Title: The Reader's Special: First Edition
Author: Disasteriffic Kaz
Info: Post 4X02 AYTG?IMDW This is the Reader's Special. You Review and tell me what you want in the next chapter and I do my best to write it! So, expect lots of hurt/limp/angst/protective/comfort!Sam/Dean I'm sure.
Author's note: Delay on this chapter's posting? All FanFicNet's fault. XD Bloody site would NOT let me sign in to post, comment, etc. Been banging my head all day! Anyway!
Once again, you guys are making me hop through some awesome hoops for this Fic! I knew this would be crazy fun. Once this is finished…whenever that is, I'll list everyone who gave a prompt at the end of the last chapter with MAD thanks to all of you. Prize will be (cause you all deserve something) anyone on the list can request a one shot of anything they like. Yes, yes I am a writing masochist. Heh.
Ok, Reader Prompts in this chapter: A mine, ghostly miners, ghost or possessed clown, Stoic but sick/sore Sam embarrassed about losing control while drugged and some big bro caring moments. :D Got it.
recap! After a new chapter is posted, review and give me your prompts that you would like to see in the next chapter. I will do my best to work them in. Your ideas will drive this story.
RULES: No Wincest. I just don't do that. SO not my thing. No insult to those who do because I'm a firm believer in "to each his own" but I don't. That's it really. The only rule.
Do please Review once you've read. :D Every comment and vote of support helps keep me writing. Not to mention if I've pooched anything, someone can always tell me. :P
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He was woozy with exhaustion and twitchy with nerves. Every time he closed his eyes, rather than blissful darkness, he saw the Pit. The memories were assailing him worse than normal and testing even his legendary ability to internalize pain.
The images he saw, the faces…he looked again to the bottle of whiskey on the table and swallowed against how badly he wanted to empty it and find sleep. Sam needed him. As if sensing something, Sam suddenly reached out and grasped his arm.
"Dean." Sam said, voice husky with fever. "Dean, it's ok." Sam refused to let his brother pry his hand loose. He'd opened his eyes and seen the lost, hopeless look on Dean's face and his heart had fractured. That was his fault. Oh Dean had told him he didn't remember anything but Sam didn't believe it. He remembered something and that something was eating at him.
"Hey, you need to sleep, Sammy." Dean managed to get his arm free and tucked Sam's arm back under the blanket. "Don't worry about me. I'm fine." Sam shook his head but his eyes fell closed again anyway as Dean replaced the cold towel on his head.
Dean let his head fall forward as Sam's breathing evened out into sleep again and tried not to see the things, the horrors his brain insisted on thrusting at him. The things he had done…he didn't know if he'd ever sleep without help again and looked to the whiskey bottle longingly once more before resolutely turning away. Not today.
CHAPTER 4
Sam woke in a fog. His head felt too big, his arms and legs felt as though he'd been doing pushups for a month and his head was beating a tattoo behind his eyes. He groaned and then bolted up onto his elbows as memory came back. "Shit." He hissed and looked around, startled to find himself in a motel room. He closed his eyes, rubbing trembling fingers between his eyes and frowned as everything came back. Sam looked around and found Dean sprawled on his side on the bed next to him, arms and legs hanging off the edge and exhaustion showing clearly in his sleeping face.
A blush crept up Sam's neck, remembering how he'd behaved when Dean had saved him from the damn box. Needing to be saved in the first place was making him twitch. He crawled slowly, quietly from his bed and padded on bare feet to the bathroom, shutting the door and leaned against it, eyes closed. He hated himself a little for showing that much weakness in front of Dean. He'd spent four months hunting every damn thing he could find on his own and now; Dean's back and suddenly he's the helpless little brother again.
"Dammit." Sam growled and took a good look at himself in the mirror. He looked like crap. Dean looked worse. He'd made his big brother go two days without sleep because he couldn't take care of himself. "Gotta do better, Winchester." Sam told himself and turned the shower on. He hoped the noise wouldn't wake Dean but he needed to be clean. He was covered in mud, blood, bruises and the remnants of what had to have been a good fever. He groaned as the hot water hit his chest and turned to let it beat on his back for a while. He indulged himself, for just a moment, wishing Ruby was there to massage the ache out of his back and smiled sadly. There was one facet of his life without Dean that his brother was likely never going to understand.
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"Hey Jerry!" Brian shouted as he plodded up the dirt road beside Cabin Creek. "Don't forget the damn beer!"
