A/N: Thank for taking this short journey with me and I hope you like it. Sam finds his normal life is anything but that and doesn't know how it happened or what to do. Only two chapters to go and this short one will be over. I do like reviews. NC

Chapter 2

It took Sam longer than he expected to find the motel again and sighed with relief when he saw the sign shining brightly in the darkness of the night. He walked through the parking lot and around the back to the room they were staying in. The place didn't look any better in the dark, in fact it looked worse. Dark shadows were in every corner and it felt like something was watching him as he hurried to his room.

Sam stopped at their door and knocked, waiting for Dean to let him in. After a couple of minutes, he knocked again, louder this time, thinking Dean had probably gone to sleep. The door was suddenly jerked open by a man Sam did not know, making him stumble backwards in surprise and shock. Sam looked him over and knew he had never seen the man before.

"Who the hell are you, asshole?" the stranger yelled, staring angerly at Sam. "Do you know what time it is?"

Sam looked at the room number again to be sure he had the right room before looking back at the angry man.

"I-I-I…Don't understand…My brother…" Sam stammered trying to make sense of this. He had left Dean in this room and knew he would not leave without finding him, besides, Dean didn't have a car yet. He knew Dad was going to give him the Impala soon when he got another vehicle. So, Dean would be on foot and he didn't like walking anywhere if he could help it and he would have to lug their duffels around too.

"You got the wrong room, now bug off!" The stranger slammed the door in Sam's face before he could ask or say anything else.

Sam wiped his eyes and looked around, knowing he had the right motel and the right room, but where was Dean? He walked back into the parking lot and to the front of the motel. He looked up and down the street trying to decide what to do when a horn beeped at him. Sam looked up as an old beat up tan, truck pulled up beside him.

"Where the hell have you been shithead?" Dean asked him in a menacing, deep, voice.

"Dean?" Sam asked with shock. "Where did you get the truck and why did you leave the motel? I thought we were staying there until Dad got back?"

"What are you talking about? Get back from where and what screwed up world are you living in anyway? We don't stay at motels, it's too expensive. You know Dad will be mad at you for being late for dinner. Get in the truck, now!"

Sam walked around the truck and tried to open the door. He had to jerk hard on it and it squeaked open so he could climb inside. The floorboard was littered with trash and there was a tear in the upholstery of the seat. Sam couldn't believe Dean would be caught dead driving something like this. He stayed quiet when he sensed Dean's mood, not wanting to make it worse. Something was wrong about this entire picture but Sam wasn't sure what it was.

The truck drove across town and on to a gravel road before pulling up a driveway to a small clapboard house. Sam couldn't see much in the dark, except what the headlights revealed. The place needed a paint job, shutters were missing off one window, and what yard there was needed mowing. Two trashcans sat to the side of the house that was overflowing with trash bags.

"Well, are you coming dumbass?" Dean growled as he got out and walked toward the small porch.

Sam got out slowly and followed Dean to the door and waited as he unlocked it to go inside. He wrinkled his nose when the smell of beer, old cooking odors, and stale air hit him in the face. He looked around the room seeing it was a living room with ratty, used furniture crammed in it. Dean had disappeared down a short hall and into a room that he figured was a bedroom.

A coughing from the couch drew his attention to it and stared openly when his father stood up and glared at him. He had on some type of uniform that was wrinkled and needed washing. His hair was longer and poorly cut and he had a beard. He had a beer in one hand and took a long swallow of it. John was working on a beer belly that hung over his belt and being out of shape didn't even describe how he looked. Sam's mouth hung open as he stared at him in disbelief. This was his father, but it wasn't.

"You know what time it is boy?" he demanded in a gruff, loud voice. "You should have been home hours ago." He stepped closer and cuffed his ear making it sting. "I oughtta tan yer hide for disobeying me."

Sam clamped his mouth shut and tried to swallow to wet his dry throat. He tried to speak but only got out a gurgling sound that couldn't be understood.

"What's the matter with ya? Go on get; dinner's by the microwave, but you'll have to heat it again." He sat back down on the couch and focused his attention on the old model television that had a grainy screen to watch some random program.

Sam looked to the side and saw the small kitchen and walked that way in a trance, since he couldn't comprehend what was happening to him. Maybe he was dreaming all this? He saw a small table and three chairs sitting around it and a microwave and coffee pot sitting on the counter by the sink that was full of dirty dishes. Sam saw something sitting by the microwave and walked closer to see it was a tv dinner and a very cheap one. He picked it up and peeled back the top to see blobs of something that didn't look anything like real food. He grimaced in disgust and sat it back down to look around for anything else that might be eatable.

Deciding maybe something to drink would be enough, Sam opened the fridge to find mostly beer, a couple of sodas, condiments, something that seemed to be growing in a bowl, a container of take Chinese food, stick of butter, and not much else. There was no milk, juice, cheese, fruit, or anything he would have thought should be in there. He closed the door and finally spotted a pack of crackers on the counter and decided it was better than nothing. He found a glass and filled it with water before going to the table and sitting down. The meager meal wasn't much but would have to do for now.

