This Was Getting Really Confusing.

Can you hear the sound of laughter
From the other side of life?
There are days when I feel like a stranger sometimes
Tell me, are there any other fools like me?

I surrender all.

I Surrender All – Newsboys


I watched Shar run into the room, and closing the door behind her. Damn, why didn't Dean ask me to help him instead? He probably needed her to use her powers against the clone to make sure whatever they were going to do to him was quiet. Well, I'm not much of a magical practitioner but it would have been better for me not to be left to talk to Sharika's first love. It's just too awkward. What am I supposed to say to him?

"So, Sam," David said, suddenly paying attention to me after ignoring me to display his chest to Lauren a few moments ago. I didn't like that he thought he was all that, he wasn't, I was still far more built then he was. "Sharika told me that you met her a year ago."

"Yeah, we did." I didn't feel like extending or elaborating.

Sharika told me about lying to David about our past, as much as I didn't like to lie, I had to agree. She couldn't just tell him that she met me six days ago, and had premonition and then got engaged within three days of knowing me. I, of all people, knew the lies our kind had to tell. I thought back to all the fibs I told my friends, even to the closest ones I had. The only one who knew the truth about me was Rebecca, and only because we had to save her from a shape-shifter a while back.

She told me the story of how we supposedly first met. I came over to Berkley to talk to a professor about a paper of mine, and met Sharika in the hallway. We both needed to see the same professor. The line of people to meet him was long so we talked for awhile before I was called in. I asked her out when I got out of the meeting, and we met for dinner later on at a restaurant. I transferred temporarily to Berkley while a world renowned professor was teaching there. I proposed to her two months ago and now am supporting her emotionally after the kidnapping of her two friends by going on this road trip with her.

"Amen to that," Lauren broke the tense silence hanging over the room. "Sam is such a great fiancé to Sharika, supporting her and loving her. God bless Sam. I just know, deep, deep in my heart that when he is taken up to heaven, he will be crowned a saint. A saint I tell you." She said all this with a completely serious face, with tears appearing in her eyes, and she looked at me, then at David, biting her lip, and breathing as though she was trying to steady herself.

I looked peculiarly at Lauren, not expecting an answer like that. She was probably feeling the need to have David approve of me, just like Sharika was, so she was building me up. Or…she was just being Lauren. Most likely the latter.

This just reminded me, what would I tell my friends when I went back to school? I can tell them that I met her on my road trip with my brother, and then the four of us traveled together. And after a few months I proposed to her. I wonder what they'd think of her. I'm sure that they'll like her, but I could never be a hundred percent on that.

"I try to be," I said to break the silence as David looked at me almost as if he were studying me.

"I hope that I get to know you better Sam," he said, the joviality and goofiness gone from his face. "I want to get to know the guy who Sharika deems good enough to be with her."

I didn't know whether or not to hit him. Sharika and I are perfect for each other! Who the hell is he to say otherwise?!? A guy she was close to six years ago?! What makes him think that I would care what he thought?!? What makes him so sure what he has to say about me would be considered by Sharika?! If he tells her he doesn't like me she'll just drop me?!? Fat chance, we both saw what was going to happen in the future, despite whatever the hell he, or anyone else, has got to say about me. I love her, and she loves me, and that's all we need.

"And I hope to get to know the guy –" I stopped myself from finishing the sentence. I wanted to end with 'the guy who supposedly cared for her so much that he ran away and left Sharika heartbroken and mourning', but I knew the consequences of that action. Sharika would blow up at me later on, not literally, and then we'd end up in a fight. That's the last thing we needed now. I should at least make an effort to be nice to him, for Sharika's sake, I resolved. I don't want to cause her any distress. "– who was her best friend throughout her year in England."

"Yeah!" Lauren agreed. "She's told us practically nothing about England; I need some dirt on her so I can blackmail her, gimme some dirt David." She walked over to the couch and patted the space next to her.

"She worked at a strip club," David told Lauren, as he sat down next to her.

She already told me about that, I doubt that there's anything I didn't know about Sharika.

I slowly ambled over to the recliner, curiously staring at David, sizing him up for all he was worth.

"Really? How, when, why?" Lauren said very fast, a shocked look on her face. I didn't know if she was faking it or not, but it looked believable.

"Why did you fake your death?" I asked him, voicing the question that's been in my head since I first saw him.

"Yeah David," Lauren chorused. "And of all things, an exploding microwave! That has got to be the stupidest way a person could die, like, ever."

"My uncle died that way," David said, with a grave expression.

"Oh…umm…so why'd you do it David?" Lauren asked, blushing like crazy. She looked positively horrified, though she was trying to hide it behind her usual confident exterior.

"And it was the FBI's idea, not mine," David grinned to show he took no offence. "I wanted to die in a car crash while I was in a drag race with Sharika, Alfred and Tamara. I had it all planned out, after I win I go to press on the brakes, only to find out that someone cut them cause they were jealous of my skills, then the car drives off the edge of a cliff and into the ocean, forever lost in the deep, mysterious, and insert a whole bunch of poetic adjectives here, sea. But the FBI was too cheap to give me a cool death like that. And to answer the original question, there was this man, named Jeremy Stool, he threatened to kill me, so the FBI faked my death and gave me a whole new identity, a whole new life, for my safety. They kept me in a safe house a few months after I 'died'. I couldn't tell anyone that I was alive; no one was allowed to know, except for my parents and my older sister. But Stool was captured recently so I could come out into the open."

