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 Nouri - Boys is peril. Regular human peril. The boys get stuck in a hostage situation. Maybe they're in a bank to scout the place for haunting or cursed object or to interview a witness. Sam gets shot, but Dean is all the way accross the room and trying to get to his brother. One of the bad guys try to stop him, Dean gets angry and yells Shoot me if you must but I'm going to my brother. Hero!boys

A/N: Ooh this one's gonna be fun! I don't shoot them very often!

Reviews are love. :D
All chapters of the Reader's Special and Rewards are beta'd by the always awesome JaniceC678.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Dean walked slowly across the tiled floor of the bank toward the wall. He glanced across and easily found Sam's head above all the others on the other side. He looked back to the row of ornate vases on pedestals and sighed. Of course, the cursed vase they were looking for was sold and naturally a bank had to toss it in the lobby. What else would you do with a vase cursed to bring misfortune on anyone who touched it? He rolled his eyes and bent to look closely at the nearest. He knew the design they were looking for. They just had to find it and then figure out how to get it out of the bank. Dean smirked; he'd volunteered to 'accidentally' break the thing and carry out the pieces. Sam had vetoed him, not wanting a hundred pieces of cursed vase floating around.

"You need help?"

Dean looked up and found the bank's security guard standing next to him. "Nope. All good. Just waiting on my brother." He waved a hand out into the bank vaguely. "He's in line. Just checkin' out the, uh… pretty vases."

"Right." The security guard didn't look convinced, but he wandered back to his spot by the door and kept his eyes on the tall man.

"Awesome," Dean groaned. There was no way they were sneaking a vase out with the keystone cop watching his every move. He moved on to the next vase, searching the blue painted designs for the one symbol they were looking for and still found nothing. A low whistle brought Dean's head up and he looked over the heads of the people waiting in line. Sam was on the other side, smiling and waved to him; his brother had found it. Dean started to grin and then saw an older man bump into his brother. Sam's face widened in surprise as he staggered back a step and Dean heard something crash. "Crap." If Sam had touched it…

The doors to the bank suddenly burst open. Four men in black ski masks burst through the door brandishing guns. Dean jerked back a step in surprise. "Oh, you gotta be kidding me!"

"Everybody down!"

Dean watched as the men leveled their weapons at the small crowd. People dove for the floor and Dean saw his brother left standing on his own for just a second before he started to bend but it wasn't fast enough. Gunfire erupted and echoed loudly in the bank. Amid screaming and shouting from the terrified patrons, Dean dove for the floor and watched in horror as his little brother fell gracelessly in a heap. He looked up and saw the security guard take a round in the chest, slam into the wall behind him, and slide to the floor, dead.

"Nobody move! Move and you're dead!"

Dean looked across the wide, marble room for his brother and saw Sam still lying motionless where he'd fallen on his back and fear choked him. The gunmen spread out into the bank with two of them hopping the counters and Dean got to his knees.

"Hey! I told you not to move!" The gunman shouted and aimed his gun at the tall man's head.

Dean snarled up at him. "You shot my brother. I need to check on him. Now."

"Get your ass back on the floor!"

Dean stood angrily, his own safety forgotten in his need to get to Sam. "You wanna shoot me then you SHOOT ME!" Dean bellowed. "But I'm goin' to my brother, you son of a bitch!" he turned his back boldly on the man with the gun and stalked across the bank. He expected to feel hot lead tearing through his back as he stepped over the prone, terrified bodies of the other people. He blew out a breath when it didn't happen. "Sammy," Dean said softly and dropped to his knees beside his clearly bleeding brother. Blood welled fast and hard from a wound in his left shoulder and Sam's eyes were glazed, staring up at the ceiling. Dean palmed the side of his face, rolling Sam's eyes toward him. "Hey, buddy."

Sam swallowed once, hard and focused on his brother. "Dean." He frowned and tried to breathe around the weight lodged in his chest. "Touched… touched it… when it broke."

"Yeah, I got that." Dean pulled Sam's jacket back and shook his head. "Soon as the bullets started flyin'. How you doin'?" he asked as he pulled a bandana out of his pocket and folded it up.

Sam shook his head slowly and swallowed again. "Hurts. Think… think I got sh-shot."

Dean smiled through his own fear and pressed the bandana into the wound, grimacing as Sam whined in pain. "Yeah, buddy. You got a hole in ya', alright. Just breathe, Sammy. Keep breathin', ok?"

Sam nodded once and focused on dragging labored breaths in and out while his brother forced well-meaning pain on him, pressing into the wound in his shoulder. "Dean. Hurt?"

