(Scene Change) Dean and Mallory make their way back to a very uncomfortable looking Sam. He stands up quickly and gives them a, "I will kill you later" look. Derek stands up as well.

"Did you find anything that you needed?" Derek asked.

"I think so," Dean said cheerfully. "Thank you so much for your help. If we need anything else, I'm sure Agent Spencer could give you a call."

Sam shot Dean a death glare then turned and laughed nervously, already making his way to the door.

"Okay," Derek said, following them to the door. "Don't hesitate to call if you need anything else!"

(Scene Change) They are walking out to the Impala.

"Please tell me I didn't suffer through that for nothing."

Dean held up a letter and a picture. "No, Sammy. You didn't."

(Scene Change) They pull up to another house. It is now nighttime and only the porch light is on. They go and check the front door. Dean knocks on the door while Mallory and Sam walk around back to the back door. They meet back together on the front porch after seeing that Mark is not there. They are not standing on the porch long when they see a car pull up into the driveway. A middle aged man gets out of his car, not seeing them on the porch. When he notices them, his face goes pale and he backs up against the car. They move slowly towards him.

"He's gonna bolt," Sam noted.

"Yep."

Suddenly, Mark took off down the street. Dean and Sam tore down the porch steps, Mallory pulled herself over the balcony railing, and they chased after him. She cut him off and grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him to the ground. Seconds later, Sam and Dean came up behind them. Mallory was holding his arms behind his back as he struggled to free himself.

"Errff! Get off!" He grunted. Mallory eased up, allowing him to sit up. The three of them circled around him.

"Why'd you run Mark?" Dean smirked. A look of regret and guilt washed over his face and he said nothing.

(Scene Change)They are sitting in his house. Mark is running his hands through his hair.

"I... I never meant for it to happen..." he started.

"What? The affair, or her death?" Dean asked harshly.

"Her death was an accident! I swear!" Mark cried.

"That night, she told me that she wanted to end things. She felt too guilty..."

(Show flashback to the night of her death)Mark and Rachel are on the shore of the lake, arguing.

"I've told Richard..." Rachel said, with tears in her eyes.

"Why did you tell him?!" Mark demanded.

"I can't do this anymore! To him... To Derek."

Crying, she started to walk away from. "Rachel, wait-" He reached out and grabbed her arm, but she pulled away and started walking faster. He grabbed her again with more force.

"Let go!" She jerked away, losing her footing on the loose gravel. She fell, knocking her head on a large rock at the edge of the water.

"Rachel!" Mark bent down and grabbed her. Blood flowed freely from her head and seeped into the water. Mark looked around in a panic.

(Flashback to Mark telling the story)

"I didn't know what else to do. I felt too guilty to bring her back to Richard... I-I just dragged her into the lake. I was a coward... Richard killed himself a day later. It's all my fault." He broke down into tears.

The three were silent for a moment, unsure of what to say.

"Mark..." Mallory finally said. "Rachel is still hurting people. She can't rest because of what happened."

"I know," he choked. "I see her. All the time, at the lake."

"What do you mean?" Sam asked.

"Almost every night, I drive out there. I don't get out of my car, but I see her. In the water, like she's waiting for me. I thought I was going crazy at first, but-"

"Does she ever say anything to you? Or come towards you or anything?"

"No.. she just waits."

"Do you ever say anything to her?"

"No...I never get out of my car...I just go to see if she's still there."

"Mark, we think Rachel is a Rusalka... an angry spirit who can't rest because of her death," Dean explained. "We might need your help in order to get rid of her."

Mark looked worried. "What? What do you mean- what would I have to do?"

"We're not exactly sure," Mallory said. "We don't know much about them. But we need to find a way to get rid of her spirit, and you might be the key to that."

"How?"

Mallory looked uneasy. "We're still trying to figure that out."

(Scene Change) They are sitting in a motel room, around a table. It is late at night.

"If avenging Rachel's death is the only way to get rid of her, we can't just just kill the guy," Sam lamented.

They sat quiet for a minute. "You're right," Mallory said. "It was too easy for me last time facing a Rusalka. I never had the opportunity to see if there was another way to kill her."

"Then we'll just look into the lore more," Dean said. "We kind of just came into this without knowing a whole lot. There's gotta be something."

