#supernatural djinn

[stargazedwinchester]

Would love to read Sam in a Djinn dream since I’ve struggled to understand his motivations. I haven't found even one fic like this. Thxs

Haunted ♡ Sam

Summary: Sam gets caught by a Djinn, dreaming of a life without you. Word Count: 1,912 I hope this is okay! Sorry it took a bit of time to get out! You can take this romantically or not; it's completely up to you. I tried to keep it generic in case it's not something you wanted <3 I believe this is the longest imagine I've written, which is crazy tbh Also I'm sorry for the British terms in this - idk what the Americanized versions are lol

You find that yourself and Sam are irreplacably close. You both grew up with similar childhoods, unknowingly setting yourselves up as life partners.

You practically did everything together, including spending a lot of time with Dean. He always thought that it was sweet that his baby brother had someone that would keep him occupied. Help him stay on the right path. In fact, having you around made things ten times easier. An extra pair of hands for research, hunting and a smart-ass mouth definitely assisted in getting answers out of people during hunts.

“So, get this,” Sam starts, your head peeking up from behind your newspaper. “Go on.” You urge him. It’s been a couple weeks without any work, and you can feel yourself tweaking from sitting still. Hunting is filthy, yet you crave it. It gives you a sense of purpose and knowing that you potentially save peoples lives fills a void in you that you didn’t know you had. The joys of working among the two best hunters alive also patches that void right up with pride.

“Mystery deepens as man goes missing.” Sam states, reading the headline from the newspaper he’s holding. You roll your wrist, pursing your lips, encouraging Sam to carry on. “Mystery follows suit as William Hardy, 33, goes missing after attending an afterparty. William left the nightclub and never returned home to his wife, Kate, 34.” Sam finishes, his shiny eyes gazing at you. “Right. Well, we have a possible case.” You stand up, tidying the books and papers into piles, sliding the books back onto their designated shelves. “Hold on, we can’t say this is for us or not.”

“Sammy,” you stand above him, and he looks up at you. “Man goes missing. Y/N goes investigate. Sam and Dean go with Y/N.” You nod, a playful smile on your face. Sam laughs at you. “Even if there is no case, at least it gets us out of the bunker. I’m bored as hell.”

Dean parked the Impala outside of a huge office firm. The brothers suited up and yourself in smart attire. As you exit the car, you look up at the building - glass completely covering the whole of it. The sun catching on each angle, making you squint your eyes. Maybe looking at the sun itself would be easier on the eyes.

You all enter the building, Dean asking for a Ms. Hardeker at the reception. They tell you to sit whilst she finds a moment to bring you into her office.

Upon entering, you notice her desk is a little messy. A tissue box that’s practically empty, pens sprawled out all over her desk and a couple laid on the floor. “Come, sit down, sit down.” She ushers you all to sit, and you do. Her eyes are tired and puffy. Kate’s hair slicked back in a bun, a few baby hairs poking out. Her formal appearance makes it seem like everything’s perfect. Kate sits down behind her desk, and her eyes sit upon you. You flash her a comforting smile before Dean sparks a conversation.

A couple of hours later, you leave the building retaining a lot of information about William. You scribbled down notes in your notebook to help you further the investigation when you get back to the bunker. You feel as though your mind is on overdrive, the empathy you feel toward Kate is unreal. You can’t imagine ever feeling the way she does.

Days later, you and the brothers head to William’s last known location, the bar. It’s crowded and blaring with live music. You feel the floor vibrate beneath you, shimmying through the crowd to get to the bar. Dean opens up a tab, allowing you to find a booth to sit together.

You notice Sam’s been quiet this entire time, his eyes kept to the ground. He swirls his whiskey in the glass, the liquid almost forming a tiny whirlpool. You watch him, and he glances up at you, displaying a light smirk. “You okay?” You mouth to him, and he nods. Something is eating at him, and he’s damn good at hiding it. Pulling out your notebook, you assume that Sam needs a distraction. “Okay, so,” you start, and their heads perk up. “From what we got, Will wouldn’t have gone far from here. If anything, he would’ve stepped out of here and it would’ve yanked him. The time that he left here versus the time Kate called his phone… she called six times with no answer.” You huff, looking over at Dean. He presses his lips together, his pupils focused on your notepad. “Then there’s no time to waste. Let’s find that son of a bitch.”

Upon leaving, the thumping of the music decreases and you feel like you can finally think again. The night sky is lightly decorated with stars, the moon shining like a huge hole piercing through the fabric of the sky. The soft moonlight reflects onto Sam’s hair, his cheekbone catching the moonlight as he looks over at you. You reach up and stroke his back with your thumb, quickly pulling him in for a side hug. He gazes down at you, planting a kiss atop your head. This was your favourite thing about being this close with Sam. You can get away with doing things like this without Dean making it weird. He knows how much you both mean to each other and, luckily; he sees it as you’re part of the family. At this point, you practically are.

Glancing over to your right, you notice a dingy alleyway with a slim, wooden door that seems like it leads to nowhere. You tap Dean on his bicep, ushering him to follow. Dean takes the lead as usual, scanning the back street for an extra lane to go down. But this time, it leads straight to the door. No sign, no people. It gets freakier by the second. You keep it hush, pressing your ear against the door.

Silence.

Dean turns the handle, the door opening almost without force. His forest eyes pin back at you, his eyebrows scrunched. Sam slips you out of the way, so he can be there to protect you in case someone - or something - jumps out at you. His broad frame completely shields yours. The building seems derelict but not abandoned. Lights flicker quickly and almost in a pattern, debris and dirt cover the place. There are tracks along the floor, leading around a corner that leads into a hallway. You pair up with Dean, whilst Sam investigates the hallway. A sense of hidden depth hangs heavy as you two claim the main floor. It’s hard to tell, but the whole place feels endless.

As Sam turns a corner into a new room, his flashlight quivers, the bulb dimming as he fully enters the room. He’s abruptly met with what looks like a human covered in dark tattoos from head to toe. Sam gasps at the sudden encounter, attempting to shield himself from being attacked. The tattoos on his skin glow an electric blue, the shade travelling across his entire face, lighting up his eyes. A neon blue flame arises from his hand. The djinn completely entrapped Sam, entrancing him into a dream-like state. Sam’s eyes roll back.

Sam wakes up in a fright. He’s back at the bunker, in his own bed. His damp back hints at a nightmare, though its cause eludes him. Sam runs his hand through his hair, taking a deep breath. It’s not often he suffers with nightmares. Nothing major in his life had happened prior, which leaves him confused. Sam gets out of bed and clears his throat. He makes his way down the hall, passing your bedroom. The door is slightly ajar, and he peeks inside. More often than not, you leave your door somewhat open, so either of the Winchesters know you’re awake. He pushes the door open, revealing an already made bed, none of your belongings or little trinkets on the shelves. Nothing. He furrows his brows, scanning the room as if he’s in the wrong room. Sam hears clanging coming from the kitchen, so he shuts the door and makes his way up to the main foyer.

