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 SPNxBookworm - a couple months back my english teacher gave us a challenge; 10 completely unrelated words and told us to write a poem, story or anything we liked which included those ten words. Well, how about you attempt the challenge and write a one-shot with those ten words in there? Any season is fine. I'd just like some hurt Sam if possible :) Here are the words: Love, Defeat, Power, Aeroplane, Temple, Ruins, Wind, Needle, God, Moonlight.
A/N: Well, after two days looking at the words and attempting to plot an actual story, I think we're just gonna go 'free-form' on this one and see where it takes me. Lol Set anywhere in season 1. Janice suggested trying to use them all in order but, though I tried, it just stopped me altogether. XD
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
-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-
Dean ducked a wayward tree limb as it snapped back from his brother's passing ahead of him and scowled. "You doin' that on purpose?" he asked angrily, because he wouldn't put it past his pain-in-the-ass little brother to be passively trying to annoy him; that's what little brothers did.
"Doing what on purpose?" Sam looked back and couldn't stop the slow smirk from spreading over his face when he saw the leaves stuck in his brother's hair. He snorted a laugh and danced away a few steps before Dean could get a hold of him. "Sorry. Sorry. I didn't mean to… ok, I did mean the last one, but, honest. Done now."
"Little shit," Dean snarled and stalked ahead of his brother to take the lead.
"Maybe next time you won't put mouthwash in my coffee." Sam grinned and shrugged when Dean sent him a lethal glare. "Not cool, man, screwing with someone's coffee. I'm pretty sure I could make a case for that falling under the aegis of the Geneva Convention as cruel and unusual punishment."
"God, you are such a geek." Dean laughed in spite of himself and sliced through some of the overgrown swamp with his machete. "You sure we're actually in the right place?"
Sam snorted. "I'm a geek, remember? I did the research. It's out here." He looked around at the dark forest and shook his head. "I'm not sure WHY it's out here, but it is."
"You say so, college boy. Friggin' swamp, forest, mess… DAMN, I hate hiking." Dean slapped another long branch out of his way with the machete and ignored Sam's snicker behind him. He pushed through another wall of dense vines and stared when he came out the other side. "Whoa. There's somethin' you don't see every day. What the hell is this?"
Sam emerged from behind his brother and gave a low whistle of appreciation. "It's a temple. Well… the ruins of one."
"Did a bomb go off?" Dean asked as he took in the collapsed walls and vine-choked stones around them. A building built of dark, rough-hewn blocks had once stood tall in the center of the clearing with the mangrove trees towering around it, but most of the structure had collapsed and was busily being reclaimed by the dense swamp around it. "Who even built this mess and how does no one know this is out here?" He kicked a small stone in front of him and watched it fly through the air, ricocheting off the side of the building and into the darkness with a soft splash. "It's Louisiana, not darkest Peru."
Sam paced a few steps ahead of his brother with a chuckle and watched as the wind shifted the greenery back and forth in the moonlight. It layered moving shadows over the stones and the crumbled structure, lending an ominous feel to everything. "Maybe we should come back during the day when we can actually see better, you know?"
Dean considered as he took a step and tripped, stumbling forward a little over a piece of broken masonry. "Yeah, maybe. I suppose this thing ain't gonna have anyone to munch on just yet."
"Except us," Sam said darkly and shrugged when he turned back to see his brother staring at him.
"Why would you say that?" Dean threw his arms out, swinging his pistol toward the trees in exasperation. "That's like tempting fate! May as well say 'what else could go wrong?' you dumbass!"
Sam laughed. "Superstitious much, Dean?"
"Oh, I'm sorry. Have you forgotten what we do?" Dean rolled his eyes and ran a hand over his face. "We're in a swamp, stumblin' around a damn lost temple or some shit with friggin' bells around our necks…" Dean stopped and grabbed the leather thong from under his shirt to jingle the small, silver bell at his still-laughing brother. "… looking for some weird ass African dwarf thing that MIGHT be eating hikers, all because our missing dad sent us damn map coordinates and told us to fix it. What about this confuses you, mister 'I'm not superstitious but I kill evil shit for a living'?"
