Title: Reader's Special: Fourth Edition - One Shot Reward Fic Collection
Author: Disasteriffic Kaz
Info: A collection of 1 Shot Reward Fics for Prompters of my Reader's Special: Fourth Edition. Features many seasons, hurt/limp/awesome/caring!Sam/Dean/John/Bobby See each chapter for specific info for each 1 shot reward fic.
Author's Note: The Reader's Special: Fourth Edition was a smashing success! Prompters of the story were offered a One Shot Reward story of their choice. These are they. None of the chapters contained in this collection are connected. Each one is a stand-alone one shot per the Prompters request. Thank you to all of you who prompted the Reader's Special! You were fantastic as always!
Chapter Info: For Becksupernatural - I would like you to set the story either in season 1/2 or 8 :) So, in many fics i've read i found sentences like 'and if it wasn't for dean, he (sam, of course) would have gone right back down', so i was wondering if you could write what would happen to sam if dean isn't there to catch him every time he falls? Maybe you could somehow even let dean be there, watching but unable to touch and help...
A/N: I went with season 2 on this one. After 2x03 "Bloodlust". This one… sort of had a life of its own and Dean decided he wanted to tell the story, or most of it, so here you are. LOL I hope this is what you were looking for! :D
NOTE this story has now been expanded to a complete 6 chapter story called "Down Time". You may want to step away and go read that instead, then come back here to chapter 10. :D Enjoy!
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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Dean closed his eyes and tried to decide just when he'd lost control of this job so badly; where had he gone so horribly wrong? He sucked in a breath and opened his eyes again. Raising his head to look down at himself took a monumental effort of will and he groaned softly as he looked down his body. Sammy's gonna kill me, he thought to himself and then gave a wet chuckle as he let his head drop back to the floor. He'd have to live long enough for that first.
"Still with us, Winchester?"
Dean coughed softly and rolled his head over. Black boots walked across the scuffed, wooden floor and stopped next to him. Dean let his eyes drag up the man's body until he could glare at the shifter's face. "S…screw…screw you."
"Be nice."
Dean grunted when one of the man's booted feet slammed into his ribs and rolled on his side to try and protect himself.
"Get him up."
"Ah he… hell," Dean gasped when the other two shifters appeared and dragged him to his feet. The motion nearly cost him his hold on consciousness, and he spent a few dizzying moments with the room spinning before the shifter who'd spoken grabbed his jaw in a tight grip.
"You're not dead yet." The shifter grinned with the borrowed face of the man they'd been trying to save.
Dean figured his little brother would be suffering over this one, wherever he was, and he truly hoped Sam was nowhere near this mess. "More… more beating?" Dean smirked and spat a gob of blood at the shifter's feet. "Think I got… gotta a couple rib… ribs you missed."
"You're awful cocky for someone who's going to be swimming in his own blood when I'm done." The shifter smiled and stepped back.
Dean watched him pull a short, slim knife from his sleeve and rolled his eyes. "Call that a kni… knife?"
"Size isn't everything, Dean." The shifter smirked and put the point of the blade to the inside of Dean's elbow. "Oh, hold him still already," he growled when Dean weakly tried to jerk his arm free. "Bet you're still kicking yourself for not realizing there was more than one of us at work here, huh?" He pulled the blade down Dean's left forearm and smiled when the man shouted in pain and blood welled to drip to the floor. "I want you to know I'm being careful to not hit the artery."
"M'I supposed to… s'posed to thank you? Asshole," Dean groaned as his legs gave out and only the shifters holding him kept him on his feet. His arm burned with fresh pain, and the feel of his blood flowing and dripping made his skin itch.
"You should." The shifter moved to Dean's other arm and flicked the point of the knife into Dean's wrist. "After all, I did make your little brother a promise."
Dean went still with shock and pulled his head up to glare death at the creature. "Where… where is he? Where's my brother, you son'fa bitch!" He shook his head and got his feet back under him as well as he could. "No… no, you're… screwin' wi'me."
