Hey guys!! So it's been a while, huh?? Looks out her dorm room peephole. Doesn't look like you guys are too happy with me huh?

Sorry it took so long to get this last chapter up. With college and work, then being sick for the last week and bombing a big test, real life has been keeping me kind of busy.

But today, considering it's Thursday and there's a new episode tonight, I made myself sit down and write this chapter from beginning until end.

I also wanted to thank all of you that read and reviewed this story, it always makes me happy to find a review waiting for me.

So happy reading. (And after this I figure all stories with be done and edited before posting… so it's not so unfair for you guys.)

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Dean watched over Sam, trying to think back to all the lore he had read on Djinns and their victims. He couldn't think of any way to wake his brother, and the longer Sam was under, the more worried Dean got.

His brother was lax and unresponsive, his breathing shallow and his heart beating too fast. In a last ditch plan, Dean pulled out his phone and dialed Bobby's number, hoping that maybe the older hunter would know something he didn't about Djinns.

Keeping his attention steadied on his brother, Dean held the phone to his ear and waited for Bobby to pick up. Seeing a little spot of blood bubbled on Sam's neck, Dean reached out and wiped it away, not liking the brilliant red against Sam's pale skin.

Bobby answered the phone on the fourth ring with a gruffly spoken, "Yeah?"

"Bobby it's Dean," Dean spoke fast, a tinge of fear ringing in his tone. "Listen, I need to know anything you know about Djinns and their victims, how do you wake them up?" If he was being rude, Dean didn't register it, his only concern lingering on Sam.

"Dean what's goin' on?" Dean could hear the concern in the older man's voice and knew he could hear the fear in Dean's own.

"One of them got Sammy, Bobby, and I don't know how to wake him up. I killed the thing, but Sam's still lying here, dead to the world." At least the real world. He took a deep breath and added a broken, "I don't know what to do."

Dean heard the sharp intake of breath through the receiver, and the muttered curse about idgits that followed. He could almost feel the man's worry and frustration through the phone.

"All I know is that Sam has to get himself out of the wish himself. He has to be willing to leave and come back to real world on his own." The silence that followed Bobby's statement seemed to stretch, and Dean refocused his attention on Sam's lax face, mentally willing his brother to fight back against the Djinn and open his eyes.

C'mon little brother, come back.

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As Sam watched through the passenger side window, the scenery around him became familiar, and Sam unconsciously clenched the lamb blood coated knife harder.

When Dean threw him a questioning look, Sam only nodded that this was the right place and gripped the knife tighter.

Even as Dean pulled up to the warehouse and glided the Impala to a stop, Sam said nothing, just quietly undid his seatbelt and opened the door. As he stood, he could see Dean following his example and moments later they were at the entrance Sam had crept in days before.

As Sam crept down the familiar halls of the warehouse, the sense of unease and wrongness filled him once again. He could almost feel the evil and unnaturalness wafting off the Djinn that had trapped him in this world, and yet there seemed to be no trace of the creature in the building at all.

The looks Dean was giving him, burned into his back, searing concern and disbelief into his soul. He knew this Dean wasn't his, but it didn't stop the dull ache that settled in his chest from every look the older man threw at him when he thought Sam couldn't see it.

Dean; his Dean; had never been as distrustful of him as the one in this world seemed to be, and Sam didn't know if he could just take that fact in stride and keep going long enough to get him out of this world and back to his brother. It hurt to know that in his dream world his protector watched him with all the finesse of a night watchman at an asylum.

Dean had always been an ass but he had been a caring ass and he had never looked at Sam like he was mentally unstable. Like at any moment he expected a breakdown complete with rocking and screaming in the corner.

For all Sam's bitching and brooding, he couldn't wait to actually have Dean tease him about his hair, or his frou frou food. He couldn't wait for Dean to look at him call him a bitch and get on with life.

He couldn't wait to be rid of the suspicion and this world in general.

Drawing from his thoughts, Sam refocused on the task at hand and slid along walls toward the room where he had first seen the Djinn. Dean followed him, ready to have his back despite the suspicion and for that small fact Sam was grateful he was there with him.

A flash of movement had him backing behind a flight of rotten stairs, a clenched hand wound in the fabric of his brother's shirt, pulling the older man with him. Dean's startled yelp was muffled behind Sam's large hand, his hunter instincts flaring to life on high alert.

Through narrowed eyes, Sam watched a bald man (thing?) covered in tattoos saunter by him, his back hunched and a sinister grin marring his already ugly features. With growing dread, thoughts of the attack faltered him and he closed his eyes with a groan.

He could feel Dean's hand gripping his shoulder even as he opened his eyes to a look of worry, and it was all so familiar, Sam ached. Even in the real world when Dean was pissed at him, he would do anything for him, and seeing shades of that Dean in this one, physically hurt.

Shaking his head at his brother's concern, Sam pulled from the comforting hand and made his way after the Djinn, Dean following him closely. As he walked quietly into the room of his first meeting with the Djinn, Sam felt Dean tense and pull away.

"Sam I don't think this is a good idea." He heard Dean whisper from behind him. Sam turned and saw Dean's face swirl with indecision and fear. "Maybe we should just go home and forget this ever happened."

