Gemini (Supernatural Rewrite Sam x Reader x Dean)

The Magnificent Seven

Dean hasn't looked at you since you got back. He's been cleaning the same hand gun for the past thirty minutes, knuckles white, eyes locked on the gunmetal like it's got the answers. Sam's on the bed, flipping through case notes you're not going to read. You're not hunting anything tonight. You're avoiding each other.

You can't take it anymore.

"So that's it?" You ask, quiet. Your voice still managing to slice through the silence. "You're not gonna say anything to me?"

Dean doesn't look up. "About what?"

You laugh. Bitter. "About the fact that I tried to make a deal for Sam and got told no. About the fact that I'm apparently some kind of demon princess and everyone's acting like it's just a quirky little character trait."

He slams the gun down, finally looking at you, and it's like staring into a storm. "You want me to congratulate you for trying? For being willing to crawl back to the thing that made you and beg like a dog?"

"Don't act like you wouldn't have done the same for Sam, oh wait, you did. You made the deal first, didn't you? Because God forbid anyone beat you to it."

"You think this is about who got there first?" he snarls, standing up so fast the chair screeches across the floor. "You think I give a damn about your ego right now?"

"I think you hate that I'm a reminder," You whisper. "Of what you traded for. Of what you're afraid Sam's turning into. Of what I already am."

Dean's mouth is a hard line. "You don't even know what you are."

"Neither do you," You snap. "But Bobby does, doesn't he? You called him. You asked. And what did he say, Dean? That I'm not doomed? That I'm worth keeping an eye on?"

He looks away, jaw tight.

"That's what I thought."

Sam finally speaks up from the bed, voice calm but trembling. "Can we just, can we stop fighting for one fucking second?"

You round on him. "Do you want to know what Gordon said? That you're a soldier in the coming war. That you're not human. That you're gonna be a killer. That I'm not the only freak in this room."

Dean flinches. Sam goes still.

"I know," Sam says quietly.

Everything stops.

"You what?" You breathe.

He stands slowly. "I know. I've known since I was a kid. I saw things. I felt different. And then... The demon fed me his blood. When I was six months old. Yellow Eyes showed me, at Cold Oak."

Dean's face goes white. "You knew. This whole time."

"I didn't know for sure until he showed me. But I felt it. And I didn't say anything because I didn't want to believe it was true."

"You should've said something," Dean says, voice low and lethal. "We're your family."

"So is she," Sam snaps, gesturing toward you. "And you treat her like she's one wrong move away from you putting a bullet in her skull."

"Because I don't know what she is!" Dean roars. "I don't know if she's gonna snap. I don't know if she's her anymore or if she's some monster wearing her skin!"

The room goes dead silent.

Your vision blurs for a second. Not from tears, but from fury. You close the space between you in a heartbeat, shoving him back against the wall with both hands. "Say that again."

He doesn't. He just stares at you. Breathing heavy. Shaking with it.

His back hits the wall with a thud, and the motel lamp flickers above you. For a second, You don't even recognize yourself. Your hands are balled in Dean's shirt, your breath shoving against his like you're sharing one set of lungs, and his eyes, green, furious, terrified, won't leave yours.