Ch3: Low Standards

A lot of polite conversation went around the table before the food was served. They placed a plate in front of his brother that looked like an asparagus teepee. Sam choked back a laugh, knowing Dean would be leaving tonight starving. Jess and Mom went quiet just in time for Sam to hear a snippet of Dean and Carmen's private conversation.

"I have low standards," Carmen said.

Dean stared at her a moment before a soft smile broke through. He leaned forward to kiss her so tenderly, Sam could see that this girl actually meant something to his brother. It was similar to watching him with Cassie, but Carmen gave back just as much as she took. Mom was right, Carmen was good for Dean, so much better than all those one night stands.

"Sam!" Jess hissed. She motioned at Mom and then at her ring. It was time for the big announcement.

"Oh, right." He cleared his throat. "Uh, Mom, we have a little announcement for you." Mom's eyes lit up hopefully. Sam turned to Jess. "Do you want to tell them?" He hoped she would, especially since he didn't know a single detail of how he asked her or if they'd set a date or anything.

"It's your family," Jess said, shooting him a glare.

"Ooohh!!" Mom squealed, clapping her hands. "You didn't! Did you? Let me see it!"

Jess lifted up her hand with the diamond engagement ring on it. Mom laughed, jumping up to hug them both. Carmen politely congratulated both of them. Dean welcomed Jess to the family, which she accepted a little stiffly. Then Dean turned to him. It was the closest they had been to being alone. Sam searched his brother's face for any hint of the brother he knew.

"Always got to one-up me, don't you?" Dean growled at him.

Taken aback, Sam stared for a moment. "What do you mean?"

Dean shook his head. "Forget it." He turned away, moving back to Carmen's side. The closer Dean came to Carmen, the more his shoulders relaxed. Sam was not used to being the one who made his brother tense, not like this.

"Sam!" Dean's voice again from behind him, but his brother stood in front of him giving him the cold shoulder. Sam turned to look past their dinner party across the restaurant, where a very worried Dean stood. What the hell? Sam headed for the worried Dean, who was calling his name again. By the time he reached the spot, the image of Dean was gone. Like a ghost? What was going on here? How was this possible?

"Sam?" Jess tugged on his arm. "Baby? What is it?"

Sam shook his head, rejoining the party. "Nothing." He glanced back at the spot worried-Dean had been. "Maybe nothing," he whispered to himself. If this was some kind of dream, or nightmare, he needed wake up. Soon.

Back at the house, Mom thanked everyone for a wonderful birthday evening before excusing herself for bed.

"We should be going to bed, too," Jess said, tugging on Sam's arm.

Sam looked desperately to Dean. He needed to discuss this with somebody. Tonight. "Well, I don't know. Wouldn't you like to grab a beer or something?"

Dean stared at him blankly. "You're kidding."

Sam shook his head. Surely there was something of his real brother in this Dean, someplace where they still connected. He hoped so, because he needed help figuring out what was happening to him.

"Seriously?" Dean glanced back at Carmen, who shrugged and nodded. If Sam wasn't mistaken, Carmen looked hopeful. He turned to face Sam. "Well, I mean, if you don't mind going someplace kind of blue-collar. I've been kicked out of all the bars around here that you like." Carmen cleared her throat. "Oh, right." Dean snapped his fingers. "Carmen has the late shift tonight, so I'll have to drop her off first."

"I'll stay here," Jess interjected. She stood on the stairs, her head just a little higher than his. She mouthed at him 'are you sure?' He nodded emphatically. Jess shrugged. "You two have a good time, then. I'm tired." Jess gave him a lingering kiss, a reminder of what he was turning down. It wasn't like he'd try anything with his mother, of all people, in the same house. He eyed his former girlfriend, current fiancé, wondering if maybe it would be worth alienating Mom. It had been a while. Tempting, but there were pressing matters which required his immediate attention.

"Do you mind if I ride along while you drop off Carmen?" Sam asked after turning away from Jess.

Dean stared at him again, like Sam just sprouted a second head. "Whatever, dude." His brother held the door open for Carmen, giving him the strangest look as he followed. Sam made sure the front door locked behind him. Sam slid into the backseat of the Impala after Carmen got into the passenger seat. It felt weird to be in the backseat with Dean driving.

They dropped Carmen off at a small apartment complex. Dean left him in the car to walk her upstairs. Sam checked his watch after moving to the passenger seat, wondering just how long he might have to wait for his brother. It wasn't long, though Sam had been prepared for a wait. A gal that beautiful wouldn't have a hard time distracting his brother.

"That was quick," he commented as Dean sat behind the wheel.

"She has to work tonight," Dean snapped with a harsh glare.

