The New Adventures of Sam and Dean. The Other Ones.
K Hanna Korossy

Turned out, it was a lot easier to break into the space between universes than it was into an alternate universe itself. A little regular angel grace courtesy of Cas, a slightly modified spell, and a flash of light announced an actual hole opening, not just the rifts they usually slipped through. And then they were stepping through.

Sam had gotten a brief look at them before, of course, along with their ridiculously tiny car. Seriously, how did that Sam's legs fit? Because he was as tall as Sam, looked like him physically in every feature down to the mole on his face.

That was where the likeness ended.

Sam was able to really look this time, and every detail added to his incredulity. The maroon jacket, well-cut and clearly expensive. Fancy leather shoes with no socks. A ridiculous scarf. And, most of all, a man bun. The last time Sam had worn his hair like that, it had been to keep the water out of his eyes as he'd dragged a feverish Dean into the shower.

He doubted these two had ever had moments like that. There were no visible scars, for one, and the other Sam moved with an easy grace that rejected a history of broken bones and strained muscles. This Sam didn't look or dress or move like a hunter.

The other Dean was a little less…different. He had the fancy clothes, too, and his hair was a touch longer, but he didn't seem quite so upper class. Sam could imagine his brother dressed up like that for a job, except for one thing. This alternate Dean didn't seem weighted with all their baggage, permanently exhausted, physically and emotionally. There was no darkness in his eyes and hardness in his face, and the obvious difference, the glimpse of what his brother could have been, made Sam's heart ache.

Then the other Sam opened his mouth, and Sam's reflections came to a screeching halt.

"Oh, Lord, did we end up on some kind of lumberjack world?"

Introductions were made, explanations given. The other Sam and Dean even thanked them for the rescue. Then Dean asked them to stand in for him and Sam while they went to Hell to seek the Occultum, and, the coward, tasked Sam with getting the alternates—copies? fakes?—suited up. Or, more appropriately, suited down.

The other Dean—Dean 2—seemed mostly curious about Dean's wardrobe, choosing jeans and a flannel shirt like a kid playing dress-up. They left him to change while Sam took his double to his room for his own change of clothes.

It was pretty obvious the other Sam found this role play distasteful, however, from his wrinkled nose at the sight of Sam's closet, to the strained smile as Sam gave him the ten-cent tour of his room.

"So many books," Sam 2 murmured. "You've…read all these?"

"Most of them." Sam wasn't even going to mention the library. "Don't you do research for hunts?" It was still hard to imagine these two hunting. Did they wear jumpsuits over their fine clothes to keep off the monster ick?

"Oh, we have a team for that," Sam 2 said dismissively, scanning the room.

"Huh." Dean would have a cow if it turned out that Dean 2 was the more bookish of their pair. Sam sat on the edge of his bed and watched his twin poke glumly through his shirts with one finger. "So…did your mom die, too, when you were a kid?"

Sam 2 turned to him, and the first sign of real emotion briefly creased his face. "Yes. A werewolf killed her. Father didn't even know until then that she was a hunter."

Sam blinked. "A werewolf?"

The alternate turned to study Sam. "Of course. Isn't that how you became hunters, too?"

"Uh, no. Mom was killed by a demon, and…" He trailed off as Sam 2's eyes grew wide.

"There are demons in your world?" Sam 2's mouth set like he'd decided he was being pranked and didn't appreciate it. He folded his arms. "Next you'll tell me there's such a thing as angels."

Sam's mind reeled. No demons or angels. That meant no Castiel. Or Azazel tainting Sam as a baby. Had their copies had to deal with anything Sam and Dean had: the deaths, the rise of Lucifer and start of the Apocalypse, the stints in Hell, Eve and Leviathan and Lucifer and Michael and Lilith and Amara? Or was their "job" all just run-of-the-mill spirits and vampires and werewolves?

