Seeing Double

Summary: 1-shot. Dean's having issues with a soulless Sam but after a fight and Sam storms out he soon finds himself having issues of another kind…with something wearing his brother's face. *Hurt/Dean & a slightly caring/protective!soulless Sam*

Warnings: Some minor language and minor violence. Nothing graphic.

Tags/Spoilers: Not tagged to anything and as it's set in season six it shouldn't contain spoilers.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Written for fun.

Beta'd By: Jenjoremy.

Author Note: No clue where this one came from since I don't do a lot of soulless Sam stuff but the muse had the urge to hurt Dean some and it fit in with this period. Enjoy!

SPN SPN SPN SPN

"No! I said I don't want it back! I'm fine the way I am!"

"You are so not fine! Or do we have to sit down and have a long talk about all the crap you've been pulling since we started riding together again?"

"I thought you didn't want to talk about the so-called fairy case!"

"I meant the goddamn vampires, Sam!"

"Screw you! Yes, it was a risk but it paid off, and Samuel cured you so stop whining! I'll be back in an hour or so. Don't call me!"

The sound of the motel room door slamming shut brought a blurry consciousness back into a head that felt like it might fall off the shoulders it was attached to. Dean Winchester tried, but failed, to place events after his soulless brother had stormed out of their motel room; he shifted slightly and winced, wondering why the hell his head felt like crap.

This hadn't been the first fight they'd had about getting Sam's soul back out of the Cage. It hadn't even been the first time Sam had stormed out after such a fight, but for some reason the rest of the afternoon seemed to be a blur.

The hunter was still struggling to bring his brain back online when an unexpected burning slashed over his chest and made him swear. "Sonuvabitch! What the…"

"I thought that would bring you back around, hotshot."

The voice made something inside the hunter's belly curl. He knew it well…hell, he should know it since he'd been hearing it from the first time he taught the annoying kid to talk but this…this voice had warning bells sounding in Dean's already pounding head; something wasn't right.

"Where's…my brother, asshole?" he asked while forcing his eyes open. He hissed at the bright light coming in a broken window from high above where he had been tied to some chains hanging in what appeared to be an old building.

"Right in front of you, genius," Sam smirked, lips curving in a smile that was familiar but also as cold as the jagged edged blade in his hand; the blade that he traced lightly over a rigid muscle on the hunter's chest. "You waking up, Dean?"

Now, as consciousness returned, Dean remembered what had happened. As he stared into hazel eyes that looked like Sam's, into his little brother's face, his expressive face that he hadn't seen in over a year, he remembered.

He remembered being pissed off at Sam after the younger man had stormed out of the room. He remembered debating on going out, finding the damn soulless asshole, beating his face in, and locking him in Bobby's panic room until they found a way to get his soul back. The last thing he remembered was hearing the door open and turning to see his brother back much sooner than he expected before his world went dark as a fist hit his head with more strength than even soulless Sam should have.

Now as he woke up to find himself hanging from chains by his wrists in some sort of warehouse or factory, shirt off, bruised and bloodied, Dean had a sneaking feeling he knew what this was…and it was not Sam.

"You're not my brother," he gritted out between clenched teeth.

Sam stepped closer, slamming a hard fist into an already bruised and bloodied face with enough force that Dean's head snapped back. "Well, I'm not a demon since I still have this on," he smirked as he pulled his shirt aside enough to show the anti-possession mark. "I look exactly like Sam right down to the ridiculous hair and the big soulful eyes. I sound just like him, too. What the hell do you think I am, big brother?"

"Goddamn 'shifter," Dean grunted, biting his tongue to keep from screaming when the blade dug into his shoulder, almost deep enough to hit bone, before pulling out and slashing over his chest. "Where's…Sam?"

Head cocked to the side, his captor smirked. "Awww. You caught me. Right now your little brother is probably having a similar conversation with a cousin of mine…we've waited a long time to get our hands on the infamous Winchester brothers."

