Thanks for the reviews on the last chapter. My awesome beta and friend Gabi (Gabi2305) wrote this chapter and the following one so you have her to thank for this! :)
Back to present day
"Sam!" Dean cried out. "Are you crazy? Put that gun away. It's me, Dean!"
"I'm not so sure about that." Sam wiggled the gun when Dean made a step forward and he froze in his tracks.
"Come on, Sam. Look at me. Who do you think I am, if not Dean?"
"Shapeshifter maybe?"
"A shifter? You must have lost your mind, little brother."
Sam bristled. "Don't call me that. Only Dean is allowed to call me little brother."
"I am Dean, Sam."
"No, you're not."
"So what you're gonna do? Kill me? Pity if you had to discover that I was Dean after all, when it's too late."
Sam pulled out a knife from between his back and the backrest of his wheelchair. "You know, Dean wouldn't have a problem cutting himself to prove who he is. So go ahead. That's a silver knife." He threw the knife towards the other man who quickly stepped back.
"I thought so." Sam nodded grimly. "That's the reason why you couldn't take Dean's ring, because it's silver."
The shifter dropped all pretences of being Dean. Its mouth twisted derisively as it looked down at Sam. "So you know. What now, cripple?"
Sam didn't flinch. "Is Dean alive?"
"He was, last time I checked on him."
"When was that?"
"Yesterday. Oh wait, now that I think about it, I haven't checked on him at all since I invited him to stay at my place. Which was, uhm-. When did he go to the bar to meet the pretty bartender who was actually me?"
Sam clenched his fists, barely restraining himself from shooting straight into the impostor's face. The shifter saw it and smirked. "You shoot me and you'll never know where your big brother is."
"Tell me," Sam demanded. It was hard to look at the familiar face and to know that this wasn't the man he knew and loved.
Snorting, the shifter grabbed a chair and sat down. His weapon still pointed on it, Sam turned the wheelchair around with his free hand, so that he was still facing the shifter, who seemed rather unimpressed. "Looks like we have a bit of a stand-off. You won't shoot me until you know where Dean is, and I won't tell you."
"I can't kill you right away, that's right," Sam admitted. "But there's nothing to stop me from putting a bullet in your leg or your arm. You won't die from it at once, but the silver bullet will kill you after a while. And I guess it would cause you a lot of pain." Sam lowered the weapon until it pointed at the shifter's knee. "Your choice," he said coldly, cocking the hammer.
The shifter raised its hands, placatingly. "Okay, gimp, I surrender. I'm completely at your mercy, big hunter."
Unaffected by the shifter's sneer, Sam let the gun's hammer slowly slide back into place. "Where is he?" he repeated.
"I'm not so stupid as to tell you." The shifter sighed. "But I will show you."
Sam didn't move.
The shifter groaned. "Okay. You know what? I'll get you to Dean and I won't even kill you. You can look after your brother and I'll have a head start."
"Why would you do something like that?" Sam wasn't convinced.
"In a way I respect Dean for what he does. And I pity him."
"Dean doesn't need your pity," Sam spat.
"You really don't have a clue, do you?"
The shifter stood, prompting Sam to raise the weapon.
"Hey, cool down, gimp, I'm just getting my shoes." Unperturbed by the weapon that was still aimed at it, the shifter sat down on the bed to put Dean's shoes on. "You know that Dean would give his life for you, don't you?" it continued. "Have you ever even thought about Dean's feelings?"
"You don't need to tell me about Dean's feelings."
"So you know how little he thinks of himself?" The shifter watched Sam's face for a moment. "You know, for fourteen long years he thought that it was his fault that his baby brother had died. The feeling of guilt has been burnt into his soul, has almost been eating him alive. You think it went away the day after he found out you're his long lost brother? Just like that? Think again, Sam. It just shifted a bit. Now he feels guilty because he crippled you, and deep down he still thinks his father blames him for this. He knows that John cares more for you than for him, and the real sad thing is that he's okay with it. He really thinks that you deserve your father's love more than he does."
"That's not true. You're lying." Sam tried not to let his voice betray his feelings, but the shifter's words had hit a bit too close to home. He knew, however, that the shifter was trying to distract him. That fact that it wore Dean's features made it look less dangerous. But if Sam let himself get distracted just for a moment, the thing would not hesitate to attack and kill him. He couldn't shoot it and the shifter knew that. Sam wouldn't risk the life of his brother and the shifter was aware of it. Sam wondered why it hadn't attacked him at the first chance it got. He didn't fool himself, he knew perfectly well that a guy in a wheelchair could never stand a chance against a shapeshifter if it came to combat. The shifter was toying with him, but as far as it led him to Dean he was okay with that.
