What Is

And

What Should Never Be

Disclaimer: The original part of this story is NOT MINE, and I DO NOT OWN the characters. They belong to Eric Kripke, and I plan on keeping it that way.

"I'll die. The Djinn will drain the life out of me in a couple day…"

"But in here, with us, it'll feel like years— like a lifetime. I promise. No more pain, no more fear. Just love and comfort and safety. Dean, stay with us. Get some rest."

"You don't have to worry about Sam anymore. You'll get to watch him live a full life."

"We can have a future together… have our own family. I love you, Dean. Please…"

"Why is it our job to save everyone? Haven't we done enough? I'm begging you… Give me the knife."

Dean Winchester stared from face to face, feeling his eyes growing moist from the turmoil he was suffering. There they all were: his mom, his brother, his sister-in-law to-be, the amazing love of his life. Pleading. Pleading with him to stay. In this perfect, happy life. This carefree, hunting-free, painless life.

This fake life.

It was appealing to Dean, in every sense. He could have a real family now. Without the pain of the loss of his mother. Without the burden of having to save all those souls from the evil that encased the world. It could all be perfect. It could all be happy… Dean looked into each face, almost feeling their pleads. Sam, his own brother, was close to tears, begging Dean with his eyes. Dean, his own eyes becoming misty, started to back up, inching the knife closer to himself. He began to raise it, knowing that he needed to get out. He had to go back. Just as Dean opened his mouth to apologize blankly to his family, raising the knife, ready to plunge it into his heart, he stopped. Sam's words rang ruthlessly in his ears: Why is it our job to save everyone? Haven't we done enough?

Dean stopped, the words impacting him strongly. Hadn't they done enough? Hadn't he, Dean, saved enough people? Hadn't he sacrificed enough? Yes. I have.

At once, Dean suddenly dropped the knife, barely hearing it clang against the concrete floor. Dean was paralyzed, realizing what he had done. He had chosen. He had chosen to stay. A wide smile of relief spread across Sam's face, and across Mary Winchester's face as well. Sam walked toward Dean, past Jessica and Carmen, and he embraced his brother who stood there, speechless. Mary walked up behind her youngest son, gently placing her hand on Dean's shoulder and giving him a warm smile. In the embrace of his brother, the gentleness of his mother's gaze, the smiles of his sister-in-law and his wonderful girlfriend, Dean felt a smile come to him. This was it. This was the life he wanted.

"Dean?" Sam's voice cried out, through the darkness as he saw a lone figure in the middle of the concrete room of the abandoned building. Sam rushed forward, knowing that he didn't have a lot of time. The Djinn could've already finished his brother off. When Sam stepped into the light finally, fearing what the figure was, he saw something that made his stomach churn. His brother Dean, was hanging from his limbs, an IV stuck in his neck, pumping a sort of venom into his brother's body. A small blood-filled sack hung above Dean, through which Sam knew blood was being drained through. His brother's blood. In an instant, Sam was at his brother's side, dropping his weapon.

"Dean! Dean!" he cried, grabbing his brother's shoulder, trying to revive him.

"Oh God," he said, "come on… Hey wake up! Wake up Dean!" Sam shook his brother, but he got no response. His brother's eyes only stared blankly at the other side of the room.

"Dean!" Sam cried again, but in the back of his mind he knew his brother wasn't going to wake up from his stupor. He had lost him.

"No!" Sam cried once more, and grabbed his knife to cut his brother free. But as he did, he heard a noise. A scuffling sound. In an instant, Sam turned, but he was too late. The Djinn was on him, growling menacingly. Sam felt the knife slip from his grasp and fall to the floor, clattering noisily. Sam reached out, trying to feel for something to hurt the Djinn with, but the Djinn was too strong. It grabbed Sam by the neck, its eyes wide, and it reached a hand down toward Sam's face. Sam watched in horror as the Djinn's hand turned an electrical blue, and Sam could feel the heat from it as it attempted to seduce Sam like it did Dean. Sam could only watch as the Djinn's hand reached his face, and touched his forehead. Sam cried out as an incredible pain overtook him, sending his eyes to the back of his head, and a wave of nausea swept over him. But as the Djinn did so, Sam suddenly thought of Dean— he had to save him. Whatever it took, Sam had to save his brother. With a cry of fury just as his consciousness threatened to leave him, Sam reached out, pushing against the Djinn. The Djinn seemed surprised— but just long enough for Sam to break free and fall to the floor weakly. Before Sam knew it, the Djinn was back at him, furious. But Sam was quick; he snatched up the knife on the floor, and just at the Djinn grabbed him, Sam swung around, twisting the knife up into the Djinn's torso. The Djinn's eyes widened as it felt the knife cut into its belly, and Sam felt warm blood seeping over his hands. Sam let go, ripping the knife out. He watched as the monster fell, its electric blue eyes fading as the life drained out of it. Sam watched until he saw that the monster was dead.