"Wow." Sam shook his head and grinned. "Did you practice that? 'Cause that was impressive. Seriously." He pulled his laughter under control with effort and raised a hand. "It's called an Eloko, Dean, and the bells are a protection fetish…" Sam had to stop and roll his own eyes at his brother's suddenly wide, naughty grin. "Not that kind of fetish, you freak."
"Shuddup." Dean kicked another stone and leaned to look into a small, standing pool of water. The moon was reflected in its still surface, and Dean frowned as a shadow crossed over it for just a moment. He looked up and turned his eyes toward his brother. "You see that?"
"See what?" Sam took a few cautious steps toward the ruin and staggered to a stop as the ground beneath him groaned. "Uh… Dean?" He turned his head back to look over his shoulder at his brother with wide eyes.
Instantly aware that something was something was seriously wrong, Dean immediately felt his focus slide into full hunter mode, all snarky banter forgotten in an instant. "What? Sammy, what?" Dean took three long strides toward him and stopped when Sam threw up a hand to warn him off.
"This area's prone to sinkholes." Sam looked down at the ground and swallowed hard. "It's moving. I…"
"Get the hell out of there!" Dean shouted. Sam spun toward him and stretched an arm. Dean reached for him in a rush and felt his little brother's fingers slide across his own before the ground beneath him caved in with a rumble and went away. Sam fell out of his sight with a cry, and Dean was left grasping at air. "SAM!" He dropped to his knees and had to scramble back a few steps as the edge of the widening hole began to give way. "Shit. Shit!" Dean's back bumped into the base of the crumbled ruin, and he wasted no time climbing several feet of the sloping side, cursing as some of the blocks turned and shifted under his hands. He stopped and leaned back against the ruin to look down into the sinkhole with a feeling of dread.
The sky was still clear and the moon shone down into the clearing, cutting through the inky blackness below. Dean narrowed his eyes as he eased down a few feet and swallowed hard when he realized he could see Sam's outstretched and motionless arm in the silvery light. "Sammy!" Dean moved carefully down to the edge of the sinkhole. The sound of dirt and rocks tumbling filled the night air as Dean eased over the edge to start a slow, controlled slide to the bottom. It was fifteen feet deep at least, and he was grateful that, for the moment, it didn't appear to be getting any bigger.
"Sammy?" Dean slipped the last few feet into the darkness and grunted, bending at the knees when his feet reached the bottom in a sudden stop. He dropped to his knees and crawled the few feet to his little brother's arm and took hold of it with fear a cold, hard lump in his throat. He slid his hand up Sam's arm to his shoulder and let his fingers press into the chilled flesh above his collar, below his jaw. Dean's breath punched out of him in a groan of relief when he felt the steady thrum under his fingertips.
"Shit, Sam." Dean settled on his knees and, after spending a few more seconds feeling Sam's heart beating, he started the process of feeling along his brother's arms and legs for any obvious signs of injury. Finding nothing, Dean moved on and slid a hand under Sam's shirt, pressing knowledgeable fingers up and down both sides of his back and smiled when he found no signs of broken ribs. "Ok. That's good. Doin' good, Sammy. Now, how about you wake up and we can turn you over, huh? Sam?" Dean bent down near his brother's face and tapped Sam's cheek lightly. He desperately needed Sam to wake up and speak. Dean wouldn't feel better about it until he knew for sure his little brother was alright.
"Come on, little brother. Wakey-wakey." Dean tapped Sam's cheek a little harder and was just debating the merits of rolling him over when Sam's eyes finally crinkled and a soft moan worked its way up out of his mouth as it parted slightly. "Sammy? That's it. Come on. Open your eyes."
Sam swam slowly up out of the fog that had been holding on to him with the sound of his brother's voice. He was tempted to ignore it and slide back into sleep, but there was that particular thread of fear in Dean's voice that Sam only heard when his big brother was scared for him. He cracked heavy eyes open and realized he was lying on his stomach on the ground with Dean leaned over far enough that Sam could just make out the gleam of his eyes in the moonlight. "Dean?"
"The one and only." Dean smiled and felt the muscles in his shoulders slowly start to unclench now that Sam was awake. "You feel alright? Think you can roll over if I help?"
Sam scowled and took a moment to try and feel his body. Up until that moment, he'd still been half in that foggy, not-quite-aware place. Now that he was paying attention, he pulled his right arm in to push himself up, and the movement sent a stab of vicious, white-hot pain through him. "Shit!"
