Episode 1x02 - Wishes Come True Who: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester (Djinn), Mary Winchester (Djinn), John Winchester (Djinn) When: Same Time As Drinking Djinn What:Dean finds himself in his own personal Heaven. Where: Lawrence, Kansas
Dean sat straight up, the blankets falling away. He was still fully dressed, shoes in all, in a bed that was much too comfortable to be the normal motel fare. He tried to remember what happened, but it was all pretty blurry. He just remembered weird ass tattoo guy, and fire coming out of his hand, and then that whole not being concious thing. Glancing around, he could not quite believe where he found himself. He was in a bedroom- a nice bedroom, with a good tv and everything, not even a hotel room, with some hot chick sound asleep on the other side of the bed. Very carefully, trying not to wake her, he got out of bed, creeping to the bedroom door and out. He pulled out his cell phone, punching Sam's speed dial number quickly while making a quiet round of the house. Sam jumps, startled at the sound of his phone in the perfect silence of his room (Jess knows he likes it quiet when he studies). When he sees Dean's number, he raises an eyebrow, but answers. "Hello?" "Sam? Where are you? I don't know where I am." He speaks in a hushed tone, afraid whoever it is in that bed- voodoo queen, or who knows what else - will hear him and wake up. The rest of the house is quiet, and everything seems normal. Almost too normal. Sam rubs a hand over his face with a sigh; this happens far too much for his liking. "Well, where does it look like you are? Did you go out drinking again?" "No! I was hunting and that thing got me. I woke up in some house next to some hot chick." He glances out the windows, but nothing looks familiar. "... you mean Carmen?" Wow, okay, way too much to drink. "What -- you were out hunting? What were you hunting?" "Carmen?" Dean responds, confused. "The thing that's been kidnapping people. You know, the job?" He scowls at nothing in particular, irritated. "I'm telling you, that thing was no ghost. I have no idea what it was, but it was sneaky sucker." "Dean -- I have no idea what you're talking about. I'm studying for my exams." He sighs and rubs at his forehead. "How much have you had to drink tonight?" "Exams? What the hell are you talking about? I haven't been drinking!" He nearly yells the last bit, but tries to calm himself down quickly. "Look, Sam, stop screwing around. I need your help." "Help with what? Yes, exams. I have exams the week after I get back, I'm trying to get some studying done before I leave tomorrow. Listen just -- go to bed. You'll feel better in the morning." "Leave? Wait, what? What are you smoking?" He has to take the phone away from his ear to stare at it, before putting it back. "Look, I was in some ruins just off the highway- old warehouse. It's about fifteen miles from the motel. Get a car and try and find it." "... yeah, I'll be there in a few. California's a little further away from Kansas than that, Dean. What motel were you staying in?" He groans and shakes his head, "Please -- please don't tell me you found some girl and took her to a motel. Carmen's a really great girl, don't fuck it up?" "California? What the hell, Sam, we're in Illinois." Well, at least, they were. He frowns, walking into the kitchen and noticing a stack of mail. That will tell him where he is. He hurries over, pawing through the envelopes. Carmen, Carmen- Dean. All addressed to Lawrence, Kansas. "...except that I'm in Kansas. Why am I in Kansas?" Why is there mail addressed to him? Who is Carmen? Sleephead in there? This is making his head hurt. "Because you live in Kansas. With Carmen, your girlfriend. And I'm coming down with Jess tomorrow, for Mom's birthday. What planet have you been living on, Dean?" "Mom's- whoa whoa, what? Say that again." This is nuts. He starts noticing the pictures, pictures of him in places he has never been before, with people he does not recognize. "What's going on?" he asks, not really sure who he is talking to. "... Mom's birthday. Is tomorrow. Don't tell me you forgot. Do you need me to pick up a present so you can say it's from you, or something?" Maybe someday, Dean will get his act together. Today is not that day, tomorrow's not looking good either. "Mom-" His voice falters as he sees a picture, another he has never seen before, with his mother's smiling face, right next to his father's. "- I'll call you back." He cannot seem to get his throat to work right. "... okay. I'll see you tomorrow, alright? Get some sleep." For once, this doesn't sound like a drunken ramble. Dean sounds genuinely upset, which makes Sam genuinely worried. "Yeah, whatever." He steps towards the picture, touching it as if he does not believe it is really real, almost forgetting that he has Sam on the phone. "... bye, Dean." Sam hangs up, not really sure what to make of the strange call.
