Pale Reflection (2/?)
Dean’s gaze was intense, watching out the window as they drove back to town. Sam noticed, but they’d never been here before and he thought Dean was simply making a note of the layout and thought no more of it. The presence in Dean smiled inwardly and marvelled at how easily people rationalised the unexplained.
Daylight was fading into night by the time they found a motel. John got them two joining rooms, passing one key to Dean. It was cheap and looked it but by far not the worst they’d ever stayed in. Entering the room Dean headed straight for the bed furthest from the door and collapsed onto it, crossing his legs and folding his arm behind his head. He sighed in contentment.
He’d left the door open and a moment later Sam came in lugging both their heavy duffle bags. Muttering, just loud enough for Dean to hear, about lazy big brothers.
Sam paused. Dean had broken with the tradition of taking the bed closest to the door.
Maybe Dean thinks I’m old enough now that I don’t need protecting, that I can protect myself. Sam felt proud and tried to ignore the flutter in his stomach as he looked at the window and door, calculating how much time he’d have if someone did get in. Crossing the room he dumped Dean’s bag on his stomach. Sam grinned satisfied at the loud ‘Oomph’.
John opened the door joining the two rooms before Dean could retaliate. “Boys, I suggest you get ready for bed. I want an early start tomorrow.”
“Yes, sir,” Sam said.
Dean merely nodded. Grabbing his toiletry kit, Sam decided to claim the bathroom first. When he came out not fifteen minutes later Dean was already under the covers. “Night, Dean.” Sam said softly.
He got no reply; it wasn’t Sam’s brother in Dean’s body.
The entity lay in the bed, eyes shut and listened to the rustle of bed sheets as Sam got into bed. He listened to Sam’s breaths, waiting patiently as they grew deeper and more regular. He gave it half an hour to ensure Sam was truly asleep then threw back the covers. It was his first night of freedom in 42 years and he planned on making the most of it.
~~~~~~~~~~
Kelly smiled as the young man who had been flirting with her for the past hour caught her eye again. He sat across the bar from her and she raised her drink to him in thanks. The cocktail had been sent by the mysterious stranger and was her favorite; she’d been drinking the same thing all night. He looked a little on the young side for a bar but he was very easy on the eyes. Attractive and attentive, things are looking good.
On the advice of her friends, the ones who had mysteriously disappeared since she had attracted the attention of the young man, she’d been looking to have a good time tonight. Something meaningless and definitely with no strings. You need to get out there again, was her best friend Tanya’s advice. She tried to argue that you don’t just get over a five year relationship, but her friend had been adamant. Kelly doubted that anyone could take her mind off her disastrous break up, but this guy was doing a good job of it.
Pushing off her barstool she made her way towards him.
“Hey, gorgeous.” His voice was low. She rolled her eyes and he smiled as if realizing how bad it sounded.
“So, you’ve been staring at me for the past hour,” she flirted.
“How can I help it when you’re so alluring?”
She cringed inwardly at the line and was half tempted to just leave; she looked over her shoulder in search of her friends or a good excuse. He reached out and gently turned her face back to him, running the pad of his thumb down her jaw line. Her skin tingled in its wake, and all thoughts of leaving vanished. The look in his eyes and the desire there; she knew he wanted the same thing as her.
“You’re not so bad yourself, I’m Kelly.”
“That’s pretty.” He smiled softly. “I’m Dean,”
“Dean, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” His lines might have been predictable and cheesy but her small talk sucked. It hadn’t been that long, had it?
“Pleasure’s all mine, I assure you. What do you say we maybe continue this outside?” His intention was clear and she slipped her hand into his as he rose, following him out the bar.
They didn’t go far.
In the backseat of the Impala, they hungrily found each other’s lips. Clothes were quickly lost as they made love.
Afterwards, Kelly lay in his arms, debating whether to ask for his number. She’d had fun and not once thought of her ex.
“You remind me so much of her…” Dean’s voice was soft, as though he was speaking to himself.
Kelly tensed.
“Who?” She asked, fearing he would then tell a story of a lost love or worse, his mother.
“Ruth,”
His hands snaked around her neck. Her skin tingled, but it had nothing to do with desire this time. Kelly shifted, twisting around in his grasp and saw the eyes of her killer just before her world ended.
~~~~~~~~~~
Sam grew increasingly resentful as he ate breakfast, shooting the occasional glare at the lump bundled in blankets in his brother’s bed. If he had to get up at a god forsaken hour then so should his brother. There was no way he could still be asleep with all the noise Sam had made this morning.
