Disclaimer: I still don't own either Supernatural or Merlin.

Hello again. I just wanted thank everyone that responded to the first chapter of this with either a review, a follow or a favorite. I really do appreciate the feedback and I'm sorry if I didn't get a chance to reply to you yet.

Anyhoo ... on to chapter 2 where Merlin and Sam both try to make sense of their situations, Arthur and Gaius are clueless, and Dean thinks his brother is possessed by a demon.

Chapter 2: Not in Kansas Anymore

Sam lay on the bed and closed his eyes, contemplating his current predicament while the other two men stepped away and conferred together in hushed tones that he could still hear.

"What's wrong with him, Gaius?" The young man asked.

"I'm not certain, sire. It is possible that his blood loss has caused some confusion."

"Some confusion? You saw him - he didn't even know his name and it's like he doesn't recognize us."

"I'm sure that all this is temporary and with some rest he'll be back to normal soon." The old man reassured the other gently, "In the meantime, there is little else you or I can do for him but give him time, so I suggest you return to your chambers and get some sleep as well. That concussion will not get better if you fail to take care of yourself, Arthur."

"But he'll be okay?"

"I think so. His wounds should heal nicely and there is no sign of infection thus far."

"Alright." The younger man reluctantly agreed after a few moments of contemplation, "I'll head back to my room, but you'll send for me when he's in a better shape to talk?"

"Of course, sire." There was a slight pause, "And Arthur?"

"Yes, Gaius?"

"Thank you for getting him home and for saving his life."

"I just wish I had been able to kill the beast that did this. I wounded it, but it's still out there somewhere and I won't rest easy until it's dead." The young man stated resolutely.

Sam kept his eyes shut as he heard footsteps march out of the room followed by a quiet shutting of a door.

Sam felt a hand on his shoulder squeeze him soothingly."Really Merlin, you must calm down. You're going to be just fine."

He snapped his eyes open and jerked away at the unexpected touch, regretting it immediately as white hot pain ripped through the wounds on his chest - wounds he still had no clue how he got - or rather - how Merlin got. Gaius kept a firm hold on him, gently pushing him back down onto the bed.

"Try not to move, you'll just make things worse."

Sam, in desperate need of answers, asked, "Please … what is going on? How did I get here?

"You were attacked by a creature in the forest. But you were lucky Arthur got you both back to Camelot just in time before you lost too much blood. You had me frightened there for a while."

All at once, everything snapped into place, though Sam was reluctant to believe any of it. The young guy had called Sam 'Merlin' and the old guy had called the blond man 'Arthur' - two names that usually only went together in legends.

It couldn't be ...

Sam's racing heart found a way to beat even harder.

"Camelot? I'm in Camelot?" He closed his eyes again. This wasn't happening. It was some kind of dream, but when he opened them again, he was still in the same bed with Gaius looking at him worriedly.

"Yes, Merlin. You've lived here with me for the past three years."

"Right … sure. I live in Camelot." Sam muttered sarcastically, almost snorting at the absurdity of it all. "And let me guess – that guy was King Arthur and I'm Merlin, his sorcerer. C'mon ... you guys are messing with me, right? You're just role-players from that Moondoor place, aren't you?"

Gaius' expression grew even more grave as he leaned in close and started running a hand through Sam's hair.

Sam reared back at the intrusion into his personal space, "What are you doing?"

"Checking you for a head injury or fever that might explain your apparent amnesia and strange behavior."

Sam batted Gaius' hands away feebly, his arms lacking any kind of strength. "I don't have a head injury or a fever. Trust me, I would know."

Gaius eyed him with a deep frown. "Yet when you first awoke you claimed that Merlin was not your name and you seem to think that Arthur is king when he is only a prince. Also ... you seemed to have picked up a strange accent."

All of those were valid points the apparently observant old man made, but Sam wasn't sure how far he could trust him. He hadn't seen anything from Gaius but a desire to help and genuine concern, but should he tell him the truth – that he had somehow been tossed from the future and into the body of a legendary sorcerer and that his accent was from a country that hadn't even been discovered yet? It sounded crazy even to him. He wasn't sure what the ramifications would be if this man thought him to be insane, so he decided that maybe he should just roll with the whole memory loss thing. Besides … when did he or Dean ever tell people they didn't know the truth right off the bat? It usually only ended up with people freaking out, so Sam decided to lie at least for now.

