Winchester Sister Imagines

"Who Are You?"

Imagine: Sam is soulless and he does some things that scar the reader

He wasn't himself. He wasn't the nerdy, book-loving, salad eating Sam that you loved. Instead he didn't sleep, barely ate, and showed as close to the lowest amount of emotion as a person could show.

He would look you in the eye occasionally, but the green didn't shine as bright and there was just something missing. You didn't blame him, you were sure it would take some time, but you just wanted him to talk to you, to yell, to do anything that would help him be himself again.

It had been 3 months since he showed up at your door. Dean had gone to stay with Ben and Lisa. He asked you to go with him, but you told him you just needed time to think about everything. Sam was your best friend.

Ever since you were born, he had been the caring brother. The one you could tell everything to, who would hold you forever if you needed him to. But that had changed.

He was sitting in the motel room by himself. Dean had decided to stay with Lisa and Ben. You respected his decision, it was his chance to get out, but you didn't know how long it would actually last.

You were slightly frustrated at your brother's sudden disinterest in showing emotion, but you weren't exactly sure what Sam was capable of, so you held your frustrations in.

"Hey (y/n), I think I found a new case for us, I'll talk to Samuel about it tomorrow." He didn't look up from the book he was reading while he spoke to you.

"Cool," you said nonchalantly figuring that it wouldn't matter.

"What's wrong?" He asked, his eyes still on the text in front of him. You were a little taken aback by the question, almost angered by it.

"It's not like you care," it was mumbled under your breathe, but he somehow picked it out and finally looked up.

"No I don't."

"Then why did you ask? I mean why are you even here Sam? If you don't care then why don't you just leave." You let your anger slip for just a second before realizing what you said.

"Fine." It was blunt, stubborn, and still completely calm. He stood up from the chair, placing the book on the bedside table, before standing up and walking to the door.

"No, Sam that's not what I meant. I just meant that it's frustrating that you don't care at all."

"It's fine (y/n), I get it. It's better if I leave anyways." There wasn't sadness or anger or anything in his voice and it was just so annoying. You didn't know why it was annoying, it just was.

"Sam, please stay." You reached to grab his arm and pull him back in, and if it were any other time, he would've come back in immediately, just because you wanted him to. But he didn't.

"(Y/n) get off of me." It was still calm, the same tone, the same consistency. You didn't move, you continued to plead him with your eyes, to tug at his sleeve.

"Don't," he warned. He pulled his sleeve away from your hand and started walking again. You tried to move in front of him, to stop him, but a strong force against your left cheek brought you to an immediate stop.

Your hand instantly flew to your face which was completely covered in disbelief. Tears threatened to spill from your eyes, not from the pain, but from the pure shock.