Supernatural Imagines and Preferences

One For The Wayward Sons

*This is for male readers out there*

Okay I know a lot (maybe the whole fandom) absolutely despises John, but in the episode with Henry Winchester, their grandfather, it was said that John and Sam were a lot alike so I painted John in a relatively nice (very dim) light for this fic.

Disclaimer: but he's still a dick

Also this is set before Sam leaves for college. You are 15.
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Your brothers were just a little older than you, not old enough to be a big deal but old enough to be left in charge of you. They'd warned you with everything they had not to look in your fathers journal but, like Sam before you, curiosity won out and that's how you found yourself in the middle of the supernatural world at ten years old.

Training was hell. Sure, over the course of five years you'd improved, but as you started, you couldn't go five minutes without getting knocked on your ass. John showed no mercy during training and Dean wasn't any easier. Other than that, your brothers didn't seem to mind a new hunting partner and often said things like.

"Don't worry, you gotta land on your ass a few times before you get the hang of it."

"Doing better than I did when I started."

"Just don't let your guard down."

Back and forth they reassured you, at least that's what you think they were trying to do. They made you drink gallons of water to make sure you didn't dehydrate on them. Sam started making you go on morning runs to wake you up, Dean had you shoot bottles on a fence to work on your aim, and John had you up at ungodly hours of the night reciting Latin.

Then, on the day of your fifteenth birthday, John got a call from an old hunting buddy. A Wendigo was about a hundred miles in the Northern Minnesota forest.

"Dad, c'mon, you, Sam, and Dean will be right there!" You begged, "I'll be fine!"

"Son," John turned to you, "You're still training. If something goes wrong and you get hurt-"

"If something goes wrong and I get hurt, you guys will be right there to help me out, Dad." you cut him off.

He sighed and rubbed his eyes, "If," he held up his finger, "if you listen and follow orders, you can come."

You smiled, "Thanks dad!" And ran to tell your brothers the news.
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"No kidding," an eighteen year old Sam said over his hunting equipment.

"Well, it's about time." twenty-two year old Dean said over his own.

"So, Wendigos are the ones who were once human cannibals and then turned into monsters over time, right?" You said playing with a lighter in your hands.

"And how do we kill them?" Dean smiled proudly.

You flicked the lighter open, "Fire."

"I think Y/n is all set for this hunt, thoughts Sammy?" Dean grinned.

"I think it's Sam." he sassed, "And you seem awfully excited about this Y/n, I didn't think hunting would be something you'd enjoy." Sam looked at you in confusion.

"It's just that I've been training for five years. I've gotten so much better and if I'm gonna know about this crap, I might as well do something about it." You shrugged. "And if I don't like it, I'll learn to."

"Boys," your dad called from the house, "You ready?" You and your brothers scrambled to put all weapons on your bags before walking to the car.
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"I'm such an idiot!" You whisper harshly to yourself, you'd managed to get separated from your brothers and dad. The Wendigo had broken into a young couples tent and torn everything apart. Including them.

Now was not the time to be scared. You had concealed yourself in a tree and had finally spotted the damn thing. It definitely had you beat on height. It towered at a good eight feet. it smelled like a toilet and looked like one too. But a gas station men's room toilet. Oh god, you were gonna make yourself sick if you didn't stop.

It was nuzzling through the tent, stepping on the young mans corpse, until it pulled away. Something in a gleaming silver can was flung into the tree next to you when it tossed the tent away. You moved lower to get a better look.

Hairspray.

You fumble around quickly to get the small hand lighter out of your pocket. You shook it close to your ear first, the satisfying swish of liquid sent your heart racing. You could still kill it. You could be the hunter your father wants. You could make them all proud.

Since the Wendigo was caught up in eating part of the woman, you inched down the tree slowly. When you landed on the ground, you were behind the tree and away from its sight. You got on your knees and quickly reached around to grab the can. What you didn't expect was the monster to be right there.

It picked you up with ease and flung you across the campsite. Your lighter had been dropped somewhere in between.

The monster snarled and punched the ground, daring you to fight back. You got up and decided to do the craziest thing in the world, you ran at it like a madman. It raised its claws to strike, but you ducked and slid under its legs. You grabbed the lighter and rolled to the tree with the can. Since both weapons were safely in your hands, you broke into a boyish grin. You shook the can a few times before popping the lid open. The monster didn't seem too happy about being tricked, because it came running back to you, eyes burning brighter than any hellfire.

It didn't stand a chance.

You didn't let go of the can until the can was empty, leaving the monster crispy black. You kicked it with your foot and took out a large knife. You sat there for about ten minutes and carved it's heart out. A little dark for you, but a job is a job. After setting that on fire. You made your way back to the meeting place, where your brothers and father were waiting for you.
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"I can't believe you took on that thing for yourself!" Dean said as he patched up your arm which had been sliced open.

"That's a little dark to carve out it's heart." Sam cringed.

"Say what you want Sammy, but I sure as hell am proud of him." Your father said as he handed you a beer.

"Aren't I underage?" You asked.

"Sam and Dean got one after their first hunt, you're no different." John shrugged. "And it's just one. That's not gonna get you drunk."

You shrugged and took a swig of the foul liquid and tried not to show your dislike for it. So much for a celebratory drink.

Once John got started, he went to his room to finish it and get completely howling drunk. This left you and your brothers alone in the living room.

"So Y/n, do you really like hunting?" Sam asked.

"I don't like it." you shrugged honestly, "but it's the right thing to do."

Dean sighed, "That was a really brave move you pulled. Stupid, Smart, but brave." he took a swig of beer. "You're a Winchester all right." He looked at you and said jokingly, "Still, I think it could've been better for a first hunt."

"Your first hunt was any better?" You laughed.

"God." he chuckled, "It's been a while since I thought about that."

"Maybe because you fainted half way through." Sam laughed.

"I was knocked out." Dean defended himself. "That werewolf was just about a rug when I was done with it anyway."

"Yeah," Sam nodded, "And that witch," he shivered, "I still feel sick when I see a mouse."

"I think that has more to do with you being a complete pansy." Dean said seriously.

"At least I wasn't a chew toy for a good hour and a half!"

"Bitch."

"Jerk."
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