Supernatural Sister Imagines

Imagine #93: It Should Be You (Pt. 1)

This imagine is dedicated to marvel_fanatic13

Imagine: Charlie is killed due to the business with the Mark of Cain and all.

Age: 18

Warnings: Homosexuality, angst angst ANGST, maybe some language, and bloody gross stuff

Also part 2 soon muahahaha

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     "Burn the book, dammit! If we can't have it, no one can!" Dean yelled wildly before tossing the Book of the Damned in my direction, barely able to stop and aim before he was swarmed by more of the Stine family.

     How was I supposed to be expected to listen to him? How was I supposed to be expected to throw away the one thing that might help us get the Mark off of him? How was I supposed to be expected to obey, when I knew that if I did, my brother would never be the same? My brother would become something he wasn't?

     Of course I didn't burn that book. Although I'd personally like to apologize to the copy of Hamlet that took its place.That stupid book was tucked deep inside my jacket while the Stine family grieved its supposed death and my family escaped. My hands were crisscrossed with burn marks and my arms dotted with bruises, but we made it out.

     I could save him.

                                    _*_

     "Thank you for helping me, Charlie," I said softly, placing my hand over hers as she stared at the writing in the book, jotting down notes with her free hand.

     She glanced up at me with that award-winning smile. "Of course. Dean is family, I'd do anything for him."

     I chuckled. "Just don't let him hear you say that. His head's big enough as it is."

     She smiled, closing the book and her laptop, packing them up in a bag. "I've got all the notes I think I can get from the book, and I think it's best I left the book with you while I try and piece these scribbles together."

     "If that's what you want," I stood up as she closed her bag and positioned it on her shoulder, "it's safe here if you ever need to look into it again."

     She gave another smile, opening her arm with a small giggle. I stepped into it, hugging her softly while she kissed my head. "You know, if you were older I'd probably have a thing for you."

     I chuckled as I stepped away, shoving my hands in the pocket of my jeans and shifting on the balls of my feet. "Call me when I'm older, I suppose. I'll be here."

     She gave a light laugh and rolled her eyes. "I'll see you later, bitch number three."

     I wonder how different things might've been if I'd known that was the last time I'd see her smile. The last time I'd hear her laugh. The last time I'd feel her lips on my scalp. I wonder if I would've kissed her or told her that I loved her. I wonder if she would've told me she loved me, too. Well, I know she would, just not in that moment.