Chapter Sixty: Reverse Swap

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     Dean concocted a plan, if the imposter Sam decided to come back we'll be ready

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     Dean concocted a plan, if the imposter Sam decided to come back we'll be ready. I laid in the motel bed, pretending to be Dean, as it was always him they would be after. Dean was hiding in the darkness, ready to pounce when 'Sam' came back.

I could hear the door to the motel creak open, and footsteps entered through the room. Dean also placed a perfect weapon in sight, if it was the case they were here to kill him. I hear Sam pick up the gun, and then cock it. Then silence. For like a moment, before the next thing I hear is Dean's fist connected with Sam's face, making him groan in pain.

"You're not Sam," I threw the covers back, and stood to my feet. "Who the hell are you?!" Dean's teeth grit together, as he was controlling himself. He didn't want to hurt his brother. The grip Dean had on Sam's jacket was strong, and tight.

"Ow," clearly that hurt for him. I flourished my hand up, and the lights in the room came to life, lightening it up for us all to see.

"The gigs up kid," I swayed my way around, as Dean kept a tight grip on him. "Now, tell us who you are. Or I'll rip it from your skull," a smirk danced across my lips, as I blinked, my black eyes replaced my soft brown hums. He jumps out of his skin slightly, and holds back a scream.

"I don't want to die, I don't want to die," he rushes out, like he was going to break out into a crying fit. I blinked, my eyes returning back to normal. "Please, don't kill me!" He begged, and now this was clearly not Sam. I swirled my hand around, and a chair from nearby shot out, and slid across the room, coming behind the imposter.

"Tie him up," Dean announces, pushing Sam onto the chair, and he accepts his fate. With a single click of my thumb and index finger, rope appeared out of the black smoke, wrapping around his waist and his hands were forced behind the chair, and also tied. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Dean on the phone, probably checking his voicemails.

I crossed my arms over my chest, as they rested on my leather jacket. I stared at Sam, but he looked away, anywhere but my eyes. Dean finished hearing the messages on the phone. He placed it back on the receiver, and came on over.

"All right, pal. Either you start talking or we start waterboarding," Dean came back to stand in front of the imposter, and he was to my right.

"Oh, my God. Please, don't hurt me. Please! I'm sorry! I'm so, so sorry!" Sam had tears running down his cheeks, and pleaded so much. I thought he was going to wet himself.

"Ok. Hey, pull it together, champ," Dean leans over, and slams his hand upon his shoulder.

"I don't want to die. I don't want to die," he repeated the words a few moments ago, really wanting to live.

"You won't, if you tell us where Sam is," I narrowed my eyes, he briefly locked his gaze with me.

"In my – my friend's basement. His parents are out of town," he announces.

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