"Sammy?" Dean slid a hand under his shoulder and held on while his brother gasped and panted. "Dude, what is it? Where are you hurt? Sam, where?"
"Help," Sam gasped softly. "Help me… roll over."
"Dude, no. Not until…"
"Dean." Sam put every ounce of pleading he could into that word and hoped his brother would understand through it that being on his stomach now was making it hurt worse and that breathing was becoming a problem.
"Damn. Alright. Ok. Here we go." Dean hated the idea of moving him without knowing exactly what was injured, but Sam didn't need sentences to tell him that getting off his stomach was important. The desperation in that one word said it all. He smiled softly as he slid his hands under his brother's shoulder and hip. Sam had never really needed sentences to get much of anything across to him. The kid could look at him and show more love and faith in a glance than those crusty old English poets could communicate in a thousand verses. "Here we go, princess. Deep breath if you can."
Sam gave a short nod, sucked in a ragged breath and then focused on not screaming like the girl Dean often accused him of being as his brother rolled him slowly up and then stopped with Sam propped on his side.
"Shit." Dean stared down at the dark mess on the front of his brother's shirt and was actually thankful the moonlight made it look black instead of the red ruin he knew it had to be. "Ok. You're, uh… you're fine. It's gonna be fine. Hang on." Dean continued shifting his brother until he had him on his back and then grabbed hold of the hand Sam raised, squeezing tightly to give his brother something to anchor himself with. "Breathe, Sammy. Come on. Slow it down."
"Hurts," Sam gasped and slammed his eyes closed as he worked to do what Dean was telling him - slow his breathing from the frantic too-short pulls of air he was getting through the pain.
"I know. Slower, Sam. Come on. Slower," Dean said and tried to keep his voice calm. He fumbled in his pocket for his flashlight and pulled it out, almost afraid to click it on and see just how bad the damage really was, as if, as long as he didn't see it, it wouldn't be anything to worry about. He shook his head at himself and turned it on as he aimed the beam onto his brother's chest. "Jesus," he breathed and then clamped his jaw shut in the hopes that Sam hadn't heard him. "Gimme my hand back for a minute, Sam?" he asked and tried to use a light, teasing voice and knew he didn't quite pull it off.
Sam nodded once roughly and made himself loosen his grip. "Sorry."
"Shuddup," Dean replied gruffly and used his now free hand to ease Sam's shirts up his chest. The wound, when he saw it, was a roughly shaped, jagged hole just below his ribs on the right side. He frowned and aimed the light where Sam had been lying and blew out a breath when he saw the rock. It was roughly the size of his fist, pointed and had clearly jammed up into his brother when he'd landed.
"How… how bad?" Sam asked softly and tried to lift his head for a look even though it was pounding at him with even the slightest movement.
"Nothin' to worry about," Dean said quickly with a smile and worked his pack off his shoulders to set it beside him. "Just a scratch. Have you outta here in no time."
"Liar," Sam said with a weary attempt at a smile and let his eyes close again.
"Yeah. Yeah." Dean dug out the first aid kit and pulled it open, rifling through it for antiseptic and bandages. He frowned when he felt his shirt tugged and looked down to find his brother's fingers curled in a white-knuckled grip in the bottom of his t-shirt. Any other time and Dean would have teased and called him out on it, but he still wasn't quite beyond the nightmare of seeing Sam fall into that dark pit. He'd be seeing his brother's terrified eyes in his dreams for a while to come. Dean gave a soft, fond chuckle and ducked his head so his brother wouldn't see.
Sam turned his aching head slowly, rolling it over the rough ground to look at the sinkhole around him. He hissed when he felt the first burn of antiseptic being poured in his wound and ground his teeth together to ignore it in favor of studying where he'd landed - anything to take his mind off the well-meaning torture his brother was performing. He bit his lip through the wound being cleaned, and then narrowed blurry eyes toward the wall of the pit beneath the temple. "Z'at a door?"
"Huh?" Dean looked over at his brother's pale face in confusion and then followed his brother's gaze to his other side. He picked up the flashlight and aimed it at the wall and his eyes widened. "Whoa." A rough stone door stood in the wall. Roots poked out from the earth around it, and Dean looked at their sinkhole with new eyes. "Guess that explains why the ground gave way. There was a room down here and your sasquatch ass was too heavy for the ceiling."
