Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or the characters but I have managed to make them into something they hunt but in a good way.

Warning: This is based in an alternate universe where the boys are shapeshifter twins that were adopted by John and Mary after their real parents, close friends of the hunters who were killed by Gordon. They are later adopted by Bobby after the Winchesters are killed on a hunt. He does know they are shifters and has raised them as Hunters, like their adopted parents had been doing while teaching them to be good shifters and how to hide what they are from others.

No, the other hunters don't know they are shifters and they are good at acting human but are fully shapeshifters not human genetically but raised to behave as human by their parents. No, there will be no Lucifer, Michael, or vessel, or leviathan plots in this storyline just the boys hunting as Hunters and shifters.

Yes, there will be Wincest but I will keep it brief and romantic as possible. This isn't that kind of story.

Plot: Sam made a date with Tina. Doll kills her as boys wait for her inside the bar. Boys go out and witness the killing, full doll body and all. Sam is heartbroken. He feels like if he hadn't made the date, she wouldn't have been there to be killed. Dean comforts Sam and helps him handle his guilt and loss, he had found a girl he liked and she was killed. Brothers witness the doll turning from full sized to doll sized as it runs from the scene, Dean chases it but is forced to give up chase.

Preview of next chapter: Sam is hurting and Dean tries to fix him, maybe Bobby and them show up.

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It all ended in pain. Why did it have to end in pain?

Dean thought this as he fought to pull Sam away from the dead girl and pull the phone out of his hand before he dialed 911. He sadly failed on both accounts.

It was just a night out, blowing off steam. Sam had offered him the room and Dean picked up a girl to debauch himself with. Sam hadn't minded, he had set up that drink date in the car so he was eager to see Tina anyway.

Now Tina lay bleeding in the alley and Dean was chasing a damn doll person! Son of a bitch! This broke pattern, this broke pattern big time!

He whispered to Sam that he would be waiting inside for him and Sam nodded, sobbing helplessly, blood all over him, and Dean wanted to stay but knew it wouldn't do any good. So he waited in the bar for the cops to question him and so he could get his brother home.

It all had started so well, too.

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Sam and Dean had got to the Dancing Star soon after and ordered whiskey. Sam was nervous and needed to loosen up so Dean figured one small drink would do just that. Dean watched Sammy watch the door every two seconds, once it got close to when his date was going to show up. The girl nibbled Dean's ear but he barely felt it, he was keeping an eye out for Sam who was getting anxious now. A few minutes later of making out with the girl, and Sam's date was still not here. Now Dean's Hunter senses were screaming something was wrong. She had liked him too much to blow Sam off this way, something was wrong with her.

He pushed the girl away and didn't bother making an excuse as to why. He stalked over to Sam and the girl hollered that's what she got for trying to pick up a fag! Dean ignored her but Sam flipped her off for him as they headed out the door, already dialing Tina's number.

That's when they saw it.

A human sized doll, completely naked of course, porcelain glinting in the street lamps, was leaning over a girl that resembled Tina. They ran over and the Doll looked up briefly, eyes glowing bright red, blood red and smiled evilly, then ran back down the alley, moving so human-like for a damn doll, shrinking as she ran, and Dean pursued her close at her heels. Her porcelain shoes, or were they feet?, clacked noisily on the blacktop and she laughed coldly as Sam gave a keening cry and Dean stopped running, knowing they would find the doll soon enough. Sam was in trouble here and he had to go to him.

Fuck the Pull and shoot, Dean was all for just blowing the bitch to pieces, then crushing her to dust, and salting and burning the shit! He ran back to Sam who hugged the lifeless and bleeding body of the girl to him, sobbing loudly, unmindful of the pool of blood he was sitting in. Dean could tell Sam would blame himself for this, it was a given. Sam had asked her out for a drink and then she had been murdered, ergo it was his fault. Not true but Sam wasn't being logical right now. He was breaking and breaking does not mean sane. Hell, those two states of mind weren't even compatible at the moment.

"They coming?" Dean said softly when he figured out Sam was not budging, but took his weapons from him so the cops wouldn't see them and blame Sam for it.

"Yes, they're on their way." Sam cried and Dean gave him a hug.

"I'll be inside waiting for you. Don't leave, Sammy, don't leave without me. Even if they take you in for questioning, get me so I can come with you. Don't go alone!" Dean made him promised and Sam nodded in reluctant agreement, not in any shape to argue right now.

