<div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Current Description</div><div class="spoiler_body">Today she wore long blonde hair that spread down to the small of her back and that ended in crimson tips, dressed up in a black T-shirt, cutoff jeans and sneakers with white socks, and a black leather purse.  A name tag had been stuck to her shirt just over her left breast, proudly announcing, "Hello!  My name is Rachel Kyleson."</div></div><br/><div class="floatright">(http://img267.imageshack.us/img267/6299/doppelgangerm.jpg)</div>She gave a tug upon her shirt, showing her name tag in lieu of actually vocalizing her name of Rachel Kyleson.  She wasn't sure what Becky was, but supernatural was pretty obvious by the focus of going way back.  "I'm a doppelganger," she said, but by the time she finished saying it, all the color had drawn from her features.  Her eyes sunk back into her head like hollow pools, her pale hair withdrew to her shoulders, and her face flattened to the point of having virtually no discernible features.  She glanced back into the mirror, taking a few seconds before her appearance perfectly transformed back into the way she'd looked only moments before.<br/><br/>"Is there anything I can do to help?"  The words were barely out of her mouth before she realized the childishness of her offer.  Affection wasn't something that could easily be fixed or patched up by an outside; even counselors talked about how couples needed to want things to fix.  Still, she felt bad seeing people fighting, and didn't want to have to watch helplessly from the sidelines.