Finishing his breakfast Sam cleaned his teeth, prepared to give Dean a rude awakening if he hadn’t appeared by the time he had finished. As Sam whipped the last of the energy bars out of the box to put in his bag, he heard the soft turn of a key in the lock. Sam quickly went to Dean’s bed reaching out a hand to shake his shoulder and putting his other hand under the pillow to grab the knife Dean usually slept with.
But there was no knife. No Dean either; the lump was far too soft. Ripping back the covers revealed pillows and clothes had been used to deceive Sam.
The door opened and Dean walked in.
“Where’ve you been?” Sam demanded.
“Out.”
“Where?”
“Just out, it’s none of your business.”
“Were you out all night?”
“Maybe.”
Sam could smell the smoke on Dean’s clothes and as he walked past, the alcohol on his breath. “Did you go out to a bar, Dean?”
“A guy’s gotta have fun, Sammy.”
”It’s Sam. And Dad’s so gonna bust your ass.”
”Why? I’m twenty-one. I don’t have to do what he says.”
“What's gotten into you, Dean? You're the one that always does what Dad says. And don’t be stupid, you’re not twenty-one.”
“Says I am on my driving license.” Dean frowned.
“Yeah, your fake driving license. The one Dad wouldn’t let you have if he knew you were going to sneak out to bars behind his back.”
“Well, he’s not going to find out, is he?”
“Give me one good reason why shouldn’t I tell him.”
Dean flipped an unsuspecting Sam around using an arm to hold him in a headlock.
“Because if you do, I’ll make your life a living hell? Got it.”
The grip tightened and Sam began to panic despite the fact that he knew Dean never took things too far. He always held back when the wrestled or sparred. “Dean! Let me go!”
“Not until you promise.”
“Dean!”
“Boys, what’s going on?” John opened the adjoining door. It looked like he hadn’t been up long and hadn’t had his coffee yet. Sam knew he'd demand that his boys have a damn good reason for making such a commotion. There was a heavy pause, Dean’s the subtle squeeze on his neck reminding Sam of his brother’s threat. Sam weighed up his options and decided that letting this go would give him something to hold over Dean in the future.
“Dean won’t let me go,” he whined.
John sighed. “Dean, let him go.” Their father turned back to his room, clearly heading for the source of the aroma of fresh coffee drifting through.
Sam smirked. Dean would never disobey their dad to his face.
“Make me,”
Sam whipped his head around to Dean so fast he thought he might have given himself whiplash. Do you have a death wish, Dean? John turned back and fixed Dean with a stare. “Excuse me?” John’s voice was low, the warning in it almost palpable.
“Sorry, uh, sir.” Dean’s reply was forced. He clearly didn’t want to cave, but realized he had stepped over a line. “Sorry, Sammy boy,” He abruptly let go of Sam, who stumbled a few steps at the sudden release. Sammy boy? Dean never stopped coming up with new and annoying nicknames. Sam scowled but realised it would be futile to correct Dean.
“I’m heading to the library this morning to do some research. The laundry needs doing. I expect you to have that finished by the time I get back.” Without waiting for a reply John slammed shut the door connecting their rooms.
“Where does he get off telling us what to do?”
Sam stared at Dean like he’d grown a third head. “He’s our dad, Dean.”
Dean sighed. “Sam, thanks for not telling Dad,” He clapped a hand on Sam’s shoulder as if nothing had happened.
“I won’t cover for you again, Dean.”
“It’s ok. Pretty soon you won’t have to.”
Sam frowned. What does that mean?
~~~~~~~~~~
The library in the town was a small, run down building run by a very traditional librarian. When he asked for the records section, John had to strain to hear her reply. The years of working in a library seemed to have robbed her of the ability to speak above a whisper.
He decided that the best place to start would be the first death in the house, which from his initial cursory research was Ruth Shelby in 1955. The newspaper report was easy to find. Ruth Shelby had been a young mother who tragically died in what the police report said was a suicide. The place had apparently been ransacked before she died, but the initial suspicion of robbery had been discarded as nothing had been missing. Ruth had been found bleeding to death on the floor in the bathroom, her wrists slit. She had left behind a husband, Tom, and her baby son Jacob.
Looking up the other six names John found very little in common among the victims besides the basic information that they were all female, all lived in the house and all died of dubious accidental deaths. The causes of death ranged from slipping on a wet floor and falling on a knife to the hairdryer falling in the bath. And how does someone get tangled up in their bedcovers so badly they suffocate?
John gave up on research when his continually growling stomach earned him a wrathful glare from the librarian.
In search of some lunch, he cruised down the main street. He noticed a diner: Shelby’s diner. He didn’t believe in coincidences. The diner decorated in warm reds and oranges and felt very inviting. It had the distinct feel of a family run business.
