Disclaimer: I don't have any claim on these characters. This is just for fun!

Future Blast

"Dad!" A woman in her thirties with dark blonde hair whipped around. She held a shotgun loaded with rock salt as she ran through the abandoned warehouse toward an older man kneeling on the ground. "Dad?"

He looked up at her, a hand on his chest, gasping for breath. "Rae? Where is it? I can feel it." He dropped to the ground, holding himself up with his free hand.

She reached down but could not pull him up. "DJ?" She looked around.

"Over here," a man only a few years younger than she walked up.

"Get Dad up. It's here." Her eyes scanned the warehouse filled with rusted machinery, looking for any sign of the reason they were there.

"Looking for something?" A dark voice came from behind her.

She spun around, firing into the dark form a few away. Like a dark mist, it whirled away to reform into the shape of a man. She reached into a pocket to produce an amulet. She chanted special words in a language that was at once unknown and yet familiar. The two men came up behind her and took up the chant, holding out identical amulets. The amulets glowed in the dark, shedding light on the mysterious figure.

"We know what you are," the older man said with a sneer. "And I'm a little sick of the way you've been messing with my family." He looked at the woman. "Finish it."

Her voice grew louder, more intense. She dropped the shotgun to reach inside her jacket. Her hand emerged with an ancient cross that predated Christianity. She held it out as her chant took on a sing-song sound.

The dark figure held out its arms and a counter-chant emanated from it. The air in front of it shimmered. A dark oval grew out of the shimmering air. The glow from the amulets waned though their chanting became louder, more intense. The dark figure walked into the dark, shimmering oval.

"Now!" The older man shouted and the three raced for the oval. They fell through it before it could disappear.

When they looked around, the warehouse no longer appeared to be abandoned. There was fresh paint on the walls and the machines were well oiled and greased, as if they had been used recently.

"Did it work?" The younger man, DJ, asked.

"I sure hope so," the older man said, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet. "Rae? How's it look?"

She handed her father his glasses. "These might help. Looks like we're at least back when this plant was in operation."

"Twenty years?" DJ asked.

The older man slipped on his glasses. "At least. Those machines look pretty well used, but not that old. This factory opened over forty years ago."

"Excellent!" DJ grinned.

"Who is in favor of getting out of here before we're spotted by security?" Rae headed toward the door.

"Better listen to your sister. She is older." The old man winked at DJ as he followed Rae out. DJ sighed and shook his head as he covered their exit.

Outside, they discovered a car parked on the street next to the factory warehouse. "Do it," Rae whispered to DJ. "I'll cover you."

"Great," he mumbled. He examined the car door before shaking his head. "Dad, this one is all yours. Too old for me."

"Wimp." The father shouldered his son out of the way. He gave the car a cursory glance. "Easy." He looked around as he slipped a slim-jim out of his jacket. He slid it down the glass. Within a moment the car was unlocked. "Get in."

The two grown children piled into the car as their father reached under the dash to hot-wire it. The engine sputtered to life. He pulled away from the curb slowly, not wanting to attract undue attention.

"Think we'll see your old car, Dad?" DJ asked from the back. Rae shot him a dirty look from the front seat.

"Hopefully. That'll mean we're far enough back." Their father looked unfazed by the question, though both his kids knew how he felt about that car.

Rae waited about twenty minutes before clearing her throat, a signal to her brother. In unison they asked, "Are we there yet?"

Their father groaned, his eyes never leaving the road. "Remind me, why did I bring you two?"

"We had a choice?" DJ asked, mocking surprise.

"We were asked?" Rae looked at her brother in the same way.

Their father ignored them. "I think that's it up ahead. We'll be able to at least find out the exact date and maybe even learn where they are."

He pulled up at the Roadhouse pub and grill.

"Looks the same," Rae commented.

"Exactly the same. Don't they believe in paint?" DJ asked.

"Shut up. Get out. Watch your mouths."

