Dr. Samuel Beckett had been leaping for quite some time. He never really knew how much time was passing on a regular timeline, since he was always jumping from year to year, and sometimes he would stay there for a few days, while other times he would stay in the other person's body for weeks. However, he never leaped to a time that was outside his own lifetime, so generally any leap to a time prior to 1953 was impossible. He could remember one or two exceptions, but he'd been doing this so long he couldn't be sure.

He wasn't sure how Al, a good friend and senior officer on the program that started this whole mess, had kept the thing running. Without definitive proof that Sam was doing something to help people with Project Quantum Leap, the funding for the project was going to be cut off. This had been threatened on more than one occasion, in fact it had been threatened a few times in just the first few years. But each time Al appeared, he assured Sam everything was going well.

Al watched Sam from the present day, appearing as a hologram tuned to Sam's brainwaves, so only Sam (and a few minor exceptions) could see him. Al always brought along Ziggy, the parallel hybrid computer with an ego. That's what they called her anyway, though not to her face. She could usually find what Sam needed to change in any given scenario so he could leap again. Usually.

Whenever Sam made a leap into another person's existence, that person was sent to a waiting room of sorts. This room was in the present, wherever that was. The person would stay in the waiting room for however long it took Sam to fix whatever had gone wrong in their time. Often they were just as confused as the people working the Project, since Sam looked, to an observer, like the person he had leaped into, while the displaced person in the waiting room looked like Sam.

Sam Beckett had no idea what year it was, and when he looked down at himself, he never thought he looked any older. Al looked older, but Al didn't usually say what year it was, just popped in to offer his assistance and let Sam know what Ziggy thought of the situation.

"Don't worry about me," Al would say. "Worry about getting this right."

So Sam never really worried about it. He would leap, he would help people, he would leap again. It was just something that he did at this point.

There was one leap where Sam came to in a bed in a cheap motel. The last thing he remembered was club in the late fifties. Cigarette smoke had hung in clouds near the ceiling, and Sam had watched as a nervous young girl had made her first performance. Apparently, the first time this scenario had panned out, the girl hadn't been able to make ends meet and this job had been her last option before she had no choice but to turn to prostitution for money. Sam's job on this leap had been to get her the job. After he had helped her get the performance, Al told him, she was able to make a career for herself as a stage performer, and had used her success to start a children's charity. Sam was glad, as he always was, that something had turned out for the better. Then there was the bright blue light that always signaled a leap, and here he was, laying in a bed that wasn't anywhere near comfortable. He stretched his arms under the pillow and brushed something sharp and metallic with his hand. Concerned, Sam sat up and moved the pillow to the side, his eyes falling on a wicked looking knife.

"Oh boy," he said to himself. This did not seem like a situation he wanted to be in, but he did what he always did in a new timeline: he investigated.

When he got up, he realized he wasn't dressed, so he went through a duffel bag that was sitting by the door to the small bedroom and found clothes. He kept the knife he had found in his pocket, figuring that if this person slept with it under a pillow it might be useful.

A glance in the mirror revealed that Sam was in the body of a man in his late twenties or early thirties, sandy blonde hair and green eyes. He was tall too, a bit more than six feet. Sam couldn't quite place why this guy would need a knife as evil looking as the one sheathed in his pocket.

Around the motel room were a few empty beer bottles and quite a few guns and knives. It looked like someone had been cleaning them.

On the desk against the far wall of the room was a note. It read, "Went to grab something to eat. Don't start the case without me."

Case? What the hell? So this guy was some kind of cop? And had a partner?

The note was written on hotel stationary, and the address was somewhere in Oklahoma.

Sam dropped the note back to the desk and went back to the bedroom, looking through the duffel again, hoping for some kind of clue. He didn't find anything that was immediately helpful. What he did find was a stash of fake badges, a flask that was filled with something that Sam determined was water, and a box of salt. So that wasn't helpful, though it was weird. Next he searched the closet, but his finds there weren't any more helpful: a suit, a couple of dress shirts, a few ties, and an outfit that looked startlingly like a Priest's.

After a few minutes, he heard the lock click and the door to the room open. "Dean? Are you up yet?" a voice called.

"Who's there?" Sam asked, standing and walking into the main room.

The other man was tall, taller than this Dean person, and his dark hair was a little long. He looked amused. "It's Sam. Your brother?" he said. "How much did you two drink last night?"

"Probably more than was necessary," Sam, as Dean, said, making mental note of the other man's name while also wondering who Dean had been drinking with the night before.

The other Sam laughed at that. "Yeah, I'm sure. Anyway, I remembered your pie this time, so don't say I never did anything for you." He had set a few grocery bags on the desk and pulled out a boxed Apple Pie. Then he seemed to remember something else and looked around curiously. "Where's Cas?"

"Cas?" Sam asked, looking around.

"Yeah, Cas," the other man said, brow furrowed in confusion and concern. He held his hand up to his chin. "About so high? Wears a trench coat and always manages to have his tie on backwards?"

"Right, Cas," Sam said, running his hands down his pants' legs nervously.

"Is everything okay? Like, are you two...good? You seemed okay last night when I headed out to the bar," the other man said, his voice worried.

"Everything's fine," Sam said, with conviction, he hoped. "I just need a minute." He made his way to the bathroom and locked the door. "Alright Al," he said quietly, "now would be a really good time for you to show up and tell me what I'm supposed to do."

Meanwhile, back at the headquarters of Project Quantum Leap, Dean Winchester came to in the waiting room.

