Chapter Two

"Anything good?" Dean asked Sam as his brother scanned the newspapers for anything they could hunt. Sam looked up and stared at his brother not saying a word. He looked annoyed. "What?" Dean asked in mock innocence. He knew exactly why Sam was looking like that but still he had continued. Sam didn't speak for a moment and the silence was only permeated by the thudding of the snow mixed with hail on the rooftop of the motel.

"Stop asking me that," he told his brother eventually; the stony, annoyed looked still plastered across his face. Dean had been asking the same thing for the last half an hour and it was really beginning to get on Sam's nerves. "I'm looking as fast as I can. You want to find a hunt; look for one yourself," he irritably threw the paper towards Dean.

"What's got into you?" Dean asked, frowning slightly as he leaned over, picked up the newspaper and started to put it back together. "You're acting all pissed and irritable."

"Nothing's wrong," Sam sighed and rubbed his face with his hands. Actually, Sam was a little annoyed that Dean was so insistent about looking for a hunt when his last year was slowly slipping away and Sam still had no way to save him from Hell. Couple that with spending the last two days cooped up in a small motel room because of the horrendously bad weather; which was just beginning to subside; and you had one very cranky Sam.

"Yeah," Dean sarcastically said, "And I'm the Queen of England," he joked not looking up from the newspaper. "You gonna tell me what's the matter or are we gonna pretend your little outburst never happened." Sam didn't say anything. "Okay, pretending works for me," Dean said and went back to the paper. The silence descended upon them once more as they both pretended that nothing was wrong. Sam was the one who eventually broke the silence.

"I'm just fed up with being stuck here," he finally said. It was partially true; he really was fed up with being cooped up in a small room with only Dean and a broken television that would only show two channels in black and white for company. There was really no need for Dean to know the full reason why he was so mad. No, Dean didn't need to know that Sam was mad at him for being so complacent about his impending death and subsequent trip to Hell.

"Well the snow's stopping for the moment so we should probably leave before it starts up again," Dean said; hoping the bad weather would quickly subside. He was just as fed up as Sam was at being stuck in this damned town. He stopped when an article caught his eye. "Hey, I think I found something," he told Sam.

"What did you find?" Sam asked curiously.

"Not far from here, a guy was found comatose in his house in front of a mirror."

"So? That could be anything."

"The doctors say there's nothing physically wrong with him but he's been comatose for the last week. Hold on," Dean threw the paper to one side and picked up the journal.

"What are you looking for?" Sam asked sitting up from the bed.

"I saw something in here," Dean told him; flicking through the pages until he came to the one he was looking for. "Here it is," he handed Sam the journal and he read the page. "There's been other cases, all at that house; all the victims were found comatose under a mirror in the attic," Dean told him as he read.

"So the house might be haunted," Sam muttered rhetorically.

"That's what I'm guessing. We should go check it out," Dean rolled off the bed and began to throw his things into his bag. He took a moment to look out of the window. "It's looking grey; we should get going now before the snow starts up again."

"Fine," Sam said and did the same. He would rather spend his time finding a way out of Dean's deal because that was the most important thing to Sam but Dean was insistent. They were going to check out this hunt.

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Dean was right about the weather; it started snowing shortly after they left and soon became very heavy. The Impala struggled to move through the thick snow as it came down around them. The wipers were working overtime to keep the windscreen clear so Dean could see where he was driving.

"Crap, I can't see a damn thing," Dean grumbled as he wiped the mist that had formed on the windows for the tenth time since they had set off. "How far away are we?"

"At least another hour," Sam said as he checked the map again; squinting in the poor light. "You sure we can get there tonight?"

"We'd better. We're in the middle of nowhere. If we don't get into town then we're screwed."

"Then you'd better get driving then," Sam told him. Dean just gave him a look that screamed 'shut the hell up" and continued to drive.

Sam sat and stared at his brother; just watching him. He looked tired and it wasn't just from the late nights. He was currently yelling at the snow, cursing the fact it was so heavy and heeding their journey. Sam was amazed that Dean managed to keep up the pretence that he was all right. He acted as though nothing was wrong even though he must be terrified. Sam just wished he would stop this charade for once and tell him how he actually felt. Until then, Sam just had to be content with waiting for Dean to open up to him and to tell him exactly what was going on in his head. Although it could be a very long wait knowing Dean and his inability to share anything about his true emotions.

"I know I'm perfect but you don't need to keep staring at me," Dean's voice rose up and brought Sam out of his thoughts.

"Shut up," Sam retorted.

"Bit of a weak comeback that one, Sammy. You must be slowing down in your old age."

"Just remember that you're older than me."

"Yeah, but, I'm getting smarter," he laughed.

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They finally made it into town several hours later than anticipated and freezing cold. The Impala had managed to get them into town but it hadn't managed to keep them warm. The heating had given up a few miles ago. Once they had booked themselves into a motel and warmed up slightly they braved the lousy weather and made their way over to the house where Andy Morgan and his wife, Linda lived to interview Linda about her husband.

The poor woman had opened the door for them although she really didn't want them to be there. She was fed up with all the questions and she was fed up with the constant stream of visitors; some well wishers and some cops. All she wanted was to be left alone so she could mourn in peace. Of course, her husband wasn't actually dead yet but it felt that way. It felt as though a piece of her had been ripped out of her and now she was just floating through life, not really living more like simply existing.

