Title: Now I Know My ABC's

Author: Disasteriffic Kaz

Info: A hurt/comfort romp through the alphabet, one letter at a time from A to Z. Each chapter is a stand-alone one shot. There is hurt, comfort, angst, humor, feels and all around fun.

Author's Note: This one is set post 2x11 "Playthings" and... sort of got away from me a bit because the boys would NOT stop cracking me up! So enjoy!

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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B is for Baseball Bat -

Sam glanced up from his laptop as he took a sip of his steaming coffee and couldn't help rolling his eyes when he realized where his brother had vanished to. Dean was standing at the counter. Actually, he was leaned half across it, making serious eye contact with the attractive brown-haired waitress behind it and showing an incredible lack of subtlety as he held her pendant in his fingers and tugged on it until her face was only inches from her own. She was clearly enjoying the view if her flushed cheeks and the giggle Sam heard were anything to go by.

"Man whore," Sam muttered under his breath. He shook his head in fond exasperation at his brother and took another sip of his coffee, sure in the knowledge they would now be spending an extra night in this town. He closed his laptop with a soft 'snick' and decided he could wait and tell Dean about the case tomorrow. Sam made a show of giving his brother a disgusted look when Dean spared a glance for him and snorted a soft laugh at the triumphant grin Dean shot him before putting his attention back on the waitress.

Sam rubbed his left hand over his right wrist for a moment and savored the sensation of finally being out of the cast. It had seemed to take forever to heal, and it still felt a bit odd to not have that heavy weight there, throwing off his aim. He smiled, flexing his wrist and sighed. He put his laptop back in its bag and finished the rest of his coffee. He'd just walk back to the motel, since they were only a few blocks away. He had no doubt Dean would have somewhere else to spend at least part of the night. He stood, shouldering the bag and looked up as the door behind his brother opened and a large, burly, bearded man stepped into the diner. A trucker's cap was pulled low on his forehead, and his face, as he took in Dean all but kissing the waitress at the counter, darkened with rage.

"Oh, crap," Sam groaned. He knew that look all too well with Dean's lifelong need to flirt with everyone. It wouldn't be the first time a woman had failed to mention a significant other to his brother in the face of Dean's charisma. The trucker advanced on Dean, and Sam blew out a breath. "Here we go." He straightened his shoulders and strode the ten feet to them, stepped in between his brother and the trucker, and knocked the man's hand away before he could grab Dean by the back of the neck.

"Just calm down," Sam said in as calming a tone as he could. He towered over the trucker by several inches and used them all to good effect as he put his shoulders back and stared down into the man's surprised eyes. "There's no need to do something stupid here."

"That jackass puttin' the moves on my girl a friend of yours?" The trucker asked, his anger giving him the courage to stand up to the behemoth in front of him.

"Oh, my God. Randy?" The waitresses high, surprised voice came.

Sam rolled his eyes again and felt his brother turn behind him. "Randy, look. My brother didn't know she was taken. It was just some harmless flirting, and we're going now."

"Bullshit." Randy snarled.

"Dude." Dean asked in surprise and shook his head at the wall of little brother that had appeared out of nowhere. Between the two of them, "I got your back," was not just a figure of speech. He looked back at the waitress, Sally, and raised his brows. "You might have mentioned you were dating Grizzly Adams."

"Oh, man. Dammit, Dean." Sam groaned and put a hand out when Randy tried to sidestep him. "Randy, I mean it. We can leave peacefully, but if you put a hand on him, you're going to regret it."

"Sammy, I got this." Dean stepped out from behind his brother. He wasn't going to hide behind Sam. He could face his own mistakes and besides, it was supposed to be him protecting Sammy, not the other way around. "No harm, no foul, man. We were just talking."

"Talking my ass!" Randy shoved Sam to the side and threw his other fist into the other man's face.

Dean's head snapped back and he staggered back a step in surprise. "Son of a bitch." He brought a hand up to his nose and felt blood beginning to drip. He hadn't expected things to escalate that quickly. He rolled out his shoulders and met Randy's eyes. "You asked for it. I'm done playin' nice guy. Let's do this."

"Dean, no! Randy, stop! Oh, my God!" Sally's voice rose in fear as the two men squared off and she watched in surprise as Dean's brother came in from the side and his fist plowed into the side of Randy's jaw like a wrecking ball. Randy's head jerked away from the blow, and he seemed to fall in slow motion, twisting to his left until he was lying on the floor and blinking up at the ceiling in a daze. "What did you do?"

Dean stared down at Randy and then looked over at his little brother and couldn't stop the grin. "Damn, Sammy. You been eatin' your Wheaties?"

"Shuddup. Can we go now, please?" Sam picked up his laptop from where he'd let it fall and put it over his shoulder. "Before she decides to call the cops. Come on."

"Yeah, yeah." Dean grabbed a pile of napkins off the counter and smiled down at Sally where she was crouched next to Randy. "Sorry, honey. Could have been fun. Promise I'll stop in we're ever back this way again." He winked at her and headed for the door with Sam in tow.

Sam looked back at the waitress and Randy when he reached the door. "Uh... sorry about this." He didn't wait to hear if Sally was going to blame them and let the door close behind him. "You know, you should start off by asking women you flirt with if they're taken."

"Where's the fun in that?" Dean held his wad of napkins to his nose and strode to the Impala. He slid in behind the wheel and then held out the hand with the bloody napkins so they were in Sam's face. "Don't start with me, dude. That was not my fault."

