Chapter Four:

Wow, there must be some oddballs from L&D reading this. That's the only explanation I have for the following this warped idea had. Thanks!! Glad ya'll are enjoying it!

Chapter Four: Getting to Know You

(Wendigo)

"Oh, really?" Sam raged at the idiot animal hunter guiding these ignorant people into the woods. "Have you ever hunted a…"

Dean shoved him away, face flooded with alarm. "Sam!" he hissed, pushing him out of earshot of the others. "What's wrong with you?"

"Dean, he…he…"

"Yelling, flying off the handle. Dude, you sound more like me than you!" Dean snapped, giving him a gentle shove in the chest. "Get it under control."

Sam grit his teeth together, shoving Dean back. He shook his head. "I can't." He ran both hands through his hair. "It's the job. I don't see how Dad's done it all these years." He eyed Dean. "Honestly, I don't see why you're doing it."

Dean pulled Dad's journal out from under his jacket. "Right here, Sam. It's all about saving people." He waved the journal at Sam. "And killing all the evil sonsofbitches that get in our way."

(Skin)

The way he moved, talked. Sam knew it could not be Dean. This guy really thought they were brothers, that they had a history before Dad disappeared. Dean did not even pretend to go that far, constantly avoiding any talk of childhoods. Sam suspected the Dean did not want to remember being a kid anyway. He tried to catch the shapeshifter off-guard, but those things moved fast.

When Sam woke up, he was tied up down in the shifter's lair. In the sewer. What was wrong with these things? Seriously, they were at least partially human. Maybe in exchange for the ability to look like anybody they lost their sense of smell? He hoped that was the concussion talking. Sam tried to shake off his headache with a groan.

Dean walked over, backhanded him. Okay, definitely not Dean. It had to be the shifter.

"Where is he?" Sam demanded. "Where is Dean?"

The shifter glared at him. "I wouldn't worry about him. I'd worry about you."

"Where is he?" Sam demanded. They were seriously screwed if the shifter had both of them.

"You don't really want to know." Shifter-Dean chuckled, regarding him. "I swear, the more I learn about you and your family." He shook his head. "I thought I came from a bad background."

Sam chewed his lower lip, wondering if it was talking about him, Dean or Jerry. Hell, probably all three with their luck. Then the shifter's words replayed in his head. "What do you mean, learn?"

He saw the shifter pause, grab his head in pain and grimace. Sam watched in a kind of horrified fascination until it relaxed, dropped its hand and looked at him. "He's sure got issues with you. You had a family, college, friends. He had crap. I mean, I had crap. Dad needed you. Where the hell were you?" The shifter pressed a hand against its temple, Dean's brow furrowed in confusion.

"Where is he?" Sam demanded again.

"I am Dean." The shifter took a step back. "See, deep down, I'm just jealous. You got friends. You could have a life. Me? I know I'm a freak. And sooner or later, everybody's gonna leave me." He backed further away.

That one hit Sam out of left field. "What are you talking about?" Or, more specifically, who was it talking about: Dean or Jerry? Was there even a difference now?

"You left Dad," it motioned to him, angrily. "Hell, I did everything Dad asked me to, and he ditched me. No explanation, nothin', just poof. Left me with your sorry ass." Yeah, Sam knew Dean would rather be with Dad than him. Duh. "But still, this life? It's not without its perks." Its laugh sent a shiver down Sam's spine. "I meet the nicest people. Like little Becky." That shiver just turned to ice. "You know, Dean would bang her if he had the chance. Let's see what happens." He smiled as he lifted the sheet to cover Sam.

Sam got the sheet off and went to work frantically on his ropes. "Damn it," he muttered, unable to work himself loose. A cough resounded through the otherwise quiet room. Sam froze, there was someone or something else down here.

"That better be you, Sam, and not that freak of nature."

Sam was so relieved to hear Dean's voice he laughed. "Yeah, it's me." He twisted around to watch as Dean managed to pull off the sheet covering him. "He went to Rebecca's, looking like you."

"Well, he's not stupid," Dean said, trying to eye his ropes. "He picked the handsome one."

Sam gave him a confused look, but they had more important things to worry about right now. They had to get to Rebecca.

Well, at least they were able to phone in the possible attack on Rebecca before shifter-Dean could kill her. Of course, that meant there was an APB out on Dean now and Rebecca thought his brother, who wasn't really his brother, was a killer. Great, as if his life did not suck enough already. Sam sighed as he trudged up the path to Rebecca's house, hoping to make an effort at reconciliation. He wondered briefly as he knocked if she would have an easier time with shapeshifters being real or Dean being hunted as the psycho killer who set up her brother. Yeah, running around the country with a delusional psychotic who pretended to be your brother just had the ring of truth to it, didn't it?

