Supernatural Preferences and Imagines

Conventions- Team Free Will

You were sulking around the motel you were staying at. Your brothers had come home from yet another hunt they hadn't let you go on. You were just laying on the couch, bored.

Picking a gun up from the table, you spun the chamber, there was five bullets. You sighed, why not?

Bang. Bang. Bang.

You shot without even looking at the spray paint picture of Crowley.

Dean and Sam came racing into the room, after breaking down the door, armed with guns and knives. They both had panicked expressions as their eyes roamed over the room before finally finding you.

"What the Hell are you doing?! We are in a motel, you know!" Dean shouted.

"Bored," you muttered in a low voice.

"What?" Sam leaned forwards.

"Bored!" you shouted, jumping up. Sam barely had time to mutter a "no" before you fired again; A shot with an arm extended in front of you, another with your arm behind your back. The two bullets nailing your target right where you wanted to hit it.

You lowered your arm and Dean stepped forwards and took the gun, satisfied when he found that there were no more bullets left for you to shoot.

Your brothers shared a look.

"You're bored so you take it out on the wall?"

"Crowley had it coming and you haven't taken me on any hunts," you scoffed. "I had to practice somehow." You looked expectantly up at your brothers. "Speaking of... any hunts?"

"We just got back from one! Why do you expect us to find something now?" Dean glanced at you. You shrugged and started pacing.

"Maybe there's a reason you aren't taking me," you said after about ten minutes of silence.

"Y/n-" Sam groaned.

"Was it because I got hurt during that Wendigo hunt?" You stopped walking, turning at your heel and starting over at your brothers.

"We just don't want you to get hurt again," Dean said quietly.

"You think I'm useless!" You yelled. "I can tell you one thing for certain: I'm a better shot than the both of you and I can handle myself."

At that moment, Sam's other-other phone buzzed. He glanced over to you before cautiously putting his hand in his pocket and drew out his phone.

"It's a text from Chuck."

"Chuck Shurley?" Dean questioned.

"Yeah, get this, he wants us to come to one of his conventions. Apparently they are getting pretty popular now that the fans spread the word of the real ghost last time. He wants you to 'come and make sure everything is safe.'"

"Uhg-" Dean groaned rubbing his face with his hands.

"I'll go," you chirped. Sam turned at you so quickly, his hair flew in an arch around him. "I mean seriously, I understand why he wants us. A lot of people coming to a convention about Supernatural, who knows? A demon might decide to pick up a meat suit on the way."

"Not alone," Sam sighed, "I'll go with you."

You let out a huff.

"I guess I'll go too."

The three of you drove down to the convention; a day's ride from your motel.

It was a good thing you left when you did, the police showed us right as you exited the motel driveway. Someone must have called after the gunshots.