Brothers are Forever

by InzanityFirez

PostS6. Castiel is the new 'God', Sam's got a few screws loose, Dean's on the losing end of 'stable', and Bobby's just trying to keep them together. But the fate of the world rests in their hands and Death has a plan that could save Castiel, or end him.

8. A Supernatural Wonderland

So I finally finished S6. I would have written this a bit differently, had I known what I know now, but nothing too drastic-I think. XD And don't worry, Death isn't out of the picture. He's too cool. XD By the by, this first bit of the chapter was meant to have been on the end of the last one. Or something. Anyway- THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE REVIEWS. And for those of you who just bother to read, I adore that as well. XD Thank you all. AND CAS HAD BETTER GET REDEEMED! Or [I] fangirls will cry. XD

By the way, I wasn't gonna have a rabbit-house scene. But it was requested by a lovelytastic reviewer, so I came up with an on-the-fly bit about it. And the chocolate is given through questionable means but Dean wasn't gonna make the same mistake twice so...there. XD This is a really long chapter. My longest ever. XD I should probably have just screwed the two/three parts plan and just split it up. XD *smacks head*

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Hollow. That was the best way to describe it. And yet, the worst. It was like one trying to describe the sensation of sleeping. How do you describe something that is so integral to your being, and yet, so far from your most basic stream of consciousness? On the one hand, there seemed to be a deficiency of emotional capability that far exceeded what was recognized previously. On the other, there was a bitter, raw taste that could only be described as utterly, painfully, and undeniably human. And if hollow was the word to use, then such humanity could not exist. A paradox.

And then there was Death.

Above the shattered screams and the rank stench of mottled flesh and cinders, there was an eerie calm. The still winds of Death. And in that staid arena, everything had been lost. Years of work for naught, lives come to an end for nothing, any life saved previously had been rendered obsolete and meaningless. Because they had failed, and the fallen prodigal son had succeeded.

The soul who pondered this stood before the ruined waste, stood before the end, and found only a detached sense of loss compounded upon by the implicit knowledge everything, including it's purpose, had been stolen away.

"You bring the term 'fallen' to a whole new light, you realize?"

The soul turned. "You've come to collect me, and yet, how can you collect what doesn't exist?" it laughed then, hollowly, because then perhaps, that was the right word. Just for then.

There was no answer forthcoming from Death who regarded the broken soul, if one could call it that, before him. "I am not here to necessarily collect you."

"Pardon?"

"I am here to offer you a proposition."

"You...want to make a deal...with me? What could you possibly want from me?" Another laugh, more of a choke, really. "It's already over now. Everyone is dead." and more quietly- "He's dead."

"He doesn't have to be."

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"It went this way!" Dean's footsteps pounded the forest floor, followed close behind by Sam.

"Dean, are you sure you saw-"

"It was wearing a jacket!"

The white rabbit. The one that ran in front of their car the night prior. Apparently it was here, and wearing a jacket, according to Dean.

Sam was inclined to think his brother had, at the very least, had a trick of the eyes played on him. But considering all the strange things he'd seen, he could give his brother the benefit of the doubt. And then there it was, a flash of white, the crunch of a twig, and...a rabbit, in a miniature jacket.

The rabbit stopped suddenly and seemed to disappear and as Dean and Sam approached, they noted a little hole.

"Sneaky bastard." Dean muttered as he peered down at the hole. "What do you think it was?"

"Maybe it was someone's idea of a joke?"

"Who the Hell would think a rabbit in a jacket's funny?"

"If you have a better theory, I'm all ears."

Dean shook his head mildly as if exasperated before he picked up a stick and prodded the hole a bit, and then stuck it down the hole as he tried to test it's depth. "Freakin' rabbit..." he muttered and he was about ready to abandon his little test when he felt the ground shift a bit beneath him. Next thing he knew, he was falling, and fast.

"Dean!"

Sam's voice was above him as he hurtled down into the darkness, and Sam found himself not far behind.

...

Flames. Flames bursting over his skin. His blood boiling. Eyes roasting in their sockets. A soundless scream. Hell, this was Hell, this was agony, this was torment, this was pain, this was-

"Sam! Sammy, damn you, wake up!" Dean's voice broke through Sam's haze as his eyes fluttered open and he felt as though the wind had been knocked out of him.

"Dean..?" he wheezed.

"Son of a bitch." Dean whispered as he stared down at Sam before he pulled the other up into a sitting position. "You alright?"

Sam managed a nod and he swallowed hard, that metallic taste in his mouth again. He met his brother's worried gaze a moment before he noted their surroundings. "Uh, Dean...where are we?"

It appeared to be a cave of some kind and above them was a long tunnel upwards, further than light could be seen although he was certain that up was where they'd fallen from. There was a black-and-white checkered pattern on the floor, and furniture sticking out from the walls. Spirals and other squiggling adornments were around the room and in the middle, a table with two beers and a pie.

"Good question. Don't have an answer. We fell through a hole, ended up here, and you were unconscious." And not breathing, but Dean didn't feel the need to mention that. Or the way he'd felt like his own heart had stopped with his sudden onset of anxiety. Sam's condition terrified him in a profound way, but he couldn't let the other know. He just had to keep Sam safe, that was all that mattered.

Dean rose and pulled Sam up alongside of him. There was a small door in the corner, but there was no way in Hell that they'd fit through it. Didn't appear to be any other exits either. With a frown, he made his way over to the table where a little 'drink me' sign was set by the beer, and an 'eat me' sign was set by the pie. There was also a little key. Something struck a faint chord in his memory, but he couldn't quite figure out what that was. "Hey, check it out-" Dean poked at the pie and when his finger came up covered in fruity-pie filling, he licked it away without much thought. "Still warm, y'think that means-"

Sam had been examining the room when his brother spoke, and he was too late to object when Dean lifted his finger to his lips. Dean hadn't finished speaking when he doubled over suddenly and groaned. "What the-Ugh... "

"Dean!" Sam was by his side in an instant, and that was only just enough time to watch in horror as Dean, clothes included, shrank before his eyes. And just like that, a miniaturized Dean stared up at Sam in stunned surprise from the floor.

"No friggen way..." Dean mumbled as he looked down at himself and then at the large room and his towering giant of a little brother.

Sam's face suddenly got a lot closer to his as Sam knelt down and peered at Dean with a mixture of worry and something that Dean could only describe as fascination-the bastard-and Sam gently poked his finger against Dean's chest as if to affirm that he were really there.

"Hey! Watch it!" Dean snapped as he pushed Sam's finger away, unnerved by the fact that it was almost damned bigger than he was. "What just happened?" he demanded, as if Sam might know. His voice wasn't very loud, but it carried in the quiet room enough for Sam to hear.

"You ate the pie, Dean. You're lucky it wasn't poisoned! What were you thinking?"

Dean winced. Sam's agitated voice was booming around him. And how the Hell was this lucky? "Stop shouting, Godzilla!" Sam looked a cross between faintly annoyed and apologetic as he spoke more quietly.

"Dean, I think I know what this is...sort of." his knees were hurting against the ground and he reached out a hand towards Dean who eyed it warily. "I'm gonna set you on the table, alright?"

"Like Hell I'm letting you pick me up, you freak." Dean growled, unsettled and on edge from the situation.

Sam shook his head and scooped a protesting Dean up into his palm and for a second as he rose, he just had to stop and stare at the small form seated on his palm. It was such a sudden and ludicrous situation, and moreover...it was his big brother, Dean, smaller than a doll in his hand. If he so much as squeezed to hard, Dean's little body could be crushed. The weight of his present situation was daunting and he resolved to keep close watch on the other.

"Sam!" Dean's voice was somewhat sharp and Sam noted a familiar look on Dean's small face. It was the same one he wore on the few occasions they'd ridden in an airplane.

Sam quickly, but gently, placed his brother on the table and Dean shot him a glare before he backed away from the edge and regarded his little brother. "So what the Hell's going on?"

"Well..." he hesitated and Dean lifted a brow expectantly. "You remember Alice in Wonderland?"

"Excuse me?"

"Alice in Wonderland...? Little girl follows a rabbit in a waistcoat down a hole and ends up in Wonderland?"

Realization dawned as Dean seemed to get the hint. "Yeah, I remember somethin' like that...you don't think..."

"Rabbit in a jacket...hole...magic food...the missing girl, Alice...you're the one who doesn't believe in coincidence." Sam noted.

"So what? I ate the pie and now I'm an action figure?"

"...That's one way of putting it. If you drink the beer, you should grow...in theory.." Dean was about to demand a drink, he could tell, and he continued. "But we aren't getting out of here that way." Sam pointed to the little door. "We have to be small to get through there."

"And then what? We don't know what's on the other side of that door."

"Wonderland?" Sam suggested and Dean shook his head.

"You are such a nerd."

Sam gave his brother's head a very light flick of reprisal and received a glare for his efforts. "We don't have another option. There's no other way out, and if something is coming for us down here-which is unlikely-you really want us stuck here?"