"You're right," Sam agreed. "We should get some sleep..."

"I can take the couch," Mallory offered.

"You sure?" Sam asked.

Mallory looked at the couch. "Do you honestly think you'd fit on that thing? I'm fine."

"Fair enough."

(Scene Change) Sam is lying in his bed, arms behind his head, still wide awake. He hears a rustle in the corner of the room. He sits up to see Mallory, lying on the couch. She looks anxious and sweaty, like she's having a nightmare. Sam gets up and slowly walks up towards her. He reaches out his hand to grab her shoulder, but she suddenly bolts up, awake. She grabs his outstretched arm with a strength that surprises Sam.

"Sorry," she says, panting. A look of something like terror is painted across her face.

"Are you okay?" He asks with genuine concern, and slight fear.

Mallory didn't look at him, distracted with her thoughts. "Yes... I'm sorry," She realized that she still had a hold of his wrist and lets go.

Sam bent down, their faces now at similar levels. He looked unsure of what to say, but goes ahead with his thoughts. "If you... I don't know, want to talk about it, you can. We've all been through Hell here. You're not alone..."

"I don't want to talk about it. Not today." She laid back down, ending the conversation. Sam, looking slightly hurt, stood up and walked back to his bed, massaging his wrist.

(Scene Change) The three are at a diner, it is the next morning. Sam and Mallory are stilling next to each other in a booth, Dean on the other end. Sam is sitting near the window. Dean is browsing the internet.

"Here we go.... There's a couple of different options. If a Rusalka's hair dries, it dies..."

"Speaking as a girl with long hair, that could take some time... What's the other one?"

"They die if they are too far away from the water."

A waitress interrupts them when she brings them food. Sam whips out the salt on the table and sprinkles it on his food. "You want some?" He asks Mallory.

"Ooh, yeah. Thanks." She grabs it and sprinkles it on her food.

Dean shoots him a "What the hell is your problem" look.

Sam clears his throat, "Mallory, do you mind if I get passed you? I need to use the little hunters room," he chuckles anxiously.

"Sure thing man."

Dean watches Sam leave then gets up. "I'll be right back..."

"Whatevs."

Sam is waiting for him in the bathroom.

"Really dude?" Dean asked in annoyance. "Checking to see she's possessed by a ghost. Real subtle."

"What, did you want me to ask the waitress for a cast iron pan and hit her over the head with it. So she doesn't have an aversion to salt. Just covering my bases."

"No, you're acting like a paranoid weirdo. If you want to know so damn bad, then why don't you just ask her!" he huffed then started to walk out.

"Wait, something's happened the past two nights."

"What do you mean?"

"Back at the bunker, She was awake in the middle of the night. She had been crying-"

"Where are you going with this?"

"At first, I thought it was just a nightmare like she said, but last night, She was asleep but obviously having a nightmare... when I reached out to wake her up, she woke up before I could touch her and grabbed my wrist. It was like she knew I was going to touch her and woke up before I could do it."

"Oookay.."

Sam sighed in frustration and pushed up his jacket sleeve. His wrist was slightly bruised. Dean's demeanor changed and he looked worried.

"She did that?"

"Yeah... Dean, even if she doesn't mean us any harm, there's definitely something fishy about this. I mean, no one that size should be that strong and it seems like she has chronic nightmares, probably about some pretty messed up stuff."

"Did she tell you what they were about?"

"She said she didn't want to talk about it."

They looked through the open bathroom door at Mallory. She was sitting at the table, speaking with the waitress.

Dean turned back to Sam. "We'll find out soon enough. Maybe it just has to be when she's ready to open up."

They walked back over to the table sitting down.

"Okay boys," She said eagerly. "I've got a plan to clear this whole thing up.... also, our super old waitress wanted your number, Dean."

"Wait, what? You didn't give it to her, did you?"

"Of course, she looked lonely," Mallory grinned and bit down on a piece of her waffle, ignoring Dean's annoyed face.

Sam laughed, "We can always trade and you can have Derek's number." Dean was not amused by that comment either. He turned his head to see the old waitress look at him and wave; he grimaced and pushed his food away from him. "I don't want this anymore."

"Oh, goodie," Mallory pulled the plate towards her. "Split the bacon?" She asked Sam.

"Please."

