Author's Note: First off, I'd like to thank Julefor, apester, KnightJellyofCamelot, Evenmoor, ESwan, DaughterOfPosideon333, DimensionJumper, Heartless BytchhakaHelenBach1, sam's folly, and SylarTookMyPower for their wonderful reviews. Your support is one of the reasons this story has succeeded. And now on to the chapter!

Chapter 12: Talking to Myself

Before Dean even opened his eyes he realized that he was feeling so much better. His hand no longer hurt and the seizures had mercifully stopped. But the sounds around him had also changed. Instead of concerned voices calling his name, he now heard the sounds of some sort of battle. Well, that settled it. The spell must've worked. He was home.

Dean turned his head to the side as he opened his eyes and saw Cas lying unconscious on the ground. Looming over him was a sinister-looking guy with skin that was pitch-black. Everything about him just screamed 'evil mastermind douche-bag'. Not too far from him was demon-skank. They were both in front of some sort of alter, but before Dean could get a better look at it, Sam's boots almost crushed his head. The older brother rolled out of the way and jumped to his feet.

"Dude, watch it!"

Sam didn't even acknowledge him. He seemed to be too busy pulling some tough-looking biker-type demon off of Bobby. In the scuffle, Sam dropped his knife. Dean dove forward to grab it, but his hand passed right through the hilt.

"What the hell?" Dean looked at the offending appendage and realized that he could almost see through it. He stood, looked down at himself, and saw that his whole body was slightly transparent, as though he were not quite real. Not quite here. He waved his arms around, but no one took any notice of him. Dean was sure he hadn't died, so he couldn't be a ghost, but what the hell was going on.

The spell. Either something had gone wrong or it was only intended to allow him to (what was the wording again? Right.) see his home when he was far away but not to actually get there. Freakin' magic. Just another reason to hate that hocus-pocus crap. Because just what the hell was he supposed to do now.

Then out of the corner of his eye he saw some movement behind the plastic covered furniture that was lining the perimeter of the room.

"Better go check it out." Dean muttered under his breath. "Not like I can do anything else."

He walked right through the barrier and turned to see a figure crouched down, getting ready to peer around the corner of the piled cabinets. The person had his back to him, but Dean knew who it was immediately by the haircut and the very familiar clothes.

"Dude, you've gotta be freakin' kidding me!"

The other version of himself spun around and looked at him with comically wide eyes.

"What the hell?" he whispered.

Dean blinked in surprise. It seemed that other-Dean could see him even though no one else did. But while this was an interesting turn of events (and really what in his life wasn't), there was a bigger issue to be addressed. "I should be asking you that. What was Sammy thinking, bringing you to a fight?"

"Keep your voice down. I'm kind of hiding here, if you hadn't noticed."

"Hey, everyone! Wanna-be hunter hiding right here!" Dean yelled. Other-Dean's face paled. "Dude, chill out. Seems you're the only one who can see or hear me."

"Great, so you're just a little bit of an ass-hole instead of a big one." Other-Dean hissed at him.

"Seriously, what are you doing here?"

"I'm… I mean, you… well, we are the only ones that can stop this guy."

"You mean Mr. Charcoal-butt over there."

"Yeah, he's called the abomination. He's the love-child of an angel and a demon."

"Now, that's one jacked-up couple. I'd hate to be their marriage councilor."

Other-Dean chuckled. "Castiel says he's really powerful and that according to prophesy, only the adversary can defeat him. And that's us."

"Well, I'm here now, so you keep here outta trouble and stay safe. You gotta stay in one piece so we can get you back home."

"That's a great idea. I'm sure you'd be really helpful in a fight right about now." Other-Dean whispered back, sarcasm heavy in his voice. "Besides, I doubt you're ghost-ass can bleed."

Oh, right. He'd forgotten that he couldn't touch anything, let alone fight fuglies. "Okay, point taken. But you know, the whole not bleeding thing is a good idea."

"Not really. Apparently, the blood of Dean Winchester is the only thing that can kill the abomination."

"Dude, that's one screwed up weakness."

"Yeah. I'm a little weirded out by the whole 'I'm carrying some sort of blood-born pathogen for evil bastards' thing."

"Dude, just be glad it's not a STD."

"That's just wrong, dude."

Dean looked out at the battle. Two more demons had joined the fight, but Sam and Bobby were still holding their own. Boy did he wish he could go out and help them.

"So what's the plan?"

"I get close to the abomination and once he's injured I cut my hand, jump out of this hiding spot and mix my blood into his."

"That plan sucks."

"You got a better one?"

"No." Dean shrugged. "But what if you're seen?"

"That's why I'm being careful to stay out of sight."

"Hey, I could be your look out. I'll just stand here and let you know when it's time for you to start your suicide run."

"Gee, thanks for the support. But that's actually a pretty good idea."

"Hey, I may not have a college degree, but I know how to come up with some pretty awesome battle plans."

They were both silent for a moment. Dean kept glancing from the fight back to his alternate self. He was impressed with the guy. Must've taken guts to jump into something like this. But Dean also understood why he was doing it. He'd bet good money that Charcoal-butt was the freak behind the whole dimension mix-up and ganking him would be the only way to fix it. Dean knew that if he himself had kids, he'd do anything at all to get back to them. Which reminded him…

"Dude, your kids are awesome. Seriously. And don't worry, they're doing just fine."

