Supernatural Imagines

Winchesters x Sibling!Reader//Peaceful

Song of choice: 6/10- Dodie Clark

Imagine: going on a hunt that your brothers told you not to go on and getting hurt.

Requested by mermaidmelody99

Steady. Calm. You were running, arms and legs getting scraped by tree branches like skeletal arms reaching out to take you down under. Heavy. Breathing was becoming hard, but you couldn't stop. If you stopped, it would get you. If you stopped, you wouldn't make it out alive.

You should have listened to your brothers. They had told you not to go on this hunt, yet you went just to piss them off. Why? You didn't know. It felt like they were babying you, even though you were far from wearing diapers. It just didn't seem fair that your brothers got to do whatever the hell they wanted and were still allowed to condemn you to a weekend of the bunker. You were old enough to join them on their hunts. However, you were starting to realize that age doesn't matter; skill is the thing they're looking for.

Ripped. Torn. The sleeve of your green shirt caught on a branch, tearing the fabric and sending you sprawling to the ground. Down. You couldn't get up. Your legs were so tired, your heart was beating out of its cave. Even as the werewolf stood over you, spit dribbling down its jaws, you couldn't move an inch. You were done for. Closed. Fear. The beast leaned down with wide, obsidian eyes. You closed yours. Fall. It was over.

The breath of the creature churned your stomach as it trickled over your neck and down to your spine. You screamed as it ripped into the side of your throat with a hunger that animal meat couldn't quench. Suddenly, the werewolf leaned back, eyes wide with the emotion of fear. Another boisterous sound and the beast fell to the side as you brought your hands up to your throat, wincing at the pressure.

"Y/N," Sam replaced your hand with a bandage as he leaned down over you, "it's going to be okay." His eyes showed you different. They showed concern, and worst of all, terror. He glanced over his shoulder at Dean. "I-I don't know what to do." Your brother whispered with a shaking voice, hoping you wouldn't hear him. However, you did. Even in your state of shock, you could hear his gentle voice.

Sad. Anger. Your brothers were washed in emotions as they brought you to the Impala, wincing every time you let out a whimper of pain. This was your fault, but your brothers felt like it was theirs. Shock. Cold. You had originally felt warmth blossom through the wound, yet now all you felt was cold. You felt nothing. "Just hang in there, alright Y/N?" Sam mumbled, hand resting over your neck where he had placed a bundle of gauze. You didn't answer. Instead, your eyes closed and Dean placed his foot flat on the gas. Even an ambulance wouldn't dare to go as fast as the Impala; they knew their limits. Dean, however, did not. All he knew was that you were dying, and after everything, he couldn't let you. He couldn't lose someone else. It was selfish, but in the moment, he didn't care and he never would.

The three of you skidded into the entrance of the ER. Sam threw open the door, chocolate eyes wide with terror and pain. Nurses and doctors stepped in, kicking the boys to the side as they took you on a gurney. "What happened?" One of them asked to nobody in particular. Dean slightly raised his arm.

"We were camping and the second we left our tent to go gather firewood, she was-" Dean's voice choked, tears welling up in his throat and eyes. "-she was attacked by a, uh, by a bear." The doctor nodded and ran after the gurney that nurses were pulling inside. The boys hurried after, wanting to be with you, but knowing they couldn't. You needed to get into surgery. Hours. They felt like days as the boys took turns pacing in the waiting room, gaining sympathetic looks from others that knew nothing besides the agony of emotions clear on their faces. Hope. Their eyes turned up as a doctor walked in, hair pulled up in a messy bun and a small smile on her face.

"Y/N Winchester?" She called out, eyes following the men that came to stand next to her. "The surgery went well with few complications." Dean and Sam's eyes lit up. "However, because of the immense damage done to their larynx, they might have trouble speaking in the future. You may go see them now if you'd like. They're in room 128." The boys thanked the doctor and rushed to your room, stopping once they were in the doorway.

Peaceful. You were sleeping, tubes connected to your skin, needles pumping nutrients and air being breathed for you. There was a huge patch on your neck, accompanied by a neck brace that held it in place. Dean and Sam took places besides you, pulling up uncomfortable, grey, plastic chairs. They took your hands in theirs, saying nothing to each other as nothing was needed to be said. You were safe; that was all that mattered. Hours went by before your eyes fluttered open and you croaked out two words.

"Sam? Dean?"