Note: Okay, so you all wait a long time for a new chapter, and what do you get? A short one! But never fear, this chapter is choc full of special goodies. ;-) Please enjoy and remember that reviews are what makes the world go round. Or so I've been told. . . Also for those in the US of A: I hope you had a rockin' Fourth of July! - K. B.

Chapter Nine: Happy rocks and Smiley faces

Day 4: Wednesday 8:00am

The warm rays of the rising sun streamed lazily down through the morning haze, caressing the morning dew with its warmth and waking a speckled gray rock with its touch. This particular rock was special in one regard: there was absolutely nothing special about it. As was said before, it was gray and very average sized. But as with all rocks, it never really cared if it was ordinary or not. It simply enjoyed the very essence of being alive; of living in the here and now.

Rocks tend to enjoy things for the moment, basking in the pleasure it felt to wake up every morning to the warm sunrise announcing a new day, followed by the twinkling dew drops singing their songs of joy and the grass blades whistling in harmony with the lightly breezy wind blowing overhead. It was a symphony of nature that they were delighted to listen to every day.

Oh how the rocks of the meadow would feel pity for the stray pebbles and stones that were stranded helplessly in a garbage ridden city with only the honking of car horns and yelling of depressingly unhappy people as the sounds to absorb. Rocks don't have ears so they can't actually hear anything; they merely soak everything in like a sponge.

This specific rock was very excited about the coming day. Downright elated. It had a feeling that only good could come of it and that perhaps he would even feel a rainbow. Rocks also don't have eyes so naturally they can only feel the presence of things, thus hoping to feel the loving beauty only a rainbow can bring. In its entire lifetime, it had only felt a rainbow about six times.

This rock was a very happy rock. A very happy rock indeed. This rock tended to look at the good in everything and everybody. . . which is why of course it was quite shocked and slightly hurt when somebody picked it up and with a strong arm hurled it into one of the library's glass windows, shattering not only the lovely stained glass artwork but a previously optimistic rock's hopes and dreams for a better future. And so ended the life a very unmemorable rock. . .

-SUPERNATURAL-

8:01am

He hated libraries.

So when he picked up the first rock he could find and hurled it into the most ugly stained glass window he had ever seen, there was definitely a feeling of self satisfaction for a job well done.

He also hated the police. They were the idiots who never knew what to really look for. How many cases had never been solved because they refused to look past their own freakin' noses to find the truth? Too many. That's why he was here. Except this was a little more. . . personal.

Stepping quietly into the bathroom, the shadowed figure ignored the squeaking of the door and immediately began to search for what was never found. It had to be here. Things like that didn't just disappear. He moved his feet in a complicated dance to avoid leaving footprints in the still bloodstained floor below as his eyes swept the large perimeter.

Not in the stalls. . .

Not under the sinks. . .

Not beneath the- There it was.

Nestled just beneath the first right corner of a rug in front of the bathroom door lay a small brown leather wallet. Carefully, he reached down and picked it up with his thumb and index finger, basking in the momentary glee he felt at the discovery. He opened it slowly to be sure it was the item he was looking for and smiled. He was right.

"Seems I have a date at the hospital." He murmured while slipping back out the window, laughing as he looked down at his watch. "That's what happens when you open up late."

-SUPERNATURAL-

Earlier that Wednesday morning at roughly 3:06am

He lay down on the bed; a peacefulness and a feeling of content settling over him. If only he had realized it was only the calm before the storm.

Drop.

He twitched slightly as the sticky liquid fell onto his forehead but he refused to open his eyes.

Drop, drop.

Finally his eyes opened, only to widen them farther at the sight that greeted him. Pinned helplessly to the ceiling above was a beautiful blond; a bloody cut slashed across her abdomen. It was his girlfriend.

The flames burst out from her body like wings spreading to catch the wind. Her eyes were wide with panic and her mouth opened and closed to whisper two words in a silent cry: "Why Sam?"

"NO!"

"Sam! Sam wake up!"

