--Okay guys, have fun with this one as I intended. Enjoy!! I would also like to dedicate this story to a personal friend of mine. Without her, this story wouldn't have happened.--

Sam Winchester and the Seven Dean's


The Evil Witch


Sam was having a really shitty day. It was the day after Pamela died; he was agitated, Dean was agitated, and apparently, so was Ruby. He went to talk to her about a demon she was looking for, and was mentally contemplating whether or not he was going to kill this thing with his powers or not. Apparently expressing this to Ruby made her angry. Big mistake if you ask me.

"Sam, I really don't care what the psychic broad said before she kicked the bucket we have serious work to do. I mean there still is that whole Lillith thing in the offing."

"I know Ruby, I just…I don't really know what I should do right now."

"You should help me find the little bitch before someone breaks another seal. Now focus please," Sam didn't respond. "Alright, what's you're problem, Sam?"

"It's just been really hectic lately." He murmured. She put her hand on her hip.

"The job's always hectic Sam," She said. "You knew that a long time ago. So what's the real problem?" He looked at the ground, turning away from her. "You're brother. It's Dean, isn't it?" He said nothing, but Ruby waited, trying to be patient.

"I've apologized a hundred times about what I said with the siren. And he still doesn't believe me." She merely nodded.

"So, that's why you're so bitchy? Because Dean's bothering you? Man up Sam!" She snapped.

"You don't have to live with him Ruby!"

"Look, I don't like Dean, at all. And he doesn't like me. But he does like you. I think you two just need to talk."

"Dean, talk?" He chuckled. "Yeah because he's so open and honest right?"

"Does Dean seriously bother you that much?" She asked. Sam half shrugged.

"Yeah, I guess he does." He said. She folded her arms and glared at him. Slowly, a smile crept across her face.

"He really bothers you?" She asked, still smirking.

"Yes," Sam repeated. "What's this about, Ruby?" He asked. She shook her head, the mischievous grin still in place.

"Nothing. Look, I want you to go and talk to Dean. I'm sure this will all blow over soon but until then, why don't you and Dean try and settle this like big boys."

"What are you gonna do?"

"Go get some French fries, drink a beer and go to bed."

"No, you're planning something. I can see it in your eyes, what are you gonna so?" Sam asked irritably. Her grin broadened.

"You'll see." She said. Sam's eyes didn't leave her all the way out of the door, and he was nervous all the way back to the Motel room.

About halfway there, he got a phone call.

"Hey, Dean, what's up?" He asked.

"Uh," Dean said anxiously. "Sammy, we got a problem." Sam was suddenly alert. He was a little afraid of what Dean would tell him. More seals broken? Angels telling them they had yet another life or death fight? God only knew these days.

"What's wrong?" He asked, almost frantically.

"Um," Dean said. "This'll be better if I tell you when you get here."

"Is it bad?" He asked. Dean laughed lightly.

"Well, it's not apocalyptic, but it's not necessarily good either."

"Alright, I'm almost there," Sam said. "Just hang on for another minute okay?"

"Hey, shut the hell up!" Dean said away from the receiver. "Sorry, yeah I'll see you in a minute Sam."

"Dean, are you sure everything's alright?"

"Huh, you can tell me that when you get here Sam." Sam hung up after that.

He was still insanely wary of what his brother had to tell him once he got there, and as the Impala got closer and closer to the Motel he got this sick feeling in his gut. Like the one you got when your parents didn't punish you right away, and you had to sit in your room and wait for it.

So, when he got out of the Impala and almost ran to the door, he didn't really realize that he was subconsciously trying to hurry up and get the news over with. Or punishment, what ever you'd like to call it. You're probably wondering why I keep interrupting don't you? Well, I've been around before. Most people only call me by a name or two. The proverbial Narrator, or Storyteller. Which ever you would prefer is fine by me. I am the one that makes stories happen. Words are my forte and my servants, and you are what makes me thrive. So I would like to thank you for reading for a start. Oh, silly me, I'm keeping you from all the excitement aren't I? Sorry.

Sam ripped the door open, searching the room for his brother. And he found him. Seven times.

"Dean?" Sam said shakily, unable to fully comprehend what was in front of his eyes.

"Hi Sam." Seven voices rang at once. Sam jumped, startled.

"Shut the hell up!" One yelled. He stepped forward. "This is what I needed to talk to you about, Sam." He said. Sam looked around at the other six pair of green eyes looking at him. They all seemed to have different expressions on their faces.