"Yes, sir," Rae and DJ replied in unison. They flanked their father as he entered the Roadhouse. He walked across the length of the bar, making sure of being seen, to take a table on the far wall. His ballcap was pulled down low and his jacket collar was turned up, hiding as much of his face as possible. His kids were bare-headed and made no pretense of checking out the people they spotted as hunters.

"Dean?" One of the hunters in the bar followed them to their table. "Is now a good time to show me that trick?" His eyes were on DJ.

"Huh?" DJ was taken aback.

"You said you'd show me that trick. You know, the one where you," the hunter made a jabbing motion backwards with his elbow.

The old man chuckled, pulling his cap lower. He crossed his arms over his chest as he watched his son with amusement.

"Um, no. Not right now. Maybe later," DJ looked to his family for help, but his father seemed to be enjoying his discomfort while his sister looked as though she could barely contain her laughter.

"Oh. Okay. Uh, let me know, okay, Dean?" The hunter backed away, looking a little embarrassed.

"He called me Dean," DJ hissed.

Rae could not contain herself any longer. "Mom always said you were a clone!" She laughed. DJ blushed.

The mention of their mother was enough to strip all mirth from their father's face. "We have work to do," he snapped. "Keep your mind on the target."

"Yes, sir," his children answered in unison. Rae avoided looking him in the eye.

He sighed heavily. His hand reached out to grip his daughter's arm. She looked at him. His eyes were wet but he was not crying. She gave him a small smile. "Yeah, me too, Dad." She patted his hand.

A woman approached their table. "What can I get cha?"

"Two beers and a water, Ellen," their father ordered.

"Make that three beers," Rae interjected.

He shot her a look. "But your doctor said…"

"One beer won't hurt anything, Dad."

Ellen watched the interchange with detached interest, until her gaze fell on DJ. She brightened. "Dean? Aren't you going to introduce me to your friends?"

DJ blushed again. "I'm sorry. My name is DJ. This is my sister, Rae, and my dad." He looked like he was going to say more, but he did not.

"Oh." Ellen looked confused. "Sorry, my mistake." Her brow furrowed as she pushed her hair back. "Three beers?" she asked the older man.

"Yeah," he replied, giving Rae a hard look. He waited until Ellen left to fill their order. "Just one?"

"Okay, Dad," she sighed.

DJ was checking the place out with interest. "I guess Ellen doesn't care for change, huh? Is that the same dartboard?" He moved to stand.

"Stay here," his father hissed. "Apparently you do look too much like him."

DJ rolled his eyes, but he sat. The front door opened again and two men walked in. DJ caught his breath, staring at the newcomers.

"There's Lenny," one of the men said. "Grab us a table and a couple of beers. I'll be back in a few." The other man nodded.

"Lenny, you ready for that lesson?" He approached the hunter who had spoken to DJ a few minutes ago.

The hunter stood. "You didn't have to change clothes for it," he laughed.

The man looked down at his outfit. "huh?"

Lenny, the hunter, headed for the door. He held it open. "Well come on, Dean, before you change your mind again."

The man shot his partner a questioning look. The other man laughed as he shrugged. The one called Dean left with Lenny, but he no longer looked happy about it.

"Now's my chance. Sam is alone." Their father stood. "You two stay here."

They exchanged a look but obeyed their father's wish. Even when Ellen delivered the beers, their eyes never left their father.

"Nine dollars," Ellen said.

DJ pulled out a crisp bill. He handed it to Ellen saying, "Here, keep the change."

Ellen looked over the bill covered with reflective holograms. "Uh, is this a joke? Because if it is…"

Rae snatched the bill away. She rummaged in her pockets until she found a rumpled bill. "Sorry about that," she said as she held out the green bill. She waited until Ellen was out of earshot before slamming a fist into DJ's shoulder. "Wrong year," she hissed.

"Oh, right," DJ frowned at the bill in his hand.

An old man approached Sam's table. "Excuse me," a rough voice said, "do you mind?" he took a seat opposite Sam.

"Um, actually, I'm waiting for my brother." Sam indicated that his brother was outside.