"Ew." Sam slapped his brother's hand away and shook his head. "You were practically humping her on the counter, Dean. You're lucky some local didn't decide to defend her honor on principle alone."

Dean chuckled and put the napkins back to his nose as he pulled out of the diner. "You're just jealous." He headed down the road toward their motel and flicked his gaze to his brother. "Think we can risk tonight here?"

Sam shrugged. "Probably, although I found a case two hours north of here in Indianapolis."

"Why didn't you say something sooner?" Dean demanded.

Sam snorted and gave a pointed look to his brother's nose. "Because I thought you were going to be bumping uglies tonight."

"Bumping... are you twelve?" Dean laughed and pulled in to the motel. "Alright. Fine. Let's pack up and you can tell me about this job while I fix my nose." He saw Sam's knuckles in the lights from the motel as he parked and shook his head. "And you can clean up those knuckles, slugger. Damn."

Sam looked at his right fist and flexed his fingers with a grimace as his bleeding knuckles stretched. "Felt like punching a tree."

Dean laughed as he got out of the car. "Took his ass down though! Timber!" He called the last word out loudly, elongating the syllables until Sam was red-faced with embarrassment and waving him toward the room. Dean chuckled and gave in. "Spoilsport." He couldn't help the smile as they entered the room. It felt good to be like this with Sam; normal. A moment in their lives now without Dad's cryptic warning hanging over them. It felt like the old days, before Sam left for Stanford and Dean's world started spinning off its axis.

"Go clean up your nose." Sam waved a hand at the bathroom and grabbed the ice bucket, dunking his hand into the melting ice and water. "I'll start packing."

"Yeah; you better take care of that." Dean shucked off his jacket and tossed it on the bed. "Just got your gimp hand back. I don't wanna have to listen to you whine if you break it again. Can't believe you punched that guy. I could'a taken him." He didn't wait for Sam's retort and closed the bathroom door on his laugh instead.

Sam smiled, shook his head and took his hand out of the ice bucket. He plucked one of Dean's dirty t-shirts from the chair and used it to clean off his knuckles, satisfied that he hadn't done any real damage. He quickly packed up the room and had their duffles and the weapons bag sitting on Dean's bed ready to go by the time his brother emerged from the bathroom.

"So, what's the case?" Dean asked as he came out and poked gingerly at his face now that he'd gotten the bleeding stopped.

"Ghost, I think." Sam ducked into the bathroom and grabbed the first aid kit from the sink, packing that away too. "It's a children's museum in Indianapolis. Some of the after-hours staff, janitors, and a couple security guards have been attacked, but the security cameras always go on the fritz right before it happens, and no one's managed to give a clear description of who or what attacked them."

"Huh. Ok, sounds hinkey. Anything else?" Dean plucked his duffle off the bed and picked up the weapons bag as well, in deference to his brother risking his newly healed hand for him.

"Yeah." Sam grabbed his own bag and followed Dean out into the cool night air. "I did a little digging, and they just opened an exhibit right before the first attack." He tossed his bag in the trunk and leaned against the car while Dean rearranged them to his liking. "It's in the National Geographic exhibit. They just put out a whole display of ancient African ritual and burial artifacts. Made the newspapers even because they had to get all sorts of releases from the African consulate to display them."

"Now I know there's something hinkey going on. Sure... why not display a bunch freakin' ghost magnets in a place you're gonna have a bunch of kids running around?" Dean nodded once he had the trunk the way he wanted it. He gave his brother a shove off the car and pulled it closed. "Anybody dead?"

"Not yet, as far as I can find." Sam went around the car and folded himself into the passenger seat.

"Let's hope we can keep it that way." Dean gunned the engine and pulled out of the motel parking lot. "Case in a museum. You get to be a happy nerd."

"It's a kids' museum."

"And your point is?" Dean grinned over at him and aimed the car north.

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Sam sighed and didn't have to look over to see the look of glee on Dean's face. "Just don't, Dean."

"Sammy." Dean looked at the front of the Indianapolis Children's Museum and grinned.

"Shut up."

Dean began to laugh and took the punch to his arm with a smirk. "Now I know why you wanted to wait until tonight and go in the back entrance without having a look around first. You didn't want me to see this!"

"I hate you," Sam groaned and started walking, leaving Dean to get his laughter under control.

Dean eyed the front of the tall, glass-fronted building and followed his brother. A massive dinosaur sculpture, at least forty feet tall, stood leaning against the front of the building. Off to the right, still more dinosaurs had been sculpted to look as though they were breaking out of the side of the building -which even Dean had to secretly admit looked pretty cool -and even from there, he could see the skeleton of what had to be a Tyranosaurus rex inside the glass building. "Dude! Dude!" He caught up to Sam and grabbed his arm. "You would have loved this shit as a kid! Damn! You remember when you went through that dinosaur phase? You were what? Twelve?"

Sam shook Dean's hand off his arm but couldn't stop the smile as he looked up and up at the Brachiosaurus stretched above them. "I remember."

"Man, you loved these things." Dean chuckled and patted Sam's shoulder, snorting a laugh when it too was shrugged off. "You even had the doll."

"It wasn't a doll."

"Ok; it was a dinosaur, but suck it up, Sammy. It was a doll." Dean danced away from the next punch and followed him to the entrance. "What the hell was that thing? Had a hammer on the end of its tail."

