My Fault

**Requested Imagine**

I was wondering if you’d be able to do an imagine where Sam, Dean, and the reader were hunting something and the reader attacks it, but it gets away and corners Sam, and the reader can’t do anything but wait for Dean, so Sam is severely injured and the reader blames themselves while Sam sits in a coma for two months and the reader only hunts whatever hurt Sam until Dean calls and says Sam is awake and Sam refuses to speak to anyone but the reader, wanting to tell them he loves them, but Sam might not last long enough without Cas, who is MIA.


“When was the last time you slept or took a shower?”

You were staring at the clock above Sam’s hospital bed, following the secondhand with your eyes, when Dean showed up in the doorway. He walked in, bearing two styrofoam cups, and held one out to you. The scent of cheap coffee pulled you from your daze and you looked over, taking the cup from him.


“No problem.” He sat down in the chair on the other side of Sam’s bed and leaned back, propping one leg up over the other. He pulled the tab back on his coffee and took a sip, watching you as you only stared down at the white top of yours. “Y/n?”

“Hmm?” you asked, looking up at him. He frowned at the deep circles under your eyes.

“I asked when the last time you slept or took a shower was.” You shrugged and pulled the tab back on yours, taking a small sip.

“Not sure.” You took another small sip. “Why? Do I smell bad?”

“I didn’t say that–”

“I want to be here when he wakes up,” you explained, looking down at Sam. He looked peaceful despite his pale skin and oxygen tube. 

Dean stood up as you reached over to brush his hair back and walked over to you. He took your coffee from your hand before you could protest and set it down on the table. “Hey–”

“Go to the motel,” he said, pulling you to your feet, “take a shower. Get some sleep. I’ll call you if Sammy starts to wake up, okay?”

“No, I want to be here when he does.”

“You will be.” He handed you the keys to the Impala. “He’s been out for two months, Y/n. He’s not going to wake up in the next three hours.” He turned you towards the door and prodded you forward. “Trust me.”

“Fine,” you grumbled, walking to the hallway and glancing back at him. “But if he wakes up before I get back, it will be your head.”

He raised his cup of coffee in acknowledgment and smirked as he brought it to his lips. You rolled your eyes, turned and stalked out of the hospital, but with no intentions to return to the motel. Dean had been right, Sam wasn’t going to wake up any time soon. You were going to take some time off and hunt down the monster that did this to him while he recovered.


It didn’t take long for your phone to start blowing up. Dean called every few minutes at first, then every few hours, then every few days for two months. You never answered, of course. You were too busy.

‘Where the hell are you?’ said one of his texts. Another read, ‘Y/n answer me. You’re gone, Cas is gone. Pick up the damn phone.’

Not a single one of his texts suggested that Sam was awake except one, which you didn’t see right away since you were currently being tossed across the room by a demon. The same demon that had put Sam into a coma. You’d tracked it back to Milwaukee and succeeded in trapping it until the floor cracked underneath their feet and broke through the spray painted symbol.

“Did you really think that you could me?” it had said, throwing its hand out and sending you flying back into the wall. “How’s Sam Winchester doing these days?”

“I’m gonna kill you, bitch,” you spat, trying to move away from the wall but their mojo was too strong. She smirked.

“That’s what you said three months ago when I killed Sam.”

“He’s not dead.”


She curled her hand into a fist and your breath left you. You were frightened of course, since you were alone and had no one to stop the demon before it killed you, but you showed no signs. You stared her in the eyes as your throat grew tighter and tighter. Your vision began to blur after some seconds but you blinked hard and refocused on her.

“Acting tough?” she said and your eyes, beginning to bug out, finally fluttered closed. You tried to reach for her hand but you couldn’t move. You could hear your heart pounding in your ears as you dug your nails into the wall until, suddenly, you hit the floor.

You sucked in a breath and threw your hand to your throat, looking up just in time to see the demon’s vessel drop down in front of you. Where their eyes used to be were now black, gaping holes. In your line of vision now were a pair of legs, clad in dress pants, and a tan trench coat.

Cas crouched down, offered you his hand, and asked, “Are you all right?”

“Where have you been?” you demanded, taking his hand and letting him pull you to your feet. “Sam is in the hospital.”


“University Health in Shrevepor–”

Before you could finish, Cas took hold of your arm and zapped you both to the hospital you’d mentioned. It was mid-afternoon and plenty of people were mulling about, but most seemed to be in too much of a hurry to notice the angel and girl who appeared out of nowhere. You started towards the entrance and were almost surprised to see Dean charging straight at you.

