Supernatural Imagines/One shots

Imagine Sam and Dean getting a call that youre in fatal condition

Ring. Ring. Ring.

"Damn it, Sammy. Answer the phone." Dean groaned. It was late at night, or early in the morning, too dark to tell. Dean and Sam were both exhausted. It was the first sleep they'd gotten in days, and of course they had to get a call now.
Sam reaches for the phone. He hits the answer call button and says "Hello?"
"Is this Evan Morris?" A cool female voice asks.
"Yeah." Sam mumbles, recognizing one of his many aliases. "Who is this?"
"I'm calling from St Mary's hospital. A young woman was just brought in and your phone number was one of few in her cell phone."
"Oh my god." Sam sits up, wide awake with fear. "Y/N? Is she alive?"
Upon hearing your name, Dean sits up, also wide-awake. Sam looks at him frantically.
"She is, but barely. Things don't look good for her, Mr. Morris."

Three Days Earlier

"Dean, please stop treating me like a baby! I'm 22 years old! I can take care of myself! I dont need you playing big brother all the time!" You shout, frustrated.
"Y/N, please listen to me. You're tough, I get it. But you can't do this alone. Alright? One day, I'm sure you will be able to hunt by yourself. But for the time being, Sam and I are responsible for you. I'm not gonna let you go get yourself killed on a hunt just because you think you're all grown up." Dean said.
"I am freaking 22! I can do with the hell I want!" You're not a child anymore. Just because he's a whopping ten years older than you, Dean thinks he knows it all. You've taken down plenty of supernatural crap and saved Deans ass more time than you can count, and he still doesn't trust you to go solo to hunt? What a dick.
"You know what?! I am so done arguing with you! Go and get yourself killed and see if I care! But if you leave don't come back."
"Dean..." Sam said gently.
"Fine. You ass." You said, angrily slinging your backpack over your shoulder.
"Y/N, wait!" Sam shouted as you turned to the door. Too angry to listen, you just kept going. Sam turn to Dean and shouted "look what you've done!"
Dean just glared after you.
"She's too stubborn to be a hunter. She won't last 10 minutes out in the real world. Watch soon enough she'll be calling begging for help."
"We should go after her, Dean. She can get hurt out there and how would you feel then?"
"She'll be fine. It's late, Sam. We should get some sleep."
Dean collapsed on his bed and pulled the covers over his body. Closing his eyes, he dreamed of you, running through a forest, pursued by a man in all black, you begging for your life.
when he woke up the next morning and went out to the impala, Dean saw that you had slashed 3 of his tires.
"Son of a bitch!" He yelled. He pulled out his phone and dialed your number. No surprise, it went straight to voicemail.
Dean tried unsuccessfully to call you a few times again that day. Much to his dismay, over the next few days, no matter how many times he called you or how many text he sent, you didn't pick up. He started to get seriously worried. He couldn't sleep at night and he couldn't eat. He felt so guilty over everything he said to you and about you. What if Sam was right? What if you got hurt really bad, and what if it was all his fault?
"Sam, I can't get ahold of her. What if she's dead?" Dean asked, grabbing a bottle of whiskey. He drank straight from the bottle. Sam watched him and then said "You haven't slept or eaten in days. We've looked all over. You going to kill yourself if you keep going like this. Let's just get some sleep tonight and will keep looking for her in the morning."
Dean nodded his head and after tossing and turning for an hour, he finally fell asleep.

At the hospital

Unable to Focus on anything but getting to your side, Dean drove at nearly 20 miles over the speed limit. When they finally reach the hospital, Dean pulled haphazardly into parking lot, slammed the door, locked the car and ran inside, Sam following close behind. He went straight to the front desk.
"Hi, I'm Steve Morris, this is my brother Evan. We got a call that our friend is here. Y/F/N?" He asks. The receptionist nods and checks her computer.
"She's in the ICU, room 166." She says. Dean nods.
"Can I see her?"
"Only two visitors at a time."
"Is anyone else is back there?" Dean asks.
"Nobody as far as I know." She calls for a security guard. He leads you through several doors and down a long hall. Rooms full of dying, injured people make Sam wince, but Dean keeps walking, his jaw set tight.
Finally, the guard teaches room 166 and pulls back the curtain. Sam and Dean gasp loudly.
You're laying in the bed, tubes down your throat and IV's in your arms. Your entire body is covered in deep scratches and deep purple bruises. You're spitting two black eyes and a fat, swollen lip. Stitches cover your face and your arm is in a cast. The most shocking change to your appearance is that your head is completely shaved and a long row of black stitches run across your skull. You look like a corpse. As Sam and Dean stare at your body, a male doctor in white walks in.
"What the hell happened to her?" Dean asks shakily, his voice weak with shock.
"I don't know. Some kind of animal attack maybe." He says. "She had massive swelling in her brain and she's sustained serious spinal injuries. She's in a deep coma now and I'm afraid she might not wake up." Dean groaned in anguish and said desperately "Is there any chance of recovery?"
"Even if she does recover, it's likely she won't have any memories and she will not be able to walk." The doctor puts his hand on Deans shoulder and says before leaving "I'm so sorry."
Sam asks "How was she found?"
"A couple in the woods found her yesterday morning." He says.
"Can we talk to them?" Sam asks.
"You can try, but they're a little shell shocked by this."
Sam left to interview the couple while Dean grabbed a chair and pulled it close to your bedside. He buried his face in his hands and sobbed.
This was all his fault. If he had just protected you and trusted you, maybe you would be laying three feet from death.