"Ankylosaurus," Sam supplied grudgingly and pulled open the doors. "It was an Ankylosaurus."

"Right!" Dean strode into the museum and gave a wink to the woman at the desk ahead of them. "You carried that thing around for years!" He turned, walking backwards and enjoyed the look of little brother anguish on Sam's face. "They were small but fierce, you said. Could even take on a T. rex."

"Please be quiet now," Sam begged as they neared the counter.

Dean slid an arm over his brother's shoulders as they reached the counter and smiled fondly. "The little guy beatin' up the neighborhood bully. He was your hero."

"Was not," Sam muttered and stepped up to the desk, refusing to give Dean the satisfaction of telling him HE had been Sam's hero. "Hello. We'd like tickets for two, please."

"Good morning, sir! Would you like tickets to a particular exhibit or all access passes?" The young woman flicked her blonde braid behind her ear and smiled up at Sam.

"Uh, all access, please." Sam returned the smile and ignored the elbow Dean jabbed in his ribs. "Can you make one of those a child's?" he asked and hooked a thumb at his big brother, making her laugh.

"Shut up. Your face is... a child." Dean finished lamely, glared at Sam, and smiled at the woman.

"Wow." Sam grinned at his brother and shook his head. "Sad, dude."

"So, brothers then." The woman smiled warmly at them, enjoying the view and printed out two passes, taking the money from the taller of the two and giving him his change. She looked up at him, smiled, and flipped her hair again. "You could always drop him off at the daycare on level one."

"Hey!" Dean protested with a laugh and grabbed Sam's arm. "Come on, Romeo. Geez."

"Thank you," Sam called as he was dragged away and he laughed.

Dean rolled his eyes and shook his head as they walked, but still he smiled. "Hey." He slapped a hand into his brother's arm with a smirk for his grunt of discomfort and pointed. "National Geographic, Treasures of the Earth. That's what we're looking for. I thought it was upstairs."

"The exhibit has two floors." Sam stopped inside the entrance and blew out a breath. The exhibit stretched back from the door with dozens of display cases and dioramas. "How about you take this floor and I'll go upstairs. Otherwise we're gonna be here forever."

"Anyone get jumped during business hours?" Dean asked and turned to look at him.

Sam shook his head. "Only once the museum is closed for the night. We'll be safe enough."

"Oh, that's comforting. Safe enough." Dean snorted. "Yeah, ok. You take upstairs. Call me if you find something. Of course, it would help if we even had a clue what we're looking for in here."

Sam smiled. "Well, my money's on burial relics. Probably pissed some poor dead guy off moving his prized possessions around."

"No one likes having their family jewels taken away, Sammy."

Sam groaned and walked away from Dean's big, shameless grin. "You're disgusting. Go. Look. Use the EMF meter."

Dean snickered to himself and strode into the exhibit space. It was warmer inside with the sun hitting the glass wall, and he felt a trickle of sweat begin to ease down his back. He reached into his pocket and took out his homemade EMF, keeping it low in his hand and hopefully out of sight as he flicked it on. It was early enough in the day that the museum wasn't packed with people yet. There were only a handful of others scattered through the exhibit that he could see, and Dean did his best to keep away from them.

"Hope you register on EMF, Casper," Dean muttered and started running the meter near each display case as he passed. There was a case of pottery where his meter didn't even take notice, and a case of small jars and a few urns, and for those the meter whined softly but barely tipped the needle. Dean frowned and moved on to the next and the next. He stopped at a case displaying a collection of bone knives, and the EMF started a low whine of noise.

"Huh." Dean gave it a shake and held it closer over the case. The knives registered but not with the strength a haunted object should have. He decided that while one or more of the knives may have been buried with their ghost, none of them was the thing he was actually attached to. "Dammit." He walked across to the first of the dioramas along the side wall and shook his head at the little dolls posed behind the glass around their little huts and caves and fake fires. "Sam would be eating this up," he muttered and chuckled and ran the EMF along the front of the case as he passed but got nothing worth mentioning.

Dean jumped when his cell phone rang in his pocket and tucked the meter away as he pulled out his phone and saw Sam's name. "You find something?"

"Yeah. I think maybe I've got our artifact up here. It's some sort of totem that must have been buried with the body. The EMF went nuts when I got close to it." Sam paused. "Well, it's either this totem or the chipped bone knife thing next to it."

"I'm coming up. You get it out of the..." Dean broke off when he heard a crash through the speaker. "Sam?" He started running toward the escalator and took the moving steps three at a time. He hopped off at the top and turned, sliding on the marble floor until he could stop and jerk in the other direction toward the exhibit. Dean followed the sound of raised voices and pushed through a group of people until he found his brother.

"What the..." Dean stared down at his brother. Sam was sitting on the floor with another man. A ladder lay beside them, and both men, as well as the floor around them, were coated in splatters of baby blue paint. Sam turned, craning his neck to look up at him, and Dean slapped a hand over his mouth in an effort to hold in the laughter that bubbled up. "Uh..."

"Shut up." Sam looked over at the man beside him and put a hand on his shoulder. He quickly yanked it away when he left a hand print and heard the first of his big brother's muffled laughter behind him. "You alright?"

"Yeah. No. I'm, uh... wow." The man shook his head and got carefully to his feet. "Wow, man. That could have been bad. Thanks for helping break the fall. You're not hurt are you?"

