Swapping

By Gillian

It was warm, and for a change Dean didn't have a bruise someplace, or cuts and scrapes he couldn't put any pressure on. For a change something didn't throb with pain. It was one of those rare occasions when he could sprawl on the bed and enjoy the caress of the warm covers over him and the press of his brother's body next to him.

Sam was stirring and Dean's mouth curved in a smile of anticipation even before the remnants of sleep fled. He was warm and comfortable and the drag of Sam's long leg against his own as Sam rolled over turned his thoughts away from cozy and firmly towards sexy.

"Mmm," he sighed as a hand flapped over him, fumbled for a moment and then pressed very firmly against his chest.

"What the fuck?" Sam was screeching, and then the warm bliss of the covers was pulled away as Dean felt a flurry of long limbs. He turned his head in time to see Sam scrambling off the bed and retreating to the far side of the room, covers and sheets and all dragged along with him and held up high to his chest. He was the very picture of maidenly modesty and Dean suppressed a yawn and kept his gaze fixed on him with idle curiosity.

"What the hell are you doing?" he asked mildly.

Sam clutched the covers more firmly, big hand bunching in the worn fabric of the motel's idea of a bedspread. "D.. Dean?" he stuttered.

Dean rolled over and shivered a little, his body clad only in boxer shorts protesting the sudden absence of his nice warm covers. "Yeah, Dean," he muttered, a trifle resentful at the rude awakening. "Who were you expecting?"

Sam's gaze was horrified as he stared at his brother, then flicked his glance around the room and then down at himself. "What's happening?" he whispered and Dean suddenly realized that this was more than some bad dream stirring his little brother.

"You tell me," he said, sitting up and rubbing his face. "You're the one who looks like he's seen a ghost." A thought occurred to him and he glanced quickly around the room. "You didn't see a ghost did you?"

"Where the hell are we?" Sam asked desperately and now Dean really started to worry.

"We're in the same place we were yesterday," he said slowly and carefully. "Oklahoma. Nice little place called Sand Springs to be precise."

"Oklahoma?" Sam repeated incredulously. "That's not funny, Dean. How the hell did you get me out of the house and into this room?" He glanced swiftly around again. "Is this a motel?"

Dean stood up and edged cautiously around the bed, keeping his eyes on his brother, unsure of what was going on but recognizing genuine fear and worry when he saw it.

"Look, Sammy," he said softly. "Just take a second to breathe here, dude, because you look like you're about to have a panic attack, okay?"

Sam's wide worried eyes blinked and then focused on his brother. He breathed hard once or twice and his tense shoulders relaxed a fraction.

Dean nodded, encouraged by the progress. "Now whatever is going on, we'll fix it, right? I'm here and we will fix it. But first you need to relax, man."

"Relax?" Sam demanded incredulously. "Hilarious, Dean, really hilarious. I'll relax when you let me in on the freakin' joke."

"Do I look like I'm laughing?" Dean demanded. "Now I'm serious here, Sam. Stop looking like you're scared to death and tell me what the hell's wrong with you!"

The order seemed to work when coaxing wouldn't. Expressive face twitching a little, Sam released his death grip on the blankets and stepped away from the wall.

"Okay," Dean said grudgingly. "Better. Now, care to tell me what this is all about?"

"I don't know," Sam said, sinking down on the end of the bed weakly. "I went to bed in my own room last night and now I wake up here. In bed." He gulped and turned his mouth down. "With you."

"Okay," Dean said carefully. "Not sure I'm happy about the tragic face you put on at that last bit, but, we're talking, this is good. Wait a minute. Your own room?"

"Yeah," Sam said, brow furrowed. "My old room, at home."

Dean shook his head uncomprehendingly. "Home?"

Sam looked at him like he was crazy. "Yeah," he said as if it were obvious. "Lawrence."

Dean blinked in stunned surprise. "Lawrence?" he repeated stupidly. "Home?"

"Yeah, I live there now, remember? Since I took a break from med school?"

All thoughts about a bad dream or a vision were flying out the window and Dean sank down on the other bed, anxiety gripping him. Sam looked so seriously earnest sitting there spouting this nonsense, his hair falling into his eyes, his face still creased from sleep.

"Med school," Dean repeated, mind racing. What the hell was going on?

"Will you stop repeating everything I say," Sam said irritably, pushing his hair back off his brow huffily.

"Sorry," Dean said automatically. Maybe it had been a dream and Sam was still caught up in it. Could this be some fancy psychic sleepwalking thing? Or was Sam channeling somebody else's life?

Memories of the Yellow-Eyed Demon popped into his head along with all these other thoughts and Dean knew he had to take the next few minutes very carefully. Old wives tales about waking sleepwalkers mingled with memories of Sam's previous dreams and visions, all centering around the demon that had killed their mother and Jessica.

"Um," Dean began. "Maybe you should just tell me the last thing you remember," he ventured. "Before you you went to sleep in your own room I mean," he tacked on hastily.

Sam looked at him uncertainly. "Okay," he said dubiously. "I, um, stayed up late watching a war movie with Dad."

Dean jerked involuntarily at the mention of his father but froze when Sam paused and looked at him curiously.

"What?"

"Nothing, go on."

Sam shook his head. "I watched the DVD with him until midnight. Mom only made it as far as the gory battle bit before she went to bed."

Dean only nodded now, more sure than ever that Sam was somehow channeling someone else's life. Maybe a ghost or spirit and why hadn't they salted the damn doors and windows last night? Just because they weren't on an actual hunt right now...

"Last thing Dad said to me when he wished me good night was to remind me that you were coming by to take Lisa and me to breakfast this morning. Pancakes," he added, then trailed off. "Uh, that's it. I went to bed and woke up here."

"Lisa?" Dean said, wondering what the hell he and a pancake breakfast had to do with this. "Who is Lisa?"

The dubious look faded from Sam's face and was replaced by fear. "What do you mean, who's Lisa?" he demanded, tensing up again. "Lisa, Dean. Our sister, Lisa?"

Dean felt an echo of Sam's panic but fought to keep it off his face. "We don't have a sister, Sammy," he said patiently. "There's just you and me, okay?"

Sam shook his head, mouth open as if he was searching in vain for something to say to that.

"Look, Sam," Dean said firmly. "I don't know if this is one of your visions or your dreams or what. But at the risk of sounding like Dorothy, we're not in Kansas any more. Okay? There's no mom, Dad is dead and we never, and let me repeat this, never. Had. A sister."

"Oh my god," Sam said, face going slack and eyes glazing. "Oh my god," he breathed, eyes again darting around the room. And then he sprang to his feet and was leaning over Dean, who leaned back away as Sam stared at his face. "It's you," Sam burst out. "I'm there. Oh my god, I'm there!"

"Well you're somewhere," Dean muttered, taking hold of broad shoulders and pushing his brother away from him. "And from where I'm sitting you look like you smoked something serious to get there."

But Sam wasn't listening, his eyes were wild and wide open as he raked them over Dean's face. "You have a scar on your cheek," he babbled. "And your hair's darker and shorter, why didn't I notice that? Well, I mean, who would notice that? Who expects something like this to happen?"

"Sam, dude you are scaring the crap out of me," Dean said honestly, propelling his brother backwards and pushing him back down on the bed. "Will you, will you just shut up for a minute!" he yelled, and Sam's incoherent babbling died away and he was left with his little brother staring wide eyed at him, hair still mussed and rumpled, mouth still half open.

"Okay, that's better," Dean said, rubbing at his face as he tried to think. "Now we just gotta stay calm and we can figure this out," he said, half to himself.

"I have figured it out," Sam enthused. "Well, not figured it all out, obviously. But at least I know what's happening. Or, not exactly what's happening-"

"Sam!" Dean roared. "For god's sake, at least try to make sense!"

"Okay!" Sam shouted back, then deliberately straightened his face and took a deep breath. Dean stepped away from him and did the same, more relieved than he could say to see Sam calm down and stop ranting.

"Okay," Sam repeated more quietly. "I'm sorry this is scaring you," he said sincerely. "I didn't know what was going on there for a few minutes, but now I think I'm getting a handle on it."

"Really?" Dean said hopefully, feeling almost weak with relief.

