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I Dean of Genie	By : rae_roberts Category: Supernatural > AU - Alternate Universe Views: 2234 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own any rights to Supernatural, nor do I own any rights to either Disney's Aladdin or I Dream of Genie, which I have heavily ripped off for this fic. No money is being made from this silly little fic.

Chapter List
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Liz Anne thrashed and cursed as Sam tied her ankles together, working carefully so there wasn’t the slightest chance of hurting her. The former shapeshifter’s final wish was still in effect. The way she kept flailing and kicking at Sam, it was slow going.   “I got this,” Dean said, and silenced her with a blink and a gag conjured from thin air. Then he grabbed Liz Anne roughly and hogtied her, jerking the bindings tight. He wasn’t under any compulsion not to hurt her, after all. Not any more.
“So I guess since she’s human now we’ll put a call in to the police, let them deal with her,” Sam said, keeping his eyes averted.
Dean realized his brother was trying to spare his dignity. He was still undressed, his clothes in a pile at the foot of the bed where Liz Anne had made him strip for her. A blink, and they were back on where they belonged.   “Yeah. They’ll find her guilty of forgery, if nothing else. Good work following that clue,” he added, keeping his tone matter of fact.
“I got to you as fast as I could. Dean, I’m so sorry--”
“Don’t,” Dean cut him off. He could sense his guilt, his regret, and the sincere desire to talk things out that was so uniquely Sam. The need to make things right, but Dean resisted his brother’s will with a rough shake of his head. “Don’t, Sam. All I want right now is for you to wish us home.”
Sam nodded, his expression pained. “I wish to go back to the bunker.”
It was the familiar bliss of granting a wish, but Dean cringed as the feeling washed over him, a painful reminder of what Liz Anne had forced on him.
In an instant, they were back, Sam in his own bedroom and Dean in his, with the genie bottle safe on the shelf above his bed where he kept his weapons collection.   A blink, and Dean changed clothes, banishing the ones he’d been wearing in Denver, wishing himself clean. He swore softly when he finished. He could still taste Liz Anne on his tongue, could still imagine her legs wrapped around his waist, her twisted whims inside his mind, controlling him.
Dean strode into the bathroom and turned on the shower faucets, adjusting the temperature to near-scalding. He could sense his brother nearby in the bunker, could feel the tug of his concern, but Sammy could damn well cool his heels for a while.

Forty-five minutes later Dean emerged from his room, hair damp from the shower, polished metal genie cuffs visible below the rolled-up sleeves of his shirt, and a tumbler of whiskey in his hand.   The level of liquid in the glass remained the same, no matter how often he sipped from it, magically refilling itself. “All right, Sam, time for that third wish,” he said, maybe a bit too heartily, but hey, he could hope his brother would pick up on his need to put the incident with Liz Anne behind him.
“Look, you’re upset, I get it, but--”
“I’m not upset,” Dean cut Sam off with a roll of his eyes.
“Dean, what was going on in that motel room when I got there, that was assault. It’s okay to be upset about it! Anyone would be.”
“I’m not.” Dean gave a shrug. “I’ve been to hell, Sammy, remember? That thing that happened with”--he had to pause for a beat--”with her, that was nothing. Now, come on.” He clapped Sam on the shoulder, keeping up the hearty, callously cheerful act even though he knew Sam wasn’t buying it. “Get crackin’. Wish me free.”
“I’m sorry, but--”
“You’re sorry?” Dean growled. The careless facade cracked. “You’re tell me I can’t control myself, appoint yourself my keeper, and then what? You lose me! To a pair of freakin’ monsters! You’re so worried I’ll go Dark Side, Sammy, but it obviously never occurred to you how bad the shit could hit the fan if you lost me. Which you did!” he raged. “We’re just damn lucky those two shifters were too stupid to take full advantage.”
“I never thought anyone would try and steal the bottle,” Sam admitted, “but also, I never thought you wouldn’t be able to contact me if anything went wrong! Why didn’t you warn me?”
Dean deflated a little. Sam was right. The bottle looked like nothing but a gaudy piece of seventies junk. Who would believe it held a genie? And he’d been so confident of his power, so sure he could wish his way out of any harm… But the devious part of him quickly decided that Sam didn’t need to gain the upper hand in this argument. “I didn’t know,” Dean told him, putting a little catch in his voice. “I thought I could just, just wish you to my side. But I guess that’s against the rules… Calling your brother to fight your battles for you.” He gave a rueful chuckle, making light of it, and he could sense Sam’s anguish that he hadn’t been able to rush to his rescue.
“Once you lost my bottle and weren’t my Master any more, I lost all contact with you.   I had her inside my melon instead, gloating about how she’d bashed in your skull.   Sammy,   I didn’t even know if you were alive!”   Just a little twist of the proverbial knife, Dean thought.   The human part of him felt a twinge of conscience for taking advantage of his brother’s guilt, but the genie portion rationalized that Sam would feel better soon. Just as soon as he freed him.
“Okay, I’ll do it,” Sam said earnestly. “I’ll set you free.”
“You won’t regret it. I promise. You’ll see, Sam.   It’ll be just like it was before… But better,” Dean grinned.
“All I ever wanted was to get you back.” Sam took a deep breath. “Dean, I wish to set you free.”
Dean crossed his arms, taking a last look at the cuffs encircling his wrists, symbols of his imprisonment. He blinked and felt the familiar rush of delight. The intensity of it built and Dean flashed another grin at his brother. It was freedom…But the sensation went on, building and building until he doubled over in pain, overwhelmed by its power. Something was wrong. He was on fire inside, burning up.
“Dean!” Sam could see the light just beneath his brother’s skin, infernal flames flickering along the paths of his veins.
Dean couldn’t answer. The fire was consuming him, the pain unbearable. He threw back his head to scream, but no sound came out, only white light pouring from his mouth, bursting from his eye sockets as his eyes rolled back in his skull.

Sam stood frozen, arms reaching out uselessly, unable to help or even comprehend what was happening to his brother. He watched in horror as Dean’s body dissolved into smoke.
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I Dean of Genie