Sam smiled and got to his knees. "No, I'm ok. Just... you know." He hooked a thumb over his shoulder at Dean who was now openly in hysterical laughter. "I'm never going to live this down."

The man chuckled and brushed paint-covered hands down his coveralls. "I'm really sorry about that."

Sam turned around to his brother and threw his hands up in defeat when Dean laughed so hard he doubled over and there were tears leaking from his eyes. "You're not funny."

"No... No." Dean gasped and glanced up, only to start laughing again. "But your face is! Holy crap!"

Sam's face reddened under the covering of paint as he looked around at all the onlookers who were themselves beginning to dissolve into chuckles and laughter now that they knew there was no danger and no one hurt. Sam ran a hand through his hair and snarled in rage when his fingers caught and stuck in the strands and paint. "I am done with this day," he grumbled under his breath and started out of the exhibit.

Dean straightened and followed Sam, trying to get his laughter under control but his untangling paint-sticky fingers from hair combined with the squishing sound of his left foot every time he took a step all worked against him. Dean ended up leaning against the wall outside the exhibit, gasping for air while Sam glared death at him.

"Are you done yet?" Sam demanded angrily and turned away without waiting for an answer to stalk-squish to the escalator, leaving a single trail of blue footprints in his wake.

Dean wheezed for breath, wiped the tears of laughter from his face and hurried after his brother. He had to lag behind to reassure the girl at the ticket booth that Sam was fine and jogged to catch him in the parking lot before he could lay a hand on the handle of the passenger door. "Oh, hell no." Dean slapped Sam's hand away with a laugh. "Stand down, soldier. You're not gettin' that baby blue crap all over my baby. Just hang on."

Sam dropped his head back and stared up at the sky, resisting the urge to scream out of frustration and waited while Dean popped the trunk and dug out an old tarp. "If you laugh one more time..."

Dean snorted, sucked it back and choked a little on a laugh as he spread the tarp over the passenger seat and down into the foot well of the Impala. "Just, uh... don't... don't look at me. Oh, man."

Sam ground his teeth together and carefully got into the car, making sure to stay on the tarp. He had a brief urge to purposefully smear the robin's egg blue paint on some part of the interior but sighed and let it go. He didn't want to mar the car any more than Dean did. She was home, after all. "I think our ghost is responsible," he said instead once Dean slid behind the wheel and started the car. "The EMF went nuts right before the guy's ladder shook itself down."

"So, Casper didn't like you getting so closed to whatever he's tied to." Dean nodded and then smirked. "Sure paints him in a bad light."

"You suck!"

Dean roared with fresh laughter and then saw his brother raise a paint-covered arm toward him. "I am armed and I will shoot you if you touch me."

Sam's bad mood evaporated slightly with that, and he chuckled before letting his arm fall back into his lap. "I think it's the little totem doll. The thing's kind of creepy, and there's this thatch of black hair stuck to the top of it. What do you wanna bet it's from the dead guy?"

"Sounds right. So, we do a smash and grab, salt and burn it, and the museum's back to entertaining snot-nosed kids in no time." Dean smiled. "Easy. Go in tonight?"

Sam shrugged and nodded. "May as well. Shouldn't be more than two or three people in the whole museum after midnight. We should be able to avoid them and get the totem."

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Sam ran a hand through his hair for the hundredth time while Dean worked at picking the lock on the service door at the back of the museum. It still felt stringy and a bit like doll's hair from the paint thinner he'd had to use to get the paint out of it.

"You keep doin' that, it's gonna fall out, and then where will we be the next time I need your shaggy mop to distract the bad guys?" Dean grinned up at Sam and then turned the knob, pushing the door open as he stood.

"My hair's not gonna fall out," Sam said grumpily but couldn't stop himself from running his fingers through it yet again to feel if it were thinning.

Dean snorted a soft laugh as he stepped into the semi-darkness of the closed museum and the door snicked quietly closed behind his brother. "Security office is that way," Dean whispered and pointed to the left. He adjusted the strap of the bag over his shoulder with a grimace. "This thing's heavy. You're carryin' it out."

"There's a set of stairs up to the second floor in the Dinosphere that we should be able to use without getting busted." Sam started off to the right.

Dean snickered. "Dinosphere."

"Can you be twelve later?" Sam slapped at Dean's shoulder behind him and stopped at the end of the hall to peer out into the wide gallery. He heard the faint sound of rubber-soled shoes on tile from the left at the front of the building. "Ok, now." He jogged out into the gallery and headed toward the entrance to the Dinosphere as quickly as he could. Dean was a dark shadow at his left shoulder, and they reached the door just as the lazily swinging beam of a flashlight appeared at the other end of the gallery.

Dean shoved Sam inside the door and smiled when their feet sank into plush carpeting. He took the lead and broke into a run up the long hall, his eyes only glancing at the dinosaur murals painted on the walls. The hall stopped at a set of double doors and Dean eased one of them open. "Whoa," he breathed it out as he got a look at the skeleton of what had to be a Tyransaurus rex in the center of the floor. "That's some Jurassic Park shit right there."

"You know the T. rex wasn't actually from the Jurassic?" Sam said softly and headed around the skeleton toward the spiral staircase at the back of the massive, circular room. "Actually, most of the dinosaurs in Jurassic Park were from the Cretaceous. Michael Crichton didn't pay a lot of attention during his research phase."