Sam held up his hands in surrender. "Dude, I didn't mean anything by it. Honest."

Dean revved his motor before putting the car in drive. "So you're really ready to go to a bar I like?"

"Sure," Sam replied with a shrug, "why not?"

Dean turned on to a major street. "Because you hate me?"

Sam started. "I don't hate you, Dean." He stared at his brother. Was this his brother? And what was that ghost version of Dean back at the restaurant? "I never hated you."

Dean snorted. "Right. Whatever."

A nasty headache threatened right behind his eyes. "Is it much further? I really need a beer." He felt the car slow. When it came to a stop, Sam realized that he had his eyes squeezed closed.

"Sam? You okay?"

Sam pried his eyes open. Dean stared at him with such a familiar concerned look Sam instantly relaxed. "Honestly? I'm not sure. I don't even know if I can explain it." He glanced out the window at a bar that was not nearly as seedy as he expected. "Let's go."

Sam took the lead, which felt odd. He chose a table near the back exit, where he could keep an eye on the whole room. He sat with his back to the wall. Dean trailed behind, looking kind of amused.

"So, college boy, what's the agenda here?" Dean asked as he took a seat. "Not really your crowd."

Sam cleared his throat, rubbing his sweaty palms nervously on his pants. Dean was right, he did stand out here in slacks instead of jeans, and the promise of a nasty headache still loomed heavily on him. "Can't a guy just have a beer with his big brother?"

Dean's eyes narrowed at him. "When you're the guy and I'm the big brother? Ah, that would be 'no.' So what's going on?"

He had to try. The only person he knew he could count on was Dean. Even after Sam left for college and didn't call his brother for two years, Dean still wanted him around, went out of his way to come see Sam at Stanford, and continues to suggest they keep hunting together. Maybe this Dean could overlook their estrangement in this version reality the way his real brother did. "Have you ever heard of a djinn?"

Dean scowled. "Dude, I don't drink the hard stuff any more. I promised Carmen." As if to make his point, a waitress appeared balancing a tray with two beers. She set one in front of Dean before motioning to Sam.

"The same," Sam ordered. With a nod, she set the second beer down for him. He waited for her to move out of earshot before trying again. "Not gin, a djinn. It's a kind of genie."

"A genie? Like Barbara Eden?" Dean asked, picking up his mug.

"Yeah, I know, she's hot." Sam rolled his eyes. "In theory, yes, like the tv show. They're supposed to have the ability to grant wishes. I think maybe one did."

"Did what?" Dean asked, one eyebrow lifting.

Sam fiddled with his mug. "I think one granted my wish."

Dean laughed, pointing a finger at him. "You don't remember asking Jess to marry you, do you?" He pounded the table, eyes alight with glee. "And now you're reduced to asking me for help, because your snobby college friends wouldn't approve." He shook his head but continued to grin widely. "Well, you can forget it. Mom would kill me."

"No, that's not it. I…" He paused. "Actually I don't remember asking Jess to marry me. To be honest," he searched his brother's eyes before continuing, "I don't remember a lot of things."

The amusement fell from his older brother's face, replaced by the concern that made him seem more like Dean should. "What are you talking about? Amnesia?"

Sam swallowed hard, unsure how to explain. "Maybe. The thing is, I have memories, but they don't seem to fit with this…reality."

"This reality?" Dean set his beer back down. "You're messing with me, aren't you? You know I like those movies and now you're messing with me. What is this? I know Jess doesn't want me in the wedding, but you're inviting us, right?"

Sam let out a frustrated grunt. "This has nothing to do with the wedding!" he snapped. "I'm talking about altering reality! In my world…" Sam stopped midsentence. Dean really looked confused and worried now. "This was a mistake," he said shaking his head, "I'm sorry. Look, I'll, uh, call a cab or something."

Sam pushed away from the table to leave. One of Dean's hands grasped his arm, holding tight. "Wait a minute. Sit down." Dean nodded at the chair still right below his ass. Sam sat. "You're not kidding, are you? You're really worried?"

Sam blew out a sigh. "No, I'm not kidding. And yes, I'm really worried."

"Okay," Dean said, releasing his arm. "So what wish did it grant? This Barbara Eden-type genie."

Sam felt embarrassed to admit it out loud. "To be normal," he whispered.

"What was that?" Dean asked. "What was your wish?" He leaned forward to hear Sam over the bar noises.

Sam's cheeks burned as he repeated, "To be normal."

Dean laughed at him. "Sam, you're the most normal person I know."

Sam nodded at his brother. "Sure. Here." He gestured around him. "But this is only the second time I can remember coming to Lawrence."

His brother's eyebrows drew together. "Sam, you grew up here. You went to high school just up the road."

