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

Author: Disasteriffic Kaz

Info: A collection of 1 Shot Reward Fics for Prompters of my Reader's Special: Second Edition. Features many seasons, hurt/limp/awesome/caring!Sam/Dean/John/Bobby See each chapter for specific info for each 1 shot reward fic.

Author's Note: The Reader's Special: Third Edition was a smashing success! Prompters of the story were offered a One Shot Reward story of their choice. These are they. None of the chapters contained in this collection are connected. Each one is a stand-alone one shot per the Prompters request. Thank you to all of you who prompted the Reader's Special! You were fantastic as always!

Chapter Info: For JaniceC678 – …Sam and Dean, bruised and battered from a rough hunt need downtime, show up at Bobby's unannounced and find Sylvie is visiting. While there, guys take a simple case. Both end up trapped/prisoner/whatever. When they don't come back, Bobby and Sylvie to the rescue…

A/N: I love that others love Sylvie as much as I do and thank you Janice for letting me play with her one more time! :D

Do please Review once you've read. :D Every comment and vote of support helps keep me writing. Not to mention if I've pooched anything, someone can always tell me. :P

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Sam groaned under the weight of his brother hanging off his left arm. "Dude…you're not walk…walking again."

Dean jerked his head up from the half-doze he'd slipped into. "Sorry." He got his legs under him again. He wrinkled his nose, smelling something burning and looked up. "Oh, sh…shit. Hang on." He twisted around with his other arm and slapped the back of Sam's head.

"Ow! Dammit, Dean!"

Dean snickered. "Hair was on fire."

"You enjoyed that way too much." Sam reached his right arm up and hissed out a pained breath, letting it drop back down as he swayed. "Ow. Damn."

Dean took more of his own weight. "You gonna live?"

Sam nodded. "Unfortunately." He decided this was the last time he let Dean talk him into taking a flamethrower after a family of ghouls. Dean had roasted three of them before it had malfunctioned when he'd tossed it and resorted to the shotgun while Sam was severing heads. The flaming ghouls, however, didn't have the decency to die right away. Instead they flailed around the catacomb, setting everything they touched alight, and they'd finally had to run to escape the immolation while the ghouls screamed and finally got around to actually dying. Add to that the number of times they had both been tossed around and, in Dean's case, had his head slammed into a coffin…they were not in a good way.

"I'm driving," Dean said suddenly.

Sam laughed softly. "No you're not. You can't even see straight."

"You can't w-walk straight." Dean glared at his feet, aware he was seeing quite a few more than he should be and not liking it one bit. "Flamethrower was almost a good idea."

"No. It wasn't." Sam rolled his eyes. "And I don't need to walk straight to drive straight," he added as they reached the car and made his brother get in the passenger seat, prying the keys out of his hand. He staggered around to the driver's side and got behind the wheel carefully. His ribs on the right side protested the motion, and his arm…if it wasn't broken, it was one hell of a sprain. As it was, he had to fumble the keys into the ignition left-handed.

"And I shouldn't be driving?" Dean rolled his eyes and groaned as his head spun in response.

"We need some down time." Sam said as he backed out of the graveyard.

"Both hands on the wheel, dammit!" Dean growled. "Ten and two, Sammy. Ten…and two!"

Sam snorted. "Not with this arm. Call Bobby? We could use a place to heal up."

Dean glared over at him as well as he could manage, and got his phone out. "Pain in my ass." He hit the speed dial for Bobby and listened to it ring.

"Singer." Bobby's gruff voice answered, sounding as though he'd been woken up.

"Bobby. Sam got us a little banged up. We need some down time at your place." Dean grinned and pointed to his head to remind his brother he was concussed before Sam punched him.

"You're an ass," Sam grumbled and focused on the road.

"How bad you hurt?" Bobby asked, knowing full well from Dean's tone that whatever condition they were in was his fault rather than Sam's. He knew them too well.

"Sam's driving," Dean said by way of explanation.

Bobby snorted. "That bad? Fine, You can…what the?"