"Funny." Sam managed to glare at his brother even through his screaming headache. He brought his free hand up to his head and grimaced when he felt the sizeable lump on his forehead. No wonder my head hurts."
"Yeah; you got knocked around but good. Hold still." Dean used butterfly strips to close the hole in Sam's skin until they could get back to the motel. He wasn't about to attempt stitching it up in that mess. He taped a bandage over the wound, thankful the bleeding seemed to have stopped and tugged the ruin of Sam's shirt back down with a grimace for the blood-stiffened cotton. "That'll have to do for now. How's the pain?"
Sam groaned. "Like I got… donkey kicked by an elephant." He smiled ruefully to set his big brother at ease. "So, not bad."
"Right," Dean snorted and rolled his eyes. "Gonna try and sit you up, ok? Let me do the work."
Sam wanted to argue and do it himself, but between what was probably a concussion and the hole in his gut, he kept his mouth shut, clenched his jaw and let Dean do it. He flushed a little with humiliation when his brother reached down and uncurled Sam's fingers from his shirt. Sam hadn't even realized he'd been holding on to the damn thing like a security blanket.
"Alright, ya' big girl. Stop blushing. Don't think you've got enough blood left in you to spare right now." Dean chuckled softly and took Sam's arms. He pulled him carefully up so he was sitting and stopped him from tipping over sideways when he swayed. "Hey, you still with me?"
Sam blew out a couple steadying breaths and nodded as he forced his eyes back open. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm good." It was taking a supreme effort of will to push back the agony of his wound, and he promised himself he could curl up in a ball and whimper later. For now, they were in a swamp in a sinkhole with a lethal creature potentially somewhere nearby, and injuries would have to wait. "We should check that door. Get me up."
"Dude. Come on." Dean shook his head, but Sam was already trying to pull his legs under and Dean scowled. "Stubborn pain in my ass, Sammy. You know that?"
Sam managed a credible nod and took hold of his brother's forearms as Dean stood and pulled him up with him. "Crap," Sam moaned when the ground seemed to tilt beneath him, and he wasn't sure how many minutes had passed by the time he got his eyes open again and realized he was standing with his forehead planted on Dean's collarbone. "Sorry."
"I got nowhere to be," Dean said with a worried smile and eased Sam back a step when he seemed to find his balance. "You good?" Sam gave him a nod and Dean decided to trust him for now. He knelt, grabbed the flashlight and started shoving the first aid supplies back in the bag. The light glinted off the dial of their compass and Dean scowled, pulling it out. "Huh. Check that out. The compass needle's spinning like a damn top. What the hell?"
Sam took the gold compass Dean handed up to him. It had been their father's once upon a time, a remnant of his days in the marines that he'd gifted to Dean. Sam held it up in a shaft of moonlight and his brows rose. "Must be some sort of magnetic anomaly nearby." He took a few halting steps toward the door and the needle began to spin more wildly. "It's the door."
"That does NOT fill me with confidence. We need to let this go for tonight." Dean pulled his bag over his shoulder and took his brother's arm when he stood. "I'm gonna climb back up and see if I can find something to get you…"
"We need to check this out." Sam cut him off easily and pointed to the door.
"No, we don't. Not tonight." Dean glared at him. "You've been skewered by a rock, dude. And bashed in the head. We're going back to the motel. We'll come back in a day or two."
Sam shook his head. "It's killing people, Dean. What if it kills again? We can't. I'll be fine." He gave his brother a pleading look and knew he'd win. "Dean, please."
Dean crumpled in the face of his brother's well-used weapon - the dreaded puppy dog eyes of doom. Dean had no defense for them and never had. "Dammit, Sammy." He rolled his eyes and aimed his light at the door. "Fine. But if Grumpy the angry dwarf shows up, you stay behind me. You hear me?"
Sam smirked and nodded, planning on doing no such thing if his brother was in danger. "Promise."
"Pain in my ass," Dean grumbled and helped his brother walk over the uneven ground to the door. "You just gotta be Indiana friggin' Jones with a gut wound."
"I'm fine, Dean." Sam chuckled and then put his attention on the door, handing the compass back to his brother. He ran his fingers over carvings on the face of the stone door lightly. "These look like some of the symbols I found online. African something or other."