Sam shook his head. "I went to five different high schools. We grew up on the road, living out of crappy motels and the Impala."

Dean shook his head. "You are messing with me."

Sam drummed his fingers on the table. His eyes landed on the dart boards on the far wall. "What if I can prove it to you?"

"Okay." Dean shrugged, glancing around. "How?"

Sam grabbed his beer. "Follow me, big brother." He headed for the darts. Two guys were already over there, playing for about twenty bucks a game. Sam made the same bet with Dean. Dean was pretty good, not as good as he should have been, but he clearly spent a lot of time in bars playing darts. Sam barely lost. When he did, he whispered to Dean to announce that his brother didn't want another game.

"Come on, you gotta give me a shot at winning my money back," Sam whined plaintively.

"I'll give you a game," one of the other guys playing darts offered. "Same bet?"

Sam shrugged. "Well, since he's being a spoilsport, sure."

The next game Sam won on what appeared to be a lucky break. The guy insisted on playing again, double or nothing. Sam took him up on it, winning by a little more than a lucky break this time.

"Thanks for the game," Sam said as he took his winnings. "Come on," he told Dean, "I'll buy you a beer."

Dean followed slowly, to a booth on the back wall. "What the hell was that?" Dean asked once they sat down. "If I didn't know better, I'd swear you just hustled that guy."

"I did." Sam slapped a twenty down on the table.

"You did what?" Dean asked. Man, he looked so worried now Sam figured their two worlds had to be blending.

"I hustled him. Do me a favor and keep an eye out. If the guy figures it out, he might try to jump us when we leave." Sam sipped his fresh beer.

"Who are you and what did you do to my brother?" Dean asked seriously.

Sam shook his head. "I have no idea. I just woke up in this reality yesterday."

"Yesterday," Dean repeated. "And before that? You just moved around all the time? No law school?"

Sam cleared his throat before answering. "I didn't get the chance to go to law school."

"Why not? You not as smart in this other reality?" Dean grinned at that. "If that's the case, I might keep you around."

"Ha – ha." Sam rolled his eyes. "No, it's because…" He found he did not want to admit what happened to Jess, and he realized Dean was probably just humoring him. "It's because you and I have been on a road trip."

"You and me?" Dean downed about half his beer. "Now I know you're drunk. If we were in the same car together for more than twenty minutes we'd kill each other."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Now you're talking about me and Dad, not you and me."

Dean's beer froze in midair before returning it to the table with a clunk. Amber liquid sloshed over the top, spilling down the side and over Dean's hand. "Excuse me? Since when did the perfect son not get along with Dad?"

Sam fiddled with his mug. "I was never Dad's perfect son." He looked right in Dean's eyes. "That was you, and you and I fought about it until the day he died."

"Dad…" Dean looked away, breathing deep. "I never told him…"

"Me either," Sam said gently. He checked his watch. It was nearly two in the morning, but he didn't want to leave.

Dean checked his watch too. "We should go or Mom will bitch me out for keeping you out late."

Sam shrugged, taking another long pull on his beer. "I'm not ready. I'll tell her it was my fault."

Dean gave him another of those strange looks. "If you tell her any of this, you're going to find yourself in the psych ward. As it is, I'm going to talk to Carmen when she gets home. She knows all the good doctors up at the hospital."

"I'm not sick, Dean," Sam argued. "I'm just from a different reality. Where you and I get along."

"Yeah, that sounds sane." Dean jerked his head toward the exit. "Come on, let's get you home."

"Look, should I have been able to hustle those guys at darts? Seriously, Dean, I'm not from here," Sam insisted. Movement from one of the other booths caught his attention. As Dean squirmed for an answer, one which probably would not involve science fiction, Sam recognized the leader of the group headed their way. It was the guy he took at darts. Damn. He made a hissing noise to get Dean's attention and nodded at the four guys approaching the table.

"Oh, that's just great." Dean turned to glare at him. "Did I mention I also promised Carmen I wouldn't fight any more?"

"Might not have much of a choice," Sam muttered. He polished off his beer, worried it might not survive the next five minutes.

When the group of men stopped at their table, Dean was still glaring at him. Sam kicked his brother in the shin under the table. "Hey, man," Sam said with a smile, "I don't really want another game."

The guy he hustled turned to glare at Dean. "Winchester, right? I've heard stories about you. You set me up, didn't you?"

Dean shot Sam a hard look before turning back to the jerk. "Look, I had no idea my wimpy law school brother could play darts, okay?" Dean pulled his wallet out of his pocket. "What did you win, Sam? Forty?" He pulled a couple of twenties out.

"What the hell are you doing, Dean!" Sam snapped as he jumped to his feet. He shoved Dean's wallet with one hand. "Put that away." Sam turned his attention to the jerk. "If you can't handle losing a little cash, then you shouldn't play for money, asshole."