He moved closer to grab a handful of short hair, jerking Dean's head back and putting the tip of the jagged blade up to his eye. "Hunters have been a pain in the ass for my kind for years, but you Winchesters take the cake…and since we finally managed to get the drop on you and separate you, now I'm gonna show you some pain…way more pain than you felt in St. Louis."

St. Louis. Dean groaned both from pain and memory. He hated the St. Louis job because while it got him listed as a killer, and also dead, that goddamn bastard 'shifter had hurt Sam in ways that he'd never been able to learn the full extent of. "Grow up like a good monster and learn to let go of the past." He knew ticking the thing off wasn't smart since Dean figured a rescue was probably not in the cards. Even if Sam saw through the shapeshifter before it could get the drop on him, he knew this version of his brother wasn't going to bother coming to bail his ass out.

"Always with the smart mouth. If I didn't want to hear you scream and beg, I'd cut your tongue out first," 'Sam' growled, stepping back and studying the blade in his hand. After a few moments, he placed it on the small table off to the side and picked up a smaller blade instead. "I'm going to enjoy this. A lot. You're going to watch your little brother's face as I slice you up… and then I'm gonna peel your skin off very slowly, layer by layer, until there's nothing but nerves left. Maybe by then my partner will be done with your Sam and bring him here so you can watch us cut his face off…literally."

Dean refused to give into this thing wearing Sam's face. He'd only begged twice in his life and wouldn't give this damn monster the satisfaction, but as the 'shifter's knife moved along his back, cutting it as if creating a jigsaw puzzle, he wasn't able to keep all the screams inside.

"Looks like we've finally hit your pain threshold, big brother," 'Sam' sneered, wiping the blade clean of blood as he finished marking and cutting along the hunter's back and shoulders and moved to his chest and stomach.

"Don't…call…me that," Dean spit blood from where he'd been punched in the face several times in between various knife cuts. One eye was almost swollen shut and he hoped it was just the blood from his head running into his other one that was making his vision blurry. "You're…not my brother."

"Yeah, well from what I've seen lately, it doesn't seem like your brother is either, hotshot," the shapeshifter remarked as he dug the tip of the blade into Dean's already bleeding shoulder before pulling the blade down towards his armpit. He sliced deep enough to draw blood but was careful to never hit a vein or artery. Dean bit his lip and struggled to hang onto consciousness as pain flooded through his body. "You're all alone, hunter. No one's going to come save you this time because whatever's up with your precious baby brother makes him the opposite of the kid in St. Louis. In fact, I bet I could skin you…kill you…and even if I left him alive and he really wouldn't even give a crap about you. I bet he doesn't even give a damn that you're gone or…"

"You'd lose that bet."

The sudden hard voice had the shapeshifter whirling around to confront its owner only to gag when fingers grabbed his throat and jerked him away from the barely conscious, badly bleeding hunter. "In fact, I'll tell you the same thing I told your shapeshifting asshole buddy before I put a silver bullet through his heart and burned his corpse…Dean and I might not be seeing eye-to-eye on the whole get my soul back thing, and we might not be as close as we were when I had a soul, but he's still my brother and that means no one touches him and lives to brag about it."

The report of a gun going off echoed in the warehouse as the wide-eyed shapeshifter dropped to the floor with a hole in its heart and a steely eyed hunter staring down at it before a switch was thrown and Sam Winchester was moving.

"Dean!" Sam shoved the gun in the back of jeans and hurried to take a look at his wounded brother. He took in the innumerable cuts, most still bleeding, and swore under his breath. "Hey! You with me, big brother?" he kept his voice soft and was careful when he pulled a knife out since he could tell his brother wasn't fully conscious after what he'd just been put through. "Shit."

Sam may not have had his soul, but he still had his memories so he knew the shapeshifters were after revenge for the one they killed in St. Louis years ago. He was honestly surprised at the surge of rare emotion he felt right then as he worked to cut his brother loose.