"I know. I was kind of out of sorts when I woke up. I'm just really tired is all and I'm sure I'll be fine come morning." Sam replied, winging it as he went, even going so far as to try out an English accent, hoping that it might help him fit better into the role of Merlin, even if the extent of his exposure to it was limited to Monty Python and Doctor Who reruns.

Gaius arched a critical eyebrow, looking at Sam as if he had grown a second head. Internally, he cursed his terrible rendition of the accent, knowing that he probably sounded less convincing as an Englishman than Kevin Costner in Robin Hood. He was going to have to work on it or come up with a better excuse for sounding so foreign.

Sam let out a little breath of relief as the older man nodded, albeit slowly, "Yes … I should think a good night's rest would do you some good." Gaius reached for a small vial sitting on the small table next to the bed and handed it to Sam, "Here … drink this. It will help with the pain and let you sleep."

Sam gripped the bottle and sniffed it experimentally, "What is it?"

"It's nothing you haven't had before. Come now, drink it down."

"All of it?"

"Yes, Merlin. All of it."

Sam took a breath then drank the concoction like he was taking a shot of whiskey, trying not to let the liquid touch his tongue. The vile-smelling stuff was rather thick however, and more than enough of it touched his taste buds to make mouth instant revolt and he gagged violently, squeezing his eyes shut tight as his whole body shivered in disgust.

"Ughhhh. Ohhhh … that tastes like ass."

Gaius' eyebrow nearly reached his hairline and he looked a little put-out. "Tastes like an ass?" The older man shrugged thoughtfully. "Hmmm … I suppose that is rather accurate," he conceded.

Suddenly the older man chuckled and then affectionately slapped Sam's knee, "Well, at least I can say with some confidence that you should be back to normal soon since you can still say the most idiotic things." Gaius grinned as if relieved then stood and pulled the blanket draped over Sam's legs up to his chin. "Why don't you go to sleep again and we'll see how you are feeling in the morning."

Sam frowned a little, but nodded tiredly, still smacking his lips to get the taste of the potion out of his mouth. Gaius bent over a nearby candle and blew it out before shuffling to the door and bidding Sam a good-night.

Alone and in the dark now, Sam tried to calm himself down a little and rationalize his situation. Both Gaius and Arthur, though seemingly concerned, seemed to think that Merlin was some kind of moron, which contrasted starkly with all that Sam had read about Merlin from the Arthurian tales. He was usually depicted as a wise, old, mystical, and powerful wizard wearing tall pointy hats and long flowing robes yet here he was, in the gangly body of the real Merlin who was barely older than a teenager. It was all confusing and he didn't know what to think. It was just that the reality of being Merlin was clearly not what he was expecting - not that he had been expecting any of this.

Sam realized that he needed to put his previous notions about all of the legends he had read about Camelot behind him and focus on coming up with a plan to get back to his own body and to Dean. First things first, he needed to recall just what had happened before he woke up as Merlin.

He thought back, remembering Dean's excitement as he called Sam down into the vault … Dean playing with a cross-bow … Sam wandering off to the right while Dean went left … then …

Sam's memories became fuzzy after that as the potion Gaius had him drink was starting to have an effect, making it hard for him to dig any deeper. But as Sam started to drift into sleep, his mind conjured up an image of him picking up a palm-sized crystal and then light surrounding him.

It must have been the crystal … somehow it had sent him here. How it happened, he didn't have a clue, and he was just too sleepy to ponder that question further. Seconds later, his snores filled the room.

OoOoOoOoOo

Merlin sat staring at his hands – or rather – not his hands as they started to shake. He'd seen and done some pretty unbelievable things before, but nothing like this. He touched his face, feeling sharp stubble scratch at his fingers as the traveled up to his hair – his really long hair – some stranger's hair.

"Dude … what's wrong with you?"

Merlin looked up and met eyes with the worried-looking, spiky-haired man sitting next to him. He had been so overwhelmed there for a moment that he had forgotten the other man was there. Suddenly, he found himself blurting out questions as fast as his mouth would allow, "What is going on? Who are you and where am I and what on earth is a ... a dude?"

Spiky-hair's eyes narrowed, first with confusion and then with anger as if he just realized something. "Son of a bitch," he uttered, springing from the bed.

