We're getting down to it now! Oh boy lol.

Thanks for reading guys, means a lot if you're still here after 12 long chapters. Work has been psychotic so I'm taking so long to upload this. I'll finish it all up soon for those that are awaiting the conclusion...

Special thanks to LoupGarouAngel, Shadow, and Windyfontaine (my wonderful Alisa) for all of your support and for leaving me sweet treats.

Loves!

--Dean--

"You sure this is all I need for a summoning Bobby?" Dean said, mentally going over the checklist again and ticking off the items with blood-soaked fingers.

"I wish you would wait until I got there. I could be there in three hours." Bobby's voice was gruff with concern, and Dean could hear him shuffling as he packed in the background.

"No, go ahead and finish your job. Sam might not have three hours," Dean sighed, in turn wishing he had the support of the older hunter. "We'll be okay."

There was a long, drawn out sigh, and the shuffling stopped. "Call me if you have any problems. Call me when you get him back."

Dean noticed Bobby had said when, not if. It gave him a small boost and he snapped the phone closed after promising to call no matter what. Bobby knew if he didn't hear from him by this time tomorrow, then he'd failed and Bobby was to come and pick up the pieces.

Pulling away from his morbid thoughts, he rechecked the circle and made sure the lines drawn were thick and unbroken. Even the smallest crack in the paint could bring unsaid disaster.

He took a bag full of sand he'd found in the corner, and poured it into a neat pile. Knowing he would need an item to represent time, he pulled out his father's pocket watch, promising to have it cleaned after this was all over, and added to the top, burying it in the soft sand. On the very top, he added a slight amount of gunpowder. He took the same summoning spell his father had used for the yellow-eyed demon and altered it a bit, making sure he called forth the Oden. He rushed through the Latin with ease while he slit his palm open, allowing a few drops of blood to land on the pile. He lit the gunpowder, and was no longer alone in the warehouse.

Simon stepped back slightly as he was pulled sideways. One minute he had been with Sam, awaiting the arrival of the other Sam with Deanna. Now he was staring at one very pissed off Dean.

"Uh…how...did I get here?" Simon asked himself slowly, continuing to back away until he hit a large wall. Turning, he was surprised to find no wall though he was sure he'd hit something solid. Taking a chance, he glanced down and noticed he was in a large circle.

"Listen carefully demon. You need to take me to my brother, and you need to do it fast. Try anything remotely funny and Satan himself won't be able to help you," Dean finished, slowly, carefully articulating his words while he wrapped a torn strip of cloth around his hand.

"Unless I bury myself in a universe so far you won't be able to find me," Simon fired back, not daring to show his fear. He lost his hold on that fear when he realized he couldn't shimmer from the circle. That meant he was trapped…

One last attempt had the demon pouring from his host's mouth. The body fell to the ground while the black cloud swarmed above, the demon's anger clear even in the featureless form. Dean watched in satisfaction as the demon hit the edge of the circle, and was repelled backwards. The demon tried once more, ramming full speed to the edge of the circle, and was knocked back with such force it actually bounced off the other side. Dean laughed humorlessly, but for once was actually enjoying the demon's distress. It was about time the demon was the one that was played with.

The demon swarmed the host, reentering the body through its slack mouth. For a moment Dean had considered pulling the human free, but he needed to talk to this demon and regrettably, the demon needed a host. The host's eyes flashed with black anger as the body quickly jumped to its feet.

"You ain't gettin' free," Dean said, snarling slightly.

"You ain't getting what you want," the demon returned, spitting the words.

With a growl, Dean took a handful of salt and threw it at the circle. The demon shrieked as the circle flashed, and fell to his knees. "I didn't think that would actually work, huh," Dean said in wonder, falling just short of humor. He couldn't seem to find anything funny about this situation.

"Let's try this again, demon. Where is my brother?"

"Which one?" Simon snapped before he could control himself. Fear and pain did horrible things to the mind he decided, but he couldn't recall the words after they'd tumbled from his lips. He'd never felt this sort of fear before. Here he was, face to face with the eldest Winchester, and all he could do was taunt him.

"Wrong answer," Dean corrected, and threw another handful. Pain once again ripped threw the demon as the circle around him shimmered when the salt hit it. "Try again. I can do this all night." The older hunter turned and gestured to a pile of salt bags behind him. "If I go handful by handful, I could last at least three days."

"I'm sure your brother doesn't have that long," Simon said, trying to bring his trump card into play. Dean wouldn't kill him, and that realization brought the demon comfort. Comfort that didn't seem to be helping as the hunter threw another generous amount of salt on the ground, eliciting a painful gasp.

"How do I know he isn't already dead? You've already killed one of my Sams. I might just decide it's too late and I might kill you anyway. Besides, I brought you here, its not like I can't get back there by myself."

Simon laughed, and studied Dean for any signs of bluffing. The panic raged full force when he couldn't find one. Damn if he didn't look downright pissed, a quiet and deadly rage simmering at the top. Simon wondered if the hunter wasn't possessed by the Devil himself.

"Damn you Marcus," he cussed under his breath.