"Yeah," Sam said confidently. "Okay, start at the beginning," he said to himself. "My name is Sam Winchester and I'm 23 years old."

"Dude, when you said beginning..." Dean ventured but closed his mouth when Sam glared at him.

"Please, just let me get this out, okay?" Sam said tightly. "Then we can do the questions comments thing later."

"Yes, teacher," Dean said sarcastically, but sat obediently and tried to look alert. Sheer relief was flooding him anyway. At least Sam sounded sane again.

Moments later he was revising that.

"I live in Lawrence, Kansas, in the house I was born in, with my parents and my teenage sister. Lisa," he said significantly

Dean bit the inside of his mouth but didn't interrupt.

"My dad owns a string of garages and you, I mean, my brother, Dean, manages half of them for him. He's a mechanic like my dad, but he took a business course in college because he wanted to go into the family business."

Sam went on and Dean watched and listened silently, as Sam told the story of the perfect life they had never had. Apple pie and cookies. Little League and soccer. A sister born four years after Sam.

"You always tease her about being an accident," Sam half smiled at the memory. "I mean, my Dean teases her. But never in front of Dad." He paused and looked at Dean perceptively. "You don't believe me, do you?"

"Hey," Dean said, striving for lightness through the drag of worry. "What's not to believe?"

"Just let me finish," Sam said confidently. "I'm getting there. Anyway, a year or so ago I started having these... dreams. Nightmares, I guess."

Dean's attention sharpened as Sam's face darkened. "They were horrible, but so real. There was this woman, I didn't know who, on the ceiling. Bleeding, burning, dying."

"You didn't know her?" Dean interrupted.

"At first it was just dreams, you know? Still dreams about this poor woman, but also about monsters, people drowning, corpses with their eyes gouged out." Sam shivered, eyes lost in the past. "It scared the hell outta me. I thought I was going nuts."

Dean couldn't help the look on his face then, and Sam's saw it and glared. "I'm not crazy," he said firmly. "You have to believe that, Dean. Because my Dean, in my reality, he's the only who believed me."

"Your reality?" Dean repeated. "What the hell does that mean?"

"I'll tell you," Sam insisted. "Anyway, after the dreams came the visions and I was forced to take a sabbatical from my studies. I could barely function, let alone concentrate on my work. I moved back home and sought help." Sam shrugged, lips twisting. "Dad wouldn't talk about it and Mom worried herself sick but the general consensus seemed to be that I was suffering from a mental illness. They talked about depression, anxiety disorders, schizophrenia for god's sake. Nothing I hadn't thought about and researched myself."

"Because you're a med student," Dean recalled numbly.

"Yeah, I was." Another bitter twist of his lips. "So my family is whispering behind closed doors and plastering encouraging smiles on their faces but something weird is happening to me. Because the visions and the dreams, they're all starting to make sense. I began to realize that these weren't random glimpses of insanity, but that I was actually seeing a life. Someone else's life. But still my life."

"Your life?" Dean said, beyond rational thought and just going along.

"Well, his life. Your Sam's life. Another Sam Winchester's life. A Sam Winchester who didn't have a mother or a home. A Sam Winchester who seemed to spend his time fighting ghosts and exorcising demons. As you can imagine, I couldn't tell my family or my doctor about this. I wasn't so far gone that I didn't know how that would sound."

"It sounds..." Dean tried to find the words but could only come up with one.

"Crazy, I know," Sam said grimly. "But I also couldn't keep it all bottled up inside me. I needed help. So I came to you." He shook his head impatiently. "Him. My brother, Dean."

"The other me," Dean filled in. "Nice guy is he?"

Sam's glance flickered down and then back up again. "He's my brother," he said simply. "We've had our... problems over the years, but I knew I could come to him. And I was right. He listened, he believed me and he helped. Or at least he found me someone who could."

"He believed you?" Dean said incredulously. "Sam, we do this kind of weird shit every day and I don't believe you. Are you telling me mild mannered mechanic Dean-alternate reality-Winchester believed you?"

Sam frowned. "He did," he insisted.

"He might have said he did," Dean huffed a mirthless laugh. "Dude, he was humoring you. Probably as freaked as I am now."

"For someone who doesn't believe me you sure have a lot to say about it," Sam shot back angrily.

"Hey, I'm humoring you too," Dean said, his own temper fraying.

"Well, all right, smart guy, if he didn't believe me, why did he take me to Missouri Mosely?"

Dean blinked. "Missouri?"

"Yeah, the psychic," Sam said triumphantly. "She took one look at me and knew something was wrong. She's the one who told me I was seeing another version of myself, in another world, living another life."

"Oh, she did, did she?" Dean said thoughtfully. "And did she happen to tell you why?"

Sam shrugged, cheeks turning a little pink. "She said I have psychic abilities," he admitted, looking embarrassed. "And that your Sam does too. She said I was tuning into him, but she didn't know why."

"Tuning in, huh?" Dean mused.

Sam leaned forward. "Are you starting to believe me?" he asked eagerly.

Dean shook his head. "Sorry, no," he said baldly. "I mean, alternate reality aside, how the hell did you get from there to here?"

"That's the part I'm not sure about," Sam admitted. "Missouri taught me some relaxation stuff, and some exercises to sharpen my focus. She said all I had to do was learn to block it all out. And it worked, the dreams faded, the visions and the headaches stopped."

"So what happened?" Dean narrowed his eyes, still not believing but wanting to hear the rest of the story.

Now Sam's cheeks pinkened even more and he was looking down and away. "I don't know," he murmured. "It was so good to get control back. So good to actually be able to tell my parents that I was getting better and see them believe it. But..."

"But what?"

"But there was just some part of me caught up in that world. In this world," Sam admitted. "I was curious to see if I could really control my ability, or if all I could do was block it out. So I used what I learned from Missouri. I harnessed my thoughts and I focused them. I concentrated on that other world, this world." Sam gestured around him.

"I didn't think anything happened. I just... went to sleep."

"And when you woke up it didn't occur to you that you were there?" Dean asked incredulously. "I mean here?"

"Well, no," Sam said defensively. "I mean, how could it? Why would it? I'm not in the habit of swapping minds with another me from an alternate reality, am I?"

"Swapping minds? Like, that's still my Sam's body but your mind is in it?" Dean paused, a thought occurring to him. Not that he believed any of this, not for a second. But, well, there that other thought was and it wasn't to be denied.

"Wait a minute. If you're here... Where the hell is my Sam?"

-666-

"Hey?" Dean's voice was soft and coaxing and it sent a shiver down Sam's spine. He smiled, still half asleep, already half aroused.

"Mmm?"

"Wake up sleepy head." A strand of his hair was lifted and Sam winced as it was tugged, not very gently.

"You're gonna pay for that," Sam muttered, turning and grabbing the hand before it could withdraw. With an oof Dean was over and on the bed next to him and Sam only had a moment to wonder why his brother had been standing by the bed fully dressed when realization hit him all at once, like an avalanche.

This wasn't the bed he'd climbed into the night before. The room was light and filled with a gentle breeze. And Dean was...

Not Dean.

"Uh, Sam? Is there something you want to tell me?" the man half under him said teasingly. Little laugh lines crinkled at the corner of his eyes, other than that his face was smooth, unmarked except for a scattering of freckles across his nose. "Something that involves you waking up and dragging men into bed with you?"

"Oh my god." The hair was longer, blonder. His skin was smoother somehow, there were less lines on his face and... was that...?

The man's teasing smirk faded and he frowned a little. "Hey, Sammy, I was just teasing you. I wasn't talking about... you know. Sammy?"

"A pink shirt?" Sam croaked.

"What?"

He looked like Dean, he talked like Dean. Even that frown, the way his brow puckered, the anxious look forming in his green eyes.

But this was not Dean.

"Dude, is it another one of those visions? I thought the relaxation stuff was working?"

"Visions?" Sam rasped, and he pulled back, let this look-alike scramble out from under him and push back against the headboard of the bed. A quick glance around the room confirmed what he knew. He had never seen this place before in his life. Starkly simple, obviously masculine, blue drapes at the windows with long net curtains between them, billowing in the morning breeze. A desk, a laptop resting on it, shelves above it with lines of pennants and trophies.