Dean laughed and smothered the sound when it started to echo as they climbed the spiral stairs. "Wow. You're still a nerd for the giant lizards." He reached up and patted his brother's shoulder. "That's kinda sweet, Sammy."

"Get off." Sam smiled and slowed as he neared the top of the stairs. He eased up to the top and looked out but couldn't see any sign of movement within the Dinosphere. "Think we're good, and the entrance for the National Geographic exhibit is just past the food court."

"Ooh. Dinner. Kidding." Dean grinned and took the lead once more as they crossed through the small forest of dinosaur skeletons, eggs, and life size models. He cautiously entered the hall leading out and scanned the rows of little collectible dinosaurs on his left. Dean flicked a glance back at Sam and palmed one of them into his pocket before his brother could see.

"Keep moving." Sam gave Dean's shoulder a nudge and followed him at a jog down the carpeted hall. "The guard was still down on the first floor, so we should have plenty of time before he checks out this floor."

"Let's boogie." Dean opened the door and stepped boldly out into the atrium. It was a huge, open-air space that extended up through the floor above with night sky just visible through the glass ceiling high above. He moved off to the right with Sam close on his heels, walking softly and ears attuned for the sound of the security guard, but the museum was silent. Sam tapped his shoulder and pointed ahead and Dean nodded. They crossed the open arch to the food court and just beyond was the door to the exhibit they had used earlier in the day.

Sam went ahead of Dean and quickly across the room. He noted paint still on the floor, though it was dry now, and it was still splattered over the display case as well. He moved around to the back of the case and took out his flashlight, flicking it on. "Oh, crap."

"What?" Dean moved up alongside him. "Hurry up and grab the thing before we get jumped."

"I can't. Dean, it's gone." Sam shone his light through the spattered paint and groaned. "They've emptied the case, probably so they can clean it up. Oh, man."

"Son of a bitch!" Dean ran a hand back and forth through his hair and scowled. "Well, now what?"

"Uh, artifact storage is in the basement, I think." Sam shrugged. "I'm guessing. It's not on the official maps, and I couldn't find blueprints for this place online, but that's usually where museums stash things, so... basement?"

"We even know how to find the basement in this place?" Dean moved back to the door and peeked out into the hall, but there was still no sign of the security guard on his rounds.

Sam closed his eyes and pictured the public maps for the building in his head. He nodded after a moment. "Yeah. I think I do. There's an elevator - well there's like five elevators in the building, but the biggest one is near the planetarium. Big enough to move exhibits from floor to floor."

"And right where we last saw the security guard. Awesome." Dean sighed and pulled the door open wider. "Come on, then."

They moved quickly toward the planetarium, and Sam pulled Dean to the left at the escalator. "Over here," he whispered and went to the elevator doors in the corner. He pushed the button and cringed as there was a deceptively loud 'ding' that seemed to echo around them when the doors opened. Sam ducked inside and looked at the control panel and smiled. "Got it." There was a keyhole at the base of the panel beside a button that did nothing when he pressed it. "Just have to pick this to unlock it."

"Hurry it up." Dean moved away from the elevator and toward the escalators. He peeked carefully over the side to the floor below and frowned. "Where the hell is the security guard? Slowest damn patrol route ever."

"Dean," Sam hissed as loud as he dared and waved his brother over as he stood.

"Somethin's up," Dean told his brother as he stepped inside and the doors closed. "My spidey senses are tingling. That guard should have been on us by now, or we should have at least seen the guy again."

"It's a big building. He could be anywhere." Sam pressed the button for the basement level and put a hand on the wall when the car began to drop.

"Yeah. Right." Dean pulled the heavy bag off his shoulder, unzipped it, and pulled out a sawed-off shotgun.

"Dude, we can't fire that in a museum." Sam pushed the gun away and reached into the bag himself, coming out with an iron bar instead. "We're trying not to get caught, remember?"

"I promise to only shoot in emergencies." Dean smiled but refused to put the gun away and hitched the bag over his shoulder. He made sure it was loaded and rolled out his shoulders as the elevator came to a stop. "Let's rock and roll."

The elevator doors slid open with another ding onto a stone hall that stretched away ahead of them. Each wall had three sets of double doors that Sam could see. The lighting was probably better before an angry spirit began exploding bulbs. Every other light along the ceiling was dark and fragments of glass littered the hallway, glittering in the pools of light that remained.

"Ok. This is not good," Sam conceded. He narrowed his eyes and stepped out of the elevator, knelt down and pointed. "Those look like footprints. Someone walked through here."

"Our missing security guard?" Dean sighed and brought the shotgun up. "Man, I really hope that guy's just having an extra long donut break somewhere. Come on."

Sam ducked ahead of his brother and took the lead. He checked the signs by each set of doors as they passed and shook his head each time.

"Why aren't we checking these?" Dean ask and rapped his knuckles on the door Sam had just skipped over.

"Mostly? Because the padlocks on the handles have dust on them." Sam smirked at his brother. "Been a while since anyone went in there."

Dean scowled, picked up the lock with a soft of click of metal against the door's handles and snorted. "I knew that."

"Uh huh." Sam kept moving down the hall and realized that the guard's footprints in the pulverized glass went all the way to the doors at the end. "Pretty sure that's gonna be the one we want."

