Some Day

                                    

                                          
[Rayne]
                          
Being a hunter was not all fun and games...or rather, cases and chases. The majority of the time it was just driving from one town to another or spending night after uneventful night in identically ugly motel rooms.
                          
It also involved things like Dean and I fighting Sam for the best bed, or the three of us shoving each at other to get into the shower first. Playing rock paper scissors to see who would go pick up the fast food was also a daily routine, as well as wrestling over the TV remote.
                          
In other words, the life of a hunter was far from glamorous. And I only had two weeks left to enjoy it.
                          
We still hadn't heard anything from John, which I took to mean that he hadn't been able to find anything that could get me out of my deal with Azazel.
                          
Sam and Dean didn't know yet. I wasn't sure why I couldn't bring myself to tell them. Maybe because I didn't want Dean to feel guilty about the fact that I gave up my soul for his. Or maybe because I didn't want the brothers getting into one of their blind destructive frenzies where they would do anything to fix the situation.
                          
I decided I would tell them at the last possible minute; when they would have to realize that there was nothing to be done about it and that all we could do was spend one good last day together. 
                          
Having known the Winchesters for a while, that was not likely to happen — both of them being extremely angry with me was way more probable — but it was still better than having them feel as hopeless as I did for the next two weeks.
                          
There was still a chance that the angels would swoop in last second to save the day, but not having heard anything from them in almost a month, I wasn't about to hold my breath.
                          
We were still at the same motel that we checked into for the Djinn case, waiting it out till we found anything strange in the newspapers to chase after. All had been quiet for the last several days — which was a rarity — so we were all glad for the break.
                          
Dean was especially in need of it. Whatever the Djinn did to him really messed him up. He hadn't been willing to talk about it, so Sam and I left him alone in the hopes that he would come to one or both of us when he was ready.
                          
I was sitting on the carpet of the motel room, stretching after my run, while Dean was cleaning his weapons on the bed. Sam had left to grab a late dinner for us an hour earlier after losing at rock-paper-scissors. Not many words had been exchanged between his brother and I since then.
                          
We weren't fighting, and Dean wasn't mad at me or pissed at someone else; he was just...quiet. Like he was thinking intently about something. Or maybe remembering someone.
                          
I knew that Djinns used poison on their victims to make them think that they were living in their ideal universe while they fed on their blood. They were able to read a person's mind to learn their deepest desires and then create an alternate reality using those wishes.
                          
And if Dean was in a reality where his deepest desires came true, that most likely meant that his mom was there. And if his mom was there, then I didn't blame him for being as reserved as he was. I knew all too well how hard it was to leave a place where your loved ones were well and alive.
                          
Still, I was a bit curious as to what other things Dean's ultimate universe consisted of. Was I there? Were we together? I hoped someday soon he would share those things with me.
                          
The door opened and Sam walked in with a paper bag of food and a trey of drinks. The smell of French fries reached me instantly, and just like that, my stretching was forgotten. I got off the floor to take the food from his hands and set it on the small kitchen table. Unwrapping the bag, I stuck my hand in and pulled out a few fries.