Reason and survival instinct warred with anxiety and survival instinct, but finally, begrudgingly, Dean muttered. "Fine. We'll try it your way. But stick a beer in your pocket in case. My clothes got mini with me, so maybe the beer'll get small too."

Sam was actually impressed with that reasoning and he complied as he slid a beer into his pocket before he took the key as well. He remembered the story, somewhat, and the movie vaguely-Jess' idea in a roundabout way, so he knew better than to leave it be. Sam then held out his hand beside Dean. "One more time."

Dean scowled. "You just can't wait to get your hands on me. Friggen pervert."

Sam didn't bother to dignify that with a response as he spared the waiting and scooped up his brother once more before he set him down by the door and then took a moment to smirk at the other faintly. "It must suck that your little brother always ends up bigger than you..." Just how long had it been since Sam had had to look up at Dean?

Dean's response was to flip Sam off and he allowed himself a flicker of amusement despite a grim feeling in his gut. If this really was the little girl's doing, somehow, then what was she?

And if it wasn't her...then what the Hell were they dealing with?

A few minutes and a distasteful bite of pie later, Sam found himself on more equal ground with Dean-and punched in the shoulder for good measure-and discovered that while the beer had shrunk, the key had not.

"Figures." Dean muttered before he grabbed a side of the key and Sam got the idea as he moved along the other side and hefted the key up. The pair of them lifted the key to the doorlock but as they tried to shove it in, a pair of eyes opened as a somewhat familiar voice shouted indignantly.

"Watch it, ya idjits!"

"Bobby?" Dean was rendered momentarily speechless alongside his brother, and the door scoffed.

"That ain't my name! And watch where yer pokin' that key, ya hear me?"

"Dude. I think someone slipped something in that pie." Dean tilted his stunned gaze to Sam who shook his head.

"Who just eats a random pie anyway, Yogi?" Sam muttered.

"Shut up, Sam." Dean hissed at the comical reference jab before he saw that the door appeared to be glaring at him. Being glared at by the door. That had to be a new one for the hunter records. "So...uh...Door." This was too crazy. "Are you...the door to Wonderland?"

"And if I was?" the door demanded.

Dean and Sam exchanged a glance before the pair hefted up the key again. There was only one way to go, it seemed, and before the door could object again, they shoved the key in and turned the lock.

"...That's it?"

Dean's question came after they'd gone through the door, and wound up in a large-looking garden of sorts, surrounded by plants and trees. Sure, the plants were pretty giant-sized, but otherwise...

"If this really is supposed to be Wonderland, I doubt it." In fact, knowing their luck, he doubly doubted it.

"So what now?"

"We find a way out." At a time like this, once upon a time, they might have called Castiel. But that was a no-go option now. Wherever they were, or whatever this was, they were on their own. "So start walking."

Whether Dean was having similar thoughts, he couldn't tell, but Dean didn't say anything as he and Sam walked side-by-side for a few minutes, taking in the abnormally large world around them.

In truth, Dean did note the lack of being able to call Castiel, amongst other things. He didn't like the reminder, or the unfamiliar territory. Dean was a hunter, he was used to weird, but he still liked to be in his element. He liked to be able to know what was coming and respond accordingly, to be able to fulfill his duty and protect Sammy and anyone else in his way.
Dean was broken from his thoughts as he stumbled forward suddenly, apparently tripped by a root of some kind and he grabbed onto the nearest thing to right himself: a flower.

"Oh, my word!" a huffy, irritated woman's voice came from the flower and Dean's expression was a rare one, a stricken, deer-in-the-headlights look as he jerked back and stared up at the glaring...flower? "You philandering cad!"

"Uh..."

Sam simply stared beside Dean. They'd handled all manner of supernatural baddie, celestial entity, and unholy minion...but this? This was just plain weird.

"Go! Get out! Go!" the flower shooed at Dean and when several other pairs of eyes on flowers were glaring at him, he took that as his cue.

"Sam, let's go." Dean hissed as he shoved the other forward a bit before he seemed stricken again. A flower lifted a leafy arm to pat his rear, and then winked at him. "I think a flower just...groped me. And winked at me. I just got violated by a flower."

Sometimes, his brother was ten kinds of moron but he wouldn't have him any other way. Despite their situation, he had to smirk faintly. "Probably karma. For groping that other flower."

"Bitch." Dean growled.

"Jerk." Sam was, for the brief moment, all smiles.

Levity wasn't the best approach to the situation, but damned if it wasn't nice to have five seconds of something decent. He wasn't sure what they were going to do, for starters, he didn't even know where they were. Short of say, the Trickster or an angel, who could do this to them? And since both options were unlikely, actually-one was impossible since the Trickster a.k.a. Gabriel was dead, so who had done it?

A flash of white ahead of them was their indicator that the rabbit was indeed here.

"Sam, the rabbit!" Dean shot his brother a 'hurry your ass up' glance and then took off. The rabbit was the only 'familiar' thing so far. The rabbit had taken them to this world, sort of, and perhaps he could get them out.

Dean could barely keep up as he caught little glimpses of white here and there. But the little rabbit was damned quick and soon he lost track of it all together.

Only to find a house instead.

Dean stopped his run and eyed the house before him as Sam ran up alongside of him. "Dean?"

"The rabbit got away, but check it out." he tilted his head in the direction of the house.

"Worth looking into." He wasn't sure if they could find someone who could actually help, but it was the best lead they had at the moment.

Dean headed up to the door, followed behind by Sam. He knocked once, twice, and at the third knock, the door simply opened. Dean cast a wary glance in before exchanging a glance with Sam, and then heading in with a shrug. "Hello? Anyone here?" he called out, and when he received no response, he started to head further in until he heard someone call out-

"The menage a douze* isn't until tomorrow, you twit! Honestly, as if I didn't have enough to do."

Dean and Sam exchanged a glance. That voice...

A hurried-man in a jacket emerged and cast them an annoyed glance. A man with a beeping wrist-watch, and a set of rabbit's ears from his head.

"Balthazar?"

The man didn't seem to hear as he muttered to himself and went moving about.

"Hey...Hey!" Dean, annoyed, placed himself in front of the other as he grabbed his shoulder and forced the man to look at him. "Where the Hell have you been? And what's with the ears?" They had never ascertained for certain that Balthazar had died, though they'd suspected it when attempts to summon him had failed. But apparently, here he was. Maybe this was another alternate world he'd transported them to?

"Oh, fine! You want an advance on your payment? Here!"

Something was shoved into Dean's mouth and he had the familiar, sweet taste of chocolate in his mouth before he swallowed instictively and then cursed. He didn't want to risk eating anything in this world again. "You ass-" but 'Balthazar' had already disappeared into the hallway and Dean clutched his stomach.

"Ugh...Sammy, I think I'm..."

"Not again!"

"Not my fault!" Dean gritted out before his eyes widened as his hand seemed to inflate before his eyes. Next thing he knew, the rest of his body was following suit and growing larger. "Shit! Sam! Make it stop!"

"What do you want me to do? Wave my magic wand?" Sam snarked in reply, mostly out of agitation for his brother's sake. He looked around desperately, but there was no 'eat me' or 'drink me' to help out, and the beer in his pocket was for growing-definitely not helpful now. He should have taken some pie, apparently.

Dean stumbled back and ended up fallen on his rump as he continued growing, now towering over Sam for the first time in years.

Sam had to back away, lest he be crushed by his growing brother.

"What do I do?" Dean's had nowhere to go and as he kept growing, he was forced to thrust his large arms out the windows, and his legs likewise, rather making a mess of the house and breaking it in the process. His head literally raised the roof, and for the second time he wore a rare, stricken look.

"Just...uh...hold on! I'll find something!" Sam called up to Dean and he saw the other wince as he tried to pull his arm free, stuck fast in the wall slash window.

"You broke my bloody house!" an outraged voice called out from below, not far from Sam in what small moving space remained. "You hairless ape! I'm late enough as it is, and you go and wreck my house!" Rabbit-Balthazar looked up in outrage and it became clear that whoever this was, it wasn't the real Balthazar. So what was the deal?

Sam approached the other cautiously. "Do you have anything that will shrink him?"

"Oh! As if this isn't enough damage?"

"You're the one that gave me the damned chocolate!" Dean's voice boomed overhead. He could hear their conversation and fully blamed the Rabbit-Balthazar for the situation.

Rabbit-Balthazar winced. "Fine! Fine! Have it your way! As if I knew you'd be such a prat...you are officially off of the list." he headed over to a dresser as he squeezed past Dean's leg and began rummaging around.

Sam watched before he looked to Dean and gave him a comforting pat on his large leg, litle good that it did. "Just hold on, alright?"

"Not like I have a choice." Dean snapped back, and he winced again as he tried to tug his arms away to no avail.

Sam chose to be sympathetic rather than annoyed, and as the rabbit produced a carrot, he accepted it with a frown up at his brother. "Only one way to do this, I guess..." he slipped the carrot into his pocket and began trying to climb onto Dean.

"Hey! What do you think you're doin', Sammy?"

