MiniNaNoWriMo: ficlet 13
“I can’t believe the stuff Dad has stored in here,” Dean muttered over his shoulder to his brother.
“Yeah, I know,” Sam replied. “Soccer trophies and cursed objects shoved right between the landmines and the family photos.”
“I don’t even want to know whose coffin that is,” Dean said. “Hey - I dare you to open it!”
“What?! I’m not going to open it, it could be cursed or something.”
“What’s the matter Sammy, ‘fraid that a zombie’s gonna getcha?”
“Grow up Dean,” Sam rolled his eyes and continued to examine the contents of the shelves before him. “I wonder why he never told us about this place, or wrote about it in his journal?”
”Who knows? Dad wasn’t exactly the best at keepin’ us informed,” Dean shrugged. A stack of banker’s boxes hid the contents of the shelf behind them. “I wonder what’s in these,” he said as he reached up to pull a dusty box from the pile in front of him. It was heavier than he anticipated, and he stumbled a little, trying to find his balance before setting it on the ground.
“I’ll bet there’s a lot of things in here Bella would love to get her hands on,” Sam remarked. He blew dust off a pile of books, their titles in Latin, Greek and some squiggly script he couldn’t identify. Sanskrit maybe, or Arabic?
“Hey Sammy - check this out,” Dean said. Sam turned to look at the contents of the box Dean had opened.
“Are those…” Sam crouched down and sorted through the papers. “I can’t believe he actually kept any of these.” There was page after page of drawings rendered in a child’s wobbly hand, handmade cards, spelling tests and report cards belonging to both the Winchester boys.
Dean retrieved another box from the pile and opened it to discover old tax forms and bank statements. It was weird to think of his father ever willingly filing taxes and balancing his check book. He replaced the lid and shoved the box aside. It made him feel weird to think of his father living a civilian life.
Once the boxes were moved out of the way, he was able to get at the jumble of items stashed on the shelves. There was an old Coleman propane light, several stacks of books and glass bottles of all shapes and sizes. One in particular caught his attention, it was tall and thin and flared out at the base.
“This looks weird,” Dean said, carefully moved things aside so that he could reach one bottle in particular that caught his attention.
Sam stood to take a closer look. “It looks kind of like a brandy decanter or liqueur bottle.”
“It’s empty,” Dean mused, picking it up. He wiped the dirt and cobwebs off the container, trying to read the label. “Huh,” he chuckled. “It’s an old Jim Beam bottle. ‘Beam’s Choice Bourbon Whiskey.’”
“Do any of those other jars have stuff in them?” Sam asked.
“I don’t know,” Dean replied, shoving the Whiskey bottle back on the ledge. His phone rang and he answered it. “Hey Bobby, can you hold a sec? The reception sucks in here.” He turned to step out of the locker, bumping the shelving unit as he went.
The bump was enough to tip the bottle onto its side and it’s stopper slipped out. The bottle rolled backwards, stopping to rest against a box of candles. Neither Winchester noticed the wisps of smoke that seeped into the air and formed a pink column behind them.
“Thanks Bobby, we’ll be sure to check that out,” Dean said. “Yeah, you too. Bye.”
“What’s he got for us?” Sam asked as Dean flipped his phone shut. Before he could answer, they were interrupted by the sound of a woman moaning.
Both boys turned towards the noise and were shocked to discover a scantily clad blonde standing in the middle of the locker, stretching her limbs. She was barefoot, wearing sheer pink billowing pants with red accents. Her trim midriff was bare below a pink and red bikini top, covered by a sleeveless red vest. She had blonde hair swept into a ponytail, and a sheer pink facial scarf that hung under her chin and across her neck.
“Who the hell are you?” demanded Dean, reaching for the gun he kept tucked in his waistband.
Undaunted by the anger in his voice, the blonde stepped forward with a smile, placing one hand on either side of his face and leaned in to kiss him on the mouth. She pulled away with a giggle and a smile. “I am Jeannie.”