"What? You can't read it, geek boy?" Dean smiled and made his own observation of the door. "Wonder how it opens." He pushed and poked at the edge of the door where it met hard earth and then grinned when he felt one of the symbols give slightly under his fingers. "Got it. Move back."
"Dean…"
"Get the hell back in case I'm wrong and it, like, shoots poison darts or something!" Dean gave Sam a gentle push.
Sam chuckled. "You have watched Raiders of the Lost Ark too many times."
"No such damn thing as too many times." Dean smiled, pushed on the block and then backed hastily up to his brother as the door gave a sudden groan and started to shift back into the wall and then to the side. "Crap. Back up!" Dean took Sam's arm and pulled him farther away as earth began to shower down from above and a few bricks from the edge of the temple crumbled from the structure and rolled down into the sinkhole with a clatter. He moved them out of harm's way and kept a firm grip on Sam's arm until the door was open and the debris had stopped falling.
Sam looked over at his brother's slightly disappointed face and shook his head. "You were hoping there'd be poison darts, weren't you?"
"Come on, Indiana," Dean said instead, refusing to rise to the bait. He aimed his flashlight ahead of them and walked slow enough that Sam could stay safely just behind him. "Suppose this is where the thing's been hiding out, under the ruin above."
"Would make sense." Sam ducked along with his brother as they passed through the door and he looked up in surprise to find the roof of the passage beyond was almost tall enough for him to stand straight. "Huh."
"Built by gigantors," Dean said with a laugh but kept his eyes ahead. Their voices echoed down the passage and back to them softly.
Sam looked up and knew the weight of the old temple was above them and couldn't help a little shiver. "Not sure I like being under that thing, knowing the ground could subside at any moment."
"Well, you're just a bundle of comfort." Dean flicked his own eyes up and tried not to think about it. "Passage turns up here." He rounded the corner with his gun out, no longer taking any chances, and stared in surprise. "Holy crap! We are in an Indiana Jones movie."
"What? What is it?" Sam moved up to look and followed the beam of Dean's flashlight. Three, long spikes crossed the hall a few feet away and a skeleton draped in tattered, decaying clothing was pierced between the spikes and the stones.
Dean jumped when he felt a sharp pinch in the back of his arm and rounded on his little brother. "What the hell, dude?"
Sam gave a soft laugh. "Sorry. Just making sure. You know… awake?"
"Next time pinch your own damn arm, you freak. Jesus." Dean sighed and turned back to the skeleton. He moved cautiously down the hall to the spikes and looked at the body. "Well, this guy's good news."
"How?" Sam asked and leaned on the wall to give himself a rest. The blood loss was quickly catching up to him along with the pain.
"Means we can be pretty damn sure there's another way out of here." Dean smiled and knelt. He poked at a pile of frayed linen and brittle leather on the floor that looked like it had once been a bag of some sort. He picked it open carefully and quirked a brow, pulling out a small black, leather bound book. "What have we here?" Dean handed it up to his brother and turned his attention to the spikes. They wouldn't get any further if he couldn't figure out a way to move them.
Sam took a penlight out of his pocket and flicked it on, gently opened the little book and smiled, amused. "Dude, it's a journal. A Hunter's journal, it looks like, judging by the devil's trap sketched inside the front cover." He flipped a few pages and frowned. "Well, hell. It's in French. This is gonna take me a minute."
Dean chuckled and took hold of the spikes, giving them a push toward the opposite wall. "Didn't learn frog-talk at that fancy college of yours? Hey!" He snarled when Sam's hand slapped into the back of his head.
"Shuddup." Sam snorted and narrowed his eyes to make sense of the French as he turned to the back of the book and did his best to translate. "Geez, this guy's handwriting was awful. It's worse than yours."
"My handwriting…" Dean grunted as he managed to shift the spikes a few inches. "… is awesome, bitch."
Sam snorted a laugh and braced his free hand over his wound while he stifled the groan. He didn't need Dean hovering over him. He brought the light back up to look at the book and concentrated. "I think the Eloka's been here a lot longer than we thought. I think this guy was hunting it. Wow, this is old," he said, looking at the blurred date at the top of one of the entries. "Nineteen something. Twenty or twenty-one maybe." Sam broke off with a chuckle. "He says 'the aeroplane is a devilish invention, and I may swim home to my beloved France.'"