"Dean," Sam said quietly. "Why in the hell are there seven of you?" The real Dean sighed and looked at the others over his shoulder.

"If you could tell me that would be great." He said.

"What, we don't even get a hello, Sam?" One said. He was sitting at the crappy desk propped against the wall, his boots resting on top of it, a smirk on his face.

"Sh," Another snapped. "He's busy."

"God, you're such a puss." Said another. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, scowling in any direction his head turned, arms clamped around his chest, jaw flexing nonstop.

"Be nice to the Baby," The smirking one said. "It's not his fault he's a total wuss-bag."

"You both are childish." The alleged wuss retorted.

"All of you need to shut up and make sure nothing followed Sam here." Another said. He continually looked around the room frantically.

"Would you guys stop fighting?" Another whined. He looked majorly depressed and scared. Sam surveyed the room one more time, then scowled.

"Ruby." He spat.

"How is Ruby?" The last one asked. He was sitting close to the Smirking Dean. He also had a smirk on his face, but it wasn't the smartass one, it was the one he gave to busty blondes in a bar.

"None of your business." Sam blurted.

"Ruby did this?" Regular Dean asked, infuriated.

"She might have. We kind of had a fight and…"

"So, you're demon girlfriend gets mad at you and makes seven of me?" He bellowed.

"Please don't yell." The depressed one said, his voice cracking on the last word.

"Look, Dean, we'll figure this out, man. I'm sure if I talk to Ruby she'll take this back."

"Yeah, and Cookie Monster's goin' on a diet." Smirking Dean said. The other six chuckled.

"Right, well I'm gonna call her."

"Sam," The "Wuss" said. "I'm not sure if this is gonna work. And we don't wanna go accusing Ruby of something she didn't do. That wouldn't be nice." Sam stared incredulously at the man that looked like his brother. Real Dean grimaced.

"Dude!" He exclaimed. "I can not believe you are a part of me." Wuss bit his lip and looked at the ground.

"Play Nice kids." Smirk said. Sam took out his phone and walked outside.

"Hello?" Ruby's voice said after a few rings.

"Why? Of all the things you could do, why multiply my brother by seven?" He yelled. Ruby laughed.

"Because you wouldn't stop whining. I did this so you'd learn a lesson."

"Ha, ha very funny. Now take it back." He snapped. Ruby sighed.

"Sorry Sam, no refunds." She said.

"What do you mean 'no refunds'?" He asked sharply. She laughed again.

"I mean I can't undo the spell. It has to run its course." She said.

"How long is it gonna take?" Sam asked.

"Mm, 'bout a week." She said, sounding bored.

"A week?!" He yelled. "You're serious?"

"Ayup," She giggled. "Have fun Sam." Click.

"Son of a friggin' bitch." Sam spat through gritted teeth. He turned and stalked back into the room, still unable to get used to all seven of his brother.

"So, did she help?" Regular Dean asked. Sam sighed and shook his head.

"You guys are stuck like this for a week." He said.

"WHAT?" Seven voices rang. Sam winced.

"Look, Sammy," Wuss said. "The six of us, there's a reason we make up one person. We can't be people by ourselves. We're extremes. We don't have elements you need to do certain things. We are the elements. The ones that make up your brother."

"Alright Dr. Phil, shut the hell up." Smirk said. Wuss shook his head and sat down.

"So what the hell are we gonna do Sam?" Regular Dean asked. Sam sighed.

"We're gonna wait this out. Like we do everything else."

"I need a drink." Regular Dean said. Sam nodded.

"Me too." He said. Dean turned and looked at his other pieces.

"What about them?" He whispered.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Horny Dean said, standing. "There is no way you are gonna leave us here while you're going someplace there could be action. If you're goin', I'm goin' too."

"Oh, hell no," Dean said. "There is no way you're coming with us."

"Why not?" Angry shouted.

"One, there's not enough room in my car for eight people. Two, what the hell would we tell people, hm? That we're all twins or something?"

"It's actually septuplets." Wuss said.

"Hey it could happen," Stated Smirk. "Look at Octamom. She had eight. Why couldn't Mom do the same thing?"

"Shut up," Dean said. "Sam and I'll be back in a little while. Don't kill each other, don't go anywhere, and don't call anyone alright. Unless something goes wrong. Then call us." Four of them folded their arms and pouted. Wuss nodded obediently. Sam shook his head and opened the door. Dean followed him out, sighing when he got into the Impala and started the engine.

"This is messed up dude." He said. Sam nodded.

