Supernatural Imagines X Reader

Ghostfacers! Part 3

You woke up in an old room that felt homey. The first thing that you smelled was wood and sunlight. The soft plaid blankets that you were tucked in felt so comforting and you felt like you needed comfort. Your brain felt foggy though, like you were trying to think through cotton wool.

Oh gosh. Why did you need comfort? You sat up quickly as the memories flooded back into you and you realized that you weren't anywhere familiar because shit had hit the fan for you. Your mind rolled all those memories around violently and gave you a slight headache. Were your memories real? Maybe you'd been drugged. You put your feet on the ground and then felt a pain in your chest. You took a deep breath and then lifted up your shirt and jumped. The sight of the injury actually shocked you into remembering exactly what happened there in that spot. The ghost was real.

You closed your eyes as more memories flooded into you in an uncomfortable, broken up way. It felt like a flashlight being flickered on in your eyes. It hurt your brain. It reminded you of those movies that flashed bits and pieces in a psychedelic way.

Instead of waiting for it to finish, you stepped off of the bed and immediately collapsed. You bit your lip In annoyance as you tried to get yourself up. There was no way in hell that the thump you made had gone unheard.

Unheard by whom? You realized that you still didn't realize who you were dealing with.

Just as you heaved yourself into a sitting position on the floor, the door flew open and you squeaked out a surprised, scared yelp.

"Jeeze, here, let me help you." An older guy with a beard and a plaid shirt rushed in when he saw you on the ground.

"Well holy hell, why the heck would you get up? You've ripped your stitches." He told you off in a caring way, like how your mom would discipline you when you were little and hurt yourself whilst doing something stupid.

"Oops." You said as you saw the blood suddenly leak through your top, a grey t-shirt that was enormous on you and the white boxer shorts that you had on which someone had tied so that they'd stay on you.

"Wait here." He said as he set you on the bed and rushed out.

"Wait, who are you?" You asked as he rounded the corner.

"Bobby Singer." He replied with a tip of his cap and you giggled at that. You wondered if it was bad of you to relax so much in a stranger's house. But, you were alive, so that was something. You nodded at him and he disappeared to get a medical kit. "Wait, don't relax you idiot, get your ass out of here." You ordered yourself aloud and looked around you for anything that could be used a sa crutch. There was nothing hepful.

Instead of Bobby coming back, Sam came, to your surprise. You hadn't really thought you'd see them again. It had never really occurred to you that you would. It also hadn't occurred to you that they'd of taken you and you realised that it should of because you were with them.

"Uh, I came to redo your stitches." He smiled shyly at you and you raised an eyebrow at him. He looked ashamed almost.

"Uh ok." You said and lifted your shirt up a bit to expose your cuts. It looked bad. He came and sterilised a needle with vodka and it suddenly clicked for you. "Oh hell no, you are not doing that whilst I am conscious." You backed away from him warily. You clutched a pillow and brought it in front of you as a shield or weapon if needed.

"Drink." He offered you the vodka. You glared at him and he smirked at the pillow, making you feel a tad ashamed. Of course a pillow wouldn't work against a fully-grown male.

"Ok that's movie shit right there, I am no alcohol lightweight It would take longer than that to like buzz me and I'm like pretty sure I'd feel the pain anyways." You frowned and he rolled his eyes at you again.