"Dean. I'm crushed." The shifter took Dean's jaw in his hand again and jerked his head up. "When have I lied to you? Or did you think I was off cleaning my nails of your blood while you were lying on the floor? No." He leaned in and grinned at the look of slowly dawning fear moving across the hunter's face. "I was spending a little quality time…" He grinned. "…with Sammy."
Dean stared in renewed horror as the door on the other side of the room opened and a shifter wearing Dean's own face walked in with a smile. "No, no, no. Don't… don't do this."
"Already done, Dean, and I have to say," The first shifter clicked his tongue and shook his head. "Sammy did not react well to my son, there. Has a little shifter PTSD, does he?"
"Shuddup!" Dean shouted and then bent over as far as his captors allowed, coughing. His lungs burned along with his chest and however many broken or cracked ribs they'd given him. Spots began to crawl across his vision, and then the shifter was there again to hold his face up.
"Take a breath. That's it. Don't want you passing out yet. Want you to enjoy the show." The shifter grinned and waited for Dean's breathing to even slightly. "I told little brother that if he could find you, he could have you. All he has to do is find you."
"Wha'… wha's that mean?" Dean wheezed in a few breaths and tried to keep his head up on his own when the shifter let him go.
"If he can find you, and if…" The shifter snorted a laugh. "Well, if he can get you out of this building, you're free to go. No harm. No foul. We won't come after you."
"Why?" Dean sagged in their arms again with his head spinning from blood loss and his heart hammering in his chest with fear for his brother.
"Because I'm just that generous. And it's fun." The shifter looked over Dean's shoulder and grinned. "And there he is now. Turn him around. Let him look, but keep him quiet."
The shifters holding Dean turned him in a dizzying spin. He grunted in pain when his knees were forcibly kicked out from under him and he went to the floor. They held him kneeling there in a steely grip and a strong hand slapped over his mouth. Dean blinked to clear his vision and realized he was in front of a window that looked down on the lumber mill. Below them was the long central room of the mill. An old conveyor belt ran the length from end to end. Hooks dangled from the ceiling, and staggering into view off to Dean's right was his little brother. Dean bit the hand over his mouth, trying to get room to call out for Sam, but they held him fast and he received a vicious punch to the side of his head for his trouble.
"Now, now, Dean. You can watch but you can't help. One-way mirror. He can't see us." The shifter moved between Dean and the window, tapping the glass lightly twice and knelt to grin at him. "Sammy's not doing so well, it seems. Poor kid. You were a little hard on him." He laughed as Dean's enraged shout was muffled behind the hands holding him. "I think he was actually doing pretty well at holding his own until you took the knife to him."
Dean raged and threw what little strength he had left against the things holding him, but it wasn't enough. He was forced to watch and suffer as Sam stumbled and fell. He landed hard, Dean could tell that even from above, and he shook with anger as Sam managed to climb back to his feet, only to go down again even harder. His little brother curled into himself and Dean wished the light was brighter so he could get a better look at him. A moment later, he was glad it wasn't because he wasn't sure he could stand seeing whatever they'd done to him.
"He's a smart kid, Dean." The shifter shrugged. "I'm sure he's probably figured out where you are, and…oh, yes, he has. See? He's looking toward the stairs." He chuckled. "Awful long way to those stairs. I'm not sure he can make it, especially if he's still bleeding. Is he still bleeding?"
"Oh, yeah, he is."
Dean cringed at the sound of his own voice over his shoulder, so cold and yet so full of glee at Sam's pain. He couldn't believe that Sam had to go through that again, had to survive the nightmare of something wearing Dean's face beating him… hurting him. It had taken days the last time for his brother to not flinch when he woke and saw Dean's face, and he wondered how long it would take this time. Each flinch had been like a knife through his heart; a condemnation of how he'd failed to protect him and nearly lost him.
In the room below, Sam uncurled and gained his feet again, but it was only a moment before his legs refused to hold him and he dropped. It was killing Dean to be forced to watch. From the time Sam had been a toddler tripping over his own feet right up through various hunting injuries, Dean had always been there to catch him when he fell and to hold him up when he was too weak to do it himself. Hell, he'd carried Sam when he'd had to. To have to watch him suffer and fall on his own now was killing a part of Dean. He wanted to scream at Sam to get his ass out of there, but knew that, even if he could, Sam wouldn't listen. He knew without any doubt in his mind that, as long as Sam could draw breath, he would not abandon Dean any more than Dean would ever leave him behind. But watching him struggling like this, knowing his little brother could be bleeding out as he watched, made Dean want to lash out and fight back even if it killed him. As if the shifter sensed it, he lunged in suddenly and drove the small knife into Dean's shoulder.