Three coffees and a very chatty waitress later, John had found out that while the Shelby’s were away on vacation, their daughter Anna was home from college and still in town working part time at their family run diner. However, interviewing a nineteen year old girl was not a job for an old man like himself. No, finding out if Anna knew anything about the circumstances surrounding her grandmother’s death would be a job for his sons. She’d be far more forthcoming talking to people her own age. John just hoped that Dean would keep his flirtatious side under control and Sam would be cooperative, at least until they had the information they needed.
~~~~~~~~~~
“The town sure has changed a lot over the years.” Dean commented under his breath, unaware that Sam was listening as they pulled into the diner’s almost entirely vacant parking lot. The drive through town had been slow as Dean’s head swivelled left and right, trying to take everything in.
“How would you know?” Sam asked.
“Oh, uh, I saw some of Dad’s research. Just looks a lot different than some of the old photos.”
“Sure, whatever.” Sam just wanted to get this over with; he didn’t appreciate being stuck with his brother while Dean tried to flirt information out of some poor girl.
For once, luck seemed to be on their side. They had been sitting in the bright red corner booth for only a few minutes when Anna herself came and took their orders of coffee and coke. When she returned a few minutes later, Dean convinced her, with his trademark smile, to take her break and help a couple of people ‘new to the area’ with the local sights and attractions.
“Have you lived here long?” Sam asked.
“Since I was about six, yeah. My grandparents lived here in the fifties, but moved away. We only came back here when my dad got a job offer.”
Sam tried steering the conversation to the house.
“Do you know about any urban legends around here? My brother and I are really into stories about haunted houses and spirits, you know, that kind of thing.”
“No, not around here, sorry. But I’m not the best person to ask, I don’t really believe in all that supernatural stuff.”
Damn. Sam sighed. If she didn’t believe then she probably paid no attention to rumors or myths anyway.
“You look so much like your grandmother.” Dean said, moving his hand across the table to rest on top of Anna’s.
“Excuse me?” She asked startled.
“I mean, I’m sure you must look a lot like your grandmother.” Dean replied.
She slid her hand out and rested both of them in her lap, looking upset.
Sam kicked Dean under the table. Watch it jerk.
“I’ve seen some of the old pictures, yeah,” Anna said after a moment. “I guess you’re right.”
“What about your grandparents? Did they move back with you?” asked Sam.
“My grandfather did,”
“Not your grandmother?”
“My grandmother’s dead,”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. It happened a long time ago. I never even met her. She had postpartum depression and committed suicide soon after my father was born.”
“Are you sure?” Dean asked.
“Yeah, I am.” Her offended tone indicated the conversation was over and she confirmed it by standing. “I should get back to work. Enjoy your drinks.”
“Dean!” Sam hissed once she was out of earshot. “What is wrong with you? She’s probably not going to tell us anything now!”
Dean seemed entirely unconcerned as he watched Anna leave. After following his brother’s gaze, Sam grabbed his arm and yanked him out of the booth. “Come on, we’re leaving.”
~~~~~~~~~
“She doesn’t know anything,” Sam said as soon as they were in the motel door. He dumped his bag on the floor and moved to his bed, grabbing the pizza delivery menu on his way.
“Did you find out anything that might help?” John asked, looking up briefly from the research spread over the table he sat at.
“Not really.” Dean said, distracted as he sat on his own bed and began flicking through the television channels.
“She said her grandmother committed suicide due to post natal depression.” Sam volunteered.
“That might help, Dean,” John said, the reprimand clear in his voice. Dean ignored him, more engrossed in the television. John narrowed his eyes. He’d noticed Dean’s borderline insubordination today, but let it pass for now. He had enough trouble with a sulking Sam at the moment. “If she committed suicide, then maybe she’s the spirit that’s killing women.”
“Doesn’t explain her MO of killing women though.” Sam offered, peering up from behind the menu.
“True, but right now it’s the only thing we’ve got.”
“We shouldn’t go digging up some poor woman’s grave based on guesses.” Sam looked like he was gearing up for another argument but this time John agreed with him.
“You’re right,” John suppressed a smile at the shocked expression on Sam’s face. He almost looked disappointed that he wasn’t going to get a fight.
“Okay, how do a couple of pepperoni pizzas sound for dinner.” Sam asked.
“Fine by me, son.”
“Don’t like pepperoni.”
“Since when Dean? You liked pepperoni last week.”
“Since now.”
“Sam, just get the meat feast instead.” John tried to nip the disagreement in the bud.
“Fine.” Sam huffed and reached for the phone.