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Dean closes the phone slowly, before a sudden need to know takes him over. He runs for the front door, no longer caring about being quiet, or really anything in the way. He bursts out the front door, and there, perfectly reliable, is the Impala. He does not even pause to shut the front door, sliding into the driver's seat and reving up the engine, tires squealing as he pulls out and hits the gas. It takes him a few minutes to find a road he recognizes, but from there everything comes together, one line leading to another until he skids to a stop outside of the house he once lived. He is out of the car in a heartbeat, racing to the front door and pounding on it like someone might take this chance away if he is too slow. Mary shoves at John's shoulder, but John grumbles and burrows further under the covers. She sighs, slipping out of bed and pulling on her robe to go downstairs. When she opens the door, she's a little startled to see her son standing there. "Dean? What's the matter -- it's three in the morning, are you okay?" "Mom." Dean's knees go weak, and he can barely stand. He saw the pictures, but- he never expected it to be real, those sort of things did not happen, things like this did not happen, she could not be real, just a vision or a trick or- he has his arms around her, holding her tightly anyway, breathing in the scent of her hair, her skin, anything. She is warm against his chest, and she feels real, as real and as alive as anything in the world. He realizes dimly that he is about to cry, and can only blink away tears. "Well hi!" she laughs, surprised, wrapping her arms around Dean and kissing his cheek. "It's good to see you too? Don't -- stand on the doorstep, at least come inside." She's a little worried about what may have prompted a 3am visit from Dean, but... whatever it is, she and John can take care of it. Dean has to swallow, trying to keep himself together. He just nods, not trusting himself to speak, and steps in, closing the door behind him carefully. His mind is thinking holy water, silver, salt, but he cannot bring himself to even say the word 'Christo;' he does not want this moment to be ruined, this one, perfect moment, even if it turns out to be something hideous. As Mary ushers Dean over to the couch, John shuffles his way downstairs, tying his robe closed. "Mary? What's going on? ... what're you doing here, Dean, it's 3am." Mary shrugs in John's direction and sits next to Dean on the couch, arm around his shoulder. "Are you alright, love?" The sight of John nearly brings him to his knees. He stops where he is, staring at him blindly for a moment, before letting Mary lead him to a seat. He sinks down gratefully, as it keeps him from falling to the ground. He looks into Mary's face and then up into John's - God, John, seeing him is worse than seeing Mary, all that blocked emotion threatening to break free - and he cannot say anything, stunned speechless. He wants to gather both of them in his arms and hug them until he cannot breathe, and never, ever leave. "Dean..." Mary cups a hand over his cheek, brushing her thumb gently against his skin. "Tell me what's wrong. You look terrified. Did something happen?" John grumbles and goes to put on coffee, sensing a long night -- morning ahead of them. On Mary's birthday, too, of all days. That touch- he closes his eyes, leaning his head into her hand. "I'm- I'm fine," he finally manages, putting his hand over hers, savouring the warmth of her touch. "Just fine. You- and Dad- you're good?" She smiles and nods, wondering what could have gotten into him. "We're just fine. Excited to see everyone together tomorrow. You're skill coming with us to dinner, right? It wouldn't be my birthday without my angel." "'Course I am." He smiles, eyes overbright. "You're beautiful." He cannot help the words, because she is- so bright, and wonderful, and alive. She is everything he remembers, except that now he can touch her instead of just having a memory. Mary laughs softly and kisses his forehead. "Flatterer. Come into the kitchen, I hear your father making coffee." On cue, there's a bang and a grumble, and Mary rolls her eyes. "Come on, let's make sure he doesn't blow everything up. He cannot help but grin, his face lighting up like a little boy's. He gets up and helps her up as well, before hurrying into the kitchen, quickly taking whatever John is doing away from him before he does more damage. "Here, let me do that." John raises his eyebrows and shrugs, slumping into a chair, clearly not awake yet. He rubs at his eyes and yawns; he'll have to be sure to take a nap or something, later, or he'll be ridiculously grumpy at dinner. "What's up, Dean?" "Nothing, nothing- I'm- I'm great." He laughs to himself, putting the coffee on with efficient movements. He moves to look through the cabinets, trying to find mugs, clueless as to where anything is. "Mmkay," he nods, sleepily, as Mary gets mugs for everyone. "Not that I'm not happy whenever you visit, but next time, maybe wait until the sun is up?" She ruffles his hair affectionately, and goes to peek in the fridge, to see what she can offer. "I'm sorry, I am, I will." He finds sugar, at least, and sets it out. He figures his mom will like sugar; he takes his coffee dark like John, but Sammy likes it sweet, so he probably got that from her- "Are you hungry at all?" Mary asks over her shoulder, while John wraps his hands around his coffee mug, hunching over it as if trying to absorb the caffeine through the fumes. Auto mechanics don't have early hours. They don't need to be up at 3am. Mary doesn't mind, as much. She's in a good mood, and she likes to see Dean, make sure he's doing well. "Man, I'm starved." He grins, wandering around the kitchen with pointless energy, moving things and setting them back where they were, as if he wants to help but has no idea how to do it. He looks at John, and softens a bit. "You can go back to bed, Dad, I'm okay." John waves a hand, "M'up." "What