Pairing : Sam x genie!reader, Dean. John, Bobby.
Word count : 1,497
Written for : @spnfluffbingo
Square : Child AU
Warning : Weechesters. Sam is a sad panda, but it gets better. smidge of 'brotherly love’ aka arguing. Fluffy happy end.
A/N : Before anyone asks, I intend to eventually turn this into a series. Just not sure when right now. This was inspired by Shimmer & Shine, which airs on Treehouse TV (the channel my tv is on the most when we are trying to get the baby to sleep.)
SPN Fluff Bingo Masterlist.
Dropping to sit back on the couch, Sam sighed and played with the small trinket in his hands. “Why do I get my hopes up every year.” the eight year old shook his head. John had promised to be back by Christmas, just like every year. And just like every year, he wasn't. Sam sat in the motel room alone except for his sleeping older brother. When the dusty old bird themed wall clock chirped midnight, he let his head fall back. “Merry Christmas to me.”
He had found a necklace at some antique store in town. Leather rope tied with a knot, and hanging from it was a small bottle. ‘to grant your deepest wishes’ he had been told. Originally he had thought it was Djinn poison, but the top didn't open, and he couldn't hear anything inside when he shook it. He got it for his dad, but since John was a no show, maybe he'd give it to Dean, or keep it for next Christmas. “Yeah, maybe next year will be better.” he lied to himself.
He dangled the necklace over his face. and followed the bottle with his eyes. Left. Right. Left. Right. A small part of him was trying to kill time, hoping John would come through the door any minute. But mostly, he was just trying to tire his eyes enough to close and sleep.
Left. Right. Left. Right. Left.
Sighing again, he let his hand fall to his lap, the bottle nestled under his palm and against his thigh. He closed his eyes and moved his hand, letting the bottle roll against his palm.
“You're young.. but if you have my bottle, you must be my new master.”
Opening his eyes, they settled on you. Your long hair in a braid pulled over your right shoulder to hang down to your hip. The sheer pants, and small top were reminiscent of ‘I dream of Jeannie’ or something you would find a genie wearing in a children's book.
His legs begin to kick, trying to get purchase on the carpeted floor. Eventually they do, and he scrambles back and up the couch, falling over the back of it with a loud thump. When he hears laughter, he peeks over the back with wide eyes.
“You're funny.”
“Maybe it really was djinn poison…” he mumbles to himself. Maybe it's a part of the bottle and not in the bottle. That must be it. “this isn't real…”
You smile falls. “I am no djinn.” you sound insulted and hurt by it.
“Then who are you, and how did you get in here..” he looked around, none of the salt lines Dean had done before going to bed were broken. He couldn't smell sulphur either. “You're not a demon…”
“You brought me here. I'm a genie.”
“Genies aren't real.” he stood, but stayed behind the couch. “Djinn are what most people call genies.”
“I’m not a djinn.” you growled at him. “Djinn are..” you took a deep breath and clenched your jaw. “They grant one final wish and it comes with a heavy price. I do not.” you didn't know how much such a young child could know about djinn, so you kept it simple.
“So you're supposedly a genie? Do I get three wishes?”
“Yes.”
“And then what? Do I pass you along, or..”
“If you wish.”
“Can I wish for more wishes?”
“It would be a wasted wish.”
“Why? Because you can't grant it.. or…”
“Because you get three a day. You just need to wait until the next day. Why waste the wish.”
“Three a day?”
“Mhm.” you nod.
He watched you as you watched him, waiting. “How do I know you're real? How do I know this isn't a dream.”
“Make a wish. But be sure of what you wish for. It might not come how you expect.”
Biting his bottom lip, Sam thought of a simple wish that could be relatively risk free wish. “I wish…” he paused. “I wish to spend Christmas with family.”
You gave him a nod. “Boom Zarahmay,” you clapped your hands together. “First wish of the day.” he watched wide eyed as your hands came apart and as they moved, they left a trail of pink and blue sparkling in their wake. Had never seen anything so beautiful. And then it was gone.
He looked around the room, but nothing had changed. “Where's my wish…”
You gave him a smile and started towards the window. “Your brother is already here. The rest will come.”
A moment later, the phone rang and Sam jumped to pick it up before it woke Dean. “hello?”
“Hey son.” Sam looked up at you when he heard his father's voice. “Why aren't you sleeping? Can't sleep?”
