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 firstcatfish - While laid up in the bunker with an injury (your choice), Sam decides to inventory the collection of cursed objects the MoLs have collected over the years. An accident leads to a broken box and Sam touching the object. When he tries to talk, he finds that the words in his sentences are scrambled. They sound right in his head, but they are all mixed up to anyone listening. Of course Dean can't resist laughing at him. Together, Dean and Sam must find a way to recapture the cursed item and fix Sam's speach. Humorous moments with perhaps a touch of hurt/comfort just for fun.

A/N: You said 'recapture' and my little brain said oooooooh. What if they actually DID have to recapture the damn thing? So this happened. LOL Enjoy!

** This chapter is unbeta'd. All mistakes are my own. :D

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

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Sam pulled another box off the shelf and set it on the floor. The Men of Letters had amassed quite the collection of cursed objects over the years. The storeroom Sam found had been protected with every sigil he knew and some he didn't. The shelves inside were lined with curse boxes of all shapes and sizes and the filing system for them was half destroyed with age thanks to an enterprising family of rats that Sam had ousted and rehomed outside the bunker before his brother saw them.

He pulled over the book he'd found in the library and flipped it to the next page. It was a log of all the collected objects and Sam was determined to catalogue them all and find out what was still there and what might be out in the world again. "This guy had horrible handwriting," he muttered as he squinted to decipher the small, tight script on the page. Sam bent and checked the tag on the curse box, having to wipe dust away in order to read it. "There has to be a better way to do this." He stood and looked up the shelves that rose a foot above his head to the ceiling. "Suppose I could make a database."

"You talkin' to yourself again?" Dean asked as he stepped into the room and took in his brother, spotted with dust and surrounded by curse boxes and books from the library. "What are you doing?"

"Inventory." Sam shrugged and picked up the inventory ledger from the floor. "Figured it'd be a good idea to know what's actually in here and what's not. Might be some useful stuff here or some dangerous stuff out there."

Dean snorted. "You find anything labeled 'rabbit's foot' you leave it the hell alone."

Sam chuckled and nodded. The last rabbit's foot they'd dealt with had very nearly killed him. "Trust me. I find one of those, we're burning it."

"Well don't take all day. I'll have food up in an hour." Dean swatted his brother's shoulder with a grin. "Might even make you some rabbit food."

"Go and play in the kitchen please?" Sam said with a smile and looked back at the boxes. "Stop distracting me."

"Geek."

"Whatever." Sam chuckled as Dean left and he checked the ledger again. He sighed and shook his head. "You'd think the Men of Letters would have had better bookkeeping skills." He leaned up toward the top shelf, having to stretch even at his height and curled his fingers around a smaller box. "Come on, you little…" Sam pulled and the box seemed to pop off the shelf. "Crap!" He fumbled to catch it as it fell, spinning and banged a knee into the shelves as he finally wrapped both hands around it. He turned and could only watch as the box he'd hit with his knee slid backwards off the shelf. "No, no, no!" He reached for it but was too slow and the box fell, slamming into the floor behind the shelves.

"Awesome," Sam groaned. He set the small box back on the shelf and walked around to the other side. It lay on its end, long and black with sigils scribed in white paint on its side. Sam knelt to pick it up. He took hold of the box and lifted and fell back on his heels when the side crumbled to the floor. "Shit!" Something gold and shining rolled from the box and Sam instinctively tried to catch it. He put his hand out and felt warm metal slide over his skin. He tried to curl his fingers around the elongated object and it burst into motion.

"Shit. Shit!" Sam drew his hand quickly back but not before something raked across his palm and drew blood. He scrambled away as the object clanged into the floor and watched. It moved as though alive. Golden wings sprouted from its sides and Sam stared in surprise as it took the air. "What the hell?"

Sam ducked when the metal creature dove for his head. He shouted as sharp, metal talons tore down the side of his neck and swung at the thing. He missed and gained his feet. "Come here you little… crap!" He yanked his hand away when it snapped metal teeth at him and flew out the door. "Oh hell. Dean!" Sam ducked out the door and saw a glimpse of the thing before it fluttered out of sight around a corner.

"Dean!" Sam ran down the hall, up the stairs and into the kitchen. "We have a problem."

"What?" Dean turned to look at his brother and frowned in confusion.

"I may have accidentally opened one of the curse boxes." Sam gestured to his bleeding wounds and shook his wounded hand out, spraying drops of blood on the floor. "Something got out and… and took off. It sprouted teeth and wings and flew away, man. I swear."

"Sammy?" Dean took in his brother's bleeding wounds and his confusion deepened. "You wanna try speakin' English, dude? What the hell are you saying?"

