Gemini (Supernatural Rewrite Sam x Reader x Dean)

Folsom Prison Blues

Home sweet home.

You almost can't believe it, but even after a year and a half away, the second you shove the key into the lock and hear it click back into place, the feeling is immediate; this is still home. The sound of kids laughing somewhere down the street, neighbors chatting in front yards, the familiar smell of the grass and pavement after sunset, it all rushes in like it never left. You glance over your shoulder to watch the yellow cab pull away from the curb, slowly winding out of view. And when it's finally gone, the silence that settles over the house is comforting. Peaceful. Yours.

You push open the door, the stale air inside greeting you with the dry scent of dust and laundry detergent. And yet, it still makes you smile.

You didn't think they'd convince you, but they did. After everything in Hollywood, with the demon still off the radar and Sam's visions going quiet, the boys were practically begging for a few days off. You hadn't had any leads in weeks. And then that call came out of nowhere, a childhood friend, one you'd nearly forgotten, found your number. Her voice was just the same: sweet and high-pitched with this bubbly kind of kindness that somehow hadn't dulled over the years. You'd barely gotten past the how-are-yous before she passed the phone to someone else. And then you heard it: a baby's squeal and Josh's voice, just as warm as you remember.

"Come on." he said, laughing in the background as the baby giggled. "You can stop traveling for a few days. The world won't fall apart without you, I promise."

They both knew what he meant. The hunting. The danger. The lies by omission. You didn't say anything, but somehow it was still understood. Maybe because you'd spent too much time surviving lately and not enough time remembering who you were outside of motel beds and rock salt.

You'd packed within the hour. Sam and Dean didn't argue. Part of you wished they would.

Kicking the door shut behind you, you wince when the chill hits your bones. The thermostat blinks in the hallway, everything's still working, at least. Josh must've come by like he promised. The water runs hot when you test the tap in the kitchen. You crank the heat a few notches and smile as the warmth hums to life in the vents. It's quiet. Too quiet, maybe. But good.

You head upstairs with your bags dragging behind you, legs stiff from the flight, body aching for a bed that isn't motel-firm and stained with god-knows-what. When you round the corner into your bedroom and spot your mattress, you let out an actual squeal. There it is. Your mattress. Your sheets. Your dust, your linen spray. You drop the bags without a second thought and collapse into the bed face-first, sinking into the memory foam like it's welcoming you home.

You pull the comforter around yourself, still faintly warm from sunlight through the windows earlier. And before you can even think about anything else, Sam's gentle encouragement, Dean's dumb jokes about needing a break, the hunt you're technically skipping, you're out cold.

-

The moment your feet touch the ground, you know it's not real, at least, not in the usual sense. The grass is too green. The sky glows like dusk and dawn at the same time. Air moves like water, slow and golden, everything tinged in warmth that shouldn't exist. You feel your whole soul pulled like a thread through a needle.

You're not sure what you expected.

But it wasn't both of them.

Sam is the first one you see, standing under a crooked tree with his arms crossed loosely over his chest. He's watching the sky shift like it's telling him something. He doesn't hear you right away. Dean is a few yards away, crouched beside an old muscle car, definitely not the Impala, but close. Familiar enough that your chest stings.