Tangible Schizophrenia


Second Wish

Author: Guede Mazaka
Rating: G
Pairing: None. Gen.
Feedback: Good lines, typos, etc.
Disclaimer: Belongs to the WB and misc., which doesn’t include me.
Notes: Set sometime in season one. Djinn=genie.
Summary: Why they don’t have phone bills.


“You were…that was your sophomore year in college,” Dean said, eyes narrowed against the dusk glare that slanted in at them. He drummed his fingers on the wheel. “It was like this big black cotton-candy thing, and it came out of a really old…cabinet-thing.”

“No shiny lamp?” Sam put his hands on the edge of the seat and lifted himself up to get his legs as straight as possible. He still didn’t have enough room to fully stretch them and get rid of his growing cramp.

Dean wrinkled his nose. “That’s movies, man. In real life a djinn’ll take pretty much anything that can close up.” He glanced out the window so his expression was briefly hidden. “They aren’t so all-powerful, either. Can’t raise the dead, can’t keep you alive forever, can’t stop demons. Don’t know what’s happened since the last time they got out. And you get two wishes, not three. Kind of useless, really.”

Neither of them spoke for a moment, not wanting to really touch that. The bitterness of Dean’s voice just hung in the air, stifling like a Louisiana fog.

“So…” Sam finally started.

“Yeah, I don’t know. I mean, I can understand asking for information on the demon for the first one, but hell, if I’d woken up in time, I would’ve gone with having my baby never break down,” Dean said, giving the dashboard a loving pat. “Or, you know, an endless supply of ammo. But free cell phone coverage for life? I don’t know what Dad was thinking.”

“Well, it came in handy.” They kind of had an unspoken truce going, but Sam couldn’t help himself. “At least we can try to call, even if he never picks up.”

Dean shot him a dirty look, then turned back front. After a moment, he reached down and fiddled with the radio dial, but they still weren’t in range of any stations. “At least we never have to worry about not being able to do that. Maybe that’s what he thought.”

“Maybe,” Sam allowed. He still thought it was a pretty weak argument, but…so Dad did think about them once in a while. It didn’t help all that much, but they had so little to go on that even that looked like something.