His attention was caught by a flag boldly emblazoned with a lion's head. Lawrence High School.

"Lawrence," Sam whispered.

"Oh, man," the Dean look-alike muttered.

"Hey, guys? What's the hold up?" A petite blonde teen appeared in the doorway, casually dressed in jeans and light hooded jacket. She raised a curious brow at the pair of them. "You were supposed to be waking him up, Dean, not..." She frowned, trailing off. "What's wrong?"

"Who the hell is that?" Sam managed, fighting the urge to leap to his feet and flee the room. Whatever was happening he didn't appear to be in any immediate danger. And despite what the look-alike Dean said, this was no vision.

It was way too real for that.

"Uh oh," the girl in the doorway said, backing up a step. "I'm getting Mom."

"No, you're not," Dean muttered, and he sprang off the bed and grabbed the girl, dragging her into the room and closing the door firmly behind him. "Get in here."

"Let go of me!" the girl said indignantly.

"For once in your life just listen, okay?" Dean said roughly, letting go of her arm but staying firmly in front of the closed door.

The girl shot Sam a glance. "Dean," she hissed, and Sam blinked as he realized that the look-alike Dean really was Dean, to her at any rate. "He's obviously sick again. He needs help."

"No he doesn't," Dean said, setting his jaw in a way all too familiar to Sam. "He needs us, okay? You and me."

"I'd listen to him," Sam said mildly, tired of being ignored. "When he gets that look on his face there's no budging him."

"Oh, great," the girl said in disgust. "Him you remember. All I get is a 'who the hell is that?' Nice."

"Lisa will you just sit down and let me think, please? The last thing Sam needs is us running to Mom and worrying her." He looked up and pinned his own worried gaze on Sam. "This is just... a setback." He turned and pinned Sam with his gaze. "Did you do that whole relaxation thing last night?"

"Relaxation," Lisa scoffed, crossing to the bed and sitting down. Sam shifted back a little, curious at her casual familiarity, then titled his head and stared hard.

"Wow," he said, amazed. If he'd ever wondered what a female Dean might look like, and he never had, she was sitting next to him now, studying him curiously. Green eyes, straight nose, feminine version of that jaw line and chin.

"Oh, yeah," she drawled sarcastically. "A setback, sure. Dean, he's looking at me like he's never seen me before in his life!"

"You're supposed to be my sister, right?" Sam realized. "This is supposed to be Lawrence, I'm supposed to believe you are my brother." He pointed at Dean. "And that your little feminine double here is my sister?"

"Hey," both Dean and Lisa said.

"She looks nothing like me!"

"I take after my Mom!"

"Cute," Sam said succinctly. "A double act." He climbed out of bed, noting the shorts and dark blue t-shirt that he had never seen before. It had a logo on the front and Sam read it upside down. Winchester Auto. Another nice touch. "Well, the little act, for what it's worth, is wasted on me. Wherever the hell this is, I know it's not my home. Because I don't have a home."

Lisa was standing now too, and she and Dean side by side were actually quite a dazzling sight. But Sam wasn't going to allow himself to be distracted by whatever it was that was doing this to him. He had to get out of here, and he had to find Dean.

"You still think this is nothing?" Lisa was saying worriedly. "Look at him, Dean! He doesn't even know us!"

"Oh, I know him," Sam said, nodding towards the Dean look-alike. "At least I know who you're pretending to be. My brother. But I don't have a sister," he said simply. "Or a mother, come to that. There's just me and Dean."

And for a moment his fear and his worry for Dean gripped him and he lowered his eyes and fought for control.

"Forget Mom," Lisa muttered. "I'm calling Dad."

"No, wait a minute," Dean said, and Sam looked up and saw sudden understanding on the face so like his brother's. "Wait a minute. Just you and me? No one else?"

Sam blinked at the intensity of that gaze.

"You and me traveling around in a black Chevy Impala?"

"Dad's car?" Lisa said incredulously. "As if."

"Don't you get it?" Dean said. "This is what he was seeing. His visions, his nightmares. The demons and the spirits. He's not dreaming about it, now he thinks he's living it." Dean lifted a shaking hand to his brow. "Oh god."

"Visions?" Sam said, as Dean rubbed the lines on his forehead worriedly. "You said that before. What visions?"

"This is your fault," Lisa accused, turning to Dean. "Dragging him around, encouraging him to stop seeing the doctor. Look at him, Dean! He's gotten worse!"

"I thought I was helping him," Dean said defensively. "He was so much better after we saw Missouri."

"Yeah, well, you and your psychic friend have broken him."

"He's not broken-"

"He so is-"

"Will you two be quiet!" Sam bellowed and they both closed their mouths and looked at him. "Thank you. Jeez, are you always like this?"

"He picks on me," Lisa said sullenly.

"Daddy's princess," Dean muttered.

"Look," Sam said patiently. "All I want to do is find out what the hell is going on here, okay? So you." He pointed at Dean. "Talk. Tell me about these visions. And you." He fixed a glare on Lisa as she was opening her mouth and she closed it again quickly. "Just keep quiet for a second, will you?"

"That might be asking for a miracle," Dean smirked, then raised his hands defensively as Sam turned a frown on him. "Okay, Sammy, calm down. It all started about a year ago..."

Sam listened patiently, sitting back on the bed while Lisa draped herself on his desk chair and Dean leaned against the back of the door. He heard about med school, and some girlfriend who hadn't been able to cope with his 'illness'. He heard about his parents worry and the doctors diagnosis. Then he bent his head and listened attentively when talk turned to Missouri.

"One of the older mechanics at the Topeka garage told me about her, said she was really good." Dean shrugged. "Then you said you'd seen her in one of your... visions. I thought she might help."

"And did she?"

"She seemed to. She showed you all this breathing stuff, these relaxation techniques. Stuff about focusing your mind. It was all a bit much for me."

"You took him to your loony psychic fraud to mess with his head," Lisa said with disbelief. "And you don't even know exactly what she was doing?"

"She was helping. He was better."

"Yeah, well, he's not better now, is he, Dean."

"No," Sam said thoughtfully. "In fact I'm not him at all."

Two pairs of green eyes blinked at him uncomprehendingly.

"I'm the other Sam," Sam said simply.

"Uh huh," Dean said slowly. "We kind of got that."

"No," Sam said patiently. "I don't think I'm the other Sam. I am the other Sam. The one whose mother was killed by a demon when he was six months old. Who grew up with his father and brother on the road. Who doesn't have a sister." He glanced at the teenager sitting at the desk. "Sorry."

"A world without Princess Lisa," Dean mused. "I'm can see why that would look attractive to you."

"Jerk."

"Brat."

"Seriously, are you two always like this?" Sam wasn't sure how much of this he believed or understood, but for now he was trusting his senses. And there was a rightness to all this, despite the total insanity of it. For now he would play along and see where it was all going. If it was some kind of trap, it was a seductive one.

"What are we gonna do?" Lisa said.

Dean was still frowning and biting his lip. Sam found himself following the movement and blinked and looked away. This was not his Dean, he had to keep that in mind. Maybe it was his brother from some alternate reality, maybe this was all some freaky demon trick, although like nothing he'd ever heard of admittedly.

Either way, this Dean, with the pink shirt and the artfully ripped jeans and the gold watch on his wrist was not his Dean.

It was kind of fascinating though.

"Missouri," Dean said. "She might have an idea of what happened. Why Sammy seemed to be getting better and now this has happened."

"You're kidding right?" Lisa exclaimed, but Sam nodded.

"You're right," he said to Dean thoughtfully. "She might know what's going on."

"Oh this is just-" Lisa began incredulously, but Dean glared at her and she subsided with a scowl.

"We'll do whatever Sam feels he needs to do," Dean said meaningfully and Lisa rolled her eyes and Sam barely stopped himself from doing the same. He knew when he was being humored, although his Dean knew better than to do it except in jest.

Sam let Dean grab a pair of jeans from a chest of drawers while Lisa pulled shoes from his wardrobe. He was already thinking in terms of his Dean and this Dean, and it struck him funny for a moment. He'd dealt with amnesia-Dean who didn't know him, then lover-Dean who knew him better than anyone. And now he had alternate reality-Dean who hovered while Sam pulled torn and frayed jeans up long legs and handed him clean socks to put on.