“Y/N?” He calls, padding over to the kitchen. “Y/N?” He calls again, and Dean snorts. “Who’s that, Sammy? One of your lady friends?” He laughs, shoving his face full of eggs and bacon. “Wh- no, Dean. Where’s Y/N?” He asks, almost panicky. He examines the room for anything that simulates you. Dean watches him, puzzled. “Sam, who are you talking about? There’s no Y/N here.” He pauses, fork in hand. “Sammy, are you feeling okay?” Dean puts his fork down, hesitating whether to approach his brother. Sam stands there in disbelief, a lump forming in his throat.

“Y/N’s room isn’t there. Nothing of hers is there. You don’t even know who I’m talking about,” he rambles, running his hand through his hair again. His brain is in overdrive right now, and Dean’s eyes are locked on him. He takes cautious steps toward Sam. “Y/N isn’t here, Dean. Something’s wrong.”

Dean falters, his lip moving as if he wants to say something, but he’s unsure on exactly what. Sam’s fear stricken gaze locks with Dean’s uncertainty.

You plunge the silver dagger into the hip of the djinn, and he releases a bloodcurdling scream. The light covering his body blinks before submerging. The djinn’s body falls to the floor, and Sam lays unconscious. Dean rushes over to Sam, slapping his face lightly to attempt and wake him up. “C’mon, Sammy,” He grunts, pulling him up so he can rest against a wall. You kneel down beside Sam, fumbling as you pull out your handy flask. You unscrew the lid and pour water over his face, hoping that the icy feeling washes over him and that he wakes up. He doesn’t.

“Sam?” You whisper, caressing his face, hoping that light touches trigger something instead. Luckily, Sam awakens. “Oh, thank God,” You press your hand to your heart, you take his hand and he squeezes lightly. “Thought you were a goner,” you chuckle lightly, and Sam looks over at you. Dean stands up, collecting himself from what just happened. He rubs his hand over his stubble, one hand on his hip. Sam huffs, showing you a tiny smile. He’s pale and weak, so you offer him the rest of your water from the flask. “Are you okay?” You comfort him, stroking your hand on his shoulder. “Yeah. I’m grateful you’re here.” He swallows. “When he got me - when the djinn got me - he took me to a place where you didn’t exist.” Sam glances up at you with glossy eyes, and you’re unsure whether it’s from pain or he’s upset. “It, uh…” He stalls, and you sit patiently next to him, not rushing him.

“It really got to me, you know? You not being there in my life,” Sam pants, struggling to find the words. “You mean the world to me, Y/N. I hope you know that.” He says, pulling at your heartstrings. “More than you know. I mean it. I don’t say it enough.” He chuckles, and you grin. “I know you don’t.” You joke, and he playfully hits your arm. You help Sam to stand up, and he pulls you in to a bear hug. This hug means more than the rest of them.

[brothersfuck]

Djinn: Your mom is alive, your dad is dead (deep down you know you wanted him dead anyway) oh and you can HAVE your family life if you choose to. You can HAVE the normality you house yourself in

Sam: oh but we're not close here and also I live like a ten hour flight away...not a problem, right?

Dean: GET ME OUT OF HERE

[nowayimbored]

Same As It Ever Was

Summary: You had tagged along with the Winchester brothers for a few years at this point, and had yet to take a vacation. With a break in between cases, it seems like the perfect time. However, the vacation turns into anything but a break when you go missing.

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Reader, platonic!Dean Winchester x Reader

WC: 6,100

Notes: This idea has been gnawing at me for DAYS a reasonable amount of time. Pardon the length, I have a lot to yap about. I was inspired by the song 'Once in a Lifetime' by the Talking Heads. :) Enjoy!

TW: Angst! Fluff! Brief moment of "suicide" & mentions of death.

It seemed like you and the Winchesters never got a break. Everything was always heavy on your shoulders, your communal burden to bear. However, there was a break in between cases, a rare phenomenon these days. You were in desperate need of a mini vacation. Pitching it to Dean, however, might have proved to be the hardest part.

“Please Dean! We deserve a break, something nice for a change. Don’t you agree, Sam?” you looked over to the taller brother. He nodded, but put his arms up in defense. “I’m staying out of this. But she does have a good point…” Sam trailed off, a certain tone in his voice. Dean rolled his eyes and threw up his hands in exasperation, “Fine.” 

Maybe it wouldn’t be so hard convincing him. 

You knew everything was taking a toll on him too, but he was always so stoic on the outside. You could only imagine what was going on behind his emerald green eyes.

“Where to?” Dean asked as you slid into the front seat of the Impala, trying to flee the Texas heat. Sam slipped into the backseat, yawning. “Don’t care, but preferably somewhere with smooth highways.” You chuckled, looking back to see Sam propping himself up against the door already, cozying himself enough to take a nap. “I could use some sun and water. Fishing, swimming, suntanning, the whole nine yards!” you replied excitedly. “Good enough for me,” Dean responded, smiling over at you. 

And with that, you were off, headed towards the nearest lake. Sam’s soft snores could barely be heard over the music Dean had put on, a band you were unfamiliar with. Every once in a while, you would sneak glances at Sam, reveling in his peaceful, sleeping frame. He almost seemed too big for the backseat in the position he was in, but you knew it had always been his comfort spot, right behind the passenger seat where Dean used to sit.

You had a small crush on Sam for a little while now, but you knew it would be foolish to act upon. You were sure he didn’t see you more than a best friend or little sister, just as Dean had. After the third or fourth glance of yours toward Sam, Dean piped up, “You know, you should tell him.” You flushed, looking out the window at the passing of shrubs and blurry road lines to hide your face. “Tell who what?” You tried to deny, putting as much cluelessness in your voice as possible. 

Dean scoffed and let out a chuckle, “That’s some great acting. Almost like Rooney Mara in A Nightmare on Elm Street.” You sneered and rolled your eyes. “Dean, there’s nothing to tell him,” you dismissed, shaking your head. “I see the way you two look at each other, like two beat puppies. It’s a little gross and sappy, even for me,” he quipped. You opened your mouth to reply, but settled on a playful middle finger shot his way. He smiled, a chuckle his only response.

You had never noticed Sam looking your way, was Dean right or just egging you on? That question had you pondering for the rest of the ride to Canyon Lake, a little way outside of San Antonio. Dean had pulled into a shabby motel on the outskirts of town. It looked slightly run down, but you couldn’t complain. At least it was a room to yourself and a mattress to sprawl out on. 

Dean went inside to reserve two rooms, one for you and one for them. Sometimes, to save on costs, you three would share a room if they had a pull-out couch or cot available. You always insisted on taking the latter, but Sam would never let you win the argument. One time, he went as far as to move you to his bed while you slept, while he took your spot on the couch. 

Sam was awake now, thanks to Dean slamming the door on his way out of the car. “Mornin’ sunshine,” you greeted in a thick, terrible Texas drawl. “Morning,” he croaked, sleep still heavy in his voice. “Where are we?” You opened up the passenger side door and swung your legs out, “Canyon Lake, Texas. Dean’s grabbing us a couple of rooms.” You made your way to the trunk, closing the Impala’s door lightly. 