“No. I was waiting up for..” Sam stopped himself. “I'm not sure what..”
“Sorry I'm not there, I know I promised.” he heard his father sigh. “Bobby’ll be there in a few hours to get ya. Christmas at his place this year so you boys aren't alone. I think he said something about gifts for you two? I'll be there by dinner. I promise, Sammy. I mean it this time.”
“Yeah, okay. I'll wake Dean and let him know.”
“Merry Christmas, Sammy. I didn't forget you boys. I'll see you soon.”
“Be careful, dad.” After hanging up he watched you for a minute. “Coincidence. That was just coincidence..”
You shrugged, not turning. “Maybe, maybe not.”
“Well, I need to wake up my brother.. how do-” suddenly you were gone, and when he looked down at the bottle, there was a slight pink and blue sparkle to it for a moment, and it stopped. “Alright..” Stuffing the necklace into his pocket, he went and climbed into the bed his brother slept in. “Dean.” he shook him. “Dean!”
“Huh?” Dean grumbled. “What, Sammy What?”
“Dad called. Bobby's on his way to get us. We gotta pack up.”
“Yeah, Yeah.. Five more minutes.” Dean turned his head away and started snoring again.
With a sigh, Sam got to work packing everything.
Sam stared out the window, watching the snow fall as Bobby drove. He was in the back, while Dean sat in the front chatting away. “So when’d you talk to dad?”
Bobby was quiet for a minute. “Ya know, I don’t remember talking to ‘im.” Bobby furrowed his brow, but kept his eyes on the road. “Strangest thing.”
“Dad called Sammy saying you were coming, so you must have spoken to him.”
“Yeah, must’ve. Probably ‘round when I was half asleep earlier. Been feeling a bit sick. Got a cold or som’in coming on.”
Dean shifted as far as he could away from him. “Keep it to yourself, man. I don’t want it.” He looked at Bobby with disgust.
“Oh, shoot son, and here was was getting ready to plant a big slobbery kiss on ya.” He laughed as Dean’s face contorted even more. “Relax, kid.”
Sam reached into his pocket and pulled the necklace out and looked at it. “It really was you, wasn’t it?”
“What’s that?” Sam glanced up and Bobby was looking at him in the rear view.
“Nothing. Talking to myself.” He tucked the necklace again again.
Dean rolled his eyes. “No wonder he has no friends.”
“I have no friends because your ugly mug scares them away.”
“You take that back!” Dean turned in his seat, glaring at his little brother who just stuck out his tongue.
“Boys! Not in the damn car!”
Bobby sent the boys to bed as soon as they got out of the car. But he stayed up, he had some things to finish up. He wrapped gifts he had bought for the boys, just in case they came around. He even set up an old artificial tree he had had packed away in the basement from long ago. It wasn’t perfect, but it was better than nothing.
When John walked in his door, shrugging off the bit of snow that had settled on his shoulders, Bobby spoke. “Why can’t I remember you calling me?”
“I don’t know..” He pulled off his jacket and moved in, letting his bag fall. “Where are the boys?”
“Bed. They were exhausted when we got here, and I figured it’d be nice to let them wake up to a real Christmas.”
John nodded. “Thanks for this, Bobby. And for sending the help so I could get home on time.”
Bobby turned. “I didn’t send anyone.”
“You sure? Phil showed up, said he got word I needed help so I could get home to my boys. I just figured-”
“John, I didn’t call anyone..”
“Huh…” John stood there for a moment, trying to figure out who else could have sent someone to help him. Had Dean called him knowing Sam was upset?
“Dad?” John looked up, and there stood Sam, star wars pjs, bed head and all.
“Hey Sammy. Told you I’d make it.” He smiled.
Sam smiled back. “Merry Christmas, Dad.”
“Merry Christmas, Sammy.”
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Pairing : Bobby x Crowley
Word count : 1,839
Originally posted under : Crowleysplaythings
Warnings : Blood, near death, Smuttish, Non/Dub-con
Square filled : Crobby
Written for @spnkinkbingo
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Bobby lay bloody and dying on the ground, hand clutching at his chest, trying to stop some of the bleeding as he hoped beyond hope his boys were okay. He had promised not to go off on his own, and he had broken it in a heartbeat when he heard someone in trouble.
But no one had been in trouble. It had been a trap. So here he was, gasping for breath and hoping they had at least been smart enough not to get fooled like he had.
“Well, well, well. What have we here?”