(Scene Change) It is evening again. Sam and Mark are walking down to the lake, Sam is on the phone, talking to dean.

(Scene Change) Dean and Mallory are outside of the Impala, on the road, a further distance away from the lake. In her hand, she is holding a long iron rod.

"The last group of people just left. We'll be at the shoreline in about five," Sams says.

"Sounds good. We'll be on the lookout." Dean hung up the phone.

"You think this will work?" He asked Mallory.

"No idea... but it should still be pretty exciting."

"Right. I feel comforted now."

(Scene Change)Sam and Mark are at the shoreline.

"Sam, I don't feel so good about this," Mark said, looking worried.

"It'll be fine. Nothing is going to happen to you."

They looked out onto the water.

"There!" Mark pointed to a bump sticking out of the water.

Sam tensed and pulled out a iron rod for good measure.

Back on the water, the bump was gone.

Mark squinted. "Where did-" He fell to the ground, screaming. Sam whipped around to see a beautiful young woman with dark hair that was so long, it dragged on the ground. She was pale and soaking wet in a loose white dress. A chunk of her hair had wrapped around Mark's ankle.

Sam lunged with the rod, but she was already gone. Mark continued to scream. Dark hair was now wrapped around his head, pulling him into the water. Rachel was waist deep in the water, pulling him in with a giddy look in her eyes. Sam struck down on the length of hair with the rod. Rachel screamed and released her grasp on Mark. Sam helped Mark up and pulled him away from the shore. They sprinted away from the lake, making their way to the road. Rachel followed them, Her image shifting like a ghost; she disappeared from view.

(Scene Change) Dean and Mallory are still sitting on the truck of the impala. Dean looks over at her.

"Dean, if you want to talk about feelings and crap, save it."

"I didn't say anything!"

She meets his eyes. "You didn't have to. I know Sam told you about my nightmares."

Dean put his head down. "Look, it's fine if you don't want to talk about it. But it doesn't help if you keep it bottled up. You'll have to talk about it with someone at some time."

"Why do I get the feeling that you aren't very good at following your own advice?" She said with a hint of frustration.

"This isn't about me. It's about you. Mal, Sam and I hardly know you, but we want to help."

"...Or you don't really trust me and you want to find out more."

Dean looked taken aback but tried to cover it up. "We trust you-"

"-Sam doesn't seem to."

"Sam's just hesitant whenever we get mixed up with other hunters. You never know what crap they bring along with them," he lied.

She looked at him with stubborn eyes. "...Fine. What do you want to know? My dad's always been in and out of the picture for ages, but still manages to be a total jackass. My mom was killed about ten years ago, but I really couldn't say a whole lot of great things about her either. I've been on my own most of my life, so forgive me for not being too quick to open up about my greatest, deepest secrets."

"Well," Dean scoffed. "That was a good start. Don't you feel better?" He said in an attempt to lighten the mood.

Mallory laughed bitterly. "Ha, well that's all you're getting for now."

"It's better than nothing."

"...I don't really open up to people well," she confided.

(Scene Change) Show Sam and Mark running up the road. Mark is falling somewhat behind, his pace slowing.

"Hey! Hey hey-" Sam turned and pulled on his shoulder. " We gotta go-" He looked behind them. Nothing was there.

Sam whipped his head, looking for Rachel. Her image suddenly shifted into view in front of them. She lunged at Sam and pushed him with unnatural strength. He landed about ten feet away, the air knocked out of him.

She stopped in front of Mark, her expression changed and she gently smiled at him. Mark was frozen in fear as she reached up at touch his face.

Without Mark noticing at first, her hair quietly wrapped itself around his neck. By the time he noticed, she was already choking him, maintaining her smile.

Sam came up behind her, striking her on the head with the rod. She disappeared once again. Sam grabbed Mark and they kept running.

(Scene Change)Back to Mallory and Dean at the Impala.

"What about you, huh? I don't know anything about you or Sam. I bet you guys have a few good stories to tell. Please don't tell me I'm the only crazy one here."

Dean smiled, but quickly turned serious when he heard yelling. "Here they come."

In the distance, Sam and Mark are making their way to the car, in a dead sprint. Nothing is following them.

"Crap, she's not with them," Mallory said. "Dean!"