Dean nodded and moved quickly around Sam, determined to be the first one into danger if the ghost was waiting for him. It had, after all, already taken a shot at his little brother earlier in the day, even if it hadn't done any real damage. He pushed the door open until it caught and stayed against the wall behind it and led inside with the shotgun. "You hear anything?"

Sam shook his head as he eased in behind his brother. He tightened his grip on his iron rod. "No."

Dean stuck his left hand into his pocket and flicked the EMF meter on. It began a steady whine as he took it out and watched the needle climb toward the red. "Our ghost is definitely in here somewhere. Watch your ass." He started into the room among the rows and towers of ceiling-height shelves.

"You take this aisle. I'll take the next one over." Sam moved away into the next aisle. "Yes, I'll be careful."

"Damn well better be, Jeopardy-boy," Dean grumbled and tried not to twitch as Sam moved out of his line of sight.

Sam listened for the soft whine of the meter in Dean's hand, using it like a locator so he knew where Dean was. He looked at the shelves as he passed. They were cluttered with tagged items - boxes and dolls, statuary and sculptures. There were shelves of knives and one with clubs, but nowhere did he see the African artifacts he was looking for.

"Damn." Sam moved more quickly down the aisles, still with an ear out for his brother.

"Whoa!"

Sam stopped when his brother's voice sounded. "Dean? You alright?"

"Dude! I found the sports memorabilia aisle!" Dean crowed.

Sam could practically hear the grin in his brother's voice. "Priorities, Dean!"

"Sammy, they've got a vintage Georgia driver with Lou Gehrig's name on it! This is like a Yankees holy grail!"

Sam chuckled and started down the aisle again. "Don't play with the museum knick-knacks!"

"Spoilsport!"

"Giant child," Sam muttered fondly. He tensed as he heard the whine of Dean's EMF climb in pitch, and a moment later there was a crash from his direction. "Dean!" Sam ran, heading down the aisle toward the next junction of aisles and every crash and shout from his brother drove him faster. "Dean!"

"Son of a bitch!"

"Hang on!" Sam grabbed the end of a shelf and used it to swing himself around, and he picked up again, turning into the next aisle. He found his brother in a small open space, and Dean was on the floor with one hand on his head. A spirit hung in the air above him wielding, of all things, a baseball bat. The bat rose up menacingly as the spirit's blackened eyes fixed on Dean's prone form beneath him.

"No!" Sam sprinted the remaining distance. He slid to a stop over his brother's head and raised his right arm with the iron rod toward the ghost as the baseball bat fell toward Dean's skull. The bat glanced off Sam's rod and slammed into his wrist with a horrifying crack. White-hot pain flooded through Sam and he staggered back, the rod falling uselessly from his now numb fingers. He stumbled into one of the shelves and went to his knees with tears in his eyes as he cradled his right arm to his chest. "Shit. Shit. Shit." He panted for air and managed to reach out and catch the end of the rod with his left hand. Sam lifted it and threw it at the ghost. It passed through the spirit, dissipating it at least temporarily, and the bat clattered to the aisle and rolled away.

"Dean?" Sam asked in a voice gone hoarse with pain. "You ok?"

"Uh..." Dean squeezed his eyes shut and swallowed hard around a lump of nausea in his throat. "Friggin' hurt. Used m'head like... like a baseball. Ow." He blinked and opened his eyes. The world swam around him for a moment before finally setting and he narrowed his eyes when he realized that Sam was huddled back against a shelf with his right arm held tight against his chest. "Sammy? You ok?"

Sam shook his head. He was too far into the pain just then to get a word out. The ghost had broken his newly healed wrist for him. He'd felt the bones snap and, even then, as he heard Dean move toward him over the pounding of his own heart, he could almost feel the bones shifting with each breath he took. He was in serious danger of throwing up.

"Sam." Dean got to his knees and eased across the floor to his brother. He looked over, saw his shotgun and pulled that with him. "S'goin' on, dude? Talk to me." Sam's posture and face screamed 'pain'.

"Ghost," Sam whispered between panted breaths. "Broke... my wrist."

"Shit, again? Man, that just healed!" Dean groaned and scrubbed a hand over his face. "Lem'me look at it." He reached out, but Sam only curled more into himself defensively. "Sammy, come on. I gotta have a look."

Sam shook his head again. "No point. Find... find the totem. Then hospital."

"Yeah," Dean blew out a breath and rested a hand on Sam's shoulder for a moment. "Ok, little brother. You stay put. I'm gonna go roast that asshole." He climbed to his feet using the shelf and held on to it until the world steadied around him. He looked down and used his foot to nudge Sam's iron poker over next to him. "Dude, keep your other hand on that in case cranky comes back before I find the damn thing."

Sam nodded and slowly forced himself to let go of his right arm and reach down, curling his fingers around the cold iron instead. "Go. Go."

"I'll be back." Dean headed down the aisles once more, and every footstep away from his injured brother made him twitch, but there was little choice. If Sam was that uncommunicative because of the pain, then the break had to be even worse this time, seeing as the first time, his brother had walked it off with a laugh.

"Alright you bastard. Where's your hairy heirloom?" Dean stalked down the aisle, steadying himself on the shelves as he went each time his head spun. He was pretty sure he had at least a slight concussion, but there was nothing he could do about it just then. Ghost slugger needed to be stopped and he was the only game in town at the moment. He kept an ear out for the EMF in his pocket. It was going at a steady low whine meaning the ghost was still there but wasn't coming for him just yet. "Come on. Come on." Dean moved faster, letting his eyes scan across each shelf as he went. He knew they were on borrowed time, and the last thing he wanted was for the spirit to return and go after his brother. He wanted the bastard focused on him.