"OHhhh…interesting, very, very interesting David." Lauren said, her head resting on her hands. She nodded slowly, eyes narrowed as she considered him. Suddenly I wanted to know what she was thinking – Lauren, because of her 'talents' could very easily learn things about people. And I wanted to know everything about David. Especially what relationship he intends to pick up with Sharika, whether it be a platonic one, or a romantic one, and even, considering the reactions she's elicited in several men over the past few days, a strictly sexual one.

Lauren glanced at me and smiled.

"Why'd you come here, of all places?" I asked David, avoiding Lauren's eyes. It was obvious she knew how I was feeling. I couldn't see why he'd want to come here, there were no job aspects and it was quite a small and fairly simple town.

"Because Sharika's here," he answered simply, an honest look in his eye.

What the hell am I supposed to say to that? How am I supposed to respond? I mean, he obviously did share a close bond with Sharika at one time, and clung onto that, but Sharika has moved on. He should too.

It's not that I don't want them to be friends, or that I can't stand Shar having male friends, it's just that he was in love with her. Well, that's what I'd deduce from what Sharika's told me about the way he acted around her. Guys can just tell when other guys are into a girl. And David was head over heels for her then. He clung onto the belief that he and Sharika were still close, that they still felt the same way about one another. I just didn't want him thinking that he could pick up where he and Shar left off.

I fell back on something I used to get out of anything I couldn't deal with – I smiled, and ducked my head, as I did whenever Dean made one of his smart ass comments.




"Right…" Sam said, and even though he looked completely at ease, I could tell that he was weirded out.

I was too.

Though for a different reason.

I mean, just this morning it had seemed like my powers were getting stronger, and that I was getting a minimal amount of control over them – I mean, I'd been able to connect with Sam, and hadn't fallen over and gotten all not speak-y – but now…? With David, no matter how much I concentrated, it seemed like my powers were completely blocked off. I wasn't getting anything off him at all – not even that crawly spidery feeling. I suppose that it was as I'd thought at the beach – it was just the cold going through my shirt, and had nothing to do with David.

But this total vacuum – it was strange, like David had no emotions.

"Okay, done!" Sharika said, walking out of the room that they'd taken CD to. She had a very weird expression on her face, like she just saw a pigeon kicking a rhinoceros over. Which, by the way, would be…very strange. To say the least.

Suddenly I got this spark of emotion from David – like…happiness and remorse…? Like his favorite uncle had died, but left him a billion dollars! Okay…not quite.

This disproves my theory on my powers whacking out, doesn't it? I mean, I can even feel Sammy's emotions from where he is on the opposite couch, stewing over everything David hadn't said. It's just David himself.

Then again…maybe I'm just not close enough to David yet? Do my powers need time to get used to people? I mean, sure, I get feelings off random people, but they're really strong ones, aren't they? I'm really confused…

"Well, anyways, David's going to be away for the next couple of days, so we're going out. Okay, bye."

"Wait, do you guys want to come?" David asked us, all polite and civil and suck-y up-y. How cute, like he wants to make a good impression on us. But I don't want to spoil their vibe. And Sharika is definitely shooting me death stares, like, don't say yes, or you will wake up dead in the morning. Not that she'd say that. And not that you can wake up when you're dead because – well, because you're dead.

"Noooo…" I said, drawing the word out with a bored intonation. Wait… "Unless we can take CD out! Can we take him Sharika, can we???"

"Noooo…" Sharika imitated me. Whore.

"Why not??? He needs to go out! He needs to breathe the free air! He needs to go outside, and feel alive!" I bounced up onto the balls of my feet, and gave her an imploring look, clasping my hands together in front of me and trying to balance myself on the couch. "How could you treat him this way? Like a caged animal! It's inhumane I tell you! Inhumane!"

"Who the hell is CD?" David asked.

"Her made up friend," Sharika said, as though implying that I had an imaginary friend. Oh, come on Shar. At least make up something that's halfway believable. No one would believe that I –

"Oh, okay," David said, and shrugged. And….that's it? That's all he's going to say?

Okay…How could he accept that so easily…?


I'm NOT.

Am I?

"Well, since that's all cleared up, we're going to go. Bye Sam, Lauren. Oh, and Dean." (Dean had just appeared in the doorway of where they'd taken CD. Okay…I have to come up with a reason to be allowed to go in there when Sharika leaves…yeah, I've got nothing.)

"Bye Shar, bye Gorgeous," I said, and waved at the two of them. I glanced back to where Dean was standing, still outside the door, arms crossed. Damnit.

"See ya," David said and waved, closing the door behind them.

Oh. Oh, right. I just realised. I am alone with three males. Sam and two Deans.

This is going to be awkward. Isn't it? I mean, I've been alone with Dean, but we could handle that, because, well, because. It's us. But I hadn't been alone with Sam and Dean yet, because Shar had always been there. I can't believe she abandoned me like this…

"So," I said, affecting the chipper attitude I always did when feeling awkward, or out of place. "What's new with you two?" I grinned, and reclined back down, coming off of my ankles which had started to hurt from my squatting position. "Done anything fun lately?"