Sam exited the car as well, joining you to grab his duffel. “How’d you sleep?” you asked as you grabbed your bag from the car. Before he had a chance to respond, Dean walked up. He handed you a key, “Number 27, we’re right next to you in 28.” “Thanks,” you said, wrapping the keychain around your finger. You found your room quickly, there wasn’t very many to pick from. 

The motel room wasn’t anything to write home about. It was small, outdated, and the paint was faded. There was a queen size bed in the middle of the room, covered in threadbare sheets that look like something that came out of your grandma’s house. The air was stale and dusty, making you sneeze as you walked in and shut the door behind you. You opened the single window the room had and turned on the AC to get the air circulating. 

You laid on the bed, lost in your thoughts, still focusing on what Dean said earlier. Did his words hold any truth or was this just a play to try to get his brother laid again? The air conditioner struggled, whirring and squeaking, the only noise besides your quiet breathing. 

It was almost like meditation, getting lost in your thoughts of Sam. 

Your stomach gurgled, breaking your concentration. You sat up, looking out the window. The soft breeze rustled the sagebrush in front of the motel. The sun was lower now, nearing its end of service for the day. You slid off of the bed, combing your fingers through your hair prior to making your way out the door. You knocked on Sam & Dean’s door before entering, not waiting for them to answer. 

“Hey, I’m hungry, who wants pizza?” You asked as you walked in, closing the door behind you. “I’m in,” the brothers said in unison. “Jinx, you owe me some pie!” Dean called out with a huge smirk. Sam smiled and shook his head, hair ruffling with the movement. You googled the nearest pizza place and placed an order for delivery, you didn’t need to ask what they wanted after spending as much time with them as you had. 

“Anybody in the mood for a movie?” Dean asked. Sam looked up from his book towards you, seemingly trying to read your mind. “Depends, what movie?” you ask, shooting Sam an inquisitive look. Dean scrolled through the TV guide mindlessly, naming off each movie. “…The Truman Show, Forrest Gump, Click, Groundhog Day… c’mon make up your mind! I’m running out of movies,” Dean complained, eyes flicking between you and the screen. “Forrest Gump, I haven’t seen that in a while,” you decided, only half interested in the movie. “Finally,” Dean muttered under his breath, selecting the option on the screen. 

The pizza was delivered shortly into the movie. You made yourself comfortable on Sam’s bed, laying on your stomach with your arms propping you up to get a better angle of the TV. You swore you felt Sam’s eyes rake over your body several times, but decided it was your overactive imagination. After all, you were wearing an oversized shirt and athletic shorts, not exactly your definition of eye-grabbing or sexy.

After Forrest Gump was over, Dean insisted on watching Se7en for what seemed to be the umpteenth time. By then, the sun had set and the pizza was gone, only some crusts of Sam’s and crumbs left. Your eyes grew heavier as the night went on, parts of the movie skipping as you came in and out of consciousness.

You were awoken by a blanket being draped over you. You sucked in a breath and stretched, rolling over to your back to see Sam, a slight smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. “Sorry, you looked cold,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. “No, thank you. I should probably get back to my room, though,” you said in a sleep-laced tone. “No, if you’re comfortable here, I can take your room,” he replied.

You thought on it a second, before Dean’s snores interrupted you. “No thanks, you can tune out Dean better than I can,” you chuckled, slowly sitting up and stretching your arms above your head before gracefully bringing them down on either side of you. Sam smiled and let out a soft, breathy laugh in response. You stood, joints cracking and groaning, silently making your way towards the door. Sam followed, opening the door for you, “Sweet dreams.” “Goodnight Sam,” you replied as you brushed a hand against his shoulder. 

A blush grew in your cheeks, but you ducked into your room before he had the chance to notice. You locked the door behind you, tiredly plodding over to your rented bed. You flopped down, your head barely hitting the pillow before falling asleep. One of your many talents.

The next morning, you awoke to a knock on your door. “Rise and shine, sleeping beauty! Let’s get some grub,” Dean’s voice called from the other side of the thin wood. Leave it to Dean to always be thinking of food. “Be there in a minute!” you called through the door, already on your way out of bed. You ruffled through your bag, trying to decide what to wear. You didn’t have many choices to pick from, so deciding on a shorter sundress came quickly. 

You didn’t have many clothes, let alone nice clothes, so this was a treat. You scrounged up your bathing suit from the bottom of your bag, slipping it on underneath your dress. You struggled for a moment to tie the top of your bikini, but finally managed after contorting yourself around in the mirror. You opened your door to Sam, standing right in the doorway. “Hey, uh, Dean asked me to come get you, said you were taking too long,” he mumbled, looking down at you. 

“Here I am!” you smiled playfully. “Did you grab your swimsuit?” He shook his head no, then quickly dipped back inside his room. He reemerged a few moments later, Dean and swim trunks in tow. The three of you started off towards the Impala, the sun already almost unbearable. ‘The perfect kind of day for a swim’, you thought to yourself as you loaded into the car.

Dean drove to a grocery store just a few blocks from the motel. You picked up sunscreen and food for lunch, you planned to have a picnic on the sandy shore of the lake. Dean grabbed a donut for breakfast, while Sam grabbed a protein bar. You were never much of a breakfast person, but you grabbed a smoothie from the premade section as something to tide you over.

You checked out and headed over to the Impala, the sun blaring down. The drive to the lake was short, or perhaps you were just very excited. It had been a while since you’ve taken a break and even longer since you went swimming. Dean parked his baby in a shady parking spot, toward the end of the lot. You hopped out of the car, towel and cooler in hand, and eagerly headed towards the water. 

Sam and Dean headed toward the changing area as you searched for a spot to claim for the day. Finally, you found a nice area close to the water with a bit of shade and soft sand. You gently laid your towel down, placing the cooler next to it. Sam and Dean had caught sight of you and headed over as you opened the cooler, grabbing a beer for everyone. It was five o’clock somewhere! 

When they had reached you, Dean grabbed a beer with a soft “Thanks,” as he popped the top and took a swig. You tried not to stare at Sam, but he was shirtless and the sun was hitting his frame perfectly. He looked sublime, like an angel sent from above. Sam smiled, “Starting a little early, are we?” You returned his smile, breaking your gaze off of his toned chest and teased, “When in Rome, Samuel,” He scoffed and rolled his eyes, grabbing a beer from you, “It’s Sam.”

Dean laid his towel a few feet away from yours, taking a seat in the shade. You popped the top off of your beer, taking a swig before setting the bottle in a cupholder on top on the cooler. The breeze carried the smell of lake water, earthy and inviting. You took a deep breath, inhaling in the refreshing smell before sliding your dress off, revealing your bikini underneath. 

“I’m gonna hit the water,” you called out behind you, towards the boys as you skipped across the hot sand towards the water. You couldn’t look at Sam, getting lost in his muscular build was too tempting. You could feel his eyes, though, staring at you from his vantage point by the cooler. 

