~ Dean and Sam Struggle with Learning About Your Imaginary Friend ~

(Based on the S11 E8 episode called "Just My Imagination")

Warnings: Disturbed Past, Hints of Abuse, Really Close Sibling Relationship, Occasional Swearing

It's 2 am, your throat is dry and the last thing you want to deal with is the incessant banging noise from the library. Yet, like the endless pranks Dean and Sam play on you, it continues. You growl inwardly and run a hand through Y/C hair before removing yourself from the comfort of your warm bed. Your bare feet slap against the concrete as you angrily make your way past your brother's rooms and towards the kitchen. Your knife is still strapped securely to your lean thing and you touch it with a single finger to activate it with the 'almighty power' it was bestowed with. Sometimes dating one of God's children has its benefits.

The banging grows louder as you grow closer to the library. You take a turn before you step through the threshold to wet your throat, and as you enter the kitchen the banging in the library stops. You open the cabinet and grab a plastic cup, move languidly to the fridge and open it lazily. Cold air hits your bare thighs, reminding you that maybe next time you go after a noise it would be best to wear pants. The fridge shifts in front of your eyes, reality literally bends to form a fridge full of strawberry milkshakes covered in gummy bears.

Flashback:

"Daddy, please! There's a shop just down the road from the motel! I saw it on the drive back from Middletown Place!" You chirp from one of the grungy, stained beds in your room.

Sam and Dean were out grabbing supplies for the hunt tonight, meanwhile, you and your dad were just spending some much needed time together.

"I dunno princess...you were pretty rude to me last night when I asked for that favor" your father answered with a mix of a smile and a frown...not quite a smirk but disappointment was evident nonetheless.

"But Sam and Dean...they were right there! They could've heard!" Your 10-year-old voice rang throughout the room.

"Not my problem" the oldest Winchester shrugged, unbothered, and continued to stare at the files in front of him.

"But..." you attempted a reply.

"Next time when daddy asks to play touch and feel, you play along" he muttered and shut the files fiercely.

Your silence was deafening.

A glimmer of black pixie dust flowered around you and suddenly Tinsel was there. Tinsel, your imaginary friend, stood in front of you holding a strawberry milkshake with gummy bears on top...just like the one you were begging John for moments ago.

"Thanks but no thanks tinsel...I'm not hungry anymore" you whisper, only loud enough for your pixie friend to hear.

End Flashback:

Black glitter was dusted onto the shelves on the fridge, you saw it, registered it, and your heart stopped. The pixie, Tinsel, was the only living memory you had of your childhood that made you smile. The smell of gun smoke and Christmas spice lingered in the air as you turned on your heel, knife at the ready.

Tinsel stood before you, radiating black glitter and smelling of pine and Christmas, her knife strapped to her thigh like yours was moments ago. You smirked remembering how tough she was even if she was a pixie. You remembered creating someone that was as tough as your brother Dean but interested in lore and smart like Sam. Therefore Tinsel, the stabby pixie, was created.

The glass pitcher of ice cold water you held in your hand hit the ground with a resounding crash, scaring both Tinsel and you.

"Well, you haven't gotten any less clumsy since we last spoke" Tinsel smirked, her voice still holding that familiar sarcasm.

"Yeah," you scoffed, "no kidding."

You're brushing the glass that somehow got on your flimsy tank top when a thought hits you like a ton of bricks.

"Wait, why can I see you. How can I see you? What does this mean!?" You panic, your arms shake and your hands are riddled with tremors as well.

"Calm down Y/N, you can see me because I let you. You're not going crazy. Im zanna...look, I'm here for a reason. There's a lot to explain but I don't want to explain it more than once. Where are Sam and Dean?" Tinsel speaks clearly, calmly, just like she used to.

You listen and respond. You're not sure why but its the calm that Tinsel brings you just makes it easier to follow directions.

"DEAN, SAM" You scream.

Moments later there's swearing and groaning. Lights are turned on, weapons drawn, and footsteps can be heard through the concrete walls. Sam's room is ahead of Dean's so he's in the kitchen before the eldest Winchester.

"Y/N what! What is it, where's the fire!" Sam huffs.

Your eyes widen, you look at Tinsel to Sam multiple times.

"H-h-how d-do y-yo-o-u no-t-t s-s-ee her!" you stutter, making multiple vague and spastic gestures between the pixie and your brother.

Dean stumbles in, as frazzled as Sam, but also holding a gun.

"What is it!" Dean barks, in his usual military manner.

