Title: Reader's Special: Second Edition - One Shot Reward Fic Collection

Author: Disasteriffic Kaz

Info: A collection of 1 Shot Reward Fics for Prompters of my Reader's Special: Third 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: Third 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 Jeanny - I'd like Season 7 after TB-AI, Cas took the hallucinations and cured physical
damages from the accident, but a virus escaped his notice and sleep-deprived Sam goes down hard. But that's okay because Dean wanted to take care of him anyway. Basically a big schmoopy comfort fic.

A/N: Oh no…a reason to write schmoopy goodness with my boys? Whatever shall I do? Go to town and enjoy myself of course. :P heh heh heh One schmoop-fest ready to go!

Beta'd by the always awesome JaniceC678 :D– Friend and Muse's co-conspirator.

**Follow me on Facebook as "Disasteriffic Kaz" for frequent fic updates or just to chat!
~Reviews are Love~

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Sam leaned back in the passenger seat of the Impala with his forehead against the cool glass of the window and tried to convince himself that it was real; this was real. Dean had really brought Cas to him, the angel had taken away the madness, saved his life…it all seemed so improbable when only hours before he'd been convinced he was going to die alone hearing and seeing nothing but Lucifer's taunting for whatever time he had left. He was going to die. He'd been as sure of that as he'd ever been of anything before. Sam had been so tired, so deprived of sleep, even his own body was giving out on him, and he remembered hearing a nurse saying that if his heart didn't simply stop, the virus would kill him…Or maybe it had been Lucifer dressed as a nurse. Reality had pretty much blurred on him at that point, but he knew he had heard SOMEONE say it.

Sam opened his eyes and rolled his head slightly to look over at the passenger seat and his brother, needing to see him again. He wondered what Dean would think if he knew it was the flu he could feel starting to take hold that was reassuring him he was really out and smirked.

"You think of something funny over there?" Dean saw the look and raised his brows. "You're supposed to be pulling a Rip Van Winkle, you know?"

Sam nodded and rolled his head back into the window. His whole body was strung out with exhaustion but… "It's too quiet."

Dean opened his mouth to ask what he meant and then closed it; he knew. Sam had been living in a crowded head for so long that the sudden silence had to be, well, deafening. He smiled and reached over, turning the radio on. He cranked the volume enough to fill the car but low enough to hopefully let Sam fall asleep. Cas may have healed his body, but the kid had barely slept for months. Angel mojo or not, he needed sleep. He smiled as Sam's body visibly relaxed into sleep and nodded, satisfied.

Two hours later, Dean pulled off the highway in search of somewhere with decent coffee. He wasn't driving to anywhere in particular, just away from the hospital, as though putting distance between it and his brother would somehow help him swallow down the fear that still lived in him. Oh, he smiled for Sam, but it was still there, that familiar, old panic of what to do if he couldn't save his brother. He knew that, this time, there wouldn't have been any deals if Sam had died. This time, he would found somewhere safe and scenic to leave his baby, and he'd have eaten a bullet in her front seat; together or nothing. Dean was done trying to live in a world without Sam. There was just too much - demons, angels and leviathans -and if Sam had died, the world could kiss his Winchester ass and learn to go on without either of them in it.

Dean jumped in his seat as Sam sneezed himself awake and startled him out of his dark thoughts. "Sam?" He pulled off into a gas station and watched with a well-trained eye as Sam straightened and rubbed at his face. "You gettin' sick on me?"

"Huh?" Sam blinked around the car fuzzily, his brain still not caught up to the fact he was awake again.

"I missed your witty conversation," Dean said, tongue in cheek, and snorted a laugh when Sam just stared at him. He parked at a pump and nudged his brother's shoulder. "Dude, go sleep in the backseat."

Sam shook his head. "M'good here." To prove it, he curled over into the window again.

Dean rolled his eyes and got out, leaving the radio on for him. Once he'd filled the tank, he took a look in the passenger window and Sam was asleep again. He looked around and spotted a drug store just behind the gas station and nodded. Dean made sure the car was locked and jogged across the lot. A lot of things were screwed the hell up right now, but one thing hadn't changed. He still knew when his little brother was coming down with a damn cold.