“When did there get to be so many TV channels?” Dean muttered under his breath, still flicking with the remote.
“Since now, Dean. Stop being an idiot.”
Sighing, John began clearing his papers up, making room for the pizza soon to arrive.
“After dinner, we’ll head back to the house. See if there’s anything there that we didn’t pick up during the day.”
Neither Sam nor John saw the flash of panic that crossed Dean’s face.
~~~~~~~~~~
Twenty four hours later, the real Dean was hoarse from shouting and still trapped in the attic. He’d scoured the room from top to bottom looking for anything, absolutely anything that showed even the slightest promise of escape: loose floorboards, openings in the window, cracks in the door, but there was nothing. There was no way for him to get out and it seemed no one had missed him either.
“A whole day guys. C’mon, you must have missed me. Why haven’t you checked the damn attic?” Dean had begun airing his thoughts out loud, breaking the smothering silence of the room.
There was no food in the room, but Dean hadn’t felt even the slightest bit hungry since waking up. When he realized that and thought about it, he hadn’t felt thirsty or tired either.
“Something isn’t right,” He muttered.
“Haven’t figured it out yet?” His own voice answered him out of nowhere.
Dean spun around, frowning. I’m not going crazy, but that was my voice I’m sure of it.
“Look in the mirror, dumbass.” It was his voice, alright, but there was an edge to it, something his voice never usually carried, something he used only for the evil bastards they hunted.
Turning to the mirror, Dean saw his own reflection this time, whereas before the mirror had been blank, reflecting nothing. He stared at his reflection as it raised a hand and waved at him while Dean, himself, stood stock still.
“Howdy, Deano.” His reflection said.
Dean stumbled back a few steps, putting distance between himself and the impostor wearing his face.
“What the hell?”
“I guess you deserve an explanation,” the other Dean said.
“Damn right, I do! Who are you?”
“I’m you.”
“The hell you are!” Dean dove forward but the cool glass of the mirror stopped him from reaching himself. He smacked a palm against it.
The other Dean smiled in amusement. “If we’re going to be technical, then I am Robert Krandel. But I must admit I rather like being you, and wearing this body. “ He turned, looking down at himself, stretching his arms out as if he was considering the fit of a new suit. “I like what you’ve done with it. So if you shut up and listen, I’ll be generous and explain.”
Dean glared, but remained silent.
“You’re trapped,” Krandel explained. “You’re caught inside the mirror, the one you definitely shouldn’t have touched. Your loss, my gain. You see, the mirror’s cursed. I was a spirit here, trapped in the house with nothing to do but cause chaos and death and even then, I could only do it every seven years. But when you touched the mirror and said those words, your…spirit, I guess, was forced out. You left your body behind, an empty husk rapidly on its way to becoming a corpse.”
“So you stole it?”
“Finders keepers, Dean.” Krandel laughed. “I now have a new body and I’m free to do what I like. I can finally leave this hellhole of a house. You, on the other hand, well…you’re now stuck in the mirror, trapped in the reflection of this room, which is why you can’t leave. You really got the raw end of the deal. At least when I was a spirit I had free reign of the house. You get to play in the mere reflection of a room.”
“It was you who killed all those women.” Dean exclaimed, horrified at realizing what this man was capable of.
“A guy’s gotta have fun, Dean.”
“That’s sick. And you were wrong earlier. You got the raw end of the deal, because my dad will figure this out. And when he does, he’s gonna kick your ass, and then he’s gonna salt and burn it. You won’t get away with this.”
“You know what? I don’t think so. See, your dad thinks I’m you. As far as he’s concerned, his son is following his orders and checking for EMF.”
Dean clenched his fists and hit the mirror, wishing he could hit the man taking over his life. The cold blooded killer who apparently fitted in seamlessly with his family, because facts were facts and twenty four hours had passed without anyone noticing.
“You won’t fool him for long,” he blustered. “My dad and my brother, they know me. They’ll figure out you’re not me.” Dean heard the doubt in his own voice, but prayed Krandel didn’t.
“Maybe, but I forgot to mention that I don’t have to keep this up for long. Your time is running out. See, mirrors can capture the spirits of dead people, Dean. They don’t do so well with the live ones. The ones ripped out of their bodies like you were. Soon, you’re going to start to fade away. Even if your family does figure it out eventually, there won’t be much of you left to save. You’re going to die, Dean.”
Dean paled, “You’re lying. They’ll figure it out. I’m not dying.” He shook his head. “I’m not.”
“Sure, Dean,” Krandel chuckled, “Sure. Anyway, I’d better be going. Wouldn’t want Dad or young Sammy to get worried. Been real nice meeting you, Dean. Thanks for…well, your life.” With a jaunty salute Dean’s body left, leaving Dean’s soul alone in his prison.