"You can't move your arms, so I'll have to feed it to you. Pain in the ass." Sam added the last bit in a mutter that the over-sized Dean didn't hear. But he wasn't really calling the other that so much as commenting on the situation. Mostly.

Dean's expression spoke volumes of his displeasure at being climbed on and fed to, the situation in general-really, but he didn't protest and watched as Sam pulled himself up Dean's leg and then up his shirt until he could reach Dean's mouth. He opened wide and Sam hurled the carrot in, and he gulped it down in one swallow. There didn't seem to be any affect for a moment, until in a sudden whoosh Dean's limps shot back into himself and Sam found himself meeting the ground in a sudden, mildly painful fall. "Dean?"

"Son of a bitch!" Dean seemed tempted to use his favored phrase quite often in the present situation. He was again 'action-figure' sized [as compared even to the shrunken state they'd previously been in] as he glared up at Sam.

Sam was too exasperated to really be amused at this point. "Let's agree: no more eating things in this world."

"He shoved it in my mouth!" Dean protested, innocent this time at least, and Sam simply shook his head in reply as he undid the top of the beer and poured a bit into the cap where it would be more easily drunk by Dean. A few small sips later, he found himself growing again [and his clothes along with him still, thankfully] and wound up at a proper size.

Rabbit Balthazar had already left, apparently once he'd provided the carrot he felt that his duty was done. So be it. "Better?"

Dean gave a slightly shaken nod. "We just got here and I already hate this place. And what's with that Balthazar-looking thing? It wasn't a demon." he brushed himself off with a frown.

"Not sure. Last I checked, missing angels weren't part of the original story."

A flash of black hair outside, a quick glimmer of blue eyes, and Alice was running again. "The girl! Alice-she's here!" If anyone could help them find their way out of this weird-ass world, it was her, right? Something to look for at any rate, and he took off after her.

"Dean, hold on a second!" but Sam's protests were in vain as Dean darted swiftly after the little girl.

"Hey! Alice! Girl!" he added that last bit in case she didn't respond to 'Alice' for some reason. Definitely something eerie about the girl. Maybe she was a special case, like Jesse?

Dean didn't stop running until he realized that he was short one little brother.

"Sam?" he called out, but there was no response. The trees seemed of regular size, despite the odd plants, but he still felt disconcerted. There was light, but he couldn't see the sky at all, so how did that make sense? The trees were thick and and there wasn't a single sound around him...except for a cough?

"Sam?" Dean pushed past a bit of brush and side-stepped a tree to end up back in the path of the more garden-like area, and as he pushed past a few towering blades of grass...

He found a scruffily beared man dressed in an extravagant, multi-colored silk suit perched atop a mushroom smoking from a hookah pipe and spewing rainbow-colored smoke.

Dean stared at the man. "...Chuck?"

...

"Dean? Damnit, Dean!" Sam shouted loudly, but there wasn't even an echo back. Great. Trapped in 'Wonderland' not five minutes and Dean had already gotten himself lost, or was it Sam that had gotten lost? Either way, the circumstances weren't exactly stellar.

Trees surrounded him and he didn't realize he'd long since past the point of being able to see something other than trees a good ways back. Which direction had he run from, again? Sam turned in a full circle, but everything appeared just the same.

"How doth the little Samuel, solve each and every case? Is it perhaps his cleverness, or just his scary face?" A chuckle.

Sam froze. That voice, that obnoxious, faintly taunting, all-too familiar voice. A voice he hadn't thought to hear again.

"Gabriel?" Sam turned to find a man before him, Gabriel-or rather, Loki, dressed in black pants and a tight-fitting black shirt striped with purple, and a pair of black-and-purple striped cat ears to compliment a tail.

The man grinned in what could only be described as cattishly, revealing rows of fangs. "Cheshire, actually. As in, The Cheshire Cat. But you can call me Chesh."

Sam was stunned a moment, too much so to do anything other than stare until he found Gabriel before him in an instant and just a few inches away.

"What's wrong, gigantor? Cat got your tongue?" Gabriel's, or Cheshire's grin-apparently-widened.

Sam wasn't amused, and was too stunned to be even alarmed. "Gabriel...you're dead. Lucifer, he-"

"-I told you, name's Cheshire." The man suddenly floated up from the ground and laid in front of Sam in mid-air lazily. "This 'Gabriel', he a friend of yours?"

Sam's stunned expression slowly morphed into a frown and then a more defensive expression. "Don't play dumb. This is all you, right? 'Wonderland'?"

Cheshire tilted his head. "Are you some kind of nutjob, kid? How many times I gotta say it? Che-shire. Say it slowly."

Sam was confused now. This was so utterly Gabriel, this whole whimisical, obnoxious idea and reality...but the reality was, Gabriel was dead, wasn't he? And if he weren't, what would be the point of all of this?

"Fine. You're Cheshire, and I don't have time for this." Sam started to move around him, but a tail slinked around and caught Sam by the shoulder, strong as a hand as Cheshire whirled him around. "And where might you be going?"

Sam jerked away from the tail and eyed the other warily. At this point, it was such a strange experience that he wasn't entirely sure how to react. And the Gabriel-Cheshire had thrown him off a bit, but he hadn't seemed like a threat, more like painkillers-gone-wrong and as such he hadn't been on guard. But if the other was going to try to stop him...

"Don't worry, kid. I'm not going to eat you or anything." Cheshire chuckled. "Just wondering, since you seemed so lost before, how you think you're gonna get somewhere now."

Good point. "I'm looking for my brother." Sam admitted. Strange as it was, his baddie-sense just wasn't tingling for Cheshire, and he didn't exactly have a choice at the moment, did he? "Have you seen him?"

"May-bee." Cheshire drew the word out popped it a bit at the end as he eyed Sam. "What would you do if you found him? Where would you go?"

"Home, hopefully, so if you know where he is-"

"-Home? Now where's that?" Cheshire asked, like an interested child.

"What do you care?" Cheshire moved a bit closer and Sam took a step back.

"You know what they. Curiosity killed the 'me' and all." Cheshire seemed to find that quite amusing and grinned broadly again.

"Look, will you just tell me if you know where my brother is?" Sam tried again.

"I know where he is. But I still don't see why you want to know, or where you'll go if you find him."

"Why wouldn't I want to know?"

"Why would you?" Cheshire replied back easily and Sam shook his head.

Sam sighed. "Nevermind," he muttered, "I'll find him myself." Sam started to turn away when Cheshire appeared before him again and at that, Sam reached for the knife in his back-pocket.

The knife that was no longer there.

Cheshire's tail held the hilt of the knife and he gave a drawling, toothy smile at Sam. "Looking for this?" Sam's eyes narrowed and Cheshire sighed as he held his tail, and thus the knife, out to Sam. "Here, take it." Sam's eyes widened slightly in surprise. "I'm not your enemy, kiddo. Just a curious little bystander. I mean, really...if you find this brother of yours, what's the point? And if you can leave here, well where's your home? You don't have one, do you? Sticks and stones and nothing solid?"

Sam hesitated as he eyed the cat-man before he took the knife and gripped the hilt tightly, ready to use it if necessary. He couldn't figure out the 'Cheshire's' angle. "He's my brother. I'm not going to leave without him."

"Haven't you already?"

"...What?"

"You went downstairs, didn't you?" Cheshire floated down and suddenly zipped back up as he spoke. "And came back up. DIdn't seem to want to find him then, so what changed?"

Sam stiffened. "...How do you know that?"

"I'm the Cheshire. It's my job to know things. Just like it's your job to hunt things. And Winter's job to ice the flowers, I mean that both ways, by the way..."

What had changed? Sam, albeit Soulless Sam, had snatched away Dean's apple-pie life. That was what had changed. If Sam had been himself, he'd have wanted nothing more than to have run straight to Dean. Part of him would have balked at it, because Dean had suffered enough and because he didn't want to relive any aspect of Hell. But the other part? The 'Sammy' part, would have wanted to run to his big brother. To the safety, and familiarity, and understanding of the truest family that he had. He loved Bobby like a father, but he and Dean...

Yeah, their relationship probably was a little unnatural, but so the Hell what? They were brothers. Always.

Even Soulless Sam had known that in some critical way, so much so that despite his logical desire to have Dean hunting by his side, he'd left him to Lisa and Ben. Even though he had no feelings or sentimentality, he had the innate knowledge that his brother deserved happiness-even if he couldn't begin to fathom said happiness, even if he couldn't respect the desire. Soulless Sam had gone against Samuel to insist that Dean be left alone, and true-the first chance he'd gotten to change that-he had. But a year was a long time to hold out anyway.

And now? It was another toss up between the parts of him. The part that wanted Dean back in that life, with a good woman who loved him and a boy who he could tell meant the world to Dean. And damned if Dean wasn't a good man and a great father, better at both than he realized. But, maybe selfishly, he was almost glad that the other had been forced back into the life, and forced back to being with him. Glad that Dean had chosen to stay.

"Helllllo? Earth to Sammy, come in, Sammy?"

"Don't call me that." Sam replied automatically as he regained his conscious train of thought and fixed his gaze on the cat-man before him.

