Some Sam/Gen here. This is where it veers a bit from the episode. This story is also on AO3 under the same name apokfan if you want to read it there. Personally I think it's got a better format there.

Comrades and Brothers

The Winchester Side: Part 2

With the brothers…

Jared Padalecki's Residence

Sam knew his mouth was open in a gape, awe dripping in his voice with each word that managed to slip out to his brother, hands darting to touch every little thing he came across. He couldn't seem to stop himself, helpless with excitement, a pang of envy, a childish giddiness like a child on Christmas. Dean wasn't much better off. The idea of a house had always been a foreign concept to them, living a normal life an unreachable dream. Sam had one for a couple years, back during his Stanford days. Friends, families of friends that felt almost as close as Dean and dad ever were, a shared apartment, school, a part time job, driving in a car through familiar streets and seeing familiar faces instead of strange blurs, but now that felt like forever ago, a distant, remembered dream instead of fond memories. But here, this, this was now, touching everything, feeling the hard, flat, soft surfaces, pressing his hands on carpet, desk, vase, portrait, even a screen of a TV, it was real, it was here and now and he wasn't dreaming, wasn't going away. Sam was like a little boy in a candy store, trying out all the different flavors one at a time, or maybe all at the same time and he was sure he would never get tired. Never.

If dad could see this, if he was here, if he was touching and feeling and hearing and smelling everything we were, experiencing this…Sam let his thoughts trail off, unsure where it was heading, unsure of even how John would react if he was still alive, sent off to where Sam and Dean were now, standing speechless in some strange world where they were born with normal lives, safe and normal. Yeah. He paused at a large painting of himself, or of not-Sam, Jared Pada…whatever. He could see the crinkles in his face as he smiled, a cowboy hat covering his long hair. His hand touched the edge of the painting, ran over it hesitantly. It was strange to see himself like this, an actor, someone that grew up normal and safe, that didn't hunt things in the dark and save people like Sam and Dean did, that owned a house, maybe had a girlfriend that was still alive and that loved him and supported him. He scratched his head thoughtfully, turned to see his brother checking out the TV with a sort of awed reverence that only Dean would hold for a fucking TV. He rolled his eyes before he knew what he was doing, as Dean found the remote lodged into the pillows of the couch, flipped it on and started to channel surf.

"Dean," he called.

Dean didn't respond at first, held up a hand as if to say wait as he continued to happily search for a channel that was worth his time. He was probably trying to find some soap opera, maybe a bit of Dr. Sexy M.D. Sam turned his back and ignored the noise coming from the TV. He didn't feel like pointing out to Dean he was probably not going to find what he was looking for considering they were in another dimension, especially since where they came from, that was a TV show here.

His eyes swept the rest of the room instead, zeroed in on the pictures hanging near the door like trophies where all eyes could see once they walked into the house. It was of him obviously but he wasn't the only one in it this time and he wasn't dressed all weird like, like he was posing for some cheap college film audition, in some cowboy getup or cop uniform or something. He was in a simple button up shirt, the ones with the collars that usually went with a suit and tie, pressed pants and expensive dress shoes. On the right, hanging off his arm like she fitted perfectly to his side was a familiar smiling face. Except usually what he saw came off as a smirk, something smug, sinister, something that promised dark things beneath the surface. He gulped unsure if what he was seeing was real or not. Sam pinched himself hard on the arm just incase and had to hiss in surprised pain.

"Dean," he said, this time louder, a little more unsteady. He watched out of the corner of his eye as his brother finally sagged in defeat and clicked the TV off, disappointed to not have whatever it was he was searching for. Sam was secretly glad because he didn't want Dean to just sit there like a couch potato in front of the TV all day while Sam went nuts with worry over his recent discovery. He turned to Sam and shuffled over, hands shoved in his jeans like some depressed teenager. "Look at this." He pointed to the picture he had been staring at, unable to find any more words to express just what he was feeling, a mix of confusion, worry and anger.

Dean glanced at it, did a double take, almost staggering back into a table when he saw what Sam was pointing to. "Is that…" Dean's voice was hoarse, he trailed off uncertainly, cleared his throat and said again, "Is that Ruby, man?"

And it was. It totally was. Sam wished it wasn't, that it was just someone that looked really, really close to Ruby but there was no mistaking that face. Sam could go on hunting for decades and would still remember Ruby, the things she did to him, the things she forced him to feel, forced because she manipulated him, twisted him into some weapon for her own purposes without his knowing until it was too late, until he fucked things up. She would always be that sorry, conniving bitch that strung him along like a marionette, and sadly, he would always think of himself as the poor bastard that was gullible to fall for her sweet, twisted lies. Dean's jaw clenched.

"What's she doing in a picture with you?" he asked in a low voice. "Is she…are you two…in here?" He couldn't seem to finish his sentence, trailing off every time he tried to process the meaning behind it, the picture, the smiling, the hand holding, the clothes they wore. Sam saw the wedding ring on his finger and knew then he was totally fucked.