"Damn straight." Dean grinned. "Man after my own… move you bitch… heart. Ha!" Dean grinned in triumph as the spikes finally moved and slid back into the wall. The skeleton slid to the floor in an almost graceful crumble of bones and he looked sadly at them for just a moment - a fellow Hunter who had died alone and forgotten.
"And you tease me about clowns. At least they're creepy."
"Dude. Clowns." Dean smirked and stood next to his brother. "Planes are way scarier. What else does he say?"
Sam shook his head. "Not a lot. Most of this is just research about the Eloka, mentions of looking for this place, and then it ends after he writes that he found it." He closed the journal and tucked it into his jacket. "Poor guy."
"Keep that." Dean turned and looked at the remains again. "We'll come back and give him a proper funeral later."
Sam smiled softly and nodded, agreeing with his brother that the dead man deserved a Hunter's funeral. "So, watch out for traps then."
"No shit." Dean took his gun back out and aimed his flashlight at Sam again, not liking the pallor of his face or the sweat that seemed to have broken out across his face. Sam's dark hair was stuck to his forehead and didn't bode well for getting the wound properly clean later. "How are you feeling?" He took the hem of Sam's shirt and knocked his brother's hand away when he tried to stop him. "Lemme look."
Sam sighed and resigned himself to being mother-henned. "It's fine. I mean, it hurts like hell, but I'm good. I can do this."
Dean was relieved to see his bandage seemed to be holding. It was stained red with Sam's blood, but it wasn't so saturated that it was leaking. They'd call it a win. "Alright, come on. Remember, you stay behind me."
"Yes, mom." Sam smiled and took his own gun out. "Can we go now?" He pushed himself up from the wall and waited for Dean to take the lead. He'd hoped the rest would have given him some energy back, but he still felt completely wiped out. Blood loss was a pain in the ass and he knew he didn't have a whole lot of time left in him.
Dean moved cautiously down the passage, playing the light along the floor, walls, and ceiling in an effort to not miss another trap and end up like their French friend. The passage turned again, shorter this time, and ended in another stone door that was shoved half open and wedged in place with a shard of rock. "Saves me some elbow grease. Thanks, Pierre."
"Pierre? That's what you're gonna go with?" Sam chuckled.
"Until you go through that book and figure out his actual name." Dean smirked and shone the light through the open door. It was a large room, and his light just barely reached the other side. He heard something move in the darkness and tensed. "Head's up, Sammy," he whispered and eased through the door.
Sam took his own gun out, relieved to find it still at his back, and pushed away the fatigue threatening to take him down. He moved in behind his brother and wished he had a bigger light than the penlight. It didn't do much to cut the darkness. The air was stale with age and there was the bitter tang of something decomposing hanging through it. The back of Sam's throat tickled with the odor, and he fought the urge to cough. Dean moved stealthily ahead of him, sweeping the light back and forth through the room. Sam heard something move inside the chamber, but he couldn't tell where. The sound echoed and carried making it impossible to pinpoint a location.
Dean ground his teeth with frustration. It was making his skin itch that he could hear the damn thing moving around but couldn't seem to find it. He glanced over his shoulder and found Sam several feet back, the penlight in his little brother's hand gave him just enough light to see the lines of pain in his face, and he wished that he'd argued harder to make Sam leave and come back when he wasn't the walking damn wounded. Dean turned back to the chamber as there was another flurry of muffled sound and knew it was too late for that. He swung the beam of his light to his left and jolted in surprise at the sudden movement caught in the beam. "Crap!" He grunted as something roughly half his height flew into him and slammed into his chest, knocking him back.
"Dean!" Sam watched his brother fall to the ground as the light swung wildly. Adrenaline flooded his system as Dean's gun fired three times, and Sam tried to find something to shoot at without hitting his brother. "Dean?" He shouted in surprise and pain when something solid thumped into his stomach and threw him to the ground. The pain was instant and choked him as Sam fell and rolled across the stone floor. He gasped for breath and somehow managed to raise his gun and fire into the dark shape that loomed above him.
Dean jerked his head up with the sound of a gun and a strange, deep cry reverberating through the chamber. He shook off the dizziness and got to his knees. "Sammy?"
