Chapter 1

Crossed Boundaries

Lisbon, Ohio

The wind hissed through the leaves of the trees clawing out of the ground next to the dilapidated birchwood house with an eery quietude. Shadows, thrown across the night-covered lawn by the picket fence encroaching the estate, shrunk centimeter by centimeter as the moon climbed the blackened sky. A single light glowed from a window on the ground floor of the house. The rest of the building slumbered with as much darkness as the night around it.

Inside the lit room, repeated thumps of fist-upon-reinforced-leather broke the unnatural hush as an average-sized twenty-one year old man struck his punching bag, dark brown hair appearing almost black from sweat. In tune with each punch, he let out a puff of breath. He wore a yellow Nike workout shirt and breathable black pants, as well as white-and-red sports sneakers over comfortable sports socks. His blue eyes gleamed with energy as he practiced. His knuckles throbbed red. He drew back and gave a massive uppercut to the bag, wincing and pulling his fist back. He shook it a few times, cringing.

"Yowch!" he yelped, sucking on his knuckles. "Fuck, that one hurt."

He shook his hand again as if to try and fling the pain away. Grimacing, he shrugged to himself and straightened out. Maybe it was time to quit for the night. He needed a shower, and a glance at the watch over his creamy skin told him it was 11.

He yawned, then nodded and moved over to the light switch. His hand reached out to touch it... and he froze as he glanced up at the bulb in the fan. It flickered on and off erratically. The young man groaned and his arm fell to his side.

"Ah, seriously?" he whined, dragging his hand across his face as his eyes rolled. "I swear Mom just got Matt to fix that damn thing." He sighed and flipped the switch off, grumbling to himself as he walked out into the living room of his family's house, out of the exercise room. His eyes took a moment to adjust to the darkness, then he easily made his way up the steps to his second floor bathroom.

He took his clothes off and put them in the hamper by the bathroom door, then stepped into the shower and turned on the warm water. He sighed in relief as it cascaded down around him, enjoying the sensation of it soothing his muscles. Two minutes in, however, the shower sputtered, then momentarily stopped before turning back on and repeating. The young man paused and raised an eyebrow in disbelief.

"You're kidding," he complained, an exasperated chuckle escaping his lips. "First the downstairs light, now the shower curtain? Mom is gonna go nuts." He frowned deeply and tapped the shower head a few times, humming in confusion as, without warrant, it began spraying a steady stream again.

Odd.

He settled the shower head with a lingering stare, then shrugged and finished up washing. Now done, he got out and dried off with the towel hanging on a rack on the opposite wall, hung it back up, and went to his bedroom. Clothes lay strewn across the floor, and his desk, shoved up under the eastern window, had his HP Envy open on it. His eyes flicked to it, and he grinned. He had time for a couple more episodes of Supernatural before bed.

He went to his closet and pulled on some clothes, including some loose sweatpants and an old nightshirt. He yawned before stepping across the mass of clothes on his floor to sit in his swivel chair, stretching and powering on the desk lamp that cast warm, orange light, as well as the laptop. It showed his user profile - Evan Kripke - before turning on. After he pulled up the Netflix app, he kicked back and relaxed as he continued his quarantine rewatch of one of his favorite live-action shows.

Time flew by. Evan grew increasingly more excited as the action in each episode kept building up, and increasingly more exhausted as the clock approached one in the morning. Suddenly, however, the twenty-one year old cursed; both his desk lamp and computer were spazzing out.

"Okay, what the hell?" Evan murmured, growing worried now. Computer screens don't just randomly turn on and off and the computers themselves don't just start making random, garbled noises.

The air in the room grew heavier, thicker. Evan groaned in pain as a splitting headache like an ax murderer chopping through his skull split his brain open. He howled and bent over, clutching at his heart. He could feel the organ lumping in full-blown panic mode. What was going on!? What was happening to him!? He was too young and healthy for a heart attack!

A strong blast of wind picked up, papers flying off of Evan's desk and billowing about the room. Books lifted up from the bookshelf next to his dresser, both pieces of furniture rattling and trembling. The floorboards creaked and groaned as they shook. Bedlam touched down as a tornado of books and paper caused a cacophony of flapping. Evan screamed as the pain in his head grew worse and worse, and suddenly, he had a sinking feeling of weightlessness, his stomach dropping to the Earth's core. His eyes widened as a dark glow sprung up beneath him, and then all he knew was the sensation of falling - falling and a vise-like squeezing all around his body, as though someone had taken him and decided to push his fully grown body through the eye of a needle.

