In the dead of night, Sam's eyes flicked open.

There had been a sound—an unfamiliar sound. You learned the sounds of a neighborhood after a while, learned to sleep through them, but this hadn't been one of those; this sounded like there was someone in the apartment.

Sam glanced over at Jess, who was still dead to the world, being able to sleep through backfires in the street, brass bands passing under the window, and as far as Sam could tell nuclear bombardment. It was comforting, in a weird way, being with someone who didn't spend their entire life waiting for the next attack.

Sam slid out of bed and padded a few steps down the hall. There was a breeze blowing in from the open window in the living room, and that window had been closed when they went to bed. And then a silhouette went past the bead curtain at the end of the hall. Sam's breath caught for a second. It was unlikely to be a burglar in this part of town, a well-known student ghetto; odds were in favor of an intruder from another life entirely.

Sam could feel the reflexes of that other life kicking into action. Fortunately Jess's softball bat was leaning up against the wall, an acceptable weapon if not a very specialized one—and if the situation called for something really esoteric, Sam was screwed anyway.

It only took a moment to find a decent position, though the intruder was good, very quiet, and that was a bad sign; folks ransacking the low-rent district didn't tend to be subtle. For a moment Sam wondered if the better thing to do was to go wake Jess and get the both of them the hell out, but then a defensive instinct kicked in that defied logic; this was home.

Thoughts of retreat faded when the dark shape moved cautiously out of the kitchen. Sam swung the bat hard, aiming for the upper back, all the power of hips and back and shoulders behind the blow; it would stun and incapacitate, but not kill, because if this was someone from the other life Sam would be presenting a few questions before calling the cops.

The intruder ducked the swing by a hair's breadth and struck back while Sam was still off-balance. He was trying to get Sam to drop the bat, which was mostly useless now anyway so Sam let it go, backing off enough to get the distance for a kick. It connected, but not solidly; the intruder twisted again at just the right moment, grabbed Sam's foot and pushed. Sam went over backwards and landed with a whoop of expelled air. There wasn't time to get up again before the intruder pounced, pinning Sam's wrist and throat with his hands.

"Whoa, easy, tiger," said a familiar voice, and Samantha Winchester stared into her sister's face for the first time in over two years.

"Deanne?"

OK, yes, this is total crack, but it's a plotbunny that wouldn't leave me alone. I'm going to do the Pilot, and see where it goes from there. Most people are not changing; it's not going to be a matter of "every person in the world is of opposite gender."

I realize the pilot had some stuff before this scene. I think it's pretty clear there's no way I could have managed those bits without making it clear what I was pulling, thus they're left out.