AN: So, this is gonna be a document filled with most of the Supernatural fanfics that my twin sister and I never finished. Some of them will be short, some of them with at least two chapters. Feel free to adopt any of the stories you read, ya only have to email me if you want to. Just, y'know, enjoy.

Warnings: Bit of language, as is expected of the Winchesters.

Disclaimer: In a sad bout of horrific coincidence, neither I nor my sister own Supernatural or it's charming-several evil, but still charming-characters. We share this distressing news with a solemn air, asking that you don't turn away with a cynical snort as you're clearly wont to do.

Thank you.

I'm sure that, if my sister and I had, by some glorious miracle, owned Supernatural, you'd have been glad for us and not-I repeat, not-come at us with numerous weapons and undisguised ill intent. I'm sure of it.

("I'm proud of us.")

Dean was dead.

Again.

"This sucks out loud," he complained.

Understatement.

He was in a hospital, for some reason. A familiar one. Funny, he didn't remember any hospitals in Metatron's warehouse.

He moved out of the strangely empty room and down the hall. No one seemed to see him. No one heard him or felt him.

This was just getting creepy.

He was walking passed a door when he heard Sammy's voice. Thank God. He stepped inside, and immediately froze where he stood.

There Sam was, sitting on the edge of a hospital bed, talking calmly to John 'Not As Dead As You Thought I Was' Winchester.

Dean could have sworn that was his specialty. What, did he go back in time or something? Did a Djinn get him? A witch?

He waved his hands at his brother and father. "Hello, need some freakin' help here. I'm kind of dead right now, so you might experience some emotional difficulty . . ."

They ignored him.

Family. You just couldn't choose it.

"Listen, Sammy," Dean started, "I'm sorry about just dyin' on you like that . . ."

No answer.

"Dude. Here I am, all ready for a stupid chick-flick moment, and you snub me?"

Still no answer.

"I sold my soul for you lot!" he exclaimed. "And this is how you repay me?"

Great. Now he sounded like Crowley.

Awesome.

"Dad, man, I totally consorted with all kinds of demons. Oh, and angels. And one vampire. Okay, two."

John didn't even bat an eyelash.

"Also a few werewolves. And witches. And skinwalkers. and fairies. And we stole a baby shifter once." He paused. "I'm creeping myself out."

There was no reply.

"We lost Sam's soul for a whole year. But that's okay. I made a deal with Death to get it back."

Not even a twitch.

"We met your dad. He fell out of our closet. He brought a Knight of Hell with him, but we cut off her head. Then we sewed it back on, which brought her back to life, and I had to kill her with the First Blade, which I borrowed from Cain. He's a beekeeper. Also, Azazel's daughter took care of our angel for a while when he was insane with visions of Lucifer."

Nothing.

"Hey, Sam, have I ever told you the one where I brought an angel to a brothel? I swear he was more scared of the hookers than he was of the apocalypse we started."

Okay, this was getting him nowhere.

"See me!" he shouted, sounding a hell of a lot like some kind of cheap movie villain. What was happening to him?

"Sam, if you just look at me a little, I'll never complain about researching ever again." It was a lie, but hey, you couldn't blame him for it.

Sam didn't even glance at him.

To tell the truth, it was starting to make him feel a little desperate. He sat down beside Sam, his expression defeated. "Sammy . . ."

A shiver ran down his brother's spine. "Does it feel cold to you, Dad?"

John's dark eyes sharpened. "No, it doesn't. You feeling a chill, Sammy?"

"It's Sam," Dean and Sam said together, automatically.

John gave him a puzzled look. "I always call you Sammy."

"I, uh . . ." Sam trailed off, expression confused. "Yeah . . ."

"Dudes, are you telling me that you don't even remember me?"

"So can we leave soon?" Sam asked, changing the subject.

"Yeah, the doctor said you were free to go."

"You don't, do you," Dean said flatly. "You don't remember me."

Sam got off the bed and nodded to John. "I'm ready if you are."

"Let's go," his father said.

"You guys suck."

