Wish

Chapter Seventeen: Shut up and Go to the Motel

Young Sam and Dean's eyes widened.  Young Dean snatched his gun out of his waistband, quickly putting it to Dean's stomach.  Young Sam did the same to his older self.  But their older versions did nothing to defend themselves.

Gosh, this is really confusing to explain which Sam and which Dean I'm talking about.  I mean, I could number them, like Sam 1 and Sam 2, but you still have to think.  Let's see...

Oh, I got it!  The younger Sam and Dean are Moose and Squirrel.

"Are you shape-shifters?" Squirrel asked.  "You're a little off on our looks, by the way."  He pushed his pistol harder against Dean's abdomen.  "Silver bullets. Just so you know, I hate shape-shifters who wear my face, accurate or not.  What I want to know is why you look--"

"We need your help, Bieber," Dean interrupted with a smirk.

"Why would we help you?" Moose asked.

"Perhaps we could go somewhere less public?" Sam suggested.  "Like the motel room you were about to crash in."

Moose looked at Squirrel, then shrugged.

"Sam," said Squirrel. "You can't be serious.  They're shape-shifters.  The last one we came across got the cops on my ass!  We should blow their faces off and get back to the case."  Squirrel turned to face Sam and Dean.  "Unless...you two are involved with all of this."

"How about you all shut up and go to the motel?" I said.

They all suddenly looked at me, surprised.

"Who the hell is she?" Squirrel asked.

"Go to the damn motel and I'll tell you," I said.

After much convincing, we finally made our way to the motel.  Perhaps it would have been easier if we'd shown up after they'd made it to their room.  But, no, because if we'd let their minds meditate on the case long enough, then we'd be the ones helping them and not the other way around.  God, this was complicated.  I didn't even know if this would count.

Sam and Dean reluctantly wore hats and sunglasses (yes, at night) when we went into the motel, so the staff wouldn't freak out when they saw two of each person.

Once we finally made it to the room that Moose and Squirrel were staying in, the door was locked behind us, and then guns were once again pointed.

"Dude, seriously?" Sam said.

"All right, macho man," Dean said to his younger self.  "Listen."

Squirrel's brown furrowed.

"We are not shape-shifters," explained Dean.  "We are you."  He pointed at Squirrel's chest as he said this.

"Oh yeah?" Moose said, challenging him.  "And why would we believe that?"

"Fine," Dean said.  He reached for his knife.  "Silver knife."  He sliced his forearm with the blade.  "See?  Not a shape-shifter."

Squirrel's gun lowered slightly.

"Try the salt and the holy water too, if you'd like, but we are you."

"But it doesn't make any sense," said Moose.

"We're from the future. From 2015. We need your help," Sam said.

"Time travel?  Really?" Squirrel was unconvinced.  "How is that even possible?"

"I brought them here with me," I said.

"And who are you, again?" Squirrel asked.  "What are you?  And give me a good reason why I shouldn't kill you."

Sam, Dean, and I exchanged glances.