So this is another attempt at a Damon/Dean (Demon) fic inspired and written for the lovely Ange De La Misericorde.

I am not entirely sure where I will be going with this but for starts...(Not good at summaries)

During a hunt, Dean is hit with a cursed object which sends him back in time to none other than 1864 where he meets the human Damon Salvatore. It is then that Dean and Damon fall in love until Dean is ripped away and sent back to present time...where he then meets the vampire Damon Salvatore. How will that change the lives of both of the men?

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Warnings: Violence, Blood/Gore, Death, Language, slash/smut, references to wars. Some of the them will be off character because there was not enough 1864 Damon to go off of.

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Also set in season 5 of Supernatural and season 2 of The Vampire Diaries.

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Chapter 1

"Dean, I think we should just check it out," Sam urged as he stared down at the laptop while they drove along the highway.

"It just sounds like someone looking for attention, Sammy," Dean said as he stared ahead at the road.

"Its only like an hour away. The least we could do is talk to the victim," Sam pressed on, staring at his brother.

Dean sighed and rolled his eyes, "Fine," he said, "but if this is nothing, you're paying for a all my drinks for the night."

"Whatever," Sam said, closing his laptop.

It was silent for a moment before Dean spoke, "To Mystic Falls we go," with that, he blared the radio, Slaughter sounding from the speakers.

. . .

Amy Billerg was a 20 year old girl with dark blonde hair and hazel eyes. She sat at a booth in the diner, hugger her arms around her chest.

Dean examined her, noticing the way she held herself...the way her eyes were dancing around the room, looking for a sign of danger. She honestly had the look of someone who had seen a lot of crap.

"You wouldn't believe me...nobody believes me," Amy said, jumping a little when the diner door opened.

"We aren't like everyone...what happened to you, Amy?" Sam asked, throwing out his puppy dog eyes.

Amy turned to him and seemed to relax a little, "I was sent back in time," she said, shaking her head.

Dean and Sam exchanged glances and Dean spoke, "Back in time? How?"

"I...I have no idea. One second, I'm walking into the old Canery House and the next, there is a flash and I wake up..." she paused and took a deep breath, shaking her head.

"Amy, where did you wake up?" Sam asked slowly.

" was a concentration camp," Amy said, her voice cracking and eyes watering, "...i-it was horrible."

Dean's stomach turned at the thought of what it must have been like, "Are you sure that was where you were?"

Amy stared at them in confusion, "You believe me?"

"We have very open minds...tell us, how did you know?" Sam asked.

Amy took a deep breath, "Th...they were lining us up. I knew what was happening..." her voice cracked more as tears slid down her cheeks, "There were children there...they had no idea."

Dean had to hold his breath from cursing. How he wished he was alive back then, "How did you get away?"

"I...I don't know. I was put into the dark room...a-and then I just woke up on the floor of the old house all alone," Amy explained, now grabbing napkins to wipe the tears from her eyes.

Dean allowed Sam to do his nice talk to calm her down before more questions.

"So what is so special about the house you went into?" Dean asked. They were posing as writers making an article about her story.

"It's known to be was a dare. My friend, Cindy said I was too afraid to go in," Amy explained.

"What is the story behind the place?" Dean asked, pretending to write things down.

"Legend is the woman who lived there was a witch who was hanged in the basement by a group of men on the street back in 1867," Amy explained, "They never found the body but its rumored she haunts the place and curses the people who enter."

"Thank you for a your time, Amy. We are going to figure this out, alright," Sam said softly, giving her a warm smile.

Dean just nodded at her as they stood up.

"Thank you for believing me," Amy said sincerely before walking off, arms still tightly wrapped around her body.

Sam and Dean walked over to the Impala and hopped in before speaking.

"It's worth looking into," Sam said, turning to his brother.

Dean stared ahead for a moment, knowing what Amy said had to be true...just everything about her made it like she had really seen some shit. He nodded, "Yeah. Let's go find that bitch's grave."

. . .

"All I can find is that the woman's name was Ilian Canery. It was reported as a disappearance. Nobody knows where she could be," Sam said after a while. He turned from where he sat at the table in the motel room and glanced over at Dean, who was sitting on one of the beds, looking through some newspapers.

"Well, we go there and check it out ourselves," Dean said with a shrug.

"You find anything else?" Sam asked, knowing it was pointless. Dean was never that good at research.

Dean knit his eyebrows and turned to Sam, "I don't think its just a ghost problem here, Sammy. I've found like five reports of animal the past few months..each victim ripped the hell up."

"Werewolf?" Sam asked curiously.

"That or vampires," Dean said, "I dug deeper and it seems there have been attacks like this going on for years."