Pain exploded in every inch of his body, and with a final scream, he lost consciousness.

"Damn that Gordon!" Dean Winchester cursed, shaking his head and slapping his pillow furiously. His face carried a few bruises still from the enemy Hunter's heavy punches. "I still can't believe he actually tried to kill those vamps."

"Yeah, well, at least we saved them, Dean," Sam, definitely looking worse for the wear in comparison to his older brother, pointed out with a shrug.

Dean glared darkly. "I killed one of them, Sam. I have innocent blood on my hands, and it's that bastard Gordon's fault."

Sam opened his mouth, then closed it and sighed. "Look, you didn't know it was innocent at the time. How could we have predicted there'd be vamps that didn't suck people dry? I could hardly believe it until they let me go, myself."

"...Whatever." The square-jawed, broad-shouldered older brother sighed and stretched on the bed of the motel they were staying at. It was a rinkydink motel on the corner of Indiana. The room sported red honeycomb wallpaper and a tan carpet, with two desks furnished each with a cabinet of drawers, a chair, and a lamp. A green throw rug lay spread out across the floor, and the room had its own bathroom. As far as motel rooms went, it was actually one of the nicer rooms they'd been in. Dean, relaxing on the bed, sent Sam, who sat at one of the desks reading through some reports, a pointed look. "Any info on the demon?"

"Nope." Sam popped the p. "I've been keeping an eye out, but I haven't found anything." He clicked to the next page on his screen and read the text in the online published paper. "Huh... that's... Hey, Dean. I think I might have found us a case."

Dean stiffened. "A case? What, it's not just some... I dunno, some whacko nutjob, is it?"

Sam raised a brow as he looked over his shoulder. "Well, it could be. Buuut it's kind of odd that four different people, without any records whatsoever, have shown up claiming to have come from another universe as they died, with all but one of their bodies squeezed and wrung like a mop. And even her body was in pretty bad shape. Four deaths, four appearances, all within the same week, and all with the same story."

His brother blinked. "Well. Either they're all on some kind of next-level magic mushrooms having the same hallucination..."

"Or we've got a new case," Sam finished, working his jaw.

A curt nod followed the response. "Okay. So where are we headed?"

Just over five hours hours later saw them cruising down State Route 30 towards Lisbon, Dean wearing a huge grin as he sang along to Bon Jovi's Living on a Prayer. Sam rolled his eyes as he stared out the window, watching the rolling Appalachian hills shoot past them through the window. "We're more than just halfway there, Dean," he quipped with a small smirk. "We're actually about three minutes away from the center of town. Six minutes away from this bar here..." He squinted at the directions he'd written down. "Says its name is Pondi's. We might be able to find some information there."

The elder paused in his singing to nod at him. "Great, how do we get there?" Dean asked, crossing a bridge that hung over Little Beaver Creek and slowing to thirty miles per hour. The first houses of the main town came into view after they drove up another hill. They'd already passed a few residential areas, but they weren't part of the main city.

"Keep heading straight past the Juvenile Court-"

"Yeah, yeah, it's just up ahead there," Dean muttered, eyes flicking over to the large complex and raising a brow.

"And through the town square past the courthouse, heading straight through the intersections until you get to the steel mill. Then take a right, cross the bridge, and it'll be on your left." Having finished reading the directions, the tall young Hunter folded up the paper he'd written them on and stuck it in his pocket.

"Great, thanks, Sammy."

The nickname earned him a huff, but Dean just grinned. It was fun teasing his little brother.

"It's Sam." Idle fingers drummed on Baby's door in fond annoyance.

"Sammy."

Sam's lips pursed, and he glared without any real bite. "Jerk."

"Bitch," Dean shot back easily. Despite their teasing, Dean followed the directions perfectly while replacing Bon Jovi with a Dio casette. Sam just give a friendly sigh, shaking his head. "So, people claiming they came from another universe," he started, blinking. "You think that kind of thing's possible? I mean, there's all kinds of different theories about the multiverse, right?"

