I just reposted this chapter because I realized I'd left something in there that wasn't supposed to be there. I'm sure it made the ending seem just a little more confusing than normal. Sorry bout that!

Arrrrgh, writer's block is the worst. I'm in my 'tying up key pieces before I move on to the major story' zone, and for some reason that's the worst for me. So, hopefully this isn't too bad. Next chapter will get into the nitty gritty of why Dean's here and how he'll get back. This also leads me to a point where I want some reader suggestions. I'm just curious to know how many people want him to stay here versus how many want him to go back. So let me know, so I have a better idea where I should head. Hope you enjoy!

Despite having the farthest to come, Sam was the first at the door, having sprinted down from his room and physically jumped over the stair rail the minute he heard the crash. But his parents weren't far behind, and Sam was just gripping the doorknob when they arrived. Panic escalated when, from inside the room, they could hear Dean's frustrated cries. "This is crap! Absolute piece of crap."

Another crash followed and Sam glanced questioningly at his parents as he turned the knob. "Dean? You alright there?" Swinging the door wide Sam and his parents could finally see the cause of the crash. After an initial assessment that assured them Dean was OK, they had no choice but to laugh.

Dean looked up sheepishly from amidst the scattered mess of CD's that he'd tossed angrily onto the floor. For the second time that day his newly trademarked "hi guys," shot innocently from his mouth and, blushing, Dean set the remaining CD's he held back onto the table. But there was no hiding the mess he had already created. At least half the CD's lay strewn around him on the floor, blocking him in. Several were cracked where he'd already rolled over them in his fervor.

"Dean, what the hell, man?" Sam demanded, crouching down to pick up some of the salvageable discs.

"They're all crap," Dean spat out, grabbing another stack of the discs and flashing them dramatically in front of his brother's eyes, then lifting them higher so his parents could see too. "Greenday? he questioned in disgust, tossing the disc aside. "Fall Out Boy?" he added, discarding it as well. "Eminem?"

"What's your point?" The confusion in Sam's face wasn't an act, and their parents had responded the same way as Sam. "They're all yours. We brought your whole entertainment system from your apartment."

"Well he– I sure had terrible taste in music. Where's my Metalica? ACDC?"

Sam shook his head apologetically, crossing his arms as he did so.

"The Eagles?" Dean pleaded pathetically. "Don't I have anything even remotely out of that generation?"

"I think you might have a Madonna CD in there somewhere," Sam teased. "Like a Virgin."

Rolling his eyes, Dean pushed forward, plastic cracking loudly as his wheels crushed the many cases still littering the wood floor. "Not even close. Come on Sam, we've got some shopping to do. I can't think without my music." Dean halted, having passed his brother and now finding himself face to face with two still very shocked parents.

"Who are you?" John Winchester asked in a hushed voice, studying his oldest son with exaggerated curiosity. "And what have you done with my son?"

Shit. Shitshitshit. What do I say? He'll never believe the truth. Hell, I don't even know if I believe the truth.

He couldn't help but chuckle at Dean's 'deer caught in the headlight' gaze, but Dean was saved from his panic when his father continued to speak. "Do you have any idea how worried we were about you? And here you are, acting as if nothing happened. You're not reacting at all like the psychiatrists told us you would. And you're sure as hell not reacting the way your mother and I thought you would."

"Oh, that," Dean replied, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly. "I don't know. I guess I'm just happy to be alive." Or maybe I have bigger things on my mind. Like where I am. And how do I get back to where I'm from. Besides, I'll be damned if I let you people see me cry. I'll worry about myself, thank you very much.

Whether they believed him or not, the parents mercifully decided to let the conversation slide, and gave both Dean and Sam passage from the den. "You're going out then?" their mother asked.

Dean nodded. "Gotta get some decent music. That stuff sucks."

Heading purposefully toward the front of the house, Dean didn't notice when their mother caught Sam by the collar of his shirt and pulled him back. "Keep an eye on him," she ordered. "I don't think he's in his right mind."

You have no idea. Sam grimaced at her; the best he could do under the circumstances. "Don't worry Mom. I'll take care of him." He sprinted off to catch up with Dean.

"Get the keys, dork," Dean ordered, struggling with the front door.

"I've already got them," Sam announced, jingling his key chain in front of Dean's face.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Not your keys, Sammy-boy. My keys."

Sam gaped incredulously at Dean, taking the time to study him intently. "Dean, you've never let me drive your car. Ever."

"Yeah, and I wouldn't be starting now except I'd rather let you drive my car then me pop a shoulder out of joint trying to get into your torture trap again. So I'm gonna suck it up for now."

"But Sam," Dean added, anxiously watching his too eager brother pocket his keys. "If you get even one tiny little scratch on my car..."

Interrupting his threat, Sam groaned loudly, giving his brother a playful shove out the front door. "Dean, I'm not gonna hurt your precious little car," he mocked.

The garage door hadn't even opened entirely before Dean was racing through the opening towards his long missed Impala, for once grateful for the wheelchair because it meant needing less of an opening to get through. Forgetting entirely that Sam was even there, Dean flung himself at the car, inspecting every inch as he purred and cooed at her. "Daddy's home, baby. I'm never leaving you again." He had to give credit where credit was due. Sam and their father had taken exceptional care of the car. It actually looked even better than it did in his world. Of course, this world didn't have monsters and demons lurking around every corner, ready to throw the nearest cold body against his baby, denting her up. "You waxed it?"

"Couple times," Sam assured him, coming up behind Dean to unlock the door. "And we washed it once a week, even though it never left the garage. Dad didn't want you thinking we'd neglected the car."

"Thanks." Dean didn't know what else to say. More and more he was beginning to feel as though he had misjudged this world's parents. For all intents and purposes they were virtually perfect. A far cry from what he'd actually grown up with.

