In this imagine, you are the middle child.
Warning: self-esteem issues, self-harm.
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Another hunt, another crappy motel, another school you wouldn't be at for long.
Twelve year old Dean was sitting shotgun, a nine year old you was sitting behind him, and an eight year old Sam was sitting behind your dad.
"Do we have to," you asked, tired of moving around. Why couldn't he let her death go? She died eight years ago, and he wouldn't let this go.
"(Y/N), I swear if you ask that one more time-,"
"Dad," Dean interrupted.
John let out a quiet sigh, remembering that you were still his kid, and he still had to get through this hunt so he could listen to you complain more. He laughed at the thought of another long drive in the same car as you.
"Yes, (Y/N)," he restated. "You have to."
"Ugh," you moaned.
The car pulled up into the parking lot in front of the motel a few hours later and you had fallen asleep. Not wanting to wake you, Dean carried you inside. Look at who used to be a softy.
________
"(Y/N)," Dean said softly. "Time to get up."
You turned over to the other side and heard Dean chuckle at how stubborn you were.
"A true Winchester at heart," he said under his breath. "I will do it."
You immediately sat up in bed. You were not letting him force you out of bed. You hated it when he tickled you.
An hour later, you all were ready and out the door.
Yay, you sarcastically thought. Another school.
You walked in through the elementary school doors with Sam, making sure he knew where to go.
"If you get in trouble," you scolded.
"I'll surely regret it," Sam mocked with a smile on his face. He'd heard this plenty of times before.
"Good," you said proudly. "Have a good day, Sammy."
"Bye, (Y/N)," Sam called before enetering the classroom.
You were making your way to your class when some asshole "accidentally" bumped into you. You knew it was on purpose when he said sarcastically, "Oops. Sorry."
You went to pick your supplies up when a girl came up to you and helped you pick them up.
"Thanks," you told her.
"No problem," she responded, clearly irritated. She then proceeded to extend her arm. "Natasha."
"(Y/N)," you responded, shaking her hand.
"Where are you off to?"
"Mr. McClure's room," you told her.
"Me too! I'll show you where to go."
You followed her and realized that you just made a friend.
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Recess. That dreaded time of the day when the bullies could easily get to you.
You found Sam, and noticed him sitting there alone.
"Hey, Sam," you said sitting next to him. "How's your day been so far?"
"Fine," he told you.