"Fine, kid. So you got an answer yet?"

"He's my brother. Of course I'd look for him."

"Broken record, much? 'He's my brother'. Okay, I get it, so it's just some misplaced sense of fraternal loyalty? But not actually what you want?"

"That's not what I said." Sam replied immediately, and why was he arguing with Cheshire again?

"Sounded like it. I just don't get it, what's the point? Just because you're brothers...what?"

"We look out for each other." Maybe he was sounding a bit like a broken-record, but it was hard to think clearly, things were getting jumbled and he had a sneaking suspicion that it was something to do with the Cheshire's presence.

"Yeah, and I look out for my tail, doesn't mean I'd go selling my soul for it. Or jumping into gaping holes of fiery torment."

Sam frowned as he regarded Cheshire for a moment. He'd thought perhaps that it was some strange figment produced by his mind as part of the world, and that was why it had looked and acted like Gabriel, and known things...but if he didn't know better-

"-Fine, so let's say you find your brotherly bud. How does a person with no home, go home?"

Well didn't that question just strike a chord. Home. Where the Hell was home for him? That cursed house, rebuilt after the fire that stole his mother? A slew of crappy-hotel rooms? The occasional crashes at Singer Salvage? The flaming pit he'd spent a century, the longest portion of his existence, in? The few nights he'd camped out in the Impala with Dean? That was definitely looking at a home from a physical standpoint. And from that standpoint, he honestly didn't have one. Hunters didn't have homes. Period.

"Home. It's a funny word. Children think of houses. Me? I'm pretty partial to a certain Duchess, but, hey, who's counting?"

"A Duchess is your home?" Sam's faintly incredulous and mildly sardonic question broke him of his thoughts.

"Why not? Who says a home's a place you gotta stay, eh? Call me a hopeless romantic, but isn't a home more like, well...where you're welcome? Like when it's five a.m. and you're too hopped up on cat-nip to know your tail from your...well, anyway-and you can just give 'em a holler and there they are with a back-rub and a bowl of cream so sweet it'll make your teeth fall out. And that little trick with the uh-tail. Mmm." Cheshire gave a little shiver that Sam found...a bit unsettling, but the dopey, cat-infused words made some measure of sense.

A home in a person? Now that might be something that he could relate to. In the end, it was his 'home' that had saved him. That glance through the window at a broken little soldier Dean had been sentimental enough to leave. The memories of their time on the road. And if he wanted to be honest, weren't those really some of the best times of his life? He had some great memories with Jess, and his 'normal' life...but times with Dean were just...better. It had been memories of Dean that gave him the strength to free himself from Lucifer, or at least take control, and stop the Apocalypse. Because he'd looked into that car and seen the only real home he'd ever known: Dean.

"Tell me where Dean is." Sam said suddenly as his gaze fell on the expectant-looking Cheshire.

"Ooh, I love it when you get all authoritative. Go on, say something else. Say 'bite me'." Cheshire purred. He sighed when Sam seemed unamused. "Well don't you get it yet?"

"Get what?"

"Answer my question and maybe you'll get it, and then you can find this brother of yours."

"...I want to find my brother. And, why the Hell I'm telling you this-I don't know, but...my home is wherever my brother is. So there. I want to go home, can't do it without him."

"You really are a girl, kiddo, you know that?"

Sam shot him an irritated look.

"Not your fault though. I do kind of have this natural truth-thing going for me. Ya ever hear of 'you can't lie to a cat'?"

"No." Sam said with a faint scowl.

"Yeah, well. Sounds reasonable so...that's about how it goes. So don't feel too bad about getting all mopey and bleeding your little heart out. I have that effect on people. That and giving them the innate desire to bow prostrate at my feet...but hey! That's a story for another day."

Sam was just plain annoyed at that point. "Where is Dean?"

"The answer's in the question, numbskull. Or in the answer to the question, at least. If you know where you're going, then you can't go back, right? Back to when you didn't know, when you were lost. You can't go forward if you're too busy looking back, and if you go forward, well...at least it takes you somewhere, right?"

"That makes no sense."

Cheshire sighed. "Like talking to a brick wall...a really big brick wall." he muttered and then he clapped Sam on the back and pointed ahead of them. "Just go forward, kid. You'll find him. Long as you keep moving forward, you always will."

Sam wasn't sure whether Cheshire was spouting wisdom or nonsense, but there it was. So was it curiosity or something else that prompted the strange figment to urge him on. Then again, maybe it really was a product of his own mind-telling him what he needed to hear? "Right...well, uh...thanks, Cheshire."

The man grinned again and lifted a hand to ruffle Sam's hair, who pushed the other's hand away quickly. "Don't mention it, kiddo. Good luck and all that. You're gonna need it." his body began to fade away before Sam's eyes, and before long, there was just a head. "See ya 'round, Sam." A ping, a flash of a white-toothed grin, and then he was gone.

Sam decided two things. One, that he'd just been granted a minor epiphany by a cat-man. And two.

This was way too damned Disneyland for his tastes.

...

"Chuck? Nah, I'm the Caterpillar. And who are you?" The Not-Chuck blew a puff of smoke in Dean's direction, and he scowled.

"Ha. Ha. Real funny, asshole." Dean sniped and the Caterpillar lifted a brow.

"Am I being funny? I thought I was just asking a question." Caterpillar mused as he took a long drag off his hookah pipe before he blew a translucent green smoke in Dean's direction.

Dean coughed a bit. "Dude, knock it off. What is this place?"

"Wonderland." came the short, almost thoughtful reply although the Caterpillar seemed to be quite alert while regarding Dean.

"...O..kay...How'd you get here anyway?"

"You keep asking questions, but you still haven't answered mine. Who are you?"

"Dean frigging Winchester, you want an autograph? Cut the crap, Chuck."

"Name's Caterpillar, not Chuck, 'Dean frigging Winchester', but you're still not answering. I don't care who you are, I just want to know, who are you?" he seemed rather pleased with himself and chuckled as he took another long drag of his pipe.

"Same damned thing." Dean was annoyed now, and a bit confused. He was getting the idea that it wasn't a joke, but if this wasn't Chuck, then who, or what, was it? Just a product of this 'Wonderland' place? He didn't remember the story as well as he thought, but then, he was pretty sure it had been a porn [same as Snow White] so...

"You can be someone, without being something, or something without being someone. Or someone who isn't even you. There's a lot of possibilities, actually." Caterpillar mused. "So I mean, who is Dean frigging Winchester? Just wondering."

"The Hell kinda question is that?" Dean growled, apparently more bothered by the inanity of the question than the ludicrocity of the situation and that he was actually being asked it. "Screw this, I don't have time." he started to turn away when a pink-ish cloud of smoke drifted past and twirled in the air before it dissipated.

"Don't have time to figure out who you are? C'mon, Dean, no one's that busy."

Dean turned slowly to stare at Not-Chuck with a frown. He wasn't so sure that it wasn't him...but how could it be? This whole damned world felt off. "I know who I am. Dean Winchester. Badass hunter and resident lady-killer. Happy now, worm-boy?"

"Caterpillar." he corrected archly through another puff of smoke, this time a hazy blue. "Well that might be who you are, but still not really answering, now is it? A teacher is a teacher because they teach, but that's not really who they are, is it? Who you are isn't defined by who you are based on what you are. So who are you really?"

Dean felt like the other was giving him a mental loop with all those little reversing questions, but he thought he almost understood what the other was getting at. If he wasn't a hunter or a lady-killer, then what was he? Who was Dean Winchester? And that kind of inquiry just pissed him the Hell off.

"What's it to you?" Dean growled.

"Nothing, really. It was just on your mind pretty heavy. You don't really know who you are, right? Can't choose between the apple pie and the bloody whiskey?"

Dean stiffened. "Listen, you son of a bi-"

"Sam's big brother. Ben's almost-father. Lisa's almost-husband. Castiel's friend. John's son. Mary's boy. Bobby's almost-son. The Righteous Man. The breaker of the first seal. A hero. A bastard. Undeserving to be saved. Belonging in Heaven." The Caterpillar named them all as though tick-marking them off.

"You are Chuck." Dean snarled, after a slight bit of surprised hesitation.

"Nope." Another puff of smoke. "I'm the Caterpillar. I watch Wonderland, everyone that comes or goes, and I see inside each and every one of them. I see the darkness in you, and the light. But you know what? Neither's good or evil. It's what you make of it. And you vastly underestimate your potential, Dean." The Caterpillar chided.

Dean wanted to climb on that mushroom and throttle him.

"You don't know a damned thing about me."

"Oh?" The Caterpillar blew a puff of smoke, and suddenly, there was a hazy form of Lisa in violet smoke that solidified into a translucent but properly-colored version. She gave Dean a sad, half-smile, and Dean's expression became pained until she disappeared suddenly. "I know you're pretty heartbroken, but you won't admit it."

"You-"

The Caterpillar blew again and an angry, red smoke formed a grim-looking Castiel who gazed on Dean with a blank expression and Dean cursed as he swung a fist at the smoke which dissipated at the touch of his hand. "You feel betrayed and confused."

