Characters: middle sister!Reader, Dean, Sam, a djinn
Word Count: 3103
Summary: Requested by anonymous on Tumblr: Can you please do a oneshot where You and brother dean are constantly at each other's throats till he/or you get caught by a djin and get saved by the others and like you and Dean hug for the first time in over a year?
Warnings: estranged sibling angst, Lawrence house fire angst, John's A+ parenting angst
A/N: This is part two of two for this request.
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"What are we even looking for?" Sam asks.
You jog down the street toward the diner, eyes darting in every direction. "I don't know."
Even though he doesn't know either, he follows you all the way to the diner.
Seeing the neon sign on the building leaves the both of you at a loss, panting and panicking.
Thirteen years, a voice tugs at the back of your mind. You've lived without him for thirteen years. You can last another thirteen, if you even live that long.
At that thought, the same thought that justified staying away from them all these years, your breathing slows. He's not your responsibility.
You almost voice these thoughts to Sam, but when you drag your gaze up to him, he points to somewhere behind the diner.
You don't understand at first. The only thing back there is an empty lot and a few box trucks...
Box trucks. The wood particles. Travelling from state to state.
"Trucks like that," Sam voices, "they're lined with panels of wood, aren't they?"
You nod, starting toward them.
Four of the trucks have lined up behind the diner, only one of them unmarked. A padlock binds the handle of the door to the truck.
"Do you have a...?"
Before you finish your question, Sam has already unzipped a velvet case and pulls out two lock-picking instruments. By the time you prepare your knife, he has freed the lock.
He mouths a warning. One... two... He shoves the door upward, the hinges and rollers rattling. The tip of your blade meets nothing, but through the darkness, you can make out Dean's unconscious form lying on the floor at the very back of the container.
Sam's face pales, and he plows toward him, rocking the truck. You stay outside, only half of your attention on guarding the place. Instead, anxiety grips your heart as you watch Sam place his fingertips against Dean's neck.
He frowns, though you glimpse the relief in his eyes before he presses a hand to Dean's forehead. "He's hot."
