Victor could hardly believe the words leaving his mouth, but they felt right. Was he was actually buying into this bizarre notion? Torn between the old, comfortable way of thinking and the need to deal effectively with the irrational events of the past day, Victor found himself both believing and disbelieving what was happening.

Seeing Dean become more physically vulnerable had made Victor ready to capitalize on any mistake or opening the injured young man made. But there had still been the nagging questions - why had Dean, despite his injuries, gone through such a huge effort, heroic even, to rescue him, a total stranger at the time, in the first place? And why was he still alive, now that Dean knew his identity? Victor had really expected a gun put to his face followed by a bullet ... not the look of shock and dismay on Dean's face as recognition dawned. Then topping it off, even as he realized his danger, Dean had quickly recovered and managed to subdue the FBI agent efficiently and without any undo damage to either of them.

Victor had been through training sessions more violent and painful. Again, nothing like what he expected from the supposedly murderous criminal that he had been tracking all these months. He was almost tempted to say that Dean had been strangely gentle and apologetic while tying him up; not that he had done a half hearted job of it, because Dean had done the task briskly and efficiently. There wasn't any real chance of Victor being able to break free of his bonds, which was yet another verification of how well John Winchester had trained his sons. Yet why treat his wounds or try to help him with the pain? Questions and more questions. None of the facts jived with the assumptions he had made concerning this case. If Victor wanted to know the truth, and he very much did, then he was going to have to be a lot more open minded. And the first step on that path was to find out from one Dean Winchester what he thought was going on.

Dean slid around to give his aching shoulder some relief. Damn, he could really use a stiff drink right now. Make that more than one. But most of what had been in the bottle was used to get through the stitching up of his wounds and earlier he had just about finished off the little bit that was left. 'Son of a bitch!', he thought. And now thanks to all the fun and games tonight, the stitches were all pulled out and the trickle of blood running down his back was just one more thing to bear. He felt like crap and looking at Hendrickson, was sure that the agent felt just as miserable as he did. 'Suck it up, Dean.' Hendrickson wasn't a friend, but he was a fellow human trying to do the right thing, however misguided his notion of "right" may be. But Dean's innate fairness made him reconsider, 'Well, maybe that's being a little harsh considering the fact that a lot of the stuff we do is pretty illegal.'

Eying Victor, Dean gave a wry grin, "I'm not sure I can explain what's going on out there tonight, because I'm not sure myself. But I can tell you that the supernatural is real and a lot of urban legends are based on spirits that get trapped here on earth instead of going on to wherever they should have gone. Angry spirits that can get violent and hurt people. Then there are monsters out there that prey on people for food, or blood, or life force. And there are demons out there. Evil sons of bitches that kill for the fun of it. Evil things that we send back to hell." The last bit was practically spat out as Dean's anger and fear found an outlet.

Victor just sat quietly with an intent expression. Slightly encouraged, Dean paused and gathered himself, "The real killer in St. Louis... that was a shapeshifter, a creature that sheds its skin and looks just like you or me, at least until it sheds again and then it looks like someone else. And it can read minds so that it can take the place of whoever it's replacing. That's also what killed all those people in Milwaukee... we traced it to the sewer line under the banks, and id'd it as the bank manager because their eyes reflect back the light from the camera. Makes it look like their eyes glow. We would have followed it back from the bank and dealt with it, but Ronald showed up trying to take things in his own hands." Dean's voice grew soft and his eyes stared off into nothingness. "Ron figured it out all by himself. Did a damn good job, too."

"Sam tried to discourage him, took away his evidence thinking it would keep him safe, but instead it just set him off to try and stop it on his own if no one was going to believe him. He was just trying to help... do the right thing. But the damn thing kept shifting skins and getting away from us. Only way to kill them is with silver to the heart, so you gotta be sure you have the right one... Ron was chasing it when he was shot."

Dean paused and it was apparent to Victor that he still mourned for Ron and his tragic end. At the same time, Victor was reeling from information that completely upset everything that he thought he knew and understood about the world around him. Both men sat silently for a moment, each lost in their own thoughts.

