The house their dad dropped them off at was old.
Dean made a joke about it from somewhere on his left before moving ahead of him to open the door. Sam wasn't paying attention though, too distracted by the cold pit forming in his stomach, warning him that something wasn't right.
He brushed it off, told himself that it was nothing, and followed behind his brother.
The next day, Sam explored the house while Dean slept.
The house was pretty big, covered in vast amounts of dead bug bodies and cobwebs with ancient looking furniture falling apart in random places. While he was poking around on the second level, he found a way into the attic, allowed his curiosity to get the better of him, and crawled in.
It was huge, bigger than he thought it would be, empty except for dust bunnies and a mirror in the corner.
The mirror was large, ornate, and beautiful. Mesmerizing.
Sam moved, reaching out to touch it, only to be stopped by the sudden call of his brother's sleepy voice. "Sammy? Where are you?"
Hand still outstretched towards the mirror, eyes still locked on it, he called back, "I'll be down in a second, Dean."
He took another moment to gaze at the mirror before leaving, not noticing that his reflection lingered for a second too long when he turned away.
It was summer, which meant no school.
Sam, who loved school so much, was relieved by the break.
Had he had school, he wouldn't have been able to spend his days in front of the mirror, ever-changing eyes locked on the reflection.
He wasn't sure why it intrigued him so much, why he craved being near it, like a junkie needing his next fix, but it became harder and harder each day to pull away each time Dean called for him.
"Hey kiddo," Dean's voice was soft as he shook Sam's shoulder, waking him from his nap in front of the mirror. "Time to wake up."
"De'n?" he mumbled, heavy lids barely opening. "Wha-" he yawned, "'t 're you..."
"It's past midnight, Sammy. Come on." Dean stood, helping his brother up.
Sam yawned again, stretching his arms above his head, jumping when Dean cried out, "What the hell is that?!"
"What?" he looked around, suddenly more alert. He frowned as his brother grabbed him, lifting his shirt up. "Dude-"
"Where the hell did you get that?" he demanded, looking carefully at the purplish bruise running along the length of Sam's right side.
Sam stared at the bruise, confusion clouding his face. "I don't know."
Dean's lips flattened into a straight line and he pulled Sam away from the mirror. "Let's go downstairs, ok?"
"Yeah," Sam nodded slowly, eyes drifting to the mirror. "Sure."
Interlude: Dean.
Dean didn't like Sam spending his days in the attic after that night.
He liked it even less when Sam refused to talk to him when he forbade him from going up there anymore.
So, Dean let him go.
(Sam returned to him with more unexplainable bruises, sweeping down the length of this his arms, hidden beneath the folds of his hand-me-down hoodie. He didn't dare tell Dean about them, afraid that he wouldn't let him back into the attic, back to his mirror.)
Sam couldn't sleep anymore, obsessed with watching his reflection in the mirror.
It made Dean worry, constantly hovering over him in full-blown mother hen mode when he wasn't working.
He commented quietly on the heavy bags under his brother's eyes, but didn't push when Sam snapped at him, yelling to leave him alone.
(Sam didn't tell him that he didn't understand what was going on anymore than his brother did.)
"Dad's coming sometime tomorrow," Dean told Sam carefully, watching as his brother stared vacantly at his half-eaten bowl of cereal.
Sam nodded absently. "Ok."
"You need to pack up before then," he continued.
"I will," Sam murmured, stirring his cereal once before standing.
"You done?"
He shrugged. "'m not all that hungry." He moved to the sink to dump out the remains. "I'm going upstairs."
Dean opened him mouth to respond, to tell him not to, only to sigh and nod. "Ok. Just don't spend all night up there."
Sam didn't answer as he left.
It was around midnight the night before their dad came to get them and Sam was sitting in front of the mirror.
He didn't really want to leave.
(If he was being honest with himself, he didn't think he'd even be able to leave.)
His reflection watched him as he watched it.
It blinked, but he didn't.
It reached for the glass while Sam's hand remained at his side.
He doesn't call for Dean like he knew he should. He only smiled, eyes hazy, and reached for the glass.
Their fingertips touched and Sam's reflection smiled, eyes glowing with a soft silver light.
Dean found Sam sleeping in front of the mirror the next morning.
"C'mon, Sammy," he shook him awake. "Dad'll be here soon."
Sam sat up slowly and nodded, silent. Dean hesitated before sighing and leaving, reminding him that he still needed to pack up his stuff.
He watched Dean leave, smiled, and glanced at the mirror, eyes dancing with a dark glee.
His reflection had his hands pressed against the glass, silently screaming for Dean to come back.
His new dad pulled away from the house, Dean riding shotgun, while he sat in the backseat.
He smiled, eyes flashing silver, before turning and falling asleep, head resting against the glass that was so different from his former prison.
He wondered how long it will be before Sam Winchester found someone to possess. How long it would take a new family to stay in that stupid house. How long it would take another curious little boy to find his way into the attic.
He wondered if Sam would ever figure out how to possess someone. But then again, if he was able to figure it out, then Sam shouldn't have any problem with it.
It was only a matter of time.
It turned out less creepy than I wanted, but whatever. May be expanded in the future.
Happy Halloween everyone!