Dean and his brother Sam had had a tough life, growing up hunting the monsters many others believed were just fairy tales. Dean and Sam's mother, Mary Winchester, had been killed when he was very small by a demon with yellow eyes, and their father had become obsessed with finding it and killing it, along the way becoming what was known as a hunter, taking on the monumental task of tracking and killing all of the things that go bump in the night.

In fact, just a few months ago Dean and his brother had averted the Apocalypse. The Archangel Michael was supposed to battle with his fallen brother Lucifer to the death. Sam, acting as Lucifer's vessel, had managed to regain control of his body and throw himself (along with Lucifer and pulling Michael and his vessel along) into Lucifer's cage in Hell.

Dean had thought that was the end, that he was going to have to go on without his family. Not only was Sam trapped in Hell, but Bobby (who in reality had been more of a father than his own father had ever been) was dead, and Castiel...well, Cas was gone too.

But then everything had gone sideways, as it had a habit of doing when it came to the Winchesters.

After Dean had been sitting against his car for who knows how long, bloodied and beaten, Cas was suddenly there again. It was God, Cas said. God brought him back. Dean didn't really question it, didn't see the point. He let Cas heal him before also bringing Bobby back.

"Can you get Sam?" Dean had asked, after he had explained what had happened.

"From the Cage?" Cas had asked, thoughtful. He had been about to say no when he saw the pained look on Dean's face. He sighed. "It will take quite a bit of power, but I should be able to get him." And in a flutter of wings, he was gone. That's how Cas always went, using his wings and Angel powers instead of just walking. Though Hell was a little far to walk.

Dean and Bobby had waited in the graveyard where the fight had been, afraid that if they left, Cas wouldn't be able to get Sam back to them. But they didn't need to wait long; in half an hour, Cas was back, greatly weakened, with an unconscious Sam draped across his shoulders.

Over the next few months, their lives had returned to normal. Bobby had gone home and continued working as he had, providing hunters with information they needed on hunts, answering phones as whatever higher-up was required by a hunter who needed some kind of access. Sam and Dean went back to being hunters, but this time Cas came with them. At first, it was just so Castiel could recover his strength, but over time, his relationship with Dean had grown stronger, and even when his strength had returned, he didn't leave.

And now, Dean was sitting up in the waiting room, rubbing his head. He looked around at the blank walls, studying everything silently. It was a little rectangular room with a door on one of the shorter sides. Dean was sitting on a padded bench that seemed more like a cot the more he thought about it. There was a single chair on the other side.

He stood carefully, thinking that maybe something had kidnapped him in the middle of the night. But that didn't make sense. He had been with Cas, and Cas certainly wouldn't have let anything take him. Unless whatever it was had gotten Cas too, but Dean refused to believe that.

There was a sound of a tumbler being turned over and then the door opened, and a man peered into the room. "Good, you're up," he said, stepping to the room.

Immediately, Dean lunged at the man, pressing him against the wall, his forearm pressed against his throat. "Where the hell am I?" Dean demanded.

The old man was alarmed at this turn of events, but he answered calmly. "You're in a government laboratory in the southwestern U.S. in two thousand twelve."

Dean stared at the man, uncomprehending. "Sorry," he said sarcastically. "Mind running that by me again? I must have misheard you." He pressed his forearm harder into the man's Adam's apple.

The man coughed, but repeated himself.

"How can it be twenty twelve? It was just two thousand and ten. Who the hell are you?"

"Do you mind letting me down?" the man asked, his voice strained. "I'll explain, but it's a bit difficult to breathe."

Dean reluctantly backed away. He glanced to the door, but it had shut and locked when the old man walked in.

"Thank you," the man said, rubbing his neck uncomfortably. "My name is Al Calavicci. I helped develop Project Quantum Leap, which was looking into the process of time travel."

"You have got to be kidding me," Dean said, sitting down and rubbing his forehead. "I have had enough time travel for one lifetime, thanks."

Al furrowed his brow, confused, but he continued, "Our funding was being threatened, so my friend stepping into the Accelerator before we were sure it would work. He's been taking little leaps through history since then. Currently, he's leaped to you."

"Me? Why me?" Dean looked up and met Al's eyes.

"Well usually when he goes anywhere, it's to stop something bad from happening. He sets things straight where they went wrong before," Al explained calmly.

Dean stared at him for a moment, and then did the only thing he could do. He laughed.

"Look, Al, I'm sure you mean well, but bad things have happened to me since I was four. Your friend is a little late with the whole 'stopping something bad.' In fact, he picked probably the worst time to jump in. Things have actually been going well for me, so if you don't mind, I'd like for you to put me back."

"Sorry kid, can't do it," Al said.

Dean's face hardened, no longer laughing. "Why not?" His voice was deathly calm.

Al was a little worried by this sudden change in demeanor, but he continued with his explanation. "The only way you get out is if you stay in this room until Sam leaps to someone else."

"Sam? What's Sam got to do with this?" Dean was suddenly on his feet, afraid to lose his brother again.

"Dr. Samuel Beckett is my friend, the one leaping from person to person," Al said, studying Dean.

"Oh," Dean said, sitting down again.

"I only came to explain," Al said, turning to leave. "I need to get through to Sam so he can get out of your time as quickly as possible."

"You know, Sammy, my brother, and I- we were on a case to save people. We always are. Your friend is a little late to the game."

"You must not have saved someone who should have been saved," Al said as he left. "Or some turn of events led to something that shouldn't have happened. That's why Sam is there." And then Al was gone, the door locking shut behind him.

"I've saved my share of people," Dean said tiredly to the empty room.