would you like to eat, Dean? John, go back to bed, I think I've got things under control." She gently takes the coffee away from John and nudges his shoulder to get him moving. "I'll be up in a while." John nods and waves goodnight to Dean, then makes his way back upstairs the curl up in bed again."Anything," he says honestly, before amending, "You don't happen to have any pie, do you?" He smiles as he watches John go, calling a cheerful 'night!' after him. Mary gives Dean an amused look and takes the last piece of pie out from its hiding place, where she'd been saving it for Dean (John had his hand smacked a few times for trying to take it). "You know I do," she says, setting it in front of him and joining him at the kitchen table. Dean's face lights up again. "You're the best woman ever." Seriously, if she was not his mother, he might just ask her to marry him right now. He fishes for a fork, finding one in the dishwasher and sitting down to happily munch pie. Mary raises her eyebrows, a little confused but happy that Dean seems to be okay. "Could you not sleep? I know my birthday is very exciting, but you didn't have to come over so early," she teases. "Well-" He catches himself in a way he normally wouldn't, carefully finishing his chewing before he speaks. "I kind of had a weird night. And wanted to see you. And- anyway, your birthday, yeah- I kind of can't think of anything to get you. What do you want?" He has no idea what she likes, what her interests are, anything, and that stings a little when he thinks about it. "Sweetheart, you don't have to get me anything. We're all going out to dinner -- somewhere nice, and I'm going to see if I can convince your father to shave. So just show up in a suit and tie and I'll be happy." She rests her chin on her hands, smiling faintly. "I remember, when you were little, I had the worst time trying to get you to sleep the night before your birthday. Christmas, too. You were just so excited about it. And 'Santa won't come if you're not asleep' didn't work for you like it did for your brother." "But I want to. Please- just- tell me something you like and I'll figure it out from there." He is eager to please her, as eager as he ever was with John, maybe even more so because he has not had anything from her in years, not rejection or pride. He smiles at her memories, but it does not quite show through to his eyes. "Yeah, well- they were exciting times." "Alright..." She looks thoughtful, trying to come up with something. "Janis Joplin. I really like her music. Does that work, or should I keep thinking?" It's sweet, that Dean wants to do this for her. Dean grins brightly at her. "That's great. Just fine." He finishes off his pie and gets up to put it in the sink, feeling like he should mind his manners (he does have them, occasionally, despite what Sam might think) around her. "Does Carmen know you're here?" Mary asks, looking faintly concerned. "She's probably wondering where you wandered off to." "Oh- I- she was asleep." He shrugs awkwardly; it feels strange to lie to his mother, even though he lies everyday of his life. "Didn't want to bother her." "Call her first thing in the morning, will you? I don't want her to alert the police, or anything. Unless you're heading back tonight?" She reaches out to take his hand with a smile, squeezing his fingers gently. He clings to her hand, squeezing it tightly as if she might withdraw it at any moment. "I will. I'd- can I stay here? Please?" He did not want to leave, to give this up, not trusting this all to be here again if he did. "Of course you can. You know your room is always here for you." There's that faintly worried look, again. The one that has apparently been passed on to and perfected by Sam. Dean cannot help but reach out and touch her cheek at that. "Hey, don't give me that look. I'm fine." He wishes he could tell Sam these little things, how she drinks her coffee like him, how she wears that expression - he files them away to tell him sometime, if- he remembers the phone conversation, and a bit of worry crosses his own face, but he quickly smothers it. "Why don't you head up to bed? I'll clean up, here." She stands and hugs him tightly, kissing his cheek. "Mm, goodnight, love. Angels are watching over you." She smiles up at him, touching his cheek lightly before she pulls away to do the dishes and tidy up. Tears spring up in Dean's eyes despite himself. "Night, Mom." He says the words softly, before starting to move away, to find the spare bedroom. He stops at the kitchen door, looking back. "Mom? Can I ask you a question?" "Mm?" Mary glances back at Dean, pausing in her cleaning. "Of course you can." "Do you believe in miracles?" It feels funny saying it, because he never has, but this- he cannot see that it could be anything else, if there is any little bit of this that is actually real. ... well that's an odd question for three in the morning. "I guess so, yes. Why?" "Just- never believed in them. And now I think one's happened to me. Guess it's just hard to trust, you know?" He picks at the paint on the door frame, not looking up at her. "I'm sorry, you probably want to sleep." "If you need to talk, I'm more than happy to stay up with you." Dean's acting... strange. There's something just slightly off, that Mary can't quite put her finger on. Something a little odd. "No, it's- I can't explain it." You won't understand, is the unspoken part of that. "Sorry, I'm babbling. I'll go to bed now." He hesitates, looking back at her, looking slightly sad despite his happiness. "I love you, Mom." "I love you, too, Dean. Go get some sleep." She moves over to him and squeezes his shoulder, then chucks his chin affectionately. "I'll see you in the morning." He smiles at her, and, with one last look, makes himself go upstairs. having to peek through a few doors before finding one that looks like a guest bedroom. He is certain that he will not be able to sleep, but as soon as he gets his shoes off and flops on the bed, he is asleep.