“Well, Jeannie,” Dean practically spat, his gun was out now, but not pointed at her. “How the hell did you get in here?”
“I’m not sure,” she answered. “I appear wherever the bottle is opened. I have no control over where the bottle goes.”
“The bottle?” Sam asked.
“Yes,” she said. “One of you opened my bottle. That one,” she announced, pointing at Dean. “He is my new master.”
“Is this some kind of joke?” Dean asked. “She’s kidding, right Sam?”
Sam and Dean shared a look of disbelief. Dean searched his brothers face, wondering if maybe he was having flashbacks from that time he took acid with Rosemary Peters in grade ten. Sam was looking pretty confused too, so that blew that theory out of the water.
“Let me get this straight,” Sam said slowly. “Your name is Jeannie, and you live in a bottle.”
”Yes, that is correct,” she smiled.
“I don’t believe it,” Dean groaned. “A genie?” She nodded. “A genie, named Jeannie, in a bottle.” Dean tucked his gun away and rubbed at his eyes. This was not happening.
“There’s a song about this, and I recall it says something about rubbing the bottle the right way or whatever, and I don’t remember rubbing any bottles,” Dean said, as if that would somehow clarify the situation and prove that there wasn’t a genie claiming he was her master standing right in front of him.
“Did you just quote Christina Aguilera?” Sam gasped.
“Shut up,” he barked in reply. “I think there’s more pressing issues here dude.”
Jeannie turned and looked around the locker for a moment, then pulled something off the shelf. “Here it is,” she said, brandishing the bourbon bottle. “See?”
“Great, Dad was keeping a freaking Djinn around in an unmarked bottle?” Dean groaned. “What the hell was he thinking?”
“Wait a minute,” Sam said. “I thought Djinn’s didn’t really live in bottles. That’s supposed to be a myth.”
“True,” Jeannie replied. “But, I’m not a Djinn.”
“No?”
“No, I’m a genie,” she continued. “I was a normal human girl who was turned into a genie by the Blue Djinn when I refused to marry him. Or maybe I was always a genie, and I simply refused to marry him and he trapped me away for over 2000 years. It’s been so long, I can’t remember, I usually switch the story up.”
“The Blue Djinn. Right.” Dean was reminded of his own recent encounter with a Djinn. Not pleasant. “So you’ve been trapped in a bourbon bottle for 2000 years?” he asked, ignoring the fact that bourbon probably didn’t even exist 2000 years ago.
“No,” she replied with a giggle. “It’s been… What year is it?”
“2007.” Dean informed her.
“Oh, pfft, this last stretch hasn’t been very long. It’s only been a little more than a decade.”
“Last stretch?” Sam asked. “You were released before?”
“Yes, I was free for about thirty years. It was 1965 I believe.”
“How did you get free the last time?” Sam asked.
“Captain Nelson found my bottle by accident. He freed me.”
“So what, you granted his three wishes and had to go back in the bottle?” Dean snorted.
“Oh, no!” She giggled again. “I don’t know where you get your ideas about genies Master.….?”
“Dean. I’m Dean. You don’t have to call me master,” he instructed, though his mind entertained some possible scenarios where he wouldn’t mind the hot blonde calling him by that name.
“And I’m his brother Sam,” Sam added, elbowing Dean to get his attention.
“Well, Master Dean. A genie can grant more than three wishes. Besides, Captain Nelson wouldn’t have ever put me back in the bottle. Not after he married me.”
“What?” Dean was baffled. Who was this Captain dude, and why did he marry a genie? He paused for a moment, looking at her toned body in the rather revealing costume, acknowledging there were more than a few reasons why man might want to marry her. Hell yeah.
“Captain Nelson, he found me and freed me from the Blue Djinn’s prison. Then we fell in love and he married me.”
“Okay,” both brothers responded.