~~~~~~~~~~
Chapter Three
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Daylight was fading into night by the time they found a motel. John got them two joining rooms, passing one key to Dean. It was cheap and looked it but by far not the worst they’d ever stayed in. Entering the room Dean headed straight for the bed furthest from the door and collapsed onto it, crossing his legs and folding his arm behind his head. He sighed in contentment.
He’d left the door open and a moment later Sam came in lugging both their heavy duffle bags. Muttering, just loud enough for Dean to hear, about lazy big brothers.
Sam paused. Dean had broken with the tradition of taking the bed closest to the door.
Maybe Dean thinks I’m old enough now that I don’t need protecting, that I can protect myself. Sam felt proud and tried to ignore the flutter in his stomach as he looked at the window and door, calculating how much time he’d have if someone did get in. Crossing the room he dumped Dean’s bag on his stomach. Sam grinned satisfied at the loud ‘Oomph’.
John opened the door joining the two rooms before Dean could retaliate. “Boys, I suggest you get ready for bed. I want an early start tomorrow.”
“Yes, sir,” Sam said.
Dean merely nodded. Grabbing his toiletry kit, Sam decided to claim the bathroom first. When he came out not fifteen minutes later Dean was already under the covers. “Night, Dean.” Sam said softly.
He got no reply; it wasn’t Sam’s brother in Dean’s body.
The entity lay in the bed, eyes shut and listened to the rustle of bed sheets as Sam got into bed. He listened to Sam’s breaths, waiting patiently as they grew deeper and more regular. He gave it half an hour to ensure Sam was truly asleep then threw back the covers. It was his first night of freedom in 42 years and he planned on making the most of it.
~~~~~~~~~~
Kelly smiled as the young man who had been flirting with her for the past hour caught her eye again. He sat across the bar from her and she raised her drink to him in thanks. The cocktail had been sent by the mysterious stranger and was her favorite; she’d been drinking the same thing all night. He looked a little on the young side for a bar but he was very easy on the eyes. Attractive and attentive, things are looking good.
On the advice of her friends, the ones who had mysteriously disappeared since she had attracted the attention of the young man, she’d been looking to have a good time tonight. Something meaningless and definitely with no strings. You need to get out there again, was her best friend Tanya’s advice. She tried to argue that you don’t just get over a five year relationship, but her friend had been adamant. Kelly doubted that anyone could take her mind off her disastrous break up, but this guy was doing a good job of it.
Pushing off her barstool she made her way towards him.
“Hey, gorgeous.” His voice was low. She rolled her eyes and he smiled as if realizing how bad it sounded.
“So, you’ve been staring at me for the past hour,” she flirted.
“How can I help it when you’re so alluring?”
She cringed inwardly at the line and was half tempted to just leave; she looked over her shoulder in search of her friends or a good excuse. He reached out and gently turned her face back to him, running the pad of his thumb down her jaw line. Her skin tingled in its wake, and all thoughts of leaving vanished. The look in his eyes and the desire there; she knew he wanted the same thing as her.
“You’re not so bad yourself, I’m Kelly.”
“That’s pretty.” He smiled softly. “I’m Dean,”
“Dean, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” His lines might have been predictable and cheesy but her small talk sucked. It hadn’t been that long, had it?
“Pleasure’s all mine, I assure you. What do you say we maybe continue this outside?” His intention was clear and she slipped her hand into his as he rose, following him out the bar.
They didn’t go far.
In the backseat of the Impala, they hungrily found each other’s lips. Clothes were quickly lost as they made love.
Afterwards, Kelly lay in his arms, debating whether to ask for his number. She’d had fun and not once thought of her ex.
“You remind me so much of her…” Dean’s voice was soft, as though he was speaking to himself.
Kelly tensed.
“Who?” She asked, fearing he would then tell a story of a lost love or worse, his mother.
“Ruth,”
His hands snaked around her neck. Her skin tingled, but it had nothing to do with desire this time. Kelly shifted, twisting around in his grasp and saw the eyes of her killer just before her world ended.
~~~~~~~~~~
Sam grew increasingly resentful as he ate breakfast, shooting the occasional glare at the lump bundled in blankets in his brother’s bed. If he had to get up at a god forsaken hour then so should his brother. There was no way he could still be asleep with all the noise Sam had made this morning.
Finishing his breakfast Sam cleaned his teeth, prepared to give Dean a rude awakening if he hadn’t appeared by the time he had finished. As Sam whipped the last of the energy bars out of the box to put in his bag, he heard the soft turn of a key in the lock. Sam quickly went to Dean’s bed reaching out a hand to shake his shoulder and putting his other hand under the pillow to grab the knife Dean usually slept with.