It's a hard thing, giving up one's comfortable assumptions. But any lingering doubts about Dean's sincerity were now pretty much put to rest in Victor's mind. The person that Victor spoke to on the phone in Milwaukee and the prisoner that he confronted in Little Rock, these were persona that Dean used to confound his enemies, be they supernatural beings or human authority figures. The man sitting across from him here in this god forsaken cabin in the middle of nowhere, this was the "real" Dean Winchester. At least, as far as Victor was concerned. Not only was this man not a monster, but Victor's new insight went a long way towards explaining the reason why his files contained such strong supporting statements from fellow enforcement officers and other witnesses. Victor was a fair man, and was willing to own up to his mistakes. If he was going to die, he would be dying in good company. And Victor wanted to make sure that whoever or whatever those bastards outside were, they would be made to pay dearly for their lives. And to do that, he would have to gain Dean's trust.

"So what about the thing that looked like you in St Louis? The one they buried. How did that go down?"

Dean's attention jerked away from his reverie and back onto Victor. His expression changed as he remembered that ill fated mission. Another notch of bad luck... no good deed goes unpunished.

"We were headed for a gig in Arizona, but Sam got this e-mail from a college friend, Rebecca, about her brother, Zak, and insisted we check it out. I didn't think it was our kind of job at first, but Sam's like a dog with a bone... and turns out he was right after all." Dean gave a slight shrug, and then grimaced as his shoulder objected to even that small movement.

"You doing OK there?" Victor asked.

"I'm alright.", came Dean's automatic response, though the words being hissed through gritted teeth did little to reassure Victor that Dean was anywhere close to being "alright". It took a moment before Dean continued.

"Anyway, we traced it to the sewers and finally found signs of its lair down there. We ran into it and chased it up into the streets. We split up to try and pick up its trail again; and that's when it got the drop on me. Took my clothes and changed into "me" so it could get close to Sam. Damn things are strong, man. It got both of us.", Dean said ruefully. "It kept us alive because it needs its victim alive, at least for awhile, in order to like... download memories from them. It would use those memories to gain the trust of the real victim, the person that that sonuvabitch would torture and kill for kicks. Worst part was that the victim thinks it's being done by someone they trust and love. Sick. And then the damn thing would change shape again and leave the person it copied alive to face the cops. It copied Rebecca's brother, Zak, stole some of his clothes and then killed his girlfriend, leaving him to face the murder rap. It killed again when we were there. That's how we got the lead on it." Dean paused for a moment, the memories were still painful and while he had concentrated on the injustice of being branded a criminal because of the shapeshifter's actions, Dean had buried the rest of the unpleasant memories along with all the others he had accumulated over the years. Maybe that's how he'd spend his time in hell... having all those memories replay themselves over and over again.

Meanwhile, Victor waited for Dean to go on and when the silence continued he spoke up, "You're right. That was one sick puppy. But how did you manage to finish it off?"

"Um, well ... Like I said, it needed to keep us alive and it knew about Rebecca... so it went to her place looking like me. By the time we got ourselves loose, it was too late for us to get there in time, so we called in the tip."

"That was you guys did that?" Victor exclaimed, truly impressed in spite of himself.

"Well, yeah...Sam found a pay phone and made the call... I mean... we were the only ones who knew what was going on and there wasn't much time left." Dean couldn't help the edge in his voice. When Sam had brought up the need to make the call, Dean had been less than thrilled with the notion of calling in a 911 report on "himself". But since he had nothing better to offer, Dean had no choice but to go along with the idea. Which resulted in Dean being framed for attempted murder and that was what ultimately brought the brothers to the attention of the FBI. Dean was still pissed about the whole thing and his anger and frustration were evident in his voice.

Expecting a less emotional reaction, Victor was once again caught off guard and hastened to move the story forward. "Well, yeah, now that I have your side of the story, it makes perfect sense... but I've been picking through your files for months now and let me tell you - it's enough to drive you nuts."

"Like I said... welcome to my life.", Dean snorted. "The less you think about it, the better off you'll feel." Dean slowly shook his head then tilted it back to stare at the ceiling. "I mean, the only reason why you even half believe me is 'cause you're stuck here in the middle of this thing", Dean lowered his gaze and leveled it directly at Victor," and it's either believe me or convince yourself that you've lost your mind and this is one crazy hallucination."

