Small Coincidences

Imagine the two most memorable times you had seen Sam Winchester being: The exact moment he had received the text from John saying that he had to leave school early and would be blowing town that night, exactly two minutes and forty-six seconds after he had asked and you had agreed to be his girlfriend, and;
The first day at Stanford when you both stood at the sign-up desk for the debating squad. 

@classicteenagenothing

Small Coincidences

Imagine the two most memorable times you had seen Sam Winchester being: The exact moment he had received the text from John saying that he had to leave school early and would be blowing town that night, exactly two minutes and forty-six seconds after he had asked and you had agreed to be his girlfriend, and;
The first day at Stanford when you both stood at the sign-up desk for the debating squad. 

@classicteenagenothing

Small Coincidences

Imagine the two most memorable times you had seen Sam Winchester being: The exact moment he had received the text from John saying that he had to leave school early and would be blowing town that night, exactly two minutes and forty-six seconds after he had asked and you had agreed to be his girlfriend, and;
The first day at Stanford when you both stood at the sign-up desk for the debating squad. 

@classicteenagenothing

Small Coincidences

Imagine the two most memorable times you had seen Sam Winchester being: The exact moment he had received the text from John saying that he had to leave school early and would be blowing town that night, exactly two minutes and forty-six seconds after he had asked and you had agreed to be his girlfriend, and;
The first day at Stanford when you both stood at the sign-up desk for the debating squad. 

@classicteenagenothing

Small Coincidences

Imagine the two most memorable times you had seen Sam Winchester being: The exact moment he had received the text from John saying that he had to leave school early and would be blowing town that night, exactly two minutes and forty-six seconds after he had asked and you had agreed to be his girlfriend, and;
The first day at Stanford when you both stood at the sign-up desk for the debating squad. 

@classicteenagenothing

Small Coincidences

Imagine the two most memorable times you had seen Sam Winchester being: The exact moment he had received the text from John saying that he had to leave school early and would be blowing town that night, exactly two minutes and forty-six seconds after he had asked and you had agreed to be his girlfriend, and;
The first day at Stanford when you both stood at the sign-up desk for the debating squad. 

@classicteenagenothing

Not so easy

Request from anon:Hi! May I request a Sam Winchester imagine, please? Maybe like the boys & the reader are hunting a shifter & it shifts into her, Sam kills it, and another one looking like her tells him he just killed y/n. He has a complete mental breakdown, but the real y/n arrives and explains what happened. Sam is relieved, but refuses to let her out of his sight and even asks her to keep her bedroom door open so he can know she’s ok, so she invites him to sleep beside her? Something like that & super fluffy!

Storytime:
“No Sam please don’t! It’s me Sam!” Your voice begged desperately as the man you loved stalked forward, his face set in a determined scowl.
“Plead all you like, you shape shifter bitch!” Sam spat avoiding attachment to your face streaming with tears; he brought his gun up slowly, loaded with silver bullets.
“No!” Your lips mouthed at the same moment the deafening gun shot rang out through the dark air, less than a second later your body was thrown back with the impact through your chest.

