THE STAGES OF GRIEF

Summary: Sam had someone to help him through the loss of Dean, someone who too had just lost a brother - Dean Winchester.

Notes: This story is in five parts, and takes place in the SPN world during season 3.

Stage III – Bargaining
(a.k.a. Tit for Tat)

When Talley opened his mouth to comment on the silence, he got as far as 'What...' before Bobby held a hand to silence him. He turned to Paul, who tilted his head in the direction of the people named Winchester. Sam had his head slightly cocked to the side, as though he was trying to hear something. And Dean looked just as equally confused as he felt.

'So guys, what's with the mime act?'

Dean's comment was met with an abrupt 'Shh,' from Sam, which sent his eyebrows soaring. Dean didn't take to being dismissed without reason by someone who didn't outrank him, so instead he raised his voice and repeated, 'SO GUYS, WHAT'S WITH THE MIME ACT?'

Sam, who was scrutinising the corners of the room, scuffed the box in reply, hoping that Dean would get it. His attention was determined and patient and his stance held purpose. Dean's gun was perfectly trained in his hands, ready for the slightest–

When the hell did he get my gun? Dean looked down at his holster to see it was unclipped and empty. The comment died on his mouth, when he realised that would mean admitting that his gangly civvie of a prat brother being able to one-up him. Though, from the way he held said weapon and manoeuvred about the room, Dean was starting to rethink the civilian aspect of that description.

Instead he said. 'Come on Sam, you can't really tell me the puppet got up and walked away.'

Having not found anything in the immediate vicinity, Sam lowered the gun and sighed. 'No, it just turned invisible.'

'Cool.'

Sam glared at Dean.

'Hey, it's more believable than a living puppet.'

'And is that more believable than alternate realities?'

'...No.'

'Dean,' Sam was exasperated. Dean was being stubborn and they both knew it. It was a well-worn path they had both walked down before, and the memories it was stirring caused them both to look away.

'Okay, say this marionette was... alive,' Stanson postulated, 'What kind of impact are we looking at by letting it loose?'

Bobby and Sam shared a worried glance.

Talley saw it and misinterpreted. 'It can't really turn us into chipmunks, can it?'

He was ignored.

'We don't know,' Bobby said at length. 'But John wouldn't've put it in a box without good reason. So we find it and put it back 'fore we get the chance to find out.'

Dean considered the situation. Yeah, they could track down a puppet. After all, it couldn't have gotten far.

Stanson flickered out of existence.

Oh, right. That. 'Stanson, you get that mirror working. Talley, cover Stanson. And I'll...' He couldn't believe he was actually saying this, 'Go hunt down Sid.'

Stanson looked at him. 'Sid's a dummy.'

'So?'

'So, the thing in the case was a marionette. It's more like... Pinocchio.'

'Evil Pinocchio,' Sam added, a slight tinge colouring his voice.

'A maria... I don't know you.' He turned to Sam and held out his hand.

A beat, and Sam returned Dean's gun. He then retrieved the pieces of his own that Dean had scattered amongst the locker.

Dean watched Sam reassemble the weapon proficiently. 'So, uhh... you do this sort of thing often?'

'About once a week,' Sam replied. 'Usually on a Thursday.' He spared a glance in Dean's direction. 'Your fault.'

'What? My fault? How can it be my fault? I'm not even...' from this universe. That's what he meant to say. But somewhere between his brain and his mouth something got lost in translation. What he ended up saying was 'Alive.'

Sam paused, his voice was unnaturally even. 'What makes you think that?'

'Stanson's got the flickers because the universe can't handle two of him. It hasn't happened to me or Talley yet, and it doesn't exactly take a degree in astrophysics to figure out why.'

Sam nodded and turned away to check in a cabinet. Dean covered him.

It was empty.

As Sam shut the doors, Dean spoke up. 'Hey, what hap... I mean, can I ask-'

'You were torn apart by hellhounds.'

Dean stopped short. 'Hellhounds?'

'Yeah. Hounds, from Hell.' Sam moved onto the locker nearby, not meeting his eyes.

Dean considered it. 'That sounds... kinda cool.'

Sam's hand dropped from the handle as he turned to Dean. 'Torn apart,' he echoed.

'Well, yeah,' Dean scoffed. 'But it sure as hell beats...'

When he didn't answer, Sam persisted. 'Beats what?'

'A drunk-driver.'

Sam silently considered his own fate. 'No, it doesn't.'

'What? Yes it does!'

Sam shook his head. 'I'm sorry, but no.'

'Look, if you want a second opinion I'll ask Stanson. He'll back me up on this, I'm sure.'

Sam sent an indiscernible look Stanson's way, before turning back to the task at hand. 'Doesn't matter.'

Dean frowned at the change in demeanour, but decided not to pursue it. His Sam never told him what was up anyway. If he stopped to think about it, he would have to concede that it was because he never asked. Still, they were on alright ground before, and Dean wanted that open – if somewhat tense – conversation back. This Sam, he noticed, didn't talk to him like he was an idiot. He got exasperated at times, but didn't have that holier-than-thou attitude that came with a law degree.

Before he got the chance to say anything, Sam signalled that he was about to open the locker.

Three. Two. One.

Sam pulled open the door and Dean faced the fourth most unbelievable thing he'd ever seen (the second to happen today). It was a puppet – dummy – mario-whatever – and it was lunging for him. Dean whipped his gun up and fired two shots into the head and torso. The first took off its nose, and the second went clean through its non-existent heart... And into Sam's leg.

'Shit.'