They never noticed when he slid into the backseat of their borrowed car. God, he hated sitting in the backseat. It was like Hell all over again, only worse, because his baby was once again messed up because some hellspawn demon (shut up, he didn't care if the two words were redundant) had decided to trash it with a hellspawn truck after just fighting a yellow-eyed hellspawn that had possessed his father and now they were going to have to kill all the other hellspawn again, too.

The world hated him.

After a moment, though Dean found that he could turn the radio on or off and play any song he wanted, even if there wasn't a tape that went with it.

Naturally, he played "Back in Black", all the while thanking God that he wasn't.

He'd heard what Crowley had said to him while he was busy being dead. Bastard. At least he didn't have to worry about the First Blade or Metatron or the Leviathans anymore.

Benny, though . . . he was still in Purgatory. Still fighting, still killing, all alone. Probably getting a bit desperate, too. He wouldn't call Dean 'Brother' or find out about his Andrea, wouldn't even know how he'd saved Dean from becoming something no one would have liked, least of all himself.

Cas may have pulled him from Perdition, but Benny was the one who pulled him from Purgatory.

And Cas was in Heaven. He didn't know about the angels and their plans for the Apocalypse. He didn't know how to be his own person yet.

Kevin . . . God, Kevin was alive somewhere, being an even worse geek than Sam, if that was even possible. Charlie was probably working under another false name, unaware of all the monsters in the darkness, paying for her mother to sleep on in her coma, continually reading The Hobbit to her and hoping . . . just hoping.

He had a chance to fix things, if someone could just see him.

He sighed deeply. There was nothing else he could do. Someone had to watch out for Sammy. Someone had to protect him. Someone had to be there, even when he wanted to be alone.

After all, that was what big brothers were for.

It was on a hunt a week later that Dean possessed a shapeshifter.

He hadn't meant to do it, but he'd known that the thing would come after Sam because there was no way it'd get the drop on John, and even though he knew that Sammy was one of the best hunters out there, it just seemed like everything was trying to break his brother apart and it was too much, too much too much toomuch to live with and they shouldn't have to live with it, no one was meant for this and so he stopped it.

Before he'd even taken over the shifter and basically extinguished its existence, it had shed its skin and become, well, Dean. It was an involuntary action, and Dean was damn glad he looked like himself. He didn't think he could take staring into a mirror and seeing some kind of midget or something (yes, thank you, Sam, 6'1" is not midget-sized).

Now he here he was, standing in front of his father and brother as they aimed their guns at him.

"Oh, come on," he complained. "Can't I ever catch a break? Look, guys, I don't want any trouble or anything."

"Tell that to four disappearances," John said.

"That wasn't me."

John snorted. "Right."

"No, seriously. It was the vengeful spirit you completely forgot about when you found me."

His father looked at him skeptically.

Dean sighed. "Look, I just want my brother back, okay? That's all I want." Also to maybe stop an apocalypse or two, but he didn't think mentioning that would win him any points.

"Shit. There's two of you?"

"No."

"Where is he?"

Dean paused, glanced away. "He died." It wasn't a lie. Sammy really had died. More than once.

He saw Sam twitch. "Hey, you okay there?"

"I'm fine," his brother said automatically.

"Dude, you're a terrible liar."

"I'm really not."

"Says you. Have you ever seen yourself lie?"

"Well, no-"

"Aha!"

"Hey, people believe me readily enough."

"Do they? Do they really?"

Sam frowned. "Of course they do."

"Are you sure?"

He rolled his eyes. "Don't be a jerk."

"Bitch."

Sam snorted.

John stared at them.

Whoops. Honestly, how do you forget that there's a gun aimed at you by your own father? Apparently, very easily.

There was something seriously wrong with him. Well, something more wrong than the obvious.

"Sam, we're leaving," John said without taking his eyes off Dean the Shifter.

"I'm coming with you," Dean said instantly.

"How about we kill you first?"

"Oh, hell, again? Do you have to?"

"What?"

"Dying," Dean said dolefully. "Major waste of time, if you ask me."

"Dying . . . is a waste of time," John echoed flatly.

