Pilot

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The gun was cold in her hands, heavier than she remembered. Genesis stood at the edge of a clearing—empty, vast, like the world had been swallowed whole by silence. Only her heartbeat echoed in her ears.

"Go ahead, sweetheart," Dean's voice drifted over her shoulder, but it was wrong. Too smooth, too distant. He wasn't standing beside her; he was somewhere in the shadows, watching. Always watching.

She raised the gun, her fingers trembling. The target was just a blur of red and white down the range, shifting like something alive. Her breath caught. She knew how to shoot—he'd taught her, hadn't he?

"Just pull the trigger, it's easy." His voice again, laced with something... darker. A hiss in the silence.

Genesis hesitated. She could feel Dean's presence, but it wasn't comforting like it used to be. Instead, it sent a shiver down her spine. The way he had looked at her when they were younger, that same charm, that same smirk—just like the serpent in the garden.

"Come on, Genesis." His voice was in her ear now, whispering, urging. "It's not so hard. Don't you want to be strong? To survive?"

The gun felt heavier in her hands. Too heavy. She couldn't aim. Her finger twitched on the trigger.

"Pull," Dean's voice demanded, almost venomous now, and before she could stop herself, her hand jerked, the sound of the shot echoing through the air.

The clearing shifted. The target... it wasn't a target anymore. It was her reflection. A mirror shattered from the impact, cracks spider-webbing across the glass as her own face stared back, eyes wide with fear.

And behind her reflection, in the glass, Dean smiled an evil smile.

Genesis jolted awake, heart pounding as though she'd just run miles. The suffocating quiet of her apartment settled around her, a stark contrast to the gunshots still echoing in her ears. Her hand instinctively reached out, brushing over the cool sheet beside her, but she was alone.

The nightmare clung to her, thick like fog—Dean's voice urging her to shoot, the weight of the gun in her trembling hands. Even now, the guilt lingered. She wasn't the same girl anymore. She had grown, changed. But why did it still feel like she was back there? In that field. With him.

She forced herself to sit up, drawing in a shaky breath as she wiped the cold sweat from her forehead. That nightmare... Why now? It had been years since she'd even thought about that night. About him.

Genesis pulled the blankets off, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed as the knot in her chest tightened. Her phone sat on the nightstand, glowing faintly in the dark. She reached for it, needing a distraction. Something to pull her out of her head. She unlocked the screen, and her brows furrowed.

Three missed calls.

Her heart skipped a beat. Two from her father, which didn't faze her. But one name stuck out, freezing her in place.

Dean Winchester.

Her throat tightened, fingers hovering over the screen. They hadn't spoken in two years, not since their last fight, not since she walked away from that life. Why the hell would he be calling now? She felt her stomach twist as her mind raced—was he in trouble? Or worse, had something happened to Sam?

A sharp chill crept up her spine, the nightmare resurfacing in flashes. Dean, standing behind her, voice low and coaxing her to pull the trigger. He'd always been like that—pushing her to do the impossible, to step over the line. Like the damn serpent in Eden, twisting the truth.

She shook her head, trying to shake the feeling off, but the unease stuck with her, clawing at the back of her mind. What the hell was he doing in her head again, and why now?

The screen dimmed, leaving her staring into the dark. Maybe it was nothing. Or maybe, this was just the beginning of something she couldn't ignore any longer.

She grabbed the phone off her night stand and flicked it open, the light illuminating the room once again. Her finger hovered over the call button, the cursor on Dean's contact. She pressed the button with hesitation, bringing the phone up to her ear. The phone rang three times before Dean's gruff voice broke the silence.

"Gen?"

A chill ran down her spine. "Dean?"

"Long time, no talk."

She closed her eyes, leaning against the wall for support. His voice stirred up memories she hadn't thought about in years. "Dean, it's three in the morning. You better have a damn good reason for calling me."

"I know, I know. And I know we haven't talked for a while, but I need your help."

She clenched her jaw. The old him, always reaching out in the dead of night. "It better be urgent if you're waking me up at three."

His voice dropped a notch. "I'm outside your apartment."

Genesis let out a long sigh, running a hand through her hair. Of course, he was. "I uh—wanted to call before I climbed through your window."

"You're a bastard, you know that?" she muttered, unable to stop a small smirk from pulling at her lips. "Ibn kalb."

"Still don't know what that means."

She peered through the window, catching sight of him standing outside, hands in his pockets, that familiar cocky grin on his face like no time had passed at all.