"What was that?" Dean said, his arm poised to throw another handful of salt. "Didn't quite catch that you sniveling pile of shit."

"I'll take you there," Simon said, a bit louder. At this point, he had no choice. All he could do was to try to get free once they were in the other world, kill them all, and make sure no one could ever find him ever again.

--Sam--

Deanna insisted on clearing the warehouse, stating that Sam was still her little brother and he just needed to shut up and let big sister do her job. She knew the demon might be after him, so she'd jumped in and forced him to take up the back, watching their sixes.

"I still don't know what we're going to find," Deanna complained, shivering slightly as the warm night air flowed through the warehouse. "We haven't exorcised the demon here yet."

"Maybe by us just being here the demon will show for the exorcism you and your sister were supposed to be performing tonight," Sam answered, taking position. "It seems like the time lines are all just a little off in each world."

"You still owe me a beer if we spend the night here with nothing but spiders," Deanna shot back, shaking from another chill.

"What is up with you people and this warehouse?" Sam asked, his voice echoing through the empty building.

"What do you mean?" Deanna answered, her gaze taking in the decaying walls, the windows clouded by years of grime, and the creepy holes in the roof that allowed just the smallest bits of moonlight in.

"Deanna, we're not alone anymore," Sam said, sounding a lot closer than he had moments ago.

Deanna let her gaze continue around the building, stopping on a figure resting casually in the shadows.

"What the…" Deanna trailed off as she watched Sam step from the shadows. She would have sworn it was a mirror in the corner, if the Sam across the room had been wearing the same color shirt as the one standing next to her.

"It's the other Sam," Sam warned, pulling out his own 9mm as Deanna charged her shotgun. The horror stories told by Dean came back to him, and he knew to be on guard. "He's whacked," Sam warned quietly, hoping that would put Deanna on edge as well.

"So the demon must be close by," she simply replied, keeping her eyes wide, hoping to spot anything that moved in her peripheral vision.

"What's with all of the whispering?" the newcomer asked, smiling and bringing his own 9mm into view. "You guys shouldn't have to keep secrets from me. I am, after all, a Winchester."

"I don't like that Sam," Deanna admitted, keeping her voice low still. "He seems a few scoops short of a full cone. Hence the 'whacked' I guess."

"Yeah, he's a bit off," Sam agreed, trying to come up with a plan. He was sure this was headed for a blood bath. He was about to pitch the idea of Deanna hunting the demon while he kept himself, literally, occupied, when the anti-Sam spoke again.

"Now now, let's not waste precious time. I have places to go, brothers to be with, and people to kill."

"What do you mean?" Deanna demanded, a chill working its way up her spine.

"Well, see, the Oden promised I could have the Dean I want if I killed all of the other Sams. Really quite complicated, but he's sending me to clean up the mess made. If I kill him," Sam said, waving his handgun in Sam's direction, "then I can go back to his brother."

She raised her shotgun, and placed her finger over the trigger. "You're not going anywhere near him," she growled, aiming with deadly precision.

Anti-Sam began to laugh, a chilling sound that served to prove he might have lost it, and showed no concern for the gun. His laughing ceased suddenly as he brought up his own gun, aiming it straight at Sam.

"No offense sweetheart, but this doesn't involve you," he said to Deanna, dismissing her. "It's just between us two Winchesters."

"You're not a Winchester, and don't call me sweetheart," Deanna spat, her anger overriding everything. She needed to protect the Sam standing next to her from the Sam trying to kill him. And damnit she'd do it if it cost her own life, a statement simply made which shocked herself. Internally she rolled her eyes, deciding that she was doomed to be a big sister to any Sam she came across. Damnit.

Her attention snapped back to anti-Sam as he twitched, and the showdown was immediate as two bullets were released from their chambers. Anti-Sam pulled the trigger first, his aim a bit off and it threw Deanna to the side as she was hit, jerking her own bullet off course. It buried itself in the box right above his head, raining little slivers of wood into his hair.

"Shit!" Sam yelled as he ducked for cover, dragging Deanna with him. "Deanna?"

"I'm alright," she panted as they moved deeper into the mass of falling down and falling apart crates. "It's just a graze."

"Are you sure?" Sam demanded, pulling her into a small crack between two boxes so he could assess the damage. He was satisfied when he studied her arm, knowing she wasn't just downplaying the wound. The gash was deep, but not life threatening if he could staunch the bleeding now. He pulled of his jacket, and then removed the light tee shirt he'd been wearing over the top of a long sleeve shirt. He tore the tee shirt into strips, and quickly wrapped it around her arm, tying it tightly.

"Sam," Deanna winced as he tied the final knot, "you need to get out of here. He's going to kill you."

"He won't if I stop him here," Sam said, taking possession of Deanna's shotgun. He handed her his 9mm, not wanting to leave her without protection but knowing she had to remain hidden.

"Sammy, you can't kill him," Deanna said, trying to latch on to Sam's train of thought. She glared at the 9mm for a moment, but sighed as she decided Sam could use the gun. She shoved some rock salt shells into his hand, knowing it could disable the other Sam if they had to.

"I'm going to try not to," Sam answered. "But that doesn't mean I can't stop him."