"What?" Sam stared. "What do you mean what am I… something got out of a curse box and it's flying around the bunker! Come on!"

"Sam!" Dean grabbed his brother's arm and stared hard at him. "You're talkin' gibberish. What the hell happened to you?"

"What do you mean I'm talking… Dean, knock it off." Sam watched the ever-deepening lines of confusion on his brother's face and felt panic start. "I'm speaking English, Dean. Tell me you can understand me."

"Sammy, knock it off. You're startin' to freak me out." Dean took his brother's hand and turned it over, looking at the bleeding gash in his palm. He put a hand to Sam's throat and the three bleeding wounds there, not liking that the blood was staining the neck and shoulder of his shirt red. "Ok, we need to take care of these and you need to start makin' sense."

"I am making sense!" Sam waved his free arm and pulled his hand back from his brother. "You're the one that's not making any sense!"

"Alright, what the hell is goin' on?" Dean grabbed Sam's elbow and pulled him from the kitchen. He looked back at him as he led his brother out to the library. "You realize every word you're sayin' is nonsense, right? I mean you're not makin' a lick of sense, Sammy. You're just stringing words and pieces of words together that don't go together!"

Sam's mouth opened in shock. "But… everything I say is making perfect sense to me!" He looked at Dean and saw only confusion on his face. "What's going on?"

"You were in the curse box room. Did you touch something?" Dean asked and frowned when Sam babbled more nonsense and nodded furiously. "Ok, calm down. So you touched something. We just need to figure out what. Sit." He pushed Sam down into a chair at one of the tables and went to get the first aid kit.

"Dammit." Sam reached across the table and grabbed his legal pad and a pen as Dean came back. He quickly wrote 'cursed object loose' and held it up to Dean. "See?"

Dean looked at the paper, set the first aid kit on the table and worked very hard not to laugh outright. "Uh, Sammy. It says…" he stopped and scrubbed a hand over his face to try and stop the smirk. "It says 'barmy love noodles', dude." Sam's face turned into such an image of frustration that Dean burst out laughing in spite of himself. "Oh, man. Your face."

Sam jerked the legal pad back and looked at it. It really did say 'barmy love noodles' and he gave a loud sigh of disgust. "Great. I have no way to communicate." A frisson of fear worked through his gut as he tossed the legal pad to the table. "You can't understand a word I say, can you?"

Dean watched his brother and the fear moving across his face and it quickly killed the humor for him. "We'll figure this out." He opened the first aid kit and took out some gauze and the antiseptic. "Now sit still and gimme that hand."

Sam held his hand out wordlessly, flinching only slightly as Dean poured antiseptic over the cut. He was far too busy swallowing around the lump of fear in his throat; the sudden uncertainty in his gut that any of this was even happening.

Dean wrapped a bandage around Sam's right hand and tied it off. He wet some gauze with antiseptic for his brother's neck and looked up. The look on Sam's face stopped him cold. "Sammy?" It was fear and as he watched, Sam took his left hand in his right and started digging his thumb into his palm in a gesture he hadn't seen in over two years and hoped never to again. Dean grabbed hold of his hands and pried them apart.

"Sam! Look at me." Dean watched Sam try to fight him and shook his head. "No, no, no. Sammy, no. Dude, look at me!" The sharp tone of voice worked and his brother's fear-filled eyes snapped to his. "You're fine, alright? This is just… I don't know what the hell this is but we'll figure it out. Your marbles are not rollin' for the corners again, ok? You hearin' me? This is real, Sam. I'm real."

Sam took a shuddering breath and then another and blew it out. He nodded. "Ok," he breathed and stopped fighting his brother. He let his arms go lax and tried to sit back. "Ok." He wasn't entirely sure he believed that but all he had to hold onto was Dean. His stone number one.

"Good." Dean assumed the garbled words meant Sam was agreeing with him and he let his hands go. "Let me clean up your neck and we'll go back to the curse box room and figure this out. Tilt your head up." Dean nudged Sam's chin back and picked the gauze back up. He carefully went over the three claw marks with a spurt of anger for whatever had hurt his brother and done this too him.

Sam worked at being calm while Dean cleaned his neck and kept his eyes on the hall in case the cursed object appeared. He had to find some way to let Dean know that it was flying and loose in the bunker. More importantly, he needed to know what it was so they could stop it and fix whatever it had done to him. "I need the ledger I was using."

"Huh?" Dean smirked and shook his head while he taped a bandage over his brother's throat. "Pretty sure 'farty' didn't have anything to do with what you're actually tryin' to say."

Sam growled in irritation. "This sucks!"