Another round of stuttering and vague, spastic gesturing starts up. Tinsel snickers and snaps her fingers once. Suddenly both boys gasp and there's a trickle of bell-like laughter from Tinsel.

"You two always were soft when it came to her" the pixie teased, what pixies do best of course.

"Y/N why is there an emo pixie taking up space in our kitchen!" Dean yells.

"Alright, I've had enough of the yelling. Let me explain our current predicament fellas. I'm a Zanna. Also known as Y/N's imaginary friend from so long ago when your father was still walking around harassing little girls."

You flinch. The boys didn't know about his actions.

Tinsel watches you but continues. "All imaginary friends are Zanna in fact, and for some reason, we imaginary friends are dying. My friend, Sparkles, dead in his child's home last night. The kid is traumatized, the mother is confused and the father has no words. To summarize, the family needs you." Tinsel finishes.

The boys are awestruck.

"I'll let you sort this out. Hopefully, I'll see you three later today at the house." Tinsel winks and she's gone in a flurry of glitter.

The three of you were left to stare at each other, dumbfounded at what had just unfolded in front of you all.

"That..was your imaginary friend. A fuckin pixie!" Dean growls.

"I uh..."

"Y/N what is going on here," Sam scoffs.

"I uh..."

"Say somethin' Y/N!" Dean barks.

"If you idgits would stop yellin' at me I'd be able to answer!" You snap.

The boys quiet and look at you, awaiting your response.

"She was all I had when you and Sam weren't around. She's just what my 7-year-old mind created and she stayed that way until I turned 11. I can't explain it." You continue.

"Y/N we..didn't know you needed us. You never told us." Sam spoke up, gentler than Dean.

"I know..I never told you all..look it's not important. We have a case to solve, my problems don't matter."

"Y/N.." Dean starts.

"Can we please just let it go?" You whisper.

The boys look at each other, look at you, and then heave deep sighs.

"Okay Y/N.. we'll head out to the house when it's light out," Dean mutters.

The boys leave the room and you're left alone in the kitchen with your thoughts.

Dean and Sam don't go to bed. They go to Dean's room and talk. Something is obviously wrong with their little sister and it's up to them, the big brothers, to figure it out. Dean is staring at his feet, Sam is staring at the wall. Neither of them has said a word to each other since they closed the bedroom door.

"I..."

"Um..."

The boys attempt conversation at the same time.

"When.."

"How.."

They both stare at each other, frowning.

"11? She stopped having a pixie best friend when she was 11?" Dean wonders aloud.

"I know its weird...what happened when she was 11?" Sam questioned.

"You went off to college..her and I stuck with Dad, fighting evil and whatnot" Dean responded.

"But she was 10 when you left...so why did the pixie leave a year later" Dean continued aloud.

"Dad went off the radar...didn't the pixie say something about him 'harassing little girls'?" Sam finished Dean's thought.

They stared at each other in realization.

"You don't think.." Dean started

"I wouldn't be surprised if.." Sam trailed off

"After a few drinks..you know how dad got" Sam finished

"He wasn't..drunk," you spoke up from the doorway.

The boys stare at you in surprise.

"He would always be stone cold sober. Anytime his hand was near me, there was clean sober blood running through it. I tried so hard to tell you...especially after he went off the radar. Except once he was gone I realized he might not be able to hurt me ever again. I didn't want to remember his actions...or his words. So I shoved it away and eventually took out all my anger on whatever scumbag monster came our way. Tinsel realized I was better and she disappeared. I don't know what I feel about John now..but I know that I'm happy he's dead." You speak clearly, calmly and confidently.

The boys are surprised at your words and your tone. With earth-shattering realization, it becomes evident to both boys that you endured more than just "harassment" from dear old dad. The scar on your upper arm burns with memories of John's perverted fantasies, but as long as the boys still think it's from that Banshee back in 06' then everything will be fine.

"When were you gonna tell us this Y/N?!" Dean barks, grip his bedpost.

"Never. I had hoped to take it to my grave. I didn't want to tarnish your vision of me. Untouched...pure." You sigh, crossing your arms over yourself as a means of providing yourself comfort.

"Y/N that's batshit and you know it. Nothing you could do or nothing that's been done to you will ever change how Sam and I see you. You're always gonna be our little sister." Dean says, relaxing and moving towards you.

Sam and Dean envelop you in a hug. You pause a second, still tense, before relaxing into the hug and enjoying your brother's presence.

"So..." Dean starts, interrupting the chick-flick moment, "A freakin pixie?!"