Witch hunts were the worst. Any other kind of supernatural creature might be somewhat of a pain, but witches take the cake for the absolute worst. No matter how prepared you were, witches were not something to be easily taken down. They always had dozens of spells and hexes under their sleeves. It was never easy.

This hunt was no different. You and Sam had spent days working on research and learning everything that you possibly could about the witch you two were hunting. It was tedious work. However, it hadn't been as difficult as usual. It was almost too easy.

You ignored the feeling in your gut that told you something was wrong as Sam unlocked the motel room. Exhaustion made your body feel heavy. Every step made your sore body ache. Hours spent hunched over one of the library's computers hadn't done you any good.

"We can finish the research in the morning," Sam said with a yawn. Everything was almost done. Now, the two of you just needed to formulate a plan.

"Sounds great," you agreed.

For some reason, you couldn't remember anything else that happened that night. Your mind was fuzzy, clearly disoriented. Upon waking up, you noticed that your legs hung off the end of the bed. Sitting up with a frown, you bumped into the headboard.

Looking down at your legs, you realized they were definitely not your legs. They were far too long. You looked over at Sam, only to see your body sleeping in the bed next to you. Rushing to the mirror in the bathroom, your worst nightmare was confirmed. You weren't you any more. And Sam was no longer.

God, you really hated witch hunts.

"What the hell!" Sam exclaimed as he joined you next to the mirror. "So. . . You're me? And I'm you?" He said, even though his voice was lighter since it was actaully your voice.