Supernatural Preferences & Imagines

Dean and Sam Imagine

Shoot to Thrill

You let out a huff of breath, your sides clenching in pain. "Damnit to hell," you cursed at the creature and yourself, shoving the boys behind you; trying hard to not notice their wounds.

"It isn't them you want, it's me! You bastard!" You screamed, running straight at the creature. It hissed and ran at you too, all common sense flying out the window.

-48 hours earlier-

"[Y/N]," Dean complained, sitting up from laying down. "You're not going anywhere," Sam threatened, walking beside you. Nodding, you gave Dean a stern mother look. Dean sauntered on over to you two, scoffing. "Like hell I am. What are we hunting?" He said, grabbing his things and opening the motel door.

You sighed, deeming it no use. He wasn't going to listen. Sam frowned but followed suit, grabbing his stuff and heading out to the Impala. "Well, there has been a string of murders in a small town. Half beheaded, other half torn limb from limb until bleeding out." You explained, hurrying and grabbing your things to catch up with the boys. You slid into the back seat, closing the door as Dean started up the car. "Sounds like us." Sam reasoned, getting comfortable for the long ride.

"Finally! Told you beheading was our thing, Sammy." Dean spoke over the music that he turned on. You let out a breathless laugh, leaning back in the seat and watching the two brothers. Your eyes softened and a small smile crept up on your lips, your muscles going lax. Sometimes, you wondered how you were so lucky to land two guys like them. They were practically your brothers since you were 21—when you got attacked and discovered the truth of the world. Sam chuckled lightly at something Dean said, making you just wish everything wasn't so heavy and dark. You preferred this instead; where the brothers weren't so at odds with each other and you could all get along like a family.

A broken, misfortunate, murderous family.

Eventually, the hum of the engine, the music softly playing in the background, and Sam and Deans small chatter lulled you to a peaceful and deep sleep.

-24 hours before-

"...here..." "...ake up we..." You groaned and opened your eyes, seeing the two brothers staring at you with concern. "You were out like a light," Dean said. "Even though we only drive for hours, you sure packed in a lot of sleep." You swatted at them both, muttering about them to involved in protecting their small circle. "We're at Garden Hill, right?" You questioned Dean, pausing as you were opening the door. Dean nodded, getting out. "I'm not an idiot, sweetie." He called before slamming the door shut.

You rolled your eyes before getting out and adjusting your pencil skirt, hating you had to dress up this way. "Sure, right this way agents." The sheriff lead you and the boys to the crime scene, you wincing at the sight. The poor guys guts and intestines were ripped out, his hands and feet torn off and scattered around him, his head gone and only his eyes and tongue remained where his head should be. In his torn off hands, you noticed his nails had something stuck under them. His own intestines.

You crouched at the full body, observing and examining. "Whatever happened here," you said to Sam and Dean, "the poor guy seemed to have done it himself. Something compelled him to do it—but what and why?" Sam straightened up, clearing his throat. Dean leaned over to you, whispering in your ear with a slight laugh.

"No guts, no glory."

Your eyes practically bulged out of your head as you tried to not laugh. Finally, a small snicker escaped you. It attracted attention, making you blush and whack Dean in his chest. Sam glared daggers at you two, making you stick out your tongue at him when no one was watching.