But there was no knife. No Dean either; the lump was far too soft. Ripping back the covers revealed pillows and clothes had been used to deceive Sam.
The door opened and Dean walked in.
“Where’ve you been?” Sam demanded.
“Out.”
“Where?”
“Just out, it’s none of your business.”
“Were you out all night?”
“Maybe.”
Sam could smell the smoke on Dean’s clothes and as he walked past, the alcohol on his breath. “Did you go out to a bar, Dean?”
“A guy’s gotta have fun, Sammy.”
”It’s Sam. And Dad’s so gonna bust your ass.”
”Why? I’m twenty-one. I don’t have to do what he says.”
“What's gotten into you, Dean? You're the one that always does what Dad says. And don’t be stupid, you’re not twenty-one.”
“Says I am on my driving license.” Dean frowned.
“Yeah, your fake driving license. The one Dad wouldn’t let you have if he knew you were going to sneak out to bars behind his back.”
“Well, he’s not going to find out, is he?”
“Give me one good reason why shouldn’t I tell him.”
Dean flipped an unsuspecting Sam around using an arm to hold him in a headlock.
“Because if you do, I’ll make your life a living hell? Got it.”
The grip tightened and Sam began to panic despite the fact that he knew Dean never took things too far. He always held back when the wrestled or sparred. “Dean! Let me go!”
“Not until you promise.”
“Dean!”
“Boys, what’s going on?” John opened the adjoining door. It looked like he hadn’t been up long and hadn’t had his coffee yet. Sam knew he'd demand that his boys have a damn good reason for making such a commotion. There was a heavy pause, Dean’s the subtle squeeze on his neck reminding Sam of his brother’s threat. Sam weighed up his options and decided that letting this go would give him something to hold over Dean in the future.
“Dean won’t let me go,” he whined.
John sighed. “Dean, let him go.” Their father turned back to his room, clearly heading for the source of the aroma of fresh coffee drifting through.
Sam smirked. Dean would never disobey their dad to his face.
“Make me,”
Sam whipped his head around to Dean so fast he thought he might have given himself whiplash. Do you have a death wish, Dean? John turned back and fixed Dean with a stare. “Excuse me?” John’s voice was low, the warning in it almost palpable.
“Sorry, uh, sir.” Dean’s reply was forced. He clearly didn’t want to cave, but realized he had stepped over a line. “Sorry, Sammy boy,” He abruptly let go of Sam, who stumbled a few steps at the sudden release. Sammy boy? Dean never stopped coming up with new and annoying nicknames. Sam scowled but realised it would be futile to correct Dean.
“I’m heading to the library this morning to do some research. The laundry needs doing. I expect you to have that finished by the time I get back.” Without waiting for a reply John slammed shut the door connecting their rooms.
“Where does he get off telling us what to do?”
Sam stared at Dean like he’d grown a third head. “He’s our dad, Dean.”
Dean sighed. “Sam, thanks for not telling Dad,” He clapped a hand on Sam’s shoulder as if nothing had happened.
“I won’t cover for you again, Dean.”
“It’s ok. Pretty soon you won’t have to.”
Sam frowned. What does that mean?
~~~~~~~~~~
The library in the town was a small, run down building run by a very traditional librarian. When he asked for the records section, John had to strain to hear her reply. The years of working in a library seemed to have robbed her of the ability to speak above a whisper.
He decided that the best place to start would be the first death in the house, which from his initial cursory research was Ruth Shelby in 1955. The newspaper report was easy to find. Ruth Shelby had been a young mother who tragically died in what the police report said was a suicide. The place had apparently been ransacked before she died, but the initial suspicion of robbery had been discarded as nothing had been missing. Ruth had been found bleeding to death on the floor in the bathroom, her wrists slit. She had left behind a husband, Tom, and her baby son Jacob.
Looking up the other six names John found very little in common among the victims besides the basic information that they were all female, all lived in the house and all died of dubious accidental deaths. The causes of death ranged from slipping on a wet floor and falling on a knife to the hairdryer falling in the bath. And how does someone get tangled up in their bedcovers so badly they suffocate?
John gave up on research when his continually growling stomach earned him a wrathful glare from the librarian.
In search of some lunch, he cruised down the main street. He noticed a diner: Shelby’s diner. He didn’t believe in coincidences. The diner decorated in warm reds and oranges and felt very inviting. It had the distinct feel of a family run business.
