Supernatural Preferences and Imagines

22 | Dean Winchester x Castiel x Daughter!Reader [Requested!]

So this one is based around season 3, episode 16, but there's a little twist at the end!

Requested by a very good friend for her birthday! I hope you like it!

Enjoy!

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The Daughter Of Two Legends

It didn't matter that most of her impending threats were now dead and laying at her feet. It didn't matter that her hair had fallen from it's high ponytail, a small inconvenience that would usually through her off her hunting game. It didn't matter that the tremendously scared family she had safety secured in the basement started to band against the locked door, begging for answers to their frightful questions. It also didn't matter that each one of the bodies that had been thrashed and mangled by the merciless knife she wielded in her hand was now permanently imprinted in her palm, shaking wildly between her figures. The crimson blood glossing her weapon and soaking her favorite shirt wasn't very significant either. She no longer cared about what kind of mental or physical state she happened to be in, for tonight she couldn't find the time to complain.

Absolutely nothing mattered to Y/N in that bittersweet moment. At least until one simple sound echoed through the silent house. That sound was the hellish chime of the clock striking midnight.

Suddenly, her chest gasped aggressively in frantic spasms as she fought to fill her desperate lungs with lively air, but no matter the amount of oxygen she managed to collect, her breath was still shuddering with each inhales and exhales. She had imagined the noise so many nights before. The haunting ticks of the clock hands running their course, never missing a single beat, until finally both of them land perfectly on the dreaded number twelve. God, how she absolutely despised that sound. She hated it so much that whenever she heard the steady clicking of a timepiece, she would wince with anxiousness.

However, this time she just froze, her body completely paralyzed. She felt forever stuck in one position, that it truly felt like nothing could shatter her trance. Not even the sound of her uncle's voice calling for her. She heard him, despite the mini panic attack coursing through her small frame. Though it was distorted, his distressed song hammered in her ears making her shut her eyes in annoyance. She tries to break her spell, bringing her free hand to her temple to wipe away the ringing in her head. She feels dizzy, her feet stumbling through the hallway of demon bodies, demanding for her body to walk towards Sam's yells. With each step, his voice begins to rebound louder and louder. She could tell she was close, but something in her heart stops her from moving.

Peering down the hallway, she catches a glimpse of the creatures balanced movements. Maybe it was her vivid imagination or maybe it was just her mind playing gruesome tricks on her, either way, she watches the hellhound sway its tail, bending down into attack mode. Its low growl comes next, making all of her efforts to breathe, stop dead in her throat. 'Please,' her heart weeps, dropping aimlessly to the pit of her stomach. The feeling makes her weak in the knees, the thought of what was to come next almost flooring her right then.

She wanted to cry out for him. For anybody.

Her tears start to assemble at the base of her eyes, a few slipping pass the barrier and landing on the wooden floor beneath her. Slamming her fist against the wall, she held back a depressed sob. She wasn't supposed to be crying. She wasn't supposed to be feeling this way. She was stronger than this.

Behind the darkness of her eyelids, she could practically envision her father's disappointment laced in his green eyes. To him, she was never good enough. A feeling that constantly made her want to be better, pushing her every limit of strength, power, and agility. She was a hunting machine, but controlling emotions was something she lacked.