TEN

Thank You Sir, Please Come Again

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"Dean?" Larissa called nervously. Two heads turned and looked at her. "That one," she said, pointing at the shaggy-haired version currently taking pieces of torn up sheet from Christopher, in between anxiously checking the face of his prone brother.

"What is it, sweetheart? I'm a little busy here!"

"Yes, I can see that," she allowed. "I have one question."

"What?" Shaggy Dean used a small square to wipe blood from his brother's face. Sam grunted at the touch, and Christopher pulled Dean's hand away.

"He must have some small pieces of glass in there," he advised.

"I don't care about those pieces - what about the shitload of blood coming from the back of his head?" shaggy Dean demanded.

"Give me that," Christopher instructed. He began to carefully soak up the tiny drops of blood from the Winchester's skin, turning his head to try to check for embedded glass.

"Dean, what was the name of the demon?" Larissa pressed. "Did you get his name?"

"Do I look like a give a shit!" he shouted over his shoulder. "My brother's dying here and you want me to think about something that wants you dead? Why should I care what happens to you?"

"Dean - look, I'm sorry about Sam, I really am," Larissa said earnestly, beginning to walk over to the shaggy-haired Winchester kneeling on the floor.

He turned and flung an arm out, pointing at her.

"This is all your fault! If you hadn't brought us to this fucked up version of the world none of this would have happened!"

"I know, I--"

"Don't you come near me, or so help me I will fuckin' kill you, Christopher or no Christopher!" he raged.

She froze, then turned as she felt shaggy-haired Sam's hand in the crook of her elbow. He pulled her back with him, retreating to the window and his brother. He looked at the Dean in the FBI suit, noticing the anger, or perhaps adrenaline, on his face.

"X-5," short-haired Dean called clearly.

Shaggy Dean simply bent over his brother, his hand going under his neck as he muttered to him, pushing Christopher away. "C'mon, Sam, c'mon," he pleaded. He felt at the pulse, knew it was becoming weaker and weaker.

"Dean!" short-haired Dean ordered. "We could be sitting ducks here. Did you get the damn name or didn't you?"

"Yeah, I got it," shaggy Dean glowered through clenched teeth, looking back over his shoulder at the room. The two FBI-suited Winchesters watched his face turn from a warning to a promise. "His name's Urobach. And as soon as I've summoned his sorry ass, I'm gonna tear him a new one before I fuckin' carve him into pieces!"

Shaggy-haired Sam pushed his brother back and walked over to the other two Winchesters. He crouched next to the Dean currently fretting over his brother.

"Dean," he said quietly. "We can do this, we can summon this Urobach and bring him here. But we need you to help us."

"I am not letting my brother die again," Dean bit out.

Sam looked down at the man who seemed identical to himself, save the hair awash with streaming blood. He looked back at the bearded version of Dean, opening his mouth to say something, anything that might convey how sorry he was.

"Get away from me, man," Dean growled, but his voice was thick with worry, not anger, this time.

Sam got up quickly, retreating to his brother.

"How bad is it?" FBI Dean breathed, nearly a whisper. Sam shook his head ominously. "Damn it," FBI Dean hissed, turning to the window. "Great. That's just friggin' great."

"No no no no," shaggy Dean grunted suddenly, grabbing his brother's shirtfront. "Sam, c'mon, man! Don't do this! Don't you die on me again!"

Christopher, Larissa, Sam and Dean. They looked around slowly, fearing what they might see.

What they got was scruffy Dean, his arm around a limp, blood-covered Sam. His other hand was supporting his head, but Sam's eyes were closed. Dean squeezed his eyes and mouth closed very, very tightly, his face as stone. He opened his eyes after a moment, steady and calm.

Sam's eyes fluttered. Dean sucked in a breath that told tales of withheld tears, swallowing them and managing an edgy smile, more fragile than butterfly's wings.

"Hey bro," he whispered. He kept Sam's head up and his bleary eyes on him. "You stay with me, this time. Ok?"

Sam's face twitched. His eyes sank closed. His features slackened until Dean shifted his hand, touching where there should have been a pulse in his brother's neck.

It was feeble. It feathered into nothing, leaving him sat on his knees with a dead brother in his arms.