"That's it, you-"

Another puff, and it was Sam and Ben stepping towards him. Ben's expression hurt and angry, Sam's soft and forgiving. Both were equally painful and Dean gritted his teeth as they faded. "Guilt. Because you love them so much and feel like you failed them. Your responsibilities. And that's just the tip of the iceberg. You constantly beat yourself up for stuff that just isn't your fault, Dean. One man can't save the world."

"Yeah, well, he can try." Dean, through some intense act of will power, kept his position away from the Caterpillar for the moment.

"Sam needs his brother, he said so. And Dean needs his brother too, you said so. Ben and Lisa need a Dean. Castiel needs him as well. And Bobby-"

"I don't know what you're getting at, but we're done here." Dean growled as he turned to stalk away, stopped when this time the Caterpillar actually stood before him and peered up at him with an expression both thoughtful and sympathetic.

The Caterpillar touched a finger to his head and a bright blue dot formed. "Tell me something, Dean. Humor me. Am I white, or blue?"

"What?"

"Am I white, or blue?" he slipped off his jacket to reveal his bare white arms and he held them out before he motioned to the dot on his head. "Well?"

"Uh, right. How about option 'C'. You're crazy." Dean started to push past but the Caterpillar moved over and he gave the other a warning look. "Get out of my way."

"Dean, humor me, please?"

Dean glared down at the man a moment before he muttered. "White."

"Oh? And why's that?"

"What the Hell do you mean 'why'? Look at you! Painting your head doesn't change that."

The Caterpillar smiled then. "Ah. So what you're saying is...you're still yourself, even with a mar, or a scar, or a failure...painting a dot on my head, you failing to save a life...it's the same thing. It doesn't change your essential self, right? You're still Dean. You still try. And it still matters."

Dean stared down at the Caterpillar, and he couldn't quite find a response. He tried and mangled it. "That's...not...it's different..."

"No." A hand lifted to Dean's shoulder and though he tensed, it wasn't shrugged off. "Stop trying to believe the worst of yourself. Hell is a spot on your head, a dark one, admittedly. Many of your sorrows are. But it doesn't define you. Your mistakes, not even your successes define you. You aren't your job, Dean. Who you are is the man who does the job, even when no one else does. Who gives up his own happiness, on the chance that he might spare another's. You're a better man than most, give yourself some credit."

"You're crazy." Dean spoke the words quietly though, almost a whisper and his expression was faintly troubled. He should be socking the man in the face, so why was he listening? Why did the words almost...make sense? He'd never been much fond of Chuck, but the other was familiar, someone that he knew and this Caterpillar felt the same...and more. Strangely inviting.

"Maybe, but aren't we all a little crazy?" The Caterpillar's smile widened as he squeezed Dean's shoulder. "There's a lot of responsibility on these shoulders, but you bear it well. Remarkably so. There are people who love you and who are proud...you make a difference you can't even know."

A puff of smoke erupted on it's own and formed a hazy vision before Dean, snapshots of moments in the lives of those he'd saved. Lives they had thanks to him. They didn't all know it, would never thank him, but it was there. Because of him.

"Who are you, Dean?"

"I'm me. You wormy son of a bitch." Dean muttered as the vision cleared and the Caterpillar laughed aloud before he found himself alone, but a little path was cleared in the trees and he suspected that it would lead to his brother.

Dean took one last look at the now empty-mushroom and shook his head. Crazy, huh?

He could live with that.

...

Trust the Gabriel look-a-like to screw him over. Just how long had he been walking anyway? Sam had seen nothing but forest and no sign of his brother. He'd had plenty of time to think things over though, and it still boggled him. But all the same...he'd realized a few things, hadn't he, or weren't they really what he already knew? Not that it mattered though. Sam's feelings in regards to Dean were just another tether keeping Dean away from what could be a truly good life for him. As long as he felt like he had to watch Sam, he wouldn't watch out for himself. Sam's happiness came first, even when they were kids. It had been Dean who'd given up portions of his food to make sure that Sam had had enough. And Dean who'd actually robbed a house just to give Sam some semblance of Christmas. Dean who'd sold his soul just to bring Sam back to life. Dean who'd refused to give up on him even when he'd gone his own version of Darkside. That and more. Dean wasn't the only person that Sam cared for, but he was the only one that Sam could truly think of as 'home'. But as for Dean...he had another home, the literal and metaphorical kind, and he'd given it up-partially for Sam.

Just how was he supposed to fix that, or even equate that? What could Sam give that would be equivalent to that devotion?

"I think I get it now. Souls are just an excuse to sit around and whine, right?"

Sam froze, he recognized that voice and as he turned, he found himself faced with...himself. The Soulless Sam.

Shit.

...

Dean wasn't much for brooding on something like a conversation with a hopped up Caterpillar-Not-Chuck, but damned if he wasn't doing it anyway. Everything he'd said had been much of what he'd yearned to hear and he hadn't even realized it. Because that would have meant admitting to himself that he needed reassurance, that maybe he wasn't so sure that he wasn't the fallen man he'd believed himself to be. That it wasn't a failure every single time he messed up.

"Whatever helps you sleep at night, right, Dean?"

"You're gonna die, Dean! And this is what you're gonna become!" The black-eyed Dean grinned.

"You." Dean turned and faced himself, black-eyes included.

The other Dean smiled, mirthless and cold.

"Me."

...

First Azazel, now this? At least he could blame Soulless Sam on Wonderland, maybe, but Hell. He was done with this crap. "I beat you. You shouldn't be here."

"How's that?"

"I shot you, remember?" Sam tried to adopt a colder tone than he could really make himself feel, he was unsettled and anxious, in truth. Soulless Sam unnerved him, in a very Dorian Gray* way. He knew that the other was poison to him, as it were, that there was no good that would come of acknowledging him. But there was something distinctly fascinating about it all the same, looking at the other version of him. At a Sam ruled purely by logic and rationality and base, physical drive. A hunter to the extreme, his opposite in so many ways and his partner in so many others.

"I think you're confusing me with someone else. I'm Tweedle-Dum." The Soulless Sam said with a faintly lifted brow, a bit of mimicry of human expression.

Sam wasn't sure whether or not to laugh at that. Well, if nothing else-he'd confirmed beyond all reasonable doubt that this world was some sort of weird Wonderland recreation. But if Gabriel wasn't Gabriel, then this was just a figment too? But if this was really Soulless Sam in the confines of Wonderland's reality...then did that mean that the other was Gabriel, and alive?

"All that self-doubt. All of those jumbled thoughts. That's why you'll never measure up, isn't it?" Despite lacking emotions or feelings, Sam had noticed that Soulless Sam seemed to take an awful lot of self-satisfaction in his cruelty and egoism.

"I'm stronger than you." Sam said firmly. "A soul is strength."

"Really? Because I was under the impression that a soul was weakness. Suffering. Sorrow. Pain. Regret. Doubt. And a litany of other 'fun' traits. But you would know better, right, soul-boy? What's it like, living in a constant state of self-annihilation?"

Was this to be a theme of Wonderland, then? Making him second-guess himself?

"You don't know, you've never had a soul."

"Maybe not." the other Sam, Tweedle-Dum, shrugged. "But does it really matter? I've seen you, curled up and shivering in a worthless heap. I've seen you crying out for your brother in your dreams like a sniveling child. You're pathetic. Fearful, and doubting, and depressed. I'm the better hunter. I don't have those things to get in the way."

"You are-" Sam started an accusation but was cut off.

"-I am Tweedle-Dum. I can see in your head. So don't confuse me with that soulless version of yourself."

"Fine. What do you want from me?"

"Hey, you're the one who came walking through my neck of the woods. Now you pay the piper." Tweedle-Dum shrugged.

"Pay with what?"

Tweedle-Dum's lips, Sam's lips really, curved into a mirthless smile. "Your life, of course."

...

"So what? This me going crazy or something?" Dean regarded the black-eyed Dean casually, despite the sudden spike in his heart rate and a mind racing to come up with a rational excuse for all of this and a method to combat the other if necessary.

"Nah. That happened a long time ago." Black-eyed Dean kept his smile, made all the eerier by being on a face that should have been Dean's alone.

"Alright then. What the Hell are you, and what the Hell do you want from me?"

"Using 'Hell' twice in one sentence. Very intimidating, Dean. Next time, try glaring a little too. That always helps." Dean's jaw clenched and the black-eyed Dean chuckled. "Name's Tweedle-Dee. And I'm just here because you just won't leave me the 'Hell' alone."

"Tweedle-Dee? That supposed to be funny?"

"You supposed to be a hunter?" Tweedle-Dee drawled back. He took advantage of the lack of speedy reply to continue. "From what I see poking around that twisted little mind of yours, it's all whine, bitch, moan, repeat. Not much going on downstairs either. Lights are on but nobody's home, eh, Dean?"

"Shut up."

"Nice response. How long it take ya to come up with-" A gunshot stopped his speech, but didn't do much it seemed as it passed right through.

"You're a ghost?"