Dean fought to lift his head, still not quite believing his little brother had actually come back for him. "What…how…" There were so many questions he wanted to ask, but his body had been pushed beyond its limits and he slumped in the chains, darkness overtaking him even as he felt his brother's hands on him.

The younger Winchester cursed as his brother went limp, wishing he had been able to get here sooner. After he had slammed out of the room, he had been overcome by a faint touch of a feeling he recognized as guilt and he had returned to the motel, less than an hour after he left, to try to settle this with Dean, to try to get his brother to understand why he wasn't as eager now to get his soul put back in.

He'd caught the subtle change the moment he walked in and it took him about five minutes to become convinced that the man in the room was not his brother.

Neither Winchester made a habit of packing silver bullets, but Sam did carry a silver knife and had used it when the thing lunged at him. It only took that one cut to tell him what he was facing. It took him a little longer to convince it to tell him where Dean was being held and then he shot the sneering monster in the face before giving it a final round to the heart and destroying the body.

Now as he took in his brother's battered body, he wished he had taken more time with the one that had worn his face while it tortured Dean.

Sam accepted that without his soul, he couldn't truly feel anger or love or any sincere emotions, but there were times, like now, when he did feel something. He couldn't help but wonder if maybe it was because it was Dean that he was able to feel those echoes of emotions

Right then he pushed those thoughts aside to carefully lift his brother's head so he could feel for a pulse. He let out a sigh of relief when he found it beating strongly, but he frowned as he also heard a low moan of pain. "Hang on, Dean. I'm getting you down."

A quick look told Sam that he'd have to pick the locks on the metal cuffs to free his brother. Gingerly wrapping a strong arm around Dean to try to take some of the pressure off his arms, Sam murmured an apology for the pain while picking the old locks with ease, allowing one cuff to give way as a limp arm fell over his shoulder.

"Did you think it was me doing this, Dean?" Sam wasn't sure where that question came from or why he cared, but the thought of his brother thinking that he would do this did bug him. "Did you think this damn thing was really me hurting you because I can't tell right from wrong now? Did you…"

"Sa…Sammy…" The nickname was rare these days since both men knew this new Sam was not Dean's little brother, but hearing it now seemed to give Sam some relief. "You…"

Dean couldn't quite bite back the cry of pain as the last cuff opened and his weight fell, but Sam quickly and easily supported him. He knew that between the beating and the knife work, he was probably hurt pretty badly and would be crossing any hunts off his list of things to do for at least a day or two.

"Yeah, it's me, Dean." Sam was never so glad to have put on extra muscle this past year as he was when he realized how weak and out of it his brother was. "Just don't move…let me get you out to the car. Try to stay calm cause you're losing blood and I need to get that stopped."

"You…" Dean's head wasn't clear and his tongue felt thick and he tasted copper. He was surprised to hear his brother, and he could tell this was his real brother and not the shifter. He almost wondered if this might be a dream brought on by pain and shock, but he was too tired and in shock to really consider it right then. He only had enough energy to deal with one main worry. "You…alright?"

Sam was glad he'd parked close because despite the height and weight difference, bearing all of Dean's weight wasn't easy. It wasn't until he got his brother to the Impala and into the back seat that his brother's question actually registered. Then he blinked. "Yeah, I'm fine. It got a kick or two in, but…I knew it wasn't you from the second it opened its mouth."

Dean nodded and tried to sit up only to have a hand on his chest keep him from moving. "Go…get rid of that thing. I'll be…good until…then."

"You're losing a lot of blood, dude." Sam made the choice that he pretty sure his souled self would've. He did a hasty clean-up, tossed the body in the trunk to be disposed of later, and then sped away, looking for a new motel since he wasn't risking more of the damn shifters being in the area.

He would take care of this body like he had the other one, but only once he had Dean settled in the new motel and was sure he wasn't gonna bleed out on him.