Sam stood for a minute, studying his brother before simply saying, "I don't think you or this world are real." Dean's expression took on one of incredulity.

He walked over to Sam and grabbed him by the shoulders, shaking him. "You feel that? I'm real! And that thing is going to come down and kill us for real!" He was breathing hard, and he gripped Sam's shoulder all the tighter, waiting for his brother to realize he was telling the truth.

"Well there's only one way to be sure." Sam pulled the knife between them, it's sharp blade directed at Dean's stomach. The older man took a breath and stepped back putting his hands up between them.

"Whoa! Whoa… Whoa-whoa! What are you doing?" Dean asked, keeping his eyes on the knife.

"It's an old wives tale," Sam answered calmly. "If you're about to die in a dream, you wake up."

"No, no, no-no! That's crazy alright?" Dean's gaze flickered from the knife to Sam's face then back again.

"Maybe," Sam pursed his lips.

"You're gonna kill yourself- okay!" Dean said backing up, as Sam advanced on him with the knife outstretched.

"Or I'm gonna wake up," Sam growled back. Dean's hands were held up placating, his eyes still trained on the knife as Sam continued, "One or the other."

"Look," Dean said drawing his hands together in front of him, and stepping forward. "This isn't a dream, alright? I'm here with you, now and you are about to kill yourself Sam." Dean was scared the waver in his tone making it clear.

Sam's face was hard even as he swallowed. "No," he said, "I'm pretty sure." Dean's jaw dropped and Sam eyes slid down for a second before adding, "like ninety percent sure, but I'm sure enough." With that Sam turned the knife around towards his own stomach and gripped it with both hands, ready to shove it forward.

"Wait!" Dean yelled, his tone losing some of it's scared quality and hardening into almost an order.

A figure dressed in white stepped from the shadows, a smaller figure at its side. Sam turned seeing Jess and Johnny standing there, and he faltered. He heard footsteps and looked up to see his mother join the group next to Dean. He swallowed and tightened his grip on the knife even as Dean started to speak.

"Why'd you have to keep digging?" He asked, "Why couldn't you just have left well enough alone?" His eyes were saddened and glazed as he looked at Sam. "You were happy," he added after a breath.

His mother stepped in front of him and his stomach clenched. He had never met his mother, barring the meeting with her spirit in Kansas, and as she gazed up at him, he almost slipped. "Put the knife down honey," she said slowly, comfortingly.

He watched her for a moment before shaking his head, "You're not real." He lifted his gaze and looked at every person in the room, "None of it is."

"It doesn't matter," his mother said, drawing his attention back to her. "It's still better than anything you had."

He searched her face, swallowing. "What?" He asked.

"It's everything you want. You have the love of your life and a son. You have a family again." She smiled, looking up into his eyes, "Let's go home."

"But I'll die," he said, shaking his head. "The Djinn will drain the life out of me in a couple of days."

"But in here with us, it'll feel like years." She said, trying to get him to understand her logic. "Like a lifetime," she added softly. Sam's eyes lifted to meet his brother's and she lightly turned his face back to her. "I promise."

His eyes watered even as she continued, "No more hurt, no more fear, just love, comfort, and safety." She ran her hand higher up to caress his cheek. "Sam," she said dropping her hand to run it down the seem of his coat, "stay with us." She again ran her hand up and over his head through his shaggy hair and whispered, "get some rest."

"You don't have to worry about hunting anymore, or any plans the demon has for you. All you have to do is take care of your son and watch him lead a full life." Jess said, stepping forward with a smile.

"And I get to be an uncle," Dean added, also stepping forward. "Have a family of my own, maybe." He swallowed. "Why is it our job to save everyone? Haven't we done enough?" His eyes watered and he took a breath and another step, "I'm begging you, give me the knife."

Sam stepped back and took a breath of his own. "I'm sorry," he said simply, pursing his lips and drawing breath through his nose. His brow furrowed even as he looked down and stabbed the knife. Just as the tip touched his stomach, the world jumped, and slid away.

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Dean started as Sam stirred and groaned in his lap. "Sam?" He asked, incredulously.

Sam's eyes slowly rolled open and then up to face Dean. "D'n?" His voice was hoarse, and his eyes hazy, but Dean had never been happier to see his brother.

"Yeah, little brother, it's me." Sam smiled a little then groaned and tried to push himself up. "Take it easy there Sam, I thought I lost you," Dean said quietly, even as he helped Sam into a sitting position.

"You almost did," Sam whispered back. They sat there for a minute in silence, the sound of their breathing the only sound in the room. "Hey Dean?"

"Yeah?" Dean asked, turning to face Sam.

"Can we get out of here? This place kind of gives me the creeps." Sam's embarrassment was clear with the red lining his otherwise pale cheeks.

"Yeah sure genie-boy, lets get you out of here." Dean stood and reached back down to pull Sam up.

"Genie-boy? Dean you're such a jerk." Sam groaned back, leaning his weight on his brother as they stumbled toward the entrance.

"Whatever, bitch." Dean shot back, the familiar nickname falling off his tongue with such ease that it made Sam smile.

END.

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So what did you think?? Push the purple button and let me know either way.

Take care,

DS