Mirror Images

Summary: A part of my Shadows Past series. When Morgan opens her door to Dean Winchester one day during a quest for a witch, she isn't expecting the cold, gruff man that would soon threaten the lives of two of the most important people in her life: Sam and Dean. But not all is as it appears when it soon becomes clear that other characters are working their own angles.

Disclaimer: I don't own the boys or anything related to the world that Supernatural is. Any original characters belong to me.

Warnings: Some violence, nothing graphic. Mentions of events up to right after Swap Meat though I try to keep any spoilers light.

Ratings: T for language and violence.

Pairings: No slash, some minor romance.

Tags: This happens after Swap Meat S5/E14

A/N: Not sure where this little plot bunny came from. This is Season 5 and after watching some early S5 last night this came to me and I wondered what if the Dean from 2014 paid a visit to do the only thing that he believes will save his timeline.


Chapter One

16 Miles Outside Salem, Massachusetts, Present:

"Morgan!" the crashing sound of the door echoed throughout the older Victorian era home after a shotgun took the lock off.

Realizing that stealth probably would have been a better plan in hindsight, he wasn't in the mood for caution or stealth. He'd driven sixteen hours, a record speed setting drive, from South Dakota after a simple telephone call had both confused and terrified him.

Leaving his fevered brother, who had come down with a cold, back with Bobby, he'd ignored the implied threat and obvious trap and come by himself because he'd rather face the danger than leave a friend in danger. A friend who had clearly always been there for him and his brother.

Leveling the shotgun, he slowly went room by room in search of both the young British woman and the supposed threat but found nothing. "Damn it," he muttered, looking up the stairs with a frown.

He'd been hoping the search wouldn't lead him to the second floor. Too many implications and too many places for a foe to hide.

Climbing the steps with as much caution as he was willing to use right then, the young hunter's eyes roamed the many closed doors and considered. A normal foe, human or demon, would probably go for the least suspicious room in the supposed haunted house but his gut told him this wouldn't be the case today.

Deciding to cut down on time and eliminate the most obvious possibility, he headed directly for what had been the master bedroom and what he was sure his friend would be using for data central since he highly doubted she'd use it for an actual place to sleep.

Touching the knob, he finally slowed down. Taking a deep breath, he eased open the door with his foot but was careful to keep the shotgun in a tight grip as he peered into the room.

From his limited view, he caught site of what he'd expected to find. Books, maps, files, and papers strewn all over the place but not from a fight as most would have expected. He knew that while Morgan Harrison was a diligent person and very methodical, her researching methods left a lot to be desired and…

"Oh, shit." he breathed when the door opened more and his gaze landed on the high-backed chair that was placed right where anyone coming in the door could see and his first sight was of his friend tied to that very chair.

Taking a deep breath to calm himself and keep from charging headlong into what was clearly the worlds most obvious trap, he knocked the door back sharply to ensure that if anyone was waiting behind it for him to enter that they'd at least be stunned. Not hearing the expected sound of wood meeting flesh, he kept both his eyes and his weapon trained and moving as he stepped into the room; making a through sweep of the room before deciding it was safe enough to turn his full attention to his friend.

"Morgan?" quickly he knelt down in front of the chair and immediately didn't like the unresponsive state she was in or the thin line of blood that trailed from her scalp and he especially did not care for the bruise on her face or the blood he found after carefully tilting the young woman's head up. "Damn it, what the hell happened?" he asked of the room in general, sliding a gentle hand down her neck to feel for a pulse and found it beating a bit erratically. "It's alright, I'm here and we're getting outta here," he promised, hating that he had to set his weapon aside but needing both hands to cut her free.

Senses on hyper, he was making quick work on the ropes when he felt the first sign of movement under his fingers. "Sshh, almost done," he murmured, knowing that his voice wouldn't get through to her. For the first time he doubted his choice to leave his brother behind in South Dakota. A sound from the hall made him curse and whirl to a standing position in a heartbeat, knife held ready but felt his breath catch and his heart trip as he came face to face with Morgan's attacker…the person whose voice had brought him here alone.