"I'm sorry, but I already answered these questions with the other police officers," she wearily told them. "I just want to go back to the hospital to see my husband; the babysitter will be here soon," she bounced a fussy baby on her hip; trying to calm him down.

"I'm sorry," Sam said sympathetically, "but this will only take a moment."

"Detective…" Linda started to say but she realised she didn't know their names.

"Detective Rodgers," Dean stretched out his hands and she shook it. "This is Detective Kossoff, my partner," he smiled.

"Okay, Detectives Rodgers and Kossoff; I don't really want to talk about this."

"We just need to verify a few facts; it'll only take a moment," Dean assured her and he could see that Linda was about to cave and tell them everything. "It's very important that we know everything so we can find out exactly what happened to you husband."

"Okay," she opened the door wider so they could both enter the warm house.

"The weather's awful," Dean commented as he stepped inside and rubbed his hands together to warm them up.

"Yes," she agreed but said no more on the subject, it seemed too trivial to speak about when there were more important things at hand. "Let's just get this over with; what do you want to know?"

"Can you just go over the details of what happened that night?" Sam asked.

"We had just moved in," she explained, "It was supposed to be a new start, you know? But that night I was woken up when I heard Andy scream. I ran to the attic and I found him on the floor."

"Is there anything else you could tell us that might be of use?" Dean asked her.

Linda stood there for a moment; staring blankly at the floor before she looked up and said, "I saw someone," she whispered; almost ashamed that she was telling them. She hadn't told any of the other cops because she hadn't wanted to believe it. It was so implausible and absurd to think about it that she just wanted to forget all about it. But there was something about these two detectives that she wanted to tell them; felt compelled to inform them what she had seen. Maybe they could help her somehow.

"You saw someone?" Sam said, his voice rising at the end, "Who was it?"

"I don't know," she told them; tears forming in her eyes. "It was a woman," her voice cracked with the emotion.

"What did this woman look like?"

"She was young; she had really long red hair and bright blue eyes. She looked terrifying; absolutely horrific and she made me freeze with terror when I looked at her."

"Do you have any idea who this woman is? How did she leave the house?"

"She didn't leave the house," she said to them in a tone that suggested they were stupid for asking. "She was in the mirror and then she disappeared."

"She was in the mirror," Dean repeated but there was no shock in his voice. Any normal person would have thought the woman was mad to be spouting such words but not Sam and Dean. It was all part and parcel of their work to know about this kind of thing.

"See, you think I'm crazy," she exclaimed; misinterpreting Dean's words. "I'm not crazy I know what I saw."

"No, I don't think you're crazy," Dean reassured her. "Did you recognise her?"

"No, I've never seen her before. Are we finished? I really need to go and see my husband now," Dean and Sam could see she wasn't going to answer any more of their questions.

"I think we've got all we need," Dean nodded before they headed to the door. Linda let them out and shut the door rather brusquely. As the door closed behind them he turned to Sam, "so there was a woman in the mirror? Wonder who that could be."

"I don't know," Sam told him. "We'll have to do some research…" he stopped when he noticed that Dean wasn't listening to him. "Dean?" He asked; trying to get his attention.

"Shh," Dean told him. "Did you hear that?" Dean had heard something; it wasn't loud but now he was intrigued. He wanted to know what it was.

"Hear what?" Sam hadn't heard it; he had been too busy talking and contemplating research.

"I heard something," he moved away from Sam and quietly shuffled through the snow round to the back of the house. "Aww crap," he said when he saw who it was. It was the last person he had wanted to see, the one person who always managed to get in their way and ruin their hunts. "What are you doin' here Bela?"

"What sort of welcome is that?" She asked in her upper English tone that at times just drove Dean insane. This was definitely one of those times. Come to think of it, he was annoyed by her pretty much most of the time.

"It wasn't a welcome."

"Where's your brother?" She asked; raising her eyebrows.

"What are you doin' here?" Dean repeated and ignored her question. She didn't have a chance to reply before Sam joined them.

"What is she doing here?" He asked coldly; just as annoyed as Dean by her presence.

"I'm still waiting on an answer," Dean told him. "So, what are you planning on stealing this time?" He said as he turned back to Bela.

"I'm offended that you'd think that."

"You're a thief."

Bela sighed and rolled her eyes, "A client wants me to procure an item in that house," she was really beginning to try Dean's patience.

"Just tell me."

"A mirror. My client believes it has mystical properties, something about eternal life or some such and he wants me to steal it for him."

"I think you should stay away," Dean warned.

"Are you worried about me?"

"No, but the house is haunted."

"I'm not going to let a small thing like that stand in my way," she smiled cockily. She wasn't going to let a few words stop her from doing her job. She was, after all, being paid a lot of money to steal this mirror.

"It's your funeral then," Dean shrugged and turned away. Sam just gave her a look before following his brother.

"Should we be worried about her?" Sam asked as they made their way back to the car.

"Nah," Dean dismissed; rubbing his hands together to warm them before reaching into his pocket to find the keys. He didn't really see her as much as a threat if they managed to get there before she did. "We just gotta do this before she steals it."

"We'd better get to work then."