"Bobby?" Dean sat up as he heard the sound of something breaking in the background and then the line went dead. "Bobby!" He looked down at his phone and over at Sam.

"What?" Sam stared at him, confused.

"Floor it. Something's up." Dean re-dialed Bobby and growled when no connection was made. "Dammit. Heard something weird, like a struggle maybe, and the line died."

The Impala's engine roared louder as Sam pressed on the gas, his own injuries forgotten in concern for their adoptive father. "Just keep trying him. Try one of the other lines."

"Already am." Dean was on his fourth bogus law enforcement line, all going directly to Bobby's kitchen, before he finally gave up and tossed his phone to the floor of the car. "All dead." He glanced over and saw Sam was as grim-faced as he was.

"It's Bobby. He'll be fine." Sam nodded, trying to reassure himself as much as his brother. "He can handle whatever it is."

"Maybe," Dean muttered. It was still too soon after losing Dad. He couldn't even consider the thought of something happening to Bobby; they needed him too much.

Four and a half hours later, Sam turned into Singer Salvage with a white-knuckled grip on the wheel. They had driven through a hellacious storm to get there, rather than stop and wait it out like he wanted to. His own vision was blurring thanks to his ribs and his inability to take a deep breath. He needed to lie down and Dean…Dean was snoring into the passenger window, sleeping off his mild concussion. Sam eased the car to a stop in front of the house. He hissed in a breath, having forgotten for a moment and reaching for Dean with his right hand. He pulled it in against him and got out, staggering around to the passenger side instead.

"Dean." Sam pulled the door open, careful not to let Dean fall out face first, and propped his brother up with his good arm. "Wake up. We're here."

"Wha…" Dean's eyes snapped open and then back shut as a splitting headache pounded at him.

"Bobby's." Sam turned his head as the wind drove a sheet of rain into his face. "Lights are out." He looked down at his brother, not liking his pale face. "You should stay here. I can handle this."

That snapped Dean out of his haze and he straightened in the seat, pushing off Sam's supporting hand. "It's ok. I got this."

Sam rolled his eyes while Dean stood, swayed, and steadied himself on the door. "Uh-huh. I can see that."

"Shotguns."

"Just…try not to fall over." Sam groaned and went around to the trunk. He pulled out two shotguns loaded with rock salt and closed it quietly. Dean ambled around the side of the car to him and took his, getting his hand around it on the second try. "Dude, you're concussed. Sit this ou…"

"It's Bobby, Sam," Dean said darkly and looked up at the house they had more or less grown up in, at least as much as they had any place they could call "home" from the time Sam was six months old. "Let's do this." He worked hard to walk in a straight line to the porch, satisfied when he only wobbled once, and stood beside the door as Sam came up beside him and took the handle. Sam raised a brow at him, Dean gave a nod, and Sam yanked it open to rush inside with Dean at his back.

Sam swept through the short hall in the dark and followed the flicker of candlelight into the living room. He dropped the muzzle of the shotgun down, slammed a hand over his eyes, and groaned. "Holy crap!"

"What? Bobby?" Dean rushed in beside him and stared, shocked. Their adoptive father was sprawled on the beat up couch with none other than Sylvie, the retired hunter, sprawled on top of him and barely keeping her shirt on. "I didn't see this. Nope. Not seein' it."

"Boys, what the hell?" Bobby shouted and moved a laughing Sylvie off his chest and onto the couch as he stood. "Don't you idjits know how to knock?"

"Oh man." Sam lowered his hand, relieved to see Sylvie had pulled her shirt closed. "Uh…we uh, we couldn't get a hold of you and we thought you'd been attacked…or something."

"Looks like he was bein' attacked." Dean rolled his eyes and then swayed slightly. "Attacked by the naughty hunter lady."

Sam snorted and shoved Dean into the chair next to the door. "Sit already."