"Hey, Sammy, Long time no see, little brother," Dean Winchester coolly aimed the submachine gun, while stepping into the room and effectively blocking any escape.

"Dean," Sam whispered, staring at the man in front of him but put himself between his 'brother' and Morgan because if Sam was sure of one thing it was that he had left his older brother back at Bobby's and this sure as hell wasn't his brother.

48 hours earlier:

"What the bloody hell do you mean some geek-boy nerdy teenage wannabe witch, warlock, sorcerer or whatever terminology you want to use with delusions of grandeur boby-swapped my Sammy? Where the hell was his brother…or you for that matter?" throwing a folder of useless files onto the rickety table set up in the middle of the former living room, Morgan Harrison felt like choking someone. She just couldn't decide if it should be her so-called mystic or Dean Winchester.

As Jack MacShayne carefully chose his reply to that over the phone, Morgan felt the mild headache she'd had all week go up another notch with the answer. "Oh, good God," she groaned, rubbing the bridge of her nose while muttering under her breath. "A simple spirit…they can't even go look into a damn simple vengeful spirit without running into issues. Where are they now?" looking around the Victorian house one of her local employees had purchased, she was half tempted to toss this and go back to South Dakota. "Jack! I want you to get Erin back from whatever she's doing and sic her on the boys. I don't want either of them to make a move that you don't know about because if the demons have placed a bounty of Dean's head then I want them watched by you 24/7!" she snapped.

It had only been a couple weeks since Morgan had left the Winchester brothers and while she knew they attracted more trouble than a flame does moths she'd been reasonably certain that they could handle a simple vengeful spirit case without bringing anything heavy done on them. "This is Dean, who the hell was I kidding?" she asked herself sourly knowing that trouble could find the elder Winchester without him even having to go looking for it. "Who came down with a cold?" as Jack continued his update, she felt the dull pain in her head get sharper a second before the knock came on the door. "Jack, quit griping and just pop into Bobby's and check on Dean and Sam for me," she ordered, heading for the door since she figured it was either one of the others arriving or the local twit who actually bought this place. "Gotta go, Jack, somebody's knocking on the door."

Not giving the mystic a chance to reply, Morgan swore as another feeling sent a cold chill down her skin. A chill that she didn't care for since it felt like something was trying to invade a link she shared with only one other person.

"Theo, considering you've stuck me with a haunted house that's sitting on burial ground, you're not real…" jerking open the door without thinking to look first, Morgan's threat died in the middle of it as she found herself staring up into the green eyes of…Dean Winchester. "Hey," she greeted quietly, not quite hiding her surprise at seeing him and knowing it when one eyebrow lifted.

"Hey yourself, babe," he returned, gaze calm but something seemed to flash through his eyes that she couldn't place before it was gone and he offered a smile. "Not the greeting I was expecting."

"Considering Jack just told me you were sicker than the proverbial bloody dog in South Dakota you weren't the bloke I was expecting to find on my doorstep, hotshot," Morgan replied, a strange feeling of unease warning her to be careful but she knocked it away to step back and allow him to come in. "Where's Sammy? And how the bloody hell did you let some geek warlock swap bodies with him under your nose?" she demanded all in one breath, shutting the door but not locking it and missing the way he tensed at the questions.

Looking around the old house with a mild interest, Dean turned back to Morgan to finally shrug. "Sam…he stayed with…Bobby so I could come here," he murmured, noticing that the young British woman seemed pale and could tell by the way she twisted a piece of long auburn hair that she was uneasy. "So, haunted house?"

"A soon to be dead employee didn't check the land deeds or the history too close," she complained bitterly, stepping past him to head for what she liked to call the kitchen. "I have soda, soda, and water, nothing alcoholic."