"I've got your back," Deanna offered, slipping quietly in the shadows behind the boxes. She clearly knew this wasn't her fight, but regardless would be there for her brother until the end. Sam knew that was where her similarities with Dean ended. Where as he was willing to throw himself into the path of every oncoming bullet, Deanna was willing to step back and let Sam take the lead.

Deanna was fighting her own internal battle. Every instinct she had screamed at her to hunt the other Sam down and to finish him before he could complete what he'd been sent to do, but she realized she didn't know the Sam she was trying to protect. He looked like he had already formulated a plan, and was busy putting that plan into action. For once she was afraid she'd get in his way, so she resigned to simply having his back. Her own sister's eyes came back to her, so trusting and naïve. Her own sister would have gladly stuck behind her, willing to follow her wherever she went and whatever she had planned. It had been that way since Jesse had laughed in her face and had thrown her out.

"I'm off to find the Oden," Deanna said, knowing they still had a demon to find.

"Oh Sammy!" anti-Sam called. "I'm growing tired of looking for you! Why don't you just come out? I'll make this quick and painless, I promise."

Sam stayed silent, trying to reposition himself. He knew it would be a foolish mistake to come out of the same spot he'd gone running into. Quickly he retraced his steps into the boxes, the mental image of the layout firmly in his mind, ensuring he didn't get turned around and confused.

"I also promise I'll take care of your brother. Oh, and by that I do mean my brother."

He clenched his jaw, waiting for his alter-self to give away his position again. He didn't disappoint.

"And don't worry, I'll leave poor little Deanna alone, if you just come out," his own voice eerily yelled out at him from the southwest corner of the warehouse. Moving carefully around the boxes, Sam moved until he was so close he could hear breathing coming from the other side of the boxes. "I don't want her."

He carefully tucked the shotgun into the small of his back, hating how it stuck out but he needed his hands free. Pulling himself up, he slid his body across the top of the boxes, getting an excellent bird's eye view of the corner below him. His alter-self was just below him, checking the location of where he'd just been.

"Here goes nothing," Sam breathed, and launched himself. Anti-Sam cushioned his fall, and the unexpected attack sent the hand gun flying. The shotgun followed soon after, just out of the reach of either of them.

"Son of a-!" anti-Sam yelled out, the surprise of the sudden weight falling on top of him sent his senses reeling.

"No guns, how about a fair fight you son of a bitch!" Sam yelled, already sending his fist crashing through the other's jaw.

Anti-Sam's head snapped to the side, releasing small spots of blood to pepper the concrete as his lip split. He brought the heel of his own hand up, catching Sam just under the nose. The pain was intense, and it felt like his nose had been driven up into his skull. The blow, leaving him temporarily stunned, was enough for anti-Sam to somehow get his outstretched hand on a two-by-four, bringing it up with every intention of permanently disabling his opponent. Sam saw it at the last minute, and threw his head to the side, throwing him off of anti-Sam as the two-by-four landed a glancing blow on his shoulder.

Once they were free of each other, they both jumped to their feet. They circled, not bothering to study each other. They already knew each other inside and out, and Sam was already on edge in case the other decided to play dirty.

Now, they watched for a faulted move, an unsteady step. Finding none, they simultaneously lunged for one another.

They scrambled for a bit, each evenly matching the other's moves. Anti-Sam flew to the side as Sam tried in vain to place him in a headlock. Grabbing a fist full of molded sawdust underneath one of the support beams, anti-Sam threw it at his opponent, catching him in the eyes. Sam coughed and tried to get the bits of soggy dust out of his eyes when he was tackled to the ground. Anti-Sam immediately reared back, landing two good blows before Sam was able to push him off, landing a few good punches of his own.

They rolled away from each other, and climbed warily to their feet. They circled in defensive positions, each watching the other, slow tears of blood tracking their way down each mirrored face.

"Why are you doing this?" Sam demanded.

"Why not? I was shown a life I could have, a life I want; now I'm going after what I want."

"And you care nothing about the world ending?"

"Oh, you got that vision too? What a load of crap that was huh?"

"Is your life really so bad?" Sam asked, not letting himself become distracted.

"You spent time with poor, pitiful Dean; you know what he's like. He's a wimp, and he cries all of the time."

"Yeah, I also know that a huge reason he's like that is because of you. After only a short time of being with me I noticed a huge improvement. If you'd just have some patience with him and not treat him like crap-"

"I wouldn't have to worry about patience and how I treated him if the man had a damn back bone. Besides Sam, don't think this is personal. I'm simply going after what I want and not stopping until I get it." A viscous gleam had returned to the dark hunter's gaze, a look of pure determination and hatred replacing anything that resembled the characterization of Sam.

"Look, we can go about this all day. But in the end, you're still going to realize that you need to go back to your world, and I need to return to mine. Neither of us should be in this world."

"I'll return to my rightful world as soon as I kill one tiny problem," anti-Sam said, lunging for Sam once more.

I have to take off for...oh let's say about two weeks. Could be longer, might not be, I honestly have no clue.

Thank you for reading, and I hope you all are enjoying. I am my own worst critic. -wink-