Supernatural Preferences

Sam Imagine

Sam was lying on the hospital bed, a tube down his throat, countless others connected to him everywhere. He looked weak, pale. You almost couldn't believe someone his size could look like that.

Of course you'd been the one to get out of the accident easy. All you had was a broken leg. Nothing like him. You weren't even sure what was all wrong inside of him, just that it was something horrible. The doctors weren't even sure he could last through the day.

You knew Sam would hate it. Dean would, too, and that's why you didn't tell him. You hadn't told anyone. Cas had been absentee lately, and Charlie was back at her house.

You kicked the dirt over the small box. You hoped it would come. You needed it to come.

"(Y/N), so good to finally meet you."

You turned around. There stood the crossroads demon. You sighed a little. "Cut the shit," you said. "Cure Sam, give me ten years. Please." You hated the desperation in your voice.

"Hmm," it said, smirking. "How about one year?"

"The deal is always-"

"That's for normal people. You're as far from normal as you can get. And you're desperate. You can't live without Sammy. So it's one year, or your precious man's hourglass keeps running down."

You sighed. You hated it. But it was better than nothing. "Fine," you said. "Fine."

It smiled, coming closer. "How about that kiss?"

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

You drove back to the hospital as fast as you could. "Sam!" you cried when you saw him sitting up in his bed. The throat tube was gone. He looked healthy. He looked fine.

He wrapped his arms tightly around you, pulling you close. You buried your face in his neck.

It was worth it, you thought. So, so worth it.

As you pulled back, Dean looked at you with an expression beyond rage. It said, What did you do?

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

After Sam fell asleep, Dean drug you into an alley behind the hospital. "What did you do?" he hissed, pushing you against the wall. His fingers were rough and tight on your shoulders.

"What I had to," you said softy, holding his wrists. "Dean...I had to."

"No you didn't!" he yelled. He was so close, it hurt your ears.

"It was me or you, Dean!"

"How long do you get?" he whispered.

"A year. I've got a whole year with Sammy."

He sighed, his eyes closing in pain. He leaned against you, and you wrapped your arms around him. "It's okay," you whispered. "I'm happy. I'm with Sammy now. For a whole year. I would've done that for one damn day."

"I know," Dean whispered. "I would have too. It should've been me."

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AN: this is going to be a few part story. It'll be sad but happier at the end. Bear with me!