Supernatural Preferences and Imagines

-.-Their Death-.-

This is like the -.-Your Death-.- chapter. I know I said I would be nice, but... I got bored with all the happy.

TRIGGER WARNING!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I talked to my friends and they all said the same thing for Sam's death. Writing his triggered me badly, and I want to let you all know, ahead of time, to ALWAYS KEEP FIGHTING! You are not alone, okay? You are loved, whether it may not seem like it sometimes. There are ALWAYS more alternatives to hurting yourself and suicide. There are people willing to help, me as one of them.

I have gone through this before. I've hurt myself and attempted the unthinkable but I survived! And I'm GLAD THAT I SURVIVED. I got the help I needed, and the Supernatural family helped me as well. I am much happier now and I'm living proof that this depression does not endure.

I love you all, okay? I believe in you.

Dean-

Dean always told you that when he went out, he would go out with a gun in hand.

And that was what he did.

It was close to dawn, the sun was about to reach the horizon. Neither of you had slept that night, as you had some werewolves to kill. You and Dean were wandering the streets and alleyways, tracking down the killer of three innocent people. Sam was keeping an eye from above, staying at the apartment of the werewolf in case he came back.

There was a loud clatter down the street and you nodded to Dean, and left him him to investigate. As you walked down, you noticed that it was just an alley cat who had knocked down a trash can in order to pull out some scraps.

"Y/n!" there was a shout from around the corner, near where you had left Dean. Shortly after, a shot rang out.

"Dean!" you yelled as you turned and sprinted back where you had came. You skidded around the corner to see your husband mauled down the chest. "No!"

You raised your gun, seeing Dean hit the beast below the heart, as the werewolf went in for the bite. You fired and hit your target. The werewolf let out a pained noise and collapsed on top of your husband.

You wasted no time pulling Dean away, propping him up against the wall, and assessing the wounds.

He was bleeding badly. You knew it would be fatal if you didn't do something.

"Did he bite you?" you asked Dean, taking off your flannel and using it to try and stop the blood flow.

"No," Dean flinched. You pulled out your phone and dialed Sam.

"Sam," you choked, "I need you to come down. Quickly. Bring every medical supply. It's Dean, he's hurt."

You grit your teeth and applied more pressure, but there were too many wounds to staunch. You heard Dean hiss in pain, trying his best to conceal it.

There was so much blood. His face was pale, he wouldn't last much longer.

"Son of a bitch," he muttered. "Of all things, a werewolf?"

"Don't say that," you snapped.

"I'm serious."

"So am I. We can save you, Dean."

He held your gaze for a moment, eyes full of guilt and adoration. He then coughed violently, blood splattering across his legs. You could only watch in horror as his face continued loosing color and his eyes faded.

"Dean-" your voice broke and a tear streamed down your cheek. "Don't leave me, not like this."

You watched as he grabbed his gun and met your gaze. You shook your head, but forced back more tears. You kissed his forehead and softly started singing 'Carry On Wayward Son,' knowing that was his favorite song. You sat down beside him and rested your head on his shoulder.