It had been nearly two months since Bobby's house burned down. After Bobby had rescued Sam and Dean from the hospital, they'd picked up Mack and the Impala and had been camping out in one of Rufus' old hunting cabins. Bobby had Chet, a Leviathan they'd captured, tied up in the basement and was trying different things to see if he could figure out how to kill them. Or at least, slow them down until they found a more permanent solution. "Okay, Chet. Let's see how you like a little fruit of the poison tree," Bobby said, picking up a syringe.

"Isn't that just a legal expression?" the Leviathan asked. "You're gonna wish it was." Bobby stabbed the syringe into Chet's thigh. The creature smacked his lips. "Mmm. Okay. Similar finish to holy water, not as bitter as rock salt," he mused. Sam and Dean came down the stairs. "And how are my two favorite meat-sicles?" Chet asked. "Ooh, where's the little one? I really like her." Dean glared at him. "You're not getting anywhere near her," he growled, then turned to Bobby. "Why's he still sucking air?"

"Greatest hits didn't do the trick. I'm down to B-sides and deep cuts," Bobby replied. "Well, you better figure out something quick. That whammy that witch dude put on him is only gonna last for a few days. He gets his spinach back, we're gonna end up having to drop a car on him just to stop him." Chet laughed, "Actually… didn't the little girl tell you? Edgar walked away from that car. He's fine. Well, he is a little pissed at you, but- Oh. So she didn't tell you?"

"Why don't you shut your cake-trap?" Dean snapped. He really hated the obsession all the Leviathans they'd encountered so far had with Mack. They claimed that since Cas was her guardian angel, and they'd been in Cas, Cas' need to keep Mack safe and care for her had rubbed off on them. "Ooh," Chet taunted, grinning at him. "Bobby… you've been using all this stuff and he still won't talk?" Sam questioned, staring at the array of items on the table. Bobby shook his head and Dean pulled up a stool, sitting close to Chet. "Huddle over, coach?"

"How'd you find us?" Dean growled. "It was easy. I used pattern recognition software and a basic heuristic algorithm to track your known aliases." Bobby frowned, "Great. Just what we need- a Mensa Monster." Dean got up, going back to stand next to Sam. "Alright. Let's just get with the start. Where'd you get our aliases?"

"From your trench coated friend, obviously. When we were all nestled in at Camp Cas, kind of got the full download. That's just how we do. Little miss Mack knows." Dean clenched his jaw, "Don't you say her name. You don't get to talk about her." Chet just smirked at him knowingly. "So, why are you talking to us, Chet?" Bobby asked, changing the subject. "You're not dumb. Why you spilling state secrets?" The Leviathan's smile widened. "'Cause I'm not scared of you. You can't stop me. You can't stop any of us. We can't be killed, you stupid little chew toys. You are aware that I'm the least of your concerns, right?" He took in their confused faces. "Oh. You haven't watched the news today, have you?"

They headed upstairs, turning the news on TV. "The two men, who up until today were presumed dead, locked the doors and opened fire, leaving no survivors. Sam and Dean Winchester are now the subjects of a manhunt throughout the state of California." The image cut to black and white security footage at a bank of Sam and Dean. Dean looked straight at the camera, winked, and then they both opened fire on the hostages in the bank vault. Bobby turned off the screen. "Daddy?" Mack asked worriedly, staring up at her father.

"Busy morning, you two?" Bobby quipped before Dean could respond. "Those sons of bitches xeroxed us," Dean growled. "But I don't understand how," Sam frowned. "I don't know," Bobby shrugged, heading over and taking a beer out of the fridge. "Maybe one of 'em touched you at the hospital."

"It was the hair!" Chet yelled up from the basement. "Not too hard to lift some DNA from a motel shower drain, guys!" Dean was livid. "You can copy people like that?" he asked. Bobby shrugged again. "Awesome. Well, what's their plan, exactly?" Dean continued. "Squeeze us. Turn us into the most wanted men in America," Sam stated. "Alright. Well, that settles it. We find these ass monkeys, and we kill them ourselves."