"What?" Dean said when Sam chuckled and shook his head.

"Nothing," Sam said. pulling on his shoes. "Just, my life is pretty weird."

Dean and Lisa traded worried looks.

"No kidding," his 'sister' muttered.

-666-

"So, med school, huh?" Dean said weakly as Sam devoured a stack of pancakes.

"This is so weird," Sam said thickly. "We were supposed to go for breakfast this morning, Dean and Lisa and I."

"So you said." Dean sipped his coffee, slightly nauseated by the sheer enthusiasm Sam was showing for his food. The way the younger man forked up that last bite and chased the remains of the syrup around the plate. Dean shuddered and looked away.

"Not eating?" Sam said curiously, washing down the pancakes with soda. And seriously, who drank cola for breakfast?

"Not really hungry," Dean murmured. "So, Sam. Had any thoughts yet, about what we should do?"

"I think it's obvious," Sam said, leaning back against the leatherette bench and suppressing a small burp. "Missouri."

"I was afraid you were gonna say that," Dean said sourly.

Sam tilted his head in a familiar manner and for a moment Dean was sure this was all in Sam's mind, that there was no such place as this other world where demons and ghosts didn't exist, or at least didn't exist for the Winchester family.

"I thought you liked Missouri."

And then Dean was unsure all over again, because Sam looked so surprised and curious.

And there was something else, something harder to put his finger on. Sam was... different. There was a different look in his eyes for one thing. He seemed so open and relaxed and even happy. And the way he moved, still gracefully for such a tall young man, but with none of the coiled power his Sam had in his walk, none of the leashed strength as he sat sprawled casually in the booth.

Dean looked at Sam's hand, finger idly stroking the condensation on the side of his glass. Last night that hand had cupped the back of Dean's neck, stroked down Dean's back and curved around his butt. That hand had gripped and slicked and moved in perfect counterpoint to that mouth, now wrapping its lips around the straw and slurping happily.

But Dean was coming to the firm conclusion that it might have been that hand and those lips, but it had not been this Sam.

All of a sudden Dean missed his Sam with an almost physical pain. His hand tightened around the cooling coffee and he set his jaw.

"I'm sure he's okay," Sam said softly, and Dean shot him a glance and took in the concerned smile. "Really. It's not like there's anything that can hurt him in my reality. This is the one with the ghosts and demons and stuff, right?"

Dean grimaced and cast a quick look around the crowded restaurant. "That's not a fact we like to advertise, Sam," he hissed.

Sam looked contrite but intrigued. He leaned forward. "Sorry," he whispered conspiratorially.

Dean shook his head. This Sam sure had a lot to learn.

-666-

Sam followed Dean and Lisa down the hall, staring around him in fascination. He'd been in this house before, he remembered this hall, these doors, the whole place. But someone else had been living here then, it had been a stranger's house, with a stranger's clothes hanging in the wardrobes, a stranger's pictures hanging on the walls. These pictures though, a soldier in a World War One uniform, a stiff looking couple posing formally in an old black and white photograph. Who were these people to him?

A radio was playing downstairs and Dean was already pulling car keys from his back pocket as they clattered through the hall. But now Sam could hear a voice singing along with the tune and he stopped, realization hitting him.

If this was real... If he really was in some alternate reality... Then that was his mother in there, humming along to the Dixie Chicks.

Mom.

"Dean?" Lisa hissed, pushing past him. "He's freaking out."

"Sam?" Dean's voice was concerned and he turned from the open door. The morning sunlight framed him, caught the blonde in his hair and the smooth unscarred skin of his cheeks.

This man was not his brother. This teenage girl was not his sister. And that was not his mother in there.

But she was as close as Sam was going to get. And he wanted to see her.

"Where's he going?"

"Sam, don't! You'll only worry her!"

The kitchen was so much brighter than when Jenny lived in it. White walls, yellow curtains, gleaming wooden cabinets. And a woman sitting at the table, bent over a book. Still humming even as she clicked at a calculator and crossed something out on the page.

"Mom," Sam whispered, and she looked up and she was just as he remembered from that one brief glance months before, and yet totally different. She smiled, lines by her eyes creasing just as Dean's did when he smiled. Her hair was just as fair but shorter now, a gleaming cap of gold shot through with silver.

"Morning, honey," she smiled. "I thought you all would be gone by now."

Dean was behind him, hovering nervously, Lisa on his other side.

Sam wanted to say something, but could only smile back, the corner of his mouth turning up almost by itself. He was overwhelmed, he was tongue-tied, he was full of love. But mostly he just felt... happy. Happy to see her here at her kitchen table, smiling, green eyes so serene and content.

"We're just running a bit late," Dean said, tossing the car keys nervously from one hand to the other. "Sleepy-head here didn't want to get out of bed."

"We're just going," Lisa chimed in, tugging at Sam's arm.

Their mother's attention was focused on Sam, and a small frown knit her brow. "You okay, honey? Sammy?"

Now Sam's smile was a little wider. She called him Sammy.

"You look pretty today, Mom," he said huskily, and she actually blushed a little, looked down at the pink blouse she was wearing and chuckled.

"I should hope so, since you bought me this blouse for Mother's Day." She stood up and crossed to him and Sam was amazed all over again by how small she was. A lot of people were shorter than Sam, but this was his mom, and here she was, her fair head barely reaching his shoulder. She reached up and cupped his face with one hand and he automatically bent over as she raised herself on tip-toes and pressed her lips to his cheek.

"My big tall boy," she murmured, teasing a lock of hair off his forehead before he could straighten up. "You need a hair cut, Sam."

"Okay," Sam agreed, eyes eating up her face, breathing deeply to absorb her scent. Taking in every moment of this so that he could describe it to Dean later.

"We won't be long, Mom," Dean said, and now he took Sam's arm too and hauled on it.

"Be good, Dean," Mom said, kissing his cheek and then Lisa's. "No fighting."

"Later, Mom," Lisa called and dazed with emotion Sam let himself be led out into the hall and down the front steps.

"Well that was weird," Lisa breathed as the front door closed behind them. "I'd swear he really had never seen her before."

I have seen her before, Sam thought. But she was just a lonely spirit then - haunting the house where she died. The emotion filling his chest rose up and choked him for a moment and he had to stop, eyes blurring with tears. Dean was next to him, holding his elbow, supporting him as everything faded away and Sam spent a moment lost in grief.

"It's okay, Sammy," Dean murmured reassuringly, and even though it wasn't his Dean, that voice did the trick and Sam started to breathe again, the world coming back into focus. "Maybe we should take him to a doctor," Dean was saying now, his voice shaking with worry, but Sam only shook his head numbly.

"Missouri," he said, but what he meant was get me away from here before I go back in there and wrap my arms around my mother and never let her go.

-666-

"So, what's up with Dad giving you his car anyway?" Sam said, running one big hand over the scarred dashboard. "The damn thing's his baby."

"He gave it to me when I turned eighteen. I think he just wanted to get a new truck. You should have seen it, all souped up to hell." Dean shot his not-brother a look, wondering if he knew that Dad was gone in this reality.

"Yeah, but, man," Sam said, leaning back as Dean turned the Impala onto the Interstate. "He loves this car. Every weekend he's out polishing it and messing around under the hood. When he took Mom on a road trip for their second honeymoon they drove this car. He loves this car."

"A road trip? For a second honey moon? What, he couldn't spring for tickets to Hawaii?"

"Oh, Mom hates flying," Sam explained.

Dean considered this. "Huh."

"Anyway, they went to the Grand Canyon and stuff. Mom seemed to enjoy it." Sam looked around happily at the scenery flashing by. "I bet you've seen some interesting places. I can't imagine what it must be like, on the road all the time, seeing the country. Must be great!"

Dean cocked a curious brow at the boyish enthusiasm. "You know, Sam," he said carefully. "We haven't really talked much about those visions you were having. Of this reality, I mean."

"I told you. First it was the dreams, then the visions."

"Yeah, well you seem to have had quite a glimpse into our lives. How, uh, detailed would you say those glimpses were?"

