Supernatural Imagines

In Your Room

"Where's my journal?" You asked, curiosity rather than fury in your voice.

"Hmm?" Dean mumbled. Both the brothers had the lights to the room shut off, stretched out on two couches and watching a black and white movie.

You debated whether to turn off the movie or turn on the lights. Instead, you strode briskly to the center of the floor, blocking the view of the television.

"Where. Is my. Journal." Your voice took on a slightly hard edge. The boys frequently went through your things, using your notes to help translate writings they needed help on, or just borrowing your own mythology books. If they accidentally found your pad stash or dirty underwear, it was their own fault. But this was your journal, a thick leather bound notebook with your name scratched into the front with a dried out pen. You'd had it for two years now, and only wrote down your rants and most private thoughts in it. So if one of the boys had snuck off with it to read it, you were going to be pissed. Right before you'd light yourself on fire out of embarrassment.

"Journal?" Dean asked, dumbfounded.

Sam was snoring gently, one arm over his face. You yanked the pillow out from under his head and smacked him with it. He jolted back to consciousness. "Wha-? Who died? Is there a vampire in the bunker?"

"Worse." You replied evenly, though it felt as if there were hot coals in your stomach.

His eyebrows came together for a split second. "What's wrong?"

"She's going on about some journal or something..." Dean waved vaguely in the air, "Look, Y/N, I'm sure it's around here somewhere, but I want to see the tv."

"And I want to see my journal. And you can see the tv as soon as I see my journal." You felt your face reddening.

"I don't have it, Sam doesn't have it," he glanced at his brother, "Right? You don't have it either?"

Sam shook his head, couch-hair bouncing about. "I can help you look for it," He staggered to his feet. "This is a crappy movie anyway."

Dena gave an indignant "hey!" and threw a crumpled ball of foil from some nearby fast food place at him. You glared at the older brother, who was too busy with the screen to notice.

"Where'd you leave it?" Sam asked as you entered the closest hallway, which held your bedrooms.

"My room. On the shelf where I always keep it."

"Okay, we'll find it. Calm down." He rubbed at his eyes, sleep still clinging to his body. He rummaged through the bookcase next to your closet for a few minutes while you unzipped all the pockets on your hunting duffle, letting the contents tumble onto your pink and green flowered comforter.

"It's not in my bag."

"It's not on the shelf either."

"Who came into my room last?"

"Dean did earlier when you were getting dinner."

"Why?"

"He... Uh.... He needed a lore book.... Um...."

His sluggishness was driving you up the wall. "Then he has to have it!" You snapped unexpectedly, and Sam raised an eyebrow at you. "What?"

"Nothing, nothing. Just, uh, let's just check my room. It might be in my room."

"Why would it be in yours?"

"I don't know, you never know." He was already out the door.

Doing what you wanted to was going to be risky. You never went riffling through the brothers' rooms without permission first. But Dean and Sam were both distracted....

Slowly, you pushed Dean's door open, praying that it wouldn't creak. Immediately by the door was a desk, and on that desk was a pile six or seven books high, your books, the third one down being a leather bound notebook.....

In anguish, you took it from the stack, toppling the ones on top of it. "Ahem...."

You stomped back into the room, the light from the tv illuminating the older brother's face.

"Did you find it?" He asked, eyes glued to the television.

"Yeah. I found it. In your room."