Ok, so this is the first chapter of my very first fanfiction. I'm not at all a great fan of this writing style, because I realize that writing down an "episode" is a different form of art, and super hard.

This is based on Season 2 of Supernatural, where I imagined an episode between "Children Shouldn't Play with Dead Things" and "Simon Said."

Criticism is appreciated. Please tell me what you think of the first chapter ~

Supernatural and the Winchesters (c) Eric Kripke and CW
Idea of the new hunt (c) me

Mirrors Don't Lie

1. Another Murder

The car cruised along the road. It was a very calm road. Auburn leaves were scattered all over the highway, and some were still falling from the trees at the moment. The afternoon sun was very mild, caressing the black sheen of the Impala.

"So far as news goes, Mrs. Taylor was an extremely kind lady. There's no chance that someone would hold a grudge against her," Sam informed from the passenger seat. Getting no reply, he cast a sideways glance at his brother.

"Dean, you listening to me?"

"Yeah, sure."

"Then, what did I just say?"

"Mrs. Taylor was an angel."

Sam sighed. He had been trying so hard to at least make Dean feel better after he had told him how he felt about Dad's death. How Dean thought that he himself was responsible for it. Sam was trying so hard to not make him talk about it again, because obviously, he didn't want to.
Or, he was just putting on his "game face" again so Sam wouldn't ask him something that would get him pissed.

Hell, Dean's different, Sam knew he was thinking right. There was no one in the world who could understand his own brother more than him. And he just hated to see him so confused like that. Still so hurt.

Or maybe I'm too different.

Sam's need for talking about John's death seemed to be hard by watching Dean still behave like this. The younger Winchester couldn't help it; even he was so torn up about that. If this was the ache he felt about Dad, then he shied away from imagining how Dean must have been feeling.
Sam wished John was there. Sam wished those fights would be stored in the past and forgiven. But it was too late to go back. It was too late to change everything.

God, he missed him like crazy.

"Dean," Sam tried again, trying to leave these thoughts behind, "We got a case. Man, you're always so crazy about them, what happened now? They're supposed to make you feel better, right?"

He noticed Dean's finger's tighten around the steering wheel. "It's not about making me feel better, Sam."

"Then what is it? You were right, I couldn't say anything to make you feel better, but I'm trying to!"

Sam panted, a fresh set of tears reaching his eyes. He so hated to see Dean like that. Truthfully, what could he have said to console him? He was far from consoling. It was normal for him to feel that way, but how much longer would he keep hurting?
And it was so hard for Sam to even think about Dad right now. The longing would just return, the guilt of the fights would just cross his heart again. And he would embrace those emotions, but would Dean? Sam would let it go, he'd accept the way things were, the way things were turning out to be, even if that was hard.

But Dean would try to forget, not accept.

He'd accept…but not let go.

Dean's voice hadn't changed. "Yeah, we got a case. You were saying?"

Sam sighed again. "Mrs. Taylor. I contacted her daughter, Michelle. We're supposed to be her third cousins."

There was still a distant look in his brother's eyes as he slightly smiled. "And the names?"

"Mike and Joseph Jackson."

"You're kidding, right?" Dean's eyes diverted to Sam.

Sam shrugged. "I did a little research, and yeah, turns out they are her third cousins, but they're not gonna show up anytime soon. Michelle hasn't even met them…yet."

*

"Sorry about your mom," Dean said in a straightforward yet consoling tone, "We heard…and thought it wouldn't be nice if we didn't stop by."

He exchanged a glance with Sam.

Michelle's eyes were watering. She smiled faintly. "Thank you. It's nice to hear from family, even if they're distant. I'm sure you've heard many people say this, but family's everything, you know?"

Sam returned her sad smile and Dean nodded. He didn't know what to say, because it was true that he'd heard it so many times.

And deep down, he also knew that this fact was so true that it hurt. He stared back into Michelle's moist dark brown eyes. She somehow seemed to be holding back her feelings about whatever she was going through.
And somehow, he felt he could relate.