Samuel's eyes jerked open as the nightmare faded back to the dark abyss it had come from. Sweat beaded above his eyebrows and his hair clung desperately to his forehead. Dean sat right next to him and had his hand resting lightly on his shoulder.

"Was it Jess?" The elder asked with soft concern. Despite the earlier behavior shown in favor of the waitress, Dean knew that Jessica Moore was still a very sensitive subject.

Samuel's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Yeah. How did you know. . ."

"You called for her."

"Oh, um right." The brunet's erratic breathing evened out and his heart stopped beating at its rapid pace, allowing him to calm his frayed nerves. He raised his right hand to run his fingers through his damp hair and sighed.

Dean frowned and took hold of the younger's arm. "When did you get this?"

Samuel looked down and saw that his shirt sleeve had rolled up to his elbow, revealing the dark blue detailed fire tattoo encircling his right wrist. Quickly he jerked his arm away and pushed his sleeve back down to cover it. "It was a mistake."

"It's a tattoo Sam. You don't just get those on a whim." Dean growled in frustration. "Now quit shitting with me. Why did you get it?"

Samuel bit the inside of his bottom lip and hesitated before answering. "There was this girl."

Dean sat there waiting for more but nothing came. "Jessica?"

"No." Samuel said bitterly. "It wasn't Jess."

"Then who was it?" 'Stop being so damn cryptic!'

"None of you damn business!"

Dean cringed at the annoyed tone, knowing the Sam was trying to end the questions, but was too angry himself to give a shit. "I say it is! Stop acting like you've got some horrible past you need to keep secret and start getting over it!"

"You don't know anything about me!" Samuel practically seethed with fury.

"You're damn right I don't! How can I when you don't tell me any freakin' thing?!"

"You're such a bastard!"

"Oh, so that's an excuse now?" Dean taunted angrily.

"Shut the hell up!" Neither Dean nor Samuel saw the soft glow emanating from his tattoo.

Dean wasn't going to let his little brother try to intimidate him. "Not till you start talking. Besides, it's not my fault you can't seem to hang on to your women." Oh shit, he must still be suffering the effects of all the alcohol he had that night.

(Their idea of 'hanging' turned out to be playing pool, poker, and drinking late into the night at the local bar. Had Dean been thinking more clearly, he might have noticed how strange it was that Sam was beating him and everyone at everything. . .)

"I said shut the fuck up!" Dean didn't even have enough time to flinch as Samuel threw himself off the bed and tackled him to the ground, his hands moving together to tighten around the blond's throat. He ignored the cut off cries that the elder was making under his grasp as he watched Dean struggle underneath him. "Stop acting like you know me." He hissed into the 'brother's' ear.

"S. . . Sam. . . my!" Dean's voice scraped out in a panicked rasp.

"Don't call me that!" Samuel thundered angrily, unconsciously squeezing his hands tighter; crushing down on the hunter's windpipe, eliciting a hurt gasp from Dean.

The air was quickly escaping from the elder's lungs and black spots were dancing before his eyes. He wasn't sure when everything went wrong, but he did know that wherever that invisible line was, he had taken one too many steps across it. The last thing he saw before falling into the welcome blackness was Sam's raging eyes glaring down at him in undisguised hatred; it scared the living shit out of him.

Samuel watched as Dean fell limp underneath him but was powerless to stop himself from holding onto the now bruised throat for an extra few seconds. With a sharp exhale, he released Dean and stood towering above him. It wasn't supposed to be like this. . . Who was he kidding? Of course it was supposed to be like this. It was why he had come. But now? Dean had found his injuries and treated them, pestered him with questions because he cared. . . He had driven with him, eaten with him, talked to him, drank with him, beat him at poker and pool. . . He was his brother.

Envious visions crept through his thoughts. Jealous that this was not the world he had been born into. If he had. . .

His lips twisted into a smile. Why not? It's not like the other 'Sam' was here. Samuel began to make plans in his head. Sure. He could stay. He could do this. Live the life he had always wanted but never had. Let 'Sammy' pick up the broken pieces he left behind. Why not? Dean wouldn't know the difference.

