The Witching Hour

For several long moments, Sam stared into the silver eyes, his mind whirring a hundred miles an hour. The girl blinked, and when she looked back at him, he could see a hint of confusion on her face. The flashlight moved as she sat back on her haunches.

"Did Lisa send you?" she asked again, her voice a little less panicked than it had been the first time. Sam swallowed hard, his heart just now beginning to slow, and he gave a quick nod.

"Yeah, yeah she did-"

"Damn it," she groaned, dropping her face into her hand and pinching the bridge of her nose. Before Sam could ask, the girl's head turned and she called, "Lights!"

The auditorium was flooded with dim yellow lights, and Sam gasped when he recognized the silver-eyed girl.

"Reagan?" he breathed, more than genuinely shocked; her eyes had been blue just a few hours ago. Even now, he could see the gleam of silver in her gaze as she looked him over. She stood slowly, an irritated scowl beginning to spread over her face.

"That's my name," she shot, tucking the flashlight away and crossing her arms over her chest. "It was Sam, right? Rachel's... cousin?"

"Uh, yeah- yeah that's right," Sam confirmed as he all but scrambled to his feet. He tucked his shaking hands into his pockets hastily as he came forward, eyes locked on hers. She raised a brow and took a precautionary step back. "What are you doing here?"

Reagan's semi-scowl intensified, and she took another step back, looking Sam over uneasily.

"I think I'm in more of a position to be asking that question."

Sam opened his mouth to reply, but cut off when he heard footsteps come onto the stage. Becca's face was also pulled into a mistrusting grimace; she paused next to Reagan, and Sam tensed slightly. Shoulder-to-shoulder, they looked like a force to be reckoned with.

"Who're you?"

"Rachel's cousin. Sam."

Becca lifted one skeptical eyebrow, and she glanced at Reagan. Reagan looked down at Becca, and the side of her lip quirked just a bit. Either they were crazy good at silent communication, or the paranormal had a lot more to do with this than he thought. He watched as Reagan gave a pointed blink; Becca let out a soft snort, and then turned back to Sam.

"Right. We'll go with that. Now, like Rea said, what are you doing here?"

Sam, conveniently, hadn't thought of anything to tell the girls if he'd been caught. Because really, he hadn't been expecting to have a conversation with the possessed-in-question. But now both girls were staring him down; he wasn't sure what they were capable of, and he knew he wasn't in a position to challenge them. So, he improvised.

"Rachel was worried about you, you know, how you left dinner and all that," he explained quickly, his voice just barely staying steady. "And then you never came back, and she thought something might have happened-"

"But it was Lisa that sent you," Reagan pointed out mildly, staring at Sam. Her voice didn't hold any accusation, though; more curiosity than anything. Sam nodded slowly.

"Rachel wouldn't ask me to go, but Lisa knew she was worried. She told me where you might be, so I figured I'd check here and then head back."

The girls stared at Sam for several moments; they didn't blink, and hardly seemed to breathe. Only when Sam took a step back and started to retreat just a bit did Reagan break the silence. She walked forward half a step, her eyes seeming to burn through Sam.

"Are you here to hurt us?"

Sam shook his head slowly.

"Are you here to report us to the authorities?"

Sam frowned, puzzled, but shook his head again. Reagan looked back over her shoulder at Becca; again, they exchanged a brief and almost unnoticeable exchange of looks. When Reagan turned back to him, both girls seemed to relax simultaneously.

"So what lie did Lisa feed you?" Becca asked, a hint of amusement in her voice now. As she stepped closer to Reagan, the light caught her eyes, and again his heart skipped a beat. Even in the poor lighting, they seemed to shine a magnificent burnt orange. Reagan had taken his silence as a refusal to answer; Becca backed down as Reagan began to pace.

"Well let's see," she mused, almost humoring Sam with her slow deduction. "Probably not drug trafficking. I'm not getting the 'undercover good-guy cop" vibe."

"Not prostitution," Becca added, and both girls laughed. "No offers or awkward questions. Although, the night is young," she mused, making both girls snicker. Sam stared at the pair of them, thoroughly confused.

"No, I think she's circled back to possession," Reagan said; she must have caught the flash of surprise on Sam's face, because she grinned and turned to Becca. "Yep. It's official, Lisa's claiming we're in a cult again."

"Well she's a little late. Halloween was last week. We could've dressed up, gone full-out and went for a fake ritual or something." she turned to Reagan, humor lighting up her orange gaze. "You need to brush up on your Latin."

Reagan snorted to herself as Sam finally stepped forward and cut in.

"Okay, what's going on here?"

Reagan turned her attention back to Sam, and she rolled her eyes, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a small, palm-sized notebook.

"Lisa's possessive," she explained, glancing up from the pages to stare at Sam. "Even you had to have seen the way she treated me when I showed up. Controlling me, running my life. She hates me, but she doesn't want me to be happy."