"That's fine. I wanted to talk to you, Sammy." The old man smiled at him.

Sam's face went rigid. "It's Sam, not Sammy. Nobody calls me Sammy."

"Nobody except your brother, Dean. Right?" The old man pushed his ball cap further back on his head.

Sam started to reply, but stopped when he got a good look at the old man. "Who are you?" He sounded scared and looked angry.

"It's me, Sammy. Dean. Your brother."

The charismatic smile Sam had come to associate with his brother flashed across the old man's face. Sam shook his head in disbelief. "That is impossible. Besides, Dean doesn't wear glasses."

"I'm old, dude. Go ahead, ask me anything, Sam. About Dad, Mom, clowns. Anything."

Sam's eyes drifted across the bar, as though he were searching for help. His gaze landed on two people watching them from a table on the far side of the room. "Who are they?"

The old man half turned in his seat. "Oh, don't worry about them. They're with me."

Sam sighed. "Okay, not that I'm buying one word of this, but what do you want, Old Dean?" He sipped on his beer.

"I wanted to ask you why you're going to do it. Why are you going to leave?" The old man leaned on the table, anxious to hear the answer.

"Leave? The Roadhouse?" Sam asked, clearly confused.

"No." The old man's voice dropped to a whisper. "Me."

Sam shook his head. "No idea what you're talking about."

His fist hit the table, sloshing Sam's beer. "Damn it, Sam!" He shook his head and took a deep breath. "I just want to know what I did. How I drove you away."

Sam glared at the old man. "I still have no idea…" his voice trailed off. He was staring over the old man's shoulder. "Dean? Did you change clothes?"

"Dad?" DJ ignored Sam's question. "Everything okay?"

The old man clenched his jaw. "Didn't I tell you to stay at the table?"

DJ glared at Sam, who noticed the soft brown eyes for the first time. "You're not Dean," Sam accused, pointing a finger.

"No kidding," DJ said, turning away. He went back to their table.

"He looks just like Dean," Sam's eyes were glued to DJ's back.

"His mother," the old man's voice broke, attracting Sam's attention. He cleared his throat. "His mother used to call him a clone."

"Used to?" Sam's voice was gentler now. "What happened to her?" His face reflected the pain in his life.

The old man stared at his hands. "Cancer," the word was hardly more than a breath.

"I'm sorry," Sam's sympathy seemed genuine.

The older version of his brother, who bore a striking resemblance to their father, just nodded. He cleared his throat again. "So you're not planning to leave yet?"

"I'm telling you, I don't know what you're talking about," Sam insisted. "I'm not planning on going anywhere without Dean before we've finished taking care of some family business."

Old Dean nodded. "If you say so, Sammy. I should get back to the kids." He pushed away from the table. The front door opened and the Dean who belonged in this time came in with Lenny.

"Thanks, Dean. That should come in handy." Lenny waved as he made his way to the bar.

"You better believe it," Dean called, heading toward Sam. He sat at the table and grabbed his waiting beer. "That guy is hopeless," he whispered to Sam. "I can't believe he's lived this long."

"Dean? You see the old guy at that table?" Sam pointed it out.

"Yeah? What about him?" Dean took another swig of his beer.

"Do any of them seem familiar, at all, to you?"

Dean shot his brother a look, but Sam seemed serious. He stared at them for a moment. "Well, the girl is kinda cute, but way too old. The old guy's back is to me, so I can't tell. And the other guy does look a little familiar."

"A little familiar? Dean, he looks exactly like you. Except he has brown eyes." Sam was staring intently at Dean.

Dean squirmed in his chair. He shrugged. "Distant relatives? Should we go talk to them? Find out?"

"The old guy was just here, talking to me," Sam admitted.

"Yeah? And?" Dean seemed more interested than Sam expected.

"And he said he was you." Sam grimaced.

"Uh-huh." Dean took another swig of beer as he leaned back. "Me as in - Me?"

"Yeah, Dean," Sam's eyebrows drew together. "What do you think it means?"