"Wait a sec," Bobby protested. "Every form of law enforcement in the country has seen your ugly mugs this morning." The brothers nodded. "Exactly," Dean said. "So what's the point in trying to hide?" Bobby glared, "Better than sticking your fool neck out. These things are smarter than you." Downstairs, Chet laughed, able to hear every word. "Geez, Bobby, don't sugarcoat it," Sam deadpanned. "You don't have a clue how to kill 'em or slow 'em down, and your plan is, what? Go right at 'em? Genius."

"They're wearing our faces, Bobby. This is personal."

"Yeah, I'm with Dean here."

"Well, if you're gonna be stupid, you might as well be smart about it. You need to see a fella named Frank Davreuax." Bobby grabbed a pen and paper, scribbling something down. "Who's that?" Sam asked. "He's a jackass and a lunatic, but he owes me one, from back in Port Huron." Bobby handed the paper with an address on it to Dean. "In the meantime, I'll keep working on Chatty Cathy here, see if I can figure out what makes him die."

"What about Mack?" Dean asked. He didn't want to leave her behind with Chet in the basement, but taking her with also wasn't an option since they were going after their murderous Leviathan doubles. "Leave her with me," Bobby told him. "What about the customer in the basement?" Bobby gave him a look. "She won't go down there. Besides, better here than out there chasing Thing One and Thing Two, don't you think?" Dean scowled. He still didn't like it, but Bobby had a point. Having her stay behind seemed the lesser of the two evils. "I'll be fine, Daddy," Mack chimed in. "Alright, fine," Dean sighed, Mack's words seeming to do it for him. "Sammy, let's go."

After an encounter at a Gas n' Sip where the cashier made Sam, the brothers finished the journey to Frank's. "You sure this is the right place?" Dean asked Sam. They'd pulled up to an unlit house at the end of a narrow road late that night. "Yeah," Sam nodded. They headed to the front door and knocked. "Frank, you in there? Frank?" Sam called. They entered the house. "Frank?" They made their way through the dark house. "Frank? Frank, anybody here? Hello? Anybody home?" Suddenly, a lamp turned on and the brothers both turned and then froze. Frank Deuvreaux was sitting in an armchair pointing a gun at them. "Well, well. Spider caught some flies," he smiled.

Sam and Dean exchanged a worried look. "Well, I'll be darned," Frank continued. "Psycho Butch and Sundance. You're on CNN right now." Sam shook his head, stammering. "No, no, t-that's not us." Frank nodded, "I know. Can't be. Unless you had a teleporter." He paused then, eyeing the brothers suspiciously. "Do you have a teleporter?" Dean shook his head. "No, sir, we don't," Sam vocalized. "Well, my condolences on the doppelgangers. Now, who sent you? NSA? The Feeb? March of Dimes?"

"Uh, Bobby Singer sent us," Dean replied. Frank growled, standing up and cocking his weapon. "Or not. Who?" Dean quickly backtracked, holding up his hands placatingly. "H-he said you could help," Sam said. "He said you owed him, from Port Huron." There was a pause and then Frank lowered his gun. "Guy saves your life one time, and, what, you owe him the rest of yours?" Dean shrugged, hands still up, "That's generally how it works, yeah." Frank pointed the gun at him again and then lowered it while making an exasperated noise.

A few minutes later, Frank was feeding every single one of their ID's through a shredder. Sam and Dean were watching the security footage of their doppelgangers playing on several different screens. "Oh, yeah. I know that Bobby's into that magic hooey, but truth is, the government has been cloning people for years," Frank ranted. "Guess it was just your turn in the barrel." Sam frowned, "Well, actually-" Dean shook his head at Sam. "Forget it. He's rolling," he told him.

"Yours have been busy beavers," Frank continued. "You're number two on the most wanted list. Quickest climb up the charts since Donna Summer." Sam sighed, "So what do you think you should do?"

"Cuba's nice this time of year."