You slowly waded into the semi-clear water, its small waves lapping at your ankles, then your shins, thighs, all the way until you were finally submerged at the chest. You turned around, looking towards the shore at the brothers. Dean had already invited himself to your neighbor’s spot, chatting up a cute girl. Sam was sitting in the shade, next to the cooler, watching you. You waved at him before turning around, pushing off from the last spot you could touch on the lake’s bottom. 

You swam further out, a few hundred yards from shore. You could see Sam still, but he looked like a little blurb on the horizon, Dean was nowhere in sight. You dove underneath the calm surface, looking to get your hair wet so it was out of your face. Something brushed against your leg, almost tangling against you. Your heart skipped a beat, even though you told yourself it was probably a fish or some sort of plant. 

You quickly reemerged from the lake’s murky drink, treading water and wiping the hair away from your face. You looked around, but your surroundings seemed…off. Was there this much foliage? You started swimming towards shore, which seemed closer than before, but with each stroke of your arm your worries faded further away. After all, you needed to relax, that’s what your mini-vacation was all about. 

As you got closer to shore, you stood up, walking up to the bank. A corgi bounded up to you, clearly very excited. You smiled, bending down to pet it, “Hi pup, where’s your family?” The dog barked happily in response, running around your legs. “Eve! Let your mom get out of the water,” a familiar voice called out. You head swiveled around to see Sam, shirtless and gleaming in the soft sunlight. 

You smiled at him, a soft blush creeping up in your cheeks. “Hey honey, here’s your towel,” he said, offering you a neatly folded beach towel. You gladly accepted, covering your frame with the oversized cloth. You looked around the recreation area, it didn’t feel nearly as hot as it did before you got into the water and it wasn’t as crowded. You told yourself it was just the chill from the lake, but something seemed off. 

Sam bowed down to kiss your lips, too surprised to move or reciprocate, you stood there, eyes open as he brushed his lips against yours. “Woah, that…” you managed to squeak out. “After all this time I still take your breath away, huh, Mrs. Winchester,” he chuckled, brushing a stray wet strand of hair behind your ear.

When did you two get married? Hell, when did you start dating? “What are you talking about?” you questioned, backing a few steps away from Sam, or what seemed to be him. “Honey, are you okay?” he asked, concern laced in his deep voice. You paused, trying to take everything in. The water lapped at the shore, quietly crashing into the bank. A wave of calm washed over you, quelching any worry you had.

“I think I’m just tired,” you dismissed your feelings, placing your head on his muscular shoulder. He wrapped his arms around you protectively and kissed your forehead. “Let’s go home then, sweetie,” he cooed into your ear, kissing the top of your head once again before breaking his embrace. 

He called the dog – Eve, that was her name, right? – and she came bounding over, small legs working overtime. “Let’s load up, pup,” he said, walking over to a white Chevy Silverado. He opened the door before grabbing the dog and placing her in the vehicle. He closed the door, walking around back to close the tailgate before opening up the passenger door. You had stood in the same spot he left you in, a slight headache starting to form.

Something was off, but you couldn’t put your finger on it.

You slowly walked over to the truck, barefoot and still wrapped in the beach towel. Sam stood, still waiting by the passenger door, a smile plastered on his face. “Hop in, pretty lady.” You picked up your pace a bit, quickly closing the gap between the two of you. Holding the towel with one hand, you used the other to hoist yourself into the tall truck. Sam shut the door after you, making sure you were fully inside before doing so. 

Sam walked around the front of the truck, opened the door and gracefully slid into the driver’s seat. With one push of a button, the truck roared to life, and you started on your way down the road. The first part was bumpy, but quickly smoothed out as the gravel transitioned into pavement. You spent the entire ride looking out of the window, semi-familiar surroundings passing you by. 

‘Eve, I’ve a feeling I’m not in Texas anymore,’ you thought to yourself as you pulled up in the driveway of a sturdy two-story residence designed without the least bit of personality, a white picket fence spanning the perimeter.

Again, you heard water lapping around you, just faintly enough that it seemed like a memory. Your head throbbed for a moment, before another wave of calmness washed over you, curing your headache. Everything was going to be okay.

Sam cut the engine and looked over at you, seemingly studying your face. “Are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he observed, reaching a large hand towards you. You nodded, trying to ease his worry, “Yeah, I think the sun sucked out all of my energy.”

He chuckled, placing his hand over yours, fully engulfing it. His hands were soft, not at all hardened by scars and calloused like you remember. You made a mental note to ask him about his moisturizer routine. He gave it a reassuring squeeze, shutting the truck off with his other hand. He removed his palm from yours to undo his seatbelt buckle from the lock, with a click he was free.

He opened up his door, swinging his legs out, feet hitting the pavement with a soft thud. You unbuckled your seatbelt, head still fuzzy, in the same motion opening the truck door. “Woah, almost got me there!” Sam called out, dodging the opening door. “Shit! Sorry,” you apologized, reaching out to grab the door, but missing as it swung further open. “Don’t worry about it, honey,” he soothed, offering his hand to help you down.

You accepted, taking his hand in yours and slid out of the truck. Eve hopped into the passenger seat, taking your place, tail stub wagging. She leaped at you and you quickly caught her, loosening the towel you still had wrapped around your body. “Woah, be careful,” you told her, scratching her neck with the hand closest to her head. Sam closed the truck door behind you, fiddling with the fob in his hand to lock it. 

You slowly walked up the driveway, ditching the towel along the way, Eve still in your arms, Sam just behind you. He stopped to pick up your fallen cover, gently draping it over his arm. The porch creaked as you climbed up the steps towards the front door. Sam fiddled with his keys, metal on metal softly clanking, until he found the right one and opened the lock. He pushed open the door and gestured for you to go first. “Thank you,” you smiled to him, setting your dog down before entering the house. Eve disappeared around the corner as Sam closed the door behind you two.

The entryway was cozy, perfectly designed to your standards. Looking towards the living room, the stylistic choices carried, inviting a certain warmth and cohesiveness to the space. “Wow, this place is beautiful,” you whispered to yourself. “I know, you did such a great job. It’s not as beautiful as you, though,” he replied, slipping off his shoes. You blushed at his compliment, before mumbling a quick “Thank you.” 

You didn’t remember designing a house. Hell, you didn’t remember buying a house. Thinking back to seeing Sam at the lake, you didn’t remember seeing any of his scars across his body, or his tattoo on his chest. What the hell was happening? How did you get here, in this bizzarro world?

The sound of waves breaking against shore suddenly slammed back into your head, sending you reeling. You tried to steady yourself against the wall, but reached out to nothing. Sam had caught you instead, steading your frame against his. The sound of waves ebbed away slowly, replaced by a massive headache and a wave of tranquility. 

“Honey, are you okay? Do you need to lie down?” Sam asked, his voice distressed. “Yeah…maybe that would be good,” you agree, steadying yourself. “Hold on tight,” Sam commanded before quickly lifting you up, bridal style. He gave you no time to react, typically you would protest but with everything going on, being in his arms made you feel safe. 