"I, uh, think we're a couple," Sam said so low he wondered if Dean could hear him or if his brother had to strain his ear. Either way it didn't matter because it wouldn't change a damn thing. He was married to Ruby, or not-Ruby, Ruby's actress.

"So not awkward," Dean muttered and walked stiffly to the couch before flopping down. After a moment he announced louder than necessary, "I need a drink."

"Me too."

Sam went to find the kitchen, fetched two beers from the fridge and dumped one in his brother's lap before opening the other for himself and chugging almost all of it down in one sitting. He let his gaze wander as his thoughts seemed to trail in one particular direction, which was downhill, because he was thinking about Ruby now, Ruby and him, the real Ruby. Wonder what it would be like if she was still alive suddenly, if he had gone dark side with her and Lucifer and the rest of them. They certainly wouldn't be standing here today. He swallowed the rest of the alcohol and put it down on the table, turned to see his brother staring up at him.

"You okay there, Sammy?" he asked once Sam caught him watching.

Sam wanted to say not really, no. He didn't though. He just rolled his eyes at Dean's show of concern and said, "Yeah, Dean. I'm fine."

Dean watched him for a moment longer, he looked like he wanted to call Sam out on his obvious lie but changed his mind and settled for a shrug and a chug of his own bottle of alcohol. "Whatever. Let's just go order the stuff we need for the spell and get the hell out of Dodge."

"Yeah." Sam couldn't agree more. He may be jealous of not-Sam's choice of home but he was certainly not jealous of his choice of wife. Suddenly Sam was just dying to get out of this place as quick as possible, hoped they could get the ingredients before they ran into any more people they didn't know but were expected to know, like not-Ruby. He shuddered at the thought of meeting her up close and personal, imagined her eyes dark with worry, a frown tilting her mouth, soft, small hands running chills up his arms as she tried to rub the pain and exhaustion away. He stopped trying to imagine anything else before his mind could take a turn he would regret later on. He didn't need any more images of not-Ruby thanks.

Sam went in search of a computer, a laptop, anything that had the internet on it. He found one upstairs in a bedroom with a queen sized bed. It was the only bed in the whole house so he suspected which room he came stumbling in and tried not to think of anything beyond that. Dean had come following Sam, claiming he was getting bored. As soon as he settled down to lay on the bed, however, he fell promptly asleep, loud snores and all. Sam tried to ignore him but it was getting harder and harder as the minutes ticked away. It was thirty minutes later, Sam had found the right website, made a phone call or two just to be sure and tapped in his credit card number to seal the purchase, that the door downstairs opened with a loud creak, alerting Sam to a presence other than him or Dean.

He startled, eyes wide and mouth open, feeling like a little kid caught red handed with his hand in a cookie jar right before dinner. "Jared? I'm home. Jare? Baby?" A feminine voice called out in the stillness.

Sam sat still, unable to move, sure he was supposed to answer back. The problem was he wasn't sure what he was supposed to say, how Jared would normally act. So far, he and Dean had been doing a piss poor job. He was actually quite surprised that the crew were only baffled at their new attitude adjustment instead of outright suspicious. But then Sam supposed they didn't really have reason to be suspicious. Not here, where doppelgangers and demons, shape shifters, all the supernatural were just myths and legends, made up tales torn from books and TV shows. It was sort of nice to be in this strange but relatively safe place.

"Jared? I know you're home. Cliff called me. It's not funny, you know, you not answering me like this. If this is another one of your god damn pranks, I swear, Jare," not-Ruby, Sam was certain it was her now, said, sounding annoyed, in a very familiar tone that told Sam she wasn't fucking around.

He decided then to man up and say something to assure her he wasn't messing with her before she decided to storm upstairs to find him. "Uh, sorry, I'm up here. Don't worry." He glanced at his sleeping brother, chewed his lip nervously, wondered what her relationship was with this Jensen Ackles guy. He rose to his feet and decided to head down the stairs incase it was a really bad relationship, no need to make anything more complicated than it needed to be after all, when not-Ruby could be heard coming up the stairs. Panicked, he said quickly, "Wait. I'm not dressed. Lemme get a shirt on real quick and then I'll come down to you."

There was a pause, and Sam could feel his hands sweat as he waited for her to swallow the lie, could practically imagine her on the stairs pondering over the request. Then he could hear her moving again but the steps were getting louder and closer instead of quieter and distant and Sam wasn't sure what to do now, flailing his arms around before deciding to take off his shirt so he wouldn't be caught in a lie. He heard her chuckle as she reached the top.

"You really think I'm going to pass up the opportunity to see you naked?" her voice sang out and she peeked her head in.