"No, we're not hiding," Dean shook his head. "Is he always this stupid?" Frank addressed Sam. "Look, we uh-" Dean started as Frank turned on some classical music, "we got to stick around and kick a couple asses. So, we just need you to get us further off the grid, but keep us on the board." Frank rolled his eyes. "Well, first thing we got to do is wipe your old aliases. No more rock shoutouts. It's Tom and John Smith from now on. And no plastic. Cash only. And change your phones on a…"

He threw Sam and Dean each a new burner, "...very frequent non-schedule schedule, you understand? Oh, and try to stay out of view of the two hundred million cameras the government has access to, 'kay?" Dean blinked. "Two hundred million?" Frank got close in his space. "Big Brother, he has many eyeballs my friend," he said low and conspiratorially. "You see a place that even looks like it can afford security…" He took a laptop out of a bag. "You just ease on down the road. This… this is your laptop, right?"

"Yeah. That's mine," Sam confirmed. Raising the computer above his head, Frank smashed it against the desk multiple times. "What- gee- hey- what are you- what was that?!" Sam asked with each hit. Frank pulled out a new laptop, handing it to Sam. "Uh… Thank you, I guess," Sam took it. "No problem. You owe me five grand, cash."

"What?"

"What?"

"Unless you want to go comparison shopping at the mall, sweet cheeks," Frank answered. "Say hi to the cops from me." Sam and Dean frowned, not moving. "Okay." Frank grabbed Dean by the jacket, pushing him against the wall. "Let's Blue Steel you some new ID, Mr…" he snapped Dean's picture, "... and Mr…" he did the same with Sam, "...Smith." After printing them out the ID's, labeled with the names Thomas and John Smith, Frank put them in the cigar box where they'd kept their old aliases. He then handed Sam a map. "I marked all the towns your stunt doubles hit so you can see the pattern."

"Alright, great. Um, so, what is the pattern?" Sam questioned him. "No clue, man. I can't see it." Sam furrowed his brow, looking at the five spots marked on the map. "Seems random," he said. "Little tip from a pro- there is no such thing as a random series of robbery murders by your evil twins," Frank replied. "Well, have yourself some uppers and look at that some more." He patted Sam on the shoulder. "Good luck."

"Thanks, Frank."

"For what? Sending you to your death? Your doubles want to be on candid camera, put you in the line of fire. Now, I'd lay low, 'cause I love life and its infinite mysteries. But you two want to be dumb, that's fine. At least have the common sense to ditch your car."

"Wh- uh, excuse me, what?" Dean asked, totally appalled by that suggestion. "Your doublemints- they're using a car just like the one outside."

"Put that thing down," Bobby barked. Mack looked up at him from the newspaper she'd picked up from the table. The headline read 'Killer Duo Still at Large' and had her father and uncle's Blue Steel's from prison above the caption, '#2, FBI'S MOST WANTED LIST'. "Your daddy wouldn't want you looking at that," he continued. "But I figured out the pattern," Mack informed him. She straightened the newspaper out against the table, showing him the map identifying the five places the Leviathans had stopped. She'd written notes next to each stop.

"What is it, then?" Bobby asked. He hadn't been able to see a pattern in the locations himself. "They're places Daddy and Uncle Sammy worked jobs," Mack explained. "They started in Jericho, where they got rid of the Woman in White, then went to Blackwater Ridge where they worked a Wendigo case, then Lake Manitoc with the ghost drownings…" She was interrupted when there was a knock at the door. Bobby indicated she be quiet, grabbing his gun and going to peer through the peephole. He then pulled back, smoothed his beard out, and answered the door. Jody Mills, the sheriff from Sioux Falls, was on the other side.

"Jody!" Mack cried excitedly. "Hey, sweetheart," the sheriff smiled at the young girl. "What the… What the hell are you doing here?" Bobby asked her. "You're all charm, Bobby," Jody deadpanned, making Mack giggle. "So my therapist keeps telling me," Bobby quipped back. "How'd you find us?" Jody rolled her eyes. "I'm a cop, remember?" She held up a plastic bag and a six-pack. "You gonna invite me in?"

"Well, you may not want me to. I got one of the big mouths downstairs."

"So, I won't go downstairs."