“Where did he find you?” Sam asked.
“Well, when his rocket ship crashed on my island-“
“Wait… a rocket ship?” Dean asked incredulously.
“Yes, the Captain was an astronaut.”
“An astronaut? Right,” Dean said, glancing at Sam and twirling a finger near his ear, implying that this lady was nuts. Genie or no, this story sounded a little too farfetched. This sounded more like the work of a trickster.
“Yes. He was an astronaut. His rocket landed on my Island, and he found my bottle. He opened it, and I helped him get rescued,” she explained. “Then he brought me back to America, and rescued me.”
“So, how did you end up back in the bottle then?” Sam was having a hard time taking this woman seriously. She was unnaturally perky. It just wasn’t right.
“Well, genies do not age the same way humans do. Our friends were beginning to notice that I was still very youthful. After Captain Nelson passed away, I could not stay in our home,” she said sadly.
“One day, a man named John came to see me,” she explained. “He said he’d been tracking unusual occurrences and that he’d traced them back to me. Times when I’d used my magic I suppose.”
“John?” Sam clarified.
“Yes. The man John found me and tricked me back into my bottle,” she pouted. “I was so sad and lonely, thinking I’d never be free again, until today, when you boys released me,” she grinned enthusiastically. “Now Dean is my new master, and I must serve.”
“Alright,” Dean exclaimed, rubbing his hands together. “Could you get me a million bucks?”
“Wait, wait,” cried Sam, jabbing Dean in the side. “I really think we talk about this.” Dean regarded him with a blank expression. Sam rolled his eyes, sometimes Dean was totally clueless. “Alone,” Sam said through his teeth, giving his brother a pointed look.
“I will be waiting here for you,” Jeannie chirped, turning away to look at the various items on the shelves, creating the illusion of privacy.
“Man, this is sweet,” Dean grinned.
“No it isn’t,” Sam replied, glaring at him.
“What the hell is your problem Sammy? We’ve got a genie ready to do our bidding! Dude, it’s perfect.”
“No way! There’s always a catch to a genie’s magic. It never works out exactly right,” he warned. “Dad obviously kept her hidden away here for a reason.”
Dean rolled his eyes. “Jeez Sam, look at her,” he gestured towards her. “She’s a sweetheart. Bat-shit crazy, but harmless.” Sam glared at him. “Fine, forget the million dollars,” Dean sighed. “But what if she could help us in other ways?”
“Help us how exactly?”
“I dunno, isn’t there some little problem you’ve been trying to work out lately? Maybe she could do something for you.” Dean didn’t dare suggest Sam wish that the deal for his soul would be broken. He couldn’t risk it saying it out loud. However, he figured if Sam came to the conclusion on his own it wouldn’t count as him trying to weasel out of things.
“I hardly doubt that would work Dean. She’s clearly not a very powerful genie. She’s basically been using her powers to play house for the last 40 years. That’s hardly enough to take on a powerful demon.”
“Yeah, you’re right,” Dean conceded with a pout. “Still, couldn’t I ask for some extra-special pool hustling skills or something, maybe get us a little money? Anything?”
Sam leaned in close to his brother and grabbed his arm to emphasize his point. “Dean, we are not wishing for anything. First, we don’t know what the heck will happen, and second, we are not in the business of working with genies. Am I the only one who remembers what happened before? You were so convinced I was living such a great life with Jessica, you were actually willing to stay there and die.”
Dean saw the pain and hurt in his brother’s eyes. He knew Sam was right. It would be wrong to accept any of her wishes, no matter how nice it might be. “So what, we kill her?” he asked. “Do you have any lamb’s blood handy?”
“We’re not going to kill her,” Sam huffed.
“Then what are we going to do?”
“Leave this to me,” Sam released his grip on Dean’s arm. He put on what he hoped was a friendly smile and called Jeannie back over.
“Jeannie.”
“Yes Mr. Sam?”