"Huh?" Sam frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Well..." Dean sought for an example that didn't mean coming straight out and asking if this Sam had seen him and his Sam playing hide the salami for the last few months. "You said you were dreaming about the girl on the ceiling."

"Jessica," Sam said, shuddering.

"There, see, that's what I mean," Dean pounced. "You said she was a stranger when you dreamed about her, but now you know her name?"

"Yeah, she was a stranger then. But when the dreams turned to visions I guess I was seeing things through Sam's eyes. Thinking things, and feeling stuff."

"Stuff," Dean repeated, taking his eyes of the road for a second to try and gauge the expression on Sam's face at that point. But Sam was still just sitting contentedly, looking out the window. "What sort of stuff?"

"I don't know. All sorts. Like he was pulled down some stairs once, and that hurt like hell. But I don't know how that happened or who did it, I just felt the hand around my ankle and the pain."

"Were all the visions like that?"

"Some were clearer than others. Sometimes pain, sometimes worry or fear. But other times it was good stuff, you know? Feeling happy, and safe."

"Safe?" Dean repeated incredulously. "Don't know that Sam's been feeling much of that his whole life."

"Yeah, well lately things seemed a lot better," Sam mused. "I'm not sure why. I'll tell you one thing though," Sam broke off with a chuckle. "I think he's finally getting over losing his girlfriend. Cos, Dean, man. He has been getting some serious action lately!"

Dean shot Sam a horrified look then firmly fixed his gaze back on the road. Misinterpreting the look and the silence Sam rushed into speech.

"Oh, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean any disrespect to his girlfriend, I know he really loved her. I mean, I could feel his grief for so long, you know? It really hurt like hell."

"Must be weird," Dean said, clearing his throat and striving for a normal tone. "To be grieving for someone you don't know."

"I guess I just felt the pain of it, the ache," Sam said, relaxing a little. "Not the grief. I really didn't mean to say anything bad against your Sam, you know?"

"I know." They drove for a few minutes in silence. "So, uh, Sam's been getting lucky lately?" Dean said, pretty sure by now that Sam didn't have a clue just who his alternate reality self had actually been getting lucky with, but needing to have it confirmed.

Sam glanced at him a little nervously. "Uh, maybe. It sure felt like that to me."

"Pretty good, huh?" Dean said slyly, and that was pure vanity talking.

"The best," Sam breathed and Dean couldn't help grinning, although he turned and rubbed at his chin to hide it.

"Way to go, Sammy," he murmured.

-666-

"You drive a Japanese car?" Sam said incredulously, amazement cutting through his numbness. The low slung sports car beeped as Dean aimed his keys at it and clicked.

"It's an Infiniti M45, dude," Dean said defensively.

Sam stroked a sleek, silver flank appreciatively. "Sweet."

Dean shrugged, grinning. "She is, isn't she?"

"If you two are finished admiring the phallic object?" Lisa said snidely, pulling open the passenger door.

"Back seat, squirt," Dean gestured with his thumb. "And it's only because you'd go blabbing to Dad if I drove off and left you that I'm letting you ride in her at all."

Sam was still admiring the car as he took the front seat and Lisa flounced with ill grace into the back. Sam stroked the aluminum trim on the dash. "How the hell can you afford a car like this?"

Dean settled into his plush seat with a smirk. "You and Dad might have thought it was hilarious when I got offered my first modeling job," he said loftily. "But you stopped laughing when I drove this baby home."

"Modeling?" Sam repeated incredulously.

"And paid the down payment on my apartment." Dean started the car and they paused at the low rumble of the engine.

"You mean your bachelor pad," Lisa mocked, leaning forward between the bucket seats.

Sam was actually impressed, despite his amazement. Dean was certainly good looking enough to model, although Sam had honestly never really paid much attention to it before they became lovers. In fact back when they were kids Dean had done everything he could to downplay his looks, and now Sam found himself wondering what incidents had led to that. He slanted a look at this Dean, again noting the gold watch, the perfectly manicured hands, the flawless blonde hair.

Dean noticed his glance and shot him a look back. "What?"

"He thinks it's funny," Lisa interjected before Sam could speak. "A grown man prancing around in tight t-shirts and getting his picture taken."

Dean's cheeks flushed but Sam shook his head firmly. "Actually I think it sounds like a good way to earn some extra cash," he said pragmatically. "Beats stacking shelves at Wal-Mart."

Dean flashed him a surprised look, then turned and poked his tongue out at his little sister. "So there."

"Huh," Lisa said, crossing her arms and leaning back in her seat.

"You've changed your tune," Dean said softly to Sam.

Sam shook his head. "No I haven't," he reminded Dean gently.

"Oh, yeah. I forgot."

"It's okay," Sam said with a shrug. "I don't blame you for not believing it. I work with this stuff every day and I don't know what the hell's going on."

"Missouri will know," Dean said, but Sam didn't think he was as confident as he sounded. Sam thought Dean was probably scared to death.

-666-

Dean was scared to death. Sam was chattering away like he didn't have a care in the world, long legs comfortably bent in front of him, elbow resting on the Impala's door as the breeze from the open window whipped his hair around his face.

"So Dean doesn't even get his hands dirty any more, he's sort of taking over from Dad a bit at a time. Dad says he's not gonna retire, but, you know-""

"Listen, Sam," Dean interrupted. "We should really talk about all this before we get to Kansas." And before Missouri opens her big mouth and spills the beans about me and Sam, Dean continued in his head. And he had no doubt she would, she seemed to get a real kick out of needling him the first and last time they had met. He could only imagine how she was going to react to what she saw in Dean's head this time.

"Why?" Sam said reasonably. "Missouri will tell us what to do. She'll fix it."

"No, see, that's not how this works," Dean snapped back impatiently. "We don't rely on other people to fix our messes for us."

Sam shot him a reproachful look. "You mean my mess, don't you?"

"Well, no offense, but yeah," Dean said baldly. "I mean, maybe my Sam and his psychic mojo contributed, but I can guarantee you, he was not the one who spent the last year dreaming about you."

"How do you know that?" Sam challenged and shooting him a quick look Dean recognized his brother's stubborn streak coming to the fore. He'd inherited it from their father and Dean had lost count of the times he'd watched firm chins jutting further and further until finally the pair of them had been face to face and yelling until Dean just wanted to put his fingers in his ears and scream like a girl.

"Right," he said in sudden decision. He couldn't deal with this and drive at the same time. Ahead was a sign for a scenic look-out and he flashed his indicator and turned into the small gravel car park.

"What are you doing? I thought you were in a hurry to get to Missouri?"

Dean stopped the car and unbuckled his seatbelt. "I need to stretch my legs," he said shortly, leaving Sam no choice but to follow as he climbed out of the car and headed for the green grassy park.

"Okay, let's get one thing straight here," Dean said, stopping at the look-out and turning to face the man wearing his brother's body. "Sam. You were the one who started dreaming about Jessica and the demon and all that, right?"

Sam set his jaw more firmly and Dean took that as a nod.

"And you're the one who's been having visions about my Sam and his life for the last year. Right? Peeking in on us?"

"You don't have to make it sound like that!" Sam exclaimed. "I wasn't peeking! I didn't ask for any of this you know!"

"No?" Dean raised a brow. "But didn't you say the visions stopped? That the stuff Missouri told you how to do blocked them?"

"Well, yeah," Sam admitted, chin dropping a little.

"You admitted you were caught up in this world," Dean said relentlessly. "You did this, Sam. Maybe you don't know exactly how, but you know that. Don't you?"

Sam's head was bent now, his shoulders hunched. He shrugged his shoulders miserably but Dean fought to stop himself from relenting. This was not his Sam, even though he looked like him and sounded like him. Dean had to fight the urge to go to this Sam and wrap an arm around him to soothe his distress. This was not his brother or his lover. This man stood in the way of getting his lover and his brother back.

"How, Sam?" he said firmly. "How did it happen?"

"I don't know," Sam muttered, turning his head, glancing down at the soft grass beneath him before sinking down, long legs crossing gracefully beneath him.