Morgan knelt to take a bottle of water out of the cooler, choosing to take a closer look at her friend. Dean seemed tense as he followed her. The body language was all wrong since it reminded her more of Kelly's cautious way of moving when in the field instead of the casual cocky swagger that Dean almost always used. She also began to take notice of other little things that only someone who knew him well would catch but the most telling thing was his clothes.

Dean Winchester either wore that battered leather jacket that had belonged to his Dad or a dark blue denim jacket. She'd never seen him in the dark green almost military style coat like he worse now. Accepting that new clothes were always a possibility, Morgan didn't allow her sense of caution to win out. She'd been through too much recently and just chalked up the paranoia to that.

"Water it is then," she held out the bottle, not surprised when his fingers brushed against her arm before taking the bottle. "Jack said you were sick. Something about being out in the rain making the geek-nerd dumpster dive for your cell phone."

Slowly taking a drink of water, Dean's eyes seemed to roam over the room as if judging things like Morgan herself often would in a combat situation before they came to her. "It's been a long time, Morgan," he began slowly, sitting the bottle down to close the distance between them.

"It's been a little over a week, Dean," Morgan grinned, the sixth sense in the back of her mind warning her to put more space between them just as he brought her into his arms for a kiss that briefly made the doubts and concern vanish until something began to dawn on her…

Dean Winchester had always been tall, lean and rugged with a wiry strength in his upper body but not even at fourteen had she ever felt fear when he would hold her. Today, the strength she felt in his arms made little spurts of fear shoot through her.

Morgan also noticed the difference in his hands. Despite being outdoors most of his life and using his hands in various ways, Dean's hands weren't as hard or calloused as the ones that had slowly slid up to cup her face between them. The most telling sign and the one that warned her of the danger was the kiss itself since no matter what he'd done with other girls Dean, even last week, had always made certain to control the kiss. He never let himself get too rough or force the kiss and the second she felt him deepen the kiss past the usual safe spot that Dean always seemed to stop on even when Morgan herself was still fine, she knew this wasn't her friend.

"Dean, stop," having to use more strength than normal to push him back, Morgan struggled to not show fear or let on that she had suspicions at least until she could gain some space to move. "Dean!"

It was the tone that warned him that he'd gone too far even before he felt the slender arms under his hands tremble. "I'm sorry," he murmured, easing back but not breaking the hold he now hand on her arms. "It's been too long since I could kiss…you," Dean's tone now was deeper, more gruff yet when he brushed a thumb over her bottom lip it was with a gentleness that seemed to hurt him. "You know, don't you?"

"You're not Dean," Morgan whispered, tensing to fight when she found herself pinned to the kitchen wall by strong hands and a body that seemed to know her most instinctive moves since he made certain to keep her pinned. "Let…go of…" she gasped when he quickly grabbed her hand that was reaching for the small silver switchblade she always carried in her back pocket.

"No, I'm not the Dean you left a week ago but I'm also not a damn shapeshifter so let's leave the knife alone," he replied, dropping the tone he had been using and if Morgan had further doubts that this was her friend this man's normal tone of voice erased them. "I don't want to hurt you, Morgan, so don't fight me."

Hating to be pinned or held, especially by a man she didn't trust, Morgan could've laughed in his face and was tempted if he hadn't turned a smirk on her that was pure Dean Winchester. "I don't have to have my hands free to get rid of you, slick," she snapped, figuring if he was a shapeshifter or something that she could figure it out once she got free of his hold. But instead of seeing him fly across the kitchen as was planned, she hissed as burning pain shot through her head when her attempt to use a mild burst of her power to shove him back only managed to move him back a foot.

While it was enough to break his hold, the pain it caused made doing any more than drop to her knees impossible. Swearing bitterly and fighting the growing fear, Morgan reached for the knife on the floor when a strong hand gripped hers. "No…"

"Does your Dean know you can't use your powers on him, Morgan?" 'Dean' asked mildly, kneeling down to knock the knife out of her reach before pulling her back to her feet but was quick to trap her wrists in one of his hands at the small of her back. "He doesn't, doe he? He doesn't know that there are limits to your powers since that link was formed and that slapping him in the head is probably all you could do to him…or me."