By the time he got them registered at a new motel, he could tell the shock, pain, and blood loss was taking a serious toll on his brother. Sam's hands remained steady as he cleaned and stitched each gash and cleaned the rest of the wounds, but he did seriously consider a hospital a few times.

Once Dean's wounds were taken care of, Sam sat on the edge of the bed to watch his brother's breathing level off. He kept his hand flat on his chest as if feeling for his heartbeat even though he knew it was an odd habit from years earlier…if Dean was hurt, he just needed to be sure he was still breathing.

It was a couple hours before glassy green eyes struggled to open past all the swelling, but Sam stayed where he was…until a weak hand grasped his wrist to squeeze it as best as Dean could right then, and the younger man knew it was safe to leave and take care of things.

Sam drove to the outskirts of the town since he didn't want the burning corpse discovered and by the time he dealt with the body, cleaned the car, disposed of his bloody clothes, and swung by to pick up food for his brother, several hours had passed.

He unlocked the door and stepped inside, feeling hard eyes on him instantly. "Do you want me to prove it's me?" He knew the caution would be there and couldn't blame Dean since he remembered only too well how on edge he'd been after St. Louis.

"No, only you would ask that," Dean groaned as he tried to sit up. It took him a few tries, but he managed to do so. "How bad is it?" he asked.

"Let's just say you'll want to avoid sleeping on your back for a few nights." Sam tossed his jacket on the bed, bringing the bag of food over and pulling a salad container out before handing the rest over. "He cut you bad back there, and that one on your shoulder will be sore, but given that he could've killed you flat out, I guess we got lucky he was the sadistic type."

Dean looked at the salad and at Sam before reaching into the bag pull out a double bacon cheeseburger with extra onions. "Maybe I should check to see who you are because I haven't seen you eat in weeks and you hate bringing me extra onions."

"I'm making an effort here, Dean." Sam knew it was a small gesture but it was a start. "I know you want my soul back; I know I'm not the same person I was…and I do want to be. I do kinda want to be able to feel stuff again but…" He paused to move over to sit beside his brother, unwrapping the burger without thinking about it when he saw the trouble Dean was having since even moving the one shoulder was excruciatingly painful. "These 'shifters were able to get to use partly because we're not as close as we were. You were hurt like this because I'm not myself so…yeah…I'll reconsider it."

"It's a start," Dean nodded, willing to take what he could get for the moment. "Gonna keep me awake exercising again?"

Sam smirked, finishing his salad while Dean ate one of the burgers and then lay back down to allow the pain meds that Sam had held out begin to work. "No, I'll probably look for a couple new cases and then reclean those cuts on your back. I wanna make sure nothing gets infected and none of the stitches have pulled out."

Dean could see the wounds on his chest and arms, but his back was impossible to see so he'd have to trust Sam's opinion and the amount of pain he was in to tell him how bad it was. He let the pain meds take him under; he'd ask later where Sam got his hands on the good stuff.

Dean drifted awake several times over the next hours; each time he swore Sam and his laptop were a little bit closer to him. Finally, a careful touch to his sore back told him that Sam was cleaning the cuts to avoid infection. That was when he also thought he heard his brother's voice.

"I might not be the brother you want to have right now, but I will swear on the soul you're trying to get back that I will have your back and that no one else will hurt you…not an angel or a demon…not a Campbell…not some other damn monster…and…not me. I won't hurt you either. I won't."

There was more feeling in Sam's voice right then than Dean had heard since finding out his brother was out of the Cage. He didn't know why it seemed like at certain times there were pieces of Sam still there, but he did believe the quiet promise. He did believe that despite Sam's lack of a filter or the ability to see past black and white that he wouldn't hurt him…not that Dean planned to stop looking for a way to get his brother's soul out of that Cage and back where it belonged because he wasn't. He would get that back no matter who he had to piss off or deal with.

The End