"Don't tell me you believe in that stuff, Dean?" Sam stared at him. "You don't believe in God or anything, right?"

Dean shrugged. "Hey, I'm the one asking you if it's possible. You went to college, not me. You'd know better."

A pause held between them, then the younger of the Winchesters shrugged. "Well, there's at least some small amount of scientific basis for it. Nothing solid, of course, but there's all kinds of different theories. More like hypotheses, really." He hummed in thought. "There's always the wormhole idea; it's like a... like a tunnel between two different universes, or sometimes between two different points in spacetime within the same universe."

Dean raised a brow. "A tunnel between two different universes?"

"Yeah. For a long time, scientists have conjectured that a strong enough black hole could possibly create a wormhole." Sam shrugged as he talked, tapping his chin. "The problem there is, theoretically, the kinds of black holes that we could create here on Earth without, you know, destroying the entire planet wouldn't be anywhere near stable enough to do any sort of testing on, even if we had the technology. They'd break down almost instantaneously."

Slowly, his older brother nodded in thought. "Right, right... All of that big sciency stuff just goes right over my head."

Sam snorted and gave a chuckle. "In any case, there's lots of different theories about that kind of thing. Some scientists believe that the Big Bang could have produced tons of different universes with every possibility imaginable. Like, there could be one where-"

"Mom never died," Dean cut him off quietly.

Sam gazed at him sadly. "...R-Right. Or one where you went to college, not me."

Dean snorted. "Yeah, no, that's not possible."

"The concept of multiple worlds also appears in some mythologies," Sam continued, completely in his element. "In the Appanaka Jataka, for instance, it says that 'Nowhere in all the infinite worlds that stretch right and left, is there the equal, much less superior, of a Buddha,' and in Hinduism's Bhagavata Purana, it says there are innumerable universes moving about like atoms. And it's all over New Age stuff."

"God, you're a nerd. Alright, alright," Dean thought aloud, nodding his head. "So, we could be looking at some kinda, I dunno, Hindu shit?"

Hazel eyes blinked. "...We could be."

While they'd been talking, they pulled into the bar's parking lot and came to a rumbling stop. Dean killed the ignition and took out the key. The two brothers piled out of the car and shut the doors, a beep from the fob indicating Dean had locked the car. "Well, whatever we're looking at," the Hunter began, walking swiftly towards the bar and winking at a a couple girls that were walking out of it (causing Sam to groan), "it's killing people, and we need to stop it."

The first door emerged to a waiting room with a couple of chairs and a black rug, and the second door led to the actual bar. They sat at the bar stools and Dean shot a friendly smile at the bartender. "Hey man, what's your best drink?"

The bartender, washing a jug with a rag, thought about that for a moment. "People really like my cosmopolitans," he offered.

"Nah, too sweet for me. I'll take an El Sol if you have it."

"You're in luck," the bartender, a big guy with some pretty good meat on his bones, told him, grabbing a bottle, cracking it open, and handing it to Dean. "We got more in the other day. Knock yourself out."

"Thanks, man!" Dean's voice was greatful as he took a swig. "Ah, that's the stuff."

"I'll just take a water, thanks," Sam informed the bartender. While the man poured his drink, he glanced around the bar, frowning. "That's odd. This place is a little empty for a bar on Sunday evening, don't you think?" Other than an elderly woman and her husband in the more restaurant-themed area of the joint, as well as a man with a beard talking to a girl with a country vest and plaid shirt, Dean and Sam, the waitress, the chefs in the kitchen, and the men tending to the bar were the only ones there.

"Yeah, well, all those incidents cropping up in town has everyone on their toes," the bartender replied. He gave Sam his drink with a nod, then slid them each a menu.

"Incidents?" Dean repeated, playing unaware. He glanced at Sam, then back at the bartender. He took another swig. "What kind of incidents?"

The man paused. "You guys must be new around here, everyone and their brother knows what's been going on. Over the past couple weeks, we've had some people show up saying they came from another universe. That they woke up and their houses weren't there, or were replaced with another house. That they don't recognize anyone, and the papers say it's a different year. Then, they just drop dead because their bodies look like they were made of rubber and stretched too thin. All except one woman... and I could've sworn she looked just like Old Man Rob's granddaughter, but she's in Iraq. Rob called her, and she's still there in Iraq."