"No, Sammy. I'm good." Dean smiled ruefully. "I didn't touch the thing. Relax." He pressed harder to try and slow the bleeding and looked around. Two gunmen were still behind the counter emptying cash registers and Dean saw the man he'd yelled at walking toward them with his gun trained on Dean. He was fine with that so long as the muzzle of the weapon stayed the hell away from his brother. He watched the man approach and bent over Sam further to try and protect him. "What?"

"You got balls," the man said and waved his gun slightly. "Might still shoot you."

"Well, do it then." Dean glared up at him. "'Cause I ain't leavin' him; and, believe me, you try to make me and that gun ain't gonna stop me killin' your ass. You shot him. That kinda thing pisses me off."

The gunman chuckled. "Yep. Balls." He nodded. "I got a brother. Don't think I'd take a bullet for the little bastard though."

Dean snorted derisively. "Then you ain't much of a big brother. Get the hell away from him."

"Don't tempt me, asshole." The gunman pointed the muzzle of his gun down at Sam. "'Cause I might just start with him."

"Screw you." Dean had had enough. A lifetime of training gave him the speed he needed as he sprang up under the gunman's arm. Dean grabbed the hand with the gun and gave it a vicious twist, freeing it to fall into his own hand. He turned and fired into the thigh of the other gunman still out in the lobby with them. Dean drove his elbow back into the bastard's ribs and smirked when his little brother's long leg lashed out and slammed into his kneecap. The gunman screamed in pain and went to the floor in a rush. Dean stepped away and took aim at the two men behind the counter. They were both standing and staring in surprise and made easy targets. Dean fired once and then twice, taking each man in the shoulder near the neck. They might survive, but if they didn't, he wasn't going to lose a lot of sleep over it. They both fell out of sight, and Dean stalked across the floor to the first man he'd shot. He kicked the gun away from him and stomped on his hand for good measure. "Stay down, asshole."

"Dean."

Sam's soft, pain-filled voice drew him back and Dean slid to his knees again beside his brother. "Hey. Hey, Sammy. Right here. I'm right here." He put his hand back over the bandana and pressed down. Blood was still welling up from underneath, and he didn't like the pasty, almost ghostly look of Sam's skin or the slight blue tinge to his lips. "You still with me, buddy?"

Sam nodded but couldn't find the strength to speak. He looked up at his brother's face and knew, somewhere deep down, that he was screwed. He'd touched the cursed vase. There was little Dean could do for him until the vase was in the curse box. He opened his mouth to try and tell his brother that, but the words wouldn't come, he had so little air to even breathe with.

Dean watched Sam miserably. He knew what he needed to do, but he couldn't imagine how he'd gather up the pieces of the vase and get it outside without someone stopping him. He looked over at it and saw that it had only broken into four, large pieces. That would make it easier, but there was still a room full of crying people between him and the curse box in the Impala's trunk. "Sammy, I gotta get that vase."

The doors to the bank burst open again, but this time it was a foursome of armed policemen who entered the bank. They hadn't taken two steps before the terrified patrons were on them and all babbling out how the robbers had entered, killed the guard, and how one man had taken them all down.

"Hey!" Dean shouted and caught the eyes of one of the cops. "My brother's been shot! We need an ambulance! Now!"

"Holy crap. Hang on!"

Dean watched the man run back outside and turned back to his brother. "I'll get the vase while they're takin' care of you, ok? You just gotta hold on. Hold on, Sammy. Don't you quit on me."

Sam's breaths were increasingly labored, but he nodded for his brother. His vision was starting to dim and he wished he could move, could grab hold of Dean and hold on to him to anchor himself.

"I'm here, Sammy." Dean grabbed Sam's hand with his own and squeezed it tightly. "Focus on me, ok?" He caught Sam's eyes and smiled for him. "You're gonna be fine, dude. I promise." The blood still flowing beneath his other hand did nothing to reassure Dean and he pressed even harder, sure that he would be bruising hell out of his brother's shoulder but not caring.

"Make room! Coming through!"

Dean looked around and saw two paramedics with a gurney come in and he waved them over. "Here! Over here!" He moved reluctantly aside as they reached him. He backed up next to the wall and the broken vase and let them get at his brother. Dean tugged his jacket off and dropped it on the floor over the broken fragments while he watched them cut Sam's blood-soaked jacket and shirts away from his shoulder. "Is he gonna be ok?"

"Sir, you should let us work. We'll get him in the ambulance and you can follow us to Cedars. Alright?"