Bobby looked up at the demon standing by his head. He opened his mouth to speak, but all that came out was a gurgle, then he coughed up blood.
Crowley clicked his tongue a few times, with a shake of his head. “Should have listened to your boys, Singer. I take it you could use a bit of help?”
“Ar-” he coughed again, turning his head to the side as blood ran down his cheek. “Boys.. okay?” He barely got that much out, but if he was dying, he needed to know they were okay.
“Would you like to save them? They very well could die without you.” Crowley crouched down, tilting his head to look at Bobby.
“Dy-ing…” He clutched at his wound tighter.
“I can heal you. For a price. Remember?” Crowley smirked and stood.
Bobby watched him, breath heavy and his body shaking. He had lost so much blood already, he only had moments left. “Wh-w-”
Crowley simply held out his hand. Bobby’s eyes moved to the hand, and Crowley rolled his. “Just bloody take my hand if you want to save your boys, Singer.”
His hand ached, and he winced as he loosened his grip on his chest. His knuckles were sore as he stretched his fingers, his arm heavy as he raised it slowly. Crowley grasped his hand, and pulled him to his feet. “Th-thanks..”
“Looking better already.” Crowley pointed out. Bobby looked down, and the bleeding had stopped. So had the pain. He fidgeted with his shirt, and found the fatal wound gone. “You’re welcome.”
Bobby licked his lips before looking up at Crowley. “Let’s get this over with.” He grumbled, and prepared for a kiss.
Crowley shook his head. “This is much bigger than a kiss.”
“Then what do ya want?”
“Don’t worry, Singer. I’ll collect later.” He smiled, before turning and walking away. “Better hurry off to save Moose and Squirrel.” He called over his shoulder. “Before their souls become mine as well.”
Bobby grabbed his gun that had fallen from his grasp earlier, and took off running.
The door to the motel room was shoved open, the knob hitting the wall. Groaning, Bobby walked in, and slammed it shut behind him. Everything hurt, everything ached. He wished that just once, they had sprung for a motel with a hot tub. Dying took a lot out of you, even if you got healed up. And he wasn’t looking forward to what Crowley would ask for in return. He knew he’d make that deal again though, anything for those boys.
He barely kicked off his boots before collapsing on the bed, not caring that he was covered in drying blood, sweat and grime still. He lay there on his stomach, arms at his side as he stared off across the room. He knew he should shower, he knew it would help, but everything hurt. He didn’t think he’d make it that far. His eyes flicked to the bathroom door. “Five feet.” he mumbled to himself. “Five feet, then two more to the tub.” His eyes drifted closed instead.
He wasn’t sure how long he slept, or what had woken him, but he was awake, and figured he might as well finally shower. His head was facing the other way now, but other than that, he hadn’t moved. He winced through the ache as he brought his hands under his chest to push off the bed.
“I was enjoying the view.”
Furrowing his brow, he turned back the way he had been facing when he passed out. “Crowley?” The demon was sitting in a chair at the foot of the bed, drink in hand. “What are ya doing here?”
“I’m here to collect.” He raised his glass in a silent toast before drinking from it. “Stay down.”
“Like hell. I’m going ta shower.”
As Bobby started to push, and raise off the bed, Crowley used his powers to push him back down. “I said, stay down.”
Looking around as best he could, he noted his bag was way out of reach. “The boys are in the next room.” Bobby pointed out. “If I just yell-”
“They’ll never hear you.” Crowley smirked. “I have every intention of you getting loud, so I took precautions.” He shrugged slightly. “I’d save your breath.”
Bobby clenched his jaw. “This is low, even for you.” He snapped.
“I’m the King of Hell, Singer. Nothing is too low for me.” He waved the hand holding his glass, not spilling a drop, and the hunter’s jeans were now around his ankles. “Really, Singer.” Crowley’s eyes swept over his ass, down the hunter’s legs, then back up. “You couldn’t wear a pair without holes?”
“S’cuse me if I was busy fuckin’ dyin’ today.”
“I suppose I should just be pleased you didn’t soil yourself then.” Bobby couldn’t move, but it didn’t stop the death glare he shot the demon’s way. “Oh come now. I’ll go easy on you.. At first.” He grinned before standing.
He trailed a finger down Bobby’s thigh as he moved, laughing as Bobby tried to pull his leg away. “Ya really so bad in bed, ya gotta get it this way? Even I got better luck than that.”