He thought about it. ". . . yep. Can we just skip that part?"

"You're a shifter. You think I'm going to just let you leave?"

Dean met John's gaze steadily. "I'm not going to kill any human beings. I don't want to just leave, I want to come with you."

"Why?"

He couldn't stop himself from looking at Sam. His eyes softened when they fell on his brother, though he wasn't aware of it. "I'm not like all those other monsters you've met. I want to stop them, not join them."

"Why?" Sam repeated John's question.

"They're assholes?" he offered.

Neither of the hunters were amused.

"What? It's true."

"Look," Sam began, then paused.

"Dean."

"Dean, I just want to know why," his brother said sincerely.

"I just want to help you," he murmured. "I do. But Sam, I can't help you if you won't let me."

"You know my name?"

"Well, yeah." His lips quirked. "The famous Winchesters." His smile turned bitter. "Yeah, I know you. So do a lot of demons. And let me tell you, they want you bad, Sam." He nodded to John. "He's pretty popular down under, too."

Sam frowned. "What do they want us for?"

"Well . . . oh. Oh, shit." Dean felt his eyes widen slightly as, for the first time, he realized that either there wasn't going to be an apocalypse, the demons knew who he was, or there was a different Righteous Man somewhere in the world. Shit.

"What is it?" Sam asked, brows coming together with concern.

Dean turned to his father. "Listen, uh . . . John," he forced the name out, strange and unfamiliar on his tongue, "I don't want to alarm you or anything, but that demon you've been hunting? He's going to do a hell of a lot to get to Sam."

John's dark eyes hardened. "Well, he can't have him."

"You know that and I know that, but does he?"

"Why are you telling us this?" Sam asked. "You don't owe us anything."

"You remind me of my brother," he told him.

Sam seemed surprised. "I do?"

Dean gave him a lopsided smile that was slightly sad and a bit ironic and completely genuine. "Oh, yeah."

"Oh." Sam looked just a bit flustered. "You two were close?"

"I'd do anything for him," Dean admitted. "Anything."

They looked at each other for a moment.

"Let's move on," John interrupted. He looked at Dean. "You're coming with us. But if you try something . . ."

"You'll toss me like bad Chinese takeout, I know."

"Really, Dean? Did you have to put it like that?" Sam said, exasperated.

"Did I upset your delicate sensibilities, Sammy?"

"Why are we taking you with us, again?"

"'Cause I'm just that adorable."

"Adorable? No. Insufferable, on the other hand . . ."

Dean gave him a stupid grin. "You used a big word. I didn't understand it."

Sam's lips twitched. "You're unbelievable."

"I know," Dean said modestly.

John shook his head and walked out to the Impala.

Dean gestured to the door. "Gigantor."

Sam stepped out. "Midget."

"I'm six-one. That's not short, okay? You're just freakishly tall."

"Seriously? Wow. I could've sworn you were at least five-ten."

"Really not liking you right now."

Sam slid into passenger seat. "Please. You love me."

Dean snorted, getting into the car. "In your dreams."

But he did. Love him, that is.

And the only way he was finding that out was with an amazingly creative assortment of torture implements.

"We should stop by the diner on our way out of town," Sam suggested. "Maybe get some pie."

"You're my favorite person ever and I love you," Dean said instantly.

Or pie. Pie worked pretty well, too.

Next up: Sam and Dean find themselves in a hotel room, which they can't remember paying for or even walking into. Something strange is going on here, and they're going to find out what it is.

Weird Randomness!

0000

"I love you. I love you more than life itself. I love you like tricksters love to play tricks. I love you like hearts love to beat. I-"

"Stop talking to the pie, Dean."

"No. Mrs. Applepie and I are going to be together forever."

"Or for the next five minutes."

"You're just jealous."

"Of . . . what, exactly?"

"Our profound bond."

0000

Somewhere up in Heaven, Castiel felt inexplicably alone.

0000

Gabriel sneezed. The force blew out the brakes of a nearby car. Later, people would scream.

0000

Dean suddenly felt overwhelmingly guilty. Then he took a bite of his pie and he got better.

0000