Timeline: This Story is set sometime in Season 6, probably a few weeks after Sam's wall cracks.

Rating: T for mild language, violence, and blood. Lots of blood :P

Warning: Lots of twists coming, don't assume you know where this is headed because you may be surprised!

Chapter 1: Images Mirrored

Something felt wrong. 6:34am, Dean rolled over onto his side and faced the windows where patches of sunlight squeezed through the cracks in the motel curtains that never quite completely shut. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong- he looked to his left- Sam's empty bed. Sam was already awake and Dean could hear the shower water running.

Then it hit him.

Wrong bed.

Why was he in this bed? This was Sam's bed, right? Sam always slept on this side of the room- the bed closest to the windows. He slowly stood up, straightening to his full height- he felt dizzy, the ground felt so far away and his head felt so light- he grimaced. No, not a hangover. He didn't remember drinking the night before- and there was no excruciating headache, no sensitivity to light. But then again, on further reflection he realized he couldn't remember anything from the night before. Heck, come to think of it, he didn't even recognize this hotel room. But there was the salt by the door, a Winchester safety standard. And Sam's laptop, on top of the bedside table. It *was* their hotel room- not some chick he had followed home. He rubbed his eyes, trying to focus. His hands felt big. His depth perception felt weird, everything felt smaller… or shorter. And he felt so tall. The dizziness was turning to nausea. He tried to walk but found his legs were too weak to hold him, he quickly sat back down on the edge of his bed. Pushed the hair out of his eyes.

He pushed the hair out of his eyes? What? Hair? In his eyes? He couldn't remember the last time his hair was this long. Sure his hair grew fast but since when did he go to bed and wake up with Sammy hair? He tugged at it.- yeah, it was his. Or at least it was attached to his scalp. Sure crazier things had happened but this was just…. Weird. No, weird he could understand, this was…. Yeah, there was really no word for this.

He sat there, mind spinning. Nope. He was coming up with nothing. A drug trip? No. Hangover? Already went over that. No. A curse or a witch's spell? And what would that be? Cursed with Sammy hair and a head that felt like it was either going to explode from internal pressure or be crushed by an external weight such as an anvil… or a refrigerator? (Couldn't tell- both felt possible). And don't forget the really big hands. He looked down, his feet were really big too. Oh, and waking up in the wrong bed. He never took the bed closest to the windows… too drafty. That was Sammy's thing. He liked the "fresh air".

Where was Sam? Was he still in the shower? Damn that guy took forever in the shower. And as if in answer to Dean's unspoken question, from the other room Dean heard a half yelp, some thumping around and then a gigantic crash. Dean was on his feet, forgetting his dizziness, raced forward just as the bathroom door opened and Dean came face to face with…. Dean?

Is this what he looked like when was scared?

His green eyes were round. In contrast to his Casper the ghost-white face, his freckles looked like someone had taken a sharpie pen and drawn them in. And blood was pouring profusely from a large gash on his forehead. That explained the crash. Or rather the crash explained the blood.

But then again, it wasn't him. Because how could he be staring at himself? Mirrors didn't come running towards you. At least not in his experience. But it looked like him. Only a really short version of him.

A demon?

It stared at him, eyes wide, unblinking.

Dean stumbled backwards, grabbing the holy water from the nightstand, splashed it on the doppelganger or the demon or the shafe shipper… errr, shape shifter. While it spluttered, seemingly unharmed by the holy water, Dean reached for the silver knife underneath his pillow and lunged forward but the creature grabbed his wrist, taking the knife easily from his hands.

"Dean! It's me, Sam!"

The voice was tinged with panic.

Dean tried to reach for the knife but "It" held it out of his reach and pushed him away. Dean fell backwards onto the bed. He watched as the creature with his face walked purposefully towards him, grabbed him roughly by the arm and pulled him towards the bathroom.

"Come here."

It pushed him towards a mirror. And there he saw Sam. Staring back at him.

"Holy freaky Friday, Sammy!"

One Week Ago

It was cold. It was damp. They were hunting a rugaru. Sam's legs were beginning to cramp from crouching in the same position for what felt like an eternity. Sam could feel Dean's eyes on him. He also knew the expression he'd see in Dean's eyes if he turned around and looked at him. It had been awhile since Sam had been smacked with that "face full of hell", as Dean had put it. Sam had been scratching at the wall despite his brother's pleadings not to and Dean never missed an opportunity to point out how he always knew best. Dean had been right, Sam had been wrong. Again. But he knew this wasn't the end of it. He didn't want to argue with Dean but Sam wasn't going to let it rest. He wasn't going to just pretend that whatever happened during that year without a soul never happened. He needed to know. He needed to make things right. His conscience, it was what made him human. And during the past year he hadn't been human. Now that he had his soul back he couldn't shove aside his conscience.

No matter what the two brothers had been through, separately and together, some things never changed and one of those things was Dean's protectiveness towards Sam. There had been a time when Sam insisted he didn't need a big brother to protect him and for a while Dean had been forced to admit that this was true. But now with the stability of this wall in his mind threatened, protective Dean was back. And if Sam were honest he would be forced to admit that he needed Dean. It wasn't that he didn't want to need Dean, he just wanted Dean to need him back. Or rather for Dean to admit that he needed Sam.