“Maybe this is just more fun for me?” Crowley mused, walking up the other side, his fingers trailing up the other thigh. “Maybe it’s more fun for both of us.” He grabbed hold of Bobby’s boxer briefs and ripped them off.
“GODDAMN THAT HURT! YA STUPID IDJIT!”
Crowley laughed. “I do so love hearing your voice raised. What else will have that effect on you, my pet?”
“I ain’t you’re damned pet.” Bobby spat.
“Bobby, Bobby, Bobby. You are my pet.” He gave Bobby’s ass a slap that made the man flinch, then admired the hand print that began to form. “You’re my little lap pet. And believe me, Singer. By the end of the night, I’ll have you begging to be in my lap.” Crowley gave him another slap.
“Ain’t gonna happen.” Bobby growled.
Crowley chuckled. “We’ll see.” He put his glass to his lips, and finished his drink.
Crowley had been teasing Bobby for a bit. To Bobby, however, it seemed much longer. When Bobby went stone silent, Crowley slowly began upping his game. “You can’t stay silent forever, pet.”
Bobby just clenched his jaw in answer. He refused to give Crowley the satisfaction.
“Very well.” Crowley snapped his fingers.
Bobby waited, glancing around as best he could for some hint as to what would happen next. Nothing. Not a sound. Then he realized, he could move. He licked his lips, waiting a moment longer, anxious. Would Crowley really just leave?
Bobby pulled his knees under himself and pushed up, ready to get off the bed. As soon as he was on his hands and knees, however, CRACK! “Son of a bitch!” He dropped right back onto his stomach as his back stung from the leather strips.
“Made you talk.” Crowley grinned, before whipping him with the flogger again, but this time on Bobby’s already tender ass.
Bobby bunched a bit of blanket, shoving it in his mouth and bit down as hard as he could. His whole body tensing under Crowley’s deft hands.
“The silent treatment again, eh?” Crowley gave his neck a crack. “That’s fine. You won’t be silent for long. You and I both know you are enjoying this, Singer. Just submit.”
Bobby shook his head, flinching as the flogger hit the back of his thighs.
“Admit how much you love this.”
Bobby’s jaw clenched around the blanket, and shook his head.
“You forget just how much I know about you.” Crack. “And how much I hear.” Crack. “I can get in that pretty little head of yours, easily. Should I do that, Bobby? Should I root out every dirty little thing you think? Play out every fantasy for you?”
Bobby swallowed, a sheen of sweat covering him, his eyes fluttering closed now and then with the strikes.
“I wonder if you would enjoy the rack?” Crowley mused. “You seem to love this, though you won’t admit it.” He ran the leather strips over Bobby’s red striped skin. “I could put you up there, cage up that cock of yours, and whip you to your hearts content.”
Bobby couldn’t stop the shiver that ran up his spine.
Crowley stood in Bobby’s line of sight, letting the hunter see him strain against his trousers. “Why do you try to wound me with your silence? I’m only trying to give you what we both want. Would you prefer to keep your sexuality a secret? Dumb and Dumber in there wouldn’t judge. We both know how Dean’s eye wanders..” Crowley ran his fingers through Bobby’s hair. “But, if it would make you more comfortable, I will take on a woman for a meat suit. Did you burn your wife’s body, or just bury it?”
“Fuck you.” Bobby mumbled around what was in his mouth.
Crowley grinned. “No, Bobby. But I will be fucking you, like the little Bitch you are.”
Bobby stifled a groan as Crowley moved out of sight. Flinching as another strike fell across his ass.
“Red is your color, my pet.” Crowley’s voice was low as he had leaned over and whispered it into Bobby’s ear. He felt Crowley’s hand moving gently over his ass, and Bobby winced, sucking in air at the sting.
With a wave of his hand, two fingers extended and slightly apart, Bobby’s legs spread as much as the pants around his ankles would allow.
“What a sight.” Crowley moaned. Bobby jumped as fingers brushed over his balls. The fingers trailed up along his ass crack. “Are you sure you’re not enjoying this?” Crowley chuckled at the goosebumps on Bobby’s skin, and he leaned back to see Bobby’s face.
Bobby had his eyes shut tight as Crowley circled his puckered hole. “Very well.” His hand came away, and the flogger came down on the hunter again and again. Finally, Bobby cried out at the pain.