The cops showed up and took their statements. Several witnesses, including the girl he had let go of to go to Sam agreed they had been inside when the killing had taken place, so they were excused, but their finding of the body was documented. All the cops looked at Sam with sympathy and patted his crying shoulder a few times, telling him to lean on Dean and it would get better. Sam just took off his bloody clothes right there and gave them to the cops, emptying the pockets for them into baggies. He kept his wallet and keys though. He smiled gratefully as the police handed him a hospital gown to cover himself and promised to give him the clothes back later if they could. Sam just shook his head and told them to toss them if they didn't need them, he didn't want them back.

He just wanted to go back to their room and cry, and deal with the fact that he had gotten the only girl he had really like in a long time killed. Dean helped Sam to the car and drove them to the room. He had to walk Sam to the room, since Sam had no urge to leave the car apparently. He shuffled along with Dean pulling him to the room, crying softly still.

He pulled Dean to the bed, falling over accidentally and broke, his heart breaking as he soaked Dean's shirt with his tears, and Dean let him, crying for Sam now too. Eventually he cried himself to sleep but before drifting off Sam made him promise to not call Dad. He could handle this, he just needed Dean to be patient with him and not call Dad in yet.

Dean reluctantly promised and sighed, tucking his hospital gown clad brother into bed, like he had when he was five. Sam was tossing and turning now, mumbling in his sleep. Dean bit his lip and thought about calling Dad but didn't. He was trying to keep his promise, if Sam started screaming or falling apart too much he would, promise or no promise. A hand snagged his and he turned to see hazel eyes staring into his, so full of pain. "Dean, please. Can you hold me? Please, platonic, I promise. I just need…can't be alone."

Dean nodded and lay on top of the covers essentially pinning Sam under them. Sam rolled over and leaned his forehead against his brother's chest, bowing his body into his, and cried. Then he was still and Dean held him, soothing away the pain when it wrinkled his brow, making it do that little squinchy thing he did when he was thinking hard or hurting. Dean only relaxed when it smoothed out. Sam held Dean's shirt wrapped tightly in his hand, not letting go. Dean was sure it had finger holes in the fabric from how hard Sam was holding it by now but he didn't care.

Sammy needed him and a shirt and some cuddling was a small price to pay to ease Sam's pain right now. He smoothed the hair from Sammy's forehead now, kissing him there lightly. "I'm here, Sammy, not alone, bro. Not leaving you."

It seemed to reach the guy as he smiled in his sleep at the words and the comforting. Then Dean got comfortable as one can get when pinned in place by his brother and slept too, keeping a hold of Sam as they both slept.

He hoped Sam would be more functional in the morning.

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He wasn't, He pretended to be but Dean could tell he wasn't.

They dressed up and headed to the doll maker's shop and hoped this would pan out. Tina and the others were dead because some stupid person had letting go issues and had put a spirit into a damn doll! How sick did you have to be to do a thing like that?

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They entered the shop and shivered, there were dolls everywhere and damned if Dean thought more than a few of their eyes were following them as they walked to counter. Damn Sam and his paranoid ass!

A man came from the back and smiled in welcome. They took a breathe and Dean spoke up before Sam could. "I'm Danny Stevens, this is my life partner, Sam. I heard from some friends of ours your dolls are the best made ones in town. I collect them, you see. I just love them!" Dean pulled a genuine enthusiastic smile out at this part and Sam took his hand, squeezing it, not as part of the act but in thanks for the gesture.

Sam knew Dean didn't like to play gay and actually hated it, yet here he was doing it and there was only one reason he would do it. He was doing it for Sam, to make him smile. Sam gave him the smile he had earned and leaned in, kissing his cheek softly, not loverly, but brotherly, and whispered, "Thanks, Dean."

The man was too distracted by grabbing a brochure for them to notice the exchange.

"Anything for you, Sammy. You can repay the favor by taking bait duty next hunt." Dean said and Sam nodded, smiling softly and letting him keep a hold of his hand. It was for the con but damned if it wasn't making him feel better. He knew brothers didn't hold hands like this but he was still in pain over Tina and crying a lot, having nightmares and not sleeping if he could get away with it which Dean managed to keep down to the bare minimum. Only Dean made the pain less with his banter and his knack for knowing how to fix Sam, it was either let go and fall apart or hold hands. It comforted him and he needed this. It was selfish and he knew that, but, damn it, it was Dean this way or Sam falling apart. Dean chose this way, he wouldn't let Sam fall apart. "Can we look around?" Dean asked and gave his most excited eyes and the man nodded, motioning to the walls.

"These are my best works, feel free to browse." The man said and then they turned to peruse the shelves.

