Imagine #89

                                    

                                          
     Imagine: You went to high school with Dean Winchester, working a case together. You even rode with him and his family for a while, not having anywhere else to go. You finally decided it was time to give up the life, because you wanted to eventually start a family of your own. One night when you're asleep, you hear strange noises in your house. 
                          
   ***
                          
     I rolled over in my bed, taking a deep breath. I realized that I was becoming restless, and I was waking up. I groaned quietly, looking at my clock. It was 3:00 AM. I sighed, rubbing my eyes. 
                          
     Suddenly, downstairs, there were footsteps, and clattering noises in the kitchen. I furrowed my eyebrows, sitting up carefully. I listened to the noises, realizing it wasn't just in my head. Someone had broken into my house. I stood up, grabbing the baseball bat next to the dresser as I headed for the door. 
                          
     I held my baseball bat over my shoulder, listening to the person in my house as I made my way down the stairs quietly. I looked over the railing into the darkness, seeing the shadow of a big man in the living room. I licked my lips, reaching the landing and going toward him, gripping the baseball bat. 
                          
     I swung at him, grunting when he turned quickly, catching it in his hold. I punched him, grabbing him by the neck and yanking him down. He pulled me down with him, still holding onto the baseball bat. I landed on top of him, and he rolled over, switching. I was on the floor now, arm extended out as he held it down, looking at me. The moonlight shined in from the front window, exposing his identity. I breathed out, looking up at the familiar man on top of me breathlessly. 
                          
     "Woah, take it easy, tiger," he chuckled, smirking. 
                          
     "Dean?" I asked, taking deep breaths. 
                          
     "Hey," he greeted. 
                          
     "What are you doing here?" I questioned, annoyed. "How the hell did you get in my house?"
                          
     "Uh...picked the lock," Dean admitted. 
                          
     I huffed, trying to pull my arms up to sit up, but he continued to hold me down. I looked up at him curiously. 
                          
     "You gonna hit me again?" he asked. 
                          
     "I can't promise anything," I told him. 
                          
     He backed off, getting up and releasing me. He reached down, grabbing my hand and pulling me up. I left the baseball bat on the floor as I went over, turning the lamp on. 
                          
     "You couldn't call?" I said as a new light shined in the room. 
                          
     "This is important," Dean told me. "If I called, you wouldn't listen."
                          
     "What's so important that you had to break into my house?" I scoffed, crossing my arms. "I could've killed you with that bat."
                          
     "I'm serious, Y/N," Dean said.
                          
     "So am I," I returned. 
                          
     "Will you just shut up and listen for a minute?" he barked back. 
                          
     I sighed, sitting on the back of my couch. I crossed my legs as they extended out toward the floor. 
                          
     "Ok, I'm listening," I said. 
                          
     "I need your help," Dean told me, and I raised my eyebrows. "...My dad's on a hunting trip. And he hasn't been back for a few days. We need to find him."
                          
     "So ask Sam to help you," I said. 
                          
     "...I can't," he muttered, turning away. "Sam's at school."
                          
     "School?" I repeated. "Like, college?"
                          
     "Stanford," Dean said, looking at me. "Has been for a couple years now. I can't bother him with this."
                          
     "..Wow," I said, taking it all in. "Well...Dean, I don't know. I mean, I've been out of the game for a while. I'm rusty. What about Bobby, or -- "
                          
     "There's no one else but you," Dean said, and he sighed as he stepped in front of me. "Look, I can't do this alone."
                          
     "Yeah, you can," I argued, looking up at him. 
                          
     "Well...I don't want to," he said. "Come on, Y/N. Just you and me, like old times."
                          
     "I-I don't know," I said again, standing up. 
                          
     "Why not?" he wondered. 
                          
     "I have a job," I told him. "I have a life. I got out once, and that was difficult because of your dad. What am I gonna say when we find him? 'Yay, glad you're ok! Gotta go!' ?"
                          
     "Just one more job," Dean said, arms open as he stepped toward me again. "Please, Y/N. I'm begging you, here."
                          
     I gave it some thought, thinking one more job wouldn't be so bad. It was different. This was Dean's dad that was missing. I took a breath, looking up at him. 
                          
     I walked out to the Impala, dressed and packed, and Dean was digging into the arsenal in the trunk. He looked at me, and I took my bag off my shoulder. He took it from me.
                          
     "You ready for this?" he asked. 
                          
     I looked down, seeing my old gun in his hand. I took it hesitantly, dropping the mag into my hand. It was already full. 
                          
     "Yeah," I said, my gun clicking as I shoved the magazine back in. "Just don't make me regret this."
                          
     "Love you, too," he joked.
                          
     "Come on," I said, and we walked toward our doors. "Let's go find your dad."