Jody pushed past Bobby into the cabin. As soon as she'd set down the items in her hands, Mack jumped up from her chair and ran over to give her a hug. She and the sheriff had bonded during the zombie case in Sioux Falls way back before the apocalypse and now she viewed the sheriff like the mother she never had. "It's good to see you, Mack," Jody told her, squeezing her tightly. "You gonna tell me what you're doing here?" Bobby asked, closing the door. "I, uh… I wanted to come thank you," she answered. "Thank me?"

"Well, yeah… Seeing as they were fresh out of 'thanks for saving me from liver-eating surgeon' cards at the store." Mack looked from her to Bobby and back. Bobby seemed uncomfortable with the attention. "Oh, that," he shifted in place. "Just doing my job, which nobody pays me for." Jody smirked, "Right. How you doing, Bobby?" Bobby swallowed, averting his gaze. "I'm fine. Everyday is a gift."

"Your house just burned down."

"As you can see, I got a roof over me."

"Bobby!" Jody snapped, then lowered her voice. "Let someone be nice to you for five minutes?" Bobby's shoulders relaxed. "Okay. But not too nice. I can't be going soft." Jody smiled, "'Course not. I can cook. Ish. You know? Why don't I make you something? Maybe put this new place of yours in some kind of order while I keep an eye on Mack for you. Come on. I owe you that much." Bobby nodded. "Okay. Thanks, Sheriff."

"Jody."

A small, old hatchback drove down the road. Inside, a yellow My Little Pony was dangling from the rearview mirror. Dean reached up, squeezing it and it squeaked. He then took out his knife, cutting it down and tossing it in the backseat before putting his hands back on the wheel. It squeaked again when it landed. "You okay?" Sam asked his brother in concern. "You know it's bad enough they're ganking people wearing our mugs, but now this? Have us driving around in this… this caboodle while Baby's on lockdown."

"It's temporary, Dean."

"Nobody puts Baby in a corner," Dean grumbled. There was a pause, and Sam frowned. "Y-you know that's a line, from-" he started. "Swayze movie," Dean snapped, pointing at Sam. "Swayze always gets a pass!" Sam blinked. "Right. Uh, well, you want some tunes, or something? Here." He turned on the radio and Air Supply's 'All out of Love' started playing. "Sorry, man, I-I…" Sam stammered. "Just leave it," Dean told him. "Probably gonna be the only thing on." Sam went back to trying to figure out the pattern on the map Frank gave them, but got distracted when Dean started lip-syncing along to the music. They did a back-and-forth thing for a few minutes where he would look over and Dean would stop and then start back up again when he looked away.

Finally, Sam just reached forward, turning the radio off again. Dean huffed at the silence as Sam went back to staring at the map. That was when his phone rang. "Hello?"

"I figured out the pattern." Sam quickly put the phone on speaker. "What do you mean, Kinley?" Dean looked over in surprise as his daughter's voice carried through the phone. "The Leviathans are stopping at places you killed monsters," she said. Sam's jaw dropped, looking at the map in his lap again and realizing she was right. Jericho… Blackwater Ridge… Lake Manitoc… "Oh my God. So, the next place would be Saint Louis," he said.

"No, they just stopped there," Mack told him. "They didn't hit a restaurant there, did they?" Dean asked. "Connor's Diner?" There was a pause. "Yeah, they did," Bobby spoke. "How'd you know?" Dean grimaced, "Lucky guess." Sam gave Dean a sympathetic look. "Hey, Bobby, you haven't by chance figured out how we can deal with these guys yet, have you?"

"Well, I did figure out chopping their heads off won't kill 'em, but it'll slow 'em down pretty good. Till the fuse back up, anyhow," he answered. "Well, that's something, I guess. I mean, assuming we can even get close to them," Sam stated. "Believe me, I don't want you walking right up to 'em, either. I'm still looking for something you can shoot at 'em."

"Good times," Dean huffed. "Alright, thanks, Bobby. Mack still there?"

"Yeah, she went to help Jody with the sandwiches," Bobby answered. "Jody? Mills? As in the Sheriff?" Sam asked. "What's she doing there?" They could practically see Bobby's eye roll. "Wanted to thank me for saving her from the Leviathans at the hospital. Where you two headin' next?" Sam frowned, studying the map. Since the doubles had already hit Saint Louis, the next stop would be, "Uh… I guess we're off to… to Ankeny, Iowa. Call us if you get anything else."