Samuel looked down, remembering that he had just deprived the elder of air until he fell unconscious.

Yeah, he might need to think up some kind of an apology for that one.

-SUPERNATURAL-

7:30am

Samuel had been awake for hours; unable to sleep after the fight he had with Dean earlier; plus, he had a plan he had to carry out. If he expected this to work, there were going to have to be a lot of changes. A little after he had decided what course of action to take, the dark brunet made a run to Wal-Mart to grab (shoplift of course) all the needed items.

At about 5:00 he had returned to find that Dean was still thankfully sprawled out unconscious on the floor, allowing him to put his design into effect. Dumping the contents from the average sized plastic bag with a giant, generally annoying smile printed on the front, Samuel breathed a sigh of relief that he hadn't forgotten anything. It was all there: coverage makeup, men's hair color, and the two most important things ever invented. He prayed that this was one of those things that this and the 'other' Dean had in common.

Now it was 7:31 and everything was in place. All that remained was for Dean to wake up.

-SUPERNATURAL-

9:11am

The first thing Dean felt as he surfaced back to consciousness was pain.

The first thing he thought was: 'Why am I in pain?'

The first thing he saw was Sam sitting hunched over on the bed across from him.

The first thing he said was: "What the HELL did you do that for?!"

Samuel jumped from where he was sitting and rushed over to the now awake Dean and took hold of his shoulder while smiling excitedly. "Thank God you're awake! I was getting worried."

Dean laughed mirthlessly. "Oh yeah? Was that before or after you thought my neck was your stress ball?"

Samuel shook his head. "Honestly man, you think I would really do that to you?"

"Well you did shoot me once."

'Well, that's something I should remember for later.' Samuel thought with some interest. 'What would the 'other' Sam say?' Uh. "Come on, we've been over this already. I'm sorry about that. It wasn't. . . me." Huh, apparently the truth really can set you free.

"Alright. Then who was that trying to strangle me just then?"

"I know this is going to sound strange in a long line of strange, but you need to promise that you'll hear me out."

"Oh come on. What are you going to tell me that I haven't already heard of or gone up against? Skinwalker? Been there. Shapeshifter? Done that. Possessed? I think I would have noticed before you jumped me. Plus, I already 'Christoed' you." Dean shuddered at that last one. Separate entities were one thing, but possession was on a whole different level.

'Hm, they've gone up against more than I thought.' The brunet thought with slight surprise. "No. It's a little different than any of that."

"You going to tell me today princess, or should I find a pillow so you can try to do me in again without leaving incriminating marks?" Pissed would have been a pretty pitiful description of how Dean felt right then. How about betrayal? Or hurt? Pain? Confusion? Any of those emotions ringing a bell?

"Stop it Dean! You know I wouldn't do that!"

"You could have fooled me!"

"That wasn't me!"

"Then who the hell was it Sam?! 'Cause it sure as hell wasn't your non-existent evil twin!"

Samuel fell silent and began to bite the inside of his lip.

Dean's eyebrows shot up. "Really?"

"Not exactly." Samuel took in a deep breath and counted to ten. This was it. Dean needed to know. He just hoped that the elder would understand. "Dean. What do you know about doppelgängers?"

-SUPERNATURAL-

Ending Author Notes: Okay, short chapter. I just hope you got a satisfactory fix. (Sorry if it seemed weird or out of place. It was really late when I wrote it)

Extra note: I swear, I have never thought about rocks that much until now. Douglas Adams is my inspiration.

Extra, extra note: So what is Samuel's plan? Who exactly is the man with the eyepatch? What is his beef with Samuel Winchester? What happens to Sam now that he thinks he's Dean? Will Dean ever find out that Samuel isn't Sammy? Not even I know. (Okay, I do. I just want to sound more dramatic) Lol. Next chapter should be longer and hopefully more revealing. Thanks for sticking with me on this.

Your freakishly random writer friend - Kerri