The second's distraction was enough for the marionette to skitter into the shadows of the room. Dean ignored it and ran for Sam. He slid to the floor next to his brother and began checking his wound.

Sam noticed the steadily growing panic on Dean's face and tried to calm him. 'Dean, it went clean through. I'll be fine… Dean? Dean!'

Dean blinked. 'You hit me.'

'Yeah, well you shot me. We're even.'

That drew his attention back to Sam's leg. 'We gotta get you to a hospital.'

'I'm alright, Dean.'

'You don't know that.'

'Yeah, I do.'

'No you don't, Sam! I gotta… I gotta…'

'Dean!'

'YOU'RE NOT GONNA DIE SAM!'

'You're right, I'm not.' He was quiet, but he got the point across.

Dean stared into his eyes, searching for something. Sam felt compelled to hold his gaze until he found whatever it was he was looking for. In the background, he heard Bobby shepherding the others away and was thankful. He turned his attention back to Dean, who was doing something he didn't even do when he died: he was crying.

'I'm sorry, Sam.'

Sam frowned. 'I'm fine, really. This isn't the first time I've been shot.'

Dean looked as though he was going to say something. But as the seconds ticked on, he shut his mouth and wiped his eyes. When he looked back up the mask was in place, and aside from some residual red rimming his eyes, Sam would never know.

One sniff and then he pulled a bandage from one of the pockets, all business.

As he tended to Sam's wound the best he could, Sam was appraising his gear. 'They sure load you up, don't they?'

'Gotta be prepared, Sam.'

Sam nodded to his vest pouches. 'You have candy in one of those, don't you?'

'What? No.'

'Dean.'

'I don't have any.'

'They send you on a mission to an alternate reality, load you up like a pack mule and you don't get rations?'

''Course we get rations.' He tied off the temporary bandage. 'You'll have to get this stitched up, I don't have the supplies.'

Sam rolled down his jeans. 'Yeah, I'll do it later. Give us some candy.'

'I already told you I don't have any.'

'You just said you did.'

'No, I said I have rations. Rations.' He sounded it out.

Sam just looked at him like he knew exactly which pocket Dean's Twinkie was in, and yes, he knew they were Twinkies too. Dean sighed and pulled one out of his pocket.

'Thanks.' Sam fiddled with it, but didn't open it. He did accept Dean's help up, though.

'Well?'

'Well what?'

'Aren't you going to eat it?'

'Oh, no.' He looked sheepish. 'I just wanted to see if you would.'

Dean snatched it back, muttering under his breath, 'Bitch.'

'Jerk.'

The reply was immediate, and Dean paused to consider him. 'Wuss.'

The next retort wasn't as fast, as though he wasn't used to it going this far. '…Oprah-lover.'

'What?'

'You heard me.'

Dean surreptitiously checked that his team hadn't heard, before he knocked Sam's injured leg. It wasn't hard, but it still had the desired effect.

'Ow!'

'See, pansy.'

'I'm gonna kick your ass, Dean.'

'Yeah, how you gonna manage that, Limpy?'

Dean stopped. This was usually the point where he'd gone too far and Sam would start huffing and then ignore him until he apologised. Instead Sam was smiling. It was a sad, yet happy smile. It was the smile people had in mind when they said, I'm so happy I could cry. It made Dean uncomfortable, so he added,

'Dude, no matter what reality I go to, you're still a girl.'

Sam held his gaze, and then slowly raised Dean's Twinkie into view. He opened it slowly and took a large bite.

Normally he wouldn't have gotten that far, but Dean was still surprised his brother had managed to lift it right out of his hands. Twice now! 'Klepto.'

Sam swallowed his bite and inspected the wrapper. His tone was light, conversational. 'You taught me, you know.'

'I'm all for inter-relatial brotherly bonding, but do you think we can get back to work?' Bobby was staring at them across the room. He looked annoyed, and Dean let Sam field this one while he checked on his team.

They were huddled by the mirror and pretending they hadn't heard absolutely everything there was to hear in this cramped storage room.

'Anything?'

'Not yet, sir. We'll let you know when we do,' Stanson replied. 'That is unless you're watching Oprah, of course. Wouldn't want to disturb you, sir.'

Dean filed away a reminder to get back at Stanson and instead gave him a once over. 'And how are you going?'

'I'll be better when we get home, sir.'

Dean looked to the mirror. 'Can't you just go there and come right back?'

Stanson talked slowly. 'I'd have to find it first, sir.'

'No, there,' He pointed to the reality currently showing on the mirror. It was the SGC, but no one was watching from the other side. 'Didn't you say I had to wait for two hours when I was being cleared, because every time I kept going back and forth it reset the time-frame?'

Stanson looked between his C/O and the mirror, recognition alight in his eyes. 'Yes sir, I did.'

'Then go there, come back and you should have another couple of hours of searching without impending non-existence.'

'Actually, because I have already experienced Entropic Cascade Failure in this universe, it is likely that the time before the first ECF attack will be noticeably sooner as this reality will be more attuned to my presence and-'

Dean held up a hand. 'Will it help at all?'

Stanson considered. 'Yes sir.'

'Then do it Stanson,' He ordered.

Stanson passed the remote to Talley and then passed to the mirror. He was back in a jiffy. Of course Dean didn't say that for fear that Stanson would actually tell him the scientific length of a jiffy, and he didn't need to know that right now, or ever.

Sam's presence was just over his shoulder, and Dean threw a quick 'Get back to work,' before turning around. 'You alright?' He nodded to Sam's leg.

'Fine.'

'You sure you don't want to…' his jaw was set in a stubborn expression that Dean unfortunately knew all too well. 'Nevermind.'