To his surprise and immense relief, Rebecca did not slam the door in his face and offered him a beer after inviting him inside. Sam spilled the entire story about a shapeshifter impersonating Zack, even though he knew it would be too much. It still seemed better than explaining Dean.

"So, say this shapeshifter is real. By the way, you know you're crazy?" She gave him a look that was so familiar from their Stanford days it made Sam homesick. "But, um, say it is real. How do you stop it?" Rebecca handed him a fresh beer and took the empty.

"Thanks," he sighed, feeling guilty that this was not going well but better than he expected. "Silver bullet to the heart."

She chuckled at him. "You are crazy." He felt a sharp pain across his temple, again, just before darkness clouded his vision.

When Sam was able to open his eyes again, he saw shifter-Dean checking the ropes securing his hands and feet. "What are you gonna do to me?" he asked, a distinct sense of deja-vu filling him. That sense shifted into high-gear fear at the look in its eyes.

"Oh, I'm not gonna do anything. Dean will, though." It gave him a malevolent grin.

"They'll never catch him," Sam stated, feeling certain it was true. That guy was damned resourceful.

"Oh, doesn't matter. Murder in the first of his own brother? He'll be hunted the rest of his life." Shifter-Dean picked up a sharp knife to examine it. Light glinted off the razor sharp edge. Yeah, Dean was way more screwed up than Sam imagined if the shifter still thought they were really brothers. Of course, he felt no reason to correct someone – er – thing – more screwed up than Dean.

Sam watched shifter-Dean warily. It seemed to enjoy his discomfort, wanted to drag this out. He thought back over the police reports of the other murders. Oh, great, he was already lumping himself in with the victims. Anyway, it appeared that the shifter liked causing lots of pain before finally offing its victim. So there was no way this would be fast, or easy.

"I must say, I will be sorry to lose this skin. Your brother's got a lot of good qualities. You should appreciate him more than you do." It poured a drink, twirling the knife in its other hand. "Cheers." Shifter-Dean drank, then picked up the knife and slammed it, tip first, into the edge of the pool table.

Sam almost grinned. Dean would never desecrate a pool table like that, especially with an enemy so close. He lifted his legs and kicked the shifter, knocking it out of the way. With a tight roll, Sam was off the table and cutting his hands free on the knife. He pulled out the knife with his now free hands and cut away the rope binding his legs. The shifter came at him. Sam swung the knife just like Dad always taught. In mid-swing, shifter-Dean grabbed his arm and twisted. Sam fell to the ground, pain coursing through his arm and shoulder.

"Oh, you son of a bitch," shifter-Dean growled. Sam fought for all his was worth, because this was a case of all or nothing. He did not hold back, not at all. He almost had shifter-Dean pinned when he heard, "Not bad, little brother."

"You're not him," Sam insisted as the shifter got away from him. Arm and legs slashed through the air, blows hissing past or landing right on target. It was all the same, until the shifter ran out of patience. Sam was launched into a bookshelf with considerably more force than he expected. These things were strong! It broke apart on impact, wood shelves and books raining down on him.

The ground was the worst place to be in a fight, so Sam forced himself to his feet, eyes never leaving the shifter. They circled warily.

"Even when we were kids, I always kicked your ass," it said, grabbing a pool cue. Sam ducked out of the way, but the shifter was faster and stronger and he was a little tired now. Plus his head throbbed from the two times the damned thing knocked him out. It pinned him on the floor and wrapped Dean's hands around his throat. He knew it was not Dean, but it was Dean's face that smiled down at him and Dean's hands that constricted his airflow.

Then he heard Dean's voice, only it did not come from the face hovering over him. "Hey!" The shifter jumped back. Two gun reports cut through any other noise in the house and two red holes appeared in shifter-Dean's shirt. It fell down, dead he hoped. Sam gasped for air until he realized it was Rebecca with her arms around him, saying his name and asking how he was. His eyes were pinned on Dean. Dean reached down to the shifter and pulled a necklace out that was under the shifter's shirt. He yanked it off, giving Sam a nod to signal that the evil S.O.B. was dead.

Never had Sam been so relieved for a hunt to be over. This one had been emotionally draining and confusing as hell. When Dean made the comment later about regretting missing his own funeral, Sam chose not to comment. There had been too many close calls this time.