Heading quickly for the wall behind him, the now irate man pulled down something that looked something like a crossbow, but with no string and two metal tubes where the bolt should have been. Merlin had never seen anything like it, but he didn't need to know what it was in order to know that if it was pointed at him, then it could probably hurt him.

Merlin raised his hands as Spiky-hair shouted at him, "Get out of him! NOW!"

Moving his mouth like a floundering fish, Merlin was stunned into silence. Keeping the whateveritwas pointed at him, Spiky-hair reached for a silver flask sitting on the table beside him then tossed its contents towards Merlin. Cold water hit him full in the face, soaking his hair and shirt in the process.

Forgetting all about the not-crossbow pointed at him, Merlin temporarily forgot the danger he was in. Was this man seriously attacking him with water? What was that supposed to accomplish? "What the hell was that for?" He asked incredulously.

"You might not be a demon, but I'm not stupid and I know you're not Sam." Spiky-hair advanced on him furiously. "Where is he?"

"What? I don't know what you're talking about." Merlin shouted back.

Faster than the young warlock would have thought possible without the use of magic, the other man dropped his strange weapon, grabbed Merlin's hand in a vice-like grip then pulled a silver blade from his pocket.

Seeing the knife, Merlin's eyes widened and he began to struggle, but the other man's grip had clamped onto him too tightly for him to break free. He reached inside instinctively for his magic, but he couldn't feel it – there was nothing there for him to grab onto. In a panic and defenseless without his powers, Merlin could only pull on his arm in vain while the blade glinted in the light and then dragged shallowly across the skin of his arm.

Expecting this to be the end – that he was about to die at the hand of a madman – Merlin squeezed his eyes shut and braced himself for the pain to come.

But after just a few moments with nothing more than a slight stinging sensation, Merlin's arm was released and he tentatively opened on eye, glancing down at his wound, which turned out to be nothing more than a superficial nick in his skin.

Merlin was relieved yet incensed at the same time, "Are you completely mad?" He shouted, "You can't just go around cutting people and tossing water in their faces for no good reason. What did I ever do to you?"

"I had to make sure you weren't a shapeshifter."

"A what?"

"It doesn't matter. I know you're not Sam. He doesn't talk like a freaking extra from Downton Abbey. So, I'm going to ask you just one more time ... who are you and what have you done with my brother?"

"Look …" Merlin begged, his hand stretching out, hoping to placate the man's insanity, "I honestly don't have the foggiest idea what you are raving about. All I know is that I was in the woods hunting with Arthur when something attacked us and the next thing I know there's this bright, white light and then I'm here in this gigantic body being assaulted by a lunatic."

"Where's Sam?"

"How should I know? I don't even know who he is!"

"Then who are you?"

"My name's Merlin."

"Merlin? Seriously?" Spiky hair asked disbelievingly, "Who the hell names their kid Merlin?"

A little offended, and incensed, Merlin responded crossly, "My mother, for one."

"Right. And I guess you're gonna tell me that you're from Camelot as well."

"Yes. Well ... actually, I'm from a village called Ealdor, but I live in Camelot now. How did you know?"

Spiky-hair paused and stared at Merlin like he was the lunatic, "Sure … and I'm Chuck Norris." The man stated rather sarcastically, though for what reason, Merlin didn't have any idea.

"Well … I would say that it is nice to meet you, Chuck Norris, but under the circumstances, I don't think that would be appropriate." Merlin countered with his own brand of sarcasm, letting his frustration take over his common sense as he stood and faced the other, possibly dangerous man, almost nose to nose. He'd taken enough of this man's hostility and he wasn't about to back down even if this Chuck guy was a man who was much like Arthur and used to being in charge. Merlin however, was used to such bluster from men who thought they were tougher than him and wasn't afraid to speak his mind if he had to. "What we need to do is think this thing out without you being a dollop-head about it all because I'm sure you want this 'Sam' back as much as I want to go home. Am I right?"

The two men glared at each other for a few tense moments, both gritting their teeth until Chuck Norris finally spit out a sharp, "I just want Sam back."

Merlin backed off a little, "Then let's work together, Chuck. It's the only way."

Green eyes drilled into Merlin's with a fierce intensity that didn't completely mask the fear and worry behind them, "Alright, fine. We'll work together on this, but let's get a few things straight, okay? First of all, you do as I say and you stick by me at all times, got it?"

