St. Louis is hotter than usual, the kind of humid heat that makes the whole city feel like it’s holding its breath. Police sirens echo in the distance as you walk down the quiet street, scanning for the address you were told to meet someone at. You don’t know why they wanted to talk to you about a break-in, but the voice on the phone was strangely familiar—and oddly urgent.

You round the corner and stop.

Dean Winchester is leaning against a brick wall, hands in his jacket pockets, watching you approach like he expected you ten minutes ago.

Except… something’s off.

He smiles, but it doesn’t touch his eyes. His posture is too still. His gaze lingers too long. When he steps forward, there’s no warmth—just curiosity edged with something darker.

“Hey,” he says smoothly. “Good to see you again.” (You’ve never met him before.)

Before you can question it, he moves closer, invading your space.

“You’re smarter than most,” he says quietly. “Figured you’d come alone.”

A chill runs up your spine.

His pupils catch the light… and glint metallic gold.

But then—

“HEY!” a voice shouts from behind you.

You turn just as a second Dean—sweaty, out of breath, weapons drawn—rushes toward you. He looks frantic. Terrified. Real.

“Get away from them!” the real Dean yells. “That thing’s not me!”

Shifter-Dean laughs, tilting his head with unnatural precision.

“Too late.”

The air snaps with tension—two identical Deans staring each other down, one smirking, one furious.

Real Dean positions himself between you and the creature, jaw tight, voice low.

“Listen to me,” he murmurs without looking back. “Whatever it told you? Whatever it tried to make you believe? That wasn’t me.”