The shifter shrugged and grabbed his - Dean's - jacket. "Are you ready?" it mocked Sam. "Let's go, then. By the way, please leave your cell phone here."
Sam ignored him, picked the keys of the Impala from the desk and threw them against the shifter's chest. "You're driving."
"Wouldn't have it the other way." The shifter actually smiled. "She's my baby, you know."
Sam bit his lip to compose himself. He didn't know how long he'd be able to keep calm if the shifter continued to tease him like that. "Go!" he ordered.
"Your cell phone first," the shifter insisted.
With a grimace, Sam pulled his phone out of his pocket and threw it on the bed. "Satisfied?"
"Not yet." The shifter came over and with a disgusted expression on its face it began to search Sam. It even rolled up fhis jeans up to his shins.
"What are you looking for?"
"Weapons. You're a hunter, Sam. I wouldn't be surprised if you had a silver knife tied to your calf."
"Apparently I haven't. Can we go get Dean now?"
Arriving at the car, Sam saw himself confronted with another problem. He needed both his hands to shift from the wheelchair onto the seat. He would have to tuck the gun away. It wouldn't take him more than a few seconds, but during these seconds he would be vulnerable. If the shifter went for the gun and attacked him, he would have no way to defend himself. The gun still aimed at the monster's chest, Sam was trying to find a solution to his problem, when the shifter suddenly grinned.
"Let me help you with your problem, Sam." Smiling knowingly, it went around the Impala and opened the door to the driver's seat, got into the car and started the engine. Then it laid both his hands on the steering wheel and looked at Sam, expectantly.
Sam sighed. He had to trust this thing. His nerves wound up like a spring, he placed the gun behind his back onto the wheelchair seat to have it at hand and transferred onto the passenger's seat as fast as he could. His eyes flickering between the shifter and his wheelchair, he leaned outside to grab the gun and then get the wheelchair inside, when the shifter suddenly stepped on the gas. Only his fast reflexes prevented Sam from falling out of the car, and he almost crushed his hand when the door fell shut with a loud clang.
"Are you nuts?" he yelled angrily, turning around to look at the boardwalk behind them, where his wheelchair was left standing.
"Only creating some sort of balance," the shifter grinned, accelerating. "I know what you can do, even as a cripple. I don't want to take any risks. You won't be able to hold a weapon if you need both of your hands to get moving."
When Sam saw the shifter's sneer, he felt uncontrollable rage swell inside him. He'd lost the gun and he'd lost the wheelchair. That wasn't what he had planned. Now he was at the shifter's mercy. And the bastard knew it. It would be easy for it to kill Sam now. But Sam was sure it wouldn't do it. Finally, the shifter was free to act like itself and to show Sam its contemptuousness and it wouldn't want to cut this pleasure short. It would cherish the feeling that it didn't have to hide anymore, and that it could show him that not even trained hunters like the Winchesters could harm it.
The shifter cast him a glance. "Don't be afraid, Sam. I promised to get you to Dean and that's what I'm going to do."
When Sam didn't answer, the shifter focused on the street again. "What gave me away, by the way?" it asked. "You know you're the first one who's ever noticed that I'm not what I pretended to be."
Sam snorted. "Do you really have to ask? Okay, you managed to fool me in the beginning. God, I even felt bad for you because that girl ditched you."
"I'm a good actor," the shifter said smugly.
"Ah, not so good," Sam disagreed. "For one, Dean doesn't really know where girls keep their diaries, or the keys to their secrets. You knew because you were that girl before. There were more hints. Dean wouldn't take his ring off and Anne's bird suddenly didn't like you as much as he did the first time.
"Coincidences." The shifter shrugged.
"Maybe. These things irritated me but they weren't what really threw me off."
"So what was it?"
"You remember Brooke's diary? When you read it to me you forgot about one tiny detail."
The shifter hissed when the truth dawned on it. "Oh geez. Dean's dyslexic," it groaned, smacking its forehead with its hand. "What a stupid mistake."
"Right." Sam smirked. "Dean would never be able to read as fluently as you did. Maybe if he had a book with bigger letters, but not a girl's handwriting. That was the first real clue I got that something wasn't right."
"There were more?" the shifter asked, amused. It seemed to enjoy the situation. "I can't have been that bad."