"What are you?" she demanded, refusing to show this thing fear but still jerked when his fingers touched her throat to lift the silver chain of the necklace she wore. "Don't touch that. You're not him so…"

With a sigh, he lifted his eyes to see the fear in her blue ones and recalled a time in his life that he'd sworn never to cause this woman to ever fear him. "I'm not a 'shifter, or a ghoul, or a skinwalker, or anything else that's probably bouncing around your head, Angel," 'Dean' felt the way she stilled in his grasp at the simple use of the nickname and he smiled. "You can read my thoughts to find out who I am if you'd calm down."

Not liking the way he seemed to be able to block her powers in a way that Dean could only do to a lesser degree, Morgan strained against his hold until he shoved her back harder but when he went to grasp her chin she was quick to just go limp.

"Sonuvabitch," he growled, forgetting how quick the girl could be and went to readjust his hold when an open handed palm strike to his jaw made him fall back with a harsh oath. "Morgan, don't make this harder on yourself!"

Upon realizing that whatever this was could not only affect her abilities but also have a slight control over the link she shared with Dean, Morgan knew the best thing to do was to get clear of his influence and shout for a mystic. To do that however, meant getting to the door and she wasn't sure with the way her head was ringing if that would be possible.

"No bloody 'shifter should be able to do this," she muttered, turning a second before she was knocked down to be pinned on the floor. "You're not Dean so lose the damn image!" she snapped, refusing to let this happen again. "Angels, demons, 'shifters! I won't let you use him and get away from…" Morgan tried to jerk free when strong fingers gripped her face to force her to look at him.

"Look at me!" 'Dean' ordered sharply, the tip of a well worn knife touching her throat. "Use those damn powers and read my mind! See what and who I am!" he ordered, feeling the second she did and knowing when realization came. "I do not want to hurt you but you're my only way to Dean and Sammy, little girl."

Staring up at him, Morgan's breath had stopped as she saw in brutal flashes who this was. "He…he said you died," she whispered, confusion and fear mingling. "Dean said that…"

"Angels have a bad habit of changing things, babe," 'Dean' replied with a bitter laugh, keeping his full weight on the young woman even though he knew on gut instinct that it scared her. "I hadn't seen or heard from one in years until I woke up to that smirking bastard Zachariah leaning over me. He said that even though your Dean didn't learn a damn thing from his trip to see what damage Sam does to the world, there was still time to fix it…if I could do it."

The merest mention of the self-serving bald arrogant Angel and Morgan knew what this was about. "Dean going five years into the future didn't hurt anything…you being here could screw it up worse than it already is," she argued, trying to twist under his weight when images of recent weeks started coming back and the panic she was burying grew. "Get…off…" feeling the strength of his hands as they gripped her arms to jerk her up from the floor. "Coming here won't get you…"

A hard backhand sent her falling into the rickety table, stunning her more than both the shock of seeing him and the screwed up mental link had already done. "I didn't need Zach telling me that you're Dean's other weakness to know that to get him all I had to do was find you." he remarked, reaching into a pocket of his jacket. "Hell, I knew that already because you were always my other weakness."

"Dean…I won't let him…come here so you can kill him, bastard," Morgan spat, tasting blood while she struggled to move when he grabbed her arm to twist it hard behind her back as he placed a knee against her back to hold her still.

"It's not Dean I want, sweetheart," the Dean who came from five years in the future replied in a harder tone while showing her the needle in his hand. "Hold still cause if you jerk and this goes in wrong not even Dean could save you this time," he warned, feeling her still at the sight of the needle and swearing he wouldn't let the frightened cry affect him as the needle slid into her arm. "It'll only hurt for a little while then you'll go to sleep and when you wake up...it'll be over."