"I appreciate the concern but would you please stop looking at me like I'm going to freakin' spaz out at any moment!"

Dean response was gentle. Of course it was. Dean had been so freakin' sympathetic lately. "Sam. I heard what the demon said."

What the demon had said. "It was a demon, Dean, it was probably lying."

But Sam didn't think it was and the demon's revelation had shaken him. Made him question whether he wanted to know about his missing year. Of course he didn't want to know. But it had also made him realize just how much he needed to know.

He wasn't going to tell Dean though, he couldn't let Dean know how seriously he was taking the Demon's words. Dean would never let Sam out of his sight if he knew that Sam planned to look into what the Demon had said.

"Well that explanation's good enough for me. Leave it at that." Dean wasn't suggesting.

They were on the move. Together they combat crawled a few more feet through the grass, being careful not to make a sound. Sam was going to respond to Dean's comment but Dean gripped his arm tightly, "Shh. There it is." he whispered, nodding his head in the direction of the monster they were stalking. Sam pushed the hair from his eyes and saw it. Just as it saw them.

Blood. There was a lot of it. On the beds, on the carpet, on the door knob, and most disturbing, on his clothes. They had examined themselves carefully, looking for any fresh wounds and had found nothing. But there it was and it couldn't be older than a week old.

A week old. According to the front desk that's apparently when they had checked in and according to the date in the newspaper that's apparently how much time they'd lost.

"What's the last thing you remember?"Sam put his head in his hands and sighed. "I don't know. We were hunting that rugaru. We were in the grass. That's it." The rugaru had been a week ago.

Dean shook his head, "Yeah, same here. Man, what happened? Do you think that demon had something to do with this?"

"No, we exorcised it and I've never heard of a demon putting a curse on someone. We should summon Cas."

"Yeah, well Cas doesn't answer his phone."

Sam took a deep breath and rose to his feet. "Well I gotta get some air. I'll be back."

"Sam?" Sam turned around, "Did we kill the rugaru?"

Sam paused for a few moments, "I have no idea."

One Week Ago

The rugaru stared at them.

They stared at the rugaru.

A standoff. So this was how it was going to be. Both waiting to see what the other would do.

In some strange way Dean was enjoying himself. Maybe a little too much. It was all so straight forward, black and white. Here he and Sammy were fighting monsters together again, just like old times. No demons messing with your mind, no apocalypse, so crazy demon blood, no destiny crap. Just them and a monster. Now all they had to do was set the son of a bitch on fire and they could call it a night.

Looking at the rugaru it was hard to believe that this monster had ever been human. It had been an easy case to solve, and the rugaru had been sloppy. 'Just because you're a monster with super-human strength doesn't mean you have any brains.' Dean had said to Sam. The rugaru had had a name, a job, and a family. But then Todd Rowe had been consumed with an overwhelming hunger for human flesh and he ate his family. Not all at once, he tied them up, and stored them in the basement where he would feed on them as he needed. And this monster is what he'd become. That's how rugarus transformed. They looked just like humans until they ate human flesh and then it was all over, no turning back.

Of course the neighbors had grown suspicious when Mrs. Rowe started missing her Tuesday night bridge club, when little Todd Rowe Jr. ceased knocking on Mrs. Atkin's door asking for cookies, and when Carolyne Rowe's unexplained absences from school were noticed by her teacher. That's when a truant officer knocked on the family door and was never heard from again. That's when the police got involved. And that's when Todd Rowe had fled. Leaving behind the bloody bones of his family.

It moved fast. Sure Dean had fought a rugaru before but he still didn't expect this speed. It had Sam. Was on top of Sam. Sam was screaming as it tore into his flesh. Dean didn't think, just let instinct and adrenaline kick in. He grabbed his gun, punched the monster full of holes. Wouldn't kill him but maybe it would stun him a bit. The creature growled angrily, now he was pissed. His eyes burned red. He leapt forward towards dean, knocking the gun from his hands, throwing him to the ground. Stunned by the force by which he'd been thrown, Dean crawled to his feet as the rugaru lumbered forward. Dean grabbed him by his ankles, knocking him to the ground, he began throwing punches. Where was Sam. Why hadn't he joined in the fight? "Sam!" he shouted, "get the lighter fluid!" He heard a moan from Sam's direction. But then the rugaru had Dean's arm, he twisted it and pulled forward, Dean could feel it tear from it's socket. He screamed in agony. Energized by the shift in control, the rugaru threw Dean off of him, Dean felt his head slam against a tree. No air. He couldn't breathe. He tried to get back on his feet but the rugaru was back at him. Red hot. Searing pain as the monster tore into him. He struggled to get the rugaru off him but his right arm was useless. He couldn't see in the dark, but suddenly the rugaru was off of him. Sam. Sam had grabbed him. Lunged at him with a knife straight to the heart. Didn't kill him. Of course it didn't kill him but it had to have hurt. The two of them, throwing punches, kicking, throwing each other around like rag dolls. The rugaru pulled the knife from his chest and suddenly it was in Sam. "Nooo!" Dean screamed as Sam crumbled to the ground. Dean grabbed a rock, rushed forward with a blow to the rugaru's head that knocked him out cold.

TBC