Dean Winchester was furious, and when he was furious don't even try to reason with him.
The first thing on his mind was to call their father, but then he knew what John would do once he found out Sam was hurt on Dean's watch. His second thought was to call Bobby, but then it would be his fourth time calling him during a case and Dean had to prove he could do things on his own. In the end he decided to just run into the warehouse and kill the son of a bitch, but he knew he shouldn't run in blind. He called the damn thing a Vamp-genie, who knows what this monster was capable of.
Dean hated this, he hated feeling like he didn't know what to do. Sam was always the brains and he was the brute force, but now Sam's in trouble and he was clueless.
He sat inside the Impala, eyes fixated on the road in front of him as he tightly gripped the wheel. He refrained himself from punching the car, his father had just given it to him for his 21st birthday, Dean rather shocked John would give the car away so easily.
His mind raced.
Sam was his responsibility; always has been and always will be. Dean didn't care if Sam was old enough to look after himself, his job was to keep him safe and to make sure he lives long enough to one day, maybe, have a normal life. John had drilled this into Dean ever since the fire in Lawrence. He constantly told Dean that Sam was his to protect and scolded him if his brother ever got hurt. Dean, of course, obeyed and protected Sam with every fibre in him. He had never complained once or asked questions about it ever since John decided to leave his children in ratty motel rooms in unfamiliar cities.
Dean always looked after Sam every minute of every hour. He would always make sure Sam was never alone unless he knew he was safe, he always slept with his hand hanging off the side of the bed so Sam could reach for him if he ever had a nightmare. Even when Sam told Dean that he was scared of something in his closet, he always checked it before they slept and watched as little Sammy smiled in relief that his brother was there to protect him. And yet every time John would return home, he would not even thank Dean for taking care of him.
Dean tried to think nothing of it. Sure it hurt him, just a little bit, that his father didn't appreciate the fact he once went two days without food just to give Sam enough, or that he was 10 years old when he first ran from police for stealing candy bars for him. So when Sam ran away to Flagstaff for two weeks under Dean's watch, of course John scolded and beat him.
Sam was Dean's responsibility, and he would not let some bitch of a monster take away his little brother.
He hadn't even noticed that his knuckles turned white from gripping the wheel too hard, or that the light had now turned green until the driver behind yelled at the him. Dean stomped on the gas and lurched forward, swerving in and out of the lanes until he reached the warehouse which Sam had mentioned.
He stared at the entrance, rage flared in his eyes as he reached for the .45 ACP and loaded a round of bullets. He ran head-on into the warehouse, insensible to what he was facing. All he knew was that his Sammy was in there, and he need him back. He could feel the eeriness which hung in the air as soon as he stepped foot onto the grounds, the deafening silence, the wind blowing softly against the plastic covers and the blood red paint that spilt on the ground made his skin crawl.
"Come on out you son of a bitch!" He yelled, the iron grip on his gun tightening even more. "You got something of mine. I'll be nice if you return him to me safely!" Dean suddenly fell silent and stopped in his tracks when the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He looked behind him slowly before coming face to face with the tattooed man and his glowing blue eyes. A smug grin curled on his lips and he huffed. "Honestly I was expecting something more scarier."
The Djinn tilted his head, sneering at him. "You're stupid to come here alone, Winchester."
"Well I believe you have my partner, can't really do much if I don't have him, can I?" "Oh you can join him, after you're in your little paradise and little Sammy is dead knowing you never came in time to save him." He started to circle around Dean who kept his eyes on him. "Just imagine what your father would think if he ever found out."
Dean's brows furrowed. "You know my entire family?" He questioned with a slight scoff. "Well if you know who we are we should at least know your name. Rivals should know each other, right?"
The other man hissed, hands curling into a fist at his sides. "Ezra." Dean huffed and unarmed himself, tucking his gun back into his belt.
"Well nice to meet you Ezra, I'm Dean. Now that we're acquainted how about you let my brother go, eh?"
