Supernatural Imagines [ABANDONED]

Time Warp-Part 2

It's my mom's birthday!!!

Sam x reader

Son/Daughter!Reader (inserts aaahhhhh)

*Gender Neutral*

1683 words.

~

Sam's face is slack, "My...(son/daughter)?" He manages.

"Don't worry," you tell him. "The condom didn't break when you were..." You do some calculations. "Sixteen?"

"How do you know how old he is?"

You ignore Dean and direct your next question at Sam. "It is 2015 isn't it?"

Dean stares at you in disbelief. "What kind of question is that?"

You don't look at him when you reply, "A legitimate one."

"It's 2005," Sam tells you.

Your stomach drops. "2005?" You say weakly. "2005. Shit. Shit!" Your curses echo off the walls of the panic room. "Fuck! God Damn it, Cas!"

"What, you miss your friend's birthday or something?" Dean quips.

You shoot him a heated glare and he backs down, hands up in surrender. You let out a groan of frustration, tangling your fingers violently in your hair. "I'm in the wrong damn year."

Sam steps forward. "Who's Cas?"

The question is the cherry on top of your angry sundae. "Shit!" You yell again, kicking the aluminum chair.

"Alright, who is Cas and what do you mean by 'in the wrong year'?" Dean's back into questioning mode.

You sigh, taking a seat again and rubbing your temples. "I can't answer the first question, but-"

"Why not?" Sam asks abruptly, still staring at you.

You glance at him tiredly. "Put the gun away, please."

"No," is Dean's immediate response. "Who's Cas?"

"I. Can't. Tell. You," You say firmly. "You haven't met him yet." Out of the corner of your eye, you see Sam stow his gun in his waistband.

Dean rolls his eyes and exhales sharply. "Obviously. I'd love to meet him and have nice little-"

"Not what I meant."

"Tell us what you did mean, then." Dean steps closer, towering over you. But by now, you're just tired and his intimidation attempts don't affect you. "I meant," you say not looking at him. "Where I come from, Cas is an old friend and practically my uncle and here, you haven't met him yet."

You let your eyes settle on Sam, watching as his face goes through a range of emotions-from intensity to frustration to confusion to puzzlement to realization.

"Are you saying..." He trails off, unwilling to say the words.

"I'm from the future," you finish. "Surprise." It's sarcastic, but your voice is devoid of any humor.

"That's impossible." Dean, always the skeptic. An angel literally approaches him, smashing lightbulbs with his mere presence, not batting an eye at holy water or silver knives, and Dean still says, "Get the hell out of here. There's no such thing."

"You're hunters," you reply simply. "All the magical shit you see, is it really so hard to believe?"

"But how?" Sam, always the question asker.