"Uh, so how were you and Mom close again?" she broke the silence.

"We, uh, met when we were really small, I think," Sam tried, "I still remember –" He hesitated. He hadn't really come up with a good theory, but so far, the cousin trick seemed to pull off.

"–the chocolate chips cookies she used to make," Dean completed hastily, "We were four, I guess."

"I don't…" she began, frowning a bit. Then, she heaved a sigh, concluding, "Well, whatever. Mom did speak of you guys, so it's nice to finally have someone with me."

"What about your dad?" Sam asked politely.

"Didn't you know? He died like four years ago," she said unemotionally. The pain in her eyes however seemed to increase, "Mom was everything to me after that…I still have my uncle, but he's a pain in the behind."

Sam looked crestfallen, like he shouldn't have asked that question. Dean stared at her for sometime before continuing. If his mind was registering correctly, she was letting bygones be bygones.

But wasn't she taking it hard?

"If we knew," Dean said slowly, "I guess we would have dropped by then. I am sorry."

Michelle nodded with a shrug, a very compressed, sad sort of a shrug.

"When…when's the funeral?" Sam hesitated once more.

"Tomorrow. You guys are welcome to come, be the way," Michelle replied, staring at her feet for a moment, and then looking up to both of them.

The Winchesters just seemed to be at a loss as in what to say. There was this sort of a vibe from her, which seemed tough to understand.

"We'll definitely pay our respects," Sam finally said.

Dean knew that the case needed to get a move on before long. He probably needed to sit down and talk to her about all this. He felt like he should. He felt like he needed to.

"Could we see the crime scene? That is, if it's okay with you," he asked.

"Everything's left as it was," Michelle explained as she led them up the stairs of her huge house, "Except the body of course."

She gingerly opened the bedroom door and allowed them inside. Sam and Dean cautiously walked in, crinkling their nose at the stench of the blood.

Michelle stood by the door as they examined the scene.

Blood. There was blood almost everywhere, as if Mrs. Taylor was ripped apart by her murderer. The papers had noted that she had been sliced from limb to limb, and every part of her skin. It definitely couldn't pass off as a case of suicide.
Whoever, or whatever, had killed her had been intensely violent. Overdriven with hatred.

Sam knelt down in front of the dressing table. He frowned as he noticed the blood splattered on the mirror.

"Hey, Dean, check this out."

Dean bent down to follow Sam's gaze. On the corner of the mirror, there were vertical streaks of blood. As he looked closely, he could understand the letters that were smudged there.

I told you I would win.

It was so tiny, yet it was such a clear message.

"Hey, Michelle?" Sam called out to her. She walked over to them in response, staring questioningly.

"Did you know about this?"

Michelle gasped in a low voice. She shook her head. "No…"

Dean eyed her, trying to figure out whether she was lying or not.

She seemed to be totally truthful.

"Did your Mom have any enemies?" Sam asked again.

She scoffed. "Are you joking? Of course not. Why do you think it's a shock to me?"

She remained quiet, her fingers clenched into a fist. A sorrowful expression settled on her.

Dean, however, could see that she was struggling to fight it.

Sam nodded. He looked over to Dean, who gave another nod.

An understanding passed between them.

Definitely our kind of case.

Sam's attention shifted back to her. "What if we told you that we wanna help you track down your mother's killer?"

Michelle's eyebrows rose. She looked skeptical. "I wanna get to the bottom of this, too, guys, she was my Mom. But, why would you wanna help me?"

"Uh…what's family for, huh?" Dean explained.

"And we have a knack for this," Sam added.

Michelle continued to gaze at both of them in an expression that indicated she felt this sudden offer was officially weird. "Being a couple of detectives when the police are already working on the case?"

"Maybe we could speed it up," Dean replied, "Trust me; we can be good at this."

And some part inside of him also urged to tell her, Trust me. You need to talk about it, or it'll kill you.