Sam and Dean exchanged a glance. "Weird," Dean offered.

The bartender snorted. "You're telling me. This town has had its fair share of coke addicts, but nothing like this."

"Alright, well, anyway you could tell me where Old Man Rob lives?" Dean asked, reaching into his pocket and pulling his wallet out, flashing his fake Drake Wilde FBI badge. Their bartender stared, glancing up at them. "We just need to ask him a few questions, corroborate the claims with first-hand sources. You know how it is."

The man was obviously startled. "FBI?" He glanced at Sam, then at Dean. "...Uh, s-sure, sure."

"Did that story sound strange to you?" Dean asked Sam while they headed to the Columbiana County Coroner. They had decided to stop by there first to check out the victim's bodies before heading to Rob's home, since they already had filed an appointment a few hours ago.

The taller Winchester snorted and yawned a little. Man, he needed to get better sleep. "What part, Dean? The people appearing out of nowhere?" His lips quirked, and Dean knew he was just teasing. "Yeah, I know. That last bit wasn't mentioned in the papers. Looks like whatever's going on, someone's got a doppelganger."

"Please tell me it's not another skinwalker," the driver groaned, lightly bumping his forehead against Baby's wheel in frustration. "I really don't need another police search on me, and I really don't want other... things in my head. I swear, that whole downloading memory thing they do is downright freaky." He shuddered and winced. "In any case, seems like if it is alternate universes where these people are coming from, things are a little different in their world. And it sounds like they might not all be from the same universe, either. That last case sounded like she came from a universe a lot more similar to ours, while the other three sounded like they came from really different universes."

"That's true," Sam agreed, furrowing his brow. "So maybe whatever's pulling these people across universes doesn't have a strong connection the other universes, and instead, the strong connection's just to this one?"

"Or maybe if it's some kinda weirdo monster freak that's doing it, it's taking from separate universes to minimize suspicion."

"Yeah, but what kinda creature has the power to reach across universes?" Sam wondered. "That'd take some huge energy."

"I dunno." Dean stared out into the backseat of the Chevy ahead of them. "Whatever's going on in this town, though, it's something we've never seen before. And I don't like it."

They arrived at the coroner and parked, entering and approaching the counter. Sam, who'd been approaching first, flashed his fake FBI badge and nodded at the woman behind the counter. "Hello, ma'am, I'm Agent Trisden and this is Agent Wilde. We're here to see the victim's bodies?"

Soon, they had the coroner out to help guide them to the corpse freezer, and they pulled the four corpses out of the drawers they were being studied in. "I'm surprised it took this long for the FBI to catch wind of this," the coroner said, shaking his head with a raised eyebrow. "Let me tell ya what, I've never seen anything like these corpses. Their bodies are just twisted so... unnatural."

Sam and Dean stepped up to examine the bodies, shuddering a bit at the smell. Yuck. "That smells even worse than they usually do, God," Dean cursed, rubbing his nose.

"I've been smelling them for years, and it stunned even me," the coroner agreed. "Weird, aren't they?"

Sam nodded, frowning deeply as his eyes took in the horribly stretched bodies... except for one female body that only looked partially stretched. "Yeah. Real weird."

"You notice anything different about the bodies?" Dean asked, taking a glance at them, furrowing his brow, and glancing back up. "Besides the, you know. Stretching."

"No, sir, agents, no missing bones, organs, arteries, anything," the man told them. He sighed and put his hands up in confusion. "Everything is there... though their organs looked like they'd been compressed really badly. There was a lot of internal bleeding. There's something else too, though I'm sure you know it already; wherever they showed up, the grass beneath them had grew black and died. Also, they all happened in the evening. About six o'clock, a day's gap between each other. The last appearance was the day before yesterday."

"Huh, six o'clock..." the older Winchester considered. "That's in fifteen minutes. Huh. Well, anyway, you got the locations where they... for lack of a better idea, arrived?"

The coroner nodded, digging into his pocket and handing them a map. "Here you go. We marked it out on that map."

"Well, thank you for your time," Sam said with a respectful shake of the man's hand after taking the map, "but we really must be going."

"Busy day ahead of us," Dean agreed.

