Gemini (Supernatural Rewrite Sam x Reader x Dean)

What is and What Should Never Be

A/N: this chapter was the hardest thing i've ever had to write, it quite literally split my brain in half. i'm so sorry if it doesn't make sense lol. also, i'm sorry in advance, you'll know why. 😭

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You peek out through the thin motel curtains, fingers curled tight in the fabric as you press your face close enough to the window to watch the darkened parking lot. A cop car sits quietly outside, its lights spinning a lazy red and blue glow across the cracked pavement like a warning. Inside, Sam is hunched over a table scattered with books and notes, so deep in research he hasn't even noticed. But your heart's hammering in your chest.

You fumble for your phone and call Dean. It only rings three times before you hear his voice on the other end.

"There's a cop car outside," you blurt, your voice hushed but sharp with urgency. "It's been there for fifteen minutes."

Dean's voice goes a little more serious. "You think it's for us?"

"I don't know." You duck your head when you catch the movement of a shadow sweeping past the window. "But I'm not trying to find out. We ditched the plates, the credit cards..."

Dean exhales. "Yeah. Should be clean."

A few seconds later, you watch as two figures emerge from the other room and head back to the patrol car. You don't recognize them. Probably just motel security reporting something dumb. You breathe out when the car pulls away into the night.

"They're leaving. False alarm." You step back from the window and let the curtain fall closed.

Sam glances up and grins. "You're officially more paranoid than Dean."

"Shut it, Sasquatch," you mutter, even as the tension starts to bleed from your shoulders.

"See? Nothing to worry about," Dean says. You can hear the smirk in his voice. He's been patient with you. After the Henriksen stunt, after the forged confession and the wild, reckless escape, you've been jumpy as hell. And he hasn't called you out on it once. Not seriously, anyway.

"Being on the run with fugitives is a freaking dance party," you mutter to yourself.

Dean chuckles. "Hey. Give yourself some credit. What you pulled back there? That was badass. I didn't think you had it in you. It made me wanna be inside you."

Your cheeks heat. "In your dreams, Winchester."

He doesn't miss a beat. "Every damn night."

He laughs, low and pleased. You can't help it, you smile. Sam gives you a squinting look from across the bed like he's trying to decode whatever it is Dean just said to make you blush.

You change the subject. "So? Did you get anything?"

"Are you kidding me?" Dean huffs. "You guys got me digging through fifty square miles of real estate."

"Hang on, I'm putting you on speaker," you say, tapping the button and setting the phone on the bed between you and Sam. "Okay. That's where all the victims disappeared."

"Yeah, well, I got diddly-squat." Dean sounds exasperated. "What about you two?"

Sam leans forward, flipping through a worn hardcover. "Just one thing, I'm pretty sure of it now. We're hunting a djinn."

"A fucking djinn?" Dean repeats, incredulous. "You think these suckers can really grant wishes?"

"I mean, maybe," Sam says. "They're powerful. But not exactly like Barbara Eden in harem pants. Djinns feed off people. It's all over the Quran."