Bobby glared at them. "Damn storm knocked the power and the phones out! Ya still coulda –"

"Oh, stop yelling at the boys, Bobby." Sylvie stood and cast a critical eye over them, assessing their levels of injury and settled on Sam who had his left hand wrapped around the right side of his chest and his right arm just hanging with the shotgun dangling at the end like he didn't know what to do with it. "Sam." She went and took his arm, pulling him over to the couch and pushed him down.

"Oh, I really don't think I wanna sit here now," Sam smirked up at Bobby. "You have a cleansing ritual?"

"Sylvie, what are you even doing here?" Dean asked and tried to shake Bobby off when the older Hunter came over and grabbed his chin. "Didn't we leave you in Boone?"

Sylvie sighed. "Honestly, I needed to get out of there for a while. After Jeanne…" She trailed off with a far-a-way look, remembering her goddaughter who had killed so many and that she had had to kill. She wasn't sure she was ever going to be alright with that but Bobby made one hell of a distraction. "Bobby and I have been chatting on the phone, so, when I needed to get away…" She gave a small shrug.

"I'm sorry." Sam told her softly and smiled to match the soft one she turned on him.

"Pretty sure I've already told you…more than once…you have nothing to be sorry for, Sam." Sylvie smoothed a hand over his cheek and then pulled the shotgun away. "Now, what's happened to you two?"

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"They should have called by now." Sylvie took the mug of whiskey-laced coffee Bobby handed her and stared at the phones lined up on his wall, begging one of them to ring.

"It's a salt and burn." Bobby shrugged and sat beside her. "Doesn't get any easier than that."

Sylvie scowled at him. "If it's so simple then how come they aren't back yet?" She raised her brows at him. "They're an hour away. They should be back. We shouldn't have let them go out so soon. It's only been two days."

Bobby chuckled and slid one arm over her shoulders while he took his phone out of his pocket with the other. "Didn't take 'em long to get under your skin, did it?"

"Oh, shut up and call, Singer," Sylvie bumped him with her shoulder and sipped her 100 proof coffee with a laugh. He was right. She had all but adopted the Winchester boys in her time with them. Truthfully, she couldn't understand how anyone could know them and not love them. They were amazing people, and that was in no little part because of the man who had helped raise them. She smiled fondly at Bobby's frowning face.

"Huh. Dean ain't answerin' his phone." Bobby quickly dialed Sam's, listening to it ring. The first thread of worry wormed its way into his heart as Sam's phone went to voicemail as well. "Balls." He glanced over at Sylvie. "Ok, now I'm worried." He groaned and gave her shoulders a squeeze as he stood up. "Well? You comin'?"

Sylvie laughed. "Like you could stop me."

"Been a while since you were on a hunt, you know." Bobby smirked at her as he passed her to the hall. "You could be rusty."

"Rusty, my ass," Sylvie mock-growled and planted a firm slap on Bobby's ass, going around him to open the door. "Let's go find your boys…assuming you can keep up."

"Oh, woman, you're gonna pay for that." Bobby said happily and followed her outside to his truck.

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Sylvie studied the old, sprawling house in the moonlight as she and Bobby passed around it to the small graveyard at its back. It was four stories of falling down, dilapidated splendor. Even the eyrie on the roof was canted to the side and covered in green vines. "Who builds a place like this and lets it go to seed?"

"Some eccentric writer back in the sixties." Bobby glanced up at the house and snorted. "Dude was off his damn rocker. Started walling up his servants in the cellar…alive."

"Yikes." Sylvie shivered. "Is that who the boys are here to take care of?"

Bobby nodded and waved toward the little cemetery plot ahead of them. "They didn't even have to go in the house so I don't get it." He shined his flashlight on the small collection of headstones and hopped over the low fence.

"Back there." Sylvie took his elbow and pulled. She could clearly see a fresh pile of earth by a stone in the back and sighed with concern as they neared; two shovels lay tossed to the ground beside an open grave. The coffin in the bottom had been cleared off and the lid partially pried up. "Bobby." She set her hand on the headstone above a dark, glistening blood stain.

"Balls." Bobby peered around the expansive back lawn, hoping to see Dean and Sam somewhere and felt his guts twist when he didn't. "Alright." He dropped his bag and then climbed down into the grave. "Gimme one of those shovels."