"I think I'd be happier if this were a hallucination. But since it isn't, I still want to know what happened in St. Louis. The stuff that isn't in the official reports"

"Well, you know the cops saved her and put out an APB on me, but the shapeshifter was still out there and we were trying to get our weapons back when Sam got picked up by the local cops. They couldn't hold him long and we were to meet up back at Rebecca's and then go after the thing. But I was able get our stuff back before Sam was released, so I went looking for the thing back at its lair. Good thing, too. That's where I found Rebecca tied up. Damn thing wasn't done with its fun yet. She'd just seen that thing "change" into "her", so she figured out that it was really that thing and not me that had hurt her. Brave girl. I told her that Sam had gone to her place and she insisted on coming with me. When we got there the thing had Sam... was strangling him... so I... I did what I had to do... silver bullet to the heart." Dean paused once more and smiled at the irony of the situation. "So. Guess I just confessed to killing a supernatural evil thing, uh? That should put me to the top of your most wanted list, don't ya think?"

Victor snorted and shook his head,"I don't think that anyone would believe me here and now, any more than they believed you in Baltimore or I would have back in Milwaukee." They both chuckled wryly at the thought, then Victor continued in a sober tone," I don't know if I could do what you and your brother do. I've always prided myself on being tough and able to handle any situation... but this is beyond anything I've ever dealt with. You know, if I had taken you down back in Milwaukee, they would'a given me a medal and said I was a hero. Where the hell is the justice in that?"

"Justice? There is no justice. If there was, my mom wouldn't have died the way she did! Sam would still be at Stanford and I'd ... I'd have had options." Dean exclaimed. 'And I wouldn't be faced with going to hell when my year is up.' he grimly thought to himself. Dean glared at Victor, but his expression softened as he realized that Victor was in full agreement with him. In fact, the sympathetic look in Victor's eyes made Dean feel guilty about raising his voice. Recovering his composure, Dean slowly made his way over to Victor and started to fuss with Victor's injured leg.

"I wish I had something better to give you for that, but Sam was on a supply run when all this came down. What say I untie you, huh? Maybe you can find a more comfortable position.", undoing the ropes and duct tape that bound Victor even as he spoke. "But I can give you something that will make whatever it is out there feel some pain when it comes after us. You want the shotgun or the pistol?" The two men smiled grimly at each other as they considered the possibilities of payback.

After freeing Victor, Dean helped him get more comfortable, a relative thing at best given the condition of his leg, and made sure they had plenty of water, both drinking and holy water, and assorted ammo close to hand. He divvied up what food there was, just some jerky, potted meat and canned beans. It would have to do.

Finishing off his portion of the beans, Victor had to ask about another weird occurrence that had been bothering him. "So what the hell took you two to Little Rock? It never made any sense... that rookie mistake in the museum... never made any sense that you would even be in there in the first place. What was really going on?"

Dean stared at him with a closed off look on his face. Victor immediately knew that no matter how Dean answered, there would be information withheld. Even with little or no expectation of surviving the night, Dean would not betray the trust of whoever else had been involved in that escapade. Victor respected that, so he decided to back peddle and redirect his question into a less threatening inquiry. He still wanted answers, but Dean wasn't back in an interrogation room and Victor really hadn't meant to slip back into his "third degree" style of questioning. A bad habit he needed to work on, except that it didn't look like he'd be getting the opportunity.

Instead of pursuing that line of questioning, Victor changed course and asked a more general question and from there the two men spent the next hour or so discussing the finer points of inflicting damage upon supernatural entities with salt, iron and silver, why it was necessary to dig up graves and salt & burn the remains, and why Dean kept a flask of holy water and copy of an exorcism rite close to hand. Dean told an edited version of their efforts against the YED and its recently released demonic army. The former adversaries had found common ground and mutual respect in the most unlikely of circumstances, united against an unseen foe that seemed certain to overwhelm them before the night was through.

Victor even volunteered information on what the FBI knew about the Winchesters and how they were able to react so quickly to any leads that showed up on the grid. "What I don't get is how you guys got here so fast. I mean you were in South Bend just yesterday and my team deployed there first thing this afternoon. "

Dean just stared at him. "We haven't been in South Bend in months. What makes you think we were there yesterday?" he replied.

