Supernatural Oneshots/Imagines/Sickfics REQUESTS OPEN

Sitting In Silence (Imagine)

You steered your dark, green 2003 VW Passat into the rundown driveway of a farmhouse. You put your baby into park and took the key out, shoving it into the pocket of your jeans. Wielding your .45, you carefully checked out the place and made sure it was safe to hang out for a while. You found nothing but grass and a worn down house with the windows broken out. You looked up at the beautiful stars.

Life was hard since you had dropped out of college. Your brother was killed by a vengeful spirit who blamed him for her death in a car accident five years ago, but you still mourned him like it was five minutes ago. You cut off your connections with family to ward off demons and spirits in revenge for his death. Though your face was plastered in the entrance of every Walmart on the missing board, you had a couple of current connections with people who helped keep you hidden.

After the coast was clear, you got your duffel bag and sleeping bag out of the back seat. You gently closed the car door and went inside the house. You dropped the bags in the center of the empty main parlor and took out the can of salt. Making sure to get every window and door, you sprinkled the salt across the worn down shack.

Once the can was empty, you launched it out one of the broken windows and got out your red spray paint. You sprayed demon traps in front of every doorway to make sure you were safe. You lazily dropped the spray paint can on the ground near your duffel bag.

You squatted next to your sleeping bag and picked it up. You unraveled the deep blue bag next to your duffel bag and flopped onto it. You snuggled into the familiar smell of the worn fabric. The musty smell reminded you of your late brother's scent. He had always smelled like the leaves on a foggy September morning in the forest. You hugged the sleeping bag like it was your brother who you had promised to protect, only to have his life slip between your fingers.

You painfully remembered the dreadful moment when your twin brother, James, looked up at you with his blue eyes full of blood and pain. Then, the shard of glass from a broken mirror flew threw the air at the both of you. You tried to push him out of the way, but you couldn't do it in time. His heart was hit, directly and his left lung was punctured. You remembered the blood-curdling scream you let out, as you held his lifeless body in your trembling arms. You remembered how you burned his body miles deep into the woods, and carrying the bundle that his body was wrapped in. A tear dripped from your face onto the sleeping bag, slowly seeping into the woven fabric. "I'm sorry, James," you whispered, every inch of you trembled out of fear, sorrow, and yearning for your brother's company.

A loud bang on the front door made you leap from your position. You quickly wrapped your fingers around your .45 and pointed it toward the door. "I got it, Sammy," you heard a rough voice say behind the door. You're breathing became deeper and quicker. Suddenly, the door was kicked inward, displacing the salt you had laid out. You quickly raised the gun to the large figures that stepped in.

"Woah, easy," the larger man said, slowly placing his knife on the ground in front of him. The shorter man looked at the larger man, annoyed. "Dean," the larger one said firmly. The shorter one, Dean, rolled his eyes then slowly placed his gun on the worn, wooden floor. The taller one quickly unscrewed a water bottle and splashed some on your exposed wrists.

"She's clean," the taller one whispered.

"Who the hell are you?" you asked, you're voice quivering.

"Calm down, we're not going to hurt you. Just put the gun down, and don't shoot us," The taller one said. He looked around and saw your set up, he then brought his gaze down to meet yours. "Please," he pleaded, "I'm Sam Winchester, and that's Dean Winchester. We can help." You slowly obliged, and put the gun down beside you.

"Are you crying?" Dean asked, narrowing his gaze on yours.

"No," you whispered, wiping your face. "I'm (Y/N) (Y/L/N)," You held out a hand for them to shake.