Supernatural Imagines & Preferences ^Completed^

Downward Spiral (Sam×Sister!Reader)

   TRIGGER WARNING !!! Mentions of depression and suicidal thoughts !!! Also this was a lot darker than anticipated and I'm very sorry okay ily - Emma

   You rubbed your hands across your face as you sat in bed for the third day in a row. You knew you were going to have to get up soon, to walk around and not just to do two second tasks (such as using the bathroom), but you didn't have the energy or motivation. Physically, you were well rested and you could tell your body wanted to move, but your brain was telling you not to. Not only did you not have the motivation to get out of bed, but you didn't have the motivation to ever get up again. You were simply done with feeling alone, even if you were with your brothers, and you were rarely with them anymore. Because of that, you didn't think there was much reason to live anymore anyway.

   Your brothers had basically caused the end of the world, so what harm would it do? What harm would killing yourself do to anyone? Dean and Sam were not going to be able to stop Amara, but they were working their asses off either way. Amara was planning on destroying the entire planet and all of inhabitants, something Dean and Sam were NOT going to be able to stop, yet they kept going. They were never home, always leaving you for days at a time and never calling to check up or check in. You knew they most likely wouldn't care, you were the annoying baby of the family anyway; however, you still felt reluctant. 

   The boys had been gone for 10 days. At this point, they could be dead. They could be sitting in a vacant parking lot decomposing because some being got to them. Or at least Sam would be. Dean, who still had the mark, would probably be running rampid and killing people for fun without anyone there to control him. That was another reason to kill yourself: to let Sam be able to help Dean with the mark without you getting in the way. You sighed, forcing yourself out of your thoughts. You sat up, running your hands through your hair, and climbed out of bed. 

   Your mind was screaming 'No! Get back in bed! No!' but you chose to ignore it. By the time you made it to the library, you knew that you were on the verge of a breakdown, but you held it in. You needed to eat. You didn't wanna go by starvation; that would be too lame. Even though you wanted to die, you wanted to go out with a bang. A hunter's death. You knew that a simple self-done headshot or hanging yourself wouldn't be enough, so you decided that the next hunt you went on would be your last. You decided that you would purposefully put yourself in harm's way, so the boys wouldn't be able to save you without a fight. 

   After debating with your own mind, you decided on a sandwich. You opened the fridge to see a loaf of bread (probably stale), an old tub of butter, a 2 week old slice of pie, and grape jelly. You ran to the cabinets above the stove and reached up to see if there was peanut butter. You found it, grabbed it off the shelf, and placed it on the counter next to the bread and jelly. You went into the drawer next to the sink to find a butter knife when you heard the door of the bunker open and shut. You stood there nervously as you tried to make as little noise as possible. You heard heavy footsteps, then saw Sam's head poke out from the door frame. He smiled at you, to which you smiled (fakely, of course) back. He wrapped his arms around you and you melted into his hug. Sam gave the best hugs; they always made you feel safe and comfortable, and that was one thing you were going to miss. He left, taking his duffle bag up to his room. You resumed making your sandwich.

   After you made your sandwich, you put everything back in its respectful place. You ate it on the counter, throwing half of it away because it made you feel sick to your stomach. That was another thing you hated about your bouts of depression; you wouldn't eat full meals for weeks. You were surprised you even still had to think about suicide when you barely ate anyways. Dean came into the kitchen, nodding his head at you before walking over to the fridge. When he noticed there was no more beer, he huffed, yelling at Sam that he was going on a supply run.

   "You need anything, (Y/N)," Dean said before walking out of the kitchen. You shook your head.

   "No," you squeaked. You hadn't spoken to anybody in days and your voice was very hoarse. Dean nodded walking over to give you a hug. He squeezed you tight, rocking you back and forth in his arms.

   "I missed ya, kiddo." He let go and walked to the library table, where Baby's keys were sitting. You felt tears start to form in your eyes and you rushed back to your room. Did he really miss you, (Y/N)? Come on, he just thinks you're a burden. You climbed back into bed, resuming the position that you had held three days straight. The ceiling was starting to get boring, but you didn't have anything else to look at. You had left your phone on your dresser and there was no way you had enough motivation to get it now. 

   "Hey, kid." You looked up to see Sam talking to you from your doorway. "Mind if I come in?" You sat up a little, scooching over and patting the spot next to you. He nodded, making his way towards the bed. Sam looked at your solemnly after he sat down, and you knew he was on to you. 

   "You, uh, you alright, Sammy," you asked as you avoided eye contact with him. He shook his head no, his jaw set and his eyes on you. 

   "The question is if you're alright, not if I am," Sam said as you felt the tears pouring down your face. You covered them to the best of your ability, hiding your face from your distraught older brother. You finally looked up at him, shaking your head no as well. He swallowed hard, pulling you in a tight hug. "Do you wanna talk about it?"

   "I feel so inadequate, Sammy. I feel so unimportant, insignificant. I-I haven't left my bed in days, except to eat and use the bathroom. I want to die, Sammy. I hate this feeling. I hate it. I hate it. I-I h-hate it." You cried hard into his shoulder and you could feel his tears hitting the top of your head, soaking into your hair. 

   "You're none of those things, (Y/N). You are so important and you have no idea how much we need you. I'm here, I'm here," he whispered into your ear as you soaked his shirt with tears and snot. 

   "Please don't leave me alone," you begged as you pulled away, trying to stop the tears to the best of your ability. Sam placed his hand on your chin, lifting it so you were making eye contact.

   "I would never dream of it."