Tweedle-Dee chuckled as he moved with inhuman speed to stand before Dean and pat his cheek patronizingly. "Don't you just wish?" And then his hand was against Dean's chest as he sent the other hurtling back into a tree with crushing force.

...

Sam found himself in a fight for his life with himself-pardon-Tweedle-Dum yet again. The world had to be manipulating his mind and memories somehow to create the figment before him. He'd been slammed into the ground twice and was pretty sure he'd gotten his jaw nearly broken. In return, he'd managed a mostly-blocked kick. The other Sam was skilled, he'd admit, but he knew better than to believe they were his skills. They were part and parcel of 'Wonderland', a little figment booster shot. Call it a hunch.

"So, what? Knocking me around is fun for you?"

"Sammy.." the way Tweedle-Dum said the name was mocking, a personal address to the souled Sam. "You just don't get it. I can't help it if you're weaker than me. It's kinda what happens when you'd rather spend your time practicing the fetal position than, I don't know, doing your job?"

"I do my job just fine, thanks." Sam said as he advanced in a slow circle and Tweedle-Dum followed suit.

"That right? Well, we'll see, won't we? Especially with that little devil on your shoulder. What did Dean say when you-oh, that's right...you haven't told him. You'd rather lie to him...again. Because that worked out so well last time." Tweedle-Dum smirked faintly.

He was like the Soulless Sam and yet not, and Sam couldn't figure out it's angle. Was it just trying to make him second-guess himself? A trap of Wonderland? He didn't recall Alice ever fighting for her life against herself, but it figured that they-Dean. Crap. Did that mean that Dean was in trouble?

A fist slammed into his stomach and he doubled over before a hand gripped his hair and yanked his head up. "I'm the one you'd better pay attention to, Sam."

Sam took the opportunity to send his own fist slamming into the other's stomach, and it caused the other to release him and stumble backwards. "I'm not lying to Dean, he just...he's better off-"

"-Not knowing? Not helping his baby brother? Finding out later that you've got ole yellow eyes sitting on your shoulder urging you to rip your brother's pretty little head off? Yeah. Good job with that 'not-lying'." Tweedle-Dum chuckled. "Admit it, weak as you are, Dean's weaker. And you know it."

"He's not weak."

"That's not what you told Ruby...honestly, do you have any idea what your brother really did in Hell?"

Sam stiffened. "You can't know more than I do about it."

"Oh, but I can. I can see everything in your mind, I can pay attention to all the little details that you missed. You have no idea what Dean is capable of. He might even be more of a monster than you are."

Sam gritted his teeth at that before the pair advanced at the same time. He tried to kick the other's legs from under him but Tweedle-Dum grabbed his leg and yanked him off balance before he set a hard kick into his side. "Dean was finally happy, and then you came along. What's funny is that he could be happy still-but you just won't let him. You'd rather wallow in self-pity and drag him along for the ride."

"Shut. Up!" Sam grabbed the other's shirt and yanked him down before he tried to pin him, and the pair went back and forth on the ground, fighting each other. He slammed a fist into Tweedle-Dum's face and when his nose bled, he grinned bloodily.

"What's wrong? You don't want to hear the truth?" he surged forward so that he was pinning Sam instead. "You went to Hell and back. You'd think that might make you a little stronger. But you just can't move on. You were so wrapped up in pretty little Jess you almost lost your brother. Then in Ruby, and you almost lost him again. And then there was the whole Hell bit."

"I made a mistake."

"Only one?"

Sam's reply was to try to knock the other off of him, but he found himself pinned by the arms instead. "You keep doubting yourself, Sam. You make yourself weak and you make your brother weak with you. Not that you'd notice, because you're too busy reliving the past, crying over your miserable life."

"You talk too much." Sam said as he slammed his knee up and into the other's groin, causing him to jerk away. Yeah, it wasn't exactly the most guy-honorable move. But effective. Sam slammed his foot into the other's head in a painful kick that sent Tweedle-Dum to the ground. His words had been painful to hear, at first, but now they just made him angry. Who the Hell was this character to tell him something like that? But wasn't it just a little true...keeping secrets from Dean had gotten them in trouble in the first place. And as for bringing Dean down...well, Dean certainly wasn't at the top of his game while he was too busy fussing over Sam. That made sense, at least. But how could he just let go of everything? Of Hell? How was he supposed to move on from that?

"You won't." Tweedle-Dum said, and he'd apparently known what Sam was thinking. "You'll be alone, just like always. Your brother will die, because of you. You'll never get stronger because you can't even do something as simple as move on. All it takes is moving forward but you? You're one step forward and eight steps back, you little twit." he'd risen to cast a mocking glance at Sam. "Yeah, you got ass-reamed in Hell. Big deal. Are you alive now, or aren't you?"

"What do you care?"

"I don't. But you do." Tweedle-Dum said somewhat cryptically before he charged Sam again.

...

Dean's body felt like it had been hit by a damned truck. There was a dent in the tree where he'd hit it, and a smaller dent in a tree a few feet off where he'd been slammed again. Whatever the Hell this 'Tweedle-Dee' was, it was strong.

"C'mon, Dean. You can do better than that, can't you? What happened to all that potential? You were Alistair's favorite, you know, and not just because of all that Righteous Man-gone-bad crap."

"Shut up."

"Again with the big hitters. Just admit it. You miss it don't you? Back when things were simple...'bleed the bitch', 'rip the prick's tongue out', back when Alistair was holding your bloody little hand."

"I said shut up!" Dean slammed into the other Dean and sent his fist flying into the other's face. His nose cracked and bled, and Dean tried another punch that failed when he received a powerful kick in the stomach that sent him back. How the other had gotten his legs up to do that was a mystery, and damned annoying.

"What did that first one call you? She thought you were a demon, then it was just monster. Always monster. I guess you're the thing under the bed these days, right, Dean?"

Dean gritted his teeth as he rose and glared at the other. When he didn't reply, Tweedle-Dee continued.

"You think Sam knows? What would he do if he knew what his big brother had really done down there. Sure, Sam had a century in Hell but it was just torture. You? The things you did-" he had to move to the side as Dean attempted to grab him. Guns didn't work, but physical force did. "I just wonder what you think in all this? How you could touch Lisa with those blood-stained hands, how you could tell Ben what to do like you're even a real person..."

"I am a real damned person, you son of a bitch." Dean snarled. He was just plain angry and acting off of that.

"Just keep telling yourself that. You don't even know what you really want. Like this kick you're on about saving Castiel. Do you really want to go to all that trouble for him?"

"What the Hell does that mean?"

"Sure, he helped you back in the day, fell for you. 'Cas', he was then. Real sweet, naive little prick of dick-with-wings. But now? He let Ben and Lisa be kidnapped. He broke Sam's wall. You told him he was your brother and his response was basically a big 'fuck you'. And now you're gonna run off and save him? So typical. You're so busy trying to save everyone, you don't even pay attention to what you're saving anymore. Like Eve's little pet boys. Reminded you of the good old days, right? Back when you and Sam were still riding with Daddy?"

Dean's face became an expression of rage as he charged the other and found himself tripped and sent sprawling into the ground. Tweedle-Dee had a good grasp of Dean's moves, and was faster and stronger, it seemed, besides.

"And then there's Adam. You'd think that might matter to you, but Death gives you one little 'no' and do you even bother trying anything else? You're going to save that dick Castiel from dying, but not even bother to save your own brother's soul. Again?"

At that, Dean froze and it only just seemed to register in his mind. It hadn't occured to him to try and ask about Adam again. Death had said that he might pull a soul once, but not twice, but if he...instead of Castiel...but...

"It's funny how astounding to you it always is that you can't save everyone. And you take it so damned hard. Like you should somehow have personal responsibility for everyone. The hubris on you, boy, is legendary." he chuckled.

"You don't know a damned thing about me. So you can see inside my head? Big freaking whoop. You don't know me."

Tweedle-Dee moved so fast that he seemed to appear behind Dean. "You sure about that?" he grabbed the other's neck and head-locked him as he began to choke him. "You let yourself bleed and cry over every bit of spilt blood. You're so busy being a little pain in the ass, you can't work properly. Can't allow yourself any happiness. Because you don't even think you deserve it? Why is that, exactly? All that stuff you did? Sam did that or worse...yeah, you tortured some souls in Hell. But Sammy? He kick-started the Apocalypse by sucking down demon blood like it was water. And he flayed a bitch to do it. He had the Devil inside of him, by his own choice. 'Noble' though it was...so I guess if you're beyond redemption, he is too, right?"

"No." Dean grit out as he tried to force the other's arm off.

"No? Let me guess. It's 'different' for you? You're not that special, Dean. Sorry to break it to you. You've made some pretty big mistakes, but even I gotta admit, you've done better than worse. You'd see that, if you weren't so busy playing pity-party. Oh well, too late now. Sam should be finished off by now by my brother, he's Tweedle-Dum-by the way, and you-"

An elbow slammed into his stomach with surprising force and he stumbled back as Dean glared. "Where is Sam?"