"Why?" Sam asked, the fear and unease all but gone from him, thoroughly replaced with confusion and curiosity; Reagan shrugged and went back to studying the notebook.

"I put up with it for a while, because Rachel was my only friend, and I didn't want to risk losing her. She made my life miserable; I couldn't do anything without her consent, or she'd freak out on me. She had to know where I was, what I was doing, and who I was talking to. I just couldn't take it anymore, and Becca and I were growing closer, so I started spending more time with her. Lisa, of course, doesn't like that. Every few months, she decides Becca and I are too happy, or things are going too well, so she starts convincing people we're up to something."

"Last semester, we were under house arrest because she had half the professors and the counseling department convinced we were in a drug trafficking ring, and I was the leader," Becca told Sam, bitterness sharpening her voice. Reagan passed him the notebook and tapped one of the pages.

"She called a few undercover cops and had them pose as substitute teachers, and follow us around. Lisa kept feeding them lies, and then suddenly some 'evidence' turned up. She led us right into a trap, and we got ourselves on lockdown. Once they realized we weren't dealers, they left. That was right before Halloween."

Sam studied the pages, reading more and more. Various dates, all just about a month apart, were jotted down, and Sam could see a pattern emerging.

8/16 - Becca's running a demonic cult and we sold our souls to the devil
9/8 - Becca's tricked me into prostitution and I'm being sold to a human trafficking ring
10/15 - Becca's tricked me into selling drugs for her, and I'm trapped in drug trafficking

"I write them down on the days they started, or at least the days I caught on," Reagan explained. "She's crazy. She just can't leave us alone. She's threatened by my friendship with Becca, and she'll do what she can to get rid of us."

"I'll admit, I'm losing faith in her sanity as we speak," Sam said quietly. "But we still have some loose ends-"

"Let me guess, you're either a priest, or a paranormal investigator."

Sam glanced at Becca, but before he could answer, his phone went off. He jumped from surprise, and both girls rolled their eyes. Becca jumped off stage, and Reagan went back to pacing as Sam turned away.

"Sammy," Dean said, almost relieved. "Find anything?"

"Yeah, Dean, I'm a little busy," Sam cut in quickly. "I'll fill you in when I get back."

When Sam turned around, he nearly jumped out of his skin; Reagan was just inches from him.

"Investigators, then," she decided, her eyes burning into his. Sam took a step back and cleared his throat. Against his better judgement, he gave a brisk nod. "And you've seen things, haven't you? Those are the loose ends. And you're not leaving until you get this case wrapped up, are you?"

She held no malice in her voice, only guarded curiosity. Sam stared down at her, his mind whirling as he tried to decipher her. He gave another slow nod, and Reagan backed down.

"We've got things to take care of tonight, so don't bother hitting redial and giving Dean some secret code word to get him down here," she said pointedly. Sam, reluctantly, put the phone back into his pocket and frowned. "Do you just want to talk?"

"I guess you could say that," Sam reasoned, and Reagan's silver gaze hardened.

"Come back in the morning, with Dean. And only Dean. We'll talk, and we'll tell you what you need to know. But you need to follow a few rules."

"Such as?" he asked, raising a brow.

"Don't hunt anything on this campus. Don't chase any shadows, don't go trying to do any surprise exorcisms, and keep that rock salt away from here," she added, nodding to the gun in his waistline. "I'm serious, Sam."

"I won't go looking for trouble," he told her slowly. "But I'm not just going to play dead and let others get hurt."

"I promise nothing will happen tonight," she told him. "Nothing that you'll need to protect yourself from."

Sam stared at her for a moment, his eyes studying her expression; she didn't waiver.

"Is that really a promise that you can keep?"

"Yes," she told him without hesitation, and Sam raised both his brows at her response. She turned away, and as he went to call her back, Becca gave a whistle.

"Heads!"

Sam just barely caught his flashlight that Becca hurled in his direction. As he fumbled to secure it, Reagan began to usher him off the stage.

"Come back tomorrow, seven sharp," she said as Sam allowed himself to be led to the side door he'd come in from. "We'll be here if you and Dean want to talk."

It was clear she didn't want any more discussion tonight, but before he let her shut the door, he turned and locked eyes with her.

"Can I trust you?"

Reagan was quiet for a moment as she studied Sam, and as she let out a breath, her eyes darted to the side. When she looked back, her eyes were a soft sapphire blue; Sam sucked in a surprised breath, but Reagan's answer cut off his incoming question.

"You can trust me."

And just as she was shutting the door, Sam looked through the crack, and his heart nearly stopped.

Becca stood back by the stage, but her attention wasn't on Reagan; it was on a tall, brown shadow looming over her. It leaned forward, and Becca shook her head.

"Not tonight. Leave them alone. We can't risk them getting any more suspicious."

The door slammed shut, and Sam stumbled back.

This couldn't be good.