The only thing that saved him from either a fat lip or busted nose was Dad's training. Sam threw a right cross that should have broken something, but he was more out of shape than he thought and it just snapped the guy's head to the side. Somebody grabbed his right arm then, but Sam was in fighting mode. He dropped the next two to get in his space and was prepared to take out the fourth when he realized it was Dean standing in front of him. Sam pulled that punch barely in time, just missing his brother's jaw which flopped wide open.

His eyes searched for the fourth guy, but Dean dragged him out of the bar. "There was one more," he insisted, squirming in his brother's grip.

"Yeah, that one took off the second you knocked the first guy out. Guess they thought you would be…well…the way you usually are," Dean said as he was forced outside.

Sam looked at his brother in surprise. "So you really didn't get into the fight? You just let me handle it?"

"I promised Carmen," Dean repeated. Sam noticed Dean did not turn him loose until they were in the parking lot. When they reached the car, Dean spun him around. "Where the hell did you learn to fight like that?" he demanded.

"Dad," Sam said simply. "Same as you."

Dean shook his head. "Dad never taught me to fight. When did you learn?"

"On the road, growing up," Sam replied shrugging. "Honestly, you were always better at it than I was." He tried to smile at his brother. "We used to spar all the time."

Dean prodded his chest with one finger. "You're delusional." A second Dean appeared in the distance, pacing. "Get in the car!"

Sam watched until the pacing Dean disappeared. Again. Maybe he was delusional. As Sam slipped into the passenger seat, he had an idea about connecting his brother. "Dean? Where would I learn to hustle darts, or pool, or fight?"

Dean turned sharply in the driver's seat. "You hustle pool, too? Oh God, I am so screwed."

"Why would you be screwed?" Sam stared at this strange version of his brother.

"Why?" Both of Dean's eyebrows shot up so far, Sam was afraid they might tangle with his brother's hairline. "Because, somehow, this is going to be my fault! That's why!" He slammed his palm against the steering wheel.

As he reached for the radio, Dean hesitated. "Aren't you going to start complaining about my choice of music?"

Sam shook his head, suppressing a grin. This just might work. "Driver picks the music, passenger shuts his cakehole."

Dean's eyes widened comically big. "How the hell did you get drunk off of just a couple of beers?"

"I'm not drunk," Sam insisted. "I'm not delusional, and I am not spending the night at Mom's."

"So where are you planning to stay the night?" Dean demanded.

"Your place." Sam cut his eyes to the side just in time to catch the utter bewilderment on Dean's face. "Please?"

Dean turned sideways in the seat to face him. "You're messing with me, right?" A smile snaked its way across Dean's face. "Oh, I get it. Trying to teach me a lesson or something. Okay, I give." He spread his hands wide. "What? What do I need to learn?"

Sam stared at his brother in disbelief. With the way his luck was running, it was the ghost image of Dean he really needed to connect with. Great. Just freaking perfect.

"Just take me back to the house," he muttered, slouching down in defeat. He really thought that would work. It would have worked with his real brother, not this cheap copy. He stared out the window the whole drive, scenery flashing past without making any impression.

The car was stopped for several minutes before Sam realized they weren't moving. He did not want to go into the house, but he guessed he really didn't have much choice.

"Sam?"

He turned slowly to look at Dean. Dean actually looked a little worried. Sure, now the jerk started to get it.

"Hey, man." Dean reached over tentatively to rest a hand on his shoulder. "You all right? You're not getting sick, are you?"

Sam shook off the hand as he reached to open the door. "Nah." He paused with the door open. Feeling guilty to worry his brother, even if it was a strange, distant version, Sam looked back over his shoulder. "You're right, I was messing with you. I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

He let the car door slam closed. "Night, Dean!" Sam called out without turning around as he headed to the house.

One of the keys in his pocket fit the front door. How convenient. Sam let himself in quietly, locking it behind him. He waited after closing the door. It was almost half a minute before he heard the sound of the Impala driving off. Huh. Maybe there was something of the real Dean in that man after all.

Sam stood at the foot of the stair, not moving. He couldn't quite bring himself to go upstairs. The last thing he wanted to do right now was crawl in bed beside Jess. She looked, sounded, felt, and even smelled like his Jess. That brought back too many intense memories and emotions, most of which Sam thought he was over. Then he sat next to her on a plane for three hours. It was too hard to go up there, he couldn't trust himself.

He had slept on motel beds less comfortable than the couch, even if he had to scrunch up his body to fit. Sleep was a long time coming as his mind churned through various scenarios of how exactly he could connect with his brother, even this altered version, and if he should.