He slid back into his soldier zone as he surveyed the room. It was something he hadn't actually done a whole lot since his brother – when did he become his brother and not Other Sam? – had shown up. Because any silence ultimately led to thoughts he was trying to avoid and crap he was doing it again.

He let out a sigh and tried to focus again. Sweeping about the room, he kept his eyes trained for the slightest movement. He didn't hear anything, not even his brother's footsteps. That's because dead people don't make noise.

The thought sprung up before he could stop it, and he tried to brush it away. When images of a funeral plot and a crying widow appeared before his eyes, he turned his head to Sam just long enough to quell them.

He must have stared longer than he thought because without turning to check, Sam asked, 'What?'

Fumbling for a reply, he said, 'Quiet bastard, isn't he?'

'Gone bastard, is more like it.'

At that, they both looked to Bobby, who was standing by the open door with a weary sigh.

Dean idly wondered if it was because his last mission was spent with SG-1, or it was just something that all colonels shared because, as he looked out the open door, only one thing came to mind,

'Oh, for crying out loud!'

Stage III/A – Assessing Your Position

'So...' Dean sighed. 'Evil Pinocchio.'

'Looks like,' Sam agreed. And that was the end of that.

They had spent the last five minutes searching the rest of the floor for the damned thing. Bobby had straightened his cap and disappeared to find more information on what they were facing. Dean seriously doubted there was a Complete Idiot's Guide to Puppets, or Living Dummies for Dummies that he could just look up, but Sam had been confident that Bobby would be able to drum up something useful.

It was at that point Dean had scoffed and remarked that it's a puppet, Sam. What else do you need to know except that it's alive and flammable? He had replied with something typically geeky about 'knowing thy enemy' - Dean wasn't really sure. He'd gone off on his own track, contemplating what allowances he would concede where Pinocchio was concerned. If it knew where gold was buried, that would be handy to know. Or, if it could shoot lasers out of its eyes - definitely something to make a note of. Though if did have laser vision, I don't see why it's the one hiding...

'Dean!'

'What?' He spun around, looking for any disturbances or causes for alarm. Instead he found a brother who was staring at him impassively. After a beat, Sam slowly raised his eyebrow.

Dean realised he'd just been had and nonchalantly lowered his arms as though his freak-out wasn't anything worth commenting on. 'You find anything?'

Sam stared a moment longer before he slowly drawled out a 'No.'

'Then quit dawdling.' He continued down the corridor, and Sam fell into step with him.

'Dawdling?'

'It means loitering. To dally, linger...'

'I know what it means I just... I'm just wondering why you chose that particular word.'

'Geardon.'

'What?'

'High school. You don't remember...' He stopped. 'Did you go to Lawrence High?'

'No, actually.'

'Actually?'

'It was one of the few schools we didn't go to.'

'Oh.' They started walking again. 'Travel a lot?'

'Yeah, Dad... Dad thought it was best.' And I thought he was wrong. Still do.

'That explains how he has a locker in Buffalo.' He laughed. 'Must have driven Mom nuts.'

Sam didn't want to reveal that case of bad news when the opportunity to hear about the mother he never knew was right there, so he bit his tongue. 'What?'

'You know, After growing up with Grandma and Grandpa she said she'd never leave home.'

'Howso?'

He frowned. 'She's not like that here?'

'No.'

'Jesus. Everything's different. You are still Sam, though – right?'

'No, actually I'm Jimmy. Jimmy Page.'

Dean was set to reply when the name actually registered. Instead he smiled in approval. 'Okay Samantha, but fair's fair. I tell you about my Mom and you tell me about yours – deal?'

Sam felt bad that he was short-changing his brother, but he agreed non-the-less.

'Okay, well you know how Grandpa and Grandma were in the air force, yeah?'

'Err, yeah.'

'Well they kept moving depending on their assignments and as a result Mom grew up in like a dozen different houses. When she met Dad and settled down she swore she was never gonna leave the house.' Dean's mouth twisted into a wry smile. 'I remember Dad trying to convince her to move house once and she stuck her feet in. Drilled the furniture into the ground to prove the point.'

Sam smiled. 'That's... determined.'

'Yeah, well you know Mom.' He clapped Sam on the shoulder. 'Okay, your turn. What's Alterna-Mom like?'

The sound of their footsteps was deafening in the wake of the conversation.

'Sam?'

'Hmm? Oh, She... She's...'

Dean took the hint. 'Oh. Hey, forget I asked.'

They walked on in silence, checking that each locker was in fact locked, and keeping an eye out for the marionette. They got to the service elevator, and Sam said they should go down; using the logic that it would want to get as far away as possible.

The uncomfortable silence became stifling in smaller confines, so Sam tried for conversation again. 'So, Gearun?'

'Huh?'

'You were talking about someone from High School.'

'Oh right, Geardon. English teacher. Had him in Sophomore.' Dean struggled to recall why he had brought him up. 'He... Oh yeah, he used to keep trying to come up with words for my tardiness, being an English teacher and all. One day he ran out of synonyms and just stood there all agitated and I suggested dawdle and he got so flustered that I one-upped him he let me off the hook.' Dean frowned. 'And then busted me for smoking. The hypocrite.' Dean snapped out of his memory. 'Anyway, the point was that from then on if anyone was loitering the word anyone ever used was dawdle.'

'Ah.'

'Yeah.'

Sam noted that the conversation didn't seem to help the uncomfortable silence at all, as it swooped back in instantly. He tried to think of something else to fill the void when Dean beat him to it.

'Can I ask you something?'

'Sure.'