"Whatever happened to them, I hope you can find the answer," the coroner said, shutting the drawers.

They left the building and went out to go get into the car. Dean revved up the engine, which turned over, and they puttered out onto the street to the tune of Holy Diver. "Their bodies certainly sound like what I'd expect from someone crossing universes," Sam admitted, shaking his head in disgust. "Man, I can't believe they had to be alive to feel their bodies in that state for some small time."

"Yeah, nobody deserves to feel the kind of pain they must've," Dean concurred darkly. "I'll tell ya what, if it's some creature, spirit, or demon, doing this, it's not gonna like what I do to it whenever we find it."

Sam, who had been staring at the map and drawing on it, raised an eyebrow. "Hey, Dean, get this. I noticed something about about the locations of the appearances, and drew some lines connecting them. They make a Devil's Trap with one point missing. And the coroner said that there's been four cases, with a day's gap between each other, at six o'clock."

Dean stared at him, then cursed. "Shit! Ol' Robby's gonna have to wait. We need to head to that missing spot now! Where is it, Sam!?"

"Turn right, Dean!"

Tires screeched and Sam sputtered while his brother hit the gas, speeding up. With five minutes to spare, they arrived at a house right at the spot Sam had marked. It looked really old, like no one had been living in it for years. The door hung open, creaking in the breeze. Dean hit the breaks and killed the ignition. They quickly got out, grabbed some weapons - silver bullets and knives, machetes, anything - and, guns drawn, snuck up onto the front porch over the long-frayed welcome mat. Silently, they snuck in, keeping their weapons at the ready in case they needed to shoot something. Sam's heart beat, while Dean sucked in a cautious breath.

"Hello? Anybody home?" Sam called out carefully, eyes flicking around the place. They listened carefully.

"Nada," Dean muttered. "Alright, alright, you check down here, I'll head upstairs."

They split up, each headed where they had decided. Four minutes later, they met again. Both shook their heads, having found no one, and Dean opened his mouth to curse... only to blink. "Whoa. Does it feel heavy in here, or is it just me?"

His brother paused, staring at him oddly. "What are you-?" He winced as the air grew noticeably heavier. "Yeah, what the hell-?" Even as he asked, the floor boards slowly started shaking, the doors rattling on their hinges. A wind crept up, gaining speed exponentially. Soon, it ripped dusty old books off of rotting bookshelves. Dean cursed.

"Is it a poltergeist!?" Dean demanded, switching out the loaded silver bullets in his gun for salt rounds.

They clutched onto their guns desperately, eyes swiveling quickly around the place, looking for something to shoot.

Then, just as suddenly as the chaos began, it stopped, and there was a thump echoing from the upstairs bedroom. The brothers exchanged glances, then burst up the stairs, taking them two at time. Dean kicked the door open, gun pointing in, only to freeze as they saw the body on the ground. It was a young man, probably still in college, in night clothes. He had windswept brown hair and his eyes were closed. He lay unresponsive on the floorboards.

"Another appearance," Sam guessed, quickly kneeling down and pressing two fingers to the boy's neck to take his pulse. "He's still alive, just unconscious."

"And his body's not all stretched out," Dean observed, frowning. "Who the hell knows about his insides, though."

Sam gently patted his cheek, and the boy stirred, eyes opening. "What the..." he muttered, rubbing his eyes and glancing around. "What happened to my room? It looks nothing like it did... And who the hell are...?" The boy froze and did a double take as he glanced up at them. "What the hell!? Jared Padelecki!? Jensen Ackles?" he stared at Sam and blinked. "Your hair is so short... And you guys look so young..."

Dean blinked rapidly and gazed at Sam, raising his brows. Sam just stared back, like, Hey, don't look at me, I don't know what he's talking about anymore than you do.

"Uhhh... no, you must have us confused for someone else." Dean stared at the kid, concerned. "Hey, you feel okay?"

"I mean..." The boy patted himself down, blinking and standing up. "Yeah, I feel fine, why?"

"Don't feel hot inside, no pain in your organs?" Sam offered.

"No, none."

"Huh," Dean murmured, slowly gazing back at Sam.

Sam returned the gaze, dumbfounded. "Huh."

"W-What is it... whyyyyy do you guys have guns pointed at me?" the boy asked.