"I did it again," he whispered. "I let you die again."

The two Winchesters in their fake FBI suits refused to look at each other. They studied the carpet for a long moment.

Shaggy Dean gulped in a silent breath, letting his lifeless brother back to the carpet. He got up abruptly, wiping his face with the back of a shaking hand, inadvertently smearing blood over his cheek. He managed to breathe out but it brought a grunt of effort that belied the mostly hidden tears.

He whirled around suddenly, his crazed eyes boring into Larissa.

"You," he snarled, pointing at her. "You can undo this. If you can save Christopher, you can bring Sam back."

"I can't--"

"Do it, bitch!" he raged, advancing on her.

"Dean - please - listen to me--"

But shaggy-haired Dean ploughed toward her. He was caught by the arms as something black shot into his line of attack. He looked up to see himself in an FBI suit gripping his upper arms tightly.

"Leave her," short-haired Dean ordered.

"Lemme go!" shaggy Dean seethed at top volume, struggling. "Let me go! She did this! She killed my brother!"

Short-haired Dean managed to keep the other him steady and upright. It was impossible not to look into the tortured eyes, screaming at him to help, to understand, to fix it somehow.

"Easy, man, easy," short-haired Dean urged. "I know how you feel, really I do--"

"Then get the fuck off me!" his bearded copy raged, but he could not co-ordinate himself enough to think of a way to get free of the organised Winchester. "I'll kill her! I swear--"

"Hey! Hey!" Dean shouted into his face. "We are not killing her yet! We need her to bring Sam back, right? Right?" he shouted. "Listen to me!" he hurled, struggling to keep the fighting man in his grasp. "Hey! You calm the Hell down and listen! We need her to bring Sam back! She can bring - Sam - back!"

Shaggy Dean slowed, his struggling become weaker and weaker.

"If you kill her, she can't help us. And Christopher dies too," FBI Dean pressed.

"I don't care," shaggy Dean whispered, his strength apparently gone. "I don't care about her, or any of you. I just want Sam back."

FBI Dean looked over his twin's shoulder at the still form of the man who looked like his own brother. He took a deep breath, looking back at his double.

"I'm gonna let you go now. You are not going to harm Larissa. You get me?" he said sharply.

"Whatever, man," bearded Dean managed.

Dean nodded, releasing his arms and taking a step back. Scruffy Dean didn't look at him, instead keeping his eyes on the carpet. He backed up one, wiping a hand across his nose and controlling trembling limbs.

FBI Dean turned to Larissa, who was still staring at them both as if they were about to leap on her with large charmed blades.

"So," FBI Dean announced. "Do your thing. Make a deal with X-5 here and bring his Sam back."

Larissa swallowed and composed herself. "I can't."

Shaggy Sam took a step closer to her, his head tilting in mistrust. "You can't?" he demanded. "And we were just starting to think perhaps a half-demon could tell the truth."

"I am telling the truth! I can't make deals with Sam or Dean - those two," she said quietly. "Not here. They have to be at home. They have to be in their own world. This isn't theirs. I can't make deals with them."

"Now is a real crappy time to be following the rules," FBI Dean put in harshly.

"Please," said a quiet voice, and they turned to look at bearded Dean. He was staring at the carpet, his eyes wide. "Please. Just bring him back. I'll do whatever you want. I'll pay whatever you want. Just bring him back."

"I can't."

"You can. It's just that you won't," he observed calmly, looking up with a slowness born of resignation. He fixed his glassy, tearing eyes on her. A tear escaped his left eye, sliding down his face until it encountered the smear of his brother's blood. It ran across the top edge and down, disappearing in the bristles below. "You can't make deals that don't demand a price, but you do. You can't cross over into other worlds and bring people back, but you do. So do this. Please. I'm begging you," he added, his voice quiet, calm, collected. It dropped to a whisper: "Please."

Larissa's eyes, full of water and anguish, stayed caught in his, unable to tear away from the pain so clearly written in his green windows. But she shook her head slowly.

There was a long silence. Shaggy Sam looked around the room, finding Christopher and for some reason, latching onto him. He realised it was better than looking at either man who appeared to be his brother. Christopher rubbed a hand over his lips, squeezing his eyes shut determinedly. Sam didn't blame him.