'What am I doing? I mean, what did I used to do? Before I was killed... by hellhounds.'

'Pretty much what we're doing now. Hunting.'

'We're... hunting?'

Sam nodded. 'The marionette. We hunt Supernatural things: spirits mostly. Though recently there's been a lot of demons on the rise.'

'Demons.'

'Yeah.'

'Demons.'

'...Yeah.'

'How the hell do you kill a demon?'

'It's hard. We just send them back to Hell, mostly.'

'Hell.' Dean echoed.

'Yeah.'

'Hell's real.'

You're there right now, Sam swallowed. 'Yeah.'

'So, it's not a planet?'

'What?'

'Nevermind.' Dean shrugged it off. 'So I hunt ghosts and demons and... Werewolves? Vampires?'

'They're not as common as you'd think, but yeah, we've taken down a few.'

'Man, I am badass.' Dean smiled. 'Wait, you said we.'

'Yeah, we.'

'So you...' He trailed off.

'What?'

'You didn't go to Stanford.' He finished.

'No, I did.' And my girlfriend got pinned to the ceiling and burned alive. That wasn't really something he wanted to talk about. '...Not.'

If Dean found something in Sam's reply he didn't say, instead asking. 'And Dad knows about all this, too? What with the locker and curses and stuff.'

Sam looked away. 'Yeah, Dad knows.'

'Maybe we should get him here then, think he'd be able to help...?'

'He's...' Dead too. But Sam didn't want Dean looking at him like he was the most kicked puppy in the world, so he said, '...busy with a job, besides it would look weird seeing you considering you're dead.'

'Yeah, but you took it alright, surely he'd be able to-'

Sam cut him off. 'Trust me on this. It's better if we don't.'

Dean stared into his eyes for a minute, before relenting. 'Alright.'

They left the confines of the elevator and Sam thought he'd finally found a safe line of conversation.

'So, you're a Colonel?''

'Yeah...' The smile on Dean's face hinted at something more.

'Aren't you a little young?'

Dean smiled in that smug way of his and pointed to himself. 'Awesome.'

Sam rolled his eyes and Dean changed the topic. 'So what's up with you and Talley?'

'What?'

'You know him, don't you?'

'What makes you say that?'

'You can't hate someone you don't know.'

'He killed me.'

'Oh.' He stood back as Sam opened the door to outside. We're out already? 'You look alright for a dead guy. Smell a little though.'

'Thanks, Dean.'

'Seriously, I know it might go against the zombie code, but consider having a shower.'

They looked around the vacant building, ears and eyes peeled for any sounds of movement.

'So, what do we do when we find it?' Dean asked, turning slowly in a circle.

Sam shrugged. 'Grab it and stuff it in a bag.'

'Damn, I left my bag in my other reality.' Dean drawled. 'Wait, what happened to the whole 'it's cursed' thing?'

'Well, considering we don't know exactly what it does, we can't just let it run loose to cause havoc. Besides, we've got a bag in the trunk.'

'We do?' Dean asked.

'I do.' Sam amended. 'This way.'

Dean followed Sam back to where the Impala was parked and stopped in surprise. 'Dude, you got Dad's car?' He stopped and surveyed it as Sam went to the trunk, running a hand along the roof. 'Hunh.'

'What?'

'Nothing, just the little things.' At Sam's look he pointed to the mirrors. 'Different mirrors.'

'It's better than no mirrors.'

'I suppose, but still it's... Did you crash Dad's car?!'

'What? No.' He'd never live it down. From the way Dean was eyeing the car Sam could tell that alternate reality or not, Dean was still in love with the thing.

'Sam...'

'You crashed it.'

'I crashed it?' He looked horrified.

'Yeah, there was this whole thing with a demon and he kind of drove a semi into it.'

'Oh. But it wasn't my fault, right?'

'Yes Dean, even though you were driving it wasn't your fault.' Sam had to remember that piece of information for the next time his Dean brought up the incident...

'Hey Sam, you alright?'

'What?' How did Dean suddenly materialise in front of him? 'Yeah, I'm fine.'

'You sure?'

'Yeah, I'm good.' He started to rummage through the trunk for a spare duffel.

'O-kaaay.' Clearly Dean wasn't buying it. But thankfully he wasn't pushing it either. He looked down to the trunk. 'Hey, isn't the trunk supposed to be bigger?'

As he leant down to inspect he caught sight of the gap between the false bottom and the edge of the car. Sam watched as he shoved a bag over to lift it up.

'Woah. That's...' he looked over the weapons cache. '...What is that?'

'Rock salt.'

Dean raised an eyebrow.

'It deters spirits and demons.'

'Okay.' He spotted the rifle. 'Nice.'

'You done?' Sam still needed to get a duffel, and it was a little hard to do while Dean was eyeing the weapons with child-like glee. When he finished perusing them he stood back and let Sam have access again.

Just as he slammed the lid closed – Dean looked ready reprimand but stopped as though it wasn't his place – Sam's phone started to ring. He checked the display and mouthed Bobby to Dean before answering.

It took Dean a few seconds to remember who Bobby was, and then let Sam field the call in private whilst he meandered around the parking lot. He managed to make his way back just as Sam hanged up.

'What's up?' He asked as Sam started for the driver-side door.

'We gotta hurry. Bobby says it goes for the nearest family and tries to take the child's place.'

'So it really is Evil Pinocchio.' Dean commented.

'Huh?'

'It wants to be a real boy.' Dean elaborated.

'Yeah, I guess. Bobby said that-' he stopped as the key went into the lock. 'Hey, you wanna drive?'

