AN:Well here's chapter two. Sorry things are getting off kind of slow. The beginning is always the toughest to write. (It doesn't help that it's finals week.) Enjoy nonetheless.
Throbbing.
That's the first thing Dean felt as he came to. A hand reaches up to gingerly rub at his forehead; deep pain radiated from the center and out. It felt as if his heart was beating alongside his brain. "Damn it." Dean groaned.
His eyelids were glowing a faint orange, which meant he was somewhere supplying direct light. Wait, wasn't he in a warehouse. A pitch black warehouse? No, it was a shoe factory! Hold on, shoe factory? Why was he there? Vampires! He was attacked, that's it. Well, ambushed more or less.
Slowly the chain of events leading to his blackout came trickling in. He and Cas were going their own way, since they split up with Sam…Sammy! Surely there couldn't have been any vamps over where his brother had headed. From the brief glimpse he had around the factory floor, before he dropped his flashlight, he had made out at least 12 vampires. Sam was pretty close in his estimate. The whole nest must have collected down the right passage.
After a moment of internal questioning, Dean concluded that he and Castiel had stumbled onto the nest, which resulted in a head on attack. He had lost control pretty damn quick and after a few slams to his head, Dean had passed out. Too bad. He thought. He had prided himself on his ability to remain conscious after a particularly tough fight.
Enough is enough, though. He's spent too long mulling things over in his brain.
Dean blinked open his eyes, still unaware of how there was light. A solution presented itself quickly. Above him the sun beat down through the rolled open window of a car. He immediately recognized the door below said window. This car was his baby.
Good. He thought. Cas must have mojo'ed me out of there.
Dean sat up carefully to avoid agitating his pounding head. After a few more blinks to adjust his vision, Dean surveyed his surroundings. Well I'm sure as hell not anywhere near that damn factory. Sam and Cas must have hauled me back to the motel or something. A glance to the back seat confirmed that he was alone.
The landscape around him was something pulled out of a magazine. It was nowhere near the crummy motels and abandoned lots that surrounded the factory he was just in.
No this was a high-class neighborhood by the looks of it. Perfectly trimmed green lawns adorned every house. Fancy, expensive looking, black-wire fences boxed in each property. Each house was different from the next. The place practically screamed rich and snobby.
Dean scrunched his nose in confusion. What in the world was he doing here?
He stepped out of the Impala, steadying his slight wobble, and for the first time, realized his car was parked in the driveway of one of these 'fancy-ass' houses. Dean raised his hands to the air in question. Where was everyone and why was he parked at this house?
"Hello?" Dean's voice rang out for the first time, piercing the silence that blanketed the area. But of course, there was no answer in return. Dean huffed a sigh and resolutely began his quest for answers.
First step, ring the doorbell.
Dean started the walk down the cobblestone path that led to a large wooden porch surrounded by small oak trees. A few rocking chairs and tables were set out on the porch giving a warm vibe to incomers. The place was pretty private; Oak trees were scattered around the massive front yard, blocking the view of the equally massive house. He wouldn't mind living here. It was nice.
He reached the door and pressed a finger to the doorbell. As Dean waited for an answer he absent-mindedly scuffed his boot against the wood of the porch. Who was going to answer? He desperately needed answers. Impatiently, he reached for the doorbell again, but halted his movements. Were those warding sigils carved into the frame of the door?
Before a closer inspection was allowed the door suddenly pulled open. "What are you!?" The door-opener shouted.
Dean wasn't granted the opportunity to answer. A splash of water pelted him square in the face. He sputtered and frantically wiped the water away from his eyes. "What the hell man?" He shouted, equally as loud as the other.
He shot a quick look up at the other man's face and gasped in surprise. The shock sent him staggering back a few steps. A hand reached out and clung to the wooden railing of the porch. "What are you!?" Dean mimed. He glared at the man.
The glare that answered him back was identical.
After regaining his bearings Dean advanced. This man in this house was another Dean. Spitting image; exactly the same save the slightly longer hair.
The second Dean raised a hand, ready for a fight. "Stay back." The man growled. Dean raised his hands in surrender. "Hey man, I come in peace." Tentatively he took another step forward and held his hand out. "Look, I have no fucking clue what's going on here either alright? Calm down." He tried reasoning. "Why should I trust you?" Came the reply. Dean offered a shrug. "We've been sent to the future before right. I probably got zapped here again." Yeah that sounds good. You're probably in the future.
The other Dean narrowed his eyes in suspicion. "You're from the past?" He didn't sound entirely convinced. "Let me in and I'll explain it all." Dean reasoned.
The doppelganger hesitated. His eyes flashed to the right and back before he reached for his stashed gun. He raised it to Dean's head and nodded. "Alright, let's hear it."