"Aw come carry it your damn self!" Jerry called back with a laugh. He pulled the case out of the back of the dented, dirty pick-up, flicked on his flashlight and followed the road after Brian. "You could have waited for me, dumbass!" He wasn't as amused about sneaking up on Carnies as Brian was. The guy had a serious love for causing trouble and why they wanted to camp this far outside of town was beyond him.
"Ha!" Brian's voice floated back to him.
A moment later Jerry heard a splash and a string of cussing and laughed. "Serves ya right!" He trod through the darkness, following the beam of his light. "Brian? You need me to call yer mom and get ya a blankie?" He snickered, waiting for the insults to start and frowned when they didn't. "Dammit, Bri stop screwin' around." Jerry picked up his pace and jogged down the track to the river's edge. He shined his light up where he knew Brian had been and saw nothing. "Man, come on. It's too damn dark for this crap." He heard a rustle in the bushes to his left and hefted the case of beer. "If you jump out at me I'm beanin' your ass with this case." Jerry warned and turned his flashlight on the trees and scrub brush. "Bri?"
He felt a cold hand on his shoulder and turned. Jerry gave a startled cry and fell back at the ghostly figure standing behind him. "HOLY CRAP!" He fell to the ground, flashlight spinning away into the night as an ethereal hand dove into his chest and he screamed as he felt his heart being crushed.
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Dean opened his eyes, irritated awake by a constant tapping sound. He looked up and groaned seeing Sam sitting up at the table in their room, tapping away at his laptop. Dean rolled carefully to his side and sat up.
"You oughta be in bed, Sammy." Dean told him and got a snort in return.
"I'm fine, Dean." Sam smiled at him over the laptop. "You needed sleep though. You know you took a steering wheel to the chest right?" Sam glared at him. "You just gonna neglect to do anything about that?"
Dean snorted. "Dude it's a bruise."
"Across the whole of your chest. I looked." Sam sat back and smiled at the disgusted look on his brothers' face. "Painkillers on the nightstand. Take them."
Dean looked over and saw two pills next to a bottle of water. "Naw don't need 'em." He stood and then sat immediately back down. "Okay, ow."
"Uh huh." Sam pointed and Dean flicked a finger at him before grabbing the pills and the water. "You aint exactly a picture of bruise free living yourself, you know. How are you even vertical?"
"It's not that bad now." Sam told him and went back to his research. It was actually far worse than he was making out, the aching in his back and chest threatening to hunch him over but he swallowed it back. He'd taken a look under Dean's shirt when he got out of the shower and couldn't believe he'd forced his brother to take care of him like a child when he was so hurt himself. Now all he had to do was keep Dean preoccupied enough to not actually test him. "I've been researching the case while you were sleeping."
Dean sucked it up and stood, succeeding this time and went to sit across from Sam who pushed a tall cup of coffee at him with a smile. "Ok, not only are you up and walkin' around but you went and got coffee?" Dean took a grateful sip and sighed. "Guess you are better than I thought you were so, what'd you dig up?"
Sam smiled; grateful he'd distracted him and turned the laptop to face him. "So outside town there's a bunch of abandoned mines. No big deal now but back in the day the whole area was the site of a massacre. Union Miners fighting the Mine Operators." Sam leaned back, trying to ignore the twinge across his back. "It was a mess. Over fifty official dead and no one seems to know how many unofficial in the camps and mines while it was all going on."
"Oh well that's just…awesome." Dean rolled his eyes. "So our confused M.O. is probably because we're dealing with fifty or more pissed off spooks? This just gets better and better."
"Gets better. Last night they found two more victims." Sam frowned and looked up to the ceiling for patience. "Apparently, there's a carnival camped up there and they were just outside the camp."
"Carnival?" Dean's eyebrows rose and he didn't quite hide the smirk. "So, Carnies….clowns."
"Bite me." Sam said. He stood and made a show of gathering papers to hide the fact he needed to lean on the table to straighten up. "We should go up there and have a look. You up for it?" Sam gestured at Dean's chest and his brother gave him a disbelieving look.
"I should be asking you that, man. I'm not the one who spent several hours tied up in a damn box and drugged to hell and back." Dean stood and slapped a hand out to Sam's forehead before he could stop him. "You're warm." Sam batted his hand away.
"Dean, it's like eighty in here. Of course I'm warm." Sam laughed it off and moved away. "Go shower. I'll see about getting directions up there."
Dean narrowed his eyes, not convinced but went to shower, trusting his brother not to be stupid about being too hurt for the hunt. "Find me a donut! I'm starving!"