Sam pursed his lips, "Huh...a lot to go on in such a small town."

"That's usually how it goes," Dean said simply. He placed down the papers and turned to his brother, "So what'ya say we go check out that house?"

Sam nodded.

. . .

It was dark as they entered the old, barren building.

Dean covered his nose as they walked in. It smelled like mold and dust, everything covered in cobwebs just illuminated by the moonlight outside shining through the windows. He flicked on his flashlight and held the shotgun loaded with rock salt close.

"Dean!" Sam shouted in the voice Dean knew meant to duck.

Dean jumped to the side just in time to avoid a woman leaping at him. Instantly, he shot a round at her. She hissed and jumped back.

Once the brothers got a look at her, they glanced at each other in confusion. So she wasn't a witch. The woman was older with dark black hair and she wore a pale white dress covered in smudges of crimson. She held a baseball bat in her hand which had a pale blue glow around it.

"Winchester," the woman, Ilian, Dean guessed, hissed.

"You must be Ilian the bitchy witch," Dean snarked back.

Sam immediately lunged at her, shooting more rounds from the regular handgun he held.

All that did was cause her to hiss out in anger, "Not a witch," she smirked devilishly, flashing them black eyes.

"Shit," Dean cursed under his breath as he felt his body thrown back into a wall, cracking the wood paneling behind it.

Sam moved forward, unsheathing the demon killing knife. It was a blur as the flashlights both clattered to the ground.

Dean winced and stood back up, moving to grab one of the lights. He jumped up when Sam slammed down beside him, the demon knife sliding across the floor.

Without another thought, Dean moved for the knife which was a few feet from him. Before he could grasp it, a boot slammed onto his hand and he cried out in pain. He went to look up only to see the baseball bat rushing towards his face. There was a flash of light before everything went black.

"Dean," Sam gasped as he jumped up and tackled the demon down. Through the darkness, he slid his hand over the floor, grasping the knife and slamming into the chest of the demon just as she went to move.

Skeletal light flashed within the body for a moment before she went limp on the floor. Sam immediately pulled the knife out and ignored the dropped flashlights and guns to tend to his brother.

His stomach turned to see Dean unconscious on the floor, blood slowly dripping down from his forehead.

"Dean," Sam hissed, pushing on his brother but there was no response, "Dammit."

Sam glanced at the semi glowing baseball bat and gently placed it into his bag before lifting Dean up.

. . .

. . .

Sam sighed as he stared at his brother still conscious on the bed. He wasn't sure what happened but he knew it had to do with the semi-glowing baseball bat.

He instantly picked up the phone the moment it began to ring, "Bobby? What did you find out?" Sam asked, beginning to pace around the room, staring at the bat which lay upon the other bed.

"Seems like you've come across a cursed object," Bobby spoke over the phone, "Getting hit by it sends your ass back in time."

" it always the same time?" Sam asked, his heart clenching at the idea of Dean being in a concentration camp.

"Legend says the holder of the bat decides where the victim goes," Bobby said, his voice worried, "You said it was a demon who knocked Dean with it."

"Yeah," Sam said, trying hard not to panic. Who knows where a demon would send Dean, of all people, "How does someone get back?"

"I'm not sure, Sam. I've only found a couple things on it and one says when the person dies and the other says that...sometimes they just never come back," Bobby explained.

Sam took a deep breath, calming himself down before an idea hit him, "Okay. Thank you Bobby," he said before hanging up.

He waited a moment as he stared at Dean, who just looked like he was in a really deep sleep. He then glanced up, "Uh...Dear Castiel...we could really use your help down here."

He waited again with no response and began to pace again before pulling out his laptop.

. . .

. . .

Dean groaned as he felt a hand pressing down on his chest. His head throbbed painfully as he opened his eyes, focusing on the face over him. He knit his eyebrows when he realized it wasn't Sam. It was dark but Dean could tell this guy had icy blue eyes and dark, somewhat shaggy hair beneath his gray beret.

"What are you doing out here?" the man asked in a hushed tone.

Dean blinked a few times before realizing he had to be in the woods somewhere. He could hear a few gunshots and shouts. He began to sit up but grunted when he felt his body pushed fully to the ground as the man lay flat down as well. Dean's eyes widened when a huge bullet or something whizzed just over their heads.

"What is your name?" the man whispered, lifting his head just slightly.

"Dean," Dean replied, his heart racing in fear of where he was or what was going on.

"Okay Dean, just keep quiet, stay down and follow me," the man ordered, his tone demanding in a way that made Dean feel like listening. He nodded, just wanting to get out of wherever they were.

