Alrighty! Next up in the writing challenge list is – drum roll please – fan fiction! Love it or hate it, I’m going to write some. Like the first challenge, these first drafts are the final drafts. Just keep that in mind. 😉
The melody of the rain on the car windows was melding with the tunes on the radio in a perfect rhythm; making it hard for Sam to keep his eyes open. They’d been on the same stretch of dark highway for three hours without a word between them. The week’s case had been chasing down what they thought was a run of the mill ghost. Only when they’d caught up to the creature did they realized they were actually dealing with a powerful possession. A rogue demon from Team Abaddon hiding from his king in Small Town USA. They’d dug up a grave, burned some bones, and then went ten rounds with the six foot four poet-turned-mixed-martial-artist the demon had taken control of. Sam hadn’t lasted long, and even with the extra fury The Mark provided, Dean had taken plenty of licks before subduing the demon to be exorcised. It’d made for a long four days. They’d left town as soon as they dropped the guy off at a hospital drive through – a poet once again.
“You know what I’m thinking about?” Dean asked, his voice full of gravel thanks to the exhaustion.
“Porn?” Sam answered with a grin.
“Not since the last exit,” his brother said with a shot to his arm. “Really though, I’ve been thinking about something. We have run into pretty much every monster anyone has ever written about. Hell, we even saw a guy killed by an imaginary unicorn. We’ve seen a lot of shit.”
“So, why haven’t any of us ever seen a genie?
“Because genies don’t exist.”
“That’s your answer? We’ve gone up against everything from vamps to naked little fairies, and your answer to genies is they don’t exist?”
“Not all folklore is real, Dean. Genies are a friendly version of things we have gone up against. A Crossroad demon, a Djinn, they’re both like genies. They grant wishes for a price.”
“No. I’m not talking about the monster versions. I want to know why we haven’t ever found a lamp with a little guy wearing Hammer Pants inside, ready to grant wishes. Not in all of the stuff dad stashed away, not in all of the artifacts the Men of Letters collected; no one has a magic lamp. I want to find a lamp.”
Sam laughed as the headlights from a passing car lit up the interior of the impala, highlighting the shiner and split lip his brother was sporting. He knew he didn’t look much better. “Are you saying that finding a lamp is the next case?”
“Why not? None of us are having any luck finding anything to help erase this stupid mark I’m stuck with. Let’s move on to something that could be fun.”
“What would you wish for?”
“Easy,” Dean answered without missing a beat. “A bank account that was never empty, for Baby to run forever, and the power to teleport.”
“You want to find a genie so you can make sure the Impala doesn’t need any maintenance?”
Dean shrugged. “And to be able to teleport. What’s wrong with that?”
“What about all the stuff we could make go away? What about wishing for the mark to be removed, or for Cass to get his grace back? Or, maybe getting mom and dad back? Or actually closing the gates of hell like we’ve almost died trying to do?” Sam couldn’t pull the frustration out of his voice. Even though the game was only a What If, that Dean wouldn’t even list anything to change their course was something he couldn’t handle.
“We did all that, Sammy. All of us got ourselves to where we are, and we don’t get to use magic to poof ourselves out of it.”
“We did it to ourselves? Even mom? She did it to herself?”
“Yeah, she did. I was there. She made that deal with Yellow Eyes to save dad, and when it came time for him to collect, she fought to protect us. Would I love to have had that be different? Hell yes. But it was the course she put into play that got us to where we are, and I don’t think she’d want us to take that back. She knows why we’re hunters. Same thing with Cass. Cass followed Metatron even though he questioned it. He took him at his word, and because of that he lost his grace. He will be the one that fights to get that back.”
“Me?” Dean laughed hollow. “I followed the friggin’ king of hell to a cabin in the woods and accepted Cain’s mark without a single question. I’m going to figure out how to deal with it, but it’s my mess to deal with. If I’m going to get three wishes I’m going to wish for something I can’t do myself.”
Sam pushed his bruised body into the seat and turned to watch the droplets race each other down the window. He knew his brother’s train of thought shouldn’t surprise him – and considering it was all a game it definitely shouldn’t piss him off – but it had all the same.
“What about you? What would you do if we found a magic lamp, Sammy?”
He could tell Dean was trying to bring the mood back to the light side but he couldn’t get there. “I’d make sure you didn’t get to make the wishes.”