This reminded me of my first memory of Sharika and I. It had been in year eight sometime…and I was feeling awkward. Let's just say, I wasn't surprised that we became friends a year later, rather than at that time…

They both just looked at me, Dean coming to sit down next to me on the couch. I stiffened for a second, wondering if it was the real Dean, or not, but the drugging effect of the magical pheromones didn't occur, so it must be the one who's going to start being a dick to me at any moment. Sam, though he was trying to affect interest in the people who were still in the room, obviously wasn't. Interested, I mean. He was being all jealous, etcetera, over Sharika and David.

Mostly David.

"So, you made me? Out of dough?" Dean asked me, a grin starting to spread over his face. Yeah, that would amuse you, wouldn't it? Ugh.

There are two ways to deal with this – the one that was already struggling to claw its way out of my throat, that is, denial, screaming and 'no way in hell do I like, or am attracted to you dean's. The other is to do something unexpected and take advantage of it.

"Yes," I said simply, choking my impulse to deny everything. I know I don't like Dean that way, nor am I in any way attracted to the idiot, but they continue to not be able to understand this fact, and I continually need to try and educate them on it. In any case, they both weren't expecting me to accept and agree to Dean's comment – so it took a second for my answer to sink in – a second in which I'd leapt over the couch and had opened the door to the bedroom where CD was tied up.


I slammed the door shut and locked it. It would deter them for practically no time – Dean, I knew, could pick locks, and so, presumably could Sam. And they'd only try that if the quick approach of kicking down the door didn't work.

The Dean I'd made was tied up on the bed, and even from over here I could feel the pheromones taking over my brain. I wondered briefly if they'd still been affecting me while I was out in the lounge, and if that was what had made me execute this stupid 'rescue' plan. Then all thoughts were gone when I noticed the sunset's play of fire on his golden skin, and the rough ropes digging into it.

I scurried forwards, Sam and Dean knocking on the door behind me, and calling out for me to stop being an idiot. I hadn't realised they'd try to rationalize first. It just gave me extra time, until they realised I was incapable of being rational right now.

Grabbing my pocket knife out of the back of my jeans, I swiftly cut the ones at his ankles, and his eyes smiled at me from over his gag. I reciprocated, climbing on top of him, as I had the real Dean – when doing the opposite of untying him – and cut the ones that bound his wrists too.

"Let's get out of here," I whispered, hearing Dean warn Sam he was going to kick the door in. I grabbed his hand, some of Dean's clothes off the floor, and we jumped out of the window. "Quick!" I said, and we ran around the back of the building. They'd be after us in no time – we need somewhere to hide – somewhere to hide – oh man – oh man –

"Calm down," Dean said, and brushed a hand over my cheek. I closed my eyes, my heart fluttering in my throat. Was it only the pheromones in him that made me feel this way? Or was it –

"Where should we hide?" I muttered, feeling time close in on me, and I grabbed his hand again, just running. We needed to get him dressed, right now. Two people running away from something was suspicious enough as is, but with one of them – a very hot one of them tainted with magical pheromones – streaking? Bad, bad, bad.

I'd made sure that we ran on the concrete path that looped around the back of the motel, so that they couldn't track our footsteps, and they couldn't be sure when we'd stopped or gone on towards the town. Spotting a gap under the motel building – the motel was held up on brick foundations, the gaps between them covered with barbed wire – I shoved Dean under it, and scrambled in myself, hearing the other Dean's and Sam's loud footsteps closing in behind us.

"Further in!" I hissed, shoving at his thighs and we crawled further under the building, the dirt and rough grasses tough on my bare knees and elbows, as we had to crawl on our stomachs to go as fast as possible. It was tall enough that I'd be able to crouch, if I ducked my head – but we needed speed

When we were about eight meters from where we'd entered the hole, I grabbed his ankle to stop him, looking over my shoulder to see the other Dean's and Sam's boots pausing just outside the barbed wire hole.

If they bent down now, they'd see us – we were in full view, unless we tried to shuffle behind one of the brick pillars. But then they'd hear us. The only thing we could do right now is hope.

"Where could that bloody woman have gotten to?" I heard Real Dean's exasperated growl from where I was, and suddenly CD's face was by my shoulder, watching their boots with me. I held a finger to my mouth, and he nodded, rolling his eyes. I smiled, as tense as the situation was, and leant my head on his shoulder. As uncomfortable as I was right now, he had to be a million times worse off – naked and lying on his stomach as he was.

The pheromones had taken hold again, their grasp having weakened a little while I was preoccupied with getting us hidden – I should still be scared of them finding us, as close as they were, but already my mind was going hazy, and all I could really think about was how smooth his skin was, and what it might taste like after he'd been running and crawling under buildings.

"I don't know Dean! Do you think they might have gone into town, like the clone was?"

"Well, its Lauren, you can't think that she'd be practical enough to think about the fact that he was naked, especially under the grip of those pheromones Sharika was going on about. You should have seen your fiancé while we were trying to tie him up. She had to keep pinching herself to stop from undoing the knots."

"Then again – that may be what she's counting on. Us thinking just that."


"Okay, let's keep going then – we should be able to follow the trail of drooling women."

"Damn straight."

The boots turned, and ran towards the town.

Nice. Really nice. They think that I wouldn't be practical enough to realise that a naked Dean would attract too much attention? I mean, what the hell? They must have a seriously low opinion of me – mostly Dean, but Sam too, if he's going to give in that easily.

I felt an angry pout appearing on my mouth, and my eyebrows drawing down. Is that really what they think of me? I hadn't been able to get a grasp of their emotions; it had all happened too quickly. But – for them to see me in that light. It hurt.

