A/N: This is the fifth and final part of the Victor'verse and takes place immediately after the fourth part "Strangers in a Bar". This is a case fic and can stand alone but there are references to the other parts.

Monster in the Mirror

Then

After Special Agent Victor Henriksen had a literally front row seat to the Winchester brothers working a case, he quit the FBI to become a hunter. The Winchesters took him in to teach him the basics and take him on a few hunts till he would be capable to survive on his own. After the last hunt had gone south Victor had to deal with the death of a friend.

Now

"Cover your left." Dean shouted and that bastard wasn't even out of breath while Victor was already covered in sweat. Sluggishly he tried to get his hands up to block Dean's blows.

"Right!" Dean didn't gave him time to react and Victor gritted his teeth when the fist connected with his side. "Move your legs. That's it. C'mon!"

Victor tried his best and he had improved since they had started the sparring a while back. Not that he had been a newbie to fighting but the style they taught at the FBI was a little bit different from the marine style mixed with bar brawl moves and dirty street tricks the Winchesters used.

Dean landed a few more hits and then Victor kissed the floor. Or in this case the burned grass at some picnic place in the middle of nowhere.

"Ouch!" Sam made from his safe spot on one of the picnic tables. Even with the ringing in his ears Victor heard him grinning.

Slowly Victor came up to his feet and Dean grabbed his arm to prevent him from toppling over again.

"You okay?" Dean asked and patted his shoulder when Victor mumbled a "yes". It was getting late, the low sun cast long shadows over the abandoned picnic place.

"Enough for today." Dean decided and Victor didn't argue. He was beat and maybe it was enough to let him sleep this night. Nobody mentioned it but that was the main reason for the sparring. Okay, besides that he really could use the exercise.

Over the last month his and Sam's wounds had healed nicely, physically they were both in best form again, but mentally Victor still struggled with what had happened back then. And they all knew it.

At day Victor could avoid the memories and dark thoughts. There was so much to learn, so much to do, his mind was always busy. Even during long hours in the car he could keep himself occupied by discussing supernatural aspects with Sam or listen to Dean's stories or by just going over the things he had learned so far.

At night, however, he was alone with his thought. And sleeping he was vulnerable to the nightmares. He always had a room for himself but the Winchesters were only a thin wall away and he was pretty sure they knew about his nightmares.

The vampires he had killed, there faces were burned into his mind and at night they haunted him. Teenagers, foolish kids who thought it would be cool to become vampires. Romantic ideas in their heads and when they realized what they had become it had been too late. And at that point they hadn't even cared anymore.

He had chopped their heads off without mercy. He knew he had to do it but that didn't make him feel better.

And then there was Foster.

Victor wiped the sweat from his face and forced the thought of Foster deep down into the darkness of his mind. It wouldn't prevent it from coming back up, preferable in the middle of the night, but now he didn't want to deal with that.

Sam offered him a bottle of water which he gulped down between harsh breaths.

"You're getting better." Dean clapped his shoulder again sand snagged a bottle from Sam.

Victor nodded and enjoyed the blissful numbness of his mind. He had figured out that physical exhaustion did the trick for him. Between hunts, like now, sparring with Sam or Dean tired him out enough for him to hope for a dreamless night. Digging up a grave did wonders too and neither Winchester had argued with him about him doing all the hard work, he wondered why.

Getting drunk worked as well but that wasn't really an option in the long run and for the occasional sex he had to go through the trouble of picking up a girl and for that he wasn't often in the mood nowadays.

They packed up and got in the car. Dean behind the wheel, AD/DC blasting out of the speakers they drove till it was fully dark and then Dean stopped at a random diner for dinner.

Over the last few weeks Victor had gotten used to this nomadic lifestyle but sometimes he still missed his steady life. A place he could call home. After their last gig they hadn't found a new hunt yet so they drove aimlessly through the country. Driving wherever the road took them.

After dinner they drove for another hour or two till they stopped for the night. Sam got them two rooms and then Victor was alone. Through the wall he heard the low noises of the Winchesters settling in next door but he couldn't make out words. Sometimes he wondered if they talked about him – what they probably did – and what they thought of him. That vampire hunt had shaken him to the bones, they all knew that.

Alone in his room with the night creeping in, he was sometimes sure to wake up in the morning to find them gone.

He had killed their friend and he had no idea how they still took up with him after that. When they had agreed to take him along it had been clear it was only a temporarily arrangement and every night he now feared that this was the last night, that they were done with him now. But they were always still there in the morning and they never said a word about parting. And Victor was the last person who would mention that issue.