"Yeah, and you'll never know," she murmured.

Her pulse quickened as she left the window and headed to the front of the apartment, passing by salt-lined windows, red devil traps, crosses, and talismans she'd put up over the years. The protection she counted on every day. And here was Dean, barging back into her life, disturbing her peace just like old times.

When she made it to the door, she hesitated, her hand hovering over the chain. She hadn't seen him in so long, and there he was. Same Dean. Same damn grin.

She unhooked the chain, her phone still pressed to her ear. As she opened the door, there he was—Dean Winchester in the flesh, standing in the doorway with that infuriating smile.

"Hi," he said, his eyes scanning her like no time had passed, but for her, it felt like a lifetime.

"Hi," she whispered back, a mixture of nostalgia and frustration tightening her chest. He had a way of doing this—pulling her back in like he'd never left.

"You missed me?" she scoffed, stepping aside to let him in.

"In your dreams, Winchester."

Dean smirked, sliding past her. "You're always in my dreams, Al-Qadir."

She rolled her eyes, closing the door behind him. Of course, he was still full of himself. He made himself comfortable at her dining table, kicking his feet up in the chair next to him like he owned the place.

"You got a beer?"

"Sure," she muttered, making her way to the fridge. She grabbed two bottles of stout, popping the caps off with the wall-mounted opener. She handed one to him, knocking his feet off the chair with a swift nudge before sitting down and taking a long sip from her bottle.

Dean took the hint, though not without that signature grin of his. "Still a charmer, huh?"

She snorted, leaning back in her chair. "Don't push your luck."

Taking another sip, she set the beer down on the table, folding her hands together as her gaze sharpened. "Why are you really here, Dean? It's not just to see me again. Not after our fight."

He smiled, leaning back in his chair. "Nah, I just really wanted to see you."

She raised a brow, seeing right through him. His smile faltered, and his expression grew serious. "My dad... he went on a hunting trip, and he hasn't been home in a few days. I'm worried."

"Dean, he used to leave you at Bobby's for weeks sometimes. And now, all of a sudden, you're worried? He's probably just working overtime on a miller shift or something."

"No, Gen." He leaned forward, his tone lowering with urgency. "Just trust me. Something's wrong. I think... I think he's going after the thing that killed my mom."

"Okay, say I believe you." She folded her arms. "How exactly do you want me to help?"

Dean set his beer down, leaning in. "Glad you asked, 'cause we're gonna need all the help we can get. We're breaking out Sammy."

Her eyebrows shot up. "Dean, he's not a prisoner. He's going to college, just like I did. You know, if you really tried, you could—"

"Genesis."

She sighed. "Right, sorry. Fine, I'll help you. But I'm coming back here the minute we find John. I said I'd stop hunting, Dean. For good."

Dean smiled, the kind that reached his eyes and made her stomach flip despite herself. "Hunting's in your blood, Gen. You could never really give it up. Especially when you're with me."

She rolled her eyes, but a small smile tugged at her lips. "Don't flatter yourself, Winchester."

Finishing her beer in one swig, she stood up and made her way toward her room. "Give me five minutes. I'll grab my stuff."

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©️Fanofadifishman

Word Count: 1473

Translations:

Hayati -- My life (Arabic term of endearment)

Ibn Kalb - Son of a bitch

Allegra Speaks *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

Teehee, I love Genesis but the last time I published this fic, it just wasn't doing it for me, so I've decided to start over. I changed names, people, backstories (her mama is still dead unfortunately) but my favorite part is the biblical connections, especially in Genesis 3 where the Serpent convinces Eve to eat from the tree. That's also where I got her name.

Oh also Genesis is Arab, she speaks fluent arabic and has kind of an accent on her but it's not very strong. I KNOW IT"S STRANGE BECAUSE DEAN AND SAM ARE VERY VERY AMERICAN but please people, a little bit of diversity, I beg of you. Yes she'll teach Sam arabic, yes they'll talk shit about Dean, yes he'll always pronounce things wrong and that's okay.

And yes IF they have a child, it's going to have an arabic name, don't care if Dean wouldn't want that, too bad, the child will have his name as his middle name, we're going full Arab style. I also said if, it's too early to tell in the story if they'll even end up together, so I guess you guys have to read it to find out

Anyway enough rant, hope you guys like it. Don't be ghost readers!!!

Love Y'all,

Allegra 💙