Sam stood with his breath ragged for several minutes before hearing a familiar but twisted sound. Your laughter filled the room in a way it had never done before, it was unnatural and it sent chills up Sam’s spine; his eyes were fixed on your body that was still motionless on the cement floor.
“Over here hot-stuff.” Your voice sounded a few metres from the dead body. Sam’s head shot up and his eyes finally landed on a second set of your Y/E/C eyes; his jaw dropped, he had thought there had only been one shifter. The laugh turned cruel and boasting as your head started to shake.
“There were two of you?” He growled, standing to full height and squaring off his shoulders.
“No, you poor son of a bitch. Only me.” Your face split into a menacing grin and you moved a few steps closer. “You just shot the only one who ever truly cared. And she was so in love with you that she sat there waiting for you to realise instead of fighting for her life and possibly hurting you.” The shifter in your body highlighted as if explaining a math solution, slowly pacing closer. Sam tried to ignore their words, tried to tell himself it was all lies, but his shoulders started to droop and his eyes fell to the pale body.
“No. I can’t. I don’t believe you.” Sam husked out, and raised his gun in his shaking hands. Your face contorted in faux-concern and it made his stomach drop, it was like the final nail in the coffin. He dropped to his knees beside your dead form at the same moment his heart felt as if it were pulled out of his chest. Tears started to run down his face, falling from his nose to yours; he was vaguely aware of the twisted you circling slowly; he couldn’t find it in himself to care. You were gone, it was his doing, and you’d tried to tell him. His face contorted as that thought ran through his head, and he grant further over your body; the pain coursing through his system was more than he’d felt before. He wanted to scream apologies but his guilt stopped him.
“If I weren’t sure you’d find me, I’d leave you like this. Killing you is going to be an unfair escape.” The shifter smirked, standing in front of Sam again with his gun aimed at his head. His head rose to look into your eyes one last time, even though it was a shifter it would have to do, and cradled your limp shoulders while silently begging his adversary to pull the trigger. Suddenly there was a hand on your copy’s shoulder and their face slackened in shock before they collapsed in a heap metres from the surprised Winchester.

“Lying filth.” You spat on the corpse of yourself laying at your feet. Your eyes met Sam’s and your heart broke a little; thinking that the look plastered under his tears may haunt you for the rest of your life. It took him a few moments before his eyes traveled from you to the body he was still clutching. Suddenly he let go and pushed himself further from where you were standing.
“What? What the hell is going on?” He asked after a few moments, seeming to force his eyes to fix with yours. You smiled weakly. Questions meant that he was at least open to understanding.
“We were so in over our heads here Sammy… There were four of them. I’ve never known shape shifters to act like this.” You said softly, stepping over the corpse slowly. Your eyes were watchful, waiting for a reaction from the terrified looking man in from of you. You bent to pick up the gun the shifter had been holding, and when you looked up again Sam was standing and brandishing his knife.
“Four? Only two are dead here. You know you play her much better than the last one.” His voice was full of threat and your face paled in seconds.
“No Sammy. It’s me. I’m here. I just killed two of you.” Your words shook as much as your hands while you maneuvered one of the bullets out from the cartridge. Sam watched you like a hawk just waiting for the sizzle, but it never came and within seconds he had you in his arms; you were so relieved to feel his warmth that you almost didn’t push the bullet against his bare arm, almost.

Dean had been waiting anxiously at the door of the bunker when the two of you came limping in, feeling far more worse for ware than you had immediately post-fight for your lives. Dean insisted on hearing the whole story as he saw to your wounds, Sam hadn’t needed any medical attention but also had stayed in the room barely reacting to questions thrown at him by his brother. If you hadn’t been wincing, as Dean stitched you up, you may have noticed that Sam’s eyes never left you and that his jaw was set. After everything was explained and you were patched up you stood and screwed up your face; you stunk and all you wanted was a shower, which you now couldn’t do invade of infection.
“Well boys, I’m going to go and attempt a sponge bah.” You announced before stretching, groaning, and heading it the door.
“Oh thank god.” Dean whispered behind you.
“I’ll remember that after your next hunt Winchester!” You called from down the hall and chuckled when you heard Dean swear faintly. Once in the bathroom you gingerly peeled your clothing off while running some water into a bucket you had set aside just for this purpose.