"Ooh, did I make you mad? Well, he's that way." Tweedle-Dee pointed. "But you can't get to him without going through me. And let's face it, you're just not up for that, are ya, kiddie? How are you going to kill me without a gun?"

Dean charged the other again and the pair soon found themselves fighting on the ground. Tweedle-Dee laughed when Dean's fist connected with his face and he slammed his fist against the other's side in return. "Poor Dean. Your brother's gonna die on your watch-again."

"I said shut up, damnit!" Dean was sick and tired of whatever this thing was. The black-eyed Dean from his dreams had been like him, but this Tweedle-Dee fellow was just wearing his face. They weren't the same.

"Just admit that I'm right, then. And I'll be satisfied. You can't have it both ways, are you Hell's prodigal son, a monster in a meatsuit? Or are you the Righteous Man?"

"Neither." Dean said as he rolled atop Tweedle-Dee before he pulled away and stepped back to eye the other from a more defensible position. "Screw the religious crap. I'm Dean Winchester, you can shove everything else up your ass."

Tweedle-Dee smirked faintly. "I know what you're afraid, you know. What you're really afraid of. Sam and Bobby are about all you have left, and if they leave you too...well, you're just screwed, ain'tcha, kid? But still, ya just keep pushing them away. Must suck, being your own worst enemy."

Dean was done. He didn't care if this thing was wearing his face, or someone's grandma, he was through listening to this crap. Dean had taken it from the Chuckapillar, but this black-eyed wannabe was just pissing him off. How the Hell was he supposed to think through this anyway? What did it matter if he was a sinner or a saint, who the Hell cared? Dean was living off of borrowed time anyway.

Tweedle-Dee appeared behind Dean suddenly and he felt an arm slide around his shoulder as Tweedle-Dee murmured by his ear. "You wanna know what your problem is, Dean?" he rapped his knuckles against Dean's chest. "You're a Tin Man. You got no heart." Tweedle-Dee chuckled and Dean didn't hesitate. He jerked an elbow into the other's gut before he turned and took advantage of the other's unbalance to grab his head and put all the force he could muster into a quick, jerking motion, one that snapped the other's neck hard.

"Wrong movie, jackass." Dean said coolly as he let the body drop, actually a bit taken aback that it had work, and further taken aback when the body simply disintegrated and seemed to disappear.

"You're a Tin Man. You got no heart."

Dean couldn't help but smile faintly at that. A Tin Man?

The black-eyed prick had no idea.

...

"And this is it. Tragic. The final moments of Sam Winchester and all he can do is...choke. Pun intended." Tweedle-Dum's fingers were clamped tight around Sam's throat, held back up against a tree as the asphyxiation process was nearing it's completion. It hadn't taken him long to get Sam into that position. "They say your life flashes before your eyes. What's that looking like, Sam?"

Sam let out a gurgle as he tried in vain to unclench those fingers. He was going to die. Here, in some twisted fantasy world. And Dean? Who was going to look out for Dean then? He couldn't die now...couldn't... Stars danced before his eyes, but before the blackness dancing at the edge of them could overtake his vision completely, he heard an all-too welcome voice and found himself dropped.

"You guys need a damned mute button." A fist collided with Tweedle-Dum's face, hard enough to crack bone as he stumbled back and dropped Sam.

Sam coughed and wheezed as his hand flew to his throat and he struggled to catch his breath. Strong, warm hands latched onto him and pulled him up as his brother's voice came urgently into his ear.

"You okay, Sammy?"

Sam couldn't manage much more than a nod and a choked sort of agreement as he inhaled heavily to reintroduce his lungs to the concept of breathing and air, but it was enough. Dean looked first relieved, and then pissed. He let his brother lean against the tree before he turned to face the other Sam.

Tweedle-Dum frowned as he rubbed his offended cheek. "This isn't how it's supposed to be. You should be dead. You fight yourself, not me."

"I don't do 'should bes'." Dean said as he took a step forward and stood protectively in front of his brother. "What I do is kick the ass of any son of a bitch dumb enough to mess with my brother."

Sam heard those words and felt a warmth spread in his chest that had nothing to do with being able to breathe again. Screw what the figments said. Dean was real, and strong, and here. He didn't want to burden Dean, he didn't want to make him bear his weight, but the fact that he was doing it anyway...

"Coming from you, that was down right sentimental." Tweedle-Dum mocked before he shook his head. "Well, did you learn anything at least?"

Dean's cocky expression became a frown at that. There it was again. 'Learning'. A sneaking suspicion was dawning on him-one that had been with him from the get-go that something just wasn't right here. And not in the being-groped-by-flowers sense, either. More like a missing-the-big-picture sense. These things wanted to kill him and Sam, but wanted them to be learning lessons too? Something was definitely going on, but he wasn't about to play into the little game.

"Other than you bastards talk too much? Nah, not really." Dean aimed his gun for the other suddenly, just in case it might work, and sure enough the other Sam moved out of his line of fire quickly. It wasn't a certainty, but it led him to believe that his bullets might just work on the other Sam, or Tweedle-Dum, rather.

But that was only if he could tell which was which in order to shoot.

As Tweedle-Dee moved away, he bent down and hurled a handful of dirt at Dean. It was a first, obviously, and he cursed as he was forced to take a minute to wipe his eyes and try to clear them of the dusty debris.

"Dean!"

Dust-blurred eyes, now red and watering, opened and squinted at the scene before him. Identical Sams, side by side, wearing similar agitated expressions and both with red marks around their necks indicative of a strangling attempt.

Damnit.

"That's playing dirty." Dean growled, in reference to both the dust and the look-a-like game, actually. "Well, I can play that game too." he lifted his gun and moved it back and forth between them before he settled for a position between the pair.

Neither Sam's expression changed, they looked to each other before one spoke. "Dean! C'mon, man, you know who I am."

The other Sam looked affronted and turned his gaze to Dean. "He's lying! I'm Sam. You know me, Dean."

Dean looked between the pair. They were identical. Every detail was the same, the expressions were right, the words...so how the Hell was he supposed to figure out which one was his Sammy? "Right...tell me something only Sam would know, then." Dean challenged, but he quickly realized he'd spoken without really thinking.

Both Sams fixed him with a faintly annoyed, slightly exasperated look. "Dean," they chorused that in unison.

"-He has my memories."

"-He knows what I know."

Dean tried to divine from the phrasing of the statements which might be his brother, but they were the damned same to him. The second sounded more like Sam, he supposed, but it wasn't a guarantee and he didn't want to just shoot if he wasn't sure.

"Dean!" One of the Sams seemed a bit irritated. "I knew it was you right away with Dad and yellow-eyes, how can you not know me by now?"

"Don't listen to him, Dean." The other Sam's expression was calmer, almost too calm, in Dean's opinion. But those puppy-eyes he was giving Dean... "He's got my memories, but he's not me. You have to know that."

That sounded more like his Sam, but again, he had to be sure.

"My memories, you mean." One Sam said to the other.

The other Sam fixed him with a faint glare. "No, I mean mine."

"Dean." both Sams turned to him suddenly, as if for him to decide the outcome of their little argument.

Dean stared between the two Sams a moment before he stepped forward. He aimed the gun at one Sam's head, and watched as a flicker of hurt and hesitant anxiety came into his expression. "Dean, look at me, you know me."

Dean hesitated and then turned his gun onto the other Sam, whose eyes widened in similar hurt and anxiety, damn all. "Dean, come on...you said you were counting on me, well I'm counting on you too."

Dean slowly moved the gun away again and looked away for a second.

"Dean-"

"Shut up!" Dean's voice was sharp as he thought about it for a moment, and then he took a deep breath, lifted the gun-

-And fired.

The bullet lodged itself in the skull of one of the Sams, and he watched as the body made a choked noise before it fell and lay...bleeding? Why wasn't it disappearing like the other one? Horror rose within Dean...he'd shot the wrong Sam?

A pair of familiar eyes were fixed on Dean and he took a step back, unable to believe the mistake he'd made...he'd just...he'd killed his own brother? How could he have thought? "Sammy-" Pain laced the name as he dropped to his knees, only to feel like his heart might stop as the body disappeared. Did that mean-?

"Dean?" Sam's voice was soft as a hand pressed on his shoulder lightly and he found his little brother bent to regard him with concern. "Dean, I'm me. It's okay." he had been worried at first, despite himself. Dean hadn't seemed to know which was which and the other Sam was admittedly convincing. Then he'd shot and Sam thought that things were alright, until something Dean expected to happen didn't, apparently. Dean had been staring at the body expectantly, and when nothing happened, he looked like he'd been socked in the gut. The amount of pain shoved into his name was a good indicator that Dean thought he'd made a mistake, until the body disappeared and Sam realized what Dean had been waiting for, and what he must of thought that he had done.

"Dean?"

Dean looked a little pale, but he soon tilted his gaze up to Sam with a frown before he rose and socked his brother in the shoulder.

"Ow! What was that for?"

"You're such a girl. You can't even take care of your own damned doppleganger."

"Yeah, this from the guy who was ten seconds away from crying over said doppleganger."

Dean scowled. "I thought he was...aw, shut up."