Sharika would have known better – wouldn't she? My mind ricocheted back to last night, when she'd been making fun of my flighty nature. Maybe she wouldn't have, at that.

"Hey…" clone Dean whispered to me, his breath stirring the hair on my temples, as my head still lay against his shoulder. "Don't worry about them."

I burrowed my head into the groove where his neck and shoulder met and sighed. "Yeah…we'd better get you dressed huh?"

"Probably. Though I know I'd usually rather go without, right now clothes might be a good idea."

"When were you ever afraid of getting dirty?" I asked, and giggled. I sat up, bending my head to look down at him, and so that it wouldn't hit the roof above me. He wasn't going to be able to put his clothes on without help – we weren't going to be moving from this place until he was dressed, or until I see a spider – the space was to cramped for him to be able to move appropriately. "Here, give me the clothes."

He passed them up to me, and I sorted them out. I'd grabbed a pair of jeans, one sock, Dean's t-shirt that I'd accidentally on purpose spilt soda on the other night, and a skivvy. No underwear or boxers – but then again, guys went without when they were wearing jeans sometimes anyway (in Australia it's called free-balling). Especially if they thought they were going to get laid.

And the way Dean was looking up at me right now, his hazel green eyes glinting in the half light coming in through the wire, his mouth curved up slightly on one side, his dark hair with sprigs of grass clinging to it, and his naked body sprawled out alongside mine, I wouldn't put it past myself to be unzipping those jeans two seconds after I'd done them up.

I swallowed, my mouth dry from the combination of running, fear of discovery, and desire – plus those all important pheromones. "Come on," I muttered hoarsely. "Jeans first."

I maneuvered around until I was between his feet, and trying not to stare too hard at his – um, you know – as he flipped onto his back, I gripped the waistband of the jeans and pulled them up over his feet, concentrating on the task at hand as much as I could.

I pulled them up over his ankles, his calves, his knees, and half way up his thighs before I glanced into his eyes again. He was openly grinning now, obviously amused at my discomfort. "What?!" I asked crankily, my voice still hushed, in case Dean and Sam decided I wasn't so stupid after all, and came back this way. Plus the floors above our head weren't that thick, so if there were anyone in the room above us, they'd be able to hear us pretty easily.

"This is just a new experience for me, that's all." He crossed his arms over his chest and grinned at the floorboards above us. "Getting dressed by a woman, instead of getting undressed."

I harrumphed. "Everything is a new experience for you. You're barely two hours old." I pulled at the jeans, but they weren't going anywhere without a little assistance. "Wanna lift your hips for me?" I asked, still irritable. He found my efforts not to latch onto him amusing? Let's see how amusing he finds it when I fasten his jeans up too fast and catch that attribute of his in the zipper!

Not that I would. It was my appendage, and I don't like bad things to happen to my stuff. Besides, he wouldn't be doing many extra-curricular activities with it and me, if it was bleeding, would he?

He lifted his hips off the dirty ground, and I pulled the jeans up to his hips, then settled them on his waist. "New experience for you too?" he asked, as I tried not to stare, wondering if I should also do the zipper up anyway – I mean, I'd done the rest – but he can do it himself…

"Yes, it is, actually. I have never dressed anyone but myself, and my little brother until he was three. And he was not pointing certain pieces of his anatomy in my direction!" I hissed, and moved to grab the skivvy.

Why am I acting like this? It's not like I haven't seen penises before. It's not like I haven't touched penises before. It's not like I haven't done many, many things with penises. Why did I feel so embarrassed and fumbling and ridiculous? Why did the sight of this particular penis make me want to run away screaming, as well as…well, I'm sure everyone knows.

Dean laughed quietly, and I heard his zipper fastening. Now it will be safe to turn around – I thought to myself, grumbling. The skivvy held in my hands, I turned back around on my hands and knees. He was still lying there on his back, his jeans on now, but his dirt smudged chest and arms still bare.

Damn the bastard. Why did he have to look like this? Why did my spell have to work? Why do I want to give up on putting the clothes on him, and put myself on him instead?

He was looking straight into my eyes, and the pheromones were teasing at my control when he said it, a grin tugging his beautiful lips. "Know what'd look good on me? You."

Amazing how in tune our thoughts were. Probably because he's made to know exactly what I want, even before I want it.

I dropped the shirt somewhere in the dirt, and he grabbed my hand. Suddenly I was lying flush on top of him, straddling his thighs, his hands in my hair and my mouth dueling with his for domination.

Things between Dean and I always happened like this – sudden and aggressive and needy – no – it's not Dean – except for this afternoon – that kiss – slow – soft – beautiful –

God damn pheromones…I though to myself. God damn Dean…god damn…don't ever stop…

My hands were in his hair now, his gripping my butt and pulling me even closer against him. I moaned, the sound captured by his throat. Damn…I could kiss him forever. Forever and ever and never get bored. I could fall in love with kisses like these. I could fall in love with a person who gave kisses like these. Oh god…He kisses just like the real –

"Today is gonna be the day that they're gonna throw it back to you, by now you shoulda somehow realised what you gotta do. I don't believe that anybody feels the way I do, about you now…"

My phone started vibrating in the pocket of my shorts, and I grunted. Answer, don't answer –

Clone Dean rolled on top of me, pressing me into the dirt, his chest grazing my breasts as he moved up to kiss my mouth again.

Don't answer for sure.