A little more probing, and Sam had the full picture. Sam 2 had gotten his law degree, and dated a girl named Jessica with whom things hadn't worked out. Dean 2 had an engineering degree, and could fly the corporate planes. None of them had ever died—"What a ridiculous question!"—and Sam 2 had no idea who Jody Mills, Jack Kline, Charlie Bradbury, or Crowley were, and only a faint recollection of a Bobby Singer. If their world was to have an Apocalypse, it hadn't happened yet, and now never would.

No wonder these versions of Sam and Dean didn't seem world-weary and bitter.

But…they also had no close friends, no one they really mourned with their world's end. They didn't even seem that worried about their AWOL father. And when Sam asked more about alternate-Dean, Sam 2 spoke fondly about his brother but without much concern. "Oh, we often hunt separately, and of course we take separate vacations. We're not joined at the hip!"

Uh, right. Of course not. They probably each got separate fancy suites in hotels on hunts, too.

Sam 2 returned from the bathroom in Sam's clothes, tugging and squirming like those were the uncomfortable outfits. "Is this…acceptable?" he asked half-heartedly.

This time it was Sam whose smile was stiff and frayed. "It'll work. Besides the hair."

Sam 2 reached up to touch his bun, mouth pursed. "The hair stays."

Sam sighed, raised his hand just to drop it again in resignation.

Yeah, no losses or crises or baggage notwithstanding, he didn't really envy this other Sam and Dean at all. And not just because of the hair and the fussy attitude.

He gave his twin—or, rather, not so much—another fake smile. "Let's go find your brother then."

00000

They did not end up going to Brazil.

"Beaches and babes" tempted Dean, but Sam didn't like heat, and Dean was concerned about the financial situation in South America, and that just seemed the wrong choice for them right now.

They did spend some time in California, checking on a few of their old haunts from their world that still existed in some form in this one. But it didn't take long to learn about their twins' history with the law, and so it seemed…prudent to relocate outside the United States. The Winchesters no longer had the weight and resources of HunterCorp to back them, but they were able to find an adequate forger to make them passports, and Dean reluctantly sold his watch to pay for them and a pair of tickets to France.

A tour of Europe followed. Even with all the differences of this world—since when had the wall fallen between East and West Berlin?—they found enough of their old connections, and knew where enough bodies were buried, that they were able to live comfortably, if not quite up to their old standards.

Then a most impressive organization named the British Men of Letters tracked them down and introduced themselves. A few of the members seemed to pucker when they said the Winchesters' names, but they were still quite welcoming.

Dad had yet to turn up, but Sam and Dean didn't really miss him. Hopefully, he'd just come out somewhere else in this world and was safe, but they didn't dwell on it. The BMOL found them a lovely estate in the British countryside and shared extraordinary technology and information networks with them. It was actually not that different from their former lives.

Although, Dean did develop a fondness for beer. And wore flannel on occasion when no one else was around to see.

Sam just rolled his eyes, sniffed, and checked his hair.

00000

"Hey, did you move the Mercedes?" Sam threw his brother a questioning look as he passed him to get to the coffee.

Dean looked up from the laptop he had open on the kitchen table, searching fruitlessly for more info on the Occultum. "What? No. It's gone?" He'd given Lady Bevell's car to Eileen, but Eileen had decided to borrow Dorothy Baum's old motorcycle instead when she'd left. After her trauma at Chuck's hands, she'd wanted minimal baggage, and Dean had understood that. The Mercedes would be there when she wanted it. Or at least, it had been.

"No, it's just parked at the other end of the garage. Eileen isn't—?"

Dean quickly raised his hands. "Not that I know of. You sure?"

Sam shrugged. "The key's on the hook. The car's fine, it's just not where I usually see it."

Dean frowned, pondering that a moment. Wait a minute…

"We saw it. The car."

"We drove in it."

But they'd never actually said which car. Dean had thought it was a given.

He started to laugh. He should probably be insulted, but whatever, their twins were idiots, and he was glad they hadn't touched his baby.

Sam looked at him quizzically. "What?"

Dean shook his head, still grinning. "Dude, those two morons had even less taste than we thought…"

The End