With a sigh Victor took a shower, got ready for bed and turned the lights off. The sparring earlier had left him exhausted and his whole body lay heavy and comfortable numb and it wasn't difficult this time to drift off to sleep.

He only woke up once in the middle of the night, sweat plastering his shirt to his heaving chest and a muffled "no" on his lips. After an unoriented second he recognized his home for the night and sank back to the pillow.

"You killed me." Fosters voice echoed through his mind and it took a while before Victor closed his eyes again. However, once a night meant a good night and he woke in the morning fresh and well rested.

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They didn't find a hunt the next day and some part of Victor – the masochistic part of his mind – kinda hoped the Winchesters would start their prank war once again just to keep his mind busy.

After another day of driving they found a nice motel in a not too bad town and decided to stick around for a day or two. Dean wanted do work on the car a bit – he said he'd heard some noises he didn't like which neither Sam nor Victor could hear – and Victor and Sam used the time to search local papers and the internet for hints of a hunt. And came up with nothing. It was like the whole supernatural world was on vacation or something.

The rest of the time they used for weapon maintenance and teach-the-rookie. The latter contained useful things like picking locks or hot-wire a car. And Victor had to admit tying Sam to a chair was kinda fun and a little bit payback but that bastard got out of the ropes with ease more often than not.

However, Victor started to hate the stopwatch. He could get out of the handcuffs behind his back or cut the ropes with the knife from his arm sheath and he could disassemble and put a gun together again in a good time, but against the clock? That always made it that much harder. He knew in case of an emergency he would have to do those things under much more pressure but it still sucked. It wasn't helping either that the Winchesters beat his time every single time. He was getting better, though, but they just had a lifetime of experience with this crap.

The evening they spent at a bar where they got a decent burger and a cold beer and Victor tried his first game of pool for money. He had practiced with Dean every chance they got but to play for real? With real money on the table?

Victor licked his lips and studied the table for a second.

"C'mon, old man. Not getting younger here." The other player teased. Some college kid younger than Sam with a bit too much alcohol in his system and way to much money in his pocket. Dean had helped Victor to get this kid to play and Victor knew he was a better player than that youngster. However, he was still nervous and it wasn't helping that Dean watched the game like a coach. He got the impression this game wouldn't be over after one of them had sunk the last ball. That would be the moment it really started. When Dean would started to analyze every shot, every mistake Victor had made.

Victor tried to shove that thought away and to concentrate on the shot he was about to make. In the end he won and took the money from the kid with a grin and he didn't feel too bad about it.

"Your head wasn't in the game." Dean said when they were back at their table. "You're lucky that guy couldn't play."

That dimmed Victor's euphoria but he was willing to listen when Dean went over the whole game and told him exactly where he had screwed up and which shot hadn't been half bad.

At the moment the Winchesters covered everything from gas over motel rooms to food and ammunition but very soon Victor would have to stand on his own feet, he knew that, and by then he better knew how to raise some cash.

After Dean had finished his lecture they enjoyed the rest of the evening with some beer and lighthearted chatter. At some point Dean trailed off to two girls in tight tops which were probably more fun around than Victor and Sam but they both didn't mind. Getting to know Sam better over the last few weeks Victor really enjoyed the younger man's company. Other kids his age were mostly just that, kids like the guy he had beaten at the pool table earlier. Sam, however, had more life experience at this age than most people didn't get their whole life and he was smart too.

Caught up in an interesting discussion Victor didn't even realize how time flew by. Not until Dean came back to toss his brother the keys to the Impala and told him with a wink not to wait up.

They left the bar not long after that and then Victor was once again alone in his motel room. Alone with his thoughts. Alone with his guilt. He knew he never had a choice. Other than to get killed himself, that was. But that didn't stop those teenage vampires to haunt his dreams.

Maybe he should have drunk a little more and he pondered if he should get up and search for that bottle of Jack he was sure he had in his bag.

"Becoming an alcoholic isn't the best idea, Vic." He told himself and stayed in bed. When he let the memories come fully to the surface he could still feel Foster's lips on his wounded neck. Victor's fingertips traced the by now scarred area and in his mind Foster's last seconds played in an endless loop of slow motion. The surprised look in his friend's eyes when the machete had separated his head from the body. Victor liked to interpret relief and maybe forgiveness into that expression but he was pretty sure those emotions hadn't been there. At that point Foster had only wanted to feed and for certain hadn't wanted to die.

Long after midnight he fell into a restless sleep only to wake up to phone ringing an hour later. Apparently the Winchesters were heavier sleepers than Victor because it took a while till somebody in the next room got the phone.

"Who the hell is calling in the middle of the night?" Victor muttered before he drifted off to sleep again.