"You got it." Sam hung up.

Sam and Dean were heading down a street in Ankeny when suddenly a familiar black Impala passed them. "Sam, Sam," Dean put a hand out. "Hold up. Don't move. Don't move." The Impala, containing the Leviathan Sam and Dean, did a U-turn and parked on the other side of the street. They climbed out of the car. "Oh, no," the real Sam groaned. "This is all sorts of wrong." Dean was staring at their Impala. "Those are nice wheels. Tell you what, when this is over, I'm stealing those rims." He pulled out his phone to make a call.

"Yeah," Bobby answered. "Bobby, we got eyes on them," Dean told him. "What?" Across the street, the Leviathan Dean opened the trunk of the Impala. "It's like looking in a funhouse mirror," Dean muttered. "Yeah, I know the feeling," Bobby answered- Chet had morphed so he now looked like Bobby. "Alright, well tell me you got something. Otherwise, we're gonna have to get in close." Sam and Dean walked a little further down the street, closer to where the Impala was parked. "Look, just hang back for now," Bobby told Dean. "It's too late. We gotta-" Dean was cut off as a police car pulled up in front of him and Sam with the sirens on. "Hang on," he said.

A Sheriff and another officer got out of the car pointing their guns at the actual Winchesters. "Hands in the air!" the Sheriff yelled as another car pulled up. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa," Dean protested. "Big misunderstanding." The Deputies from the second vehicle were pointing their guns at the Winchesters from behind. "Look, the guys you want-"

"Shut up!"

"They're right there," Dean continued, nodding across the street at the Leviathan doubles. "Shut up! Drop the phone. Put your hands in the air." Dean swallowed. "Dean?" Bobby asked. Dean put the phone down. "Dean!" Bobby yelled through the phone again. "Cuff 'em," the Sheriff ordered. The Deputies behind Sam and Dean put them in handcuffs. Dean glanced across the street at his doppelganger. The Leviathans had gotten back into the Impala, and the one with his face winked at him through the open window.

Chet was still chained up in Bobby's form. Bobby paced the room with a book. "You know the thing about you, Bobby…" Chet began. "Save it. I already know me, handsome," Bobby grumbled. "You got the gruff thing down. Seen more death than the electric chair. Ready to die with your boots on. But, you know, deep down inside… you're no cynic. You still hope. Even got a thing for that lady upstairs. Tiny part of you thinks, maybe… after all this is done, you and Miss Sheriff can make your own cabin in the woods."

Bobby closed the book, putting it down. Chet laughed. "That's hilarious. You're not getting any older than tomorrow, Bobby. Why do you bother?" Bobby picked up a machete. "You a Browning fan?" he asked. "Come again?" Chet questioned. "Robert Browning. Poet. You got that name rattling around up there with the rest of my thoughts and feelings?"

"It's kind of hard to sift through all the drunken blackouts, but-" Chet started. "'A man's reach should exceed his grasp'," Bobby quoted. "I like that," Chet mused. "That's actually lovely. Browning? After I eat you, I'm definitely gonna hit the library." Bobby raised his machete. Suddenly, several drops of liquid dropped down from the ceiling, burning Chet's arm. "What the hell is that?" Chet asked. Bobby watched, dumbstruck, as more drops fell on the monster's arm, turning the skin yellow then black, and steam started rising from the wound. "Get it off. Get it off! Get it off!" Another drop fell. "Get it off me!" Chet screamed. More of the liquid fell through the cracks in the ceiling, burning the creature's face as well. "Aaargh! Get it off me!"

Bobby ignored him, running up the stairs. Jody and Mack were on the floor, cleaning up a spill from lunch. "Oh, sorry," Jody stood. "Little snafu here." Bobby grabbed her face in both hands and kissed her. Mack stared, mouth agape. Jody looked shocked when Bobby pulled back. "Mm! Okay, wasn't expecting that reaction," Jody said. "What the hell was in that bucket?" Bobby asked.