Dean shrugged again. "That you're a sucker?"

Sam leaned close. "He knew about the clowns, Dean."

"Probably heard about that Rakshasa we took down. That's all. Doesn't mean anything." Dean sipped his beer.

"Doesn't mean anything? Dean," Sam focused on his brother. "I'm telling you, there is definitely something weird going on." A thought occurred to Sam. "Dean, are you afraid I'm going to leave?"

Dean was startled. "What? What are you talking about?" He snorted at his beer.

"Well, I'm not," Sam declared.

Dean's eyebrows lifted. "Okay, little brother. Want another beer?" Dean stood, his eyes on the bar.

Sam grinned at his brother's discomfort. That was obviously one of his fears. "Yeah, I could use another."

Sam looked across at the table. As he watched, the old man grew a few inches taller and wider. His clothes melted into a different colored shirt and pants. Sam shifted his gaze to the woman. She looked basically the same but her clothes had changed as well. He looked at the younger man. The younger man was gone, replaced with another man who still looked oddly familiar. Sam's jaw dropped.

Dean returned with their beers. "What?" He turned to look at that far table. "Hey, I didn't notice that before. That guy doesn't look like me, he looks like you." Dean straddled his chair, sipping his fresh beer. "Sam?"

"Excuse me," Sam stood, leaving Dean sitting alone, and made his way across the bar. He pulled up a chair. Dean carried his beer over to stand behind his brother.

"What's going on?" Sam asked the older man, who did not look quite so much like his father now. The older man was exchanging a water for the beer set in front of the woman.

The older man eyed Sam and Dean shrewdly. "Maybe we should go somewhere private to talk."

"Guys! Guys!" Ash ran out from his back room, holding a home-built laptop that was beeping erratically. "We got it!"

Dean and Sam rushed over to Ash. The old man and his two grown children followed at a more leisurely pace. Ash set his laptop down on the bar, pointing excitedly to the flashing window displayed.

"The demon?" Dean asked, leaning close enough to the laptop to touch it, but never actually making physical contact.

"What else?" Ash flipped his hair back. "Am I good, or am I good?"

The old man peered over Dean's shoulder. "Did you get a line on a second one?"

"What?" Ash seemed to notice the extra three people for the first time. "Who are these guys? Relatives of yours?" he asked Dean.

Dean shot them a glare over his shoulder. "Distant relatives."

"About 40 years distant," the woman mumbled.

The old man gave her a shove, which was not lost on Sam.

"Ash?" Dean waved a hand in front of his face. "Is there a second one?"

"Oh, uh, hang on a sec." Ash typed on the keyboard. "Well, what do you know. Weird."

"What? What is it, Ash?" Sam crowded in closer.

"There is a second one. It fits all the same patterns as the first one. Here, see for yourself." He spun the laptop around for Sam to see.

Sam turned on the old man. "You knew," he accused.

"Like I said, we should go somewhere private to talk."

Dean looked between his brother and the old man who reminded him strongly of someone. "Does anyone want to let me in on this?"

The old man clasped a hand on Dean's shoulder. "Sure. At the hotel. And then I'll explain why there are two yellow eyed demons instead of one."

Both Sam and Dean's eyes widened. "Two?"

Dean sat on the edge of the bed, fiddling with his hunting knife. "So you're saying that there are two: one demon from the future and the one from right now. This is messed up." He shook his head.

The woman chuckled.

"What's so funny?" Dean demanded.

She shook her head. "It's not messed up. Fubared, maybe. Not just messed up."

"Who are you again?" Dean asked.

The old man answered for her. "This is my daughter, Jessie. And that's my son."

Dean faced the other man, the one who looked so much like his brother. "And your name is?"

"Dean."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Oh, just shoot me now."

Sam shook his head. "Why would I name my son Dean? And where is Dean, anyway? I was just talking to him in the bar."

"You were?" The old man was surprised. "But that's impossible."

Sam looked at the three travelers. "Didn't he come back with you?"