"You're right, you knew how to act like Dean most of the time. But looking like him and having his memories doesn't transform you into him. You still have your own feelings and you couldn't hide the disdain you're experiencing when you look at me. You're way too uncomfortable in my presence. You didn't even dare to touch me or the wheelchair. It's like you'd burn your fingers if you touched it. You know that Dean uses it just as he uses a normal chair? You couldn't do it. You didn't call me Sammy even once. And you couldn't bring yourself to be as enthusiastic about my walking as Dean would have. Besides, Dean would have never let me fall."
"You believed it at first."
"When I was angry, that's right. But I knew the truth when I finally started to think. Even if we fought, Dean would never be afraid to touch me. Why are you, by the way? It's not as if I'm contagious."
"You're a freak. I hate freaks."
Sam nodded slowly. He figured that much. "Because you're a freak yourself?"
The shifter's jaws began to grind. Bingo, Sam thought. Look at that, a self-conscious supernatural creature.
The shifter eyed him warily. "I don't know where I come from," it told Sam. "I don't know my real parents nor if I even have any. I was adopted when I was a baby. Everything was alright, until I realized at the age of ten that I could change into the shape of anyone I touched. I was confused and afraid, and I asked my parents what to do. They told me to stop lying, so I showed them what I was capable of."
Sam looked at the shifter, intrigued against his will.
"My mother couldn't stop screaming. You could hear her all the way down the street. My father just told me to stay away from them."
"And then?" Sam inquired.
"They cast me out. Told me to leave their home and never come back." The shifter's eyes blazed in fury. "I was ten years old. A ten-year-old, scared-to-death little girl, and they sent me packing."
"A girl?" Sam exclaimed in surprise. "You're a girl?"
"I was born as one." The shifter shrugged. "Now I'm not sure anymore what I am. At first I stuck to the idea that I was a girl and took the form of girls. But I'm getting to like the idea of taking men. They're stronger."
"What did you do after they cast you out?"
"I lived on the streets for two years. Then I learned that I could sneak my way into families by abducting a member and taking their place. It's not like having your own family, though. You always have to act like someone else, you can never be yourself."
"Do you have a name?" Sam asked curiously.
"Yeah. It's Dean, at the moment."
Sam stared at the monster, until it shrugged. "I haven't had a name for almost a decade. But they used to call me Ginger."
"How old are you?"
The shifter shrugged again. "About 19, I guess."
"I see." Sam bit his lip. He would have never thought the shifter was so young. He fought hard against his own feelings. He didn't want to feel sympathy for this thing who wore Dean's face. He had to avoid thinking of it as a human being with a gender and a name. By the way, he didn't even know if the shifter's story was true, or if it was still toying with him.
The shifter threw him a glance and sneered mockingly, but for once the look in its eyes didn't match its actions. "You're way too soft for your profession, Sam," it said. "A hunter that feels pity for something supernatural? Don't let Dad hear about this."
"He's not your dad, and I don't feel pity for you," Sam said with renewed determination. "You killed all those people and you abducted my brother. You chose your path yourself. It's your own choice to be a monster."
"You're right, Sam, I am a monster," the shifter agreed. "But you know what? For that little bit of sympathy I saw in your eyes I might even consider to let you and your brother live." It pulled over into a small dead end street and turned off the engine. "We're here."
Sam looked around. There was absolutely nothing apart from a wide back compound and a lot of garbage littering the street. The shifter grinned at Sam's confused look. "Come on," it said. "Let's take you to your brother." It got out and started walking.
Sam opened the passenger's door. "Hey!" he shouted. "What about me?"
The shifter turned around. "You know, Sam, you were perfectly right that I don't want to touch you. So if you want to get to Dean you'll have to find a way to follow me."
"What?" Sam's gaze fell on the dirty street. Yeah, the shifter surely knew how to humiliate him. "It's for Dean," he mumbled. "You can do it, for Dean." He let himself slide onto the pavement and dragged his body over the tarmac on his forearms.
"You're great at that, you know?" the shifter sneered.
Sam gritted his teeth. He wouldn't allow the thing the satisfaction of seeing him struggle. The tarmac bit into his bare arms and he was sure he would need a new pair of jeans after this experience, but it didn't matter. He only hoped there would be an afterwards, preferably with Dean.
The shifter crouched down in front of a gully cover and started to remove it.
"You've got to be kidding me," Sam groaned.
"Why are you surprised?" The shifter set the cover aside. "I'm a creature of the night. The sewer fits me best." It swung its feet into the hole and started to climb down a ladder that was fastened to the wall.