Dean was jogging between the shelves, picking aisles at random, and as he passed a junction of aisles, his eye caught on a vase he had seen upstairs on display earlier. "Yes!" He turned back and ran to the corner and grinned as he found the collection of African artifacts. "Now we're talkin'." The meter in his pocket began to whine more loudly as he started rifling through the tagged items- knives, bowls, little statues, and bones - in search of the totem they had spotted. "Where are you, dammit? Sammy! He's comin' back!"

Sam jerked his chin up from his chest as Dean's voice echoed to him. "Shit." He tightened his left hand around the iron poker and scanned the aisle to either side of him. He hoped the ghost would wait just a little longer, but even as he thought it, the air around him suddenly cooled. "Dean!" he yelled and moaned as it drove a fresh wave of pain through him. "Hurry up!"

"God," Sam groaned softly and tried to get his legs under him. The pain in his arm made his whole body hurt, and he did his best to push it down. There was no more time for him to wallow in it. "Move. Gotta... move."

A scream of rage preceded the reappearance of the ghost. It appeared several feet away, and Sam pushed with his feet, using the shelf behind him to try and stand and still keep the iron poker between them. "Dean," he tried to shout, but it came out a hoarse bark of sound. The ghost roared again and Sam finally gained his feet. He brought the poker up to swing it through the apparition and shouted in surprised pain as something hard slammed into his knees. He went down to the floor again and rolled to his side. Behind him, the baseball bat rose up, clattering along the side of the shelf as it readied another attack.

"No." Sam kept his right arm tight to his chest and rolled frantically away as the bat fell. It slammed into the shelves where his head had been and shattered what was no doubt a priceless urn. The pieces rained down on him as he picked his head back up to watch for the next attack.

Dean heard the mayhem explode behind him and cursed, knowing the ghost had gone for his injured brother rather than him. "Gonna cost you," he muttered as he moved to the next shelf and threw its contents this way and that as he searched. "Just givin' me the time I need to make sure you regret hurting my little brother, you son of a bitch. Hang on, Sam."

Dean raised his head toward the ceiling and shouted. "You hold on, Sammy! Almost got it!" He looked back down to the shelf. "Please tell me I almost got it. Where are you?" He shoved a pile of tattered fabric of some kind aside and shouted in relief as his hand closed around the totem.

"Gotcha." Dean lifted it up and wrinkled his nose at the thatch of dark hair, gone wiry with age, that was tacked to the top of it. "Yech." He dropped the thing to the floor and knelt as he pulled his bag around and dug out the holy water and salt.

"Here we go." Dean sprinkled holy water over the totem then coated it liberally in salt before pulling out the lighter fluid and coating it. "Hey, asshole!" he bellowed up toward the ceiling and took out his Zippo. "Time to die!" Dean spun the wheel, flicking the flame to life, and then dropped it as he stood. Flames erupted from the totem and rose far higher than they should have.

"Shit!" Dean backed away hastily as the flames continued to grow until it was a bonfire nearly as tall as he was. Just as he thought the fire was going to start spreading to the shelves around him; an unholy scream pierced the air and the flames puffed out. The EMF meter in his pocket went silent and Dean heaved a sharp breath of relief.

"Sam!" Dean called. He hastily repacked the bag, grabbed it and the shotgun, and started back toward where he'd left his brother. "Sam, talk to me!" He listened as he walked and every moment of silence drove a little slice of fear deeper into his heart.

Dean rounded the last corner of shelves at a run and slid to a stop. Sam lay in the center of the aisle surrounded by broken pottery, and the Gehrig baseball bat Dean had drooled over was in two pieces beside him.

"Oh, God." Dean dropped to his knees, grabbed a hold of Sam's left arm and carefully rolled his brother up into his own arms. "Sammy?" Fresh blood coated the side of Sam's face and a fierce bruise was even then beginning to color along the right side of his neck. "Jesus, I never should have left you. Sam." He gave Sam a soft shake and put a hand to his throat. The rhythmic thump of his brother's heart there gave him a small measure of peace, and Dean smiled when Sam moaned softly and twitched.

"That's it, little brother. Come on. Open your eyes." Dean reached down and gently picked up Sam's newly broken right wrist, situating it so it laid across his chest again and was as straight as he could make it. Sam's face scrunched up in pain and Dean rubbed a hand along his left biceps to soothe him.

"Sammy." Dean waited and was rewarded as Sam's eyes slowly fluttered open. They were dazed and filled with pain, but he was awake and Dean would take it. "Dude, what the hell happened?"

Sam moaned softly and brought his left hand up to hold his right arm. "Ghost. Bat. Ow."

Dean snorted. "Well, that was eloquent. You hurt anywhere not obvious?"

"Uh..." Sam closed his eyes for a moment and tried to take stock. He hissed in a breath as he straightened his legs. "Took... took out m'knees from... from behind. Think s'ok, though. Just hurts."

"Damn. Ok. Hang on." Dean moved Sam into an upright position as carefully as he could and grimaced in sympathy as Sam whimpered pitifully and let his head fall forward. "Easy. Breathe, buddy. Gotta get you outta here, alright?"

Sam took a couple deep breaths, or as deep as he could manage and raised his head again. "Yeah. I can... I can walk. Just get... get me up."

