Imagine: Going back to the bunker a few weeks after leaving, asking for protection
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I walked into the bunker through the garage, bag over my shoulder. My face was covered in cuts and bruises, and it hurt to walk. I sighed, turning into the map room, looking for the boys. Before I could look in the library, I was surprised by guns cocking. The boys were at the steps, aiming at me. I looked over, holding up my hands.
"Woah, woah, easy," I exclaimed, and they calmed down. "..Hey."
"Y/N?" Sam said, and Dean was annoyed, but curious. "What the hell happened to you?"
"Where the hell have you been?" Dean added very seriously.
"...How about we talk?" I suggested, setting my bag down.
I sat in a chair in the library, and I told the boys everything. I stared at my beer bottle as they thought about what to say.
"So, you left trying to hide from demons, but you live here in a bunker designed to keep out angels and demons," Dean said, and I sighed. "Yeah, makes total sense."
"Dean," Sam said, and Dean shook his head.
"They know where we are," I said. "I was just covering your asses. Look, I'm not asking to stay here. I'm asking for help."
"What do you need?" Sam asked.
"Better hex bags, for starters," I told them.
"I'll call Rowena," Sam said, grabbing his phone and leaving the room.
"..You gonna piss and moan later or..?" I asked Dean.
"I can't," Dean told me, and I raised my eyebrows. "Because I probably would've done the same thing. Come on."
"Where are we going?" I said.
"You look like crap," Dean said, walking toward the steps. "Do you wanna get cleaned up or not?"
I scoffed, getting up.