You stood next to a stool in one of the shower cubicles and had just finished washing the blood and grime of your legs when you heard a knock.
“Come in!” You hollered, sitting down so all that could be seen from outside the shower would be your butt and back. You started to clean your arms and listened to the slow steps, you could tell it was same; too quiet to be Dean. You heard him stop just shy of the cubicle and patiently waited for him to speak. Minutes passed and you were just cleaning the back of your neck when he cleared his throat.
“I’m sorry I threatened you with the knife.” He mumbled and you almost laughed at the mental image you had of the giant behind you shuffling his feet and looking at the ground.
“I get it Sam… No need to be sorry. I would have done the same if the roles were reversed.” You shrugged and cringed at the thought Sam dead in your arms. You heard him step inside the shower behind you.
“Do you need help? With your back I mean?” He asked out of the blue, and you surged in relief; you were done with the heavy apparently, and you really did need some help.
“That would’ve wonderful.” You hummed and pulled the clumpy mass that was your hair out of the way. Sam was far more gentle than you had been expecting and it brought a glowing blush to your cheeks, suddenly the silence felt intimate. Both brothers had helped you through this before, as you had helped them, but something was different in Sam’s movements this time. It wasn’t like he thought you might break, but more like he thought you may disappear if he washed your skin too hard. All too soon he was squeezing your shoulder to let you know it was over.
“Hey uh… Not to push my luck or anything Sammy, but could you help me wash my hair?” You asked sheepishly, grabbing a lock of the mess for emphasis. You heard a crinkle behind you and turned with an arm across your chest, Sam was standing, holding out a yellow raincoat and smiling nervously.
“I came prepared. So we don’t fully soak your dressings…” He trailed off as you beamed, at the genius that was Sam Winchester, and he closed his eyes so you could put the coat on.

About thirty minutes and half a bottle of shampoo later, you were feeling far more human than you had in a long time even covered in stocked and dressings. You smiled happily at the warm feeling that had settled in your bones somewhere between Sam helping you with your back, laughing with him when you both realised too late that he had no protection from the water, and his gentle knock on your bedroom door after he had cleaned up himself. You answered the door in your favourite comfortable pyjamas and tried not to giggle when you saw that he was actually wearing real nightclothes and not his normal ‘prepared for anything’ clothes.
“What’s up Sammy?” You asked cheerfully, ready for bed but not sleepy; cozy. Sam ran a hand nervously through his hair and blushed slightly.
“I um… Well I was wondering… After today, I just really don’t want to let you out of my sight for very long. So I wanted to ask… If it was okay with you… Could you leave your door open, at least for tonight.” He stammered out and looked at his feet. You gasped, suddenly feeling similarly as images of your hand plunging your knife through Sam’s heart ran through your mind again. Your smile faded and your shoulders came in on you.
“I uh…” You choked out, wrapping your hands around yourself.
“Oh no, don’t worry, it’s okay, forget I asked.” Sam spoke quickly as if to take it all back, he had obviously taken your reaction to mean you were uncomfortable and he turned to leave. Your hand caught the long soft sleeve of his shirt before he even got a step away. You pulled him back to face you and quickly wound your arms around his waist, your head buried in his wide chest, holding him as close as you could and finally letting yourself feel how real he really was.
“No… I just… Oh Sam… I k-killed you. I almost didn’t get to you in time…” You sobbed, already forming quite a damp patch on his shirt, and his arms were suddenly holding you just as close as you were him.
“Shhh…” He cooed and started shuffling you back to your king-sized bed. You didn’t want to let go so you stepped on the tops of his feet gently, letting him guide you; he blushed and smiled into your hair. At the edge of your bed you climbed under your sheets and Sam took that as his cue to leave. He’d just switched off your light when you finally caught on and sat bolt upright. He was halfway out the door when he heard the flutter of sheets and turned to look at you.
“Can you please close the door… I don’t like sleeping with it open.” You asked quietly, and Sam frowned.
“Oh yeah sure thing…” Sam mumbled and went to leave yet again.
“I mean if it’s okay with you… I’d like you on this side of the door with me… I… Can you sleep in here tonight Sam?” Your voice grew quieter and quieter and you sat nervously patting the bed next to you. Sam sighed with relief as he came back passed the threshold, and smiled at the door as he closed it. In two short strides he was by your bed. He climbed in next to where you were still sitting and your heart thumped while he got comfortable. You slid back down to your pillow only to find his arm outstretched and in one swift moment he had your back pressed to his chest. You were thankful for those strong arms several times that night; they reminded you that he was there and not in your head where you stabbed him over and over until you watched yourself shoot him.

Small Coincidences

Imagine the two most memorable times you had seen Sam Winchester being: The exact moment he had received the text from John saying that he had to leave school early and would be blowing town that night, exactly two minutes and forty-six seconds after he had asked and you had agreed to be his girlfriend, and;
The first day at Stanford when you both stood at the sign-up desk for the debating squad. 

@classicteenagenothing