Dean looked over the Impala with bright eyes. 'You serious?'

Sam tossed him the keys in answer and swapped sides with him. By the time they shut the doors in unison they were both smiling. Dean because he was clearly enjoying the prospect of driving the Impala, and Sam because he had missed this.

'She's yours, you know.' Sam said quietly.

'What?'

'The Impala was yours.'

'Sweet.' He replied. 'Yeah, Dad offered me – my Dad – offered me the other Impala but I didn't have enough leave to keep her up, and they won't let me take her offworld, so...'

'Offworld?'

'Abroad.'

'Ah. Would probably be a bit of a liability anyway.'

'Yeah,' Dean agreed, a scenario playing out in his head that wasn't going the way he'd like it to. He blinked it away. 'So, where to Jeeves?'

'Not sure. Probably aim for somewhere crowded but passing as many homes as we can along the way?' Sam suggested.

'Lay on, McDuff.' Dean kicked the engine over. 'What?'

Sam turned back to retrieve his laptop. 'Nothing, you're just not much of a Shakespeare enthusiast in this reality.'

'Thank God for something similar.'

'Then how exactly do you know MacBeth?'

'Lucy Miller needed a study partner,' Dean smiled fondly.

Sam snorted. 'Something similar...'

As soon as Sam pulled up a map they discussed a likely direction and headed out. Sam argued that they should go east, as the closest houses were that way. Dean negated and said north, because the puppet wouldn't know that, and north was the direction that looked like it had the most opportunities for cover from the vantage point of the locker. In the end Sam caved and they headed out.

Being in the industrial estate, they had a while until they had to tone up the searching. Dean decided to find out what else Bobby said.

'Oh, he said that the marionette's cursed in the sense that it was once a boy, who was turned into a marionette-'

'-Could've figured that out on my own-'

'-And if he finds a boy, they take his place.' Sam ploughed on.

'Wait, so 'take his place' as in, they become the marionette?'

'And the marionette lives out the rest of the child's life.' Sam nodded.

'Won't the parents notice that he's not their son?'

'Apparently can mimic the appearance of the person whose life he's taking. Take a left.'

'Yeah, but still – don't you think they'd notice the kid suddenly acting different?'

'Well, what are they going to do about it? Unless they know about the supernatural, they're more likely to rationalise it away as some sort of personality disorder or... something. I mean, wouldn't you?'

'After I made sure he didn't have a snake living inside him,' Dean muttered.

'What?'

Dean cleared his throat. 'So how do we kill it?'

'Bobby's working on it. He says there's no reason we can't catch it, though.'

'Uh-huh. What's up with Bobby?'

'Bobby's... Bobby.' Sam fumbled at the abrupt change of topic. 'He's a hunter as well.'

'That all?'

'And a friend. Practically family.'

Dean took all this in. 'Suspicious bastard though, isn't he?'

'You don't get to be Bobby's age in this business without it. Left again.'

'Case in point – me.' Dean's laugh died out when he realised Sam didn't think it was funny.

They drove in silence for the next few minutes, with Sam only speaking to give Dean directions.

'Hey, Sam?'

Sam looked up.

'What if we got it wrong? What if the puppet really did go east? What happens then?'

'An innocent boy gets turned into a marionette.'

'So there's nothing else can we can do. Like, undo it or something?'

'You can't undo a curse.' Sam explained. 'You can just get out of its way.'

'But what about the original kid – puppet – whatever?'

'What about him?'

'You said he was a kid once too. So we're just gonna kill him? Poor bastard's been wood for God knows how long. That's gotta have some kind of effect on him.' He frowned. 'That sounded a little dirty.'

'There's nothing we can do. His family has probably been long dead, and like it or not, we have to stop him from putting another child through his fate. There isn't another way around it.' Sam felt a weird jolt of role-reversal. Usually he was the one looking for a happy ending and Dean had to lay down the cold fact that you couldn't save everyone.

'That sucks.'

'Yeah.'

Another lull was just about to descend in the car when Dean's radio crackled.

'Colonel Winchester, this is Stargate Command. Please respond.'

Sam looked up at the mention of Stargate, but Dean answered before he could get a word in. 'This is Winchester.'

'Winchester, you have been ordered to return to the SGC immediately. Your team has already done so.'

'Yeah, about that. See, there's a bit of a problem here that we caused, and I figured the least I could-'

'Major Stanson has informed us of the situation and the directive still stands. Return to the SGC A-sap.'

'But-'

'That's an order, Colonel.'

Dean sighed. 'Yes, sir. Winchester out.' He pulled over to the side of the road and killed the engine. 'Look, sorry about this. I wish I could stay and help but...' He shrugged.

'You don't have to go.'

'Yes I do, unless I want a court marshal.'

'But – you just got here!'

Dean smiled at Sam and then opened the door.

Sam bolted from his side to meet him. 'I can give you a lift back...?' He offered.

'Thanks, but you have to save the day.' He nodded in the other direction.

They stared each other down for a minute before Dean smiled again. 'Take care, Sam.'

'It's Sammy.' Sam replied, and then pulled him in for a hug.

When they broke, Dean started back towards the locker without looking back.

Sam watched as his brother left, presumably forever, simply because someone told him to. He blinked away a tear. 'Something familiar.' He echoed, before he got in the car and drove in the other direction.

Stage III/B – Bringing a New Player to the Table

Sergeant Bates was there to greet Dean when he returned to the locker, and through the mirror he could spy Stanson waiting on the other side. He looked slightly apprehensive and Dean knew him well enough to know what it meant.

'Why do I get the feeling that I'm about to get some news I really don't want to be hearing?' He muttered.