Now Dean sensed it was time to soften his stance and he lowered himself to the ground, glancing around the deserted look-out and then fixing his gaze on the man opposite him. "I think you do."

"I was..." Sam began, then trailed away. "I was so caught up in it all," he admitted lowly. "Watching you and your brother. Running around helping people and fighting monsters. Like heroes in some book or movie. But I could feel it too, you know? Like I was a part of it."

Dean nodded, trying to imagine what it must be like, living someone else's life in his dreams.

"And as my life got crazier, as everything I'd worked so hard for seemed to get further and further away, well, the temptation to just lose myself in this life seemed greater and greater."

"But, Sam," Dean said softly, trying to understand. "This was the thing that was messing up your life, man. The dreams and the visions. Getting rid of them should have put your life back on track."

Sam turned away and Dean studied his profile, seeing the boy in the soft line of his brow, his nose, his chin. The same age as his Sam but a lifetime away in experience, somehow this Sam seemed younger and so much more innocent.

"No," Sam said starkly. "My life was messed up a long time ago. Becoming a doctor was all I've ever wanted, but leaving home, cutting off my ties with my family..." Sam turned back, his hazel green eyes swimming with tears. "Losing you... Him. My Dean."

And Dean knew that look, had seen it a hundred times in his dreams. It was what had led him and Sam to where they were today, what had turned them from just brothers to brothers who were lovers.

"Holy crap," Dean whispered, everything clicking into place. Because other than demons and monsters and all the scary things that lived in the dark places, what did this universe have that the other one didn't?

Him and Sam.

-666-

Missouri Mosely pushed open her front door and stepped out onto the porch, screen door slamming closed behind her. "You stop right there!" she ordered and Dean froze with his foot over the front step. "Sam Winchester, you don't set one foot nearer my house!"

Sam paused in surprise, studying the woman's familiar face. Missouri looked just the same as in the other world, medium height, stocky but compact, arms crossed and back straight.

"Missouri?" Dean said in amazement. "What's wrong?"

"I'm surprised at you, Dean Winchester," Missouri chided sternly. "That's not your brother standing next to you. How is it you can't see that?"

"What's she talking about, Dean?" Lisa said indignantly.

"Missouri, it's Sam," Dean said desperately. "He needs your help. Let us come inside and talk about it."

"I told you, that boy doesn't step one foot inside my house," Missouri said firmly. She stepped forward and her voice dropped, became low and menacing. Her dark eyes fixed on Sam. "You think I can't see it on you, Sam Winchester? Sense it? I know the places you've been, the things you've done. The darkness inside you."

Next to him Dean was stiffening and Lisa reached out and grabbed his arm protectively, fingers gripping.

"You've walked through evil," Missouri continued lowly. "You've waded through it and it's stuck to you. You reek of it, boy."

"Oh this is just too much," Lisa protested, but Dean was turning his head to look at him and Sam flickered a look back. He felt surprisingly calm considering the vitriol in Missouri's voice, and he met Dean's stare just as calmly.

Finally Dean turned away. "Missouri, please," he said quietly. "Whatever is going on here, we need your help. I don't know what to do!"

Missouri's glance softened as she looked at Dean, although her back remained ramrod stiff and her arms did not uncross. "There's nothin' I can do to help you, Dean," she said softly. "It was your Sam who started all this, who couldn't keep his mind from dwelling on that other world, even when I warned him to put it outta his head. He did this, and it's up to him to undo it. If he wants to that is."

"This is all nonsense!" Lisa blurted out and she pulled on Sam's arm. "Come on, Sammy, let's just get the hell away from this crazy person."

Sam laid his hand over the teenager's fingers, feeling the tremor in them, hearing the shake of worry in her voice. His mind was racing. Was there truly nothing he could do to fix this? How could it all be up to that other Sam?

"How?" Dean was saying urgently. "How did he do it?"

"Dean?" Lisa wailed. "You don't believe this stuff, do you?"

"I don't rightly know," Missouri admitted stiffly. "I just know your Sam and that Sam standing next to you isn't him." She sniffed and nodded at Sam disdainfully. "I'm a sensitive, and I invite spirits inside my home every day. I can't have it polluted with... that." She leveled a steady finger at Sam, who stared impassively back at her.

"I've had just about enough of this," Lisa said stormily, pushing past Sam and standing between him and the porch steps. "How dare you call my brother evil, you nasty old witch. You're the one who's evil, twisting people up and scaring them with all this nonsense."

"Lisa," Sam said, gently laying a hand on her shoulder, touched by her spirited defense.

"We should report you to the police as a fraud!"

"Lisa!" Dean shouted. "You're not helping."

"Dean Winchester," Missouri said, ignoring Lisa and her tirade. "If you care for your little sister you'll get her away from that man. Right now." She sent Sam another disgusted look, then glared into Dean's face. "Who knows what he might do? No one knows better than you what lies down that path. You stepped back from it once yourself." She drew herself up and became even stiffer, something Sam would have thought impossible. "But I won't poison innocent young ears by going into that," she said significantly.

Dean had frozen in place and Sam stared at the older man's profile, wondering if he'd heard all that right.

"I wouldn't have taken you for the judgmental type, Missouri," Sam said.

Missouri glared at him. "We have never met before," she said sharply. "Don't talk to me like I'm your friend."

Dean seemed to come to a decision. "Let's just get out of here," he said flatly, turning away and heading back down the walk.

Sam stayed where he was, even when Dean paused expectantly next to him and Lisa caught at his arm again and tried to pull him away. His eyes were still locked with the psychic's. "The Missouri from my world was a friend," he said quietly. "She helped us do what we do. Save lives."

"You think because you save lives back in that freakish world of yours, you think that excuses you from everything?" Missouri spat. "It's all right to lie and steal and commit those sins of the flesh, so long as you spend the rest of the time fighting the darkness out there?"

Sam gave this only a moments consideration. "Yeah," he agreed. "Actually I do."

Missouri shook her head. "Maybe you just don't know any better." She leaned forward, hissing under her breath. "But you'll learn, boy."

"Sammy, come on," Dean murmured.

And Sam came, more because of the stark pallor of Dean's skin than anything Missouri had to say. He wasn't ashamed of what he'd done - but he wasn't about to say that to the woman with the righteous fire burning in her eyes. Some minds could never be changed.

"What in the fuzzy hell was that about?" Lisa exploded from the backseat as Dean gunned the car and they pulled away from the house.

"My Missouri sure was a lot nicer," Sam said, feeling he deserved the understatement of the year award for that one.

"Dean," Lisa said, leaning forward. "I can't believe you actually bought into that crap. You didn't, did you? Dean?"

"I know this is hard to believe, Lisa," Sam said. "But think about it. How could Missouri have known that I wasn't your Sam? I certainly never got a chance to tell her."

"For all we know she could have put the idea in your head in the first place!" Lisa said indignantly. "And what about that other stuff? Calling you evil? I thought there were rules about what psychics could tell people? We really should report her."

Sam scratched his head ruefully. The only reason he could come up with for Missouri's immediate rejection of him was the way she'd called his world freaky. Maybe the stuff she'd seen in his head really was stuff that didn't exist in this world, beyond books and movies. Maybe there were no real demons and ghosts here. Maybe she'd seen what truly did exist in Sam's world... and it scared the crap out of her.

Of course it didn't help that she'd obviously also seen him and his brother making love. He slanted another look at Dean's frozen profile. As for the rest of it...

"Dean, will you say something?" Lisa implored. "I mean, even if you buy this bizarre garbage about our Sam being the one who did this, what was that other stuff about? What did she mean saying Sam could come back - if he wanted to? Why wouldn't he want to? This is the good world after all, the one without demons who kill peoples mothers and stop their innocent and beautiful little sisters being born. Why would Sam want to stay there?"

Dean set his jaw and pulled the car over to the curb. He groped around in his pocket and pulled out his wallet, extracting two twenties and offering them to his little sister. "Go home, Lisa," he ordered. "Get a cab home."

Sam tilted his head but Dean avoided his gaze, keeping his eyes on the traffic around them.

"Are you joking?" Lisa exclaimed, pushing the money away. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Don't make me come around there and pull you out," Dean said with deadly force.

