with the lack of information he was finding. The gold flecks in his eyes as he glanced at the long sentences in front of him. She'd been so desperate to look through the library's books before - why was she developing an inattentive attitude now?

Finally, Dean leaned back in his chair and rubbed his hands in circles over his eyes, giving Mara a chance to speak to him instead of simply watch him from afar. She leaned slightly forward and parted her lips to speak as she uttered, "Are you alright?"

"Yeah," Dean nodded, rocking forward as he rested his elbows on the wooden table. "You know, you don't really act like a reaper. I mean, other than pulling your pants down in public and looking at books like they saved your life. Sam does that sometimes too, though."

She wanted to ask what he thought a reaper should act like, but she decided against it, finding that she really didn't want to know. Judging by his previous insistence that she should not join him and his siblings on their hunt, she surmised that his assumptions about her kind were not pleasant. Instead, she opted to relish in the hidden compliment of his statement, saying, "Which one?" Dean hadn't been very clear about whether Sam undressed himself in public or gazed lovingly at books. Given the incident from the Dillard's dressing room, Mara figured it was the latter of the two, but she hadn't known undressing in front of others was wrong before she'd done it herself, so she couldn't say for sure that Sam didn't do it either.

Dean's expression warmed as a smirk crept onto his face. "Both."

Dean and Mara's laughter was instantaneous. Their faces lit up at the same time, their lips spreading in teeth-baring smiles that matched the smile of the other. As Dean's deep chuckle began to slow, he reached forward and straightened the baseball cap that rested on Mara's head, his emerald gaze gentle as it washed over the reaper's soft features. Though his laughter had long since ceased and his joke had fallen flat many moments prior, he still wore an amused grin on his face as he said, "You aren't half bad."

◈◈◈

"You seriously told her she wasn't half bad?"

Mara's eyes fluttered open. The Winchesters, Mara, and woman named Sarah had just finished burning Isaiah Merchant's bones. After countless hours of tedious research and many failed attempts, they'd finally discovered that it was in fact Isaiah's spirit that had tethered itself to the painting of his family, and they'd made it their top priority to burn his remains. It was an enlightening experience for Mara, as she'd never seen the ritual done in person, but she couldn't help but feel sympathetic towards Sarah. She hadn't even known what hunters were before she'd insisted that the Winchesters let her hunt with them. Mara supposed she felt a responsibility for the lives Isaiah Merchant took, because she'd been the one to sell the painting in the first place.

"Shut up," Dean grunted. Mara couldn't see his face, but she saw his hand as he reached out to turn the volume up on the Impala's radio.

Mara closed her eyes again. From what she could gather, Sam and Dean thought she was sleeping(which she had been, once she discovered they were taking another long drive to the house the painting resided in), so they were having a conversation about her while she remained ignorant to what they were saying. The only problem with their logic was the forgotten fact that a reaper's body didn't require sleep, so it had only taken one word from Sam to wake Mara from her light slumber.

"Dude. You have the hots for a dead girl. Man, I knew you were losing your game, but I didn't know it was that bad," Sam teased, causing Mara to close her eyes more tightly to ensure that he wouldn't know she'd awoken. She hoped Sarah and Kat hadn't seen her open her eyes, either, because they would be sure to say something about it and ruin Mara's cover.

Mara felt her face warm with the red hues of embarrassment, the same way it had when Dean stared at her in the Dillard's dressing room. It didn't bother her that Sam had called her a 'dead girl'. She couldn't expect anything more from a hunter, especially since they didn't know her that well. What unsettled her enough to turn her cheeks a different color was the fact that Sam claimed Dean had "the hots" for her. Mara didn't know exactly what that meant, but she knew enough from overhearing Dean's words over the past few months to know there was some implicit romantic meaning behind it, and she knew enough from her own common sense to realize that Sam's words couldn't be true.

Nonetheless, she continued to pretend she was asleep as Dean snapped a retort towards his brother. "She's not dead. Being a reaper is not the same as being dead."

The Impala suddenly slowed to a halt, and Mara felt Kat's gentle hand on her shoulder. "Mara, wake up," she whispered. "We're here."