He went quickly through the store, packing up what he figured he'd need and was back at the car in under ten minutes. Sam was still asleep but had turned to face the driver's side instead, and Dean chuckled as he slid behind the wheel. "Ok, sasquatch. Time to find us a motel for you to be miserable in." He started the car and heard Sam heave a sigh and settle deeper into the seat. Dean revved the engine a couple times, smirking as Sam's head slowly drooped down the seat toward him in relaxation and pulled out.

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Sam jerked awake with something under his nose and blinked to find Dean grinning at him. "Wha?" He looked around and realized they'd stopped. "Where are we?"

"Motel. Come on, sleepin' beauty." Dean pulled him out of the car and held his arm when he swayed tiredly. The last hour he'd spent with a hand on his brother's neck, monitoring his rising fever. "Inside." He gave him a shove toward the room and the already open door.

Sam stumbled into the room and went unerringly toward the far bed, a lifetime of habit guiding his feet without conscious thought. He dropped onto the end of it and sat, rubbing his hands over his face and tried to get his brain to wake up. He glanced up as Dean came in and shut the door. "Gimme a minute. I'll do the wards."

"Shut up. I got it." Dean was in full-on big brother mode. Sam still looked as though he were half-asleep, pale and exhausted; it was making it easy for him to slip into the old mold. He went to Sam and got his jacket off before he was aware enough to realize, and when he did, his attempt at protest was feeble at best.

"Dude, knock it off." Sam brushed at his brother's hands, trying and failing to stop him getting his flannel off along with his jacket. "What am I, five?"

"Have you seen you today?" Dean snorted. He bent and tugged one sneaker off, tossed it aside and grabbed the other before Sam kicked him. He pulled the blanket back and gave him a shove. "Lay down already."

"Dude, I'm…no, I'm good." Sam stubbornly remained sitting as Dean went to a pile of plastic grocery bags and rummaged through them. "When did we stop at a store?"

"While you were in coma-ville," Dean smirked. He pulled out two bottles and came back. "Here." He twisted the cap off the Nyquil and handed it to him. "Drink."

Sam held the bottle and stared at it. "Why do I need Nyquil?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "You have a fever, dumbass."

"Oh." Sam nodded. "Right." He shrugged and swigged a third of the bottle down before Dean took it back.

"Wow, you are half-asleep still," Dean chuckled. "Not even tryin' to lie to me and say you feel fine."

"I do feel f…" He broke off with a frustrated growl as Dean shoved him over on his side and his head thumped into the pillow. He told himself he let Dean cover him with the blanket, that it had nothing to do with not wanting to move, and sighed in gratitude when Dean turned the television on and set the volume just high enough to be a comforting noise in his ears, drowning the silence.

Dean pulled the curtains once he saw Sam doze off in spite of himself and set about making the room as safe a haven as he could. He'd paid for it with cash and hoped they wouldn't draw any unwanted leviathan attention. Once he'd covered the door and window in a variety of symbols that would keep out every ghost, demon, and angel he stretched out on the other bed and waited to see just how sick Sam was going to get. He rolled his eyes, supposing it was too much to ask that, when Cas had healed Sam of the damage that had resulted from the collapse of the wall in his brain, he'd got the stupid bug while he was at it.

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Dean woke with a start as his head slipped off his hand and looked over at his brother. Sam was tangled in the sheets on his back and covered in sweat. "Hell," Dean groaned. He rolled off his bed and sat next to Sam. He took the thermometer he'd bought earlier and stuck it in his brother's ear, smirking when Sam frowned irritably in his sleep.

"Relax, Sammy. For once, it's not me screwin' with you." Dean pulled it back out when it beeped and frowned in concern. "You don't do anything easy, do you? Ok, buddy. Time to wake up." His temperature was a worrying hundred and three point seven. "Sam." Dean shook him until Sam's watery eyes finally opened. "Gotta cool you off, man."

"S'hot." Sam mumbled and groaned when Dean took his arms and pulled him up so he was sitting.