Sam slipped a tentative arm around his brother's waist, suddenly afraid. These dolls, one of them had killed her, could kill Dean, could kill him. He was afraid and not feeling as strong as he was used to, and was incredibly freaked out still. Dean slid one around Sam's waist now, pulling him closer, too, and brushed a kiss across Sam's cheek, not part of the act, just a way to ease his brother's fear. He could feel it thrumming through his tense frame, making him shake slightly. "It's okay, Sammy. We're just looking around here. That doll won't get you, I promise." He'd smash that bitch before she even got close, even let her kill him as he killed her, if it kept Sam safe.

"Don't get you either, Dean. I'm falling apart here and, well, I sound girly here, but you are the only thing holding me together right now. Touching you and bickering, all the shit we do, it all makes me feel like I can handle this. You being here for me, like you always are, helps me believe that the pain somehow might get better... When I'm not close to you, I feel…so lost and cry like a bitch. Damn, I'm pathetic." Sam went to pull away but Dean only pulled him closer.

"Not going anywhere, Sam. You need this, you get it. I'd die for you, bro, so what's that compared to a little girly crap, too? I'll always do my best to make sure you get whatever you need, Sammy." Dean said and stopped, staring up and going pale. He smelled blood.

Sam froze and looked up too.

There were small bloody handprints on the side of it, like the kind we leave when we pull ourselves up window ledges, or shelves, to be more specific. Their eyes trailed along the shelf and looked at each doll, pretending to browse but really looking for more blood or clues to which doll was doing it. It was on this shelf and they shivered at that thought. The bitch that killed those people was right in front of them, not less than three feet away from them. They wanted to hold their guns right now, for comfort. Yeah, they thought, that's the word, comfort. Never mind the blood inside them urging them to just shoot all the dolls and find out that way!

The first one had blood between the heel and front part of the shoes, or were they feet? Really creepy either way. There was a small bit on the petticoat, too, also hand shaped.

They had found their doll.

Sam stared up into its face and then jumped, "Dean." He gasped and gripped him tighter, painfully now. Dean looked at him and followed his look. The doll was inclining its head at them and it's eyes definitely were looking at them. Sam didn't let up his hold but his other hand did edge toward the gun in the small of Dean's back. Dean did the same to the one against Sam's back.

"Sir? We were thinking this one. Is she for sale?" Dean said playing interested in dolls again, he doubted the guy was selling her. It did open a door for them and they needed that.

"Uh, no, she's my personal doll. I can make one like her for you, though. Would you like to see my workshop? I give tours if you are interested." The man said and they smiled. Well, there was the door they had created with their comments. Now they were going to walk through it.

"Really? I have never seen a workshop before!" Dean gushed, Sam rolled his eyes. Dean was really pulling out all the punches for this one! Sam held him still and Dean sighed. Sam wasn't going to let him go so he just went with it and walked Sam with him into the workshop. "You can let me go here if you want, I'm not going anywhere on you."

"No, that doll is out there and that guy is setting my radar off. If this shit hits the fan, you grab my gun and I'll grab yours. Our hands are right above them, so let's stay this way. We split and roll, shoot first and ask questions later. I'm not risking you on this one, Dean." Sam looked to see the man tightening a machine part and looked at his brother again, concern puckering his brow. "Doesn't this feel…hinky to you? It does to me, that guy don't feel right to me. I sense magic…power, weak and barely there, but definitely power." Sam said, eyes serious and glowing slightly. His powers lighting them up as they swept the room. He reached for Dean's gun now and separated. Dean pulled Sam's from his waist band and they swept in on the man, placing both guns to each side of his head. The man froze, eyes shifting between them.

"Warlock." Sam said realizing what he was feeling about the guy. "You're a fucking warlock." No wonder the doll was alive, this son of a bitch had done it.

"Please, I can explain, don't kill me!" The man pleaded, "I don't do that anymore…not since I made…her."

"Her?" Sam prompted and the man nodded.

"My mother." He explained, "I caught her soul as she passed and put it in the doll. I couldn't let her die like that, I just couldn't. I only kept a little magic for myself, just enough to keep me alive. Without it, I will die. I am over 700 years old. That little bit of magic is the only thing keeping me alive. How did you know?"

"Felt it." Sam shrugged and backed up, sitting down, gun still on him but not at his head. The guy seemed on the level but there was still a killer doll out there thanks to his efforts, so the gun stayed. Dean took a chair beside him and they eyed the outer part of the store at times, keeping an eye out in case the doll decided to pay them a visit too.

"Hunters." The warlock sighed and looked up them. "I hid, became human, stayed away from magic, to keep your kind away from us." He looked down and sighed again, "Just wanted to be normal, that's all. Why are you here talking to me? What did I do?" He looked up confused, clearly not knowing what his 'mother' was up to.

