Okay, I'm kinda combining a few different reviews for this one. Hope you enjoy it.
Imagine yourself walking down the street in your town, just ambling peacefully, when you find ourself in front of a small motel. Parked in front is a black 1967 Chevy Impala. You pause for a moment, not sure if it's the same one you're thinking of. An incredibly tall man with surprisingly long brown hair steps out of room number 16. You immediately recognize him as Sam Winchester. He walks toward the Impala and gets in, driving away. Taking the opportunity, you run to the nearest diner and buy a fresh apple pie. You run back to the motel and, out of breath, knock on number 16's door.
A man with impossibly green eyes, eyes that have been described by many as 'fan fiction green', opens the door. For a second you just stare. Then, after coming to your senses, you smile and introduce yourself.
"Can I help you with something?" He asks gruffly. You nod and hold out the bag with the pie in it.
"I brought pie." You inform him, smiling. "Apple, to be exact. I know it's your favorite." You add to be clear. He gives you a strange look then opens the door to let you in. You walk in with wide eyes, noting the bags on the beds, Sam's laptop on the table, their dad's journal open beside it. The demon knife is sitting on one of the beds, looking like it's about to be cleaned.
"You know, you shouldn't leave your demon knife just laying out like that." You comment as you set down the pie. Immediately you see the flaw in your statement as Dean grabs the knife and pins you to the wall, the knife against your throat.
"How do you know about the knife?" Dean growls, pressing the knife slightly harder. You swallow thickly.
"I-I read about it. In the books, Supernatural by Carver Edlund." You squeak. Dean loosens his grip slightly, but keeps the knife pressed to your throat.
"How do I know you're not a demon?" Dean asks, suspicion clear in his voice.
"Holy water! You could douse me in holy water!" You suggest, eager to get the knife away from your throat. Dean backs off and goes to one of the duffles. You step away from the wall and rub your neck. Your face is suddenly wet as Dean throws holy water at you. You blink away the water in your eyes and attempt to dry your face. Dean grabs one of your hands and makes a shallow cut with a silver knife. You hiss at the unexpected pain but Dean seems satisfied.
"If you're done assaulting me, would you like some pie?" You ask with a bitch-face. Dean gives you a strange look, as if he doesn't know how to handle your sass, but accepts the offer. You take the pie out and grab a knife and a plate from the kitchenette. You hand Dean his piece and he picks up a fork and starts digging in.
"So, whats with the pie?" He asks around a bite. You grimace a bit as you sit down across from him.
"It's a thank you for everything you and your brother have done." You tell him with a shrug. He stops chewing and looks at you with a weird look on his face.
"Why?" He asks you. You shrug.
"Why not? You guys have done so much for us, and we don't even realize it. You stopped the Apocalypse, something that had been centuries in the making, just because you thought it was wrong." You pause and contemplate if you should tell him the next part. Figuring it couldn't hurt, you go ahead. "You may not realize it, but what you did was appreciated by a lot of people. They may not be able to share that openly, but they do think it." You say cryptically. Dean keeps giving you strange looks as he eats the rest of his pie. You smile at him and stand up.
"I should be going, my family is expecting me." You say. Dean doesn't try to stop you as you exit the motel room. You stand outside the door for a second as Sam gets out of the Impala. You smile at him and nod, and he gives you a suspicious look. You walk home, a smile on your face. The smile disappears when you open your front door and see your family lying on the ground with their eyes burnt out. The door slams behind you and you spin, coming face to face with members of Uriel's army.
"Brother, you do not have to do this." You plead, arms held in front of you as you back away.
"I am truly sorry, but I have my orders. You must be taken back to Heaven." Your brother tells you as he walks forward, his blade held before him. You try to fly away, but they angel-proofed the house, so instead you turn and run. You don't make it far before you feel the white-hot sensation of an angel blade piercing your heart. You fall forward and know that your wings have burnt themselves into the ground.
I NEED MORE PROMPTS! This time it's Doctor Who, but if you don't send me prompts, I still have a story written out for it, though it is a last-ditch effort. Remember it goes fandom, prompt (one word), character. Please try to keep it within these parameters when you submit your prompt!