For what felt like hours, they silently stalked through darkness, hiding behind trees to dodge shots that literally blew holes into the trees.

Dean felt relief when he could see what appeared to be a camp not far from where they were.

"Damon, what are you doing?" a voice whispered and Dean turned to see another man in uniform lying on the ground with a badass looking gun in his hands. Dean realized then that they had to be some sort of military but he couldn't exactly pinpoint the uniforms they were wearing.

"Civilian in the middle of the field," Damon hissed like it was the most absurd thing.

Dean was about to say something but there was a shot and the other man suddenly went limp on the ground, blood soaking through his gray top.

Dean's stomach flipped and he glanced over to see who he now knew as 'Damon' pause and stare at the other man for a moment before seeming to shake it off., "Let's go quick."

Dean wanted to speak again but he was already being dragged along. Once they made it to what looked like a camp area, Damon seemed to ease up and immediately walked them over to a tent.

"Salvatore," a firm, demanding voice spoke.

Dean watched as Damon instantly straightened up in a stance like parade rest, "Yes Captain?"

"What is the meaning of this?" the Captain asked, pointing to Dean, who felt too much in shock to speak. He was too busy staring at the bodies lying around the tents. They were covered in blood, missing limbs and only a few being tended to.

"I found this civilian in the middle of the field," Damon replied firmly.

The Captain narrowed his beady hazel eyes at Dean, "What were you doing out here? How did you get here?"

Dean hated being spoken to like some breakable child but he bit his tongue at the comments he wanted to say. He honestly had no idea where he was, "I don't remember," he replied.

The Captain glanced over at Damon, "Your father still taking in stragglers?"

Damon nodded, "Yes."

"Bring him there and take rest," the Captain ordered.

"Roger," Damon said and he gave Dean a nudge to move forward.

Dean felt sick seeing all of the bodies scattered around and he hated that there was nothing he could do to help them. He pulled out his phone as he followed Damon aimlessly. Obviously, no service...then again, Dean knew he had to be in some older time.

"Do you have a place to go?" Damon suddenly asked and Dean glanced up at him, noticing more features now that they were in dim firelight. He had to admit this man was handsome with defined features and a strong jawline. His eyes were literally like ice.

"Is there a motel around?" Dean asked, pausing when he noticed Damon placing a bag over the back of a tall, muscular beautiful brown and white horse.

Damon knit his eyebrows, "Not that I am aware of," he said, voice smooth, "My father's estate has many extra rooms. You can stay there until we figure out your situation," he pulled over another horse which was somewhat smaller but the same coloring.

"Okay," Dean said even though he wasn't entirely comfortable with the idea of that. He needed to figure out how to get back to his time. Then again, this man literally just saved his ass.

"Take Ellie," Damon said, patting the smaller horse, "But watch out, she has quite the temperament," he smiled as he brushed a hand through her mane.

Dean lifted his eyebrows, knowing he had never rode a horse in his life, "No way I'm getting on that thing."

Damon now arched an eyebrow, "Why is that?"

Dean hesitated, "Can't we just take a car or something."

Damon knit his eyebrows, "You should see a medic. I believe you have a concussion...probably from a blast."

Dean sighed as he stared at the horse.

"You can ride with and Ernie," Damon said, smirking a little as he pulled the reins of the horse over."

"Dude, that's really gay," Dean said, shaking his head.

"That or you can ride with Andy over there," Damon said, pointing over to a big, muscular man that made Dean even seem small.

Dean sighed, "Fine," he said, hesitating as he walked over to the horse. He felt a sense of awkwardness pass over him as he struggled to get on the back of horse. He could hear Damon chuckle before hands pushed him up onto the steed.

"I coulda' done it," Dean snapped, flushing a little when Damon just grinned before jumping up in front of Dean.

Already, Dean felt uncomfortable being so close to a man. He tried to move as far back as possible until the horse began to trot and he almost flipped backwards. With that, he leaned forward, grabbing onto Damon's coat.

Damn, Dean hated horses.

For a few minutes, they rode through the dark woods and pathway, missing gunshots every once in a while. Dean could feel adrenaline coursing through him almost the entire time.

They suddenly began to slow down and Dean released instantly, realizing he had his arms wrapped around the other man.

"Sorry about that, we needed to make haste to avoid the shots," Damon explained as they rode at a normal pace in a more quiet, lighter area. It was still a path but Dean could see light ahead and knew they were nearing civilization.

"What exactly is going on?" Dean asked, finding his voice and wanting least to know when he was.

"It's war...are you sure you're alright?" Damon asked, glancing over his shoulder a bit.

Dean obviously knew it was a war but had no idea which one, "Where are we?"