Sam carried you up the stairs and down a short hallway into a bedroom, you assumed it was the one the two of you shared. Pictures of your wedding day, Eve, and family dotted the walls. The bed was soft, molding to fit the shape of you. “Can I get anything for you? A glass of water? Tylenol?” Sam offered, brushing his hand softly against your cheek. You nodded, head pounding with each movement. 

Sam disappeared out of the room; you could hear his footsteps quickly descending down the stairs. You climbed under the flannel bedsheets, the warmth making you feel a smidgen better. Your husband quickly returned with a glass of water and a bottle of Tylenol, setting both on the nightstand closest to you. You propped yourself up on one elbow to grab the Tylenol. You popped two into your mouth, then took a swig of water to wash them down. 

The water felt good on your parched tongue, you didn’t realize how thirsty you were. You finished off the glass of water in a few loud gulps, Sam watching your every move as if you would break with the slightest touch. “Can I get you anything else?” he offered. You shook your head, laying back down, cozying yourself into the covers. “Okay, just let me know, I’ll be downstairs,” he cooed, placing a kiss on your forehead. 

You smiled up at him, everything was perfect. 

You slept until the morning, soft rays of sunlight illuminating the room. You stretched, your body faintly aching. You looked over to the other side of the bed, but it was empty, except for Eve. She greeted you happily, licking your face. You ran your fingers through her soft fur, scratching under her collar. Her tags jingled, catching your attention.

You grabbed onto her nametag out of curiosity, it was a simple red tag in the shape of a heart. Her name was on the front in a typewriter-esque font. On the back, your and Sam’s phone number with an address: 817 Pleasant Street, Miles City, Montana. An uneasy feeling settled in the pit of your stomach, but you couldn’t place why. Something just felt…off.

The feeling quickly faded, replaced by something softer, seeing Sam emerge from the walk-in closet in a suit and tie. Hot was the only word that came to mind. “Good morning, sleeping beauty,” he greeted you with a soft smile. “How do you feel?” “Better,” you replied, sleep making your voice scratchy and deeper than normal.

“Good, I was starting to worry about you,” he admitted, making his way over to the side of your bed. You smiled up at him, stretching, your creaking bones thanking you. “I’m sorry, but I won’t be home for lunch today. I have court and I have a feeling it’s going to be a long day,” he sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed. You heart beat harder in your chest, “What did you do?” you asked, worry creeping into your tone. 

He chuckled, “Very funny. It’s for the Mills case.” “Right, the Mills case…” you confirmed, unsure of what he was talking about. “I love you so much,” he murmured against your ear before giving you a sweet peck on the lips, just short enough to leave you wanting more. He stood, raking his eyes over you before turning towards the bedroom door. He picked up a briefcase from beside the door and with that, he was off, bounding down the stairs and out the door. 

You slowly climbed out of bed, making your way to the attached bathroom. You came face to face with yourself as you flipped the light switch, a warm glow illuminating your frame. You decided to take a shower. The warm droplets pounded against your skin, which made you feel a bit better. Even the bathroom was decorated beautifully, black with golden accents shining through. 

The rest of your day was spent with Eve around the house, a welcome distraction in this slightly off world. Maybe the world wasn’t off, you started to think. 

Maybe you were. 

You quickly cleared the notion from your head, it was probably your migraine from yesterday lingering in your brain, jumbling things around. 

Sam arrived home a bit after 5:30, but you were prepared. Dinner was set out on the table, tonight you were having chicken and broccoli alfredo. The two of you sat at the table in the dining room, chatting back and forth about your days. This is how you figured out your husband was a criminal defense lawyer. “How was work?” Sam inquired, piercing a broccoli floret with his fork. “Work? Uh, work was…” you trailed off, trying to find some words to fill the space. “Are the Issacs’ still giving you trouble? Why can’t they pick out a tile color?”  Sam playfully jested, rolling his eyes. 

The perfectly curated house made sense now, you were an interior designer. You let a breathy laugh escape your lips, trying to mask the confusion. Your headache slowly snaked back, lapping at your temples. You thought your ears picked up on water purling again but instead you pushed the annoyance to the side, deciding to spend the evening winding down with your husband and dog. As the moon started to rise, the both of you decided to hit the hay before it got too late.

The pattern continued for a few weeks, then weeks bled into months. Your headaches slowly diminished over time, by now you rarely even got a whisper of pain. 

~

It was a Saturday, your favorite. It meant that Sam was all yours, no work for either of you, just an endless day of relaxation and fun. Fall was coming to a start, so you had decided to spend the weekend deep cleaning instead of out on an adventure like you typically would do. Dusting was first on your list, admittedly it had been a while. You started in the entryway, running the Swiffer over the pictures that hung on the walls. Actually, you never stopped to look at them on your way out the door. 

A face stuck out to you, but who it was seemed fuzzy around the edges. You just couldn’t place him. You shook the feeling, continuing on your dusting journey, which took up most of the morning. You met Sam in the kitchen around noon, his back was turned as he prepared a salad for the two of you, a quick and easy lunch. “Hey, who’s picture is in the entryway? He’s got short tousled brown hair, green eyes…” you trailed off on your description, noticing his shoulders tense. “Babe, that’s Dean…remember?” he said, turning around. 

It rung a faint bell, but you weren’t quite sure where to place him. “Yeah, right, sorry,” you apologized, deciding to drop the subject to save him from discomfort. He let out a small, sad sigh, “I miss him every day.” You walked up, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder, hoping it would say what words couldn’t.

The rest of the afternoon continued like normal, the both of you caught up in books, Eve between you, cuddled tightly into a ball. Afternoon dripped into evening and the two of you started getting ready for bed. Tonight, however, sleep evaded you. Sam’s soft snores echoed throughout the bedroom, but that had never bothered you before. You tossed and turned, hoping for sleep to overcome you.

Finally, it occurred to you.

Dean was Sam’s brother. Dean wasn’t dead. He was alive, you had just seen him a few months ago in Texas. You shot up, body drenched in a cold sweat.

This was not your house.

Sam was not your husband.

What was going on?

Before you could think deeper into the conundrum that you faced, the sounds of water violently slapping against shore, churning, angry, made your head pound. It felt like you were right next to the sea as a bad storm rolled in, pounding the coast, only the coast was your head. Your hands flew up to your ears in a desperate attempt to block out the noise, but to no avail. 

You stumbled out of bed, disoriented by the pounding in between your temples. Bleary-eyed, you staggered down the stairs, eyes scanning over the key holder before you found what you were looking for: the truck keys. You hastily made your way out of the door, leaving the door open to not risk waking Sam. 

Or whatever was pretending to be him.

You gripped the side of the house tightly, the sounds of water growing into a symphony of a tsunami, a loud roaring, hissing, terrible noise. The siding was rough under your fingertips, paint chipping off as you dug your fingernails in. This confused you even more, the house seemed real. However, you knew deep down that it wasn’t.