Old Sam shook his head.

"Why not?" Dean demanded. When no one answered he sighed heavily, slamming his knife back in its sheath. "How long?"

Sam turned to his brother. "How long what?"

Dean kept his focus on the older version of Sam. "How long have I been dead?"

His brother leapt to his feet. "What? No." He looked desperately to the older version of himself for confirmation.

"For a long time, now," old man Sam said, his face downcast.

"Well, that's just great. What was it? The demon? Werewolf? Vampire?" Dean stood, glowering at Old Sam.

"Car wreck," Old Sam replied.

Dean closed his eyes. "Just tell me it wasn't in…"

"It was."

"Damn it!" Dean threw his sheathed knife against the wall. It bounced off, taking a chunk of wallboard with it. Dust from the impact settled across old Sam's head.

"Hey!" Jessie jumped up. She stood about a head shorter than Dean. "Watch it, pal!"

"Jessie," her brother Dean caught hold of her arm, "do your exercises."

She closed her eyes and recited, "Sofa. Chair. Coffee Table. Lamp. Wall." Her eyes flew open. "And if you ever throw anything near my father again, I'll knock your head off."

Her brother Dean stood between her and the object of her anger. "Well, there goes ten years of anger management courses."

Her eyes locked with her brother's. "Move or be moved."

Dean laughed. "Well, at least I like one of your kids, Sammy."

Sam shook his head. "That one isn't mine. His." Sam paused, confusion raging across his face. "Whatever."

It was Old Sam's turn to be surprised. "How could you know that?"

"Because she was with Old Dean in the bar," Sam said to his older self. "She's his, isn't she?"

"No, she isn't!" Dean shouted. "Because I am never having kids! Not if I go off and get myself killed." He turned to his brother. "I'll never stick you with that kind of responsibility before you're ready for it."

Jessie faded until her brother could see right through her. "Uh, guys?" he said, trying to grab her. His hands passed through her.

"What makes you think I wouldn't be ready for it?" Sam stood up to Dean.

"Because nobody is ready for somebody to die and leave them a baby to take care of, that's why!" Dean screamed at him.

Sam stood back. The other Dean, who looked so much like Sam, was staring at the empty spot Jessie was in earlier.

"Dean, what's wrong?" Old Sam asked.

The Dean who looked like Sam turned to his father. "What? Nothing."

"Where's Jessie?" Sam asked.

"Who?" Old Sam asked.

Dean held up his hands. "That's it. Enough. This is too weird, even for me." He left the hotel room, slamming the door behind him.

"Dean!" Sam jumped up to go after his brother.

"Wait!" Old Sam blocked the path of his younger self. "We still have a lot to discuss."

Sam shoved his older self to the side. "Don't! That's my brother, and I'm going after him." He pointed a finger in the aged face. "Nobody, not even me, can stop me." He paused, the illogic of the statement bothering him. Shaking his head Sam left, again slamming the door.

Old Sam turned to look at Old Dean. "Well, that went well."

Old Dean shrugged. "Typical Sam."

Sam caught up with his brother at the car. "No! Dean, wait!" He grabbed Dean by the shoulder.

Dean stopped, giving his brother an incredulous look. "You out of breath? Dude, you need to start working out more."

Sam paused. "Funny. Real funny." He tried to catch his breath. "You can't just leave like that."

"Why not? It's my dream." Dean glared at him.

"Dream? Dude, this is not a dream."

"Yeah?" Dean waited, but Sam did not continue. His arms crossed his chest as he leaned back against the car. "So what is it?"

Sam was flustered. He ran a hand through his hair. "Well, I'm not really sure. I never thought time travel was possible, but apparently demons can bend time."

Dean's expression did not change. "Uh-huh." He made a circular motion with his hand. "Keep going."

"Well," Sam glanced around, as though an idea were lurking in the shadows, "let's just go back and hear what they have to say."

"About me being dead."

"Dean, you're not dead," Sam's expression left no room to argue.