"…Back beat the word is on the street that the fire in your heart is out. I'm sure you've heard it all before, but you've never really had a doubt. I don't believe that anybody feels the way I do, about you now…"

My phone continued to emit the song, and dug into my hip as Dean's weight pressed me into the ground. It wasn't a suffocating weight at all – it was nice – it was comfortable – it was a complete and utter turn on.

"And all the roads we have to walk are winding, and all the lights that lead us there are blinding, there are many things that I would like to say to you, but I don't know how…Because maybe…you're gonna be the one that saves me…and after all…you're my Wonderwall…"

"Found you!" Dean's voice crowed, and I jerked my head to the side, and looked behind me to see Dean's angry and Sam's relieved faces looking at us through the barbed wire hole.

I moaned – a combination of submission and frustrated desire as the other Dean rolled off of me. He knew that I really didn't want to continue this in front of the others. At all.



I remember thinking that – and then, the feeling like panic as Sam and I had tried to knock down the door, the rush to catch up to them – damn she could run fast, even with a naked me holding her back – thinking that they'd gone on to town, but the feeling I'd had like, no, she really wouldn't be that stupid. I'd had a flash of inspiration, and had called her phone, walking back with Sam the way we'd come. And there they were – me on top of her, pressing her into the ground, half naked. At least she'd managed to get some pants on me.

She'd just looked back at me, her eyes almost completely gold, just as they always turned, I'd realised, when she was turned on, and then I'd gotten off of her, and they'd come crawling out. I'd just stood there, waiting until she'd climbed out after my replica, then pulled her up by her wrist. I hadn't let go until we were back in the motel lounge room.

And now, here we were, back in the room Lauren and I shared, all of us sitting on the couches and in the chairs, in awkward silence.

It's been like this for an hour and a half now.

Sammy of course, was brooding about Sharika and David – which Lauren didn't make better with her comments about them possibly having wild, breathless sex in the restaurant bathroom stalls – and could probably do so for another hour and a half. I've been cleaning – make that trying to clean – my guns and knives, but I kept getting distracted by the other me, and Lauren who were giggling next to me on the couch, and kept on mentioning wild, breathless sex – not for Sam, but for themselves.

"Stop that!" I heard Lauren whisper, not very softly, and she laughed again, this throaty sound in the back of her throat that made me even harder than I already was. God damn it. Maybe if I sit between them, they'll STOP.

Good idea Dean, no really. They'd probably just end up doing it AROUND you.

I glanced over at them again – my clone had his hands on her waist, and was kissing her neck – Lauren's head was back to give him easier access, and her eyes were closed, her hands gripping his hair. She was almost in his lap.

ANYTHING had to be better than this.

"Okay you two, move aside, I need some help cleaning this," my mind supplied, as I stood up, and positioned myself like I was about to sit between them. Lauren's eyes opened and she looked up at me, eyes still molten gold. She blinked, then looked down at the other me, who had let go and moved aside, to give me room.

Wait, why…?

I gave a mental shrug and sat down. Lauren looked like a person waking up from a deep sleep, as she stared at the sawn-off shotgun I held in my hands. I'd unloaded all the rock salt, so it wouldn't go off, and could clean it safely. Of course, I'd already finished doing it – but I could do it again, if it meant they'd stop palming each other for half a fucking hour.

"Uhnn…" Lauren groaned, then rubbed her eyes with her fists. "I'm hungry. You guys hungry? Good. I'm going to go make – food. Food is good." She stood up, and darted towards the kitchen.

My clone didn't follow her, he just sat there, studying the guns I hadn't cleaned yet with a practiced eye – the look I always had on my face when looking over my weaponry. I felt the familiar weird tingle go up my spine that I did every time I looked at him. Everything he did was an exact reflection of me – I could see me doing every single thing he did, and it was starting to weird me out. Starting? Starting!? It had freaked me out as soon as I'd seen it touching Lauren in the kitchen, as did her complete and utter trust in him since.

She just didn't realise that if Sam and I left him alone with her for more than ten minutes, he'd be continuing – and finishing – everything he'd been trying to do since she made him. In other words – fuck her brains out.

How could she – how could she not see that?

I stood up, and stalked towards the kitchen. I had to make her see sense. It was – it was ridiculous, how she just blindly went wherever he did, and those damn pheromones could not be the whole cause. It was Lauren herself.

It's not that I would ever hurt her – it's just that I knew she would regret it afterwards. Not having sex with me of course, she'd be wanting it again for the rest of her life…just losing it to a made up creation, that wouldn't even be around the morning after. She was that kind of woman – impulsive, but likely to be broken up about what had happened afterwards, because she hadn't thought it through properly.

She reminded me of myself, at times.

She was humming to herself – Back In Black, by ACDC? – as she cut up vegetables for the saucepan next to her. "Back in black, I hit the sack…" she muttered to herself, as her hand dropped some zucchini into the sizzling pan, not looking up from what she was doing. "I've been too long I'm glad to be back, yes, I'm let loose, from the noose, that's kept me hanging about…" I just watched her as she stood there, her knife cutting the vegetables into chunks, mumbling that song and putting the cut vegetables into the pan. My anger drooped as I looked at her, oblivious to my presence for once. It was peaceful, almost, not having to insult her for once, or feel like throttling her. She just stood there, cutting, and dropping, and singing. "I've been looking at the sky, 'cause it's gettin' me high; forget the hearse 'cause I never die. I got nine lives, cat's eyes, abusin' every one of them and running wild…"

Suddenly she turned around. "Oh, hey…come to help me with my vegetables?" she smiled slyly at me, holding up a carrot before nibbling slightly on the end, not breaking eye contact with me the whole time. She – "Oh wait," she said, dropping her hand to the side and turning back around. "It's just you."

