"Simon?" Simon whipped out a silver knife and came after the man who looked and sounded like his brother. "You aren't my brother! How dare you take his body." Simon raged and dug the knife into his neck.

"Simon! Stop! It is him! It's him!"

"No. It isn't! My brother is dead! I know he's dead. I buried him. I…" He stopped and choked on his words. A hand from behind pulled his arm away from the neck of the person who claimed to be his brother.

"It is him. Trust me. It's him." Robert said gently from behind. "Take it away from his neck. I tried everything. I don't know how it's him but it is him." Simon, breathing heavily, pulled his massive body away from the other man and looked at him, looked him dead in the eye, those eyes were soft, compassionate and scared. They were his brother's eyes. His brother had made it back to him..

Dean sighed and hit save on the computer. If it had only been that easy when the other Sam brought back his Sam. But it hadn't been, his Sam had asked what happened and that was all. He didn't care any more than that. What he did say was that if he contacted that other "psychopathic homicidal maniac" that he would kill him, because he had most certainly learned how to in his time away. Sam walked away that day and he went back to his old life, he went back to Anastasia, and he went back to Topeka and his old law firm. He claimed that he had a momentary flash of insanity and that he was all right now, and they accepted it, because normal people, they wanted to accept something like that.

Dean pushed himself out of the chair, it was taking effort again ever since his week long stay in the hospital after his encounter with that demon thing. She had cut him up pretty good and she made sure to cut up the muscles in his legs as well as the skin on his arms and chest. She was one nasty bitch and he was going to suffer the ramifications of that for life. His physical therapist said that he would walk with a limp probably for the rest of his life. It was just one more scar to add to the ever mounting list.

The icon informing him he had mail blinked into existence on his task bar and he debated for a moment whether or not to answer it. He smiled to himself, wondering if it was a response to the story. Ever since his encounter with the other Sam, he started posting his story online, just to test the theory that, perhaps, what he was writing about was more real than he thought. He had received a lot of positive feedback and he could never resist a blinking mail icon, because it usually meant that there was some kind of happy mail awaiting him.

He leaned against his computer desk and double clicked the icon and waited and then he clicked the mail open and read the simple text.

Where have you been getting your information?

Startled Dean eased himself back into the chair. Where did I get the information? What does it matter where it came from? It's just a story. He thought as he reread the e-mail. His eyes stung. What if this is was the fish that he had been trying to catch? Maybe the stuff he was writing about was closer to reality like the other Sam said. He hesitantly hit reply and wrote:

I play around online for the information. It's all just crap. Just like to make up stories, writing helped me through a really bad time in my life.


He reread his response and sighed, that would have to do. It would make anyone who just wanted to find the websites disinterested and entice someone who knew the reality. He hit send and starred hard at his computer for a moment almost worried that another demon chick would come barreling out of the computer.

Months ago he would have thought demons were nothing but the things in his life that he was addicted to, or the mistakes that he had made, now, now, demons meant girls with knives that knew how to use them. Life had most certainly been different since the other Sam came into his life, and a lot of it wasn't exactly tangible, a lot of things just felt different, and something about this e-mail frightened him.