'I don't know, sir. I was only told to retrieve you.' Bates answered.

'Mission accomplished then,' Dean clapped him on the back at the same time he reached out to the mirror. Whilst Bates was getting his new bearings, Dean turned to Paul. 'Spill.'

Stanson shifted uncomfortably. 'Well, nothing has been confirmed, but...' From Dean's impatient glare he got the hint that he wouldn't find a way around delivering the news. 'They want to scrub the mission.'

Dean glanced back to the mirror where his brother was out hunting down some kind of evil puppet all by himself. That didn't bother Dean so much as weird him out. But considering all that happened in the last – he checked his watch – four hours (Really? Was that all?), he just wasn't ready to say goodbye to Sam just yet. Especially considering he didn't actually get to say goodbye.

He turned back to Stanson who, from the look on his face, had already figured it out before Dean did. He offered a sympathetic smile. 'Debriefing is in thirty minutes. Is that enough time for you to pull out a miracle?'

'It'll have to be.' Dean replied. 'Thanks, Paul.'

'Don't mention it.'

After a quick check-up in the infirmary, Dean darted into the showers and got changed. On his way out he happened to run into his miracle.

'Jack.'

O'Neill stopped short. 'Winchester. Heard about your brother, that's tough.'

Dean had long ago stopped being surprised at Jack's ability to hear things before they even made it to the grapevine. Instead he jumped right into it. 'Jack, I need a favour.'

'Sure.' The answer was instinctual, so he had to add a few addendums. 'Wait, it doesn't involve science, does it? Some old ruins? Something I really don't want to be doing?'

Dean didn't actually consider his answer, he just said no because he knew it was the quickest way to get Jack to agree.

'Then sure, what's up?'

'It's, well... It's about Sam.'

Something unreadable crossed O'Neill's face. 'What about her?'

'I – wait, her?' Realisation dawned. 'Oh, no I mean my brother Sam.'

'Oh.' Jack seemed to relax a little. 'I thought that was all sorted.'

'Not really.'

'George didn't give you time to go see him and say goodbye?'

'No.'

Dean was right for banking on Jack seeing his plight, because at that answer, he seemed genuinely sincere. 'Really? That doesn't sound like the General we all know and impersonate. Are you sure?'

'Not entirely. I haven't actually spoken to him yet, but Paul gave me a heads up that he's looking to decline my request.'

O'Neills' eyebrows scrunched together. 'Paul...?'

'Stanson.'

'Right.'

Dean suspected Jack had no idea who Stanson was, but he wasn't about to call him on it.

'So you want me to... do what exactly?'

Dean shrugged. 'Back me up?'

'Yeah. Sure. Of course.' Jack peered into his eyes. 'You sure you're okay?'

'Fine.' Dean replied. 'Or I will be when I get the go-ahead.'

Jack fell into step with Dean as they headed up to the briefing room. 'Don't worry. If there's one thing I know about Hammond, it's that he's a softie at heart.'

.-.-.

Jack lounged in one of the chairs and began to spin it back and forth to amuse himself while he waited. Dean remained standing, even after General Hammond had taken his seat. He jumped in before Hammond could speak. 'Sir, permission to-'

'Denied.'

'But sir-'

'Son, I think you need to hear what I have to say.'

Dean reluctantly took a seat.

'Now, given your recent circumstances, and Major Stanson's report, I'm going to have to decline your request to return to see your brother.'

'But sir-'

'I know you may feel responsible for him, but it's the opinion of both myself and Dr. Fraser that allowing you to return would be unhealthy to your grieving process.' When Dean looked ready to speak, Hammond continued. 'If you were to return, you would most likely form an attachment to your brother which could very well compromise your judgement, do you not agree?'

Dean did, he really did. It was why he couldn't say anything.

Thankfully Jack didn't suffer the same problem. 'Oh, for crying out loud! General, with all due respect, that is ridiculous!'

George turned to Jack as though he had just registered his presence. 'Colonel, I wasn't aware you were informed of the situation.'

'Yeah, well, I am. And I gotta say that whole excuse you've got going is a load of crock.' He gestured to Dean. 'There is no man I know who is more capable of completing a mission without falling, um...' He clicked his fingers, 'Without succumbing to distraction. Except for Teal'c, but he doesn't really count.' When Hammond looked ready to retort, Jack steamrolled over the top, knowing he'd already overstepped his bounds so he might as well get it all in while he could. 'And when something like this happens, you need closure. I don't care who you are, you're gonna need closure. And really, what better way is there to get it?'

General Hammond wasn't the only one considering Jacks' words after that statement. Though, Dean doubted the General had the same train of thought as he did. He hoped not, because unless he was mistaken, Dean was beginning to suspect that for once Jack wasn't up to date with the inner workings of the SGC, and had mistook Dean's failed request to return through the Quantum Mirror as a rebuttal of shore leave to visit his brother's grave (granted, that was also something he had yet to do). It certainly would explain why he'd reacted so vehemently on his behalf.

Come to think of it, Dean couldn't recall anything Jack had said that indicated he knew Dean had just returned from an alternate reality. Normally there would be jokes at the very least. He hoped Hammond didn't pick up on that, though.

When he had finished giving Jack's rant its due, the General in question turned to him. 'Colonel, are you sure you want to do this?'

Dean didn't even need to think. 'Yes sir.'

'You are aware that I can't allow Major Stanson and Sergeant Talley to accompany you, considering the circumstances.'

Dean noticed Jack starting to look confused, so he quickly replied. 'Yes sir.'