Sam's mind was racing as he tried to figure out what was going on with him. Did he get hurt and was in a coma in some hospital? Was he asleep dreaming all this? Did a monster find him and cause all this? There were so many unanswered questions rolling around it his head, it made it start hurting. He rubbed his tired eyes after he ate the crackers and washed them down with water. Not knowing what else to do, Sam wandered down the hall and saw the bathroom at the end and on either side were bedrooms.

The bathroom was nasty as he looked around at the rusty tub, stained commode, and leaky sink. He stepped to the sink and looked at the toothbrushes, trying to decide which one was his. Taking a chance, it was the one in a plastic glass, he turned on the water and let it run for a few seconds before filling the glass. The toothpaste tube was almost empty, but he managed to get enough out to brush his teeth. Once that was done, he relieved himself and washed his face and hands.

With nothing else to do, Sam stepped into the bedroom he shared with his brother. He saw bunkbeds against one wall and Dean was splayed out on the bottom one looking at a girlie magazine. There was a desk and chair sitting under the window that had schoolbooks on it, two dressers, and a scattering of clothes thrown around the room. He saw a laundry basket in a corner that looked like it had clothes, his size in it.

Sam paused long enough to take a better look at Dean. He had a sour look on his face that was pudgy, and his body was flabby and, on its way, to being fat. His hair was longer and unkept and he needed to shave. He didn't have the tone, lean muscles of a trained hunter like he did when Sam left the motel room. He had on ragged sweats and one sock had a hole in it that his large toe was sticking out of. There were overalls tossed beside the bed like someone would wear working as a mechanic or in a factory. What was happening to him, Sam wondered? Had he somehow been transported to another reality? Did a witch cast a spell on him?

"What are you looking at runt?" Dean growled at him as he looked over the magazine.

"Dean does Dad ever hunt?" Sam asked cautiously.

"Yeah, once, he went deer hunting with a couple of guys, but all they did was get drunk and nearly shot each other," Dean scoffed and laughed.

Taking another chance, Sam asked another question.

"What happened to Mom?"

Before Sam could react, Dean was off the bunk and slammed him into the wall by the bed hard enough to make him see stars for a moment.

"Don't you ever mention her again shithead!" Dean screamed at him as he got in his face. "You're the reason she's dead. If you hadn't been born, she would still be alive!" He shook Sam hard before letting him go and threw himself back on his bed to continue looking at the magazine.

Sam staggered when Dean let him go and rubbed the back of his head, unsure of what to do. He didn't understand what Dean meant by what he said and knew better than to ask for more information. Figuring the top bunk was his, Sam used the ladder at the end of the bed to climb up to the top bed. He crawled onto the mattress and laid down on top of the covers so he could calm down and think. Before he knew it, he had drifted off to sleep still in his regular clothes.

spn

Strange noises woke Sam from his sleep, and he lay there trying to figure out what it was. He listened closer and realized the sounds were coming from the bed below him. Dean was jacking off and not being quiet about it. He grimaced in disgust and wrapped his skinny pillow around his head to try and not hear.

"Oh yeah, come on, come on," Dean moaned loudly. "That's it, yes!" he sighed as he came on the sheet.

Sam could hear his panting and grunting no matter what he did, but he didn't want to get up and leave. He was afraid of what Dean might do, as a seed of doubt filtered into his mind.

"Hey shithead," Dean grunted as he slammed a foot into the bottom of Sam's bed making him jump. "Did you do your chores before coming to bed. You know Dad will take a belt to your sorry ass if you didn't."

"What chores?" Sam asked before he could stop himself. He lay there stiff and scared waiting to see what Dean would do.

"Honestly, what is wrong with you? Did you have a brain fart or something?" Dean asked, getting up and glaring at him. "You need to take the trash out and wash the dishes. Man, the school said you were smart, but you sure seem dumb to me. I'm taking a shower." He ambled out of the bedroom and into the bathroom closing the door behind him.

Sam lay there for a moment before getting up and climbing down the ladder. He snuck into the kitchen, looking toward the living room to see his Dad passed out on the couch. Deciding to do the dishes first, he looked under the sink for dish washing liquid and hopefully maybe some rubber gloves. He found one of the two.

After stacking the dishes beside the sink, Sam ran some water and added the liquid. He sat part of the dishes into the sink and washed them, trying to be sure they were clean. He repeated the step until all the dishes were washed and stacked in the strainer by the sink. With that done, he looked to the trashcan and opened it, gagging at the smell that wafted from it. He pulled the bag from the can and added the tv dinner he didn't eat before closing it and going out a side door in the room. He sat the bag by the larger trashcan since it was full.

With that done, Sam went back inside and washed his hands before going back to the bedroom. He looked in one dresser for his clothes but found Dean's. He moved to the smaller of the two and opened a drawer and found some sweats to change into deciding the T-shirt he had on would be okay to sleep in. After he changed into sweats, Sam climbed the ladder and got back in bed just as Dean sauntered back into the room naked. Sam quickly adverted his eyes, listening to Dean open drawers and finally collapse on the lower bunk with a loud sight. It took him a while to get back to sleep, hoping when morning came things would be back the way they were. This was not what he thought normal would be and he was not liking it.