Supernatural Imagines [ABANDONED]

My World Has Somehow Shifted

gUESS WHO'S BACK BITCHES!!!!

Winchester brothers x reader

Sister/brother!Reader

Warning: torture

2385 words

*Gender neutral* Sorry the inserts suck.

~

You're sitting in the library when the door to the bunker slams. You glance up from your laptop as you listen to the metallic patter of the Winchesters' footsteps as they jog down the steps.

"Hey boys," you call. "How'd it go?"

"Pretty open and shut," Dean replies from around the corner. You hear the thuds as they drop their bags heavily, the sounds joined by exhausted sighs. "Just a couple of shifters."

You laugh and shake your head. "Can't remember the last time a shifter case was open and shut. Damn tricky bastards."

Sam and Dean both enter the library and plop down in seats across from you. "Had us going for a while," Sam tells you. "but we got 'em in the end."

"You the only one here?" Dean asks, tapping his fingers against the table.

You nod. "Yep. Charlie stopped by for a while, though. Had a case for us." You push the article towards Dean. While he reads quietly, you continue your online search.

"How's he doing anyway?" Sam asks nonchalantly after a moment.

You stop typing and glance at him. "You mean 'she'? Last I checked, Charlie was a girl."

Dean and Sam share a look. They look...nervous. Panicked. Shit. You don't think that shifter case was quite as open and shut as they made it out to be.

You clear your throat. "Hey, Dean, you alright? You look like something's gotten under your skin." You glance up from your computer to see his reaction to your use of code.

"I'm fine."

"Just checking," you mutter, attempting to appear casual. Nothing is wrong. Everything's fine. Sam and Dean are just who they appear to be. You rise and go to the bookshelf behind them. You run your fingers along the rough leather of the spines, pretending to look for a specific title. You glance over your shoulder to see the two brothers immersed in the lore books in front of them. Sam is tapping his fingers on his leg. Dean's knee is bouncing erratically. Normally, you would have asked what was wrong, but you know exactly what is wrong. Slowly, being sure they aren't watching, you draw your silver knife from your waistband. The gun is in the drawer of the desk across the room. Getting it now is too risky. Slowly, quietly you creep up behind the shifter posing as Dean. Now or never.

Suddenly the shifter jumps up, turns around, and thrusts a blade toward your heart in one swift motion. You barely have time to react, throwing up your own knife in a sloppy, ill-timed block. The shock grinds up your forearm and you grit your teeth in pain. With a purposeful shove, you unlock your blade and send the shifter back a step. Grunting, he comes in for another swing, but this time you're ready for him. He's stronger, but you can tell he has less experience with his weapon. You block him easily and deftly twist the knife so his wrist bends at an awkward angle. His hand shoots open and he falls to his knees, clutching his arm. You kick his dropped knife away, sending it skittering across the wooden floor.

The shifter looks up at you, defiance in his eyes. His jaw muscle twitches. You step forward, holding the knife to his throat. He leans back ever so slightly.

"Where are my brothers you son of a bitch?" you demand through gritted teeth. He keeps his mouth closed defiantly, his lips stretched into a thin line. His green eyes flicker over you shoulder.