Sam snorted a laugh and let out a relieved breath when Dean shut the bathroom door. "Why did it have to be clowns?" He said softly to himself and went to raid the Motel office for a map.
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There was a light fog hanging in the low valley as they drove toward the site of the most recent killings. Dean drove slowly down the road that was little more than a wide dirt track. The Motel owner had no problem giving Sam directions to Cabin Creek and then had creepily wished him luck on his way in a sotto voice. Clearly the man was used to making tourists nervous.
"Mah baby does not need this crap in her undercarriage." Dean growled as red dirt pelted the underside of the car.
"Dude only you could make that sentence sound dirty." Sam chuckled.
"Hey she doesn't like that stuff under her skirt." Dean groused and came to a grateful stop at an orange safety barrier at the end of the road. Beyond they could see Cabin Creek churning happily along in the muted morning light. "Come on, Tanto."
"You are so not the Lone Ranger." Sam groaned. The groan led to a cough as his throat tickled, scratchy and sore. Thankfully, Dean had already gotten out and didn't notice. He cleared his throat and took a hasty swig from his water bottle before getting carefully out. Sam shut the door and turned in time to catch the bag Dean tossed to him with a grunt.
"Head's up." Dean grabbed his own bag and closed the trunk. "Figure we'll check out the crime scene and then head up and see if Pennywise has anything to say." He grinned at his little brother's pained look. "Relax dude. I won't let the clowns get you."
"Such a jerk." Sam muttered and shouldered the bag. He turned away so Dean wouldn't see the effort it cost him and followed Dean's long-legged stride past the barrier and toward the river. He slipped the EMF meter out of his pocket and switched it on. "Getting some faint readings here." He called to Dean. "Whatever was here, it's moved on."
"Well it was damn messy." Dean pointed to a dented case of beer covered in blood splatter beside a man sized indent in the muddy earth. "Paper said the other guy was bashed in the head and dragged into the river. Where's the nearest mine?"
"Uh." Sam pulled the map out of his jacket pocket. "Up that ridge there." He pointed to a rise ahead of them. "The…carnival's camped in front of the mine entrance."
Dean gave him a cheerful grin. "Let's go meet the locals." He strode away with a chuckle, hearing Sam huff along behind him. His brother's phobia of clowns was something he just couldn't help but find humor in. He trudged up the muddy track, huffing for air by the time he reached the top of the ridge and rubbed a hand over his bruised chest. "Ow." He looked down in the small valley and forgot about the ache. "Hey, Sammy you're gonna wanna see this."
Sam made himself get up from where he'd stumbled before Dean could see him. His entire body was screaming at him each time he moved. His right shoulder was a burning, nagging ache and he thought maybe it was partially dislocated from being trussed up in the box. He sighed and climbed up to his brother. It'd sort itself out in time. "What…" Sam trailed off in surprise. Below them was a circle of colorful wagons and vans, pennants flying, tents ruffling in the mountain breeze and not a soul in sight.
"Ok, there's something hinkey going on here." Dean pulled his shotgun from his bag and nodded at Sam to do the same. From their vantage, Dean could see a Mine entrance on the other side of the camp; a dark opening braced in wood and a barricade tossed roughly to the side. There should have been dozens of Carnies wandering the camp. They neared and could smell fires burning untended with pots hanging over them, laundry flapping on a line and some had drifted from their pins to flap in the trees surrounding the clearing. "I don't like this."
"Yeah. What the hell happened here?" Sam looked down and nudged Dean's shoulder, pointing. There was a clear, well-traveled area in the center covered in footprints and beyond, a wide trail of many sized prints all leading the same place; the Mine. "This can't be good."
"Got your flashlight?" Dean pulled his own mag-light from his pocket and Sam nodded. "Ok, maybe they just decided to take a tour." He snorted at the idea and ducked under the lintel of the entrance with Sam at his side, shotguns ready.
"How's a whole troupe of Carnies just cut and run?" Sam asked softly, shining his light. "I mean these guys are usually tough as nails."
"Shit." Dean strode ahead and knelt. "Something was chasing them." He shined his light on the body at his feet. Face down and pointing further into the Mine; the back of his suit jacket was shredded and wet with his blood. Dean stood, his nerves on edge and nodded at Sam.
Sam pulled the EMF back out and flipped it on. Immediately the needle climbed into the red and buried itself before he turned it off and put it away. "Yeah, it's hot in here."
Dean led, Sam watching his back and followed the turning passage. He stepped carefully over mine rails half buried in dirt with disuse and gestured to another body laid out between them. Twenty feet further and another unfortunate soul waited them. She laid face up, beard making Dean's mouth twitch even though she had met a sticky end. He went carefully around her and whipped about when Sam cried out.