Three coffees and a very chatty waitress later, John had found out that while the Shelby’s were away on vacation, their daughter Anna was home from college and still in town working part time at their family run diner. However, interviewing a nineteen year old girl was not a job for an old man like himself. No, finding out if Anna knew anything about the circumstances surrounding her grandmother’s death would be a job for his sons. She’d be far more forthcoming talking to people her own age. John just hoped that Dean would keep his flirtatious side under control and Sam would be cooperative, at least until they had the information they needed.
~~~~~~~~~~
“The town sure has changed a lot over the years.” Dean commented under his breath, unaware that Sam was listening as they pulled into the diner’s almost entirely vacant parking lot. The drive through town had been slow as Dean’s head swivelled left and right, trying to take everything in.
“How would you know?” Sam asked.
“Oh, uh, I saw some of Dad’s research. Just looks a lot different than some of the old photos.”
“Sure, whatever.” Sam just wanted to get this over with; he didn’t appreciate being stuck with his brother while Dean tried to flirt information out of some poor girl.
For once, luck seemed to be on their side. They had been sitting in the bright red corner booth for only a few minutes when Anna herself came and took their orders of coffee and coke. When she returned a few minutes later, Dean convinced her, with his trademark smile, to take her break and help a couple of people ‘new to the area’ with the local sights and attractions.
“Have you lived here long?” Sam asked.
“Since I was about six, yeah. My grandparents lived here in the fifties, but moved away. We only came back here when my dad got a job offer.”
Sam tried steering the conversation to the house.
“Do you know about any urban legends around here? My brother and I are really into stories about haunted houses and spirits, you know, that kind of thing.”
“No, not around here, sorry. But I’m not the best person to ask, I don’t really believe in all that supernatural stuff.”
Damn. Sam sighed. If she didn’t believe then she probably paid no attention to rumors or myths anyway.
“You look so much like your grandmother.” Dean said, moving his hand across the table to rest on top of Anna’s.
“Excuse me?” She asked startled.
“I mean, I’m sure you must look a lot like your grandmother.” Dean replied.
She slid her hand out and rested both of them in her lap, looking upset.
Sam kicked Dean under the table. Watch it jerk.
“I’ve seen some of the old pictures, yeah,” Anna said after a moment. “I guess you’re right.”
“What about your grandparents? Did they move back with you?” asked Sam.
“My grandfather did,”
“Not your grandmother?”
“My grandmother’s dead,”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. It happened a long time ago. I never even met her. She had postpartum depression and committed suicide soon after my father was born.”
“Are you sure?” Dean asked.
“Yeah, I am.” Her offended tone indicated the conversation was over and she confirmed it by standing. “I should get back to work. Enjoy your drinks.”
“Dean!” Sam hissed once she was out of earshot. “What is wrong with you? She’s probably not going to tell us anything now!”
Dean seemed entirely unconcerned as he watched Anna leave. After following his brother’s gaze, Sam grabbed his arm and yanked him out of the booth. “Come on, we’re leaving.”
~~~~~~~~~
“She doesn’t know anything,” Sam said as soon as they were in the motel door. He dumped his bag on the floor and moved to his bed, grabbing the pizza delivery menu on his way.
“Did you find out anything that might help?” John asked, looking up briefly from the research spread over the table he sat at.
“Not really.” Dean said, distracted as he sat on his own bed and began flicking through the television channels.
“She said her grandmother committed suicide due to post natal depression.” Sam volunteered.
“That might help, Dean,” John said, the reprimand clear in his voice. Dean ignored him, more engrossed in the television. John narrowed his eyes. He’d noticed Dean’s borderline insubordination today, but let it pass for now. He had enough trouble with a sulking Sam at the moment. “If she committed suicide, then maybe she’s the spirit that’s killing women.”
“Doesn’t explain her MO of killing women though.” Sam offered, peering up from behind the menu.
“True, but right now it’s the only thing we’ve got.”
“We shouldn’t go digging up some poor woman’s grave based on guesses.” Sam looked like he was gearing up for another argument but this time John agreed with him.
“You’re right,” John suppressed a smile at the shocked expression on Sam’s face. He almost looked disappointed that he wasn’t going to get a fight.
“Okay, how do a couple of pepperoni pizzas sound for dinner.” Sam asked.
“Fine by me, son.”
“Don’t like pepperoni.”
“Since when Dean? You liked pepperoni last week.”
“Since now.”
“Sam, just get the meat feast instead.” John tried to nip the disagreement in the bud.
“Fine.” Sam huffed and reached for the phone.
“When did there get to be so many TV channels?” Dean muttered under his breath, still flicking with the remote.
“Since now, Dean. Stop being an idiot.”
Sighing, John began clearing his papers up, making room for the pizza soon to arrive.