Sam's pursed his lips, humbly accepting Dean's gratitude. He didn't like the idea of being thanked for something he'd done so willingly. "You would have done the same for me. Now are we going or not?"

"We're going," Dean assured him, sliding his butt carefully across the seat of the wheelchair and into the passenger seat. "But we're not getting music. We're meeting Laura. She's at some restaurant... Griswalds, I think she said."

The wheelchair was carefully folded and placed in the back seat of the car as Sam nodded. "Yeah, I know the place. Local hangout. We used to go there all the time." Sam paused, realization hitting him. "Did you plan that whole thing just to get out of the house?"

A sly smirk played on Dean's face as Sam climbed into the driver's seat. "Well you sure are quick," Dean teased. "Nothing gets past you. I called Laura after I woke up. I knew she'd be frantic when she found out I'd left the hospital."

Eyeing Dean with concern, Sam gripped the steering wheel more tightly. "Dean, you do remember that this isn't the same Laura that you were seeing in your dimension. She doesn't have your memories."

Puffing out his chest, Dean exuded confidence. "Don't worry, little brother. I've got the Winchester charm. She may not have those memories, but we'll create new ones."

"And then what," Sam demanded, slamming the brakes a little too hard at a red light, and throwing Dean forward against his seatbelt. "What are you going to do when you figure this whole mess out? Are you just going to go back to your world as if you'd never been here? Just forget about us? Will my Dean return just as confused as you are now? What the hell is going to happen!"

Dean was silent, unbidden tears welling in his eyes. "I don't know," he whispered, voice hoarse as he fought the lump forming in his throat. "I wish I had the answers to this, but I just don't know."

Sam persisted. "But if you leave, our Dean will return in your place, right? I mean, he's not just gonna disappear from our lives completely. Right?"

"Sam, I said I don't know!" Dean snapped, smacking his hand against the dashboard and making the younger boy jump. But guilt overcame him. Poor kid. He didn't ask for any of this. This isn't my Sam. I have to keep reminding myself of that. He's not used to all this stuff. I should consider myself lucky that he's even giving me the time of day as crazy as all this must sound. "Hey Sam, I'm sorry," Dean said more gently. "I didn't mean to snap at you. I just...I don't know what's gotten into me."

"You don't have to explain," Sam monotoned, eyes straight ahead on the road. "I'm sorry I pushed." I just don't understand what's going on. Let me in, Dean. I want to help! I just don't know if I want you to go until I know what will happen when you're gone. I don't want there to be no Dean. I couldn't take it. I'd rather there be this Dean, rather than no Dean at all. "We're here."

"Sam." The pleading tone in Dean's voice was unmistakable, but Sam wasn't ready to hear him out. "SAM!"

Instead of giving him a response, Sam silently pulled the chair from the back of the car and opened it, leaving it just within Dean's reach before stalking off. "Sam, please," Dean tried again. "I'm sorry!"

By now, Laura had realized the boys were outside and she appeared in the doorway of the little restaurant, smiling from ear to ear. Her smile quickly faded as she watched Sam storming off down the sidewalk, away from Dean and the restaurant. "What's with him?" she asked innocently, offering her assistance with the car door.

"What isn't with him," Dean replied, bitterness heavy in his voice. But then he sighed. "I said some things that he took the wrong way. Or maybe he took them the right way. I don't know."

"Do you want me to go after him?" she offered.

Dean shook his head. "Nah. He'll come to his senses sooner or later. He just needs some time to cool off." He shoved forward, heading towards the door and cocking his head with a seductive 'come hither' nod. "Besides, maybe after we talk I'll have more answers for him when he shows up."

Laura held the door for him and led him back to a private table in the back corner of the restaurant. Dean followed, finally realizing what Sam had gone through that day when he'd dragged him out to lunch. The first obstacle he ran into was the strap of a ladies purse, and he silently cursed her as he struggled to disentangle the unusually long strap from the wheel of the chair. Bitch. Keep your damn stuff out of my freakin way! But he pursed his lips, still bottling his emotions. It would be bad enough if Sam saw him upset, but Laura? He had his work cut out just to romance her again. Won't this be a trip, trying to win the same girl twice. But I'm up for the challenge.

"Dean, I gotta tell you. This whole thing, about different dimensions, I'm still having a hard time grasping it. I mean...everything fits, so if you're crazy then I must be too, but it's still hard to believe."

He'd watched her sit across from him, clasping her hands together and resting her chin on top of them. She regarded him with a mixture of curiosity, concern and some fascination. Dean chuckled. "Sweetheart, as crazy as this may seem, I guarantee you this is all real."

And then she opened the door Dean had been hoping for and dreading all at the same time. "So tell me how you and I knew each other in your ...world."

Dean grinned, and began the story. He gave her all the details of how he and Sam had come to town to hunt the Weston House stalker, told her about killing the brain creature and her part in it. He told her about Sam getting hurt, and how she'd been there for the two of them through it all. He told her how she'd been the first girl he'd ever told about his hunting, and that he'd known she was the girl for him when she accepted it without flinching. He told her she'd been his rock. And when he was finished explaining their relationship Laura was staring at him with a starry-eyed gaze.

"Do you mind if I ask you a question," she cooed, reaching for one of his shaking hands. She continued when he nodded, bashfully averting her eyes. "Do you, um...do you think you might like to pick up where you and she– I left off?"

It was all he could do to keep his jaw from dropping to the table. This was way too easy. There's got to be a catch. He could barely squeak out an answer, but finally a stunned 'uh huh' emitted from his slackened mouth. Oh yeah, he gloated to himself. Even in a wheelchair you've still got it. Dude, you rock. "I mean yes," he added, finally finding his voice. Maybe this world wouldn't be so bad to stay in after all.