Sam smirked just faintly before his brow furrowed. "How'd you know it was me, Dean?"

Dean hesitated a moment and then shrugged. "Only the real Sam could pull off those lame ass puppy eyes."

"Puppy eyes?"

"You heard me."

Sam lifted a faint brow before he prompted. "Really."

Dean sighed and then shook his head. "What do you want me to say? I just...knew. Same as when you knew I was me, I guess. I just did."

Sam smiled lightly at that before he addressed the other issue. "So you had one too? A doppleganger?"

"Yeah, 'Tweedle-Dee'. I broke his neck." Dean said, with more satisfaction than Sam felt was correct but he supposed Dean was probably more than a bit irked by something wearing his face. Particularly after all those bad experiences with shifters.

"Was he the only one you saw?"

"Doppleganger?" Dean misunderstood. "Yeah. But hey, I saw someone else too. Chuck. I thought it was him, anyway. Guess it's some guy that looks like him though, called himself 'The Caterpillar'."

Sam made a mental note of the information. "I saw Gabriel, but he called himself the Cheshire Cat."

Dean's complacent expression became focused at that. "Gabriel? Was it-"

"No." Sam finished before Dean could. "Just part of this world, I think." Gabriel was dead, and surprisingly enough...he actually mourned the other, somewhere in between despising him. Gabriel a.k.a. the Trickster was kind of an obnoxious bastard, to put it mildly, but he'd given his life for them and been-in his own way-helping them all along. He didn't entertain the notion of being buddies with the witness-protected angel, but he would be lying if he said that he didn't wish that the other were still alive, amongst other things.

"So...Balthazar, us, Chuck, and Gabriel..."

"And we're not out of the woods yet." Sam noted, to which Dean scowled.

"You think there's more of these crackpots that look like people we know?"

"I'd bet on it."

"Of course." Dean said sarcastically as he shook his head and started walking. "Well, let's get going. Gank enough of these bastards and maybe we'll find a way home."

'Home'. There was that word again. Dean included him in it so easily, but did he really deserve it? What was the meaning behind all of this? Sam, like Dean, had long since moved past this idea that this was random happenstance.

"Sam? You look like someone kicked your dog." Dean noted as he eyed his brother, but the faint tinge of worry that bled into his voice led Sam to the conclusion that he was waiting for something yet again, this time, something along the lines of Sam collapsing in a miserable heap. Dean had just saved Sam's life...from his own doppleganger, maybe he should collapse. The irony of it all was not lost on him, even if he was still unsure of what all was going on.

"I miss having a dog." Sam said absently, intentionally so as he started walking. It was better to throw Dean off topic then to have him dwell on what might be causing Sam's apparent distress.

"...Uh...sorry?"

"We should get one."

"A dog?" Dean sounded mildly incredulous. And then he scowled. "So it can pee in my baby? No thanks."

"If you get a car, I should at least have a dog." Sam countered, relieved that Dean seemed to have taken the bait.

"Yeah, 'cuz that's a fair trade." Dean shook his head. "You're not responsible enough for a dog." he mimicked John's words from long ago.

Sam scoffed. "This from the guy who could probably find a way to kill a rock."

"Some guys don't have time to take care of pets. They do guy things. Like get laid." Dean taunted in reply and he smirked faintly as Sam rolled his eyes.

Silence passed between them at that, but it was a comfortable one, almost comforting. A momentary distraction from the aggressive revelations of their dopplegangers, and the look-a-likes. "So what's next?"

"What?"

"You said this is like that book, right? So what happens?" Dean tilted his gaze to Sam.

"Ah." he paused to review what information he knew and made his way through it. "Well...I think this is just the first book, and from what I remember...there's a tea party...and the Queen of Hearts..."

"First book, so there's a second?"

"Yup. Something about red and white queens. And a monster called the Jabberwocky that Alice fights."

"And you read that crap?"

Sam paused to consider his answer before he replied honestly. "Sort of. Alice in Wonderland was...Jess' favorite 'kid' movie, so..."

Dean's expression blanked at that and he looked away and seemed to focus on their surroundings. But Sam knew it was his way of avoiding a touchy issue. He spared the other from having to even attempt a response by continuing on. "Maybe if we reach the end of the story, we'll get out of whatever this place is. Worth a shot."

"Sounds like a plan to me." Dean said firmly, not at all displeased to be spared a response. He paused a moment and then held up a hand to stop Sam from walking. "You hear that?"

"What?"

"Listen...you hear that?"

"Highway to Hell! Highway to Hell!" a faint chorus of those words, off-key to an almost ludicrous degree, could be faintly heard from the path ahead.

Dean and Sam exchanged a puzzled glance before Dean smirked. "ACDC. Maybe this world ain't so bad after all." he said as he headed in the direction of the music, followed by his brother.

Sam didn't share Dean's enthusiasm for a good deal of his music, but that song was particularly distasteful to him at this point. Something to do with spending a century in Hell, maybe?

"Yeah, you got ass-reamed in Hell. Big deal. Are you alive now, or aren't you?"

Was he too stuck on the past to move forward? Wasn't it only natural after what he'd been through to be...struck by it? Dean had been broken up too, but perhaps not as much as he'd thought. He'd been full of himself, drunk on demon blood and an enflamed ego thanks to a certain black-eyed skank. And he had to wonder about the doppleganger's words, as he did whenever someone mentioned Alistair. The way Dean had looked when Meg asked him if she'd be able to make Crowley, the King of Hell, talk. Because she was Alistair's apprentice, just like him, and he'd said 'yes'. Sam knew that Dean had tortured people, and that it had torn him apart, but he had to wonder just what Hell had taught Dean to be capable of.

Dean, meanwhile, was having his own mental conundrums. He didn't like being reminded of his time in Hell, or taunted about his family. But as for what the Chuckapillar said...how was he supposed to react? Dean...worth saving? He could think of a goodly number of people who'd disagreed but he supposed that, reluctant though he was to admit it-probably a testament to just how messed up he was-there were people who would disagree as well. And he'd be lying if he said that he didn't like the idea of being needed. Wanted. Relied up and counted upon and trusted. Dean supposed it was a lifelong craving, after working so hard for his father and trying to do right by his little brother. But what he'd done in Hell...if they knew, what would they say? Ben and Lisa? As for Bobby and Sam, they only knew what scratched the surface...

Who was Dean?

Damned good question.

As Dean and Sam cleared a few, last trees, they came to a clearing that was set up with a long table and a variety of chairs. The spread was messy and contained assorted tea-sets and little snacks, and so to the chairs- some were occupied.

A tea cup whizzed past Dean's head and shattered against a tree, and two pairs of Winchester eyes widened slightly as both tensed, ready to be on the defensive. The cup had come from the hand of someone whose face was hidden beneath a drooping, green hat. Beside him, a boy in a little light-blue suit looked on and Dean felt his breath still a bit as he saw the boy's face. "Ben?"

The boy seemed puzzled by the name and shook his head as he mouthed 'Doormouse'. Dean didn't get the reference and was pretty positive he'd misread the kid's lips. Clearly though, it wasn't Ben, and he was almost...a bit disappointed, struckl by a sudden, painful longing and nostalgia for that little home he'd built himself...with them. That was in the past though, and now he could never go back. Sam, beside him, was silent but he could feel his brother's eyes on him, which was why he carefully avoided looking the other's way. It was a strange little set-up, to be sure.

But what took them most by surprise was the last member of the little tea party.

"Hello, boys." A familiar, deep timbre. A rare but not unfamiliar smile, small and a little bittersweet. A rough, unshaven but damned welcome face.

Dean and Sam stared at the man before them in his striped-black suit and strange, bright green hat and it was Dean who tossed away common sense for the moment and found his voice first, just enough to manage a choked-

"Dad?"

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*Dorian Gray is a reference to a book called The Picture of Dorian Gray. It's basically a man who becomes eternally youthful because of a painting of him that ages and takes all the horrors of his life instead of him. If he ever looks at the painting [or destroys it-is I think the gig in the actual book-can't remember for sure] then all of those years and horror will come rushing back. And since he's an evil son of biscuit, he gets whooped when he looks at it. Yikes. Not really sure why it occurred to me, but it did and I liked it enough to put it even though it meant explaining it just in case. XD

Menage a trois* [with fancy French accents] refers generally to a sexual innuendo of three, but there's a very notable line in the show where Balthazar alludes to a twelve-some instead of a threesome, so I threw that in there. XD douze is twelve. I don't think it technically works that way, but Bal did it first so it's not my fault. XD

And lastly, this was going to be a two-part story but now I think it'll be a three-part. This beginning, then the tea-party scene/meeting the Queens. Then the climactic Jabberwocky battle and going home. XD But we'll see. Took forever to write. As it happens, I'm not finished and it's now 2:05am and I get up for 12 1/2 hours of work at 5:40am. So...yes. FEEL FREE TO REWARD MY EFFORTS WITH NOTES OF LOVE. Just saying. Because I'm tired and worked hard many drowsy nights and...I gave Bal bunny ears. So there. XD Love Witchy~