Sam and Dean were being escorted into the Ankeny Sheriff's office by the arresting officers. "Look, you're making a mistake," Sam said. "The real killers are back at the diner, okay?" The Sheriff chuckled. "Is that the best you can do?" Dean scowled, "I want my phone call." The Sheriff smirked. "Oh, there'll be a call, to the FBI. Take him," the Sheriff gestured to Dean, "to cell number one. Take that one," he indicated Sam next, "to the interview room. Once they're separate and secure, you boys call it a night."

"You're making a mistake!" Sam yelled again as he and Dean were dragged off in opposite directions. After they were secure, the two officers who cuffed them left the building. Across the street, Leviathan Sam and Dean watched in the Impala. As soon as the officers were gone, they got out and headed toward the building. They entered disguised as the two officers that had just left. "What, did you guys forget something or what?" a third Deputy asked. The Leviathan disguised as the Deputy who cuffed Sam walked up behind him and snapped his neck. His face transformed into its true form with the large mouth, sharp teeth and forked tongue.

Meanwhile, in the holding block, Dean was arguing with the Sheriff. "Hey. I have a right to my phone call." The Sheriff scoffed. "A right? You killed how many people last couple of days, and you want me to hop-to on your rights?" Dean pursed his lips, desperate. "I didn't- please- just give me one- one phone call." The Sheriff fixed him with a hard look, and then finally relented. He held the phone while Dean talked to Bobby. "Boys?" Bobby answered. "Bobby, we got popped," Dean told him. "Okay. I'll be there as soon as-"

"No, no, there's no time. Look, we saw them… They saw us. So, we are coming to get us. You read me? Tell me you got something," Dean said. "There's a chemical… sodium borate," Bobby replied. "Okay, let me get Mr. Wizard on speed dial," Dean quipped. "No, no, it ain't as weird as it sounds. It's found in industrial cleaners and soaps and laundry powder. Just look for anything with the word Borax on it." Dean furrowed his brow. "You want me to 'Desperate Housewife' these mothers?"

"No, just trust me. It burns 'em bad enough to slow 'em down. So get the strongest you can find. Hear me?" Bobby ordered. "Borax. Burns. Got it," Dean nodded. "Then douse 'em, then get close, and then chop the heads off." Dean nodded again, "Got it."

"And keep the heads separate!"

"Bobby, you're a genius. Thanks. I-" Dean cut off as the Sheriff abruptly snapped the phone shut, ending the call. "What'd you do that for?" Dean demanded. "Borax? Decapitation? What kind of sickos are you and your friends?" the Sheriff shook his head, starting to walk away. "Hey, you listen to me," Dean called after him. He paused, turning back to look at Dean. "If you don't get every ounce, every drop of whatever that stuff is in this place right now, we're all gonna die!"

"Well, you're crazier than I thought," the Sheriff replied, walking away. "Hey!" Dean yelled, but it was no use. The Sheriff walked back toward the main room, but paused when he spotted the Leviathan who'd killed the third Deputy leaning over the body on the desk, eating him. The other Leviathan walked in. "What are you doing?" the newcomer asked. The first Leviathan straightened up, face covered in blood and holding a strip of flesh. "What is your problem? We don't have time for lunch right now."

"I was hungry," the first Leviathan defended himself. "Later," Leviathan two told him. "Let's go." Leviathan one morphed into Sam and Leviathan two morphed into Dean, leaving the room. The Sheriff backtracked, heading back to Dean's cell. "What is it? What happened?" Dean spotted the look on the Sheriff's face. "I… It's just… I don't know what I just saw," the Sheriff said. "Let me out of here." The Sheriff complied, unlocking Dean's cell and letting him out. "Okay, you listen to me, and we live. Alright, keep your head down, get to the supply closet. Get anything that says Borax on it- bring it here. Now. Go!"