"Shh. Shh. That's it. There we go." The shifter gave the blade a little twist before pulling it back and watching the fresh blood stain Dean's shirt. "I'm not an idiot. I've heard more than one story about how you Winchesters somehow manage to wreak havoc even when you're bleeding all over the place." He chuckled softly and patted the side of Dean's face almost fondly. "Just making sure that you don't have enough strength left to manage that here. Oh. Oh, dear. I think Sammy's hitting the end of his rope down there."
Dean whimpered around the hand muffling him. He knew it and he didn't care as Sam began a slow, agonizing crawl over the floor of the lumber mill toward the stairs.
"He tracked your cell phone, by the way," the shifter said conversationally as they watched Sam's painful progress. "That's how he knew where to come. When you didn't answer your phone, he put those college smarts to use and found you." He chuckled and winked at Dean. "He had a few choice words to say to you for taking off on your own once he found you… well, you know what I mean. If it's any consolation, it only took him a few minutes to realize that you weren't… exactly… you. I'm impressed. Honestly, most people never figure it out until they're bleeding."
Dean cheered inwardly for his perceptive little brother and just wished he himself hadn't been so damn fool stupid in the first place. He'd been so focused on not losing Sam so close on the heels of their dad that he'd come to search the mill on his own, figuring he could handle one shifter. Dean closed his eyes when Sam sagged to the floor again and listened to the laughter of the shifters around him.
"You should have listened to Sam when he told you he thought something else was going on," the shifter said and casually plunged the knife into the meat of Dean's thigh, enjoying the choked sounds the man made in response. "He was right." He stood and tossed the knife away across the floor, no longer needing it. "Tie his arms and make sure you duct tape his mouth."
Dean jerked as his arms were pulled behind him. He would have cried out in pain if not for the hand over his mouth and slammed his eyes closed when he felt his wrists being bound. He looked up at the shifter when he tapped the top of Dean's head.
"We're going to leave now. It's up to Sam whether you live or die." The shifter grinned. "I think they'll be finding both your bodies up here in a few days when the work crews come back, but you never know." He looked down into the mill at Sam Winchester, still lying on the floor and smiled. "Have a nice death, Winchester."
Dean grunted as he was pushed over to his back hard. All the air left his lungs when one of the shifters holding him stomped his foot into Dean's stomach. It kept him from crying out to his brother when the hand moved away from his mouth, and a moment later, heavy tape was slapped in its place. He rolled his head and watched the shifters leave and stared death at the creature wearing his likeness when it stopped to give Dean a wink before closing the door. He turned his head toward the window instead and wished he could see down to the lumber mill floor again.
He tried to roll off his bound hands, and the pain from his shoulder and cracked ribs stole what little breath he had. Dean was left panting through his nose for too little air. He fought the blackness rolling down on him, but it was too much and his eyes fell closed.
Sound came back to Dean first and he frowned, hearing something he couldn't identify, like something heavy being dragged over wood. He tried to open his mouth and jerked when he couldn't, and it all came rushing back - the shifters, being bound and gagged, and Sam. Dean snapped his eyes open and tried to move. He moaned in pain behind the tape and then heard the sounds again. He rolled his head toward the door and watched as it swung open slowly. He expected the shifters, returning to finish what they'd started, and his eyes blew wide in surprise when it was Sam who came through the door. Dean watched his brother take a step into the room and then collapse to the floor, and his muffled shouts couldn't drown out the sound of Sam wheezing for breath. He waited for Sam to lift his head and caught his brother's blue-green eyes desperately.
"Hang… hang on, Dean." Sam's voice was a hoarse whisper through a raw throat and he hung his head as he got to his hands and knees.
