Confetti It's A PARADE! Of Supernatural Imagines.

BeWitched

Sam Winchester X Reader

Synopsis: Hunting a witch with Sam and Dean, the witch puts a spell on you.

Another room, another murder. This room was painted yellow, pictures covering the majority of the walls. The four poster bed was unmade, the blue and yellow comforter crumpled along the foot of the bed. A white dresser sat along one side of the wall, with a jewelry box and forgotten clothes strewn across the top. A bookcase was against other wall, filled with books, so many books. Glancing around the room, you looked for clues as to what could have killed the victim.  Following a hunch, you scamper down onto your hands and knees, searching under the bed.

"Whatcha doing Y/N? Think the murderer's hiding under the bed?" You heard Dean joke behind you.

"You better not be looking at my ass, Dean. And at least I've found a clue." You sassed back, straightening up before showing them what was in your hand, a brown bag with symbols on it, a hex bag.

"Should've known, it had to be a witch," Sam replied, taking the bag from your hand. "Great work Y/N, what would we do without you."

Staring into his hazel eyes, you became flustered. Looking down you tried  to hide your blushing face. You've had a major crush on the younger Winchester since you first started hunting with them. Not sure he felt the same, you kept your feelings to your self. Only Dean knew, and loved to tease you about it. He was like the older brother you never wanted. 

"Alright you two, we know it's a witch, and we know it goes after young single women. Now we just need to figure out her next move and gank her before she comes after Y/N." Dean says, leading the two of you out of the door. "Unless you two want to have a talk?" Dean smirked at you.

"Shut up Dean, leave Y/N alone." Sam came to your rescue, making you glance up at the giant of a man, wondering if maybe he did care for you, at least a little.

______________________________________

Later that day, you and Sam were doing research in the motel room while Dean went for food.  Giving up for a moment, you stretch your arms, causing your tight black shirt to expose a little bit of your stomach.. Feeling eyes on you, you turn to see Sam staring at your exposed skin, an unreadable expression on his face.

"Everything okay Sam? Sure you don't need to take a break?" You asked, lowering your arms, and walking over to grab a bottle of water from the fridge.

No, I'm fine Y/N. So get this, all victims live in a two block radius from each other, and each have recently visited the same book store within the week. I think our witch has something to do with that bookstore. We should go check it out." Sam tells you, standing up to change into his FBI gear. Taking yours out of your bag, you quickly change, hurrying before Sam comes out of the bathroom.

As Sam opened the door of the hotel room you gently place your hand on Sam's shoulder, feeling his muscle jump underneath your hand. Taking your hand off immediately, you ask, "Shouldn't we wait for Dean? He should be back any minute. Then we can go."

"I'll text him, tell him to meet us there. I really don't want her to take another victim." Sam told you, pulling out his phone, as you both started walking down the sidewalk. Dean had taken the Impala, but it was only a couple of blocks to the bookstore.

Enjoying the walk in the cool fall air, with Sam by your side. Occasionally his shoulder would bump yours, or his hand would brush against yours, and you wished he would just reach out and take your hand in his. So lost in your thoughts it took you a moment before you realized you had already made it to the bookstore. An antique painted sign hung above the door, the words scripted and beautiful. A large wooden door with a stained glass window was right beneath the sign, it's sign proclaiming they were open. Old, heavy windows were on both sides of the door, letting you see there were no customers inside, just an older lady reading at the counter.

Too bad this was a hunt, you would have loved to have spent time in that bookstore. There were shelves full of books, with wooden rolling ladders to reach the ones up high. A fireplace was lit, with plush arm chairs placed around it. Throughout the store you could see plump couches and chairs, giving it a homey feel. Opening the heavy wooden door, you hear the tinkle of a bell, warning the cashier a new customer was arriving.

"Well hello there, how can I help you today?" The woman behind the cash register asked you, her voice professional. She was in her mid 50's with gray  scattered throughout her auburn brown hair. She had reading glasses perched on her nose, and an old book laid out in front of her.

Walking up to the lady, Sam pulled out his FBI badge. "Ma'am we are here investigating a couple of murders. We recently learned that each victim has visited this store within the past week. Can you tell me if you've noticed something weird, or maybe a customer who's been here a lot."

Standing beside Sam, you watched as the lady straightened her back, closed her book and laid her hands on top of it. Trying to make out what the book was about, you could only read one word, hexes. Grasping Sam's hand below the counter, you try to warn him, but it was too late.

The lady whispered under her breath, showering you with a white powder before rushing past you to the door. However, Dean picks the perfect time for an entrance, opening the door, and knocking the witch off of her feet. 

Trying to breathe through the white powder clouding your face, you heard Sam yell at Dean, "She's the witch. Kill her Dean!" 

"Are you sure you want him to do that, dear? You see, I've just placed a spell on your young lady, and I'm the only one who knows how to lift it." The witch says, but Dean already has his gun out, and shoots her in the head, killing her instantly.

"You guys alright? What was she talking about, what spell?" Dean asks, stepping over the witch, walking over to you and Sam.

"I'm fine, but she did get Y/N with some white powder. You feel alright (your nick name)?" Sam asked you, bending down to look at you, taking one of your hands in his giant ones, making your stomach quiver in a way that had nothing to do with the spell.

"I'm fine now that the powder is gone. I don't feel spelled." You say. The only thing wrong with you now is the excitement of feeling your hand in Sam's. It felt amazing, perfect, exactly the way you always pictured it.

"Sam, you take Y/N back to the motel, I'll deal with the witch." Dean suggested, kicking the witches dead body. 

After glaring at Dean for kicking the witch, Sam took the book off the counter, and walked you back to the hotel room.

Once in the room, you quickly sat down on the bed, feeling dizzy and out of sorts. Frantic that the spell was starting to take effect, you open your mouth, trying to get Sam's attention. Unable to say anything, you try to stand up, your legs sliding out from underneath you, darkness overtaking you before you feel your head hit the floor.