Supernatural Sister Imagines

Imagine #119: Missing

I'm sorry I haven't posted in awhile. I don't really have any excuses other than writer's block, and I feel terrible but I wouldn't be surprised if this chapter is shitty. The spark in me isn't there like it used to be. Nothing's the same.

Imagine: Sam and Dean go missing on a hunt, and the reader goes damn near insane searching for them.

Age: 16

This imagine is dedicated to notyourgxrl_ cause I changed a few things but for the most part this was her prompt.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, possibly language

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     "Are you sure I can't come with you?" I desperately grasped the fabric of Sam's shirt, worry itching at my chest and terror lurking in my heart, "What if something happens?"

     Sam turned back to face me with a warm, empathetic smile, dropping his duffel bag to the concrete floor of the garage so he could pull me to him, gently pushing my head onto his chest and kissing my scalp softly. I released a long sigh and closed my eyes, breathing in the smell of wood and pine needles that brought me so much comfort.

     Sam placed his chin on my head and rubbed my back. "I know you're scared. I know you don't like when we go on hunts without you, but have we ever lied when we promised you we'd come home?" Even if reluctantly, I shook my head and he went on, "We'll only be gone a week, maybe less. It's a simple hunt. We'll be fine."

     The garage door slamming behind me signified Dean's arrival as Sam released me and retrieved his bag off the floor, tossing it into the trunk of Baby. Dean quickly took Sam's place, kissing my forehead repeatedly as I squeezed him as tightly as I dared.

     "Promise me you'll come back safe." I commanded in a soft voice, and he chuckled as he let go of me, ruffling my hair.

     "It's like you have no faith in our abilities, Y/n."

     "I'm serious, Dean."

     He stared at me a moment before giving another quiet chuckle and kissing me once more. "I promise," He put his bag in the car beside Sam's and shut the trunk, sliding into the driver's seat and glancing at me, "I love you."

     "I love you too, boys. Be careful." I said, and they nodded as Dean started Baby and backed out of the garage. I watched them go, worry nagging in my brain like a worm.

     "One week," I murmured softly as Baby disappeared from view, "One week."

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     That was two weeks ago.

     Every day for seven days, Dean called me and told me that he and Sam were fine, told me he loved me and that they'd be home soon. Every day for seven days, I stared at my phone with an ever-rising trickle of dread, watching the waters pool around my ankles and soak into my jeans and rise up to chill my bones, until my screen would light up and the waters would drain away, only to begin leaking in again the next day.

     And on the eighth day, there was nothing to stop the flood, no ringtone or telltale buzz to halt the waters that threatened to rise above my head and stop my breath in my throat.

By the ninth day, I had called them tens of times, and before the tenth even rolled around, I was jumping into one of the trucks in the garage and driving as fast as I dared to where they promised they'd be.