Grinning, Crowley put the flogger down, and gave a twist of his wrist, and Bobby found himself being turned over. “My, my…”
Bobby looked down in horror at the raging hardon he was sporting.
“So, Singer. Was it the flogging, the dirty talk, or the anticipation of what’s to come?”
“Please…” Bobby tried to shift his hips.
“Please what, Pet?”
“Please.” Bobby begged, finally surrendering. “Take me in your lap.”
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“Hey, Bobby?” Dean tossed his phone down as yet another person hung up on him at the mention of his father’s name. The older man looked up from his desk as Dean sat with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hand. “Any idea why everyone’s so pissed at Dad?” He knew John wasn’t easy to work with, but he figured people would at least care he had died.
“Erry’ones got their reasons.” Was all Bobby would say on the matter.
Sam sighed, hanging up his phone as well, and shaking his head at Dean. “Why were you so pissed at him?” Dean looked over.
“We ain’t getting into that, son.” Bobby got up, and walked out. “Beer?” He asked, quickly changing the subject.
“Hello?” Your phone had rang the second you got in the car, you were panting from running.
“Hey.. uh.. Y/N?”
“Yeah, who’s this? How’d you get this number?”
“My name’s Dean.. Dean Winchester. You don’t know me, but we found your number in my father’s phone-”
“John? He okay?”
“No.. he uh.. He died.”
That phone call had you rushing to a house you never thought you’d see again. A house you never thought you’d be welcome in again. Pulling up, you saw Bobby standing outside, and the boys off in the lot building a pyre. Taking a deep breath, you got out of your car. “Bobby-”
His jaw clenched instantly. “I didn’t invite you.” He was cold, very matter of fact. “You can stay for dinner, for those boys, but then you get the hell off my property.”
You looked down and nodded, he was still pissed, and it was understandable. You glanced up as he finished the beer in his hand, and headed in for another. Drunk, as always. You turned and went to sit on the hood of your car and waited. You weren’t welcome here, you only came to pay your respects to John.
You sat quietly for what felt like hours, but checking the time showed it had only been about 35 minutes, before the boys headed back towards the house. Bobby sat drinking and glaring the whole time, something the boys didn’t miss once they were done.
“You Y/N?” You looked up and nodded as he came over. “Dean.” He held out a hand. “That’s my brother Sammy.”
You smiled softly. “You look just like your dad.” He smiled a bit at that. “I’m sorry.” You swallowed.
Dean nodded. “Yeah. Me too..” He sighed.
“Dean!”
Dean looked back at his brother standing with Bobby. “Alright, let’s get this started.” He took a deep breath, steeling himself and turned to head to the house. You stopped him by taking his hand in yours, and giving it a squeeze. He smiled again, a small nod, and his hand slipped out of yours as he walked off.
You watched as the form that had once been John Winchester was taken over by flames. You bit into your bottom lip, trying to keep the tears from falling. You’d mourn on your own, doing it here would just make things worse. You felt like maybe you didn’t have the right to, not with them, not with Bobby. You shouldn’t have come.
Glancing up, Bobby just stood there, the pain was obvious, but it was masked by so much as well. Sniffling, you looked down and wiped off your cheek.
Sam glanced over from the other side of the Pyre where he and his brother stood with Bobby. He was curious, about you, about the obvious rift. He turned as Bobby walked away from the pyre, shooting you one last glare.
You were the last one standing by the fire. It was mostly ash, but you couldn’t bring yourself to move, not yet. Sam tried to get you to go in and eat, but you shook your head.
Then Dean came, handing you a beer. “Look like you need it. Come on.” You nodded, taking it from him and following him as the last embers died down.
Bobby and Sam were sitting on the porch drinking. Dean went up the steps to sit on the porch with them, but you stopped, leaning on the railing and drinking your beer.
“So, you knew our Dad?” Dean asked.
You nodded. “Yeah. I knew him.”
“You’re the only person who didn’t hang up on us when we called…”
“Sounds about right.” You answered quietly, downing a good half of the bottle. You knew where this conversation was going. Then he asked the question you dreaded answering.
“How’d you know him? We tried to ask Bobby, but-”
Biting your bottom lip, you looked down. “I use to date Bobby, long time ago.”
Sam’s eyebrows shot up, not expecting that. “What happened?”
Slamming his beer down, Bobby got up and stormed into the house, slamming the door behind him. You flinched at the sound, and a tear rolled down your cheek. “Your father happened.” You answered quietly.
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