“After dinner, we’ll head back to the house. See if there’s anything there that we didn’t pick up during the day.”
Neither Sam nor John saw the flash of panic that crossed Dean’s face.
~~~~~~~~~~
Twenty four hours later, the real Dean was hoarse from shouting and still trapped in the attic. He’d scoured the room from top to bottom looking for anything, absolutely anything that showed even the slightest promise of escape: loose floorboards, openings in the window, cracks in the door, but there was nothing. There was no way for him to get out and it seemed no one had missed him either.
“A whole day guys. C’mon, you must have missed me. Why haven’t you checked the damn attic?” Dean had begun airing his thoughts out loud, breaking the smothering silence of the room.
There was no food in the room, but Dean hadn’t felt even the slightest bit hungry since waking up. When he realized that and thought about it, he hadn’t felt thirsty or tired either.
“Something isn’t right,” He muttered.
“Haven’t figured it out yet?” His own voice answered him out of nowhere.
Dean spun around, frowning. I’m not going crazy, but that was my voice I’m sure of it.
“Look in the mirror, dumbass.” It was his voice, alright, but there was an edge to it, something his voice never usually carried, something he used only for the evil bastards they hunted.
Turning to the mirror, Dean saw his own reflection this time, whereas before the mirror had been blank, reflecting nothing. He stared at his reflection as it raised a hand and waved at him while Dean, himself, stood stock still.
“Howdy, Deano.” His reflection said.
Dean stumbled back a few steps, putting distance between himself and the impostor wearing his face.
“What the hell?”
“I guess you deserve an explanation,” the other Dean said.
“Damn right, I do! Who are you?”
“I’m you.”
“The hell you are!” Dean dove forward but the cool glass of the mirror stopped him from reaching himself. He smacked a palm against it.
The other Dean smiled in amusement. “If we’re going to be technical, then I am Robert Krandel. But I must admit I rather like being you, and wearing this body. “ He turned, looking down at himself, stretching his arms out as if he was considering the fit of a new suit. “I like what you’ve done with it. So if you shut up and listen, I’ll be generous and explain.”
Dean glared, but remained silent.
“You’re trapped,” Krandel explained. “You’re caught inside the mirror, the one you definitely shouldn’t have touched. Your loss, my gain. You see, the mirror’s cursed. I was a spirit here, trapped in the house with nothing to do but cause chaos and death and even then, I could only do it every seven years. But when you touched the mirror and said those words, your…spirit, I guess, was forced out. You left your body behind, an empty husk rapidly on its way to becoming a corpse.”
“So you stole it?”
“Finders keepers, Dean.” Krandel laughed. “I now have a new body and I’m free to do what I like. I can finally leave this hellhole of a house. You, on the other hand, well…you’re now stuck in the mirror, trapped in the reflection of this room, which is why you can’t leave. You really got the raw end of the deal. At least when I was a spirit I had free reign of the house. You get to play in the mere reflection of a room.”
“It was you who killed all those women.” Dean exclaimed, horrified at realizing what this man was capable of.
“A guy’s gotta have fun, Dean.”
“That’s sick. And you were wrong earlier. You got the raw end of the deal, because my dad will figure this out. And when he does, he’s gonna kick your ass, and then he’s gonna salt and burn it. You won’t get away with this.”
“You know what? I don’t think so. See, your dad thinks I’m you. As far as he’s concerned, his son is following his orders and checking for EMF.”
Dean clenched his fists and hit the mirror, wishing he could hit the man taking over his life. The cold blooded killer who apparently fitted in seamlessly with his family, because facts were facts and twenty four hours had passed without anyone noticing.
“You won’t fool him for long,” he blustered. “My dad and my brother, they know me. They’ll figure out you’re not me.” Dean heard the doubt in his own voice, but prayed Krandel didn’t.
“Maybe, but I forgot to mention that I don’t have to keep this up for long. Your time is running out. See, mirrors can capture the spirits of dead people, Dean. They don’t do so well with the live ones. The ones ripped out of their bodies like you were. Soon, you’re going to start to fade away. Even if your family does figure it out eventually, there won’t be much of you left to save. You’re going to die, Dean.”
Dean paled, “You’re lying. They’ll figure it out. I’m not dying.” He shook his head. “I’m not.”
“Sure, Dean,” Krandel chuckled, “Sure. Anyway, I’d better be going. Wouldn’t want Dad or young Sammy to get worried. Been real nice meeting you, Dean. Thanks for…well, your life.” With a jaunty salute Dean’s body left, leaving Dean’s soul alone in his prison.
~~~~~~~~~~
Chapter Three
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