Dean stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Fine. Lead the way." He sauntered along behind Sam. As Sam reached for the doorknob he said, "But if they start talking about my baby being in a wreck…"

Sam rolled his eyes as he opened the door.

Old Dean stood just inside the door. "What about the car? What's wrong?" He rushed outside. When he saw it parked safely within sight, he took a deep breath of relief and followed the others back inside.

Sam stopped short inside the hotel room. Dean ran into him. "Dude!"

"Where are the others?" Sam demanded.

"What others?" Old Sam asked as his brother came back inside, smiling.

Sam and Dean exchanged a look. "Bar," they said in unison.

"Works for me," Old Dean headed back out the door. Old Sam rolled his eyes as he stood to follow his brother and their younger selves.

The Impala pulled up outside the Roadhouse with its four passengers, two young men and two older men who were obviously related. With nearly identical walks, except the shorter of the older men had a limp, they headed inside the Roadhouse.

"So where are your kids?" Sam asked his older self.

"Kids?" he laughed. "Nope, no kids. This life is too dangerous for a family."

Sam stopped, shocked. He grabbed his brother's sleeve as he passed. "Dean," he whispered, "why don't we have kids anymore?"

Dean's eyebrows arched and his green eyes widened. "What are you talking about, Sammy?" he hissed. He waved a hand in the air. "We're talking to ourselves, from the future, who brought a second yellow-eyed demon with them, there are people appearing and disappearing constantly, and you're worried about whether or not we have KIDS?" His face was flushed and his voice soft. "Have you lost your mind? Because I'm pretty sure I have!" He pushed off Sam's hand. "I really need that beer."

Sam paused in the parking lot before heading inside the Roadhouse. He deliberated on whether or not it really would be dangerous to have children. The stars in the night sky winked at his deep thoughts. Long after he and Dean and anyone they knew or would know were gone, those stars would still be up there in the sky, winking at such minor terrestrial concerns. He felt tiny and insignificant under their light.

"Dude!" Dean shouted at him from the doorway. "Beer? Come on, get in here before I have to take out that old dude who's supposed to be me." Sam did not move, he still stood staring up at the sky.

"Sammy?" Dean moved to stand next to him. "You okay? Not having one of those visions, are you?"

Sam looked down into eyes full of concern. "I think you'd be a good dad."

"And you would be a great tooth fairy. Can we get that beer now? Sam?" Dean slapped him on the shoulder before heading back. He paused at the door to look over his shoulder. "You comin'?"

Sam had a strange look on his face. "How dangerous do you think it would be for us, either of us, to have a family? I mean, after what happened to Jess..."

Dean's face hardened. "Once we've destroyed that demon, you won't have anything to worry about." He inclined his head toward the door. "Can we get that beer now?"

Sam did not move. "And if we don't destroy the demon? What then?" Sam faced his brother. "We wind up two lonely old men living together? Dude. People will talk."

Dean's head dropped and he shook it. "Sammy, all I want is a beer." He lifted his head to look at his brother. "Can we please solve all our problems later? After we deal with twin demons? And a beer?"

Sam took a deep breath and nodded. Dean held the door open for him. "Thank you," he breathed with relief.

He followed Sam inside, but Sam stopped just before the bar. "Now I'm really confused."

"Now?" Dean looked at him incredulously. "You mean you weren't before…" his voice trailed off. He was staring at the table just past the far end of the bar. "Oh man, this has got to stop." His hand scrubbed his tired face.

There were five people seated at the table now; Old Sam, Old Dean, a Sam clone, a Dean clone, and the woman from before who had Dean's eyes. Old Dean waved to them, pointing at two empty chairs and two full beers. With heavy steps, Dean and Sam crossed to the table to sit.

"Dude, I don't know about this," Dean whispered to his brother when they reached their chairs.

"Dudes!" Ash's voice rang through the bar. He raced over. "What are you doing here? I thought you'd be, you know," he nodded toward the door.

"We are," Dean assured him. "We just need to have a game plan first. Don't worry about it." He slapped Ash on the back as he sat.