In the interrogation room, Sam was cuffed to the table when Dean entered. "Dean!" Sam held out his cuffs. "I'm not your brother," the Leviathan told him, closing the door and walking over to stand across the table from Sam. "But I am Dean adjacent." Outside the room, Dean took the gun from the dead Deputy. "Sorry," he apologized. He turned, spotting Sam. "Sammy," he said, then realized from his expression it was the Leviathan and raised his gun. "Not Sammy." He shot at the Leviathan. Leviathan Sam knocked the gun away, throwing Dean into a trophy cabinet. The Sheriff came in while they fought, dousing the Leviathan with a bucket of Borax.

The Leviathan started to sizzle and Dean cut off his head, black goo spilling from its neck. Meanwhile, Leviathan Dean was taunting Sam. "I just want to let you know how much I've really grown to hate you and your brother since we've been wearing you. I just don't get it. You could be anything. You're strong, you're uninhibited… other than that precious little niece of yours. You're smart enough, believe it or not. But you're so caught up in being good and taking care of each other."

"Why do you care?" Sam asked. "Because it pisses me off!" the Leviathan yelled, leaning on the table. "You're wasting a perfectly good opportunity to subjugate the weak." He straightened up. "Here's the deal. Dean… thinks you're nutballs. He thinks you're off your game." Sam glared up at the Leviathan. "You gonna kill me, or is this some kind of 'play with your food' bull?" he asked. "Alright. Alright," the Leviathan conceded, then made one more dig. "You know, I guess that's why Dean never told you that he killed Amy."

Sam's face morphed into shock and alarm, and the Leviathan grinned excitedly. "There it is. The look on your face. That is priceless! That's what I've been waiting for. Now I can eat you. 'Cause, you see," he leaned back against the table, getting in Sam's face, "I like my meat a little bitter." Just then, the real Dean burst into the room, flinging Borax at his double before cutting off its head. He grinned over at Sam, "Well, that felt good."

The Sheriff walked over, uncuffing Sam. "So… the FBI is on the way," the Sheriff informed them. "Yeah, listen, about that…" Dean started. "Whatever I can do… Especially if it involves lying about everything I just saw." Dean smiled, "Good. I was kind of hoping you could help us kind of… be dead. You know, quote unquote."

"Yeah," the Sheriff nodded. "Yeah, I should be able to swing that. Alright."

"Come on. Let's grab a mop."

The Sheriff exited, and Dean moved to follow him, and then stopped when he realized Sam hadn't gotten out of his chair. "Sammy? You okay?" Sam looked up at his older brother, nodding briefly and turning away. "Yeah, I'm fine," he muttered. "Let's go," Dean headed out. Sam remained seated for a moment longer, thinking about what the Leviathan Dean had told him.

On a pier, Dean opened the trunk of the hatchback, which contained the My Little Pony he'd cut down, Cas' trench coat, and a canvas bag. He unzipped the bag, which contained both the Leviathans' heads wrapped in plastic. He sighed. "Are you sure you want to dump these things? I'm thinking they may come in handy down the road? What do you think?" he looked at Sam. The younger Winchester was leaning against the side of the hatchback, brooding and silent. "Hey. What? What is it? Talk."

"Nothing," Sam answered. "Well, that's convincing," Dean scoffed. "Did monster-us give you the jeebs, huh? 'Cause I gotta be honest- I ain't looking in the mirror for- for a while myself." Sam straightened, turning to face his big brother. "Okay. You wanna know what's really wrong?" he asked. "Yeah. Yeah, you know my- here to help." Sam scoffed, shaking his head. "'Here to help,'" he echoed. "Kind of like you helped Amy?" Dean swallowed, looking at him. "Listen, Sam…"

"Don't- don't lie to me again. No, don't even talk to me. Yeah, I can't." Sam opened the rear passenger door, grabbing his backpack. "You know what Dean?" he started to walk away. "I can't." Dean took a few steps toward him. "You can't what?" he pressed. "I can't talk to you right now! Dean…" Sam turned back to face him, carrying a duffel in addition to his backpack. "I can't even be around you right now!"

"Okay, so-"

"I think you should go on without me." There was a long pause, and then Dean nodded. "What do you want me to tell Mack?" Sam shook his head. "Tell her whatever you want. Just go." Dean nodded again. "Alright. Sorry, Sam." Dean turned back to the car and Sam walked away.