Sam felt himself blush, wondering how after all these years a woman can still get to him like that, with just the right kind of comment. He quirked his mouth into a wry grin. "Half naked you mean," he corrected her.

She smirked and practically sashayed into the room, her hips bouncing to the side with each step. Once she made it to him, he found himself reaching to steady her hips as she dropped into his lap suddenly, her legs straddling over him, thighs touching thighs. Sam wasn't sure what to do. It had been a long time since he had a woman on him, then his mind flashes to an image of his soulless self and Sam found he had to correct himself. It had been a long time since he had been with any woman that wasn't some prostitute, and even during the time when he didn't have a soul, he found those memories fuzzy so they couldn't count even if he wanted them to.

Not-Ruby was leaning in close, pressing her breasts to his chest, her hot breaths ghosting over his cheek and ear, and Sam tried to suppress the shudder that was going through him, tried to stop the quick stuttering intakes of breaths. "Aren't you going to say something, Jare?"

"I, uh," Sam was just at a loss for words right now, as not-Ruby wrapped her arms around his head, playing with his hair like she had a right to, which in her mind she did considering she married a Sam-look-a-like and thought Sam was him.

"'I, uh'? How eloquent of you, Jare," she said dryly. And she sounded so much like Ruby, the Ruby he knew, the one that was dead, the bitch that manipulated him with demon blood and an itch that crept uncomfortably beneath his skin where it didn't belong, that Sam couldn't help the soft gasp and the shove. Not-Ruby froze, then stumbled off him when he shoved at her again, this time a little harder.

"What's your problem?" she demanded as Sam screwed his eyes shut against the onslaught of aching memories. He didn't need this right now. He couldn't act suspicious. He drew in a shaky breath and opened his eyes. He tried for a reassuring smile once he got his shit together.

"Sorry, sorry, bad day at, uh, work," he said with a shrug.

Not-Ruby snorted but went back to sit on his lap again. "Right, is it Jensen again? I swear that guy's so full of himself sometimes. I don't understand how you can put up with him all the time, Jare."

Sam tensed a little. Dean was still in the room, thankfully the snoring had died down, but if not-Ruby turned her heard even a little, she would see him lying on the bed. "Yeah, uh, sometimes I'm not sure how I can either," Sam said, tilting her head so she was looking at him more.

She looked at him, an intensity in her face that made Sam's heart flutter in trepidation. Not-Ruby leaned up again so her hair was in his face, her lips pressed close to his ear, so that he could feel the soft brush of her lipsticks. "You wanna know what the remedy for a bad day is?"

He wanted to laugh because he suddenly knew where this was heading and for some reason, he just couldn't bring himself to care. He let her take hold of his face in both hands and kiss him, soft moist lips against his own, he could taste the lipsticks she had on. As he kissed her back, slow and unsure, like an awkward teenager would do for his first kiss, he wondered vaguely if this was considered cheating.

They didn't actually have sex. There was no way in hell Sam was going to have sex with a girl in the same room his brother was currently sleeping in. There was also no way in hell Sam was going to have sex with a girl that looked like Ruby, actress or not. Plus she was married. To himself in another lifetime, sure, but it wasn't really him and just because Sam hadn't been laid in what felt like forever didn't mean he would stoop so low in having sex with a married woman. So instead they made out a little.

Sam was shirtless, drenched in sweat that made him feel disgusting, hair in disarray and lips slightly swollen. But at least he still had his pants on. Not-Ruby, he still didn't catch his name, though with one search he could easily look it up if he wanted to which he didn't really, she was breathing heavier than he was, and somehow in the make out session, her blouse had come off.

"You know," Not-Ruby was murmuring into his chest, "you should be this aggressive when we're actually in bed." He could feel the curve of her mouth quirk against his skin as she grinned.

He chuckled. "Right. I definitely will." It was probably a lie. By that time, he hoped he and Dean were gone. As much as he ached to stay here and live a normal life, there really wasn't a home like a, well, home. And grudgingly Sam had to admit to himself he was good at hunting, he and Dean were good at that and they saved people, and if they were gone, who would pick up their slack? No people needed them and honestly Sam was probably not cut out for normal. He envied Jared Padalecki though.

Dean roused awake not long after not-Ruby left. It was luck not-Ruby didn't notice Dean at all while she was there to which Sam was grateful because that saved a lot of awkward moments. Dean, however, hadn't been quite as asleep as Sam thought because as soon as they heard the front door slam shut, apparently not-Ruby had some place she ought to be, something about saving otters or the likes, Sam didn't really pay much attention to the details, there was an engine roaring to life in the driveway and a moment later, not-Ruby was gone. And Dean, the sneaky bastard of a brother, burst into a full on laugh as he pointed a finger at Sam and made kissy faces and tried to smooch with a pillow.

Sam really didn't have a choice but to throw his sweaty, smelly shirt at him to try to get him to shut up. Of course it didn't work.