Supernatural Sister Imagines

Don't Forget Me

     "You won't ever forget me, right?"

     "Darling, I couldn't if I wanted to."

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      "Are you sure you guys want to do this? I mean, technically it's not our fight." I remember sitting, wrapped in Dean's arms, my head on his shoulder as I stared at the fire flickering in front of me, dotting my face in a speckled orange pattern of light. My skin glowed in the gentle shimmer, my bright eyes sparkling beautifully and reflecting the fire's dance.

     I remember all around me, the trees swayed along to their nightly psithurism, crickets providing their ballad and leaves shaking out their song. The dark that sat heavy just beyond the tree line was relentless, tenderly clawing at the back of mine and my brother's heads, but the warning sparks of the fire kept it at bay as I listened to the gentle sounds of a wintery wood gone to sleep.

     I remember, above my head, the stars dancing among themselves, twinkling endlessly across the vast expanse of the black sky. I had found myself looking up at them often, drawing comfort in their soft glitter, shining down upon my pools of blue and creating a couple of galaxies all their own inside my head. I remember the boys saying something about my eyes, the way they fought between glowing orange by the firelight or sparkling with a million stars from the sky.

    I remember that across from me sat Sam, his broad shoulders wrapped in a thin blanket as he warmed his large hands in front of the fire, the color of his hazel eyes intensified by the flames. A lock of his long hair had broken free from the rest and flapped gently in the wind that whistled silently through the wood, and occasionally it would billow over his eyes, where he would give a blow and sending it floating away again.

     I remember Dean's heartbeat echoing against my back, slow and surprisingly calm. His arms had held me closely, wrapped about my shoulders, and his legs stretched out on the grassy floor below him, mine folded to my chest. A blanket adorned both our shoulders, and occasionally his chin would graze or rest atop my head, and more than once he would lean down and kiss my brown hair gently.

    The wind blew was just hard enough to rip away our warmth, I remember. It nipped at our noses and it bit at our ears and it slashed at our rosy cheeks, but it didn't seem to bother any of us. We were perfectly fine, wrapped in blankets and tangled with each other, the Impala blocking much of the angry breeze.

     We stopped to sleep. I remember that. That had been the intention, to park the Impala and sleep, get right back on the road the next morning. However it didn't take a genius to know that none of us would be find sleep that night, and all of us knew. We anticipated what awaited us and gave it the opportunity to take its toll before it even began.

     "We'll be okay, Max. Even if it isn't our fight, if Lucifer wins it becomes ours. We need to deal with it now before it becomes a problem." Sam said quietly, but even though his words were reassuring, his eyes had betrayed him, revealing the worry that no one was brave enough to speak.

     "I just-" I sighed, pressing myself closer to Dean. He had sensed my discomfort, and had pulled me tighter to him, "How do we know this will work?"

    "We don't." Dean's voice vibrated in his chest behind him, solemn and quiet, "All we can do is try."

     "What if-"

    "Don't." Sam had interrupted me before I could even finish my sentence, and I remember looking up at him to see an intensity I'd never seen before in his eyes. It was a hard determination and something inside me knew that there was no way he would even consider one of our deaths, "We'll make it out."