Dean nodded and knelt down. "Sammy?" his brother's head rolled toward the sound of Dean's voice with a mask over his mouth. "You're gonna be ok, buddy. Just hold on, alright?" Dean watched them slide a board under his brother and helped them lift Sam's heavy body up onto the gurney. He stepped back and forced himself to wait while they wheeled Sam out. While all eyes were on his brother, Dean knelt and hastily gathered up his jacket with the vase's broken pieces safely inside. He tucked it under one arm and jogged after the gurney that was already outside.

"Sir! We need to talk to you!"

Dean glared at the officer who tried to stop him. "That's my brother and I am not standin' around here playin' fifty questions while he's fighting for his life. You want answers, come find me at the hospital." Dean turned his back on the man and strode outside.

The ambulance had parked in front of the Impala and Dean jogged around his car to the trunk. He slid to a stop in shock when he heard someone in the ambulance yell 'Clear!' He turned in time to watch his brother's body arch up under the paddles held by one of the paramedics and thump back to the gurney.

"Oh, God." Dean breathed and ran for the trunk. He tore it open and fumbled the curse box inside open. Dean upended his jacket over the box, letting the broken pieces of the cursed vase fall inside with a clatter. He heard 'Clear!' yelled again and hastily slammed the lid shut. He closed the trunk and looked over the roof. Sam's body arched up painfully again and Dean slowly walked up the side of the Impala toward the ambulance with dread burning a hole in his stomach. Had he been too late?

"Sinus rhythm! Bag him! We got him back!"

Dean's knees went weak and he sagged against the side of the car to hold himself up. "Holy crap, Sammy," he whispered in relief. The ambulance doors banged closed and Dean climbed quickly behind the wheel of the Impala. He gunned the engine and followed them out. He wasn't going to lose them in traffic. He needed to know for himself that Sam was going to be alright.

The drive to the hospital behind the ambulance seemed to take forever. Dean never let them get more than half a car length ahead of him and his eyes bored holes in the back of the ambulance, wishing he could see in and see his brother. He parked in a no parking spot outside the emergency room and was there when they wheeled Sam's gurney off the ambulance.

"Sammy!" Dean ran to his side and grabbed his brother's hand. "How's he doin'?" he asked the paramedics as they walked quickly.

"Well, it was touch and go for a minute but he seems to be gaining strength now." One of the men smiled at Dean. "I think he's gonna be alright."

Dean reluctantly allowed himself to be pushed aside and was forced to stand uselessly by while Sam was wheeled out of sight. It was over two hours before a doctor came and found him and Dean all but pounced the man. "My brother! How is he? Can I see him?"

"Mr. Winchester." The doctor smiled and took his arm. "Your brother is going to be just fine. He lost a lot of blood and we had to surgically remove the bullet, but it went very well and he's just out of recovery. You can see him now if you like."

"Hell, yes. I mean, yeah. Please." Dean managed a smile and followed the doctor back into the emergency room and down a long hall. "So he's really gonna be ok then?"

"The bullet nicked an artery, but we were able to repair it." The doctor waved toward a door. "He'll be a little fuzzy still from the anesthesia, but he really is going to be fine. He's doing very well. I'll check on him again in a little while."

"Thanks, doc." Dean pushed open the door and found his little brother, all six feet four inches of him packed into a bed that he somehow managed to look small in, dressed in a white gown with bandages wrapping his left shoulder and far too many tubes and wires sticking out from under the gown and his arms. "Sammy?"

Sam's head rolled over and he opened his eyes. He frowned and reached his good hand up to poke at the tube running irritatingly under his nose. "Mmf. Dean."

Dean grinned. "Man, how you feelin'?"

Sam looked up at him and smiled. "Like I got shot. But i'ss cool. Gave me…" he held up his arm and waved the tubes leading to the IV stand at his brother. "S'drugs. M'not feelin' any pain."

Dean chuckled and eased a hip onto the side of the bed. He put a hand to the side of Sam's neck and just looked at him, knowing how close he'd come to losing him. "That was close, Sammy. Real close. We're gonna go hole up at Bobby's when you get outta here, ok? No arguments. You need some down time."

Sam nodded and smiled, rolling his head further into his brother's hand as his eyes fell heavily closed. "M'kay."

"God, you're easy like this." Dean laughed and kept his hand there since Sam seemed to want him too. Truthfully, he wanted to keep a hand on him to reassure himself that Sam really was alright. He wouldn't soon forget the image of seeing Sam's body arching uselessly under the paddles in that ambulance. It would haunt him for a good long time. "Get some sleep, kiddo. I'll be right here. Not goin' anywhere." He squeezed the side of Sam's neck and whispered. "And neither are you."

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

The End.

Next Up: firstcatfish