“Can you tell us how John got you back in the bottle?”
“He told me he could remove the curse,” she explained.
“If he could do that, how come you’re still a genie?” Dean asked.
“Well, the cure was to kill me,” she frowned. “It was that or let him seal me in the bottle again. You can guess which I chose.”
Sam didn’t say anything, but he figured she got a pretty good deal. John Winchester didn’t make a habit of letting supernatural things survive.
“Wow, that’s harsh,” Dean said. It must suck being trapped by oneself indefinitely. If given the option, he figured he’d rather die. He wondered what Sam had planned, she probably wouldn’t go for the same stunt their father pulled, and they didn’t have much to offer her as an incentive. He didn’t envy her position.
“Would Dean and I be able make a wish now?” Sam asked, interrupting the silence that had settled between them.
“Certainly, whenever you’d like,” Jeannie said.
“Uh, how exactly does this work? I mean, does Dean have to say the wish or can I?”
“If Dean is willing to give me permission to grant your wish, that is okay.”
Dean nodded to say that it was fine by him.
“Do I just think the wish, or write it down or what?”
“It’s easy! You just say your wish out loud, and I will make it happen. It will be my pleasure to serve.”
“And you have to do whatever I wish for?” Sam clarified.
“Yes, as long as it is within my powers to do, I have to do it. It’s automatic,” she explained with a smile. “Well, provided it’s nothing sexual or going to harm or kill another person.”
“Great” Sam said. “Well, I’m ready when you are.”
Jeannie stood tall and crossed her arms in front of her, forearms pressed together, finger tips to elbows. She raised them up until they were level with her shoulders, chin high, poised for his command.
“I wish for Jeannie to be returned to her bottle immediately.”
A sad look washed over her face before she quickly bobbed her head once. With a zoing! she was dissolved once again into a column of pink smoke which flew back into the old Jim Beam bottle. The stopper replaced itself with a pop.
“I feel kinda bad,” Sam said.
“Me too,” Dean agreed.
“I’d have wished the curse away from her if I could have,” Sam admitted.
“There wasn’t anything else you could do,” Dean said.
“I guess not,” Sam conceded. “What should we do with her now?”
“I think we need to get some tape and seal that baby shut,” Dean suggested.
“Yeah, and lock her in a box, somewhere that Bella can’t find her.”
“Definitely,” Dean said. “Can you imagine how much trouble she could cause if she had a genie at her disposal?”
“I don’t even want to think about it,” Sam grimaced. “Although, with Jeannie’s perky mood, I’m betting sweet Bella couldn’t stand her for more than five minutes.”
“Good point,” Dean chuckled. “Maybe we should send her to Bella after all….”
Character from a TV Show: the boys accidentally freed Jeannie the preternaturally perky genie/housewife, as played by Barbara Eden on “I Dream of Jeannie.”
Words: 2731
A/N: I tried to stay pretty close to the canon of ‘Jeannie’, which was kind of tricky. For example, the joke Jeannie makes about switching her story up - both versions are true. The writers changed the way she came to be in the bottle between season 1 and 2.
The bottle used on the show was in fact a Jim Beam bottle as described. They painted theirs and took an exotic looking stopper from something else to make it look fancy. I’m pretending that Jeannie used her magic to disguise the bottle during her time with Captain Nelson. No one would tamper with a bottle in the bar, right? Sounds good to me.
I felt that Dean would know not to take advantage, but that he’d desperately want to. (Especially after his excitement at winnings that resulted from his brush with the lucky rabbit’s foot.) My guess is he’d be about money, food, girls, stuff for his car (like an eternal protection spell or cloaking device) before he’d think of practical things, unlike Sam. If I had a genie, I know what I’d wish for. I’ll give you a hint: it starts with J. J
For detailed pictures of the bottle and her costume, check out http://www.profilesinhistory.com/auctions/images/Auc7_350.jpg