"Uh, okay." Ash backed away, confused. "Hey, that dude looks like your dad. Some kind of relative?" Sam looked like he was about to answer, but Dean waved Ash away.

Old Dean chuckled. "Always did like that guy."

"And why was that, again?" Old Sam asked from over the top of his beer bottle.

"Yeah," Sam chimed in, "why is that?"

Old Dean raised his eyebrows at his younger self. Dean shook his head. "Okay, it looks like I need to update my scorecard again." He waved his hand around the table. "Names?"

Old Sam pointed to each grown kid as he named them, "DJ, John, and Rae."

Dean looked at the woman. "You're Rae? Not Jessie?"

She frowned at him. "No, not Jessie. Where did you get that from?"

He shrugged and picked up his beer. Sam and Dean exchanged a look.

"Okay, about the two yellow-eyed demons," Dean's voice dropped and he leaned forward on the table. "Any ideas?"

Old Dean also leaned forward. "Just one."

"Yeah?" Sam was leaning in now too.

Old Dean glanced around, making sure no one was listening in. He motioned to the younger versions of himself and his brother to move in closer. They strained to get as close as possible. His voice was barely a whisper. "We kill them."

Dean sat back, glaring at his older self. "Gee, that helps." He stood. "C'mon, Sam. Let's go. We have work to do."

Old Dean held up both hands, grinning. "Just kidding. We have an idea. Sit down."

Dean stood between DJ and Rae. He checked his clips for the twentieth time. "Relax," DJ whispered, his eyes scanning the area.

Dean fixed DJ with a hard stare. "Excuse me?"

"You seem nervous," DJ was surprised by Dean's response. "You're more likely to make mistakes when you're nervous. You should try to relax."

"Oh? Is that so?" Dean popped his clip in again. He stuck it in its holster as he continued to glare at DJ.

Rae sighed. "Here we go."

"What?" Dean's glare shifted to her. "What's that supposed to mean?"

DJ shook his head. "Nothing." He pulled out a slick, futuristic EMF to scan the warehouse they were in. He walked away, scanning the area.

Dean motioned to Rae. "What did that mean?"

Rae shrugged, the movement looking distinctly familiar. Dean caught her shoulder roughly. At the warning look that crossed her face Dean relaxed his grip. "What did you mean? Please?"

Rae glanced around. They were alone. "Dad and DJ tend to, uh, disagree sometimes. That's all."

Dean frowned. "Sometimes? Or pretty much all the time?"

She sighed, shaking her head. "It used to be just sometimes. But since Mom," she paused. Her warm green eyes, the same eyes Dean saw in the mirror every morning, were moist when they met his. "It's almost like Dad blames DJ."

Dean dropped his voice. "Should he?"

"No!" Rae took a step back, shaking off his touch. "It's no one's fault!"

"Alright, alright," Dean held up both hands. "Just asking."

"Don't," she snarled.

They heard the sound of running footsteps. Dean pulled his gun out as Rae raised her shotgun. DJ ran in, the slick EMF still clutched in one hand and a gun in the other. Dean yanked Rae behind a pillar. She wriggled in his clutches, whispering "Let go. I know what I'm doing!"

"Shh!" He hissed at her. Dean pulled a second gun. "I sure hope your old man knows what he's doing."

"He's the best," she retorted, peering around the pillar.

"Yeah, that's what I used to say," Dean muttered under his breath.

"What?" She whispered. Dean shook his head, using one of his guns to point at a spot near the ceiling.

Black demon smoke swirled into the room, curling through doorways and sweeping across the ceiling. Dean looked across the warehouse. Sam motioned from where he, Old Dean and Old Sam were hiding. Dean waved back, hoping this would work.

The smoke solidified into two dark shapes with glowing yellow eyes. Rae motioned to DJ. He approached them from behind, firing silver bullets through the dark forms. Dean ducked as one of the bullets punctured the beam near his ear.

"Son of bitch!"