"No shit, Sherlock." Dean got hold of Sam's sweat-soaked t-shirt and tugged it over his head, tangling his arms and chuckling at Sam's attempts to free his arms. It made him look like he was ten again.

"Stop laughin' a'me," Sam scowled up at his brother. He moaned and dropped his head. It felt like it weighed a hundred pounds. The more he thought about it, he realized his whole body felt like it weighed too much and where was all the heat coming from? He blinked and found he was standing, leaning heavily against Dean as he was dragged to the bathroom. "Dean?"

"I gotcha, buddy. Come on," Dean pulled him along, his worry growing as Sam seemed mostly insensible with fever. He sat him on the toilet, letting him lean over against the sink, turned the light on and started the shower. "Sam, dude. Don't make me take your pants off."

Sam got his head up and nodded groggily. "Can do it." He made himself sit up, understanding finally that he had a fever and Dean wanted him to cool down. He fumbled unzipping his jeans and peered up at Dean. "You really gon'watch?"

Dean snorted and raised his hands. "Knock yourself out." He went to the door and pulled it closed, staying on the other side and listened in case Sam hit the floor; he was that out of it. He smirked when he heard Sam's shout at the cold temperature and cracked the door. "Just sit in the bottom, dude."

Sam grunted where he leaned against the tiles. Any other time, he might have said something sarcastic in response but he was just too hot, too tired, and too…too everything. He slid down the wall until he was sitting under the cold spray and leaned his head against the wall. Sam gave a small smile. As bad as he felt, it was comforting to know it was just a flu and, more importantly…that Dean was here to make him do this, take a damn cold shower. He gave a congested chuckle as the cold water started to make him shiver and ran his long hair into his face. It used to irritate him when Dean would mother-hen him, but, now, after so long spent on the edge of giving up, it was comforting and it felt like 'home'.

Dean gave him ten minutes and then stuck his head back in the bathroom. "Sammy?" He'd heard the shower shut off five minutes before and nothing since. The shower curtain was still drawn. He smirked knowingly. "Ran out of gas, huh?"

Sam still sat in the bottom of the tub, face against the cool tile and groaned. "Can't get up." His body was not cooperating with him. He jumped as a towel landed on his hand.

"Cover up, dude." Dean swallowed his laughter; it wouldn't get his brother out of the tub.

Sam pulled the towel off his head and around him, covering himself and wearily tugged at the curtain. "Ok." It was humiliating needing to be helped out of the damn shower like a child and he blushed furiously when Dean pulled it open and bent over him.

"Come on, kiddo," Dean reached in and grabbed Sam under his shoulders.

"Not…helping." Sam rolled his eyes, red with embarrassment as his big brother got him out of the tub and back out to the bed. "Crap."

"Give yourself a break, Sam," Dean said, suddenly serious and knelt in front of him. "You nearly died." He choked on the last word and cleared his throat, trying not to see the liquid look in his little brother's eyes. He pulled Sam's duffel over instead and pulled his sweats out.

Sam blinked tears back and gave a watery laugh while Dean got his sweats on his legs and tugged them up to his knees. "Thanks. I can do it." He stood, needing Dean's help to stay standing on wobbly legs and tugged them the rest of the way up under the towel. He dropped back to the bed and didn't argue when Dean pushed him over into the pillows once more. "I don't mind," Sam said softly.

"Mind what?" Dean asked as he pulled the blanket up over him.

"This. It's real." Sam turned on his side and wrapped his arms around the pillow, closing his eyes. "It's real and I know it's real. It's good."

Dean sighed and sat on the bed next to him because he understood. "Yeah, it is, Sammy." He pushed Sam's wet hair off his forehead, frowning at the heat still cooking there even though it had lessened somewhat under the shower. "So is it…is it all gone? You alone in there for real?" It was the question he'd been afraid to ask, worried that if the answer was no it would break him, but Sam smiled.

"Yeah, Dean. No one in here now but me," Sam cracked an eye to look up at him. "Feels kinda weird, actually. I keep…waiting, I think. You know like…any second he's gonna jump out at me with…with fire and ice and..."

