Supernatural Sister Imagines

Imagine #1: Back From Hell

Disclaimer: I don't own the supernatural characters and blah blah blah all rights to Kripke blah blah blah here we go.

Imagine: Dean is killed by hellhounds and goes to hell, but is brought back to life three months later.

Age: 15

You hadn't eaten much the few months after Dean died. Small, half-hearted bites of each meal that passed beneath your nose. Your stomach was sunken in and your skin was cold as ice, whiter than snow. You didn't speak much and when you did, your voice held with it every air of subdued despair and unadulterated defeat. Your eyes constantly felt heavy, your body weak, and other than leaving to go on the occasional hunt, rarely did you go anywhere but Dean's bedroom in the bunker, crying silently into his pillow, clinging to the scent of him that drifted further from your mind with each passing day.

You were utterly and whole-heartedly broken.

Sam took his brother's death better than you did, to say the least, but you suspected that much of his encouragement for you to eat and his overprotectiveness of your wellbeing was simply a disguise so that he may run from the grief he truly felt. He tried his best to cheer you up, cooking you meals and holding your limp, numb body in his arms in the wee hours of the morning. All he wanted was to bring back that happy, kind, airy little girl he loved with all his heart, but it was like the life had been sucked from your insides, your soul expunged from its frame. You heard nothing, said nothing.

You felt nothing.

But one faithful day, everything changed.

You were in Dean's bedroom, looking through his photos of you and Sam and his mother, whom you'd never met. Technically she wasn't your mother, you'd been found as an infant on the streets and were taken in by John Winchester, but you still thought of the boys as nothing less of a family. They were more protective of you than anyone could be of someone they loved, and if a boy so much as breathed the same air as you, the boys stood over your shoulders like hawks. Sometimes it got annoying, but you weren't much into boys so you didn't mind. In fact, you thought it was adorably charming.

     The photos were a process you went through almost daily, your eyes lingering on the smiling image of your eldest brother with suppressed joy, a smile of its own barely lighting your lips as you looked at him, only to fall when you remembered that he was gone.

"Y/n? Do you mind coming out here a minute, babe? I have a surprise for you!" You heard Sam's voice reverberate through the bunker walls and contemplated whether or not to ignore him and pretend you were asleep. Eventually you gave a heavy sigh, replacing the photos oh-so-delicately on the nightstand, like they were made of sand, and forcing your heavy limbs to carry your heavy, yet thin body weight down the hall.

"Yes, Sam-?" You trailed off, a gasp left unheard on the edge of your lips as you froze, mouth hung open in shock as you stared at the image before you.

Sam stood expectantly in the middle of the room, beside a man you never thought you'd see again. A smile was ever-present on Sam's face as he watched you, your eyes taking in every trace of the man by his side.

His brown hair was styled into the normal forward spike that you used to run your fingers through all the time. His candy-apple green eyes were filled with love and tears as he gazed at you, and through it all his white-toothed smile shone brightly between his lips.

"Hey, sweetheart." Dean said, a stray tear spilling over his eyelid and drifting lonesomely down his cheek.

You were silent, holding back tears of your own as he cocked his head to the side just a bit. He began to take a step toward you and your mind sped up.

Before you could blink you had lunged at him, knife from the back of your belt drawn.

"Who are you?!" You shrieked, pouncing toward the man as he jumped back with a startled look. Sam immediately sprang to action and grabbed you up, holding you back by the waist as you struggled to reach that stupid Not-Dean staring you down with a hurt look.

"Y/n! Stop! I've been through the tests, it's really him!" You began to stop struggling when you realized Sam was serious, and he let go of you, stepping back.

"--Dean?" Your voice was so broken, so small, and every crackle, every squeak in it sent Dean further into tears. Despite the rolls of liquids drifting down both cheeks, he smiled.

"I know," he gave a light, breathy chuckle, one that basically held every single emotion of longing and grief he felt for his baby girl in its tone. "I look fantastic, huh?"

Your hands, held out in front of you with the knife still at ready, slowly relaxed, the knife falling from your grasp as one hand came up over your mouth, hiding your teeth as you cried .

Before Dean could do anything you had launched yourself toward him, careening into his open arms with a loud sob. He held you in the air, your legs dangling down like a puppet as you squeezed him as tightly as you could.

Your arms were around his neck before you even realized what you were doing as you cried, blubbering and whimpering like a baby, your face buried in the crook of his neck. You mentally slapped yourself over and over, waiting for the moment when you would wake up and he would never have been there, but each time you peeked open your eyes, his scent was still in your nose, his rumbling breath still echoing in his chest, his arms still around you.

He too, was crying, though not as harshly, as his arms tightened about your frame, his nose buried in your shoulder as he kissed the surface of your shirt repeatedly.

"Shh, shh," he tried to quiet you, but the wavering of his voice gave away his own tears.

"Dean, you were gone, you left me, I thought you were gone," you whimpered, which only made Dean cry harder.

"I'm so sorry, baby girl, I'm so sorry." Dean replied as he kissed the side of your head, pressing his cheek to your skull and closing his eyes.

You let go of him a moment later and gave a long sniff. He smiled, taking your puffy face in his hands and wiping away your tears with gentle thumbs.

He let go of you and you grabbed at the back of his neck, yanking him forward and placing a long, pained kiss on his cheek, his eyes momentarily shutting as he relished in the feel of your lips on his skin.

     Pulling away, you reached up with both hands and ran your hands along the top of his head, up and down the back of it, all over his hair, feeling the soft locks and smiling, as did he.

You let go of him a second time and promptly slapped him in the face.

"Ow, what the hell, Y/n?" He rubbed at his cheek and looked at you with a shocked expression.

"That's for breaking my heart." You said plainly, crossing your arms. Dean could only smile as he grabbed you up once again, spinning you around repeatedly before placing you back on the ground, his arms still around you.

Opening your eyes, you saw through your hug Sam, standing behind you and Dean with a teary-eyed smile across his face. You smiled back and reached out a hand. He stepped forward and took it, and you pulled him toward you.

Dean shifted to make room for Sam and soon you were squished between them, chest and chest on either side of you as they crushed you in a duel hug.

"It's good to be home, guys." Dean said, his head dipping as his nose found its way to the top of your head. Sam, too, lowered his head, and his lips pressed to your scalp.

"It's good to have you back, Dean."