"Maybe you can answer a few questions for us," Dean retorted, pointing the gun at him. "Who are you, and are you aware you are currently in Lisbon, Ohio, in the year 2006?"

"2006...?" The boy blinked and laughed awkwardly, flicking between the two. "This... this is a joke, right? I must've won some kind of... some kind of Supernatural contest or something and you guys are playing a joke on me, right? Because, uh, Sam and Dean are just characters, you know that, right?" His eyes flicked awkwardly from Dean to Sam, skin getting goosebumps. "It's just fake-"

Dean pointed at the window behind him and shot it, causing the boy to jump a mile. "Does that look fake to you?" Glaring now, he tapped the gun directly against the boy's forehead, holding it between his eyes. "Now tell us! How the hell did you know our names just now!? Do you work for Yellow-Eyes? Did Yellow-Eyes cause all these... whatever the hell they are!?"

The boy stared in shock, spluttering out, "Whoa, whoa, whoa, this is crazy, this is crazy!" He quickly held up his hands, and Dean's heart skipped a beat; the motion had almost made him think the newcomer was about to attack him. "Okay, okay, c-calm down, please calm down! My name's just Evan, Evan Kripke, I'm a normal kid and I don't know what happened!" Evan's eyes flicked to Sam, practically begging the guy to help him out here. "Please tell the big, scary guy with the gun to lower it, please!?" His voice broke as his arms, still held up in a sign of peace, trembled.

Sam glanced back at Dean. "Uh, Dean, I think he's telling the truth."

"He knew our names!" Dean barked. "Tell me how you knew them!"

"Uh... shit, shit, this can't be real..." He stared at them with a wince. "I, uh... don't know if you'll believe this, but I think I come from a different universe, and in my universe you guys' lives are a show called Supernatural. And neither of you exist in my world. You're played by two actors."

Sam's mouth went in an 'o' shape. That explained things. "...Hence why you called us Jensen Ackles and Jared Padalecki," he muttered slowly, staring at Dean and quirking his lips.

Dean swallowed and stared at Evan. "You're kidding. Our lives are some shitty TV show? And people like our lives!?"

Evan looked a little offended. "It's actually a pretty good show -"

"Okay, I'm going to need some proof." Dean lowered the gun and put the safety back on, folding his arms.

Evan furrowed his brow in thought. "Uh," he said intelligently, "I still can't really believe this is happening... but, uh, okay, sure, this is a dream. Yeah." He straightened up and shrugged. "Your mom used to tell you angels are watching over you?"

Dean's jaw dropped. He stared at Sam.

"The multiverse is frickin' weird, man. And I really don't like it."

Sam just snorted at that. Then he nodded at Dean. "Let's test him."

"Test me?" Evan repeated, paling a little. "Wait, you don't mean?"

Dean pulled out his silver knife and grabbed Evan's arm. The boy instinctively jerked back, eyes going wide as dinner plates as the knife dragged across his arm, slicing a shallow cut open. "Ow!" he complained, then blinked indignantly as Sam splashed some holy water on him. The brothers stared; no effect.

"Cristo," Sam said. Evan didn't flinch, just frowned.

"I told you, I'm just a normal human!"

"...Well, I'll be damned," Dean said at last, shaking his head.

"Literally," Evan muttered under the corner of his breath. He gave a ginger rub to the very shallow cut on his hand.

"Evan," Sam said carefully, keeping his voice even, "I think you might need to come with us. If you watched a show about us..."

"Then you know the future," Dean finished in awe, blinking. "Which means you could help us find and kill Yellow-Eyes. Plus, something might have tried to bring you over here to use that knowledge for itself, so you'll be safer with us."

Evan glanced warily between them, still gingerly rubbing his arm; that cut had certainly felt like he wasn't dreaming. "Do... do I get a say in this?"

"No," they both said at the same time. Dean added, "Out of curiosity, what time did you say you were from?"

"Uh... 2020."

"...Well, I'll be damned," Dean said again.

Author's Note

Well, that Quarantine Boredom has resulted in... this madness. Let's see where we head from here, shall we?

I'll be writing this off and on in between Animal Crossing, work, and dicking around. So yeah. That's that, I guess. Reviews are always appreciated.

And no, Evan won't have a gay relationship with the Winchesters. Just saying that right now.