The sound of Dean's voice attracted the demons' attention. Unfaltered by the hail of silver bullets, the twin demons advanced on Dean's position. Dean shoved Rae behind him, looking for a place to shelter them from the demon. He spotted a likely niche and reached behind him for Rae. His hand passed through empty air. His heart skipped a beat when he spun around and found the space behind him empty.

"Sammie Rae! NO!" DJ's voice echoed through the room.

Dean's head whipped around to look at DJ. DJ was staring up. Dean swallowed hard before following DJ's stare. There was Rae, pinned to the ceiling, her face a mask of silent pain. Dean knew that pain all too well. With a roar of rage, he charged the demons.

"No!" Sam's voice followed him, ringing in his ears as he felt himself being lifted up.

Sam looked beside him. Old Dean was no longer there. Old Sam had a pained look on his face.

"This can't work," he told Sam. "It was foolish, but we had to try." Sam moved to race to his brother, but Old Sam had a vice-like grip on his arm. "No, wait. I have something very important to tell you." He pulled Sam close and whispered in his ear.

Sam tried to pull away until he realized the importance of what he was hearing. As he concentrated on what his older self was saying, the scene in front of him vanished. The space around him swirled until he was dizzy. Sam shut his eyes against it and the ground under him bucked and swayed as though he were standing on a ship. He reached out to grab something, to steady himself. The voice in his ear faded into white noise. His hand touched something solid so he clutched it like a drowning man gripping a life preserver.

"Sammy?" Dean's voice cut through the white noise. "Sammy, what's wrong?"

Sam felt a hand shaking his shoulder. He forced his eyes open. There was a blurry shape hovering over him. "Dean?" he asked weakly.

"Yeah, it's me. Can you stand?"

Sam nodded, though his head thundered with pain. "I think so."

Dean helped him to his feet.

"Where are we?"

"In the parking lot of the Roadhouse. What happened?" Dean supported his brother back to the car.

"Aren't we going inside?" Sam asked as Dean steered him around the Impala.

"Not with you like this," Dean snapped. "Get in."

"Dean, something weird just happened." Sam focused on getting in the car. Dean closed the door once he was in.

Dean jumped into the driver's seat, slamming his door. "No kidding." Dean drove out of the parking lot. "How're you feeling?"

Sam cradled his head in his hands. "I don't know. Confused. But I think I know how to kill the demon." He felt the car swerve off the road.

"What? How?" Dean stared at him intently. "Why haven't you said something before?"

Sam shook his head, his vision clearing. "Because I never told myself before." He chuckled. "Dean? When you have kids, are you going to name one after me?"

Dean grimaced as he pulled back on the road. "Only if it's a girl," he snapped. "Now, tell me about killing the demon."

"What do you mean, only if it's a girl? Dean, do you remember it?"

"Remember what? Come on, Sammy. You're the only one around here with visions." Dean drove in silence for a while. "What do you think DJ might stand for?"

"Dean Junior," Sam replied without hesitation.

Dean shuddered. "I was afraid of that."

"So you do remember?" Sam persisted.

"Remember what? Some funky dream?" Dean avoided looking at Sam by concentrating on the road.

"Dream, Dean? Both of us? The same dream?" Sam was incredulous.

Dean growled under his breath. "Well, if it wasn't a dream, what was it?"

"I think it was a way of sending a message back from the future. About how to kill the demon."

Dean nodded. "If you say so, Sam. So what's the message?"

Sam grinned, his head clear now. "I think we can do it, Dean. I really do. I know where it's going to be, when, and what we need to do." He was looking at his brother.

"So tell me," Dean said.

Sam grinned ear to ear. "So, do you name her Sammie because she's a girl or because you want to name your first-born after me?"

"Probably because I expect her to be a pain in my ass, just like you! The demon, Sam!" Dean shot him a strong look.

Sam stretched out in the seat. "Actually, Dean, we have some time, for a change." He grinned at the passing landscape out the window, feeling confident for the first time since Dean picked him up from college. "We can do this. I know it."