None of this was real, it had to be a dream. 

Right?

You pulled yourself together just enough to clamber into the truck, pushing the button to start it. It roared to life and you spent no time to let it idle before throwing it into reverse and high tailing it out of the driveway. You sped off into the night, head pounding and vision burring. ‘Thank god it’s the middle of the night’, you thought, ‘Nobody is out on the roads.’

You followed the highway to where it began, the lake you and ‘Sam’ had visited months prior. It was empty, of course, except for a few frogs that called the water their home. You could have heard their calls if your head wasn’t still reeling, the water turbulence getting impossibly louder, despite the calm lake.

Tears fell down your face, you didn’t know what to believe anymore. This life was perfect, was all you ever wanted…almost. You battled with yourself, head throbbing through it all, clouding your judgement, were you right? Were you wrong? What was going on? Deep, steady breaths did nothing to calm you. 

Staring out at the lake from the driver’s seat of the truck, nothing was clicking, the pieces still impossibly jig-sawed. Then it dawned upon you, an old wives’ tale.

If you’re about to die in a dream, you’ll wake up.  

The idea was half-cocked at best, but you had nothing else to go off of. If nothing else, it would make the throbbing stop. You buckled your seatbelt and made sure it was secure before rolling down all of the windows in the vehicle. The pounding was causing spots to blur your vision, your head feeling on the verge of exploding.

You took another deep breath, exhaled until your lungs were empty, then floored the gas pedal, heading straight for the lake.

The truck crashed into the water, sinking impossibly fast. Water poured in through the open windows, icy cold. You tried to take a deep breath, but inhaled nothing but the murky waters.

‘My God, what have I done?’ you thought to yourself, silently choking, lungs burning. 

The sound of beeping surrounded you now, slow and steady. One of your hands felt heavy and warm, while the other was cold. “Please, please, wake up. I need you, dear God, I need you. I love you, okay? I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, I’m sorry,” you faintly heard a familiar voice beg, your arm raised up by an unseen force, hand placed against something scratchy. Your eyelids felt impossibly heavy, but you managed to squint, the bright lights blinding you. Weakly, you turned your head, trying to get away from it.

Was this the bright white light everyone talked about?

“Hey, are you with me? Please,” the voice sounded clearer now. “I’m here, it’s okay, I’m never going to let anything hurt you again,” the voice, now recognizable as Sam’s, promised. You managed to open both of your eyes to half mast, sneaking a peek from under your eyelashes. 

He looked worse for wear. His face looked older, deep purple bags under his tired, sunken eyes, beard scruffier than a five ‘o’clock shadow. He breathed a sigh of relief, “Thank God, you’re awake.” You took a shaky breath and slowly exhaled, forcing your eyes open all of the way. It took a moment for your eyes to adjust to the light, but when they did, you could see you were in a bleak hospital room. “What happened?” you tried to muster out, but all that fell from your lips was a weak, “What…” 

“Shh, shh, it’s okay,” the tired man reassured you, gently patting your hand. “It was a djinn; it swept you under the water. Turns out, there’s an underwater cave he was using for his lair. You were there for a few days, we thought we had lost you forever.” You exhaled a short breath from your nose, turning your head to face away from him. 

“Hey, look at me,” he pleaded. You slowly turned your head back over, obliging his request. “I need to tell you something, and I know this probably isn’t the best time, but I need to get it off my chest.” Sam stated, his grip tightening on your hand. Before you could say anything, you meekly cooed, “I love you too.” in a scratchy voice. Sam smiled and wiped away a tear that was forming in the corner of his eye, “I love you so much more.” 

~

It was a rough week of recovery, but you were finally ready to ditch the hospital gown for your regular loose-fitting flannel and jeans. Doctor’s orders were to take it easy, and between the two brothers, especially Sam, you knew it would happen. Sam threw your bag into the trunk of the Impala, slamming it shut. “Ready to hit the road?” he asked, placing a hand on the small of your back. “Moreso than ever,” you replied, placing a kiss on his cheek. “C’mon lovebirds, daylight’s a wasting!” Dean called out, dipping into the driver’s side of the car. 

You chuckled, smiling from ear to ear as you made your way to the passenger seat. Sam raced in front of you to open the door, shutting it behind you after you slipped in, sliding on the leather seat. Sam took the seat behind yours, squeezing your shoulder as Dean turned up the radio, classic rock blaring.

Everything was the same as it ever was, maybe even better.

[jarpadandjensens]

#SPNWEEK | day three | Classic SPN : Monster of the week

| Djinn

[strawlessandbraless]

You ever just think about how Dean would be Cas’s third wife?

[embraceyourdestiny]

"Cassiel is depicted in Francis Barrett's The Magus as a dragon-riding djinn with a beard"

I dont have any strong feelings about destiel at the moment, but i cant lie, learning that the angel Cassiel Castiel is based off of was depicted as a djinn, and knowing that a djinn has such significance to Dean's character/life, that would def be fuel to the fire if i shipped

[italwayshadtobeyou]

[bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky]

Maybe I’m the odd one out here but What is and What Should Never Be always absolutely destroys me. I weep for almost the entire episode.

Dean has a home. He has someone who loves him. His life is normal and safe. And I cry.

The way he looks at Mary when he sees her for the first time. The way he nearly crumbles when she says “I told you angels were watching over you”. And then he hugs her with everything he has. He’s so happy to be back with him mom, back in his childhood home. His mom makes him lunch and it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to him. He gets to mow the lawn like a normal person. The trunk of his car isn’t full of weapons. He’s just ordinary, and he’s so happy about it. So I cry.

And the way he hugs Jess? He only ever met the girl once but he knows how much she means to Sam. And he knows that losing her almost killed his brother. And so he hugs her as tight as he can, because he’s so thrilled that she’s alive and Sam is happy. And I cry.

But what also kills me is the way that Sam and his mom talk about Dean. They’re always asking if he’s been drinking. They’re suspicious of all of his actions and his affections. Maybe the version of Dean from this life wasn’t exactly on the straight and narrow, but they talk about him like he’s a deadbeat. So I cry.

Jesus Christ, and when Dean goes to talk to his dad at the cemetery?

“It's like my old life is… is coming after me or something. Like it like it doesn't want me to be happy. Course I know what you'd say. Well, not the you that played softball but... "So go hunt the Djinn. He put you here, it can put you back. Your happiness for all those people's lives, no contest. Right?" But why? Why is it my job to save these people? Why do I have to be some kind of hero? What about us, huh? What, Mom's not supposed to live her life? Sammy's not supposed to get married? Why do we have to sacrifice everything, Dad?”

He doesn’t say “why can’t I have the life I want?” Sure, he asks why he has to be a hero. But he makes it more about Sam and his mom. Because he wants them to have the lives they deserve. And this moment just gives us another look at what a bastard John was. Dean knew how dismissive and rude John would be. He knew that John would never choose his own son’s happiness over the lives of strangers. And he’d probably scream at Dean for even considering the “selfish” option. The way Dean says that his old life doesn’t want him to be happy also kills me. Because it’s like, no matter where he goes or what he does, he’s destined for misery. So I sob.