Hammond then turned to Jack who, after a minute's confusion, got the hint. 'Hey, if it's a case of needing a babysitter – and personally I don't see why he would – I'd be more than happy to volunteer.'

'Do you have the time?'

Jack waved a hand. 'Sure. P5X-2...something was a bust. Some weird-looking plants but nothing else, I got the time.'

George sighed. 'Very well. Assemble SG-1 and be prepared to go at 1500 hours.' With that, he stood and left.

A beat later, Jack turned to Dean. 'Wait, why do I have to assemble the team?'

Dean chewed his lip for a second before he reached over the table and slid Stanson's mission folder in front of Jack. 'Thanks, Jack. Really.'

And then he bolted before Jack could back out.

Stage III/C – Bluffing

'You so owe me for this.'

'Yeah, I know.'

'No, I mean really owe me. You have to bail me out the next five hundred times Daniel starts going on about something boring.'

'Hey!'

Jack just shrugged to say that was what he thought about it, and he couldn't change it so why bother? Daniel's sigh said he should have known better than to expect otherwise.

Dean ignored them both in order to make sure that Sam hadn't returned whilst he was gone. He had taken a lot longer to relocate this reality than he would have liked. Not to mention the next few hours Carter had spent trying to create some sort of device that would hopefully avert the Entropic Cascade Failure process. At least that's what he thought she said, he had tuned out when she started talking science.

So here they were, three days and fourteen hours after the mission had originally been given a go, ready to move out once the clock ticked over two hours and they had confirmation Carter's device worked.

In the meantime Dean was ascertaining nothing was out of place since his last visit, and trying to formulate a way to get in contact with his brother.

'So, what about this other brother of yours? Any way we can get in touch with him?' Jack called out as he picked at the skull that housed the shotgun.

'I'm working on it.'

'Good, good.' Jack left the bone alone and looked around the room. 'Have you thought of, I dunno, giving him a call?'

Well, there was the phone. There was also the slight problem of him not having his brother's number. And a flash from earlier reminded him that calling directory assistance and asking for Sam Winchester might not go as well as planned.

'I don't think that's an option,' Dean answered.

'Right, because that would be too easy.' Dean heard Jack mutter. 'Should've known.'

Jack went back to poking and prodding this and that. Daniel had found the inscriptions on the boxes fascinating and Dean had to remind him not to open them. Teal'c, who still looked military despite the street clothes they'd given him, was surveying the room in that stoic way of his. And Carter was shifting her gaze between her clock and the device attached to her other wrist.

'Sir, it appears the CEEC-F works, we are free to move around in this reality without threat of experiencing Entropic Cascade Failure.'

'That just leaves all those other threats to watch out for.' Jack said dryly. 'Like puppets. And bones.' He looked at the skull one more time. 'Alright.' He sighed. 'Let's get ready to move out.'

While Carter and Dean checked their weapons before concealing them under their clothing – this was a plain clothed op. after all – Jack stepped back over to the mirror and popped back into their reality. 'Alright, we'll be back by eleven, and remember: no wild parties. I don't want to have to come back to find I have to call your mothers to come and get you.'

Sergeant Bates' cheeks twitched, but he nodded regardless.

Jack flicked back into the other reality. 'Alright, let's go hunt down Sid.'

'Well actually...' Dean started. He stopped when he realised that Jack cared about the semantics about as much as he did. 'That's a good idea, Colonel.'

'Thank you, Colonel.' Jack gave a little bow, and Dean used the cue to take point.

That didn't stop Jack from making remarks though. 'So, America's Most Wanted...'

'Apparently.'

'Rob a bank? Burn down houses? Kick puppies?'

'I was not aware that cruelty to animals warranted such a forceful reaction on the part of your government, O'Neill.'

They stopped just outside the freight elevator, and Carter stepped forward to press the button.

'It doesn't.'

Teal'c seemed to consider the statement for a second, and then tilted his head to indicate he understood. Dean snickered, and when Jack looked to him he covered it by ushering everyone in. He couldn't be sure, but he suspected that Teal'c pointed it out on purpose. He wondered how many other times Teal'c had made a comment at Jack's expense that went over everyones' heads.

'Okay, so any ideas for when he hit the ground? Head for the nearest Gapetto? What?'

'From the report it seems the most likely target will be a small child,' Daniel recounted. 'Possibly somewhere populated would be our best bet?'

'Would it not be prudent to contact the Sam Winchester of this reality first?' Teal'c supplied.

'Teal'c is right.' Carter agreed. 'We are basically walking into an unknown situation. Too much time has passed since Colonel Winchester left-'

'You're telling me,' He muttered.

'-Which leaves us facing a lot of unknowns. For all we know, his brother may have already thwarted this,' She seemed hesitant to say it, '...cursed puppet.'

'Which would make this entire mission moot.' Jack commented. 'Alright, we'll assume he hasn't for now,' He turned to Dean. 'I'd hate to have you owe me so much for doing so little. It almost doesn't seem fair.'

'A-ha.'

'Which leads us back to getting in touch with him?'

'I'm sorry, while this all seems fascinating,' Daniel interjected, 'Tracking and curses are not really my areas of expertise.' He paused. 'No more than any of you, come to think of it. But some of the inscriptions on the boxes – not to mention what's inside them – may have be of some sort of value that John Winchester didn't know about. I mean, he had a Quantum Mirror in there – who's to say that he may not had stumbled on some other piece of alien technology worth investigating?'

'So you want to go back and poke around the boxes?'

Dean spoke up. 'Woah, hey woah – bad idea. I speak from experience: this is not something we want to be doing.'