"Yeah, sorry." Dean shook his head.

"Hey, I'm used to it." He turned on the radio and peeled out of the parking lot before Sam could say anything else.

Harkin's Pub was about ten miles from the Blue Lagoon Motel. It wasn't a fancy place to go to, but it didn't smell like piss either. There were about twelve waitresses on staff at the time, and four working tonight. A Friday night at a crappy bar was not a good place to be a waitress, as you and I both know, and for Katherine Peltier, it was probably worse.

She was a very attractive young woman. Her hair was a dark brown and it flowed past her shoulders to her chest. Her curves were, for lack of a better term, phenomenal, and her blue-green eyes shone brightly when she spoke. Katherine, or Kat if you're her friend, always seemed to have a ton of energy. Always happy, always in a good mood, always ready to tell her friends a good joke when they weren't so good. She wasn't a hunter, like most women in these stories turn out to be, she was in fact a very normal young girl. Until Sam and Dean Winchester walked into her Uncle's bar.

She saw the boys walk in and sit down.

"Whoo," A voice behind her whistled. "I'd take a piece of that any day." Kat turned and smiled at her friend.

"Lauren, you'd take a piece of anything higher than a seven." She grinned. Lauren scoffed.

"Pshh," She said, rolling her eyes. "Yeah right. Six is the lowest I go." She smiled and walked away, leaving Kat laughing as she walked over to the two young men.

She smiled politely at the tall one with the adorable brown eyes and longer hair, and when her eyes traveled to the shorter one, she felt her heart gain speed.

"Hello," She said, making sure her pulse didn't show on her face or her voice. "My name's Kat and I'll be you're waitress for this evening," She said routinely. "What can I get you boys?" Green eyes stared up at her, a smile in them.

"I'll have a beer." He said. Biggun nodded.

"I'll have the same." She wrote down the order and looked back up at them, unable to keep her eyes off Green eyes for more than a few seconds.

"Do you guys know what you want already?" She asked. Green eyes smiled broadly at her. Her heat beat faster.

"Whatever you come with Kitty." He said. Kat tried not to melt on the spot. Kitty, he called her Kitty. Usually when someone called her that she gave them a few choice words of her own, but the way he said it, the tone of his deep, smooth voice sent goosebumps up her arms. She blushed and looked back at the pad of paper in her hands, as if it were more interesting than the incredibly sexy smile in front of her.

"I'll take that as a burger." She said. She looked at Brown eyes, who was shifting his gaze to the other man.

Please don't be gay, please don't be gay, please don't be gay. She thought, praying.

"Me too," Brown eyes said. "And I apologize for my brother's comment." He said scornfully. Kat hid a sigh of relief.

"It's alright," She said. "I get it all the time," She smiled flirtatiously at Sexy, unable to stop herself from asking: "What's your name, Green eyes?"

"Dean." He said. Dean, so simple for someone so good looking. Probably an asshole. She thought hopelessly.

"Nice to meet you," She said. "I'll be back with your beers in just a second." She said, turning.

"Dude, I call dibs." Dean said.

"You always do." Brown eyes huffed. Kat fought hard not to throw her fist in the air and shout a triumphant "YES!"

Four hours later the boys left. Kat had a phone number tucked in her pocket, and she was taking the garbage out from the front register. She didn't particularly like this part of her job. The back alley ion which the dumpster gave her the creeps sometimes. She would remind herself that she carried mace in her apron pocket and monsters only existed in movies, television and books. So tonight, when she stood on her tiptoes and dropped the bag into the stewing abyss, she paid no attention to the footsteps at both sides of the alley. She didn't even know they were there until one came up behind her and cleared his throat.

"Hey pretty lady." He said gruffly. She spun around, her hands pressed to the front of the dumpster. One hand started to go into her apron pocket, then she realized with a pang of fear that she had taken it off before she came out here. The man's head was buzzed, he had a nasty smile, and she could swear his eyes were black as the night around her, as were the other three men that were with him.

"Stay away from me." She warned. The men laughed.

"Why are you out here all alone Honey?" The man closest to her asked. She gave no answer. Fear clogged her throat and fell down her forehead in cold beads of sweat.

"Pretty thing like you shouldn't be out so late." Said another. They were starting to advance on her.

A thousand probable situations ran through her mind at that point. And she didn't want any of them to happen. So, she did what all women are told at the YMCA defense classes. She screamed, long and loud, praying someone would hear her.

I told you being a waitress on a Friday night was dangerous.

--Did you like? Why don't you tell me so.--