"Yeah," Sam managed between gasps and curled around his stomach with a hand pressed to his wound. "You… you ok?"
"Holy crap. Yeah." Dean rubbed a hand over the back of his head and felt a little blood but not enough to scare him. He grabbed his fallen light and aimed it toward the sound of his brother's voice. "Where'd it go?"
Sam shook his head, still trying to calm his frantic breathing. "Dunno." He coughed and moaned with his abused stomach and chest tightening painfully at the motion. "Shot it… I think."
The broken sound of Sam's voice wasn't helping Dean's panic level any and he got unsteadily to his feet. "Take a breath, dude," he said softly as he walked over to his brother and knelt down beside him. "Sam."
"Ok. I'm ok. Find it." Sam waved his brother off.
"Dammit. Stay sharp." Dean stood again and stayed in front of his brother as he swept the light around and searched for the Eloka again. "Come on out, ugly. Got some more bullets with your name on 'em." Dean heard another scuffle echo in the chamber and took a step away from his brother, trying to pinpoint where it was coming from.
"Dean. Be careful," Sam warned in a voice gone hoarse with pain. He groaned softly and pressed harder over his wound. He could feel that it was bleeding again and didn't want to distract his brother with the worry.
"We're not gettin' wasted by a reject from the seven dwarfs, dammit," Dean growled and paced another step away. "Come on, you bastard." He heard a rock clatter to his right and Dean resisted the urge to look. Every nerve in his body screamed at him that it was a distraction, and, sure enough, a second later, the Eloka rushed him from the left. Dean turned and fired two rounds into its body before it grappled with him again. "Hairy little… ugly… Jesus, you stink!" Dean shouted and rolled, managing to come out on top for a moment. The Eloka was a misshapen looking man. His wiry hair covered most of his face and body and glistened with mud and dirt as they rolled back and forth through the beam of Dean's fallen flashlight. He slammed his fist into the creature's nose and shouted in anger when he was toppled to his back again. Dean slammed his knee up into the Eloka and sent it rolling away in a howl of flying limbs.
"How do I gank this thing?" Dean yelled as he rolled to his feet quickly. "'Cause bullets ain't doin' crap!"
"Uh…" Sam forced his scattering thoughts to focus with effort and pulled the text he'd read up in his mind. "To… uh, to defeat the Eloka, you must find… find and crush the source of its power. The source of its…" Sam opened his eyes and watched the creature circle his brother. The dwarf passed through the beam of the flashlight and Sam saw a small, silver bell glint on its chest amidst the gnarled hair. "The bell! Crush the damn bell and then you can kill it!"
"Ok, Tinkerbell. Let's dance." Dean grinned and took the offensive. He lunged at the Eloka with his eyes on its chest. He drove his right fist with his gun into its face and, with his left, grabbed a handful of hair and the bell from its chest and tore it free. He danced back while the beast screamed. Dean went to his knees, set the bell in the beam of his flashlight and brought the butt of his gun down on it once and then again until it bent and then cracked. It fell apart in pieces and the creature screamed its rage. Dean swung the pistol up and fired four rounds into the Eloka's chest before it could reach him. The dwarf howled and dropped to the dirt where it writhed for a moment and then went still.
Sam slumped into the ground in relief with the creature dead. "Took… took you long enough."
Dean snorted and checked to make sure the Eloka was dead before he grabbed his flashlight and went to his brother. "Little bastard was a pain in the ass. Speaking of pains in my ass." He knelt next to Sam and took his brother's hand, moving it off his stomach so he could get a look at the wound. "How you doin'?"
"Starting to like it here." Sam gritted his teeth while Dean peeled the bandage back. "Some curtains… mood… mood lighting… crap."
Dean smiled thinly and taped the bandage back down. "Geek," he said with a soft laugh. "You stand?" Sam gave him a nod and Dean took hold of his arm. "Ok, take a breath or somethin' and don't puke on me."
"We know… where we're going?" Sam moaned out a pained breath as Dean pulled him to his feet and swayed dangerously as his knees tried to buckle.
"Easy. Take it easy." Dean held on to him and waited for him to steady and then pulled one of Sam's long arms over his shoulders. "Spotted a door on the other side while I was lookin' for Short Round over there." He propped Sam's head up in his hand and took a good look at him, not liking what he saw. "You good for this?"
