Mirrors

Blue Earth, Minnesota -- 1997

Two years had changed things.

At fourteen, I'd grown into my gangly limbs, though the darkness inside me had grown faster. Dean, now eighteen, moved with the fluid grace of a natural warrior, blessed weapons humming in his grip like they'd been forged for him alone.

We were at Pastor Jim's church, supposedly for training, but really because Dad had noticed more changes. More "incidents," as he called them.

"Again," Pastor Jim instructed as Dean practiced with a blessed silver sword - an ancient weapon from the church's private collection that sang in his hands like it had found its true master.

I watched from the pews, pretending to study Latin texts while actually observing how the church itself seemed to respond to Dean's presence. Like always Candles burned brighter, crosses gleamed, stained glass angels turned their heads to watch.

Two years since the Oni. Since others had stopped ignoring what we were becoming.

A shadow fell across my book. "Samuel?" Pastor Jim's voice carried concern. "You seem troubled."

If he only knew how right he was.

"Just tired," I lied, closing the book I hadn't really been reading.

Pastor Jim studied me with knowing eyes. Since the Oni incident, more creatures had started appearing in places they shouldn't be.

Ancient things, drawn to what they sensed in us. Dad thought they were after me because of my "psychic tendencies."

If only it were that simple.

"The sword recognizes him," Pastor Jim said quietly, watching Dean move through forms that looked more ceremonial than practical. "I've never seen it respond to anyone like that."

The weapon in question gleamed unnaturally bright, its blessed metal resonating with something in Dean's blood. My brother had stopped questioning these things, accepting each new "gift" as just another hunter's tool.

But I knew better. The sword recognized Michael's vessel just as creatures recognized Lucifer's. The darkness inside me stirred at the thought.

"Samuel," Pastor Jim's voice dropped lower. "There's something else. Reports from other hunters... things are stirring. Old things. They're looking for-"

A crash from the altar interrupted him. Dean had dropped the sword, staring at his hands. Light seemed to bend around him for a moment, and I could have sworn I saw-

No. It was too early for wings.

"Dean?" Pastor Jim moved quickly to my brother's side.

"I'm fine," Dean flexed his hands. "It just... it felt different for a moment. Like it was trying to tell me something."

I reached for the sword before thinking, wanting to hand it back to Dean. The moment my fingers touched the blessed metal, searing pain shot through my hand.

I felt my flesh actually melt where it contacted the blade, but years of hiding my nature had taught me control. I didn't flinch, didn't make a sound as I lifted it.

The sword seemed to recoil from my touch even as I offered it to Dean, who took it without noticing how it had marked me. Behind my back, I watched my palm regenerate, flesh knitting itself back together with unnatural speed.

"Perhaps that's enough practice for today," Pastor Jim suggested, though his eyes held questions.

Before Dean could respond, the church doors burst open. Dad stood there, expression grim.

"We've got trouble," he announced. "Bobby called. Something's happening in Nebraska. Something big."

I flexed my newly healed hand, the darkness inside me churning with both pain and satisfaction. The sword had rejected Lucifer's vessel violently, but that rejection had only confirmed what I already knew.

We were becoming what we were meant to be, whether we wanted to or not.

"What kind of trouble?" Dean asked, the sword now quiet in his grip.

"Mass disappearances near Broken Bow. Cattle deaths. Weather patterns." Dad's eyes flickered to me at that last part, but for once, the strange weather wasn't my doing.

"I'll get my books," Pastor Jim started toward his study, but Dad shook his head.

"No time. Whatever's happening, it's accelerating. Three more people vanished while I was on the phone with Bobby."

Dean moved to pack up the weapons, but Pastor Jim stopped him. "Keep the sword," he said quietly. "It... suits you."

I watched Dean wrap the blade carefully, noting how it still hummed contentedly at his touch while my own hand tingled with remembered pain.

Sacred weapons loved Michael's vessel.

They burned Lucifer's.

The drive to Nebraska was quiet. Dean cleaned his new sword in the back seat while Dad made calls. I stared out the window, watching my reflection in the glass.

The darkness inside me had grown stronger these past two years. Harder to hide. Harder to control. But also more useful. More purposeful.

"Bobby says the omens started three days ago," Dad was saying. "Temperature drops, electrical storms, animals acting strange."

Dean looked up from his sword. "Sounds like-"

"Like what happened in Mitchell's house," Dad finished. "Before the Oni."

My hand twinged at the memory. It had all really started since that day, more blessed objects had started rejecting my touch.

Crosses would always invert- no longer only when my mood was dark, holy water would boil, sacred ground would crack beneath my feet. Small signs I'd learned to hide or explain away.

Even though probably no one believed me, their own willful denial being the reason.

But that is not all. Dean's affinity for sacred things had grown too. The sword was just the latest example. Blessed weapons sang for him, prayers came to his lips without thought, churches welcomed him like a long-lost son.

We were mirror images now. Sacred and profane. Light and dark.

Just as we were meant to be.

The road, as I was lost in my thoughts continued to stretch endlessly before us, Dean's new sword casting a subtle glow from its sheath. Each streetlight we passed brightened at his presence, while dimming as I followed in his wake.

At a gas station stop, the small chapel across the street chimed its bell without wind or hand to move it.

"Two hours to Broken Bow," Dad announced as we merged back onto the highway. "We'll arrive by dawn."

Dawn - when my brother's connection to the sacred would peak, though he remained oblivious. When my own nature would settle into waiting silence.

The sword's soft resonance filled the car, a counterpoint to deeper currents.

Whatever awaited us in Nebraska would face two sides of the same coin.

And learn the price of challenging what we are.

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(Author note: Hello everyone! I hope you all enjoyed the chapter!

I know things probably feel slow right now, but that's kind of the point, because I still wish to truly establish what Sam and Dean's nature more firmly.

So yeah, I hope you all enjoyed,

See you all later,

Bye!)