Dean chuckled. "Don't have to understand that one to figure it out. Yeah this is crap. Come on." He slapped Sam's shoulder and pulled him to his feet. "Curse box room."

Sam moved in front of his brother and pointed at his eyes and then the air around them. "Come on, Dean. Figure it out." He did it again.

Dean's eyes widened. "Wait, you tellin' me there's something loose in here?"

Sam nodded and smiled in relief. "Yes."

"Great." Dean drew his gun and shoved Sam behind him. "Big or small?" he asked and looked back over his shoulder.

Sam held his hands out in a rough approximation of the metal creature's size and shrugged. "About a foot, maybe two."

"Damn I really wish you could tell me how you got hurt. I'm gonna assume the thing has claws." Dean's eyes roved the hall and each nook and cranny as they walked. He checked down the stairs before starting down them to the floor below and kept Sam at his back. "You see it just… tap me on the shoulder or something since speech ain't workin' out so well for you right now."

Sam sighed and nodded. He followed Dean down the stairs and toward the curse box room. "Wait." He pulled Dean to a stop and tried to imitate bird wings with his hands. "It's flying. Flying."

Dean frowned and then snorted a laugh as Sam made ridiculous motions with his hands and spouted more gibberish. "Ok, ok. Stop before I piss my pants laughin'." He knocked Sam's hands down and grinned. "I get it. It's flying, right?" He laughed at Sam's dark glower and nod. "Maybe we should try charades."

"Shut up!" Sam shoved Dean's shoulder in frustration as his brother continued to chuckle.

Dean rubbed a hand over his face and tried to push back the laughter. "Sorry. Ok, come on." He opened the door to the curse box room and looked inside. "Still in here?" Sam shook his head and Dean sighed. "Of course it's not. That'd be too easy."

Sam moved past him again and strode back to the shelf and the broken box. "Here." Sam knelt and picked up the ledger and gestured to the curse box. "It cracked open when it hit the floor."

Dean laughed and slapped a hand over his mouth when Sam growled again. "Sorry, dude. But you should hear the things comin' outta your mouth. Whoever cursed this thing had a sense of humor." He grinned when Sam spoke again and shook his head. "I'm not even gonna repeat that one." He knelt and picked up the curse box, looking at the end of the box that had broken open. "Should be easy enough to glue this back together. Will that work, do you think?"

Sam shrugged. "As long as none of the symbols are broken and the box is whole, yeah. It should I guess."

"I'll take that as a yes." Dean picked up the box and the broken end and set them on a nearby table. "Anything in the book?"

Sam found the entry for the curse box and groaned. "Just an entry for the card catalogue upstairs. I'll have to go back and look for it." He looked up and saw Dean's barely contained mirth and ground his teeth together. Sam tapped the book and pointed up toward the library and then himself.

"Need to hit the books. Got it." Dean turned away and ran a hand over his face. "Holy crap."

Sam punched his brother's shoulder and headed for the door. "Jerk."

Dean snorted and followed him. "I can figure that one out, bitch." He slapped the back of Sam's arm and quickly side-stepped his brother in the hall to get ahead of him. "I'm the one with the gun, dumbass. Stay behind me."

"Pushy." Sam grumbled but did as his brother asked and kept pace behind him. He heard a curious sound ahead of them, like the tinkling of metal and grabbed Dean's shoulder. "Dean."

"Yeah, I hear it. Stay back." Dean took cautious steps to the stairs and looked up. "Shit!" He ducked as something flew out at him. He felt hard metal batter against the top of his head and stared at the flying contraption trying to assault him.

Sam reached out with the ledger, swung and knocked the creature down the hall, spinning it away with an angry hiss. "I don't think shooting it is going to work. It's made of metal."

Dean shook his head at the gibberish, wishing he could understand his brother and took aim at the cursed creature. "Ok, ugly." He fired twice. Both bullets slammed into the elongated, golden body of the creature and ricocheted off into the walls. Dean ducked hurriedly and felt Sam's hand on his shoulder behind him. "Ok. Bad idea. Not doin' that again." He glanced over his shoulder and saw the knowing look on his brother's face. "Shuddup, Sammy."

The creature spun off down the hall and around a corner again and Sam groaned. "Come on. I need the library and you need something to fix that box with."

Dean let Sam go on ahead of him up the stairs and kept his eyes behind them. "I need to get that curse box back in one piece and you need to figure out what the hell that thing did to you."

Sam rolled his eyes. "I just said that."

"You rollin' your eyes at me?" Dean asked with a laugh and put his gun up at his back. He needed to find a better way to deal with the damn thing than bullets.

