Supernatural Imagines

Taunted By The Devil Sam Winchester X Reader

Requested by KatieWeasley394 Thank you!

Back in season 6 with Luci, does not follow story line directly. This is at the bunker, instead of Bobby's.

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Soulless Sammy was not your favorite Sammy. But having a broken one was not either. When Death shoved the tortured, mutilated, dead excuse of a soul back in Sam, you knew there was no hope. Some people may have said there was light in even the darkest of places, but not this time. This dark place was Sam's soul. Where all the light had been fed to the overpowering darkness known as Lucifer. Lucifer played with his emotions, his memories, his life like child's play. He beat Sam's soul into smithereens, sadistically watching it blow away into nothing. Like the nothing he shaped Sam into.

There was no hope here. It had died a long time ago with Sam's happiness. So you quit believing. Quit believing it would get better, quit believing the young, playful Sam would emerge once again. But all you saw was dead, empty eyes. Yet, you couldn't tell if they were Sam's,

Or your own reflection.

"You get out of her bed right now! Dammit! I said now!"

You woke up to the sound of a cracked voice. You let your blurry vision follow that voice to the body. Sam was standing by your bed, gun in hand. His once alive eyes, bloodshot with agony. He pointed the gun at you, his grip, like the rest of him, was shaky and uncertain.

"Sam-? What are you-?" You rubbed your eyes, not surprised to see him up at 3 in the morning.

"Don't you ask me that again! What did you do you (Y/N)?! Answer me, Lucifer!" He yelled again.

"Sam, it's me, (Y/N), Lucifer is not in my bed!" You started to panic. You should never panic, though. The Winchester has held a gun to your head on more than one occasion. But that didn't help calm the nerves.

"Quit lying to me, did you kill (Y/N)?" He asked, his face twisted into anger.

You stood up slowly, arms raised. You took a deep breath and walked over to him. This was not always the smartest or safest thing to do, but it had to be done.

"Look at me Sam. He, is not real." You grabbed his wounded hand, and pressed firmly into the gash. "But I am, I am more real than any of it."

The gun was still pointed at your forehead. But the more you dug through the cut, the more it was lowered. Sam had dropped the gun completely and clenched his jaw in pain, grimacing. He watched as the rough, large hands of Lucifer turned into the smaller, tender ones of (Y/N). It was (Y/N) who was squeezing his hand, not Lucifer. Not anymore. Sam looked up from his throbbing palm to meet the soft, sympathy filled gaze of (Y/N).

"H-he didn't kill you?" Sam asked, still unsure of his vision.

"No, he didn't. I'm right here." You laced your free hand on his cheek.

"Thank god." He let out a deep breath and collapsed, bringing you down to your knees with him. Since his massive frame along with his body weight was very large compared to yours, it was no wonder the force of him falling caught you by surprise.

Sam was breathing even, his face smooshed against your shoulder. And for once in a life time, his eyes were peacefully closed. Not shut tight, trying to expel the voices of Lucifer. His form was slumped haphazardly against yours, arms draped by your sides. You would get Dean, but if he was sleeping, by some miracle, you didn't want to wake him up to haul Sam on your bed.

"Alright, Sammy, nice and easy." You grunted as you pulled Sam's top half on the bed, grabbing his legs and swinging them up and over, plopping them on the bed.