Supernatural Sister Imagines

Imagine #48: Patchwork

Hello guys! I just wanted to preface this imagine by apologizing for not uploading for so long. I was busy with exams and then we got out of school for the holidays and I was busy shopping and I've been terribly sick for the past week but I hope to get back into a more steady flow with writing. The problem is I'm running low on ideas that don't sound boring to me. Feel free to provide some of you have any and I'll be sure to dedicate the chapter to you. Anyway, I hope everyone had a wonderful Christmas, and here you go!

Imagine: The boys wake you up in the middle of the night to take care of them after they're both injured in a hunt.

Age: 15

     You heard your door creak before you saw the dueling silhouettes enter your room, and instantly your hand went beneath your pillow, fingertips searching for the cold kiss of your gun amongst the sheets. You found and gripped it as the silhouettes drew nearer, looming pieces of dark in the dimness of the room.

     The came to either side of your bed and you drew your gun, whipping back and forth between the two just as one of them reached forward and flicked on your lamp, transforming the beasts into your beaten, bloodied brothers while they held up their hands in alarm.

     "Woah, woah! Y/n, it's us!" Dean exclaimed, Sam echoing. You lowered your gun with a pounding heart, taking in the blood on their clothes.

     "Oh my God, boys what happened?" You asked, discarding your gun as you shot from the bed and grasped Sam's bicep, looking him over.

     "We were jumped," The taller brother answered, occasionally wincing as you touched something or moved something, "We killed them, but we need your help."

     "Of course." Your eyes were heavy yet alert as you drug both brothers to the end of your bed and sat them down before hurrying to your wardrobe to retrieve your first aid kit, flicking on the light while you were close to it before returning to your boys.

     "Who's worse?" You asked, the shaking in your hands only growing as you looked up all the cuts and bruises on their skin.

     "Sam," Dean said immediately, pointing to his brother. Dean could be on his death bed, his brother with a paper cut, and Dean would tell someone to treat his brother first, same with you, "Get Sam."

     You did as you were told and peeled off Sam's shirt, throwing it on the floor and retrieving some alcohol.

     "Hold your breath." You ordered as you wet a rag and pressed it to the minor cuts in his skin. He sucked in through his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut and puffing his cheeks in pain.

     "I'm sorry," You whispered helplessly, not really intending to be heard, but he heard you anyway.

     "It's okay," He groaned, "Its okay."

     You continued to scan his chest for cuts, grimacing when you found a particularly long and deep one on his arm.

     "You'll need stitches here." You said as you pulled the twine and scissors from the first aid kit. Beside him, Dean gave a groan of pain and laid back on the bed, throwing his forearm over his eyes, "I'm going as fast as I can, Dean."

     "Don't worry Y/n," Dean said reassuringly, "We woke you up in the middle of the night. You're doing fine." He had seen your hands shaking, your chest rising and falling quickly.

     You began to poke the needle through Sam's skin and draw him closed while he grimaced and looked away, squeezing the edge of your bed slightly. The trickling blood flow began to cease as you drew his skin closed and snipped the thread, wrapping his arm in clean white bandages and grasping his face gently in your hands.

     "If you ever scare me like this again, I will leave you to sew your pieces back together yourself." You said firmly, stroking his stubbly cheek with your thumb. He smiled and gave a breathy chuckle before pulling you to him in a crushing hug with his good arm, kissing your cheek.

     "I won't, I'm sorry, baby," He mumbled into your hair, "Can I go to bed now?"

     "Take some painkillers if you want them." You said, gesturing vaguely toward where the bottle sat on your dresser before turning your attention to Dean.

     "Dean, darling, sit up and let me look at you." You said, patting his knee as Sam left the room. He groaned and removed his arm from his eyes, sitting up oh so slowly. Immediately you could tell that he was worse than Sam.

     You simply sighed as you waited for him to strip out of his shirt and began stitching up a particularly deep cut across his chest, the blood still seeping out and staining your fingers an ominous red.

     "You've got to be more careful." You mumbled, your hands beginning to shake with emotion again, "What if next time they don't let you off so easy?--" Dean looked to you sympathetically-- "What- what if you or Sam comes home with something that I can't patch up?" Tears had began to form in your eyes and your voice raised slightly, "Or what if something happens and you don't come home at all? How am I supposed to- What do I-"

     "Y/n, baby," Dean pulled you into his embrace suddenly, halting your rant as your hands awkwardly held the twine that still waited to close his skin and your head fell to his shoulder, giving a long sniff, "Shh, that's never gonna happen."

     "I can't lose you," You whispered into his warm skin, "I can't."

     "You won't," Dean said firmly, pulling away and holding your face in his hands and lifting your chin, your eyes meeting his, "You won't."

     "Okay," You sniffed and nodded, wiping at your wet but not dripping eyes and grabbing at his stitches again, "I need to finish."

     He sat still while you sewed up his chest and wrapped his torso in bandages, dabbing alcohol and smaller bandages on some minor cuts and combing your fingers through his hair, feeling his skull for signs of a concussion.

     Once you were done, he simply sat on the edge of the bed, and the two of you stared at each other a few seconds before you fell forward and wrapped your arms around his neck, burying your face in his shoulder. He hugged you to him with a heavy sigh, his arms around your torso and hands gripping your shoulder blades lightly.

"God, I didn't know who you were at first," You whispered into him, and your voice suddenly went dark as you continued, "And then the lights came on and I saw all that blood."

"I'm sorry," Dean refused to let you say anymore as breathed emotionally into your hair, squeezing you tighter, "I'm so sorry."

"It's okay," You leaned back and kissed his cheek, giving a smile that he returned, "But if you scare me again I'll break your face."

He chuckled and patted your cheek softly, "Yeah, I have no doubt about that."

"Go get some sleep." You pulled him to his feet and pushed him toward the door, throwing his bloody shirt after him. He huffed a laugh and turned back to you, leaning in the doorframe.

"What, no goodnight kiss?" He said, and you rolled your eyes, but stepped closer and allowed him to press a kiss to the corner of your lips.

"Goodnight, Dean."

"Goodnight, Princess. Thank you for patching us up."

"Like I'd have been given a choice." You sassed, and Dean just rolled his eyes and disappeared out the door.

You flicked off your light and returned to the bed that now had blood stains on it and fell into it, exhausted. You turned off your lamp and snuggled deep into the comfort of the sheets.

However there were enough nightmares fueled by your beaten brothers to keep you up for the rest of the night.