Ezra snarled and lunged at Dean who dodged out of the way, his heart pounding quickly. He reached back for his gun and aimed it at him, the other man looked back at Dean before running towards the boy. He was too slow before Dean pulled the trigger. The Djinn fell back, the bullet striking just above his heart and he hit the ground hard. Dean walked over to him cautiously, his finger still hovering above the trigger as he looked down and nudged the unconscious body. That was almost too easy.
He heard a soft groan coming from behind and armed himself again as he whipped around. He looked back at Ezra lying on the ground before turning back to follow the noise. He pushed past a curtain of plastic and found the bodies strung up and unconscious. To his left he saw the man from the papers, James Morgan, deathly pale and muttering something inaudible. Then Dean turned to his right, his blood freezing suddenly when he saw-
"Sam..." He dropped his gun and ran to his brother, eyeing him all over; he wasn't paled up like the other, a fresh bruise on his face, a small gash of dried blood on the side of his head and his hair matted to his forehead with sweat. "Dammit Sammy, I'm always having to save your ass..."
Dean reached up above him, trying to untie the knots that bound Sam's wrists together. He felt a hard hand on his shoulder and was thrown back, away from his brother hitting the concrete wall. He groaned clutching the back of his head and felt a bit of blood stain his fingers. He blinked, looking up as Ezra wrapped his fingers around his neck and lifted him up against the wall. Dean struggled to breathe, feeling as the air escaped his lungs and the blood pulsing quickly.
"Too slow, Winchester," Ezra mocked and lifted his hand up to his face. Dean could see the tattoos swirling up to his fingertips and the blue glow that emitted from it. "You should know what kills a monster before going up against one."
He panicked.
Dean looked to the side with the corner of his eye, spotting the metal rod that leaned against the wall. He reached for it, stretching his arm out weakly as the oxygen started to cut from his brain. Ezra saw this and kicked the rod down, laughing as it clattered against the floor. "You think I'm going to let you win so easy, Dean?" He chuckled.'Dean gasped, gripping Ezra's wrist tightly as he tried to push the hand coming to his face.
Really he didn't know what to do. He wasn't as smart as Sam, he never really read the books on folklore and monsters, he just listened to John when he told Dean what was to kill and how. Then he thought: mind control. The Djinn's used their minds to read what a person's greatest wish is and conjured up that reality for them while they were in a trance. Without their mind, they won't be able to use their power.
"N- not at... all.." Dean pressed his hand against the man's head, pushing his thumbs into his eyes as hard as he could. The other man struggled and screamed, his grip around Dean's neck loosening as he yelled in pain and dropped him. Dean fell to the floor wheezing, coughing and gasping for air as he stumbled towards his gun. He reached it and tried to scramble up to his feet, but Ezra jumped on top of him and tackled him down. Dean struggled as the other pinned him down with his knees. The hunter slammed the butt of his gun against Ezra's forehead, making him drop to the floor with a thud. Dean sprung to his feet and aimed the gun at him, cocking the dog head.
"Your brother's not gonna be able to wake up without me," Ezra taunted.
Dean smirked. "We'll see about that." He pulled the trigger. "Sweet dreams, bitch." Dean staggered back as the bullet buried itself deep in the Djinn's skull, breathing heavily. He wiped the sweat of his forehead, pursing his lips before he went back to Sam and James.
He reached for his phone and dialled for 911. He managed to get Sam down from the ropes before he moved onto the other victim. "Hi, I need an ambulance at Central Avenue warehouse..." He heaved. He moved back to Sam, holding his brother's face as he checked for his pulse. 1...2...3... da-dum. Dean sighed in relief and smiled down softly, holding him protectively as he always used to.
"I got you, Sammy," he hushed and glared at the dead man that laid in front of him. "You'll be okay."
Hope you enjoyed it! Apologies the chapters are rather short, they will get longer I promise. Leave a review or like/follow if you're liking the story so far 3