"But why?" Lisa wailed. "I want to stay and help Sammy!"

"I'm gonna help Sam. You need to give me some room to do that."

"It's not fair," Lisa said, and Sam shot her a sympathetic glance and then looked back at Dean, noting that the other man still wouldn't meet his eyes.

"Is this about what Missouri said?" Sam asked. "Because I'm not going to hurt your little sister, Dean."

"I never thought you were," Dean said tightly. "We just need to talk, that's all."

"You're always doing this," Lisa said tearfully. "You and Sam always keeping secrets and running off and leaving me behind. It's not fair!"

"I'm not Dad, Lisa," Dean said hardly. "I don't fall for the waterworks. Now get out of my car."

Lisa glared at him through wet eyes then snatched the money out of his hand. "Fine," she spat out, pushing the car door open. "But I'm telling Dad!"

"Brat," Dean muttered.

Sam pushed open his door and climbed out of the low slung car. Despite Dean's words and Lisa's bravado the teen had tears in her eyes and her mouth was trembling. Sam remembered her spirited defense of him and smiled gently at her.

"Thanks for sticking up for me back there."

Lisa shrugged one shoulder. "Our big brother is a pig," she said sullenly.

"Maybe," Sam chuckled. "But his little sister's a real gem. Your Sam is lucky to have her." He leaned forward and cupped one narrow shoulder, then bent over and pressed a soft kiss to her cheek.

Lisa blinked as he drew back, lifting one hand to her cheek, eyes wide. "Sam?" she said uncertainly.

"It was nice to meet you," Sam said, then he winked and climbed back into the car. Dean didn't waste any time pulling away and Sam watched the girl in his mirror, still standing by the side of the road, hand to her cheek, long blonde hair whipping around her face in the wind.

"That was kind of mean," Sam observed.

"Forget Lisa," Dean said shortly. "We've got to talk."

-666-

He really shouldn't be so shocked, Dean thought. Considering everything. He didn't really have any right to be shocked.

But somehow he was.

Was it because he'd always wondered if it was the life they'd lived? The way they'd grown up? Somewhere in the back of his mind had that always been some kind of reason, some kind of excuse for the love they now shared?

After all this did it still come down to excuses? Reasons, blame. Fault?

"Oh god," Sam said, covering his face with one hand.

"You and... him," Dean said numbly. "You and your brother?"

"It was only one time," Sam said brokenly. "And it was my fault, all of it. I thought I was finally getting what I wanted. But instead I lost everything."

-666-

"Do you remember this place?" Dean said, walking through the deserted play equipment. Then he shrugged. "No, of course you don't. Sorry. You didn't grow up in Lawrence."

Sam followed as Dean paused in front of a set of swings. "You believe now," he stated.

"I don't know what the hell to believe," Dean admitted with a harsh laugh. "Except..." He turned his gaze on Sam and studied him, a frown on his smooth brow. "Except Missouri was right. You're... different."

"Yeah," Sam agreed. "But I could just be crazy."

"Then I'm crazy too. Because... I believe. No, I know. You're not my brother."

The ground beneath them was worn hard and bare by years of little feet happily scuffing the dirt as they pushed their way skyward on the worn old swing. Sam looked around him, taking in the play equipment, strange and familiar. Like a hundred towns and a hundred parks they'd stopped in as kids so they could run off their energy and Dad could stretch his legs.

"Mom used to bring us here, when Lisa was a baby," Dean said quietly, following Sam's gaze. "Even though there was four years between us Sam and I were always so close. Look after your little brother, Dean. That's what Dad always said. Brothers take care of each other." Dean stopped and sent Sam a probing look. "What did Missouri mean back there?"

"I think you know," Sam said, sure that he was right. Missouri's cryptic words had been designed to sting, but not give away anything to anyone who didn't already know.

But Sam had known she was talking about the love he shared with his brother, and therefore he knew what she meant when she threw those words at Dean.

This Dean nursed his own secret, and its truth shone light on the meaning behind the words flung at Sam.

Dean's gaze probed a moment more before he turned away. "Yeah."

"I was thinking," Sam said, looking out across the park. "About why this happened. About what your Sam could possibly have seen that drew him to my world. And then it all became clear. The only thing that my world has that yours doesn't. Me and Dean."

Dean was shaking his head. "That can't be it," he denied. "That's the last thing that Sammy would want. The one time..." He broke off, tears filling his eyes. He turned away and scrubbed at his face with his wrist, fingers clenched tight. "The one time that happened between us, it destroyed everything. It was my fault, and he never forgave me."

-666-

"How could it have been your fault?" Dean asked.

Sam shook his head, eyes full of pain.

"How did it happen?"

"It was the night I graduated," Sam said, staring down at his hands laying lax in his lap. "I was so happy, so full of myself. I felt... free. Like I could do anything. We were drinking, but we weren't drunk."

-666-

"We talked about everything, the future, the past, all the stuff we were going to do. Sam had always been my little brother but now it was like we were best friends as well, you know? I don't know where it came from, I swear..."

-666-

"...but suddenly we were kissing and it was like we were on fire. Nothing ever felt like that." Sam swiped at the tears trembling on his lashes with one shaking hand. "It was... perfect."

-666-

"Nothing ever felt like that," Dean said, voice so soft Sam had to tilt his head to hear it. "But when it was over... I realised what I had done."

-666-

"He couldn't even look at me. He blamed me."

-666-

"I blamed myself. I was the oldest, I should never have let it happen. I just... ran. Like a damn coward."

-666-

"He wouldn't come near me all summer. Avoided the house, didn't come to my farewell party when I left for college. I barely saw him."

-666-

"And when I did see him... The way he looked at me. The pain in his eyes. He hated me."

-666-

"Finally I went away to college. In a way it was a relief, getting away from all that pain. But you never really do leave everything behind. I started making excuses not to come home for holidays and special occasions."

-666-

"Dad turned fifty and Sammy wouldn't even come home for his party. That's when I finally admitted it to myself. I'd lost my brother forever."

-666-

"I should have been able to put it behind me," Sam admitted miserably. "Should have been strong enough to do that, for my family's sake. For Dean's sake. But I wasn't - and because of that I lost my brother."

-666-

Sam absorbed it all, turning it over in his head. He tried to imagine what it would have been like for him and Dean, if they had discovered these feelings for each other at that painful time of their lives. When Sam had been breaking away, trying to find himself. When he had been young and possessed that casual cruelty of youth.

Sam looked back and winced now at some of the decisions he had made. Yes, maybe some change had been necessary, but it really hadn't had to go down the way it did. With the benefit of a few years of hard-won wisdom and, of course, hindsight, he knew he could have handled it all better.

But at eighteen? To have had this love for Dean thrown into the mix as well? Sam couldn't begin to imagine how painful that all would have been.

"Are you shocked?" Dean challenged. His face was still pale but his eyes were clearer. Perhaps getting it off his chest had helped. Sam wondered if he'd ever said any of this aloud before.

Sam shook his head. "A little surprised," he admitted. "I guess it never occurred to me that stuff like this happened to normal people."

Dean flushed a little and huffed a laugh. "Most people would say we lose our normal status after that."

"Most people are idiots," Sam said bluntly. "So don't worry about most people. Worry about yourselves, you and your brother."

"It's Sammy I'm thinking of now. This has all happened because of me. I took him to see Missouri in the first place."

"You helped him," Sam gently pointed out.

"I lied to him," Dean threw back. "When he came home, so broken, in so much pain. I was just so glad to see him. I would have done anything to help him. And when he came to me..." Dean shook his head in wonder. "After everything that happened, he came to me."

"That's why you told him you believed him," Sam realised.

"I would have told him anything. I just wanted my brother back."

Sam shook his head. "Dean, man," he said thoughtfully. "I don't think you ever lost him."

Dean stared at him.

"Well, think about it. He came to you, his big brother. Who else was he going to go to?"

"He was desperate."

"And he turned to you," Sam insisted. "Dean, he loves you. He probably never stopped loving you."

"You don't know," Dean insisted shakily. "You weren't there."

"No," Sam admitted. "But I've been somewhere very similar. With my big brother full of regret and trying to put everything back the way it was. But I wasn't eighteen. And I didn't have parents and family to worry about. In fact I didn't give a flying fuck what anyone else thought."

