On Dean’s eighteenth birthday he’s given the mirror; it has an extravagant elongated name but most call it for what it is, the soul mate mirror, the item that you’ll look into and find your perfect soul mate. None of his family question him when he casts it aside with a barely there glance, not even bothering to unwrap it from its obvious packaging. It’s common practice that most people wait till they are alone before they look into their mirror; it’s a private thing, something that holds so much importance that it’s understandable that people don’t want to do a life changing event in front of everyone.
What everyone doesn’t realise is that Dean has no plans to look into the stupid mirror, not ever.
When his little brother asks him at the breakfast table the morning after what his supposed soul mate looks like, Dean explains with a roll of his eyes, “I didn’t look into it.”
His mother halts making the coffee and looks over at him, forehead creased.
“What?!” Sam shrieks, nearly spitting out his cereal.
“I didn’t look at it,” Dean repeats, hunching his shoulders as all three of his family members stare at him like he’s grown a second head.