And so Dean goes to hunt the Djinn. He chooses the lives of others over everything, like he always does. And he realizes his new life isn’t real. He realizes he’s been unconscious this entire time, and that Jess is dead. His mom is dead. Carmen doesn’t really exist. And I cry.

So he’s ready to kill himself, but the way that his family tries to convince him to stay?

Oh my god. Spiegel im Spiegel starts playing, and Sam asks “why’d you have to keep digging?”

Mary tells him to put the knife down. She says it doesn’t matter that this life isn’t real, it’s still better than anything he had before. And that yeah, in real life, he will die in a few days. But it will feel like years. And there will be “No more pain. Or fear. Just love and comfort. And safety,” none of which Dean has in his real life

But Dean still chooses to return to his life, because he cares more about our saving people than he does about his own happiness.

And he tells Sam about the fake life the djinn created for him. About how Sam was happy with Jess. And their mom was going to have grandchildren. Sam commends him for having the strength to fight it, to leave it behind. And Dean says, “But I wanted to stay. I wanted to stay so bad. I mean, ever since Dad... all I c– all I can think about is how much this job's cost us. We've lost so much. We've... sacrificed so much.”

and it’s like, damn. Why can’t Dean ever be truly happy? Cause even in this “happy” version of his life, everything was tinged with pain and sadness and grief. And I just wish he could get a break. So I cry and cry and cry and cry.

[wolfsetfree-if]

The absolute, visceral rage that took over Bela when they saw the Djinn master pet Omega!MC was something they hardly ever experienced before

[mecthology]

The Wadi-e-Jinn.

Deep in the Saudi Arabian desert, hidden in that dry wasteland, is Wadi-e-Jinn, the Valley of Jinn—a spooky, mysterious place. At first, it looks like any other dead valley, but something's weird. Nature's rules seem to change there. Locals say it's powerful jinn, ancient invisible beings who've owned that land for ages.

Many visitors have reported unsettling experiences, such as hearing whispers on the wind, as if the air itself were alive with voices. In 2010, a group of Bedouin travelers passed through the valley and had an inexplicable experience. One of their camels wandered into Wadi-e-Jinn and vanished without a trace. Despite an extensive search, the camel was never found. The events of that day in the valley remain a chilling and mysterious enigma.

[desdasiwrites]

"You! You can’t just walk in here! This is a crime scene!”

“That would explain the dead bodies, then,” she replied. He blinked dumbly, and she sighed. Wasting good sarcasm was annoying.

– P. Djèlí Clark, A Master of Djinn

[the--karkats--pajamas]

I’m absolutely not the first person to say this but I’m saying it.

Dean got exactly what he’s always wanted. He died on a hunt, went out swinging. Went to heaven but it’s sorta different than regular heaven. His brother got to leave hunting, live a normal life, complete with vague blurry wife and named his kid after Dean. He got some equally vague confirmation that Cas is back but he didn’t have to see him and experience the consequences of his confession. He sees his brother again in heaven.

What I’m saying is season 16 could open with Sam saving Dean from a djinn.

[shieldofiron]

Billy Hargrove’s Haunted Bong

For Harringrove Week March 29, Happy Billyday! Also on AO3 Here.

Specific Dialogue: “You don’t know what you put me through.”

NSFT-ish, just at the end.

Steve feels a little awkward picking through Billy Hargrove’s stuff. His dad’s gone, and now Max and her Mom are moving, they need to get rid of the excess, he knows that. There’s some of Billy’s dad’s stuff here, too, though a lot of it has been picked over by the neighborhood moms, trying to get shoes for their husbands and stuff.

There’s less of a market for teenage boy stuff, though Tommy has a few button downs slung over his arm, and apparently Max unloaded a bunch of Billy’s tapes on ‘The Freak’ Eddie Munson.

Steve is really here more as a favor to Max. He doesn’t know what he would do with a Scorpions t-shirt, or a stack of books. Who knew that Billy read so much, anyway?

Max walks over and crosses her arms, “Hey. Want you to see something.”

He shrugs, tossing the paperback he was never going to buy back in a pile, “Ok.”

Max leads him up the stairs and into the half packed house and into a mostly empty room. There’s a bed that’s been stripped, and a small cardboard box, open and half full on it. Steve catches a glimpse of a few tapes inside, and a handful of clothes. Maybe it’s stuff they’re saving.

Max holds up two cans of Aquanet, “Do you want these? I’ll give them to you for a dime.”

Steve fights to keep his face neutral, “Uh, not my brand. But thanks.”

“How about this?” She holds up a bottle of cologne, Paco Rabanne.

He shrugs, “Sure. How much?” This is probably fine, a non-weird thing to get, anyway.

“Uh... a quarter?” She says distractedly while he glances down to dig in his pocket for change. “And what about this?”

He looks up and almost chokes on his spit. It is without a doubt the biggest bong he’s seen in person.

“Put that down!” He says.

She scowls, “What’s your problem?”

“N-nothing. Didn’t Eddie want that?” Steve really would feel better if she put it down. Maybe stepped away from it too.

“He took the other one,” She shrugs, “Why? What’s wrong with it? It’s just a vase.”

Right. Just a vase.

He snatches it from her hands, just wanting to get it out of the house, “How much?”

“Uh... a dollar. No! Two dollars!” She cries.

He rolls his eyes, because this thing is probably expensive as shit, but he just wants it out of her house.

“Sure,” He pulls a couple of bucks out of his wallet, “I’ll see you, okay?”

She nods, counting the money, “You want your change?”

“No, nope, just gonna head right home,” And smash this thing to pieces, he thinks.

He hops in the beemer, throwing his vase across the passenger’s seat along with the cologne. It really is enormous, blue swirling glass that would be kind of pretty if it wasn’t dirty with old bong water and stuff.

“Never let it be said I never did anything for you, Hargrove,” He grumbles, eyes searching the road wildly.

He turns the corner off Cherry Lane, shaking his head.

“I mean, whatever. I didn’t like... jump in front of a monster. Though I did. For Max, I mean,” He tightens his hands on the wheel, “Whatever. You know what I mean.”

He glances down at the bong and the cologne.

He shakes his head, “You would think I was high already.”

The bong glints in the afternoon sunlight, reflecting the blue skies out the window and the slowly turning leaves.

“You know my birthday is tomorrow,” Steve says, to no one. “I guess I could have one smoke. Just to see what I’m missing.”

The sunlight glints, and it’s almost like a wink.

He’s going crazy, that’s the only explanation for why he heads home and takes the bong into his house instead of throwing it away. He dumps the old water in the sink, trying to take it apart so he can rinse it out. He might actually catch some kind of disease smoking out of this thing, considering Billy died in July and it’s halfway through January.

He shakes his head at himself, dunking the bong into the water and rubbing the side, trying to take off the film of hairspray and weed smoke that’s formed a crust along the sides. Probably he won’t smoke from it. It’s a lost cause.