"Look, stay away from him." Considering her reaction to me entering just now, I couldn't very well trust her to be around him. I could barely trust myself. Just seeing her in the kitchen when we'd first discovered the two of them, 'my' hands all over her, as she made those erotic noises in the back of her throat – I was half way not kidding when I'd mentioned making porn out of it. It was the hottest thing I'd ever seen.If I felt that way, imagine what a me, whose feelings were reciprocated, would do.

"Why not?"

"Don't go near him until he dies okay? Just listen to me for once."

"Why?" she asked, savagely chopping up the carrot. "Why should I? It's not like he's dangerous or anything." She threw the pieces of carrot into the pot.

"He is dangerous."

"No, he isn't."

"He'll take advantage of you!"

"No, he wouldn't!"

"Look, I would, and so would he – because he's me, Lauren, okay?"

"No, you wouldn't!"

I laughed slightly, tilting my head to the side. I wouldn't? Okay, fine, you damn, annoying, stubborn bitch – I'll prove it to you!

And then, the second time that day, I grabbed her, pulled her to me, and kissed her. This time, it wasn't gentle, tender or slow – even at first. I was going to teach her a lesson.



As I sat in the recliner, almost unmoving, I couldn't help but think what that David guy could be doing with Sharika. I know that there isn't a snowball's chance in hell that anything would actually happen between them, and if it did, for example David launching himself onto Shar, there is no way that she would reciprocate.

All I need is what's inside me, my gut instinct which I've followed since Jess's death, and which has always lead me to the correct conclusion, to know that Sharika and I are meant to be. We're soul mates; we're going to spend the rest of our lives together happily. And David can't do a thing to stop that.

But there is still that nagging voice in my head warning me that David is bad news. But that could be because I was a little jealous. I know that I know practically everything about her, and her time in England, but David was the one who was there with her. He was the one getting into the same predicaments with her; he was the one who helped her out of them.

He was her first love.

It's not just their history, it's the say he regards Sharika, almost like she belongs to him or something. 'I want to get to know the guy who Sharika deems good enough to be with her'. When he uttered that sentence my blood pressure rose steeply. Who does he think he is?!? Just because he used to be her love then does not give him the right to judge me. Sharika is with me now and he just has to deal with it.

Not only that, he's been hogging her to himself for the past few days. I wanted to spend time with Sharika, and I was entitled to that right more then he was. I was going to marry her.

"Sammy, stop over thinking things," the clone Dean told me, after the real Dean and Lauren left to do who knows what.

"What?" I asked him, slightly annoyed. Who was he to give me advice, he wasn't even real.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about," he replied coolly. He leant forwards and gave me a knowing look.

Whether Lauren will admit it or not, this was Dean exactly to a point. How could she still continue to deny her feelings? If she, and Dean, keep on going on like this it's going to get very annoying for those around them. Thank god that I got to miss out on the long wait, and got to go straight to the relationship I wanted.

"Look Dean, clone Dean, whatever, it's not any of your business," I answered curtly.

I get that my fiancé is attractive, and that it would ensue other men to look at her. But the entire bar, and then all the male customers, and majority of the male employee's at Alexandra's, and not to mention those who were staring awestruck at her at the party we went to (male and female). It's a little overwhelming. Jess was unbelievably beautiful as well, but I never seemed to have this problem with her. She didn't seem to attract nearly as much attention as Shar did.

"Well, I'll tell you this. You get frustrated, Shar notices, you two get into a fight, Lauren gets distracted when she tries to help, and I don't end up getting randomly kissed by her. Or anything else. So it's my problem too." He grinned his Dean grin at me.

"Should have known that's all you care about," I muttered under my breath.

No matter what he says, or jokes about, he was actually trying to help me for me. There's always been an underlying desire to help out his family within Dean. I know he'd do anything for me, for dad, and soon, hopefully, before she officially becomes a Winchester, for Sharika as well. I'd do anything for him as well.

"David is just her friend, you are her fiancé, there's a major difference in the way she'd feel about him in comparison with you. She loves you man, I don't know why but she does seem to have a certain amount of affection for you. So stop worrying about it. David won't steal her away, she won't let him. She loves you too much for it to happen, and cares about your guy's relationship over practically anything else. And you know that you two end up hooking up for life. So stop your whining and enjoy your time with her." The clone gave me an earnest look.

I didn't know what to make of that, he was right. I'll just let it go, and be happy with the present. Nothing is wrong, nothing wrong ever happening hasn't been indicated. I'm just worrying over nothing. But still…I get uneasy feelings when it concerns David.

It surprised me that my brother contained such wisdom at times. He's always been so serious and clammed up to let me see. But then again, his knowledge on different types of women did greatly overshadow mine.

"Sure, thanks man, I guess," I said, feeling strange at thanking a man made out of flour. How long did he have left anyway? About ten minute or so?

"No problems man, now that that's over, I want to know something," Dean said, giving me a mischievous smile.

"What is it?" I asked feeling weary. After a serious moment Dean always covers it up, or tries to diffuse the atmosphere with a joke. To get rid of the 'chick flick moment' vibe.