"Yeah." Sam gave a weak laugh and shook his head once Dean let it go and they started moving. "Just gonna… keep up with the Indiana Jones cracks, huh?"
"Dude. We're in a friggin' temple. With booby-traps." Dean snorted. He hitched Sam's arm a little higher and hoped they wouldn't have more traps to worry about on the way out. He grinned when the new passage led immediately to a flight of rough, stone steps leading up. There was barely room enough for them to go up side by side, but they managed with Dean refusing to let Sam try it on his own. His little brother was barely staying on his feet as it was.
They emerged finally back into the night air from a hole in the ground covered over with thick bushes and tucked beside the bole of a massive tree. Sam took a deep breath of the open air and sagged in relief. "Motel," he said and fixed his brother with a glare. "Don't need a hospital."
"Uh huh." Dean kept them moving, turning unerringly in the direction of the road where they had parked and the Impala. Where he took his little brother once they reached the car was going to depend on what condition he was in when they got there.
"Mean it, Dean." Sam worked to take more of his weight on his own legs. "S'just a little blood loss. No big deal."
"Stop whinin' and walk, princess." Dean smirked at him.
"M'fine."
"Right."
Sam shook his head and concentrated on keeping his legs moving one after the other through the dense swamp. Somehow he was going to find the energy to make the hour long walk back to the car. He closed his eyes, trusting Dean to steer him and tried to catch his breath.
-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-
Sam opened his eyes again and jolted in confusion. Rather than the swamp he had been expecting, he was lying comfortably in a bed, propped up on pillows and staring at a blank, white ceiling. "Dean?"
"'Bout time you woke up." Dean grinned and stood from his chair to sit on the edge of his brother's bed.
"Hospital?" Sam asked and turned a weak glare at his brother.
"Well, since you weren't awake, and, oh yeah, wouldn't wake up to argue with me and tell me how fine you were, here we are." Dean fixed him with a stern look to convey that he had in fact carried Sam out of that damn swamp and brought him to the hospital in fear for his life.
"Oh."
"Yeah. Oh." Dean ran a hand back through his hair and grabbed the cup of water from the table when he saw Sam swallowing repeatedly. He handed it to him and studied his brother's pale face. "You lost a lot of blood, dude, and you've got some internal stitches too."
Sam's brows flew up as he lowered the cup now that his throat was no longer parched. "How long have I been here?"
"It's the next day." Dean shrugged and slapped Sam's hand away when he went to poke at his stomach. "Leave it alone. Assuming you can actually stand up later, I'll bust you outta here." He snorted a laugh. "I ain't carrying your heavy ass again."
Sam chuckled and knew that was a lie. "I can stand now." He started to toss the blanket back and rolled his eyes when Dean slapped his hands away.
"Knock it off." Dean stood again and dropped back into the chair. He put his feet up on the side of Sam's bed and leaned back with a weary sigh, then stretched an arm out and pointed a finger to Sam's left. "You're not going anywhere until that's empty."
Sam turned his head to look at the half full bag of something clear suspended beside his bed and the line running into his arm. "Fluids?"
"And antibiotics and something else." Dean shrugged. "Wasn't payin' attention." Which, of course, was a flat lie. He'd paid very close attention to everything, every word from the harried doctor's mouth and every caution that his little brother needed to not be moved for another day.
Sam looked back at him and saw the lines of stress around his brother's eyes and the dark shadows under them. He blew out a breath and settled back into the bed. "That bad, huh?"
"You stopped breathin'," Dean said softly and then gently kicked his brother's knee with his boot. "Don't do that again. You're gonna give me grey hairs before I'm thirty, and I'm way too pretty for that shit."
Sam chuckled and nodded. "Sorry?"
"Damn right." Dean smiled and let the tension of the last day ease out of him now that Sam was awake and able to roll his eyes at him again. "Go back to sleep or somethin', Indiana." He closed his eyes and leaned his head back on the chair, planning on taking his own advice. He'd turned off his cell phone and Sam's as well, preventing their father from sending them more coordinates and setting his brother off on another mission. He was going to make sure they didn't do a damn thing until Sam was healed, whether his stubborn little brother liked it or not.
-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-
The End.
Next Up: BruisedBloodyBroken