Dean could see pain and exhaustion in every line of Sam's body as his little brother crawled the eight feet across the floor to reach him. As badly as he wanted to do something, anything, to help, he couldn't. Even lying there, he was fighting the need to pass out again. He could feel it like a dark tide waiting to wash down over him. What little he could make out of his brother didn't give him any peace. All he could see was blood, blood everywhere, staining Sam's shirt and jeans and even the shaggy hair on the back of his head was matted with it. Dean's eyes narrowed angrily when Sam reached him and brought his head up again. His throat was ringed with bruises as though he'd been strangled over and over and Dean knew; the shifter wearing him had seen what the last shifter Sam had met had tried to do to him and used it. He watched Sam's shaking hand reach up and take hold of the corner of the duct tape. Dean gave him a nod and braced himself as Sam ripped it from his face.
"Sammy!" Dean gasped and sucked in grateful gasps of air. "Hands… get my… untie me." He needed to get his hands on his brother and see how bad it was.
Sam nodded wearily and then curled forward to rest his head on Dean's shoulder for a moment. "Jus'… need… need a minute."
"Ok, buddy," Dean nodded and swallowed the lump of emotion in his throat. "Sam, how bad?"
Sam shook his head and sat back up slowly. "I'll be fine."
"Bull…" Dean coughed and groaned at the fresh waves of pain. "…bullshit."
"Take… take a breath," Sam warned his brother and slid his hands under Dean's shoulder and hip. The amount of blood on his big brother and pooling beneath him was terrifying him along with how little Dean had moved since he came in the room. He took a deep breath of his own, held it and used what little strength he had to push and roll Dean onto his side. "Sorry. Sorry," he said when Dean cried out and then curled in on himself.
Dean managed to shake his head and somehow not pass out through the waves of agony. He held as still as he could while Sam untied his wrists, grimacing as he felt blood and skin tearing with whatever they had used to bind him. "Sam."
"Called… called Bobby." Sam scowled at the phone cord wrapped far too tightly around his brother's bloody wrists and finally slipped it off. He tossed it away angrily and took Dean's shoulder, pulling him gently onto his back again. He smirked at his brother weakly. "Asshole who was… was wearin' your… your face. Pickpocketed his phone when he was on me. Bobby's comin'."
Dean brought his right arm up and took hold of Sam's before he could pull away. "Siddown," he slurred and tugged, unsurprised when Sam toppled sideways into him. He hissed with pain when his brother's elbow bumped his shoulder and didn't give a damn. "Said… asshole said he carved you up."
Sam nodded and slumped down, finally too exhausted from the pain and the blood loss to stay upright anymore. "Wasn' tryin' to kill me… more or less."
Dean pulled on Sam's arm a little more until his brother gave in and ended up lying on the floor with his head on Dean's chest. He put his hand carefully on the back of Sam's head and turned it a little. "You concussed?" Sam gave him a nod. When he tried to move again, mumbling something about finding bandages, Dean held him down with his hand on his head. "Knock… knock it off. Not goin' anywhere til' Bobby gets here."
"Pushy," Sam grumbled but he stopped trying to move and instead focused on listening to his brother's heart beat under his ear. It had taken him a half an hour to crawl the length of the mill and get up the stairs, and the whole time, the one thought that had screamed through his mind was that he would be too late; that he'd find Dean lying dead somewhere. When he'd first opened the door into the room and seen his brother motionless on the floor covered in far too much blood , it had stolen his breath and stopped his heart for a beat until Dean had moved. His world had snapped back into motion then, and Sam was content now to wait for Bobby. He wasn't leaving Dean alone again any time soon.
"We're ok, Sammy," Dean whispered and was comforted by the heavy weight of Sam's head on his chest. He wished he could get up and carry them both out of there, but for now, he'd be content to wait. They were alive and they were together. "Sorry. S'my fault."
"Yep," Sam said quickly and smiled when Dean's fingers tightened in his hair for a moment. "Kick your ass… later."
Dean snorted softly and let his eyes close. "Deal."
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The End.
NOTE this story has now been expanded to a complete 6 chapter story called "Down Time". You may want to step away and go read that instead, then come back here to chapter 10. :D Enjoy!
Next Up: Lucydolly22
