"I'm Dean Winchester. The Wiccan of Wichita," the Dean that was covered in dust said with a small half-smile. He shook his head, sending dust flying everywhere, before looking at the brothers before him and waited to see what would happen. He made sure his gun was clearly visible, and that it was clear he was making no move to grab it.

"And we're supposed to believe that? Who are you and how did you get here?" The non-Wiccan Dean demanded gun still steadily trained on the intruder.

"I'm not entirely sure how I got here. I was trying to find ..." the Wiccan Dean paused and swallowed hard before continuing. "I was trying to find a cure for my Sam and apparently I mixed up 'escape pain' and 'escape plane'... hence why I'm here. Though I'm not sure why Cas didn't come with me. He was right there with me. Hell, he was helping me with the spell when things started to go a little sideways."

Sam lowered his gun, confusion clear on his face as his eyebrows drew together. "You ... were casting a spell? And you're a witch?" tone incredulous as he looked for any signs of deception.

"I'm not a witch!" the dusty Dean growled as he clenched his fists in frustration. "I don't do sacrifices. Or controlling people. I'm a Wiccan. I do protective stuff. And location spells, translation, and some pretty regular healing. I'm surprised he," a gestured towards the armed Dean, "didn't start up on this a while back."

"Okay... so you're not a witch. You're a Wiccan... and you're here because you screwed up a spell?" Sam asked, trying to get the situation cleared up. His head throbbed with the situation and the left overs from the latest trial.

"You okay?" the Wiccan Dean asked, hands moving down as he took an instinctive step towards the taller Winchester. His face was full of worry as he reached out to Sam. He stopped dead in his tracks as he noted the way the other Dean moved in front of his brother, stance protective, as he helped his younger brother sit on one of the nearby chairs.

"Just wait there a minute," Dean grunted as he helped take his brother's weight and get him into a chair. He kept his gun out but decided against trying to keep it aimed at his duplicate. Once he had his brother settled he turned to the other Dean.

"I don't think he wants to hurt us," Sam murmured quietly as he let his eyes drift shut, exhaustion dragging him towards unconsciousness.

Wiccan Dean moved forward again as he watched Sam slump further into his brother's embrace. He felt the pull to help the younger man, even if he wasn't his brother in this dimension. He took several halting steps forward, certain he'd be turned away at any moment.

"Can you help him?" Dean asked, worry and desperation clear in his eyes. He turned to the other Dean and noted the way the other had moved closer, almost unconsciously.

"I can try. We can try to heal him. I was able to help my Sam a bit... but without Cas? I don't know how much I can do. He helps me when I do this kind of thing. It's very draining. But lucky for us we're in a House of Letters," he added with a small smile. "And I'm going to need some supplies. I have my BoS with me, and a few things. I can put him to sleep so he won't have nightmares. It's the best we can do for the moment."

Dean nodded in agreement even as he shook his head a little at the prospect of working with an alternate version of himself. "This is beyond weird."

"You think I do this all the time?" Wiccan Dean scoffed as he took one of Sam's arms and gestured for the other Dean to do the same. "We'll get him to a bed before I knock him out. It'll be better if we can have him help in some capacity. He's too friggin' tall for either of us to carry alone. I assume his room is over there?"

"Yeah," Dean replied, surprised for a moment before he remembered that they were practically the same, aside from some minor differences. "Your Sam wanted that one too?"

"You bet. He said it was close enough to the library that he could go whenever he wanted without waking us up," Wiccan Dean replied with a laugh and a fond look at the nearly unconscious Sam that was practically hanging between the two of them. "Of course I knew because he'd trip my wards. Still, it's the thought that counts, right?"

"Right. What kind of wards?" Dean asked, genuinely curious as he helped lower his brother onto the bed.

"Basic trip wards. To let me know who's walking through the living area. If it's Sam, Charlie or Cas ... it kind of tingles. If it's someone else it'll wake me from a dead sleep. Just a precaution. We've never had an incursion in the base, but I like to err on the side of caution. Something my Bobby taught me," Wiccan Dean replied with a sad look in his eyes.

"Sound advice. My Bobby said something similar," Dean replied with a heavy sigh as they straightened Sam out on the bed.

"Your Bobby's gone too, right?" Wiccan Dean asked as he straightened his back and stretched a bit. "I know that feeling. I was carrying his flask around and didn't realize I was dragging his spirit along with me. You'd think a Wiccan would have realized, but we all have things we can be dense about."

"Truth. So, what do we need for this ... ritual?" Dean asked as he led the way out of Sam's room and quietly shut the door behind them.

"It's a spell, not a ritual. And not a lot. Luckily I've got an angel feather left. Gonna have to resupply my stock soon. And we'll need some myrrh, sanctified dirt and chalk. I've got the chalk... might have some myrrh, you have a sanctified dirt?" Wiccan Dean asked as he opened up his bag and started pulling things out. He pulled out a worn, light tan leather book with several symbols stamped into the material and dyed a few shades darker.

"I can check in the back," Dean replied as he turned for the supply closet he'd started organizing. Neither of the brothers could find an inventory list so they'd started on a simple one of their own. Dean had done most of the work since Sam wasn't in the best shape to deal with it.

Wiccan Dean moved to an open area in the atrium and started drawing on the ground, carefully copying from one of the pages in his book. He barely glanced up when the other Dean walked in with a couple of jars of dirt.

"What kind of sanctified dirt? I have new and old church. Consecrated grave dirt, or Vatican dirt?" Dean asked as he held up each jar as he named them.

"Any of them will do, though I'd save the Vatican dirt for something that needs more power. That place has been blessed so many times I'm surprised the dirt doesn't glow with it's own holy pretentiousness," Wiccan Dean replied with a snort as he finished the symbol on the floor. He'd taken off his outer most jacket and laid it on the back of a chair while he worked, which only showed off how dusty he was. "Any chance I can take a few minutes to get cleaned up? I can leave my BoS open for you, just don't touch it."

"Why?" Dean asked as he set down one of the jars and looked over at the book, curiosity piqued.

"Because you don't have your innate magic harnessed and the book would likely feedback to you. It'd hurt, but if you don't believe me, be my guest. Just don't say I didn't warn you," Wiccan Dean shot back with a challenging smirk on his face as he headed for the nearest bathroom to wash some of the dust and dirt off. "If you'd put the dirt, feather and myrrh in place I'll be back in a few minutes."

"Got it," Dean replied as he gave the book a wide berth. He really didn't want to get zapped today. He looked over his own neat handwriting and poured out the required amounts to the right symbols. "Hey, does this thing say it needs blood?" he called.

"Just a few drops of donated blood," Wiccan Dean said from just behind the other Dean, he grinned with the other nearly jumped out of his skin. "It's a connection to the caster. Helps draw the power from within. Don't worry. I'm not killing chickens or people. It's a little more than when we use a knife to check if someone's a shifter or not."

"Great, so now we just need Sam?" Dean asked as he smoothed out his shirt in an effort to look like he wasn't affected by the sudden scare.

"Yup. He's been out for a hour, should be enough to wake him up and get him out here," Wiccan Dean replied with a deep, steadying breath. "Let's go get Sammy and see what I can do for him. Then I'll work on trying to find a way home. Not for nothing, but I've got people waiting for me. And I'm sure a few of them are freaking out."

"I'm sure they are, if they're anything like my people here," Dean replied as he led the way to Sam's room.

TBC ...