Author's Note: Thank you all for reviewing! I don't own Dean, Sammy, Supernatural, or any of the other characters.

"Who?" Sam asked impatiently. Dean shifted uncomfortably as he gazed at the figure in the warehouse. "Dean, who?"

The warehouse was big compared to the rest of the stores, but still fairly small. Its ceiling was high and dark, the lights glowing on the walls barely reaching its tiles. Covering the sides of the warehouse were dusty boxes and various items. Smaller boxes had been placed in random places through the center, making it like a small maze. And right near the door laid some kind of dream Dean. The fake Dean had a bloody gash on his face, and blood freely spilled out of onto the floor. Dean picked up his shoe to find sticky blood covering it. The fake Dean was dead.

"Me."

"Dean, what are you talking about?"

"Me," Dean repeated. He quickly told Sam what he had seen. "You gotta face me next. Not me. Like, the uh, fake me." There was a silence at the other end. Sam knew this was coming--as much as they both would like to pretend it wasn't.

"I guess so. Maybe we should meet back up?" Sam suggested, instantly changing the subject. Giving the fake Dean a last look, he left the warehouse and began the walk back to the front of the strange town.

"Sounds good." Dean sprinted the rest of the way, than examined the distance. He could just make out the outline of the graveyard's front gate. "Let's meet in the graveyard."

"Yeah . . . and Dean?"

"What?"

"We don't have much time left, do we?"

"Stop talking and start walking.

"Stop it; just tell me what's going on."

"Yeah, Sam, we don't have a lot of time, okay?"

"Thanks." There was another awkward silence before Sam hung up.

Sam sighed and put the cell phone back in his pocket; and walked over to the graveyard. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he waited. Nothing happened for another ten minutes. And then--

--and then there was the sharp sound of a gun going off, followed by gasping. Sam turned to see Dean sprawled out on the grass with blood streaming away from him.

"No!" Sam screamed. He rushed over, kneeling besides Dean. It took him a moment to realize this couldn't be Dean. But still, the sight of Dean dieing on the ground sent shivers down his spine. Slowly, Sam stood and stepped back.

"Freak," Dean muttered. Again, Sam turned to see Dean standing there. But this time it was the real Dean, standing by the gate.

"Dean!" Sam raced over, and then stopped awkwardly. Dean's eyes drifted over the figure lying on the ground. He walked over and gave the fake Dean a kick.

"There's something you don't see every day," Dean murmured. He turned back to Sam, who despite himself had a small smile on his face.

"Is that it?" Sam asked. "Is that all I had to face." Dean considered.

"No. There's more," he answered confidently. Oh-kay...Sam found himself thinking. Dean began to walk away from the front gate, following the forest. "This is where you found our old house, right? This way?" Sam nodded. Dean stopped and peered down the trail surrounded by tall trees.

"There were some other houses near it. You think we should there?" Dean gave a half shrug as a response, but be began down the trail. Sam rushed to keep up. "So what do we do after I face, uh, dream you?" Again, Dean considered.

"Let's take it one step at a time," Dean suggested. Sam pressed his lips together and nodded. It was the best they could do, at the time, not look at the future or past. Stick to the present.

"I think we should speed up. You did say that we don't have a lot of time left," Sam reminded him.

"What are you talking about? We have tons of time. This thing works slowly," Dean corrected him. Didn't Dean say they were running out of time? Sam had listened so carefully to his response.

Yeah, Sam, we don't have a lot of time, okay?

Dean had at first walked to the graveyard, but as he got closer, closer to the end of his long trip, he found himself running. Run, run, run. Every time his foot pounded down onto the ground he heard words. Run. Time. Life. Death.

Sam.

When he finally got to the graveyard's gate, no one was there. Don't panic, Dean assured himself. Give Sammy some time.

And Dean did give Sam some time. 10 minutes of time. But still he didn't show.

Calm down, Dean thought urgently. There could be more than one graveyard. Maybe you're in the wrong one. No, this looks familiar. This is the one. So maybe Sam's the one who found the wrong place. Just pick up your cell and call him.

Dean flipped open his cell phone and pressed speed dial to call Sam, only to be greeted by the words NO SERVICE and the fast sound of a small beep. Examining the area, Dean spotted something lying on the floor next to a grave. The ground was stained with sticky blood-identical to the blood still sticking to Dean's sneaker. So, fake Dean had been there.

Fake Dean would only appear if someone was there to see him. If I didn't see the fake me, then Sam must have. Sam must have been here. And Sam wouldn't just leave; he knows the dead me is a trick. I told him.

Dean wasn't sure how he knew. Call it a guess. Call it crazy. But Dean somehow knew.

The only way Sam would leave was if Dean was with him.

So Sam must have thought Dean was with him when he left.

So Sam had seen a fake Dean, and thought it was real Dean?

Shit, Dean thought.

So Sam had left with a fake Dean, thinking it was really Dean?

Author's Note: There you have it! PLEASE REVIEW! Love you all lots. Until next time.