"I gotcha. Just let me do all the work." Dean moved and knelt behind his brother and shook his head. "This is gonna suck. Just keep breathin' and you'll be ok. Ok, going up." He slipped his arms under Sam's shoulders and was as careful as he could be of the broken wrist before he pulled and dragged Sam back to his feet.

Sam's groan of pain was loud and long and echoed in his own ears along with the pounding of his heart by the time he was vertical again. His aching knees threatened to go out on him and he locked them stubbornly in place.

"Sam? You still with me?" Dean shifted so he was supporting his brother with an arm around his waist and got a look at his pale, blood-splattered face.

"Y-yeah." Sam cracked his eyes open and nodded. "Not... not gonna last though."

"Just to the car, Sammy. That's all you gotta do. You can do that." Dean turned him around and started herding Sam toward the doors as quickly as he dared. He'd seen no sign of the security guard anywhere, so either the guy was out cold, dead, or just wandered off somewhere. Right then, Dean didn't have the patience to look for him. Sam was more important. "Just to the car. That's all. Come on. Keep moving. You're ok."

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Dean looked over at his brother for the hundredth time and rearranged his booted feet on the end of Sam's bed. He heard a disapproving sniff and looked up with a raised brow to find the nurse frowning at him yet again. "What?" he asked innocently.

"Boots belong on the floor, not on my patient's bed," The nurse informed him disdainfully and came over to slap the side of his feet. "Drop them."

"Look, sister. He may be your patient, but he's my little brother and I can put my boots wherever I damn well please."

"Sister!" The nurse glared at him, her eyes heavy with insult.

Dean grinned again and crossed his arms over his chest as he leaned back. "Oh, I'm sorry. How about Nurse Pain-in-my..."

"Ch... charming the nurses... as usual?"

"Sam!" Dean rocked forward, dropping his feet to the floor with a thump at the soft sound of his brother's voice. His face lit with a wide smile, and he reached up to palm the side of Sam's head as his eyes slowly opened. "Hey, buddy. How you doin'?"

Sam waited for his vision to adjust and managed a smile up at his brother before looking over to the nurse. "He's not always a jerk." Their voices had pulled him finally out of the half sleep he'd been drifting in. Dean's voice in particular had drawn him back to make sure his big brother was alright.

"I withhold judgement on that," The nurse said with a severe look at Dean, and then her face softened as she leaned forward to adjust the narrow tube running under Sam's nose and feeding him oxygen. "How do you feel, young man? Any pain?"

Sam shook his head carefully. "Feel kinda loopy."

Dean chuckled and patted his shoulder softly. "They got you on the good stuff."

The nurse smiled and checked her patient's vitals as she spoke. "We've set your right wrist. The surgery went very well."

"Surgery?" Sam asked in surprise and looked over to his brother.

"Dude, that guy who jumped you?" Dean quirked a brow to let Sam know they were going with the random mugging story. "Your wrist was a mess. They had to put it back together."

"You have three pins in your wrist now, Sam." The nurse told him and smiled again as she patted his good arm. "Don't worry. They're small. Won't even set off a metal detector at the airport. And with the pins, your recovery time should be much faster." She tapped a light finger on the cast now covering his right arm from elbow to hand. "This should be able to come off in three or four weeks depending on how quickly you heal. The doctor will be in later to explain it all to you."

Sam groaned and closed his eyes. "I just got that off."

"Don't worry about it, kiddo." Dean waited for Sam's eyes to open and pulled a Sharpie out of his pocket. "I get to practice my art skills all over again!"

"Nurse? Can security take the marker away from my brother? Please?" Sam looked up at her with his best puppy dog eyes and the nurse couldn't help but laugh.

Her gaze softened as she watched the brothers interact and decided she didn't hate the older one quite so much, given how well he handled his younger brother. "I'll just see if I can't bribe them to hide the markers."

Dean grinned up at her and waved as she left. "Knew she couldn't stay mad at me forever. She secretly likes me."

Sam laughed and rolled his head toward Dean. "So's that it? M'ok?"

"Yeah, well, you got a mild concussion and the backs of your legs look like a Rorschach test, what with all the bruising." Dean shrugged. "All in all, not too bad. Might even break you outta here tomorrow."

"Could go now," Sam said quickly and started to try and push himself up.

"Knock it off." Dean put a hand to the center of Sam's chest and pushed until his brother collapsed back into the bed. "Not goin' anywhere tonight. Just lay back and enjoy the morphine, dude. Meantime, I'm gonna go find some coffee and maybe draw on nurse grumpy-pants desk."

Sam chuckled and nodded with his eyes closed. "M'kay."

"Lightweight," Dean said affectionately.

Sam felt his brother pat his chest heavily and listened to the sound of his boots moving away and out the door. He took a deep breath and then another and felt something shift on his chest. Sam opened his eyes and looked down and they widened in surprise. Sitting atop his chest and looking at him was a scale model of an Ankylosaurus.

Sam couldn't stop the goofy grin that spread over his face as he brought his left hand up and gently picked up the little figure. He began to chuckle even as tears gathered in the corners of his eyes and he held the little dinosaur in his closed fist gently. "Best big brother ever," he whispered and let the painkillers start to lure him back to sleep with his protector.

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The End.

Next Chapter: C is for Claustrophobia... and probably Cattle Prods as well. Heh.