At last Sam made his way over to Dean again. His brother still had the same blank, misty look in his eyes, as if he was in a far-off land. Sam felt tears stinging at his eyes as he reached up, gently pulling the IV from his brother's neck. It pulled and stuck, but Sam pulled it out as best he could. He removed the other IV as well which was draining his brother's blood. When he had the tubes out of Dean's body, Sam finally reached up and tried to cut the ropes again. At last he cut through them, and he felt his brother fall forward, his weight pressing down on Sam. Sam gritted his teeth and supported his brother, trying not to let tears blur his vision. Sam pulled up on his brother, trying to support his brother's weight comfortably to transport him. Dean's deadweight seemed to press heavier and heavier on Sam as he made his way out to the Impala parked outside. The light was dim outside, and everything was cast in an eerie dark array. But Sam wasn't the least bit interested in the lighting outside. All he cared about was getting his brother fixed. At last Sam reached the Impala, and he reached into Dean's pocket to find the keys. But just as he felt his fingertips touch the keys, he heard a new sound. A scuffling sound. Then a harsh, awful, blood-curdling rattling of labored breathing broke the silence of the night. In shock, Sam turned around, and saw something he definitely didn't expect. There was the Djinn, making its way toward Sam, its face contorted in a sort of furious scowl, blood pouring from the wound in its stomach. Sam gasped, and he turned and dashed to the other side of the Impala. He opened the side door to the Impala, shoving Dean's limp body inside. It was all he could to keep from dropping his brother. Then, in a flash, Sam whipped around, pulling out his knife in defense. But when he did, the Djinn was gone. It was no where to be see. Curiously, but cautiously, Sam walked around the side of the Impala, his knife out and ready, dripping with the blood already on it. The silence of the night seemed deafening to Sam as he listened for the sound of the Djinn. After a number of minutes, Sam finally realized that it had to have been his imagination. Frowning, his heart still beating erratically, Sam turned around back to the Impala. As he did so though, he heard that awful noise again. And it was much closer this time. Once more Sam whipped around, but at the last second he realized that he was too late. Sam felt a hand wrap around his throat, and he glimpsed the ugly face of the Djinn before he closed his eyes in shock, gasping for breath. The Djinn's eyes were cold and menacing. It seemed to have the intention of just killing Sam. But instead, it once again reached up its hand to Sam's face, its hand glowing an electric blue again. Sam felt the heat of it, and then he felt the hand close tightly upon his head. Sam cried out as a searing pain shot through him again, and a wave of nausea ten times worse swept over him. Sam tried to push away, but there was nothing he could do. The Djinn seemed stronger than it was before.

"No….!" Sam tried to cry out, but he felt his strength leaving him. It was over. He was gone, just like his brother.

A sinister smile spread over the Djinn's face has it felt the consciousness slip from Sam, and Sam's head limped over to the side.

Suddenly Sam snapped his head back, opening his eyes, ready to fight off the Djinn again. But Sam stopped. Something wasn't right. He wasn't looking in the face of the Djinn. He wasn't even looking at a dim, star-less sky. He was look up at a light-coloured ceiling, brightly lit by a stream of sunlight. Sam also realized that the nausea was gone, and that he no longer felt any pain. But then, abruptly, Sam remembered his brother.

"Dean!" Sam cried, and he sat up suddenly. He stopped, when he noticed his surroundings— a bedroom. For a moment Sam stared around, taking in the new scenery. And then he went cold. This wasn't right. He had to get back to Dean, to the Djinn. He had to save his brother.

"Sam?" A voice suddenly called. Sam, started, jumped up from the bed he was lying on, ready for anything. But that voice… it sounded familiar.

"Sam, are you okay?" the same voice said, and someone walked into the room. Sam suddenly felt his body grow cold, and his eyes grew large. There, in the doorway of the room, stood Jessica. His Jessica. She smiled gently at him, though concern filled her eyes. Sam only stared. Jessica's smiled faded a little.

"Sam what's wrong?" she asked, and she walked over to him, looking up at him. Sam drew a breath, smelling the familiar scent of his girl, and he felt himself smile involuntarily. At that moment everything seemed to fade away. Dean, the warehouse, the Djinn. None of that mattered.

"Nothing's wrong," Sam finally said, his voice slightly hoarse, "just… a bad dream." Jessica smiled at him, and she slipped an arm around him.

"I made you breakfast Sam," she said gently, "just the way you like it." Sam smiled again. Nothing mattered. All he needed was right here.

Or so he thought.