Other-Dean gave a relieved smile. "Good. I miss 'em."

"Yeah, well, you'll be seeing them soon enough."

"You didn't tell them anything, right?"

"Dude, no way! What kind of bastard do you think I am? Not gonna scar those kids for life with the truth. Now you're brother on the other hand…"

"You didn't!"

"He kept pushing. Guy doesn't know when to leave well enough alone."

"Please tell me he's the only one you told."

"Yep. Well, him and your mom."

"What!"

"Ah, she's cool with it. Knew 'bout the supernatural long before I came along. Ask her about it when you get back."

His other self looked at him as though trying to figure out if he was being played. Then he just shook his head. "You know, after the last couple of days, I'm not sure if anything can surprise me any more."

"Nice attitude." Dean approved. "Look, I've been thinking. I think you need a plan B, just in case."

"Sounds good."

Dean laughed. "Don't say that 'til you hear my plan."

…

…Supernatural…Supernatural…Supernatural…Supernatural…Supernatural…

…

Dean sat with his back to the furniture and his knees drawn up to his chest. He could hear the battle going on just a few feet away, but he tried not to pay attention to it. Hunter-Dean (as he had decided to call him) would let him know when it was time to move. He was glad that the more experienced version of himself had shown up, even if the other man couldn't actually participate in the fight. This waiting was driving him nuts and he was grateful for the company. After going over the backup plan (which he prayed they didn't have to use), he'd asked hunter-Dean how he'd gotten here. After the explanation, they decided that the other man would most likely be stuck here in this ghost-like state until they either set things right or his mom and the others found a way to reverse the spell. He really hoped it was going to be option number one, because he didn't want hunter-Dean to leave before this was over. He knew it sounded childish, but he was quickly running low on courage and the hunter seemed to be a good source of bravery.

"How's it going?" He used his head to gesture toward the skirmish in the center of the room.

"Sammy's dancing with tattoo-demon while skank-demon left her master's side to try and take out Bobby. Seems they're running low on lackeys."

"Yeah, but we're running low on time." Dean glanced at his watch. The ritual would be able to start in just a few minutes.

"Well, this probably'd be over already if Cas didn't decide to take a nap."

"You know, you should treat him with a lot more respect. He's an angel of the Lord. And from what I hear, he's saved your ass quite a few times."

"And trust me, I'm grateful for it."

"You apparently don't act it. The angel almost passed out from shock when I sent a few nice words his way."

Hunter-Dean just shrugged but didn't respond.

"Look, I get it. I really do. Castiel is an angel of God and you aren't exactly church-boy, right. You know, when my wife died, I got mad at God for a little while. Blamed Him for the tragedy. But I got over it, dude. And I know your life sucks so much worse than mine, but you do have some good stuff in it too. I've only been here a couple days and I can see that. And Castiel is one of those good things."

Dean waited to see what hunter-Dean's response would be. The other man seemed to be thinking it over. Then, just as he opened his mouth, a shot rang out.

"Dude, Sam shot Charcoal-butt in the head. It's time to move. Now!"

Without hesitation, Dean pulled the small switchblade from his pocket and flicked it open. He slid the blade across his palm and hissed in pain as the blood began to flow. Then he sprung to his feet and ran at the abomination.

Unfortunately, the creature saw him coming. He turned and Dean caught a glimpse of dark blood running down the right side of his face, and then Dean was flying across the room. He hit the wall and slumped to the ground.

"Well, this is a surprise. Since I know the adversary is far from here, you must be his alternate. I didn't foresee your participation, but it doesn't matter. You are far from a threat to me."

"I wouldn't be so sure." Dean responded, struggling to his feet.

"Oh, really?"

"I am Dean Winchester, and you are destined to die by my hand."

The abomination laughed. "I doubt that very much."

Dean started towards him once more, but was stopped by a woman's voice.

"That's far enough." He turned and found the slutty girl demon holding a gun on Sam who was just a few feet too far away to reach her. "Take a step back. If you get any closer to my master I will put a bullet through this one's head."

Dean stepped back. He could see hunter-Dean's frustrated expression and knew his face must be mirroring the feeling. But what could he do? Bobby was across the room, just now getting to his feet, Cas was still out cold, and Sam was in no position to help. If he couldn't get close to the abomination, neither plan A or plan B would work. Time for plan C.

In one swift move, Dean pulled the pistol he'd been given from the waistband of his pants and pointed it at his own head.

"I may not be able to kill you but I can ruin your plan. I know the score. This ritual only works if I'm alive. That's why you switched us instead of killing Dean in the first place. This ritual won't work if the adversary is dead. So, if I pull this trigger, it's all over for you. You'll lose."

The adversary's expression grew as dark as his skin color. "You wouldn't dare."

"Oh, wouldn't I? If you succeed, I'm trapped in this crap-hole of a world where I'll not only never see my family again, but I'll probably be killed by the now all-powerful piece of crap that you'll become. Thanks, but no thanks. If I gotta die, at least I'll ruin your day in the process."

Author's Note Part Two: Two cliffhangers in a row. Yep, I'm a dead man alright. But just remember: dead men don't write fanfiction. I hope you all enjoyed and please leave a review. Thanx.