Chapter 1 has undergone an edit with a whole new scene! I wasn't going to have a house-rabbit scene, but it was requested by a lovelytastic reviewer, who totally is awesome and made my day XD, so I came up with an on-the-fly bit about it. Which is hopefully somewhat amusing. XD And the chocolate is given through questionable means but Dean wasn't gonna make the same mistake twice so...there. XD And it's posted in chapter one because I felt that it worked better chronologically. XD~

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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, some of which were occupied.

A tea cup whizzed past Dean's head and shattered against a tree, and two pairs of Winchester eyes widened slightly. 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

And lastly, this was going to be a two-part story but now I think it'll be a three-part, but I'll keep splitting it smaller in this story. 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 and...I gave Bal bunny ears. So there. XD Love Witchy~