Not really sure where this one came from, but it wouldn't leave me alone until I wrote it, so here it is. Please enjoy and drop a line if you likey :)

Title: Mirror, Mirror

Summary: He looked into the mirror and shuddered. It wanted out, and he had no doubt that it would get what it wanted someday. When that day came… well, he hated to think of what might become of him, become of his brother. And he was scared. One-Shot.

Rating: T (for one word)

Disclaimer: The show doesn't belong to me. It belongs to Kripke. He's the Master.

Mirror, Mirror

He looked into the mirror and hated what he saw. The demon got that much right, at least.

It wasn't the subtle desperation, the hardness that occasionally stole through the gaze, or even that haunted quality that scared him the most. It was what lay underneath the steady hazel gaze, beneath years of never being good enough, of struggling to get by, of barely holding on to his sanity for the sake of everyone around him.

It was small, that thing behind his eyes. It was small and weak, but so strong. Oh, so strong.

It cried. It cried for its mommy and for its daddy. It cried for anyone and everyone. It was just as tired of being alone as Dean was, only this thing wasn't willing to sit back and take abandonment like a man. It wanted someone, anyone, to save it.

It wanted to play. It wanted to sneak out at night and head to the local arcade, to go to the park and play. It begged for toys, for games, for fun, for all the things that he'd never had. Not since he was four, at least.

The thing wanted food. It wanted something sweet. It liked candy and ice cream and cheeseburgers. It was always hungry, always wanted more, even when he told it no. He tried to put his foot down, but the thing just cried louder. It was an persistent little bastard.

He had tried to fight it, had always fought it, but it just fought back. And it always wanted more. More food, more fun, more love. It wanted to curl up next to someone bigger and stronger, wanted to be protected. He fought it, but he couldn't help but feel that it was winning, that it had always been winning.

He looked into the mirror, stared unflinchingly into his own, child-like eyes, and shuddered. It wanted out. It wanted out, and he had no doubt that it would get what it wanted someday. When that day came… well, he hated to think of what might become of him, become of his brother. And he was scared.

o0o0o0o0o0o0o

He looked into the mirror and hated what he saw. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't block out that old image, the first one from Meg's stay inside his subconscious. As if to rub it in, she'd stood him in front of a mirror and blinked. And his eyes had turned soulless and black.

That same quality was sneaking back into them now, only it was worse somehow. This time, he wasn't possessed. He was himself, a being of mind, body, and sound. Yet his eyes had lost that dewy quality, that softness, that innocence. They had lost it when they had gone blank, had closed for what should have been the final time, had become dead.

When he had become dead.

The eyes weren't the worst part, though. They were only superficial, just a window for what he had become, what had grown inside of him since his demonic initiation at six months, to gaze steadily through.

He could feel it inside him, itching to break free, to get out, to do more than just take out a couple of demons, get rid of his competition, slay a virgin or two. It was so strong, so insistent, so evil.

And it knew how to save his brother, to save him from what he was doomed to become. It could stop his eyes from turning black, stop him from becoming evil, from losing everything, even his humanity. It could save his brother, but it would need a sacrifice of equal value. One for the other. A tarnished soul for a tarnished soul.

It was his last-ditch. That voice inside that wanted out, wanted to play, to kill, to lead. It would round up its ranks and march the world straight into Hell if he let it. If he let it out.

He kept it in. He tried to fight. It was black and wrong and devoid of anything human. It was him, and yet it wasn't.

And it could save his brother from becoming just like it.

It fought him, fought him hard, but he fought back. He was losing, but slowly. By the end of the year it wouldn't matter, anyway. Last-ditch efforts rarely do. Until then, though, he would fight and he would win and that cold thing inside of him would howl and rage and kick and scream. And he would relish its pain, because he was it and it was him.

He looked into the mirror, stared unflinchingly into his own, dark eyes, and shuddered. It wanted out. It wanted out, and he had no doubt that it would get what it wanted someday. When that day came… well, he hated to think of what might become of him, become of his brother. And he was scared.

o0o0o0o0o0o

They stared at each other, one over dismantled weaponry, the other over the screen of a laptop. They looked into eyes that they hardly recognized anymore and shuddered. They gazed at each other, and they were scared.

That's it. Glad I got it out of my system. So, any final words of advice/ adoration?

Thanks for reading!