"Ever think of getting freaky in bed with her powers?"



I was stunned.

I never thought Dean was the kind of guy to teach a girl a lesson, in such a way. He was notoriously protective and indifferent when it came to emotions and such. And yet, here he was, pashing me, just to prove that the clone I'd made of him would do the same.

All to protect me.

This was getting really confusing.

For him too. His emotions weren't all that coherent when he'd grabbed me, just seconds earlier. And as he kissed me, his big hands clenched on my waist, his mouth hard on mine, they did not become any clearer. In fact, they became even more tangled.

Kind of like my own at the moment.

See, despite the fact that I had a Dean in the other room that could literally take my breath away, and I didn't see this Dean in that light – he was still a goddamn wonderful kisser.

And I wanted to kiss him back.

Even though I knew that he didn't actually want to be doing it, he was just trying to protect me, just trying to teach me a lesson.

Fuck it all, I thought, and grabbed his hair, kissing him back as savagely, as wildly and angrily as he was kissing me. Stupid asshole.

Him, or you? another voice asked inside my head.

Both of us.

I mean, someone out there must be laughing at me. I am a complete and total idiot, I know exactly what Dean is doing, and for what reasons…but I still want him.




I opened the door to Lauren and Dean's apartment, not knowing what to expect. Considering two of the factors involved. Lauren, and the pheromones that were getting Lauren to act upon her every whim.

They even had me under its spell, that is, until I pinched myself so my brain would distract itself by focusing on the pain rather then the clone and his unnecessarily massive, and dangerous, level of pheromones. It could reach any woman that was at a two meter radius! Once again, what was Lauren thinking??

I turned to close the door as I glanced back to see David drive off in his Mercedes.

Good luck to him…

He wasn't going to be here for the next few days. The record company he worked for called him in the middle of dinner for an emergency. I asked him worriedly what it was, thinking that he lost his job or something. But he assured me that it wasn't anything major that would have severe repercussions, other then the state of his emotional condition when he returns. He explained that he was going to fly out to L.A. and work with an artist, wouldn't tell me who no matter how much I tried to persuade him otherwise, because the s/he wanted a say in their song lyrics. 'It'll be an overbearing, bastard who understands nothing and expects everything from me. S/he just wants some sort of credibility when people ask him/her about the songs they sing. I'm going to be in hell for the next few days.' I responded dryly, playfully berating him on having such a dim view on the topic. Anyways, he told me that he'd call me when he came back.

I waved at him, even though I knew he wouldn't be able to see.

Now, time to see what damage has been done…

A dreading sensation entered my stomach as my mind rewound past the hour I spent with David and onto Lauren and her man friend.

Lauren better have kept herself under control!!

But I doubt it. I expect to hear about how Lauren tried to make some sort of daring escape with her creation and had to hide under the building to evade Sam and Dean. If she did that, since she would have been under the call of the high amounts of a certain chemical, she would have forgotten to turn her phone off. Actually, she would have forgotten anyways, she's just like that. I tell her one thing, two minutes, not even that, three seconds later she forgets. But back to my point, Dean and Sam would have tried calling her, not expecting for their simple plan to actually work, and then followed the vocals of Oasis to her hidden location.

That or she actually beat Sam and Dean unconscious to spent time with her perfect mate. And I wouldn't be surprised to see the two knocked out bodies on the floor and the window open. Lauren always likes to take the back door, it's less conspicuous that way. She wouldn't want to be attracting any attention, and would want to keep her woman made man to herself. But then again, she wouldn't be thinking clearly, as said pheromones would be working their magic on her.

Oh god, I hope she isn't in a mortal, fight to the death, combat out there with some other unfortunate woman who also fell for the pheromones as well. I can see it now, Lauren and a tall red haired lady, at a crowded mall, circling each other, one with a knife in her hand and the other a sharp piece of glass she obtained when she broke the store window with her bare fist in her desperate search for a weapon. Both with seriously threatening expressions on their faces, and Dean near them, but far enough away to avoid any harm being done to himself, enjoying the concept of two women fighting over him, and a crowd of people circling around them.

I turned to face the room only to see Sam sitting in the recliner giving Dean an incredulous look.

"Hey guys," I greeted them.

They both raised their heads, and acknowledged my presence in their different ways. (Sam smiled and said hi, almost looking relieved. Dean just nodded.)

I surveyed the room, there was one, well two, things missing. Lauren and Cloean. (Clone + Dean Cloean. It's too annoying to keep saying Clone Dean.)

"Where's Lauren?" I asked Sam. Calm down, she might be in the toilet and Dean probably got her to somehow get rid of Cloean.

"And where is Clone Dean?"

"They're in the kitchen –" Sam started to say, but I ran off into the room he mentioned before he could finish his sentence.

Great, I leave for an hour or so, and Sam and Dean decided to get lax with the blonde one and the hazardously charming lump of dough that Lauren conceived for god knows what reason. Don't they know how perilous it is for her, Lauren, to be alone with him?! The pheromones speak for themselves but add to that equation the fact that Lauren was already harboring testosterone like urges and desires to commit against the real Dean…this is going to spell disaster for us all.

I skidded past the corner and barged into the kitchen, bracing myself to see what I have been fearing for the past few seconds.

"Lauren –"

Oh crap

They were standing in the middle of the kitchen, Lauren with her lips pressed up against Cloean in the middle of the room. She had her hands in his hair, his arms around her in a tight hold, hands on her back, bringing her as close as he could without breaking her spine.

