Trippy would be an understatement to the current situation, though still not the weirdest thing I had experienced during my time hunting and definitely not the weirdest with the Winchesters.
It went without saying that those two could keep anyone on their toes, whether willingly or not was a whole other issue.
However, no one had expected two posh, rich versions of the boys from another dimension to gate-crash the bunker with a flair that just screamed; "Daddy paid our paths through college."
Credit where it was due though, they did earn their keep in their world, it would be unfair to take away that credit.
Though that didn't deter from the fact that the situation was mind-bending and I wasn't entirely sure what to make of the whole thing.
I did, however, want to know more, especially about this alternate Sam.
My world's Sam was handsome enough with his flannel and brown jacket and fabulous hair, though he had been styling his hair in a way I didn't particularly find flattering to him as of late, but that was his business.
It didn't take away from my undeniable crush on the man.
Unfortunately, at least from what I could gather, he wasn't gay and if he was, then he definitely wasn't interested in me.
This new Sam, on the other hand, was sending up all the signals and damn if I was going to ignore them, damn if I even could.
My curiosity was peaked and I planned to make the best of the situation while Sam, Dean and the others were out doing their thing and I was left to babysit.
"Hey Sammy," I said, walking over to the table.
He looked up at me from his borrowed laptop, his expression a little pinched.
"It's Samuel or Sam," he corrected.
"Of course," I smiled, setting down two glasses and a decanter that I had carried in, "sorry, force of habit."
"No harm done," he nodded, returning the smile, though his was definitely tighter and more hesitant.
He watched as I pulled out a chair on the opposite side of the table and sat down, closing the laptop to show that I now had his undivided attention.
"Hope I didn't pull you away from any cute cat videos," I laughed, pulling the stopper off the decanter.
"Nothing that won't be there when I log back on," he replied, his smile looser and more genuine this time.
"True, I concede your point."
I picked up the decanter and started to pour myself a drink, sparing a quick glance at him.
"Would you like some? It's not much or fancy, just some scotch."
"Please, anything would be better than..." he gave the beer bottle an offended look that caused me to snicker and nod.
"I did notice how you are less than impressed with the beer."
"It's...different."
"Speaking of different," I started, sliding glass I had been filling towards him carefully, "how are you liking it here?"
He picked up the glass and then set it back down again, as though uncertain what to do with it and deciding to simply drum on it with his long fingers.
"Funny you should ask, I was discussing that with Dean just a short while ago," he stopped and finally took a sip as I poured my own drink, "we like it here."
I raised my eyebrow, putting the stopper back in its place before picking up my glass and leaning back in my seat, lifting one of my legs to rest a foot on top of the table.
"Oh really?"
"Yes, it's simple, a little drab but there's something charming about the place at the same time."
"It's home," I answered simply with a shrug.
"And you can feel that it is, not that we didn't have our base back home but this place feels different in a good way, for the most part."
"Except the beer."
He laughed and took another sip of his scotch, my stomach flipping at the interaction.
As a means of distraction, I downed the little bit I had in my glass and then poured some more in, clearing my throat.
"So, tell me about your world."
"What would you like to know?"
"Anything, everything."
"That's a lot, it could take a while."
"I have all the time you need."
We made eye contact across the table, a moment that lingered in a way that could only be described as 'eye-fucking'.
How long I had dreamt of a moment like this with Sam Winchester.
Of course, it ended up happening when one Sam was meant to be acting more like another Sam to throw off God's scent, but who truly knew how much he was witnessing in that exact moment?
He was probably too busy conjuring up plot twists to pull out of his ass and call 'character development'.
Besides, sometimes my worlds Sam could act a little camp, no wonder I spent so much time twisting my mind as to what the hell was the potential between us.
Clearing my throat, I reluctantly withdraw from the moment and lift my glass again.
"Okay, so main question I guess, what's other universe me like? If I'm even there."
Sam took a second to consider the question, twisting the now empty glass in his hand which prompted me to push the decanter towards him.
He gave me a nod of thanks and pulled it closer.
"I suppose the first main different is that our world's you is female."
"Oh, and you're sure that's me?"
"I'm certain," he nodded again, pouring himself another drink. "To put it simply, you have the same eye colour, same hair colour and you both have matching scars on your neck from the case that got you hunting in the first place, I assume at least."
My fingers instinctively ran along a jagged scar that ran diagonally from the bottom right of my neck towards my collarbone.
"So, even though it's a different world you work the same cases."
"I can imagine that some would match up, yes."
"Makes sense, shame she didn't turn up."
"Why is that?"
"I guess it would have been nice to try a little experiment with something."
Even though I was looking at the swirling content of my drink, I could feel Sam looking at me, probably wanting to ask what kind of experiment I was talking about but that wasn't a question I wished to answer, so I quickly waved it off and shot him a smile.
"Tell me about Hunter Corp, I'd love to know more, how it started, how much you get paid per hunt."
Sam looked hesitant but dropped the subject anyway, something that I was very thankful for.
Time whittled away too quickly listening to him talk about how the operation worked and I could admit that just a hint of jealousy was bubbling up.
The amount they got paid for hunting internationally was nothing to scoff at and all we were paid in was scars and trauma.
I'd be lying if I said that a bubble of jealousy wasn't stirring in my stomach, which in turn made me feel guilty because their entire freaking world was gone because of Chuck and here I was, envious of their money.
Pushing past the jealousy, I continued asking questions and he in turn asked about my hunting life, how it worked with our methods and time passed us by until, before we knew it, we had reached late into the night.
"Shit," I mumbled, taking a look at my watch, "I've taken up way too much of your time."
"I'd say it was more a mutual exchange," Sam smiled.
I returned it with a small nod then stood up from my seat.
"Guess I'll wash up our glasses and let you have some downtime without me bugging you."
"You're not bothering me, in fact, I'd be happy to spend some more time with you."
"Really?"
"Really."
"Oh, well if you're sure, we could watch some movies or something."
He nodded slowly, a look that I could only describe as hinting crossing his face as his lips pulled into a small smirk.
"Or something sounds good."