Supernatural Imagines

Where were you? (Dean + reader's daughters) (part 1)

"Please, Y/N?"

"Ughh," you groaned, "Fine, just shhh."

Your little sister gave a triumphant whoop and fist-pounded the air. She was so much like Mom, with her bright yet tired eyes.

You squinted at the scrap of paper you'd found inside the study a few hours earlier. The phone rang twice, then a gruff voice cleared their throat and asked, "Who is this and why do you have my number?" It came out sounding harsh, but half-asleep at the same time.

"I-I'm sorry to disturb you," you glanced at the paper, "Dean? This is Dean, right?"

"Yeah."

A tense silence crackled over the phone. "Well, umm... Me and my sister, we, well, we were going through my mom's study, and we found this piece of paper and it said to call this number for emergencies only."

All of a sudden this 'Dean' seemed wide awake and full of worry. "What happened?"

"Um... I don't know if this is considered an emergency, Zoey's been begging forever to have me call, but.... Our mom, I'm assuming you knew her?"

"Ellie...." He murmured your mother's name in a misty voice.

"Ummm... Ellie, our mom, she... Died. Yesterday." It pained you to admit out loud that the person you'd cared so much for the past three years was gone from your life forever. Even though you weren't blood, she was still your mother.

"I'll be right over. 362?" He wanted confirmation on the house number.

"Yeah, wait, how did you-?" The line went dead.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dean wasn't "right over". You waited all afternoon expectantly, but no unfamiliar cars pulled into the drive, only neighbors and distant relatives wanting to check up on you and Zoey. At one point toward night, your little sister's godmother- Jillian- stayed for an hour, riffling through your mother's bedroom. She stared wet-eyed at photos of her and 'El' when they were in junior high and high school. You knew she was grieving, and you wanted to grieve along with her, but you had to be strong in front of everyone, Zoey most of all.

You woke with a start when your phone danced across the glass side table next to the couch you were camped out on. Cautiously, you reached over, attempting not to move too much. You let Zoey build a fort out of sheets and chairs from the kitchen table, one end of the blanket tucked under the cushions you were lying on.

"Hmm?" You mumbled.

"When's the funeral?"

"Wha-?"

"When is Ellie's funeral?" Your brain didn't register Dean's voice until then.

"Saturday... In the evening. She wanted it to be early, so the people who showed up for the funeral could see the sunset."

Dean didn't reply for a long minute. It sounded almost like he was faintly sniffling. "Dean?" You asked tentatively.

"Yeah, yeah," he replied quickly. "That sounds... Like her."

"Can you explain what this is all about?"

"I'm another day away. I should make it to the house by noon on Saturday, just umm... How old are you,...?"

"Y/N."

"How old are you, Y/N?"

"Nineteen."

"Hmm..."

"Ellie adopted me. Zoey's eleven, she's mom's blood daughter," you rubbed your eyes with your free hand, "Dean, you haven't told me yet who you are."

"I was close with... Your mother, way back when."

"Oh. That makes sense. Were you co-workers?"

"How did she.... How'd she die?" He avoided the question.

"She got sick. She had cancer."

"For how long?"

"About five months....... It got really bad towards the end."

"She never told me...."