Sam ignored him and trudged up the stairs. "This is ridiculous," he muttered. "Why does this crap always happen to me?" Behind him he heard his brother muffle more laughter and rolled his eyes. "I don't even want to know what's coming out of my mouth."

"Farty twat buckets. Dude." Dean wiped tears of laughter from his eyes and followed his brother into the library. "Maybe we could leave you like this for a while. This is entertaining as hell. Umph," he grunted when Sam's elbow landed in his gut and then laughed again. "Yeah, maybe not. Go on. Find this thing." Dean chuckled and looked around, eyes landing on the samurai swords in their display. "Perfect."

Sam dug through the card catalogue and finally found the entry he wanted. He went to the shelves and poured through row upon row until finally he found the volume he wanted near the back. He blew off a layer of dust and took it to the table. "Got it," he said for what it was worth, hoping Dean's ability to read him would work even though he was speaking nonsense. He looked up and couldn't stop the smirk as his big brother went through a few practice swings with the samurai sword. "Oh, this is gonna end badly."

"What was that?" Dean asked and lowered the sword; taking in the smile on his brother's face. "Stop laughin' at me and find the damn thing already."

Sam chuckled and nodded. He bent to the book and started flipping through it for the page numbers listed in the catalogue; silently saying a thank you to whoever of the Men of Letters had paid such meticulous attention to detail when cataloguing the bunker's contents.

Dean plucked his brother's jacket from the back of a chair. It would make a decent net to hold the strange creature in long enough to return it to its box. "You." He pointed a finger at Sam when his brother's head came up. "You stay right here. I'm gonna grab the superglue and put that box back together. I mean it, Sammy. No wanderin' around with that thing out there."

"I can take care of myself," Sam retorted and flipped his brother off. "Bet that one gets through loud and clear."

"Smart ass," Dean said with a grin. "I mean it, dude. Stay in the library."

"Right." Sam sat and pulled the book over to him. "Wouldn't want to wander off and get in even more trouble." He scrubbed his good hand through his hair in frustration. "Why did I have to touch the damn thing?" Sam flipped through the book quickly and found the entry. He frowned as he read it and then sat back with a thump. "Oh, you have got to be kidding me. An enchanted, golden brick purported to be from the tower of Babel?" He pulled the book to him and read further. He was so engrossed he didn't hear Dean return and jumped when a hand landed on his shoulder.

"I take it you found it," Dean said with smirk and plucked the book out of his brother's hands. "Can we fix you?"

Sam nodded. He stood and pointed to a section of the entry.

Dean read through it with a brow raised. "So this thing's from the tower of Babel. Like the biblical tower?" He sighed when Sam nodded. "That explains the whole gibberish thing, huh?" He read further and began to grin. He looked sideways at his brother and snorted a laugh. "You really have to do this?"

"Shut up," Sam growled.

"I can guess that one. So…" Dean snapped the book closed and tossed it on the table, studiously not looking at his little brother lest the laugh he was trying to hold in break free. "You have to lick a brick to get your power of speech back." He had to turn his back on his brother and scrubbed a hand down his face.

"I am going to shave you bald in your sleep, Dean," Sam threatened.

Dean burst out laughing and backed away with his hands up. "Hey, I didn't make the rules. Oh, man. This is too good."

"I hope you touch it." Sam glared at his brother.

Dean pulled a pair of heavy work gloves out of his back pocket and held them up. "Figured I probably shouldn't touch the thing, huh?"

"Dammit," Sam groaned.

Dean laughed. "Knew you were hopin' I'd grab the thing too. Suck it, Sammy." He pulled the gloves on and laughed again. "Or lick it, I guess."

"Oh my, God. I hate you. Come on." Sam rolled his eyes and stalked past his brother. "We need to find the damn thing already."

"Can't believe we're chasing a flying, golden brick with teeth." Dean chuckled. "Only us." He pulled his sword off the table and tossed Sam's jacket to him, hitting him in the back of the head. "Use that to grab it when I knock it down."

Sam pulled the jacket over his shoulder with a snarl. "Should go get your leather jacket and use that just to piss you off."

"Oh, I hid my leather." Dean grinned when Sam stared at him in surprise. "Dude, I know how you think. Stop whinin' and get movin'. Sooner we find this thing the better before it finds a way out of here or something."

"Ok, that would be bad." Sam followed Dean down the hall and tried not to think about the panic the cursed object could cause if it affected more people the way it had Sam. It would be a nightmare.

Dean jogged down the stairs to the lower level with Sam at his back and stopped at the bottom. "Ok, you stay here and nab ugly if it comes flyin' back this way." Sam nodded for him and Dean smiled. He turned away and started down the hall, holding the sword out in front of him like a bat.