Sam just stared at the round hole in the street.
"What's the matter, gimp?" The shifter's voice sounded hollow, but the amusement in it was still clear. "Dean thinks you can get everywhere, if you want to. I'm only allowing you to prove your worth." The shifter laughed gleefully.
"I really hope you're there, Dean," Sam muttered, when he examined the entrance to the sewer. There was still the chance that the shifter was taking him for a ride and there would be nothing there aside from dirt and mud. But he had to give it a chance. There was the ladder. Carefully, Sam shoved his legs over the edge and turned onto his stomach. Pushing himself backwards, he lowered his body until he could grab a hold of the ladder with one hand. When he let go of the edge of the street, he almost lost his balance, and heard his legs bang against the iron rungs. With dangling legs, he made his way down rung by rung only by the strength of his arms. The rusty iron scraped his palms, and it was so pitch black beneath him that he couldn't see the end of the ladder.
"Would you have the decency to tell me when my feet touch the ground?" he called out to the shifter.
"That would be now," the shifter said in the exact moment when Sam's hand groped air instead of the next rung and he lost his grip. Falling down the last three feet, Sam landed on his butt on the grimy ground. He grimaced, looking up at the end of the ladder. "Thanks," he muttered sarcastically.
"You're welcome." The shifter turned around and strode along the sewer.
Sam gulped. His eyes had adjusted to the dim light that came from above just enough to see that the ground was covered in at least four inches of water, dirt and grime.
"You're coming?" the shifter shouted cheerfully from ahead.
"Asshole." Sam swore under his breath and, once again leaning on his elbows, started dragging himself through the mucky water.
The shifter waited at a junction of intersecting pipes. "Do you hunt with this speed, gimp?" it teased. "You should really think about a career change."
"Shut up!" Sam growled. He was out of breath, and the dirt he was dragging his body through was disgusting. He didn't even want to know what was floating in there. He was already soaked and covered in grime. "I'm glad you're having fun."
"I sure am. Haven't had so much fun in weeks." The shifter stomped its feet into the water and it splashed right into Sam's face. Sam spat and closed his eyes for a moment, biting back his anger and frustration with sheer willpower. He had to focus.
"Where is Dean?" he demanded.
"Just around the next corner. Maybe he can already hear you coming." Laughing, the shifter turned around and jogged away.
"Bastard." Sam tried to pick up speed but his legs seemed to be glued to the ground. The wet pair of jeans that clung to his legs wasn't doing much to help, and his arms were starting to get tired. Sam mustered his strength. I'm coming, Dean, he thought. Just hang on.
Suddenly he could hear him. There was an angry voice and it was Dean's. Not the shifter's, it had a certain pitch in it that was only to be heard when Dean was furious. Sam's heart leapt with joy and relief. The shifter hadn't lied to him. Dean was there and very much alive.
Then he heard Dean's voice again, but this time it was composed and mocking. "I've brought you something," the shifter said. "So stop yelling at me or you won't get it."
Sam couldn't hear Dean's answer, but now he could see a dim glow ahead. There was something akin to a small room, maybe for maintenance. It didn't seem to be used a lot, it didn't even have a door. Sam dragged himself around the edge and into the light of a flashlight the shifter had switched on and put on a shelf. Sam lost his balance the moment his eyes fell on Dean. With a thud he crashed into the muddy water, but he didn't care. His eyes fixed on Dean, he had to stop himself from trembling with rage. Dean was sitting against a pipe with his hands tied behind it, his eyes were hollow and his battered and bruised face looked grey. But worse yet was his right leg. His shin was obviously broken, and the torn fabric of his jeans stretched over the swollen limb. At the same time Sam became aware of a putrid stench, and looking to the side he made out the form of a corpse lying against the wall. A once pretty young girl with a gunshot wound in her head. The bartender, Sam concluded.
"Sam!" Dean cried out. He looked up at the shifter. "You damn bastard. Why did you bring him here? You already have me, you don't need Sam. You-"
"It was his idea," the shifter cut him short. "Sam wanted to be with you. So, as the caring big brother that I am, I brought him here."
Sam had managed to crawl to Dean's side and brought himself into a sitting position. "Dean! Are you okay?" He felt Dean's forehead and found it was hot. His brother was running a fever. Sam pushed himself around Dean and started to untie the rope that bound Dean's hands together. It was so tight that his fingertips were already blue. Sam swore under his breath.