Sam's voice was soft and tense, and Dean squeezed his shoulder. "Not gonna happen, Sammy. That bastard's outta your melon for good."

Sam nodded and let himself slide back into sleep under the comforting weight of his brother's hand on his shoulder. He drifted for a while, he thought, in a mostly dreamless state, but then the burning started. It made him hot…and then he was cold….and hot again and then behind it all, like an insidious whisper of something remembered…the voice of Lucifer froze his blood in terror.

"Sam! Dammit, wake up!" Dean leaned over his thrashing brother, trying to hold him down in the tub in the cold water and keep his head above it at the same time. His fever had spiked again, higher than before, and then the nightmares started. Dean suffered for him as Sam chanted 'no, no, no' over and over in a broken, hoarse voice. "Come on, Sammy. You gotta wake up!" He'd dragged his brother into the bathroom and then the tub and looked over at his cell on the toilet seat again, honestly considering whether or not he could risk his brother in a potentially leviathan-infested hospital if the damn fever didn't go down soon. He cupped his hand in the chill water and splashed it in Sam's face, then again and over the top of his head.

"Sammy!" Dean shook him and felt weak with relief when Sam's eyes finally snapped open and focused on him. "Damn." He cupped the sides of his face and made sure Sam was looking at him. "You hearin' me?"

Sam nodded after a moment and closed his eyes. "Shit," He breathed and wrapped his hands around Dean's wrists while he shivered. He opened them again and looked down, eyes widening in confusion and back up at his brother. "Why'm'I still in m'sweats?"

"'Cause I was kinda in a hurry, genius," Dean said and rolled his eyes.

Sam nodded but heard the underlying fear in his voice. His fever must have gone frighteningly high. "I'm ok," He said finally. "I get out of this now?" It was anything but comfortable in a tub of cold water wearing sweatpants.

"Probably." Dean took one hand from his head and grabbed the thermometer, sliding it into his brother's ear. It beeped a moment later and he smiled. "Ok, not frying any brain cells at the moment." He set it aside, only half joking with that comment. Sam had gone damn close to a hundred and five.

Sam did his best to help his brother drag him up out of the water and groaned at the feel of wet sweatpants. "Sucks."

"Hang on. Don't fall back in," Dean admonished with a smirk. He went out to his brother's duffel and dug through, finally settling on a pair of boxer briefs with a sigh. "Really gotta get you another pair of sweats, dude." He grabbed his phone off the toilet seat and set the boxers there. "There you go."

"Thanks." Sam wanted to make some smart-ass comment about being stuck in his boxer briefs but he just didn't have the energy. He figured he was lucky to stay standing long enough to change by the time he opened the bathroom door again and, as if he knew, Dean was already there to steady him over to his bed. It was kind of irritating, normal, and, on a level that settled Sam's frayed nerves…comforting.

Dean dosed him with more Nyquil, got him to drink a bottle of orange juice, and promised him chicken soup later if Sam didn't make him take any more cold baths with him. He took the expected bitch-face with a grin and pulled the blanket back up to his shoulders.

"Thanks for tucking me in, Dean," Sam said and almost managed to keep the smirk off his face.

"I am not tucking you in, asshat," Dean growled in denial and…did just that, tucking the edge of the blanket under him so the idiot wouldn't get cold now his fever was down. "Go to sleep already."

Sam chuckled softly, rolling to hug his pillow again and face Dean's bed without even thinking. He didn't let his eyes close until Dean was stretched out against the headboard; beer in one hand and remote in the other and had looked over to raise his brows, as if saying 'what did I just tell you to do?' Sam smiled, exhausted beyond belief and settled down into the mattress; safe.

Dean snorted. He knew damn well Sam was waiting for him to get settled before falling asleep. The kid needed to know he was there an arm's length away if the nightmares came again and Dean would be, as he always had. He turned the tv up a little louder and reached over to flip off the light. "I've gotcha, Sammy," He said softly and it was a promise. "No more boogeyman. You're safe now."

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The End.

Next Up: murphy9202

STILL waiting to hear from you Linneast! Don't forget to get your prompt to me! :D