Rachel appeared beside Dean, her hair wrapping around his neck. He grasped at the hair, trying desperately to tear it away. Mallory swung at her head with the rod. Her image shifted again and she disappeared. Mallory grabbed the car keys that had fallen out of his pocket and helped him up. Dean coughed, and rubbed his red, chapped neck.

"Get in the car!" She yelled at Sam and Mark who had stumbled up to them.

(Scene Change) Mallory turns on the car, Dean is in the passenger seat. Sam and Mark are in the back, panting. She pulls out and drives down the road.

"Why are you driving?" Sam asked Mallory.

"Because Dean can't breathe at the moment," She replied. "Woah!" Mallory said in surprise. Sitting next to Mark, Rachel appeared, now looking more gaunt and less wet. She reached her hands around Mark trying to choke him. Sam grabbed the iron rod about to hit her with it.

"Wait!" Dean said hoarsely. "Mal step on it!"

Mallory sped down the road. Mark and Sam were still fighting Rachel off, but she was getting weaker. She got a hold of his throat, clamping down on it with blind fury in her eyes. Mallory pulled the car out onto the main road and sped down it. Rachel's image started to shift again and her grip relaxed.

She let go of Mark and started at her hands, screaming. Suddenly, her body imploded, turning into water, leaving a puddle on the seat.

Mallory slowed the car to a stop. Sam and Mark were the back, breathing heavily. Mallory grinned at Dean. "You see, that was exciting!"

(Scene Change) They are outside of Mark's house.

"I owe you guys everything," Mark said humbly. He shook Sam and Dean's hand. Mallory reached up and gave him a hug.

"Just stay out of trouble," Dean said.

"... And you should probably never tell anyone what just happened," Mallory piped in.

Mark laughed. "You can count on it."

(Scene Change) Back at the bunker, it is early morning. Mallory is in the kitchen, making breakfast. She is wearing a loose gray v neck and comfy sweatpants, her wavy hair is pulled up into a ponytail. Dean shuffles into the kitchen, wearing pj's and yawning.

"Hey, dude," She says casually.

"What are you making? Wimpy ass pancakes?"

She laughed. "No, they're crepes. Way better than pancakes."

He sat down at the island counter. "I'm not eating French food.... it's French."

"Come on, you baby. I'll have you know that I am a professional crepe maker. I learned a thing or two when I spent a few months in Nice."

"Oh yeah. Where's your professional crepe making certificate?"

She handed him a plate with crepes and strawberries on it. "Just shut up and try it."

Dean shoveled some into his mouth. "Mmm..K, fine. You win." He chowed down on them and looked up at her curiously. On her neck, behind her left ear was a pink scar in a particular shape. It was about an inch long and looked oddly familiar.

"Is that a birthmark?" He asked.

She reached up to her ear, suddenly looking self conscious.

"Sorry, that was rude."

"Nah, you're good." she said, slightly blushing. "Yeah, it's a birthmark. I usually try to keep it hidden.... but didn't want my hair to get into the batter," She said nonchalantly, putting a bowl into the sink.

"So, what's your plan, now? You gonna stick around Kansas for a bit longer?" He said, quickly changing the subject.

"I don't know... I don't really stay in one place for very long."

"You're a great hunter. You're welcome to stay here a bit longer if you want."

"I'm not sticking around just to make you breakfast every morning," She teased.

Dean laughed then grew serious. "Then why are you sticking around? You seem like the type to dip out once the action is over. That's what you did in Washington."

Mallory stopped doing the dishes, but didn't turn to face him. "Well we did get in pretty late last night."

"That's not what I mean."

She sighed. "I remembered that sometimes it's nice to not just dip out. It's been a long time since I've confided in anyone."

"So I should feel pretty special."

"I'm being serious, Dean."

Dean smiled. "I know. And if you don't want to go, then don't. At least for a little bit. Deal?"

"...Deal. What about Sam? I still don't think he's completely Team Mallory."

"Don't worry about Sam. He'll come around."

Mallory smiled at him, but she didn't looked convinced.

(Scene Change) A man is sitting in a dimly lit bar, holding a glass of scotch. He is somewhere middle age, nicely dressed, silver hair. Another, younger man comes up to him.

"Sir, She's been found." The young man says to him.

"Good," he says quietly. "Now.... How do we trick that sneaky fox out into the open... without getting everyone killed?"