Suddenly, a foot came crashing down on his chest, and Sam found himself lying in the mud again. The shifter towered over him. "I said I'd take you to your brother. I didn't say you could have him. And I certainly never gave you permission to free him."
"His hands are already dying off," Sam gasped.
The shifter shrugged. "Doesn't matter," he said dismissively.
Sam wished he could swipe the shifter off its feet. With an effort, he pushed himself back into a sitting position.
"Sammy."
It was only a faint whisper. Dean seemed to have exhausted himself earlier, when he had yelled at the shifter.
"I'm here, Dean." Awkwardly, Sam moved to his brother's side.
Dean licked his cracked lips. "Sam, there's a flask of water in my jacket."
His eyes wide with sudden understanding, Sam searched the pockets until he found the small bottle of water. Unscrewing the lid, he put it carefully to Dean's lips. Dean gulped the water down so thirstily that some of it ran down the corner of his mouth.
"You didn't even give him water?" Sam spat at the shifter, gently wiping the wet trace from his brother's chin with his thumb. "I thought that maybe there was still something human in you, but there's not. You're a monster."
"Watch your mouth, gimp." The shifter kicked Sam's leg.
Dean's head jerked up. "Don't you call my brother a gimp, you son of a bitch." His eyes, unfocused from exhaustion and dehydration, blazed for a moment with fury.
"It's okay, Dean," Sam whispered, touched by the thought that Dean was trying to defend him even in his bad condition. He rummaged through the pockets of his jeans until he found the candy bar he had taken with him the day before. The plastic paper was wet and dirty from the muddy water that had seeped into his pockets but the bar was okay. He put it to Dean's lips. "Here, Dean. Take a bite."
"Isn't that a touching scene?" the shifter sneered, watching Sam feeding his brother. "You know, my heart bleeds for you both."
"What do you mean?" Sam threw a suspicious glance at the shifter, before concentrating again on the task at hand. He pushed the rest of the candy bar into Dean's mouth and gave him more of the water.
"Thanks." Dean's eyes rested on him, sadly. "You shouldn't have come, Sam."
"I couldn't leave you here."
"I know, but still…"
"Your brother is right, Sam." Suddenly, the shifter stepped behind Sam, grabbed his arms and pulled him away from Dean.
"Hey," Sam protested. "Leave me alone."
"Sorry, Sam. Not going to happen." With a hard shove the shifter pushed Sam to the ground and pressed its knee onto his back, successfully immobilizing him. With flailing arms Sam tried to place a hit, but he stood no chance against the shifter, who snatched Sam's hands and tied them together behind his back.
"You promised to let us go," Sam gasped.
"Did I?" The shifter shrugged. "I lied. Come on, Sam, you're a hunter. You know that I can't let you go. You would be on my tail in no time."
"You just wanted a head start."
"And you believed it. Why would I get myself in danger? It's so much easier to leave you here."
"You son of a bitch," Dean yelled. "Let Sam go, you monster. You have me, you don't need him."
The shifter got up from Sam and looked down at the young hunter who wasn't able to move anymore with his hands tied behind his back. Then it crouched down in front of Dean. "You know I respect you, Dean," it said with sadness in its voice. "You're brave and loyal until the end. They really don't deserve you. But this isn't about you. Nor is it about Sam. You're a threat and I just can't risk it. But I promised Sam that I won't kill you and that's what I'll do. I keep my promises."
"Yeah, you'll just leave us here to starve," Dean snorted sarcastically.
"I'm afraid our deal only included the killing part."
"Cowardly fucking bastard!" Dean spat straight at the shifter's face.
Unperturbed, the shifter wiped its face. "You know, I've had enough of your insults, now." He got a piece of cloth from the shelf, forced the dirty rag into Dean's mouth, and tied its ends together behind Dean's head. He grinned when Dean's eyes shot daggers at him. "That's way better. You know, Dean, keep up your high spirits. This way you might be able to last longer than Sam. You can see him die. I guess that would be the highlight of your petty life."
Sam, who still lay on his stomach, tried to turn his head. "The only one here that has a petty life is you," he said calmly.
"I know what you're thinking." The shifter licked its lips and grabbed another rag. "You think that daddy will come for you. But he won't find you. He wouldn't even know that you are here. But be sure, I will tell him. I'm going back to daddy now to tell him where you both are. And then I'll kill him." Laughing, the shifter gagged Sam and then turned him onto his back. "Don't want you to drown, do we? Have a good time." Still laughing, the shifter got the flashlight from the shelf, switched it off and left the Winchester brothers in complete darkness.