You had just met the Winchesters a few days ago. You knew they were hunters based on the questions they were asking.
Apparently, your sister's ghost was hanging around and they were going to try and get rid of her. While you agreed with that, there was a problem.
"Do you mind telling us where she's buried," the Moose asked.
"She was cremated."
"Oh," he said in slight disappointment. Their job just got harder. "Well, do you have anything of hers?"
"Nothing you can have," you reaponded.
"And why is that," the squirrel asked.
"Because it's a part of me," you explained. "Look. I know you're hunters, and I am too. If you want to get rid of my sister, you're going to have to kill me."
They stared at you in shock for a few moments until the Moose asked, "And why would that be?"
"Because," you started, showing them part of the scar on your chest. "I got her heart."
The color drained from their faces. They obviously didn't think anything like this could happen.
"Is there anything else that she could be attached to," moosey asked.
"Nope," you responded nonchalantly. "This was the only organ that was taken out of her and it is in me. If you want to get rid her, you're going to have a very hard time."
__________
You were running as fast as your feet could carry you.
"(Y/N)," Dean yelled, trying to get your attention.
You weren't running from him, or his brother. You were running from the thing trying to kill you; the thing trying to take your heart.
Damn werewolves.
Your least favorite supernatural creature.
You continued to run until you felt your face against the asphalt. After struggling to break free, there was a searing pain in your chest.
"(Y/N)," you heard Sam yell.
Dean continued running after the werewolf after it took off, while Sam rushed to your side.
"(Y/N), I'm going to need you to stay with me, alright?"
You nodded, but could feel yourself slipping away.
"No no no no," he said. "Listen, (Y/N), you need to hold on. We will get you patched up, and you'll be just fine."
You could see in his eyes that he wasn't fully believing himself.
"I can't," you weakly admitted. The pain was too much, and you were slipping from reality.
"I'm sorry Sam," you said as you slipped away.
I know it was short, and I apologize.
Anyway; Part 2? I have something in mind.