The bong trembles in his hands and he rears back into the kitchen island, soapy water splashing everywhere. Blue smoke comes from the top, pale denim blue that swirls in the air and shifts and then...

Billy fucking Hargrove is sitting on the edge of his kitchen sink.

He looks much the same as he always did, shirtless, tanned and perfect with a necklace glinting from his chest. Winking in the sunlight.

“Harrington,” He says with a smile.

“H-holy shit.” Maybe Steve is high. How did he get this high and he doesn’t even remember smoking?

“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” Billy’s eyes sparkle, electric blue. Were they always that blue, glowingly blue? They look like Kyle McLaughlin’s eyes in that freaky movie Dustin dragged Steve to a few weeks ago.

“This is not happening,” Steve shakes his head, “This isn’t happening.”

Billy laughs, full and open, and then the blue smoke is back, smelling like Paco Rabanne and cigarettes and Aquanet, swirling through the air.

“What do you wish for, Pretty Boy?” Billy’s voice sounds like it’s coming from  right in Steve’s ear, but when he looks, the Billy on his counter is just smiling mischievously.

“Uhhh...”

Billy disappears and the smoke surrounds Steve. He clings to the countertop, the only thing that feels solid. Smoke slides along his face and arms, like a caress.

“Make a wish,” Billy’s voice beacons, “Birthday Boy.”

“I-if I blow hard enough, will you disappear?” Steve mumbles, not sure what kind of weird dream this is.

“If you blow?” Billy whispers, his tongue sliding along his lower lip teasingly.

“What are you?”

“You’ve never heard of a genie? Djinn is more accurate,” Billy’s voice is behind him now, along the back of Steve’s neck, sending goosebumps down his spine. Billy hums and it takes Steve a few moments before he picks out the theme to I Dream of Jeannie. “Should I call you, Master?”

“It’s not real,” Steve half laughs, “You died. I saw you die.”

“Where did the body go, Harrington? Disappeared... like smoke...” Billy appears in front of him, sudden and solid, “Poof.”

“You’re not a genie, though,” Steve shakes his head, “They aren’t real.”

“Try me, Harrington,” Billy smiles, eyes blazing.

“Uh...” Steve blinks at Billy’s face, so very close. He’s had dreams like this. Billy Hargrove, close and within reach, kind and laughing and oh so kissable.

“Go on,” Billy’s chin juts forward, and its so much like Steve’s dreams, he gives in. Maybe it is a dream. A weird one, but one of his regular dreams.

“Is it a three wishes kind of deal?” He asks.

Billy shrugs, “Dunno. I came to in a van full of shouting Russians who shoved green liquid down my throat. And then smoke poured out of my mouth, my ears, my eyes, and I turned into... this. Tried to go home, get Max’s attention. But then I got sucked into that thing when I got too close.”

Steve stares at him, at his lips actually. Is it nighttime already, or is it just the smoke swirling around?

“S.S. Butterscotch,” He mumbles.

“What?”

“I want a scoop of Scoops Ahoy S. S. Butterscotch,” Steve chokes, “Haven’t had it since the mall... uh...”

Billy puts a hand behind his back and winks at Steve, sending an electric bolt of lust down his spine.

“Your wish is my command,” Billy pulls his hand out and there’s a waffle cone stacked with a single scoop of S. S. Butterscotch, as smooth and round as if Steve had done it himself.

Billy raises it up to Steve’s lips, his eyes going dark and cloudy blue when Steve licks along the top. A shiver runs down his spine from the top of his head, making his knees weak.

“Oh, Harrington. You don’t know what you put me through,” Billy smiles, “Never thought I’d see you again. Never.”

Steve blinks, his mouth swirling with the flavor he’s been craving since Starcourt.

Steve finally manages to dig his claws out of the counter and reaches out, knocking the cone to the side. Well, it’s his dream. He might as well get to do what he wants.

Billy Hargrove tastes like woodsmoke and butterscotch and he groans into Steve’s mouth like he’s real, like he’s oh so human again.

Blue smoke trails up Steve’s spine like a featherlight touch, and he trembles, falling forward, hands digging into Billy’s hair. He’s always dreamed about boys and girls, he’s always had a lot of sex dreams, but they never felt like this.

Billy’s chest is warm, though there’s no heartbeat. But his tongue is wet and wicked and alive, and tendrils of smoke are curling against Steve’s overheated skin while Billy’s fingers dig into his hips. Holy shit.

Steve groans when Billy begins to slowly drag his hands to the placket of Steve’s jeans, teasing along the buttons. His tongue is teasing the inside of Steve’s lips, turning all of his thoughts to liquid lust.

Then Billy disappears into smoke and laughter, and invisible hands trail along Steve’s cock, under his jeans... through his jeans...

“Oh fuck,” Steve gasps, hips working. “Don’t stop.”

“Feel good?” Billy’s voice is somewhere on the ceiling.

“Fuck, yes, B-Billy... fuck...”

“Wanna make you feel so good,” Billy says softly, his voice crackling like a flame, “Wanna make you cream your jeans.”

Steve is embarrassingly close to that already, “R-Revenge?”

“For all the times you turned me on in class? No. But good guess,” Billy practically purrs when a smoky finger flicks the head of Steve’s cock and Steve cries out.

Steve gasps, “T-then...”

“Haven’t touched anyone in six months,” Billy laughs, and it echoes off all the polished surfaces of the Harrington’s pristine kitchen. “And you’re so touchable.”

Steve closes his eyes before they roll back in his head and makes an inarticulate noise, “Fuck, Billy... I’m... I’m... g-gonna...”

Billy’s corporeal in a moment, hand pressed over the invisible fingers, pressing Steve’s cock hard into his stomach, a kiss to the corner of his mouth, “Come on, Pretty Boy. Get there.”

Steve’s orgasm bursts through him like a wildfire, and he screams into Billy’s shoulder, pressing his mouth against flexing muscle in a vain attempt to silence himself. Blood roars in his ears and he passes out into Billy’s waiting arms. He half expects to go right through them, but they catch him, sure and steady.

When he wakes up, his eyes are blurry and his body is blissed out, floating like it hasn’t since Starcourt. He sits up in his bed and looks around the room but there’s no one there.

Oh shit. It really was a dream. He bites down the bitterness and looks down at the bed beside him.

It’s the bong, gleaming and blue, glass colors swirled together like smoke. The morning light glints off the edge. Like a wink.

“Good morning, pretty boy,” The voice rumbles through the room and Steve closes his eyes. Wishes he was dreaming.

[mmaeeve]

daily dean quote #153/366:

“there’s no place like home…”

- season 2, episode 2, what is and what should never be

[creamybunnystudio]

Drawing a weird OC! Still thinking about the name...

[sweetonsugden]

I was watching S2x20 of my rewatch - “What Is And Should Never Be” and I found it so interesting that in the Djinn wish, Dean and Sam weren’t close. I did a search and this came up.

Would love to know people’s thoughts.