“Where the hell have you been?” were his first words as he pulled you into his arms. The gesture caught you completely off guard, considering the tone of his voice, and you didn’t hug him back. He held your shoulders and said, “I’ve been trying to call you. Sam’s awake.”

“He is?” you answered, astonished.

“Yeah.” He let out a breath and turned to Cas. “And where have you been?”


“C'mon, story time later,” he said hurriedly, even though he’d been the one asking questions, “the two of you need to get to Sam.”

“Is he okay?” you asked as you struggled to keep up with him in the hallway. “He’s awake, isn’t he?”

“Yeah,” he affirmed, pressing the up button on the elevator, “but he’s not a hundred percent. He’s…He’s, uh…”

He trailed off but you understood. The ride to the third floor seemed to take hours but soon you and Dean were power walking to Sam’s room. Cas had disappeared halfway up, presumably to get there faster. When you finally walked in, the angel stood by his bed with a hand on his forehead, concentrating on his sleeping face with a slight frown.

“He won’t talk to anyone,” Dean said as you both made your way over. You looked up at him.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, he hasn’t said a word to anyone except me…and that was only to tell me that he wants to talk to you.”

“When was this?”

“Few days ago. I tried calling but you wouldn’t answer your damn phone.”

“I’m sorry, I was–”


Your eyes snapped over to Sam. Cas’s hand was off of his forehead now and he was facing you, his eyes half open. You hurried over to his bedside and looked down at him concernedly.


His eyes wandered over your face, taking in the dirt and blood. They rested on your busted lip and he asked, “What happened to you?”

“Nothing,” you lied. He was unconvinced. You smiled a little. “Nothing a little ice won’t fix.”

“You weren’t here when I woke up,” he said and your smile faded.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“Where were you?”

You glanced over at Dean who was staring at you, also still wanting to know the answer to that question. You knew they were going to be disappointed by your recklessness so you didn’t answer. Not that you had to, because Cas filled them in for you.

“She was hunting the demon that injured Sam.” Your cheeks began to burn beneath the intensity of both their stares, which you were avoiding.

“Did you find it?” Dean asked and you sheepishly answered, “Yes.”

“Y/n…” Sam said softly and you looked over at him. He glanced at Dean and Cas in turn. “Guys, can we have a moment?”

“Sure,” Dean said and beckoned for Cas to follow him into the hallway. He shut the door behind them and walked to get coffee.

“What were you thinking?” Sam asked once it was just you two. You shrugged. “Why did you go after a demon alone?”

“Because it was my fault that you got attacked by it in the first place,” you explained. “I had to take it out.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Y/n.”

“Sam. I missed when I swung at it,” you said, shaking your head. “You lost your blade when it went after you and I couldn’t get close enough to try again. It kept throwing me back.”

“It’s okay–”

“No, it’s not,” you cut in. “You were in a coma for two months because I couldn’t do my job. I had to wait for Dean to do it for me because I could barely move. And by then the demon was gone and so were you.”

Sam was quiet for a few seconds before saying, “I don’t blame you, Y/n.”

“I do,” you grumbled. You looked over at him. “Why wouldn’t you talk to anyone after you woke up?”

“Because I was saving my breath.”

“Why?” you asked. “For what?”

Sam sat up in his bed and took your hand, pulling you closer. You resisted at first, still feeling ashamed. But with one good yank, you were sitting on the side of his bed and he was smiling at you.

“You didn’t do this to me,” he nailed into your brain. You managed to give him a small half-smile. “I didn’t know if I was going to make it out of the hospital for a while there. And Dean…he said that you were gone and that he didn’t know where you were. He said that you weren’t answering your phone.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Y/n.” He put a hand to the side of your face. “When I was in a coma, I was dreaming about me and you.”

“Really?” you asked softly and he nodded.

“Yeah. We were in the bunker. I don’t know where Dean was. Bar, maybe. But we were together and…and I really needed to save my breath so that I could say 'I love you’ to the real you.”

“What?” you whispered. “But…what? How can you…? Coma Y/n could be completely different from…this Y/n.”

Sam laughed and, right before kissing you, said, “You’re both exactly the same.”

“So,” you said after he’d pulled back, but kept his lips inches from your own, “I almost get you killed and you tell me you love me…”

“Do you want me to yell at you?” he asked and you smiled. “Or kiss you again?”

You pretended to think about it, still wearing the same smile, and said, “Kiss me again.”