Now it was Victor's turn to stare. "I was on leave visiting family when a routine robbery investigation turned up a surveillance tape with you and your brother on it. The local LEOs alerted us and I got called in. I was headed for an airport and flight to South Bend when all this went down. Got lost on a detour and ended up here."

"Dude, we were getting the crap kicked out of us by one bad assed poltergeist last night and then drove all night to get here this morning. I don't know who was on that tape, but it sure wasn't us. Honest."

"One look alike I can buy, but two together? What? Do these shapeshifters go around in pairs?" It sounded crazy, but Victor snorted when he considered that there hadn't been a damn thing that night that wasn't crazy. And the bemused look on Dean's face as he shook his head just reaffirmed Victor's assessment.

Once again, Dean pulled out his emf meter and checked around the cabin for readings. And got nothing. Nada... zip... zilch. No scent of ozone or emf readings to indicate a spirit. Add to that no stench of sulfur or visions from Sam that he'd expect if it was a demonic occurrence. Well, scratch that last thought. Sam had been "vision free" since Dean had taken out old yellow eyes with the Colt.

Dean was going nuts trying to figure it out. The salt had held up so far, though the building was shaking and wind outside howling once more. The only thing Dean had actually seen so far was the "werewolf" that behaved like a spirit, but what Victor had described was more like a standard issue restless spirit. There should be emf readings. This wasn't like any supernatural foe Dean had ever faced before. It was insane and it was going against everything Dean had learned in all his years of hunting. If it was a curse, there was no record of previous problems. Could the demons have found out about this place and set up some kind of booby trap? But why would Hendrickson be pulled in like this?

Like nothing Dean had ever faced before; his mind was spinning as he tried to figure it out ... and then it hit him. This wasn't real. It couldn't be, so it must be an illusion of some sort. So now the question was, who was creating this? Not a Djinn... unlike demons, those monsters wanted their victims happy while their life blood was drained from them. Dean racked his brain for the answer, and then it came to him. A trickster. It had to be. There were a number of them out there and one must have decided that the Winchesters were fair game, especially since they had taken out one it its buddies awhile back. For the first time that long night, Dean felt hopeful that they would survive this ordeal.

"Hey, Victor.", Dean called across to Hendrickson, "Would you call yourself a dick?". Victor stared at Dean and the ridiculously huge grin on his face for a moment, convinced that the blood loss from his reopened wounds was making the young man become delirious. Gently he said, "I'm sure some have thought so, but I'd say that I was just doing my job the best way I knew how. How are you doing over there, son? You need some water? I've plenty here if you're thirsty."

Dean just continued to grin and fought the urge to laugh out loud. While a trickster was nothing to sneeze at, Dean was practically giddy with relief that it was something he knew and had faced before. Maybe they would make it after all, though Dean was still uncertain as to why a trickster would be messing around with Victor. Shaking his head at the offer of water, Dean wondered if a stake smeared with Victor's blood would do the trick against their common foe. And pondered further on how he would need to phrase the request to avoid Victor feeling the need to shoot him out of self defense. Because that request was going to sound as crazy as everything else they had dealt with this night; but a stake coated with their victim's blood was the only weapon that Dean knew that would work against a trickster.

"Thanks, man, but no, I'm not losing it. In fact, I think I finally figured it out." Dean looked straight at Victor and his grin got even bigger, a feat that Victor would have sworn was impossible if he hadn't been looking right at it. "Sam and I once found ourselves on a hunt that made no sense at all; at least not until we... um... realized.. ," Dean paused for a beat as he carefully considered how to phrase his response, because there was no way he was admitting to Hendrickson that it was really Bobby Singer who figured out who the real culprit was. Forgetting that Victor had overheard his phone call to Sam, Dean figured that Hendrickson knew nothing about Bobby and, while Dean felt that Victor was coming around to a more sympathetic view of the "family business", he still didn't want to give him any ideas about investigating their friends. "Well, we...um... figured out that all the crazy things that were happening were being caused by this being... a trickster. Kinda like a practical joker, but his jokes could kill you..."

"Yahtzee!"

Both men spun their heads around at the sound of a new voice and stared with open mouths.

"I knew there was a good reason why I like you so much, Dean... besides your style.", continued the newcomer. For there standing in the middle of the room was a man dressed in a janitor's uniform, nonchalantly munching a candy bar.