Daniel held up a hand to stave him off. 'I'm just saying; we're here – it's certainly worth looking into.'

Jack turned to Carter, who shrugged. 'He does have a point, sir.'

'Of course he does. Alright, Carter, you and Daniel go poke around the wacky gadgets-' As Dean looked ready to protest, he added. '-But do not open them, are we clear? You'll just have to make do with the pretty pretty pictures.'

Carter nodded. 'Yes sir.'

Daniel sighed. 'Right, sure.'

'Atta boy.' Jack clapped him on the shoulder. 'We'll be on the radio if anything happens. Check in every two hours, and tell Sergeant...'

'Bates,' Dean supplied.

'...What's going on.'

'Will do, sir.'

With that said, Jack, Teal'c and Dean stepped out of the elevator on the ground floor. They waited until Daniel and Carter disappeared from sight before continuing outside.

'So how's that plan coming along, Winchester?'

'Working on it.'

The sun was well up now, and like last time the storage locker was deserted (though Dean hadn't really suspected any different). He was a little saddened to see the Impala missing from the spot where he remembered it though.

'Winchester? Colonel? Hey, Dean!'

He looked up to Jack's concerned face. 'Yeah?'

'You al-'

'I'm fine, just trying to think of something.' He replied. He was getting kind of sick of that question. More-so, he was getting sick of people looking at him like they wanted to ask that question. He turned away.

'Okay. T suggested we try calling directory assistance to find your brother's phone number. Right now I'm thinking it's all we got.'

Dean waved a hand, distracted. The sign in front of him caught his attention. 'That won't work.'

'Why not?'

'Because.' He turned back to them. 'But there is one number we could try.' He thumbed over his shoulder to Black Rock Storage's billboard, complete with a phone number underneath.

.-.-.

They'd rung the number on the board, only to find themselves talking to a man who seemed half-asleep despite the hour. He'd given them the address of his 'office', which Dean suspected was nothing more than his kitchen table – if he even had one – and now Jack and Teal'c were going in under the pretence of renting a locker. Dean was absent in case the him from this reality had already met Dave Teak, Self-Storage Entrepreneur.

Jack looked around the dank corridor for number four. When they found it, Jack was hesitant to knock on the door for fear he'd catch something. Teal'c sensed his trepidation but did nothing to ease it.

'It appears Colonel Winchester was correct in his earlier summation of Mr. Teak.'

'Appearances can be deceiving.' Jack countered and, with a slight cringe, banged on the door.

A ruffling sound was heard before someone shuffled towards the door. It opened to a weedy looking man with unkempt straw hair. He greeted them in a ratty dressing gown and boxers.

'O'Neill?'

'Unfortunately.'

'What?'

'Yes. Yes, that's me.'

'Ahuh.' Dave turned away and started padding back into the apartment.

Teal'c leaned down to Jack's ear. 'It appears you owe Colonel Winchester twenty dollars, O'Neill.'

Ever the eloquent one, Jack grumbled a 'Shut up,' before following Dave inside.

Dodging rubbish and a half eaten bowl of cereal they came to stop at a small kitchenette table at which Dave sat. It was covered in everything under the sun, and yet was still the cleanest part of the whole apartment.

'Oh, yeah, sorry about the clutter – my girlfriend kicked me out so I haven't exactly been Mr. Respectable.'

Teal'c raised an eyebrow which Jack interpreted as him silently informing him that he now owed Dean forty dollars. Jack chose to ignore it. 'It's alright.'

'Okay, so you're looking for a, uhh, locker, right?' He started shifting the papers and clothes on the table. 'I know I got the keys here somewhere.'

'Actually we're looking for someone who already has a locker.'

Dave stopped. 'Huh?'

'Number twenty-six. We were hoping you had a way to get in contact with him?'

Dave seemed lost at the turn in conversation 'Uhh, I don't think I'm allowed to give out information like that.' He then spared a glance at Teal'c, who was pulling off the silent intimidation by merely staring at him patiently. Dave swallowed noticeably.

Jack pulled out his military credentials (should he run into any trouble in this reality) and showed them to Dave. 'This is a matter of national security, Mr. Teak. We need to get in touch with him.'

At those magical words, Dave seemed to finally wake up. 'Yeah, sure. I uhh, got the information here somewhere...' He started to rummage again. 'Funny thing, I had to call him last week – someone broke into his locker again. Do you suppose it has anything to do with that?'

Jack spared a glance with Teal'c. 'We're not at liberty to say.'

'Sure, I understand.' He picked up a rumpled sheet and tried to smooth it out before he handed it over. 'Here's his details.'

Jack spared a glance at it before he handed it to Teal'c. 'Thanks for your help.'

'No problem, I'm always willing to help out my country in any way possible.' He paused. 'Hey, I'm not in any kind of danger, am I?'

Jack took one last look around the room. 'Most likely.'

Daves' eyes widened. 'What?'

'Your country thanks you.' Jack nodded and then followed Teal'c out the door.

When they got outside, Dean hopped off the brick fence and came to greet them. 'Got it?'

'Indeed we did,' Teal'c replied, handing over the paper.

Dean unfolded it and pulled out the cell phone he'd acquired whilst they were inside. The woman he'd bought it off was all hands with the flirting. 'No, I meant the forty dollars you owe me.'

Jack looked ready to chastise Teal'c for ratting him out, before he remembered he was wearing his ear piece. 'How about we make it three hundred lectures instead of five?'

'Yeah, sure.' He put the phone to his ear, a smirk on his face. 'I'll break even before the mission's finished at this rate. Hello, uh, Bobby, is it?...'

End Part III.