Supernatural Sister Imagines

Imagine #21: Lore

Imagine: You help the brothers find lore.

Age: 3

     "What're you doing?" You bubbled happily, waddling on your little legs into the living room of Bobby's house. Your big brothers looked up at you, but they didn't smile or kiss you like they normally did. Well, they smiled, but it was fake. You could tell. Uncle Bobby didn't even look at you. The three of them just kept reading the big books they each had in their hands.

     "We're looking for lore, baby girl." Sam said without looking at you. The littlest Winchester cocked your head to the side, your braided pigtails, done up by a surprisingly skilled hair-stylist Dean, flopping from your shoulders and hanging from your head. You wore a white T-shirt under a pair of overalls, and there was a ribbon that matched your eyes tied to one of your pigtails, the other fallen off.

     "What's, 'lore'?" You asked, sticking you tongue out as you said the word. Dean looked up at you, smiling at the adorable, intrigued look on your soft little face. Freckles dotted your nose and cheeks, freckles that would soon fade away as you grew, and your pale lips seemed to be permanently curved into a tiny smile.

     "It's when you find stuff about stuff." Sam said, pausing in flicking through his book to glance at his baby sister. He and the other boys were trying desperately to find a weapon or a spell that would stop the Apocalypse that loomed over them, but so far they'd found nothing in any book, but they still had hope that Castiel would return with a solution. Sam felt bad, as they hadn't really been paying much attention to Winchester #3 lately, but you didn't seem to mind. You always found a way to entertain yourself. Sam was proud of how down-to-Earth you were for a three year old, and how you could tell there was something important going down without having been told, but knew better than to bug him or his brother about it.

     "I want to find lore!" You said, dropping the ball you held and clapping your hands excitedly. You bumbled over to Sam and pushed his arms up out of your way, crawling into his lap while he and Dean chuckled at you. Normally they'd deny you access to the room, tell you to go play while the adults worked, and you go without question, but that day, the boys and Bobby were all longing for a little bit of a release, and a bit of 'Baby-You' love was exactly what they needed. Bobby opened a cabinet and pulled some little children's books about animals and stuff out of it, handing the stack to Dean.

     "Here," Dean, said, handing one of the books to you and pinching your cheek gently, "find some lore in that, huh?" You smiled happily and opened the book, pretending you were a detective on a case as you began to read it to yourself dramatically, a different reaction lighting your face every time you turned another page.

     Despite all the hell that was going down, despite the fact that Sam and Dean believed they were going to die soon, despite the Apocalypse that lurked in the shadows around them, you made Sam and Dean smile, and laugh, and reminded them what it meant to be happy, all because you wanted to be like your big brothers and find lore.

     You sat for less than twenty minutes, curled in Sam's lap reading, before you fell asleep, your book falling from your grasp and your head dropping onto Sam's chest. Sam chuckled.

     "Dean," Sam said softly. Dean looked up, noticing his sleepy sister, and gave a sweet, loving smile, "she fell asleep."

     "Do you want me to lay her down?" Dean asked, closing his book. Sam nodded and moved his arms, allowing Dean to scoop up his sister gently. You squirmed in annoyance, whining at your sleep being disturbed, and Dean shushed you softly, your head sinking onto his shoulder, your legs wrapped loosely around his waist.

     Dean took you upstairs, laying you in the bedroom gently. You sighed as he pulled the covers up over you, brushing a lock of hair that had broken from your pigtails out of your face. He knelt beside the bed and kissed your forehead.

     "Sleep tight, Princess." He whispered with a sweet smile before standing and walking toward the door, turning off the light and disappearing into the hall.