"Virginia," Damon said, shaking his head.

Dean thought harder about a war going on in or around Virginia. He wished he paid more attention in history, "The Civil War?"

"Yes...what are you, a caveman?" Damon asked, shaking his head as he sped up the horse once more.

Dean's stomach turned again...Civil War...Virginia...Damon had to be a Confederate soldier...that much he knew. He just couldn't think of the year-span this went on.

. . .

It was silent for a while before they finally reached an was huge and mansion-like and pure white. It was a relief compared to the death he had seen on the way.

Once they arrived in the front and Damon stopped the horse, Dean instantly jumped off, his ass now numb. He stared up at the white building as lights turned on.

The door suddenly flew open and another man walked out wearing a white button up top and brown slacks. His hair was somewhat messy like Damon's but a mid-shade of brown. He looked to be in his late teens, "Damon!" he said, his voice rising in excitement. He instantly ran over and literally threw himself at Damon just as he got off the horse.

Damon let out a laugh, "Stefan, it has only been a few months," but he hugged back for a moment before pulling away.

"Why have you returned?" Stefan asked, his face still lit like a little kid on Christmas.

Dean felt uncomfortable watching this moment and wondered what the relation was to the two.

"I picked up a straggler in the battlefield," Damon said, pointing over at Dean.

Stefan turned to him, "Oh, my apologies. I didn't see you. My name is Stefan Salvatore," he held out a hand.

Dean knew to play along to get through this. He shook the guy's hand, "Dean Winchester."

"Winchester?" Damon questioned warily, "Any relation to Oliver Winchester?"

Dean's heart skipped a beat, "Oh...oh no way."

"What is this I hear?" another voice sounded and Dean turned to see a woman walk out. He had to double take a look at how stunning she was with her long, curling wavy locks of hair and what seemed like an old victorian dress but more like night garments.

Her eyes lit playfully.

"Katherine," Damon said and Dean noticed the man's features light up like this woman was the most prized possession in the was almost unnatural.

She smiled and gracefully strode over, wrapping her arms around Damon, "I had the most glorious feeling I would see you soon."

Dean examined the way Stefan was watching Damon and Katherine interact and he could tell that both were in love with her. She then pulled away from Damon and eyed Dean with hungry eyes.

Dean felt hunter instincts kick in at once at the way she stared at was not an ordinary hunger.

"Who are you, handsome?" she asked, voice smooth and seductive and it sent chills down Dean's spine. There was something off about this woman.

"Dean," he said, keeping a safe distance away.

"Are there any bars nearby?" Dean asked, really wanting a drink now.

"I'm not sure what you mean by a bar but we have a liquor room," Damon said, his smile returning. Dean could tell at once that is was a false gesture, "I'll show you."

Dean gave Stefan and Katherine a nod before following Damon into the large estate.

. . .

. . .

Sam huffed out as he closed his laptop. He had been researching for hours with nothing. He glanced over at Dean, who still hadn't moved a single inch on the bed.

"Castiel...really need some assistance here. I think Dean is in some serious trouble," Sam tried again, staring up. He waited another moment then jumped when he heard the brush of wings.

Sam turned to see Castiel standing beside the bed where Dean lay. He was staring down with his head tilted.

"I've been calling for hours," Sam said, standing up with annoyance.

"I know, Sam but I have been very busy," Castiel said firmly, setting blue eyes on him.

Sam nodded, knowing it wasn't Cas' fault. He was just stressed out.

"What happened?" Castiel questioned as he leaned down to examine Dean closer, pressing a hand over his forehead and lifting his eyelids. Sam swore the angel sniffed him.

"We went to check out a hunt and some demon slammed Dean with this bat and now I think he's somewhere in the past," Sam explained.

Castiel then moved over to the bat, tilting his head once more as he ran a hand over the semi glowing aura. It seemed to flicker with his touch, "This is the 'the bat of yesterday'," he said, "Has been lost for a very long time."

Sam lifted his eyebrows, "Well...can we help Dean? I know you have access to all that time travel stuff."

Castiel straightened up, "A hit from this object can send a person wherever the holder wants them to go. That can be anywhere, anytime."

"I get that...can you help or not?" Sam asked, hating the stress.

"I can but it will take much time. I would have to travel to all years in search of him...when I find him, I can pull him back," Castiel said slowly.

"Well then go," Sam urged.

"If I can find him," Castiel continued, "Do you not comprehend the fact that he can be at any time. This could take years."

"It is at least worth a shot...please, Cas. I can't think of anything else," Sam practically begged.

"I will look," Castiel said and vanished before Sam could get another word out.

Sam ran a hand over his face before returning back to the computer.

. . .

. . .