Feeling the drug burn as it went into the vein, Morgan's eyes blurred but she struggled to focus on the face of a man who looked so much like her friend but could be so different that it scared her. "Dean…won't let…you hurt Sam," she told him, feeling her hand brush against her face. "I…won't let you hurt them."

"Babe, you don't have a choice," 'Dean' replied grimly, reaching down to lift her into his arms. "We're going to call Sammy and with Dean sick, yeah I know all about that little body swap mess they got into, he'll come for you alone. Because like you and I would always protect Sammy, I know he'll always try to protect you and Dean," he went on, carrying her upstairs without a struggle now that the drug was making it impossible to fight.

Dragging a chair in from the hall, 'Dean' considered a moment before tying the nearly unconscious young woman to it after he made certain to remove any sharp objects that he knew she'd be carrying and then sat on the edge of the bed to stare at her for a long time. "I'm sorry," he whispered, lifting her face up in his head and not caring for the way she was responding so quickly to what should've been a mild drug but not having any other choice but to use her like this.

" 'You've become a bloody cold-blooded bastard, Dean,'" words echoed in his head from what seemed like a lifetime ago to him as he looked at something he carried in his pocket. " 'This is still Sammy and we promised that no one would hurt him. Doesn't that apply to his own brother?'" he recalled the pain in her voice as she asked him that shortly after Detroit happened and they lost the boy that had meant so much to both of them.

Stroking a thumb along Morgan's cheek, he felt the tears that nearly made him waver before his gaze fell on the item he clutched in his hand and he recalled wiping tears off his Morgan's face the last night he'd held her. "That hasn't applied to Sammy since the day he killed you and to spare both you and this time's Dean that same pain, Sam's got to be stopped," he declared, picking up her discarded cell phone to run through the memory only to smile thinly before pressing the speed dial button and waited.

"Hi, and before you bitch I have a perfectly good excuse for what happened with Gary," Sam Winchester sounded light hearted and relaxed for the first time in a long while, and considering he was still suffering from the left over effects of Gary's breathing problems, was a strange thing for him. At least he was until he didn't hear the voice he expected to hear. "Morg?"

"Morgan can't come to the phone right now, Sammy," the 'Dean' from the future spoke seriously, moving so he could kneel beside the young woman. "In fact, if you ever want her to be able to talk to you or Dean again, then I suggest you listen to me very carefully."

Fist tightening around the phone, Sam shot a confused look at Bobby Singer before focusing back on the phone. "Who is this and where's Morgan?" he demanded tightly, knowing with Dean finally asleep upstairs that he couldn't wake his brother for this…even though the odds were good that his brother would kick his ass when he found out that he hadn't. "If you hurt her…"

"She hurt herself by fighting back," 'Dean' replied tightly, holding the phone out to her. "Talk to Sammy, Angel."

"You. Don't. Call. Her. That," Sam gritted, ignoring how eerily familiar the voice on the phone was and refusing to allow some stranger to use the nickname only his brother could for their friend. "Morgan?"

Hearing the fake 'Dean's' voice talking on the phone, Morgan's thoughts were blurred with pain, concern, and fear when she heard Sam's voice and she wanted to scream. "No…Sammy…stay away," she struggled to impress on the younger man that he needed to stay away. "Sam! Don't…oh!"

"Not smart, babe," 'Dean' told her roughly after his slap seemed to finish bringing unconsciousness on and he heard the threats from the other end of the phone. "You want to save her, kiddo. You know where she was last so that's where I am but Sammy? If you're smart, you'd bring your brother with you." he shut the phone down, guessing the boy would follow the GPS signal. "Sammy'll come and then God help us all but I'll do what that damn Angel wants and kill him…" he whispered to the icy cold room.

Present day:

Keeping himself between Morgan and this man who looked way too much like his brother for comfort, Sam shifted the knife in his hand. "What are you?" he demanded tightly, refusing to feel fear even though this sight was bringing back memories of St. Louis and that shapeshifter who had assumed his brother's form and tried to kill him.