"You created a killer doll! It's been killing people for months now. How could you not know?" Dean spat, eyes on the front of the store now; she was out there. "She isn't your mother, she's something but not your damn mother!" He got in his face now, "You could have stopped this! If you just had taken the time to notice your doll going out at odd times, tried to follow her, see what she was up to, but, no, you did none of those things. Do you even care, did you even try!" He handed Sam his gun back and stalked out of the room, too pissed to face the warlock right now. Just stood there, leaning against the counter, eyeing the doll with hatred.

"I'm sorry, are you sure it's her? I can't believe…" the man cried now, "It can't be true."

Sam got in his face now, too. "It's true, it's all very fucking true! I watched her kill my date, the girl I liked, and she smiled at me, and then ran away, leaving my girl to bleed in my arms! So, yeah, we're really sure! There's blood on the shelf and on her, if you even tried to look!" Sam took a breath and tried to avoid crying, "That's not your mother in there. It's something evil and it will kill again."

The man sobbed now and Sam left him to see Dean.

Dean was standing in front of the doll in a staring contest, and wishing he knew how to kill it.

"I have to release the binding spell first, then her soul will be freed. Not sure how to kill it from there though. I do know that burning the bones won't work. I had to burn them to bind her soul to the doll in the first place, to make it accept the doll as its host." The warlock joined them and grabbed the doll, who looked at him as well, eyes full of hate, his own so full of pain. "Mom? Why? I can't…I mean you killed them all, I don't understand."

The doll just glared at him hatefully. He sighed and carried her to the workshop, using both hands to contain the now struggling doll, using his power to keep her from transforming to a bigger form, it hurt but he did it. He wouldn't let her kill anymore.

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He used the work table, putting a petrification spell on her, making it so she couldn't move. Then he pulled his grimoire from under the table and opened it, reading the de-binding spell and watched the soul flow out, so dark and black, with so little light to it.

He thought for a second and turned to another page, pulling ingredients from secret compartments in the table, formerly his altar before he'd quit magic. He tossed them at the soul which flew at him mindlessly and then it surrounded him, killing him with its rage and power instantly. Then it stood over him and froze, the boys locked out by the warlock's power still, unable to move to help which they badly wanted to do.

It gave a cry and the darkness got less and the light part increased until there was just a spot of darkness left in all the light, smaller than a finger now.

It leaned over him and he whispered, "Should have let you go, my fault. So sorry." Blood crept out of his mouth now, "Forgive you, still my mom, love you." Then he died and the soul changed form into a woman of 50, looking human now and crying, shaking his dead form.

"No, no, not my son, not him." She wailed and held him to her chest, crying. She looked at them now, misery in her face, "I always had murderous urges, I just fought them most of my life. I met his father and the urges passed, for the most part, I stayed away from pets, I knew I would kill them if I had any. I never made friends and stayed away from people. I hid in a mountain cabin and saw no one but my son after my husband died, a car crash soon after he was born." She cried and sighed, "He's the only one I never felt the urges to kill, never felt anything but love for. With his father gone, he was all I had left, all I really loved still. He was my heart…and I killed him…I killed my son!" She went on, "My soul was split you see. One part pure killing urges the other light, full of goodness. When he captured my soul to put me in the doll, the good part was already in Heaven, except for a small piece still trapped by the dark part. When he put me into the doll, he got the dark part and the little light part but not the part that kept me from killing." She nearly screamed as she remember killing now and moaned, "I remember the killings now, I did those. I hate that I did them. I'm so sorry for everything!" She sobbed into her son's shirt now and then composed herself to a calm state, still hurting though. "Kill me, Hunters, kill me now." She eyed the doll on the table. "Break and burn the doll, salt and burn it. Then I will be free."

The boys did as she instructed, smashing it to little pieces with hammers and then coating it with oil and salt, she took the lighter and lit it.

"Leave, I'll do this part." She said turning to the doll, and her son's body, crying again, "I'm so sorry." She lay him on the worktable also now, "I killed my son. I killed so many people." She turned to them and said, "Thank you, Hunters."

"It's Dean actually, that's Sam." Dean said forgiving her already, she wasn't the one who had been killing. He couldn't hate her.

"Eleanor." She said then turned to the table again, "You should leave now."

They did it and watched the place burn, the soul encouraging the flames higher with her energy.

It was over and the doll was dead.

So was a mother and a son who had been dealt a really sucky hand and never stood a chance.

"I hate magic!" Dean said harshly and hugged Sam one more time, "You okay, Sammy?" Sam shook his head, he wasn't okay. He was falling apart and he felt bad for the family that had died in the fire. He missed Tina and the chance they had to be happy, felt bad for her family, for the families and loved ones of the others.

Sam just walked to the car and let Dean hug him. It hurt too much to think right now. He felt like crying again.

So, no, Sam was not okay.

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