"Sammy?" Dean saw his brother go down and looked around for any attacker.
Sam groaned and pushed slowly to his knees. "Tripped." He said shortly, embarrassment coloring his face. "Sorry."
"Geez, Sam, give me a heart…" Dean grunted when something white and red streaked out of a nearby tunnel and body slammed him into a wall. The impact made his head ring and he slid to the ground, stunned as a clown rose up menacingly above him.
"Dean!" Sam shouted. He looked up into the crazily painted face of a clown and froze. Floppy feet, suspenders, too large pants and afro red wig; the clown stalked to Sam, arms reaching. "Holy crap." Sam shook himself, grabbed his gun from the dirt and fired into its chest. He'd expected it to dissolve as ghosts normally did but instead there was a very human cry and the clown dropped to the ground in a boneless heap. A dark mist rose from the body and flew away into a wall. Sam took a deep, steadying breath and then crawled over to his brother.
"Dean? You ok?" Sam slipped a hand behind Dean's head and came away with a few drops of blood.
"Huh? Yeah." Dean shook his head, trying to banish the cobwebs and looked over at the colorful body on the ground a few feet away. "Damn ghost possessed a freakin clown?"
"Guess that's why they took off into the Mine." Sam said, voice shaking a little as he looked back. "Suppose I should see if he's still alive."
Dean snorted and used Sam's arm to pull himself up. "I got this." He felt Sam trembling beneath his hand and shook his head. "Dude you gotta get over this."
Sam nodded and said nothing. Dean used his right arm to pull himself up and the resulting pain stole his breath. Yup, Sam thought to himself, dislocated. Definitely. He concentrated on slowing his breathing and transferred his shotgun to his left hand before turning to Dean. "How is he?"
"He's alive." Dean nodded and stood. "Don't think he's waking up anytime soon though. Come on, there's gotta be someone else left alive in here."
Sam sighed, he could have used five minutes to recoup but then, sitting around with a clown made him twitch. He followed his brother and tried several times to rotate his shoulder all the way back in.
"Dude, button it back there." Dean said softly, hearing his brother grunt. He motioned ahead of them; he could hear something shuffling. He raised the shotgun and light, peering into the gloom and cussed when two midget clowns sprinted out of the darkness. "Oh come ON!" Dean shouted. He hit the first in the chest with the rock salt and heard the report as his brother hit the second. Both diminutive clowns lay on their backs and as before, dark mist rose from their bodies and vanished into the walls.
Sam shook his head. "Ok, midget clowns. That's just…wrong."
Dean snorted a laugh, checking both and finding them alive. He looked up to Sam's pale face and smirked. "You need to wait outside while I take care of the evil, possessed clowns, Sammy?"
"Bite me, Dean." Sam gave him a bitch face and took the lead, leaving his brother to follow. "I can handle the damn clowns."
"Not me. I'm gonna have nightmares for a month." Dean said on a short laugh. His chest still felt tight from its impact with the steering wheel. He rotated his shoulders, shrugging off the discomfort and followed close behind Sam. In the quiet and with his flashlight shining on Sam's back, he narrowed his eyes. He was limping slightly, shoulders hunched. His little brother was not as well as he was making out. As if to prove the point, Sam tripped again and stumbled into the wall.
"Dammit!" Sam ground out under his breath.
"Hey, Sammy." Dean stepped up beside him, concerned.
"I'm good." Sam said through clenched teeth.
"The hell you are." Dean took his left arm and pulled him upright. "Dude what the hell? Why'd you come out here this hurt?"
"Dean, I'm fine." Sam said sternly and took his own weight to prove it. "Just jarred my shoulder is all."
"We're going." Dean started to tug him and Sam wiggled free.
"No way, Dean. There could still be people alive in there." Sam argued and stepped away. "We're not leaving them."
"Dammit, Sammy." He shook his head and followed his obstinate brother, knowing he was full of crap. Sam coughed ahead of him, muffling it in his shoulder and Dean growled. He wondered when Sam had forgotten going on a Hunt wounded made you a liability. Dean rolled his own shoulders, easing the ache across his chest and smiled ruefully; he wasn't exactly living up to that rule himself.
"Dean." Sam called. "I hear voices up ahead. Come on."
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To be continued…
Ok kids! Prompt time again! How did I do? Tried to get everything in in one form or another! Let me know what you think and what you want in the next chapter!