The hall was quiet as Dean paced along it. He took a last glance at his brother before he turned a corner and stopped to listen. A rustling sounded from further down the hall and Dean grinned, tightening his grip on the sword. "Gotcha. Come to daddy, you little bastard."

Dean stalked silently down the hall toward the sound and realized it was coming from the gun range. He stopped at the top of the stairs leading down and listened. He could still hear the thing, the soft clinking, fluttering noises coming up the stairs and rolled his shoulders out. He started down the stairs and fell back on them as the creature suddenly zoomed into the stairwell.

"Shit!" Dean swung up with the sword and hit the creature, knocking it sideways into the wall. It dropped and banged into the stairs with a clatter before righting itself and flying up again. "No, you don't!" Dean took another swing and had to duck a swipe of claws as they passed through the air where his head had been. The last thing they needed was for both of them to be unable to communicate. He charged up the stairs, chasing the golden creature and fell back a step when Sam's jacket suddenly flew into the stairs and wrapped around the creature; bringing it to the stairs with a solid thump.

Dean grinned. "Nice timing, Sammy."

"Heard you yelling like a little girl," Sam said. He grinned and shrugged when Dean looked curiously at him, unable to understand him.

"Uh huh." Dean narrowed his eyes and walked up to the struggling mound of his brother's jacket. "You know your face gives you away when you're talkin' crap."

Sam laughed and knelt down next to the jacket. He took hold of it and sighed. "How are we gonna do this?"

Dean set the sword down and slapped his hands over the struggling construct under the jacket. He wrapped his hands around the hard metal he could feel under the fabric and took a firm hold. "Ok, Sammy. Pucker up." Dean chuckled and pulled the bundle up. The jacket fell back from the body of the brick with Dean's hands wrapped firmly around it.

Sam glared at him for the comment and looked at the thing. The gold flashed in the overhead lights. Unnatural legs tipped with claws scrabbled at the air for freedom and the wings were scrunched up under Dean's hands and the jacket, preventing it from escaping. He groaned and leaned forward. "Can't believe I have to do this."

"Would you lick it already?" Dean said and then started to laugh as Sam leaned forward. "Ok, that sounded wrong. Come on, dude."

"Shut. Up." Sam snarled and caught hold of the creature's legs with his hands. He held it tightly and leaned in, feeling the brush of air from the claws near his face and flinched away. Sam looked at the gold bar, gleaming at him and darted his head in to lick along the metal. He reared back with the metallic taste on his tongue and wiped a hand over his mouth. "Yech. That tasted like ass."

"Yahtzee!" Dean slammed the gold creature into the stair and rolled it safely into the jacket. "You're talkin' like a normal person again!" He snorted. "There goes my quiet night in."

"You're an ass!" Sam slapped his brother's shoulder and rocked back on his heels with relief. He grinned. "You really can understand me now, right?"

"Every geeky word, little brother." Dean chuckled and stood with his burden. "Hey, grab my sword and let's go chuck this thing back in its box."

Sam let Dean pass him and picked up the sword. He followed quickly after him and couldn't stop the smile from creasing his face. "It's good to be talking sense again."

Dean snorted and turned down the hall toward the curse box room. "Well, as much sense as you ever get up to anyway."

"Keep teasing me and I'm gonna chuck that thing in your room some morning," Sam threatened him with a laugh. "See what kind of nonsense comes out of your mouth, more than normal."

"And spend the rest of your life checkin' the shampoo for Nair? I don't think so. You're not that stupid." Dean grinned and kicked open the room door. "Get the box open, baldy."

Sam went to the table and pushed the repaired curse box open. He held onto it to steady the thing and nodded. "Whenever you're ready."

"Right." Dean took hold of the folds of the jacket and upended the golden brick into the box.

Sam slammed the lid shut and put his weight on it when the box jumped on the table. There were several loud knocks and thumps and finally it went quiet. He slumped in relief and smiled. "Glad that's over."

Dean pushed home the lock on the front of the box with a satisfied thump. "Ok. Now can we eat dinner before you find anymore crap to get up to in here?" He gave Sam a shove toward the door. "Better yet, you don't go through these damn things again without me here just in case."

Sam laughed out into the hall. "The last time I tried to get you to help me, you found a vintage copy of Busty Asian Beauties and vanished."

Dean shrugged, smiled innocently for his brother and headed for the stairs. "What can I say, Sammy? I enjoy reading the classics."

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The End.

A/N: I realized right at the end of this that I missed the initial injury for Sam as a reason to be in the bunker. LOL Hope you enjoyed this anyway!

Next Up: Emebalia