"What if they're…" Sylvie started but Bobby cut her off.

"Wherever they are, we're gonna toast this son of a bitch first." Bobby took the shovel she handed down and slammed the point into the lid of the coffin. "Make sure he ain't…screwin' with 'em…while we look." He bent once he had more of the lid loose and pried it up to reveal the skeleton beneath. He jerked his head up as a shotgun went off.

"Keep going," Sylvie informed him calmly and smiled. "I don't think he wants to move on."

Bobby grinned and pulled his duffel over to the edge, taking out the salt. "Tough shit." He upended the container over the bones and then climbed out with a helping hand from Sylvie. He grinned again as she pulled him up with one hand and blasted the spirit again with the other. "You are one sexy lady, Sylvie." Sylvie laughed and winked at him. Bobby took the lighter fluid from the bag and squeezed it liberally over the remains.

Sylvie had to admit that, even as worried as she was about the boys, it was damn exhilarating to be on the job again with a gun in her hand. She looked over at Bobby and smiled…even better with a handsome, scruffy man at her side. She lowered the gun as flames roared to life in the grave. "So…cellar?"

Bobby nodded. "Cellar." He picked up his bag and climbed back over the fence, heading for the house. "Old habits don't change, even when you're dead." They jogged across the lawn to the house side by side and he kept a lid on the fear; wondering what the old, dead bastard had done to his boys to take them both out at once.

"They'll be alright," Sylvie assured him softly as they climbed through a smashed set of French doors into the house. "Nothin' those boys do better than taking care of each other."

Bobby snorted and rolled his eyes. "You got no idea." He took his flashlight back out and flicked it on in the main hall. "There. Cellar access under the stairs." He yanked the door open and led the way down the stairs. "Dean? Sam?" He shouted as they reached the bottom.

"How extensive is the cellar?" Sylvie looked back and forth down the hall at the bottom of the stairs.

"Length of the house." Bobby shrugged. "So…big. You take left?"

Sylvie nodded and turned down the hall. "Boys? Can you hear us?" There was only one door at the end of the hall, and she pushed it open, taking out her own flashlight. "Dean?"

"Sam!" Bobby shouldered open an old door, glancing over his shoulder to see Sylvie step out of sight at the other end of the hall. He shook himself to settle his nerves; the ghost was toast. "Dean?"

"Bobby!"

He spun at Sylvie's shout and ran to the other end of the hall. "Sylvie? You alright?" Her voice held a note of fear that made him nervous. He ran through the open door and found her pressed against a brick wall.

"They're in here! I heard Dean. Dean?" Sylvie kept her ear to the wall as Bobby joined her and took her arm.

"Son of a bitch walled them in," Bobby growled. He shined his light and saw a large hammer on the floor. He scooped it up and went back to the wall, putting his ear to the wall as he heard Dean's voice calling. "We're coming! Move back if you can!"

Dean dropped his head in relief and tightened his arms around his brother. "Bobby's here, Sammy. We're gonna be ok." He got a low moan in response that didn't help to settle his nerves. It was pitch black in their prison, and he'd only been able to feel the blood and open gash on his brother's head. He couldn't tell how bad it was, but the fact that Sam had yet to actually wake up all the way scared the crap out of him. He remembered the sickening sound when the ghost had thrown Sam into the tombstone with a shiver. It was the last thing he could recall, and still had no idea how they'd ended up in the damn cellar, much less buried alive inside the wall.

He huddled over Sam, shielding his head with his own shoulders as the first chips of brick and mortar flew from the wall. Dean squinted in the sudden flash of light and looked up, grinning at the widening hole in the wall. "What took you so long?" He called.

Bobby pulled out a few more bricks and put his head through with the light. "Dean?" His eyes widened as Dean leaned back and he got a look at Sam's head. There was far too much red down the side of his face and shirt. "Shit! He alright?"

