Supernatural Sister Imagines

Imagine #4: Sorry

Imagine: Dean messes up your hunt and you get mad at him.

Age: 15

"Y/n, babe, please talk to me." Dean followed you like a kicked puppy as you stormed into the motel room, Sam trailing behind. You were fuming, the urge to sock your brother in the face all but overwhelming.

"Shut up, Dean." You snarled as you avoided facing him.

"See, that wasn't so hard." You rolled your eyes and tossed your bag on the bed, wiping the blood from your cheek with the back of your hand.

"You're such an ass." You turned to head toward the bathroom so you could shower, but Dean's arm gripping your inner elbow stopped you as he yanked you to face him.

"Y/n, I'm sorry." He said genuinely, a desperate look in his eyes. You scoffed and pulled yourself from his grasp.

"The puppy eyes won't work this time, Dean. Your pretentious little ego ruined my hunt and almost got me killed." You spun on your heel, fiery (color) eyes hard as you disappeared through the bathroom door, slamming it shut.

You intended to shower, but before you could get in you heard Dean speaking opposite the door. Turning on the water so it would seem like you'd gotten in, you crept to the door and pressed your ear to it.

"I don't understand what I did wrong. The wolf asked who we were and I told him." You heard Dean mutter to Sam, and rolled your eyes.

"You also distracted yourself by bragging about us, and the wolf escaped and nearly killed Y/n." Sam returned, his voice calm and reasonable. You knew he wasn't taking a side, he hated taking sides when the two of you fought, but he also knew who was in the wrong, and was only giving the logical answer.

"Nothing can kill Y/n. She's the best huntress in the U.S., I made sure she was." Dean said, and you stifled a smile as your cheeks began to warm.

You didn't get to hear the rest of the conversation, as you decided that you were tired of the blood on your face and wanted it off. You stepped into the hot shower after stripping yourself of your clothing and pressed your hands to the tiled wall, the droplets hitting the back of your neck as you looked down at the drain and closed your eyes.

You took a few deep breaths and shook your head slightly. Maybe I'm overreacting. You thought. Your brows furrowed with anger. No, it's his fault that hunt went wrong. It's his fault I was almost killed. You absentmindedly got a handful of shampoo and rubbed it into your (length), (color) hair. Your hair was very soft and never greasy, and both boys loved to play with it anytime they were stressed or bored.

You washed the shampoo out of your hair and exited the shower, the cold air hitting you like a gut punch and sending your breath hitching in your throat as you wrapped a fluffy towel around your person.

You dried your body and hair and put on clean clothes, brushing your damp locks in the mirror and staring at the pair of (color) eyes that looked back at you.

"Maybe I'll forgive him." You mumbled, so quiet you could hardly hear yourself, "but not right now."

Replacing the brush on the counter, you quickly brushed your teeth and exited the room. As you walked toward where both boys were seated on their consecutive beds, you could feel Dean's apologetically pathetic eyes on you like lasers.

"(Nickname)?" Dean asked simply as you walked toward Sam, passing Dean's bed, where you normally slept.

"I think I'll sleep with Sam tonight." You said to no one in particular, but Dean knew you were addressing him. He could only nod his consent as you slid into the bed beside Sam, who was already laying down and half asleep. You knew Dean was contemplating whether or not to say something, as there was a moment of stifling silence before there was the sound of shuffling and the light switched off, throwing the room to darkness as Dean settled, alone, in his bed.

You cuddled closer to Sam and he rolled over to face you with an annoyed look you could barely make out in the dark. You flashed him your best pouted lip and wide eyes before he gave in with a quiet sigh and drew you to his chest, his arms around you while you smiled triumphantly.

"You know you're going to have to forgive him, right?" Sam whispered after a while, once he knew Dean was asleep.

"I know, but I almost died." You half-heartedly protested, but already you missed the warmth of the eldest brothers arms holding you. Sure, Sam had you the same way Dean did every night, but Sam's chest was different, Sam's arms were different. It was different. Sam's grip tightened a little with sympathy, and you nuzzled further into his shirt.

"And do you know how much he's kicking his own ass because of it? If he lost you, he wouldn't ever forgive himself. He loves you more than anything else in the world, Y/n. And you love him."

      "Of course I love him. Does he think I don't love him?" You felt a bout of worry seep into your skin and drift down like the thickest of blood down to your bones upon the realization of your fear.

     "He thinks you're very angry at him. And that upsets him." Sam kissed the top of your head gently, sensing your worry, "Y/n that man would rather die than live in a world where you didn't love him."

     "What do you think?" There was a long pause, and even in the silence of the room you hear Sam pondering your question.

     "I think you are less angry than what's on your face," he responded eventually, "I think what came off as rage that you directed to Dean, you were scared. You came closer to death than you've ever before, and that's terrifying. But I don't think you were ever really mad at him. But he thinks you are." Tears formed at your eyes then. You screwed up, and now Dean thinks you hate him. You had to fix it.

     You found Sam's face in the dark and kissed it, a small smile following after, "Thank you, Sam."

     "You're welcome, kid."

     He released you and you practically leapt from the bed, your feet pittering across the floor quietly as you hurried toward Dean's bed.

     You got in beside the oldest Winchester, who had his back turned to you, small snores leaving his mouth as his side rose and fell softly.

     You reached out and gingerly shook his shoulder. More tears had formed at your eyes, but you weren't really crying.

     After a few more shakes, Dean snorted awake and rolled over, propped himself up in his elbows and blinking his groggy eyes repeatedly, squinting at you in the dark.

     "Y/n?" His voice was gravelly and his hair was ruffled, but his green eyes were alert as he looked at you.

     "Dean, I'm so sorry." You fell into him and wrapped your arms around his neck. His didn't hesitate in grasping around your waist, "I was never angry, I was just afraid and I turned it into anger so I could hide from my fear and I took that anger out on you and it wasn't fair and I treated you bad and I'm sorry and I love you." You were breathless by the time you finished speaking, tears streaming down you face, however you weren't sobbing, simply leaking tears.

     "Oh, baby, it's okay. You don't have to be sorry. I love you too, and I shouldn't have been so reckless. I don't know what I'd do if I lost you." Dean's voice went dark upon his last sentence, and by the tightening of his arms around you and his lips upon your scalp, you knew everything was okay.