Supernatural Sister Imagines

Imagine #60: Long Way To Run

This imagine is dedicated to amara_smiles

Imagine: You are Sam and Dean's half sister. Demon!Dean kills your pregnant cousin, however is cured soon after. You fear and hate Dean in his newly reformed state because of what he did, but he doesn't remember doing it.

Age: 16

Her body was so cold, so stiff in my arms.

My hand found her swollen belly.

Touched it.

The blood that followed me as I pulled my hand away made me sick.

She was really dead.

Both of them, they were dead.

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Tears streamed down my face as I silently stared upon her grave, my hands shoved in the pockets of my peacoat, the jacket bundled close to my frame. A light wind drifted throughout the cemetery, pulling a piece of hair from my head and sending it flapping gently in the breeze, struggling to break from my scalp but unable to get too far. The nip of the cold tinted my pale cheeks a rosy, lovely pink, and had the circumstances been different, it would've been a beautiful sight of a beautiful girl.

But soon my tears fell away, and my face hardened into a blank nothing as I looked down at her name through squinted eyes; read it over and over; told myself she wasn't really down there; told myself she was about to tap me on the shoulder and tell me it was time to go home.

The tap never came.

What did was a phone call.

I was tempted not to pick it up, until I pulled my phone from my pocket and looked through eyes blurred with leftover tears to see Sam's name sprawled across the screen. I gave a heavy sigh, anxiety striking my heart. I knew why he was calling.

"Yeah?" My voice was soft and coarse as I pulled the phone to my ear, static crackling through the speaker. Sam's voice broke the static and I was up and running before he even finished his sentence.

"Y/n, it's Dean." Sam said, his voice both relieved and grim, "He's back."

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My hand hovered over the door of the dungeon, shaking like mad as I took a few deep breaths, willing myself to just woman up and open it.

     I knew what was waiting beyond it. What was waiting was my brother.

     But what was my brother was a killer.

Eventually I gave my head a sharp shake, forced my hand to steady, and threw the door open.

Sam stood beside him, and I felt a wave of relief-- so strong it made my knees buckle-- run over me as I took in his eyes, no longer black but returned to their lovely, candy green.

And yet, I couldn't bring myself to move toward him. Couldn't bring myself to hug him or kiss him or be happy because 'all was well in the world now'.

He killed her.

I remember that.

"Hey there, tiger," Dean said softly, a smile drifting upon his face, "Miss me?"

"You're back." I responded, my voice quiet and somewhat blunt. Dean held his hands out to either side, looking down at himself before back up to me.

"I'm all me," He confirmed, before waving me toward him, "C'mere."

"N--No." I said slowly, and the surprise on his face was evident.

     "No?" He echoed, confused and hurt.

     "You killed her." I spoke with a belittled vehemence, my voice dark and gruff, broken by what could be considered nothing less than a growl, and yet my eyes remained soft, glistening at him with such pain.

     "Killed her? Killed who? Sam, did I kill somebody?" Dean asked, going into a slight panic as he looked first at me, then to Sam. Sam pursed his lips together, hesitating, but eventually he nodded.

     "(Your cousin's name)." He spoke so quietly I almost didn't hear him say it, but when he did I felt a wave of emotion roll over me; of anger and fear and grief and betrayal all at once. Dean's eyes watered, and he looked down at his hands as though he could still see the blood that once stained them.

     "I didn't--" He stuttered, "I don't remember--"

     "You did!" I snapped suddenly, my eyes aflame with anger as I punched the air in front of me, spit flying from my mouth as I screamed at him, "You took a knife and you drug it across her neck and dug it into her stomach and you killed her! You killed the baby!"

     Dean reeled back as though he'd been struck at the mention of the child, knees buckling as he gripped the edge of the table behind him to steady himself.

     "The baby--?" He murmured much to himself, tears streaming down his cheeks. Eventually he looked to me again, took a step forward; reached for me with desperate eyes, "Y/n, baby, please. I don't remember. I didn't do it. It wasn't me."

     "No, don't touch me!" I cried, fear lighting my eyes as I flinched away from him, drawing my hands close to my chest.

     It was when I flinched that he broke completely. He froze, watching as I pulled my hands away. He looked into my eyes; saw the terror that was plastered there; saw the haunting shadows of blood. His worst nightmare was coming true. He hurt me.

     "Y/n." He breathed, unable to bring himself to say anything else. Tears leaked down both his and my face as I gave the smallest, slightest, most broken shake of my head.

     "No," I mumbled, glancing at Sam behind Dean as I backed toward the door, "You killed her."

     I turned tail and ran then.

     I ran out of the dungeon.

     Up the stairs.

     Out the door.

     I ran until I didn't have the strength to run anymore, not caring where my legs took me. I just wanted to be away.

     It wasn't until I found myself standing outside the cemetery once again that I realized I had no where to go.