If the brothers got stuck in a djinn dream, what would their dreams be? Would it be different in the particular AUs?
It would certainly depend on the AU in question.
In Brothers Apart, Sam’s biggest issue is the fact that he blames himself for Mallory getting killed. Meanwhile, Dean wishes that Sam had never been cursed and definitely blames himself for not finding Sam before he was dragged from the room.
Every djinn dream would be different, and none of them would be perfect (djinn are so good at that). Like if Dean wished that he’d saved Sam in time, he might end up living in a different version AU… for instance, where he saves Sam at his own expense, or instead of leaving Sam behind, he’d see him and grab him.
Are stories like Brothers Saved and Brothers Together djinn dreams? Are we all in a djinn dream now?
Oh, hey. So I went back and looked in my old BA ideas, and apparently had a bit scripted out for Sam falling into a djinn dream, so have an old drabble!
It’s a bit short, but I like it.
“Dean!” Sam cries out, desperately running along the banister.
I have to reach him… have to help…
He almost doesn’t see the attack coming. A tattoo covered hand tries to sweep him from the railing and only misses when Sam dodges to the side at the last second. Another hand tries to snatch at him as Sam sees Dean rise up, using the distraction provided by his borrower-sized brother to grab the blood-soaked knife from where it fell during the struggle.
Even as Dean plunges his knife into the creature’s back, the fingers brush against Sam with an almost loving caress.
The world fades before he even realizes he’s falling.
“You haven’t had nightmares like this for years, Sam.” – Mallory in the dream.
“Jacob!” he shouted, searching for the teenager. “We’ve got a problem!”
The sharp concern in the small voice drew Jacob’s attention more than the words did. From across the room, even a shout from one of the smaller folk could be lost in the open air until their words melted together. The tone was more than enough for him to forget the salt line in progress by the window as he whirled around.
After so many months hunting with the downsized Winchester brothers, he was familiar with the routine. From setting up their room under the nightstand shelf (he’d had to clear out some cobwebs this time) to lining all entrances with salt, the room was ready to be a hunter’s home base. Including hunters that would fit in his pockets; Jacob had tried since he met them to remember their size and accommodate it.
That worry in Dean’s voice set off all the alarm bells he needed to switch gears. He didn’t have quite the same version of “hunter mode” as the brothers did, with their years of teamwork and training, but he was getting there. The salt was abandoned as he scanned the floor before taking the brisk steps over to where Dean was running.
He wouldn’t be running out to the middle of the floor like that if it wasn’t an emergency. Even with all the trust Jacob had worked to earn, that wasn’t safe.
Anticipating Dean’s plan, he knelt down and held out a hand with his fingers acting as an easy ramp to his palm. “What happened?” His voice was serious as he glanced at the opening Dean had all but jumped out of. Jacob could barely see it, but it was a doorway into the walls of the motel. Twisting black corridors filled with dust and dangers that the brothers knew well.
Things were off if Sam and Dean didn’t emerge together. “This the only entrance?”
Dean didn’t pause in his run until he’d dashed straight onto Jacob’s hand, motioning for the teenager to lift it off the ground.
Not bothering to hide how winded he was after the run through the walls, Dean surveyed the room from his high perch. “Didn’t see any others,” he said in a rush. “Sam won’t know another, and he’s got a rat on his tail. He’ll need backup.”
Sam and Dean Winchester have struck up a deal with Sherlock Holmes and John Watson. The brothers will offer their help solving cases, in return for living in the flat and sharing in the food John brings home.
This all sounds well and good, until it’s the Winchesters that end up needing Sherlock’s services for his next case…
And now, a special sneak peek of the story that begins January 2nd, 2019!
Dean gestured for Sherlock to give him a hand. “Well, what are we waiting for, then?”
Sherlock smirked and proffered a hand for Dean, smoothly ferrying the elder Winchester to his shoulder. With Dean settled, Sherlock turned to face the room, not entirely sure of what to expect. And for once, the uncertainty wasn’t irritating, but exciting.
“Where to, Winchester?” he queried, awaiting Dean’s instruction.
Dean was silent for a long moment. He very rarely tried to actively use the ability. Mostly it just happened. They needed food, and he would suddenly just know where to go. Questioning it when their lives depended on the ability seemed like looking a gift horse in the mouth.
As he focused, the prickles on the back of his neck began to grow more prominent. His surroundings dropped away. He no longer noticed the rhythmic cadence of a pulse that throbbed through Sherlock’s neck next to him, and the steady sound of breathing, air rushing in and out of Sherlock’s lungs, was gone. It was like he was standing next to Sam once more, trying to hurriedly clear his mind and listen to Sam’s constant litany of ‘advice’ for how to do it.
With focus came clarity, and Dean found himself pointing before he realized his hand was moving.
Psychic freak slipped into his mind and he angrily crushed the thought as he told Sherlock, “That way.”
Sherlock almost didn’t notice the tiny hand, but he frowned when he tracked its path with his eyes. Dean was pointing at the door out of the flat.
The detective’s steps were halting as he approached the door, confused about what Dean was supposed to be leading him to. At his right, John entered the main room from the kitchen, a biscuit in one hand and the morning paper in the other. John paused as he noticed Sherlock’s odd movements, eyeing his flatmate as he sank into his armchair.
Sherlock slowly wrapped his hand around the doorknob, wishing he could look at Dean questioningly.
Dean didn’t notice the odd looks John was shooting at the strange pair from his armchair, unknowingly placed beside the nook in the walls the brothers had chosen for their home. If Dean spared a thought for where it was placed, he imagined it was just about at John’s eye level while sitting.
But right now, his thoughts were all tied up with the feeling on the back of his neck. After years of stubbornly ignoring the ones that were out of reach, it seemed that giving it his full attention had brought it flooding around him, more important than anything else. He needed it, and this was his chance to finally see what, and where, the thing was that was pulling at him in London.
When Sherlock didn’t open the door, Dean felt his impatience come to the fore. “Well?” he burst out. “We’re doing this, right? Or was this just some test run?”
“Spiders are arachnids,” Sam absently corrected as he patted Rumsfeld’s nose and the dog slid down in the dirt until he was laying down with his chin flat against the ground for Sam to dismount. “They have eight legs, not six.”
For a moment, Logan thought Dean had shoved him into the exhaust pipe, a dark metal corridor that he wanted no part in. He could only imagine toxic smoke belching forth out of the dark to smother him. However, when he jolted to his feet and checked his hands, there was no grimy residue, only some dust. His frown deepened as he tried to figure out what the opening was even for.
“Are you kidding me? What if there is something that bites me all to shit?!” he called down.
“Just kick it!” came Dean’s not-so-helpful advice. “You’ve got boots, put ‘em to use!”
The entrance to Sam’s panic room remained intact and hidden, and it was Dean’s first place he wanted to check over. It needed to remain secured to the bottom of the underbelly while staying hidden, or it would lose its effectiveness.
Poking a finger in the entrance to make sure it was clear of any obstructions, Dean resolved to bug Sam later on to double check that no animals were roosting within. It would be a quick day’s work to pull off the tunnel and chase any birds or mice into the fields, and take care of any possible spiders.
With a grunt, Dean wiped down the outside of the pipe.