Merlin breathed out in relief and nodded, feeling some of the tension ease between them, "Thank you, Chuck."

"And second of all quit calling me Chuck, my name is Dean."

"Uh … okay." Merlin wondered briefly why he hadn't he just said that in the first place.

"And lastly … if you try anything funny I'll -"

"What? You'll kill me?" Merlin interrupted somewhat flippantly. He didn't believe that for a second, "You wouldn't and you know it. I'm in Sam's body and if you kill me, he'll have nothing to come back to."

"That might be true, but I won't hesitate to knock you out and tie you up. It wouldn't be the first time I've had to do that to my own brother."

Merlin gulped, seeing the truth behind the other man's words and trying not to let his fear take over, pleading with the other man to understand that he was being sincere as well, "Okay … I promise, I'm not going to do anything. I just want to go home. You have to believe me, I didn't want or choose for this to happen and I think you'll have to agree that if I'm in Sam's body then it might be possible that he's in mine and is just as scared and confused as I am. Wouldn't you want whoever he wakes up to to be just a little more understanding than you are being right now?"

Dean ground his teeth together, "Fine, but you're still nine kinds of crazy and I'm not letting you out of my sight."

"Oh yes - I'm the crazy one here." Merlin muttered under his breath, "Now, can we please think like rational adults and find a way to reverse this? Clearly there must be some kind of magic involved with all of this."

"Magic? You mean like witchcraft?"

"Yeah ... I guess." Merlin approached the question he needed to ask next carefully, without directly telling this stranger that he had magic himself, "What do you know about it?"

"You'd be surprised how much."

"So, you've encountered magic before?"

"You could say that."

"Now I have to ask you something that you may not like, but is Sam a sorcerer? I promise I won't breathe a word to anyone if he does have magic, but we need to get to the bottom of this."

"What? No …" Dean denied vehemently, "Sam's not a sorcerer or a witch or anything like that. In fact, he's pretty much just the opposite. See … we're hunters." Dean pointed to himself, "we look for this kind of stuff and try to put a stop to it."

Feeling a knot form in his stomach, Merlin was going to have to make sure he tread carefully around this subject so as not to reveal just how involved with magic he was. The last thing he wanted was for Dean to hunt him down after he got back into his body once again.

"Then we'll just have to go back to what he was doing before all this happened." Merlin suggested warily, but trying to appear like wasn't shaking on the inside.

"Yeah … I've been going over that in my head and I think I actually know what caused this. Sam and I were in the storage vault, just looking at stuff. I went one way, he went the other and this next thing I know I hear a thud and I find him – or you rather, unconscious on the floor with this in your hand." Dean reached into pocket connected to his pants and pulled out a crystal the size of his hand. "He must have picked it up and it did this to you guys."

Merlin gasped involuntarily, his eyes wide as his breath hitched as recognition of the object hit him full in the face.

Dean narrowed his eyes at Merlin's reaction, "You know what this is, don't you?"

Heart in his throat, Merlin nodded slowly, backing away from it, fearful of what it might do next and remembering clearly what that stone had done to him last time he had seen it – the things he had seen happen in it and the horrible way all that it had shown him had come to pass. But he couldn't tell Dean about his personal encounter with it – not if he wanted to keep his secret safe from him. He would have to keep things as vague as possible.

"I've seen it once before. I only know that it's the Crystal of Neahtid. Arthur retrieved it from a group of Druids who had stolen it from the vaults and it was supposed to be locked away deep under Camelot after that. How did you get a hold of it?"

"As far as I know, it's been stored here for ages. Up until a few days ago, no one's been in this place for at least fifty years."

"Fifty years? But it was locked away only about a year or so ago—"

Merlin almost heard the clicking sounds in his head as he froze and truly took in his surroundings for the first time. Everything from the strange weapons on the wall to the light coming from above him without the use of fire and to Dean's strange clothes and accent, shouted at Merlin that he was even further away from home than he had first imagined. "Wait … are you trying to tell me I'm fifty years in the future?"

Dean looked at Merlin with a face that almost bordered on compassionate, "Dude … if you are who you say you are, which is still a bit much to swallow, and that you're Merlin - the Merlin from Camelot - the same one with King Arthur and round tables and all that crap, then it's been way, way more than fifty years … it's been more than a thousand years. And I hate to break it to you, but you're not in Camelot anymore, you're in Kansas."

TBC ...