Finally, Mara allowed her eyes to open, praying that the red blush on her cheeks was no longer evident. She didn't know what to think of Sam's jokes and Dean's sensitive responses, and she didn't even want to think about it. All she wanted was to finish the hunt like they were meant to.

"Mara," Sam said as he knocked on the window that was closest to her. "Let's go. We have a painting to burn."

◈◈◈

Walking through the corridors of a dead woman's house was more unnerving than Mara thought it would be. She thought it was all of the possessions the poor woman left behind - a sofa, rows of old records that were tearing at the corners, a locket with a picture of a young man inside - all things the woman, Evelyn, had to leave behind when the spirit of Isaiah Merchant attacked her. Or, perhaps, it was the way Evelyn left this world. Even though her soul had made its way up to heaven - Mara had seen her reaper take it there, after all - she'd died due to a gruesome beheading.

However, as Mara entered the room where the painting still hung on its ivory mantle, she realized that it wasn't the things Evelyn left behind that sent an unsettling current through Mara's veins.

"Sam?" Sarah asked, her voice wavering as she turned her body in towards the younger Winchester. "You're the expert on all this ghost stuff. Is that painting supposed to look like that?"

Beneath the oils and dust that lied on the surface of the painting, there was a gaping hole. A gaping hole where, as Sam was quick to mention, a little girl used to stand.

A laugh echoed through the empty house, and Mara's shoulders straightened. She'd known there was something wrong with this house. Something unnatural, something evil. She'd felt it from the moment she'd passed through the doorway, but she'd mislabeled it as all the stuff Evelyn and left behind. But now, as the haunting and invisible laugh still resonated through her ears, she realized so clearly what she'd blindly ignored before: Sam and Sarah were not the only souls left in Evelyn's house.

The front door slammed shut, and Mara's heart began to race. She had to do something. Anything. Sam wouldn't be able to handle this spirit on his own, and she feared Sarah wouldn't be much help, either.

All of a sudden, like the blinking beam of lighthouse in the distance, she remembered something: Dean and Kat had stayed back in the Impala. Surely three hunters would have a better chance at eliminating the little girl's spirit. She would have to warn them, and get them to come help before it was too late.

In the blink of an eye, she had transported herself into the passenger's seat of the Impala. She ignored the surprised looks on Dean's and Kat's face as, breathless, she said, "In the house...it wasn't Isaiah, it was his daughter Melanie...Dean, you have to -"

Before she could even get the words out of her mouth, Dean was out of the Impala and at Evelyn's front door, with Kat not far behind. In his rush, Dean stumbled into the front door. Kat frantically pulled out her phone and dialed a number that Mara could only assume was Sam's.

"Sam?" Kat's worried voice spoke into the receiver.

Dean began meddling with the lock on the door, his shoulders hunched as he shouted, "Please tell me you slammed the door!"

When Sam shouted that he hadn't been the one to shut the door, it sent Kat and Dean into a frenzy. She'd never seen the Winchesters so anxious before, and despite Mara's yearning to help ease their worry, she couldn't do anything to help. She was only a reaper. Reapers couldn't even begin to compete with spirits. The only thing that could help Sam was if he listened to Sarah's words, if he believed her when she said the spirit's hair might still be on its childhood doll.

When they finally figured out a solution to their problem, Mara was relieved. A weight was lifted off her shoulders, and it was a feeling she'd never felt before. She'd never felt a connection like this before, a necessity to protect the Winchesters above anything else, even though she was far from a guardian angel. When Mara found herself back in the Impala with Dean and Kat, eyes keeping a watchful gaze on the road as they sped to the mausoleum to save Sam and Sarah, she knew without a doubt that it was that obligation that made her rebel against Azazel and Meg. It was that flaming passion deep inside that she felt for every single one of the Winchesters, the only humans who'd ever accepted her as one of their own, that gave her the power to flee the devil's trap without Meg's permission.

And, when she entered the mausoleum, Kat and Dean at her side just as they'd been for the past couple days, she knew her love for them was the reason she felt glee at watching the hairs on the spirit's doll go up in flames. If that was truly the last of the spirit that was attacking Sam, then that meant every one of the Winchesters were safe from harm. And that's all she ever wanted.