"You can't make a deal with him," FBI Dean said quietly, "but you can with me."

Scruffy Dean looked at him sharply, dashing water from his face. "What?" he dared.

FBI Dean didn't look at him. Instead he turned on Larissa with an air of cold confidence. "You can make a deal with me," he repeated.

"I shouldn't--"

"You brought him here," short-haired Dean interrupted loudly, "you did this all for Sam, you said. Well now you've killed Sam - that Sam. He's dead, and it's all because of you. You know what annoys the Hell out of me?" FBI Dean demanded, walking closer as he pointed at her vindictively. "It's that you thought you were doing all this to piss off your demon family. Well congratulations, drama queen, cos they're just having the biggest laugh over you getting one of your little projects ganked. This Urobach must be splitting his sides over this one. Talk about giving someone enough rope!"

"Why do you want him back?" she countered bravely. "Tell me the truth."

"He's not my brother. Hell, I don't even like him - if you ask me, he's a dick. But he's still Sam. And we need him if we got any chance of killing this Urobach. You understand that, right?" he sneered.

She wet her lips slowly, looking past him to the other Dean, currently watching her, holding his breath. She looked back at Dean in his fake FBI suit.

"You will bring Sam back. For me," he warned.

"For you? I could do a lot of things," she managed, hoping she sounded more blasé than she felt.

"That better be a yes," Dean growled.

"Yes, it is. I'll bring Alternate Universe Sam back, and it'll be your wish."

"What's the price?" shaggy Sam asked suddenly.

"It's not a contract, there is no price. But I'll take a personal gratuity for granting a wish - demons get them for contracts, I want one," she smiled slyly.

"Do it," Dean instructed. She closed on him but he put his hand up. "Sam first."

"Why Dean," she pouted, "you don't trust anyone, do you?"

"Especially not demons or their half-breed daughters."

"Fine," she huffed. She turned and waved a hand in the direction of the fallen Sam. His eyes blinked open, his scruffy brother hurrying over to land on his knees on the carpet by his side.

"Hey dude, just wait a second," he gasped. "Slowly."

Larissa turned to Dean. "Well?"

He didn't hesitate. He put his hand in her hair. She grabbed the lapels on his FBI suit, yanking him against her and kissing him with enthusiasm.

Shaggy Dean helped his brother to sit up slowly, Christopher patting the worried shoulder. Shaggy Sam watched the man who looked like him glance around the room as if he hadn't just died and come back - for the second time. Shaggy Sam looked back at his own brother.

FBI Dean was pushing Larissa back abruptly, but she was grinning as she licked a lip.

"Wow. If I'd known you were that good I would have offered you a wish or two long ago."

Dean eyed her suspiciously. "Considering it was Violation By Half-Demon Tongue, it could have been worse."

"Freebie?" she requested, stroking the lapel under her fingers. She felt the Winchester lean on her for a long moment. She aimed herself at his mouth but he lifted his chin deliberately.

"If you were all human," he sneered.

She pouted and let him go with a slight push. He wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand before looking over at the short-haired Sam. He still seemed to be covered in blood but it appeared dried. Scruffy Dean was helping him to his feet, dusting his brother down as if he were five years old.

"Quit it," short-haired Sam said irritably, pushing him away. He looked up and around the room, noticing everyone staring at him. "What? What did I miss?"

"You died. Again," his brother began solemnly, but then his face split into the widest grin of relief anyone in the room had ever seen. "But you're better now."

Short-haired Sam frowned at him, then looked over at the others. "So are we finding this demon guy and toasting him?"

"Are we ever," shaggy Sam breathed. "We need to find out how to find this guy."

"We won't need to," bearded Dean said, pre-occupied, as he pulled Sam's jacket straight, arranging his shirt neatly for him. He patted the outsides of his shoulders and stepped back to inspect his resurrected brother.

"Um, why's that?" Christopher asked, back in control of his voice.

"We just dangle the half-breed here outside of some salt. He'll find her," shaggy Dean replied with an evil grin.

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Thanks for reading! I do my victory dance every time I get a review - thanks for your time and patience. :)