Supernatural Sister Imagines

Imagine #136: Infinite

Imagine: in the world of the Winchesters, there is loss. But now thanks to an inter-dimensional portal, what was lost has been found again.

Age: 20

Warnings: a little bit of language, angst, character death and a badass reader

Hello yes I promise I'm not dead and I'm sorry for the long hiatuses. I'd tell you that I'm going to upload regularly from now on but we both know that's bullshit. Next chap will probably be some self indulgent birthday stuff cause tomorrow is my birthday. Enjoy :)

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     Dean Winchester had once told his little brother Samuel that saying goodbye to his little sister was the hardest thing he had ever done.

     She was too young, he always said, too beautiful. It wasn't fair.

     He once told his little brother that laying her to rest in a grave beside their father's was the hardest thing he had ever done. It had rained relentlessly that day, as though the world was weeping the loss of its greatest hero just as much as those brothers were. And it was cold, so bitterly cold. Dean Winchester has been cold ever since.

     They had tried to bring her back, the way a dying fish tries to find water. After all, they'd long since learned that the end was never concrete, and there was always another page that could be turned. All three Winchesters had received some sort of Pass Go on this Monopoly game of living at some point, so it should've been easy to just find her another one.

     That's what it meant to be a Winchester, right? To be almighty. To be unstoppable. Einstein once said that every action must have an equal and opposite reaction, yet to their very souls they defied these laws of nature, bent them like they were nothing but blades of grass. To be a Winchester was to practically be a god.

     Maybe that's part of why it hurt so bad to learn that she wouldn't be coming home. Not this time. Not ever again. The rules of life versus death which, until this point, had seemed so insignificant suddenly applied and demanded they be obeyed. They could fight, they could hunt, they could sell their souls and break into Heaven and fall to their knees in a desperate beg while tears were the blades that sliced their stubbled cheeks, but it wasn't enough. For the first time, being a Winchester wasn't enough.

     There were many nights they lay awake. It was hard to stop a mind from running when the world refused not to spin. Was she happy, wherever she was? Was she with their father? Did she get to see Bobby again? Did she ever find the chance to rest?

     Would they be the monsters for trying to bring her back into this living hell at all?

     The bunker had never seemed quite so big. Sam's journey from his bedroom to the kitchen was now without one pit stop in the doorway of her room, where he would laugh as she danced to blasting rock or smile as she slept soundly in her bed. Dean's midnight ventures for snacks were now without the pleasant little giggles of her sneaking around on his heels. Jack's afternoon naps upon the couch were missing the honey drip of her voice as she pet his hair and sang him to sleep.

     Castiel became very familiar with an unplayed chess board. He learned what it meant to mourn a best friend.

     Every second that passed was a second spent begging, pleading, soaking at half speed in the memory of what her voice sounded like when she laughed or the way her fingers felt when they would cup his cheek or how her eyes sparkled when she cried. Shadows would catch their eyes and they'd dart around corners in hopes that they'd catch a glimpse of her, hear the whispers of a giggle on the breeze or feel a brush of her lips against their forehead. Greedily they would take drink after drink into them and thank the gods for those fleeting moments of feeling nothing at all. For three years they'd chase after sideways moments that lived in memory rather than in hand.