I have to stop this, NOW!

Without hesitating I telekinetically jerked Cloean away from Lauren, breaking any physical contact they had, and placed him on the wall, taking Lauren out of the two meter danger zone he carried around with him.

"LAUREN! What are you doing?!? I told you to stay away from him!" I yelled.

How could she do this? It wasn't only me, Dean and Sam both agreed that she should keep her distance, for obvious reasons. I know she likes to do what she wants, and that's all fair and good, but this is a totally different situation. She could end up carrying Cloean's child! And who knows what it'd look like, how the hell would we explain a gingerbread baby to the doctors who delivered it!

"Uh...ahem," she shook her head as if to make herself think clearly. "Sharika, umm…do you feel the pheromones?"

I stopped mentally fuming and thought about what she said…Oh, forgot about that. Now that I took a moment to stop and take in my surroundings I noticed an obvious change in the atmosphere which Cloean keeps around him. That is I didn't feel the need to constantly dote on the man currently pinned up against the wall. Crap. That must be the real Dean. Talk about embarrassing. I apologized to Dean as I gently put him back on his feet.

"When I saw you two kissing, I thought it was the clone," I clarified.

"I gathered," Lauren said, looking at me strangely, and avoiding all eye contact with Dean.

"Are you two together now or what? You've kissed three times by now," I said. I was really curious, were they or weren't they? You can't kiss a guy three times and still be in complete denial about your feelings towards him.

"Ha! No! What?! Yeah…um…I'm going that way –" she pointed over my shoulder, and then dashed past me into the living room. I guess I was wrong. Perhaps most people can't be in denial about their feelings after kissing a guy three times, but this is the McMartin. I should have known better.

"How long to go?" Sam asked, entering the kitchen and glancing at Dean, who was standing where I'd left him, completely at ease. His hands were in the pockets of his jacket, and he was smiling a little at me and Sam.

I looked down at my watch. "A minute," I said. One minute to twelve. One minute is still long enough to conceive a gingerbread baby! And considering that it's Lauren, it'll probably have spaghetti hair.

"I don't think she'll do anything," Dean said when he noticed the uneasy look on my face.

"What makes you sure about that?" Sam asked, doing his head shake thing.

"Let's just say, I taught her a thing or two." Dean crossed his arms over his chest, looking completely convinced.

Okay, what am I missing here? When I walked in on them two they were making out, not learning lessons. Unless she was taking an advance class in French kissing and decided that she needed to practice for the exam, I really doubt that being mauled could be counted as a lesson. I opened my mouth to vocalize my thoughts when I just closed it. It'd be better if I didn't say anything.

I glanced at my watch again, it was one past twelve. "He's gone. We should give Lauren time to mourn, and grieve."

"Why? It's not like she had any emotional attachment to it," Sam said.

"This is a woman who arranges funerals for her dead potted plants, an actual funeral, complete with catering and music and a mini sized coffin. I'm dead serious," I responded.

And I really was. Fine, so it only happened once, but once was more then enough. She had been working on one potted plant, to see how big it could grow for a science assignment. She continued to work on it, even after having completed her report, to achieve her goal. She was very proud of it. But one unfortunate day, her potted plant was acquainted with her cat. If you could call it that (it was this huge thing which actually terrorized the local neighbourhood dogs in its spare time). Not saying that her cat, Mango, is completely crazy, just that it was utterly insane. Which is worse. Anyways, Mango tore the thing to shreds, Lauren was devastated.

To help her through her 'emotional crisis', Fiona jokingly suggested that she throw a funeral for it, a suggestion which Lauren obviously took seriously.

She didn't hire real caterers, or actually buy a coffin or paid a priest to reside it, but it was a funeral non-the-less. I had to help dig the grave.

"I don't doubt that," Dean stated, not the least bit weirded out by this fact.

I looked up at Sam, "We should go."

"Yeah," he agreed.

I haven't slept in two days…the thought randomly entered my mind. That was true, two nights ago we were out till four am, then I got distracted, and I stayed in bed for about half an hour, waiting for Sam to fall asleep, then I got up to make the healing potion. Then last night, the fight, and then reconciling and waiting for Sam. Well, tonight I couldn't wait to curl up under the covers, well, after some much needed distractions of course.

I turned around and walked out of the kitchen to see how Lauren was taking Cloean's death.

She was standing next to the couch, staring sadly at the burnt lump of dough, with paper slips sticking out of it that was cradled in her hand. "Don't say anything, not a word," she said to us, struggling to make her voice as normal as possible. "I mean, it's not like – it's not like he was an actual person or anything. How pathetic would I be to miss a guy made out of this?" she smiled at us normally, holding the piece of burnt dough up carelessly, but I saw the way she swallowed, hard, as though she were trying not to cry.

I nodded, deciding to stay quiet just like she had requested.

You wouldn't be pathetic, I thought. You'd just be Lauren, and she cares about things like that. It's part of her quirky personality, one we all love.

I felt two large hands descend upon my shoulders and I looked up to see Sam standing behind me, doing what I was, i.e. peering sadly at Lauren.

She walked past us and entered her room, closing the door gently behind her.

"Let's go," Sam said softly.

I nodded again. "Bye Dean." I fare welled my future brother in law

"See ya," I heard him reply.

Sam enclosed one of my hands in his, ran his thumb over my fingers, and led me out the door.