With a dry laugh and a half smirk that was too much like Dean for Sam's liking, the man threw the lock on the bedroom door before sitting the weapon aside to hold out a small silver blade. "Just so you know that I'm on the level," he explained, slicing the blade across his exposed arm to show that it bled cleanly with no hissing or other reaction like a shapeshifter or ghoul would have. "You really want to see the reaction to salt or holy water, Sammy?"

"It's Sam," he replied tightly, hearing a soft whimper from his friend but knowing he couldn't risk taking his eyes off this man. "What are you?" Sam demanded again, more intently this time. "What did you do to her?"

"You know who I am, Sam," 'Dean' replied easily, noticing the way the boy kept himself between him and Morgan and was silently proud of that. It had been so long since he had seen his little brother in person that he'd nearly forgotten what Sam was like before…before Detroit and before Dean had lost everything else good in his life.

Hazel eyes met the harder looking green eyes of this man who looked like Dean. "Another trick by Zachariah since he knows he can hurt Dean by hurting Morgan," Sam spat, refusing to let that happen again. "Did you hurt her like he did in West Virginia?" he asked, grip tightening on the knife. "I'll kill you if you…"

"Come again?" 'Dean' stared at the boy before letting his eyes drop to Morgan, recalling the way she fought as soon as he'd pinned her down and the brief flashes of memory he picked up and he bitterly recalled why he despised that Angel in his own time. "Zach hurt her to get to Dean here?" he swore to shove something in that bastard's heart but sighed. "No. I didn't hurt her like that, Sammy. She fought back and I might've hit harder than I thought but the drug'll wear off…sometime. Sam, surely Dean told you about me…"

Slowly, Sam began to realize who he was looking at and for some reason that scared him more than the thought of this being a shapeshifter. "Dean said that…he said that you were dead," he murmured, knowing exactly what his brother had told him of that time five years in the future.

"Yeah, the last time Dean saw me you, well to be fair, Lucifer in your body, had just killed me," 'Dean' admitted, stepping further into the room while not letting Sam see what he had behind his back. "Zach made sure I got better and then gave me the option to do what your brother can't," he explained, noticing that Sam was making sure to keep his position in front of the semi-conscious Morgan. "You can't protect her, Sammy," he remarked sadly. "She was a nice tool to use to get you here but…"

"My brother loves her," Sam cut him off bitterly, wondering what else had happened to this man to turn him this hard, this bitter, this cold. "You hurt her. You drugged her. Dean wouldn't do that. Nothing could ever make Dean hurt Morgan…not even Dad. If you're supposed to be my brother in five damn years, how could you? Or didn't you have her in your time?" he asked, hoping to by himself enough time to get a handle on this or to have a mystic or an Angel show up.

A brief flash of pain could be seen in the older man's tired eyes before it turned even harder as he pulled the Colt .45 out from under his jacket to aim it at Sam. "Yeah, I had Morg," he admitted with a tired smile, tossing what he held in his other hand at the startled young hunter. "I had her up until the night she died in my arms because Morgan still believed you could be saved even after Lucifer took you and against my better judgment I let her try to bring you back," gazing between the Sam's pained face and Morgan, 'Dean' aimed the .45. "I was too far away to get to her before he…you literally ripped her heart out and my wife dead in my arms. That's why I need to do this. The only way to save you and save them from that pain is to kill you," he went on grimly, looking up finally to meet Sam's eyes with tears in his own. "I'm sorry, Sammy," he whispered, pulling the trigger to fire the Colt's .45 caliber round into Sam's chest. "I'm sorry."


A/N: Yep, I do seem to love ending on these nasty cliffhangers. Of course, we all know I won't do a deathfic but I do come close so will Sammy make it out of this without being shot? Will Dean find out what's happening? And what the heck is Zachariah up to this time? Of course, the ghost may also have a say in this too. Chapter 2 coming soon.

As always, I appreciate everyone who reads and also those who choose to review. Thanks!