Imagine: The boys confront you about the drawings (Imagine #77 pt. 2)
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I sat in the kitchen, drinking a cup of coffee and looking into some news when both Sam and Dean walked in. I looked over my shoulder then turned my head back to my computer.
"Hey," I greeted. "So, I think I caught us a hunt. A lady was found in a park after being missing for three days. Her heart was missing. I'm guessing werewolves."
Neither of them said anything. Dean stood on the opposite side of the table, and he shut my laptop. I looked up at them. I furrowed my eyebrows.
"What's going on?" I wondered.
"...Y/N, we found your drawings last night," Sam said, and my heart skipped a beat.
"Drawings?" I said, knowing it was pointless to play dumb.
"Cut the crap," Dean ordered.
"Dean," Sam tried. "Y/N, are you still seeing things from Hell?"
"No," I said immediately. "I just...ok, yes, I sketch things. But I'm not having visions or whatever you think I'm having. They're just flashbacks. They help me get them out of my head."
"What, you didn't think we would find out?" Dean asked. "Y/N, Sam and I, we know what Hell does to a person. But if you're seeing wacko crap in your head, you tell us. I've already been through this with Sam when he lost his marbles."
"Dean's right," Sam said, and I looked at him. "Whatever happened down there, we know it was bad. Keeping this stuff to yourself can mess you up."
"You think I don't know that?" I said, relaxing before I snapped at them. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be sorry," Dean said, now sitting across from me. "We just want you to talk to us."
"We can help you, Y/N," Sam said, and I took a deep breath.
"...Ok," I said after a pause. "I'll try to stop drawing."
I looked at them, and opened my laptop again.
"So who's down to kill some werewolves?" I asked.