Multifandom Oneshots

Gone, or Just Broken. (Sam Winchester Imagine)

(A/N: So I completely forgot to credit TheWickedOneComes with this idea, as it was totally on her and I just rolled withthe inspiration.)

Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.

The hay and leaves under your feet were dry as bones. Walking alone in that abandoned barn, you thought it must have been far too silent. Even with the crackling. And you were on edge for any noise because you'd been called to this barn in Illinois by the one person you loved enough to drop everything and come here for.

You'd been called here by Sam. And there should have been nothing more surprising than that, given that Sam was dead, and had been for a year and a half, to your knowledge. He'd died saving the world, and was stuck in the deepest pit of Hell with the Devil himself and Michael the archangel. How's that for a hero's way to go?

But Sam was a Winchester, and if you knew the Winchesters at all, you knew that they didn't stay dead, not for long. And that the consequences for that were...not nice. In that moment, though, when you'd heard his voice say your name on the other end of the line, heard him say "I need you, come find me," well, you couldn't care less if the whole Apocalypse started again.

Crunch. Crunch Crunch...Nothing.

You stood absolutely still, listening, gun in hand.

Crunch.

You spun, gun up and ready to aim and fire, only to freeze. Your eyes widened in shock, and slowly, ever so slowly, a smile crept across your face as tears began to fall. Your voice was a broken whisper as you choked, "Sammy?"

Sam Winchester smiled at you. "Hey, (Y/N). Long time, no see."

You nodded, slowly lowering the gun. "It's...it's really you?"

"You want me to do the usual routine?" You nodded. Sam pulled a silver knife out of his pocket and rolled up his sleeve. Very calmly...too calmly...he sliced a thin cut in his arm. When that didn't fizzle, he pulled a small container of holy water from his pocket and splashed a little in his face. "Salt?" You threw him a container, and he took a handful and ate it.

Nervously, you chuckled. "No need to show off, Moose." Sam just smiled and shrugged. "How long have you been topside?"

"About six months," Sam said, looking down to put away his knife. "Listen, (Y/N), we need help on a case. There's a couple of vamps in the next town over, and they've got the jump on us. They've got Dean. I need backup to get him..."

Click-click.

Sam looked up to find a gun pointed at his face, and sighed. "Why?" he asked, sounding almost bored.

"You've been alive for six months, and never, not once, thought to call."

"How rude of me-"

"Shut the hell up, I wasn't finished," you snarled, taking a few steps toward him. "You also stopped to call me all the way out here just for a vamp case, while Dean was kidnapped."

"I just said-"

"I said shut up." The gun was a yard from Sam's chest. There were tears in your eyes but your voice was steady. "The Sam I knew...the Sam I loved would've gone straight in. Trusted that he and Dean could've won out whatever the situation."

"Then the Sam you knew was an idiot." He moved faster than you were expecting, and the next sound in the room was your gun clattering against the ground and you crying out as he pinned you next to it, face down.

"What happened to you?"

"I got some sense." You struggled to look up at the frighteningly calm figure holding you. You managed to catch a glimpse of his face, still collected, practically bored if not annoyed, and the tears you'd been fighting finally fell.