Dean's mouth gaped in surprise.

"So when my Dean tried to push me away I pushed right back. When he ran I followed. And when he hurt me I survived it - and still didn't give up on us."

"But - but..."

-666-

"Wow," Dean said, taking it all in. "You really fucked all that up, didn't you?"

Sam stared at him, a lone tear still trembling on one lash. "What?"

"Well, isn't it obvious?" Dean appealed. "You guys had sex and spent the next five years torturing yourselves over it. Jesus H Christ-on-a-crutch. What a pair of maroons."

"You - you don't know what it was like," Sam said, shock fading to belligerence.

"The hell I don't. Who do you think my Sam's been getting lucky with, the last few months?" he challenged, then nodded when Sam frowned, eyes glazing over. "D'uh! Who did you wake up in bed with this morning?"

"You and him?" Sam stuttered. "You and your brother?"

"What, did you think you were the only ones? Are you really telling me you didn't know?"

"No," Sam said automatically, then his eyes regained their focus and he frowned. "No!" he defended more strenuously. "I didn't know that."

"Then what the hell was it about this world that fascinated you?" Dean asked with genuine curiosity.

"I - You... Just you and your Sam, that's all," Sam said defensively. "Just the way you got on and loved each other and..." he trailed away weakly. "I really didn't know about the sex."

"Just the love?" Dean said, cocking his brow. "Aww, that's kind of sweet."

"You're a dick, you know that," Sam said acidly, rubbing at his wet lashes.

Dean made a hurt face and clutched his chest. "What happened to the love?"

"You and your Sam really...?"

Dean relaxed his sarcasm response, which was automatically triggered by an excess of emotion. "Yeah, we really," he smirked. "For someone who just admitted to incest, you look kind of shocked."

"I'm just wondering why the hell I didn't see it, is all," Sam admitted. "I mean, every time I had a vision I was fascinated by the two of you, the way you worked together, fought together. You almost seem to read each other's minds, do you know that?"

Dean shrugged. "Hell, yes. Most people look at us and just see all the differences between us. They can't possibly know all the ways we're alike. Raised the way we were, so damn close." He shrugged again. "We were either gonna end up hating each other or..."

"Loving each other," Sam finished off. He frowned, looking down at his big hands in his lap. "I envied you that closeness."

"Well, I guess this is my cue to say I envy you your life, growing up." Dean considered it for a moment. "Parts of it might have been nice, at that. But where I am now? I wouldn't trade for anything."

"Because you have him. My Dean and I weren't raised the way you were. What's our excuse?"

"No freaking clue. And I'm not really the one you should be asking, am I? It looks to me like you two spent so much time blaming yourselves that you didn't even talk about it." Inwardly he smiled, wondering what the hell his Sam would say to a comment like that.

"He never came near me," Sam said defensively.

"And you just sat back and waited for him to make all the moves?" Dean held up a hand. "All right, I know. You were eighteen."

"I was a jerk," Sam muttered.

"Yeah," Dean said reminiscently. "You could be. He could be. I was slightly jerkish myself at that age. I got over it. Dude, you're not eighteen any more. It's time for you to take control of your own life, because frankly? I want my brother back in this one."

-666-

"But it was different for you," Dean pointed out. "You don't have parents breathing over your shoulder. A family, a community..."

"Please," Sam drawled. "We might not have a mother, but we had Dad, and believe me, I've spent a lot of nights awake and worrying what the hell he would have thought about me and Dean." Sam dismissed the thought and the old guilt that came with it. "And let's face it, Dean. Even if there wasn't a drop of blood binding us - we still live in a world where most people despise two men who love each other. We have a world of pressures on our backs."

"So how do you do it?"

Sam shook his head. "How we do it doesn't mean a damn thing. This is about you and your brother. And you gotta ask yourself how you reached the point where Sam has to look for what he wants in another reality, for god's sake. Look, Dean. Bottom line? I'm not telling you that you and your brother could be anything like me and my brother. Maybe in your world, the people you are, maybe it's just not meant to be."

"But?"

"But whatever you two do when you get your Sam back, you gotta sit him down and talk to him. And for god's sake make him do those relaxation exercises. I don't want this happening again."

"But what if he doesn't come back? You heard Missouri. She said he might not want to come back."

"This Missouri never met my Dean," Sam said confidently. "Trust me. You'll get your Sam back. You've just gotta decide what you'll do with him when you do."

-666-

"You need anything?" Dean said, hovering beside the bed.

"A cup of warm milk?" Sam said, then grinned.

"Jerk." Dean perched on his own bed and studied Sam propped up comfortably in the motel bed, eyes closed, chest rising and falling with deep breaths.

Sam opened one eye. "I don't think I can do this with you staring at me."

"Oh, right. Should I leave? I could leave."

"Don't leave," Sam ordered. "Just get into bed." He opened both eyes. "That bed."

"Don't worry," Dean assured him. "Your virtue is safe."

"You know," Sam said thoughtfully. "My Dean can be a pain in the ass sometimes. But you're a real dick."

"I love you too," Dean grinned and Sam shook his head and smiled back.

"I want to go home," he said softly.

"Do you know what you're gonna do?" Dean asked curiously. "About your brother?"

Sam shrugged. "Talk to him, like you said. I think we're overdue. Other than that? Not a clue. What about you & your Sam?"

Dean looked surprised. "What about us? This is just another day in the effed up life of the Winchesters to us. Tomorrow we'll be back on the road, looking for a new gig."

"And that's enough for you?"

"Oh, god, you and my Sam have more in common than I thought," Dean complained. "You still want to talk a man to death. Just shut your freakin' eyes and go home already, willya?"

Sam frowned at him, then snorted and shook his head. "Gladly."

-666-

Dean hung up the phone. "Mom knows something's wrong. Probably because you've never stayed over at my place before."

"Lisa might have said something?" Sam looked up from the book he'd pulled from the shelf. It was a Stephen King novel and he'd always thought it was hilarious.

"Nah. She's a brat but she won't squeal."

Sam sighed and put the book down. "Well, I guess I better go to bed."

"Why are you so sure my Sam will be doing this tonight? Trying to fix things?"

"Because once my Dean has this figured out, and believe me, he will have by now, he won't give him any choice."

"What if he doesn't want to come back?" Dean asked, somewhat nervously.

"After hanging out with my Dean all day?" Sammy snorted. "I'm betting he can't wait to get back. Do you know what you're gonna do when he is back?"

Dean huffed a laugh. "After I get through kicking his ass and then hugging the life out of him? Not really."

"Go with the hugging," Sam advised.

"Listen, Sam," Dean said, rubbing nervously at his chin. "I know our lives couldn't be more different - but... Are you happy? You and your Dean? Is it worth it?"

Sam thought about it for a few moments. "It is what it is," he said slowly. "It's what we have. And as long as we're with each other... Yeah, it's worth it."

Dean blinked, taking it in, then he nodded. "Yeah."

-666-

Dean drifted off sometime around midnight, and when he woke up it was to warm lips engulfing his and an impudent hand sliding under his t-shirt.

"Sam? That better be you," he managed around an invading tongue.

"Ah, but which me?" Sam said whimsically. Dean grabbed broad shoulders and swung Sam off balance and onto the bed beside him.

"The you that's gonna get fucked into the bed," Dean growled.

Sam grinned up at him through his tousled hair. "Then, yeah. It's absolutely me."

Epilogue

Sam leaned back against the headboard, Dean's back resting against his chest, head lolling on his shoulder. "Accept no substitutes," he said smugly.

Dean snorted.

"So, how was he? The AU Sam?"

"Young," Dean said fervently.

Now Sam snickered.

"And the evil Dean?"

"Not so evil," Sam said fairly. "Kinda confused."

"Yeah, AU Sam didn't know his backside from a hole in the ground either. Do you think they'll get together?"

"No idea. Hey, you should hear what AU Missouri said to me. What a bitch!"

"Welcome to Dean's world." Dean hesitated. "Did you see Dad?"

Sam wrapped his arms more tightly around his brother. "I saw Mom," he said softly.

And he told Dean all about it.

The End.