"I dunno. You got a spare light?" Dean reached up and grabbed the one Bobby handed to him, shining it down on his brother's head. He hissed in a breath. "Gonna need some stitches for sure." The gash ran from his right temple back into his hairline. Dean plucked Sam's eyelids open, his frown deepening as his pupils seemed slow to react to the light. "Think this is gonna require a hospital, Bobby."

"He'll be fine. Have you out in a minute." Bobby pulled his head back and went at the wall again.

"Sam?" Sylvie asked softly, holding her own light for Bobby to work by.

"Head wound," Bobby replied gruffly and swung the hammer into the wall harder.

Sylvie swallowed her own fear, keeping the light steady and looked at the spots of blood on her fingers from where she'd touched the headstone, knowing now that it was Sam's. "We should have made them stay until they were healed up."

"They've had worse…and…done the job." Bobby grunted with the effort of breaking the wall apart. Even as he defended the decision to let them go off on a job with a concussion, bruised ribs and a sprained arm between the two of them, he felt guilty for not making them sit still for a few more days at least.

"Well, they're sure as hell taking a few days off now," Sylvie said angrily and moved to look into the hole now that Bobby had it almost large enough to get them out. "I'll tie them both down if I have to."

Bobby chuckled and tossed the hammer aside. "That I'd pay to see. Ok, boys." He climbed into the wall and knelt beside them. "He pass out again?" he asked, brushing a hand through the blood-heavy, dark hair on Sam's forehead.

"He hasn't woken up yet," Dean said softly and met Bobby's eyes with fear plain in his own though he kept his voice steady. "Didn't think anything could crack his egg-head."

Bobby smiled and nodded. "Let's get him up and outta here." He kept a close eye on Dean as they pulled Sam up carefully between them but didn't see any sign that he was reinjured.

"Stop starin' at me," Dean growled and rolled his eyes. "I don't know how Casper got the drop on me, ok?"

"Oh. good grief," Sylvie groaned as they dragged Sam out through the wall. She handed Bobby her light and took Sam's face in her hands, lifting it up to get a good look at the wound. "Definitely going to the E.R. for this. He could have a skull fracture."

"He ain't gonna be happy when he wakes up." Bobby smirked. "Neither one of these idjits is fond of hospitals."

"Hey, I like 'em just fine." Dean smirked and pulled Sam's arm more securely over his shoulders. "Long as the nurses are hot, I'm good."

Sylvie rolled her eyes. "Men."

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Sam groaned as Sylvie stuffed another pillow behind his back and handed him a bowl of soup. "Really, Sylvie. I'm fine." He smiled tightly up at her and made himself sit still as she fiddled with the bandage on his forehead again.

Dean walked in behind her and chuckled, relieved to see Sam awake and alert at the same time even if he was adding irritated to the list. "You could always fend her off with your brace."

Sam raised his right arm and waved it at his brother instead. "Could beat your ass with it." His sprained arm had become a hairline fracture.

"You'd be happier if you'd actually take the pain medication the hospital gave you," Sylvie pointed out in a saccharine sweet voice and tapped the bandage on his head firmly. She smiled when he moaned and dropped his head back.

"That…wasn't fair." Sam gasped and slammed his eyes shut to ride out the fresh headache.

"Hey." Dean jumped over to the couch with a glare for Sylvie. He liked the woman a lot but no one was allowed to cause his little brother pain except him.

Sylvie showed him no fear and chuckled. "Maybe you can make him take them." She pulled a bottle out of her pocket and tossed it to Dean.

He caught it one-handed with a rattle and sat next to his brother on the couch. Dean looked up at Sylvie and rolled his eyes when she planted her fists on her hips and stared at him. "Geez, lady. Alright."

"I wouldn't argue with her, son." Bobby came into the living room and handed her a cup of coffee while glaring down at his boys. "Betcher ass neither one of ya are gettin' out that door again 'til she's sure you're fightin' fit."

"I think we're…being managed," Sam muttered softly, careful not to raise his voice and make his head pound worse.

"Think you're right." Dean shook his head, amused, and shook two pills out of the bottle. "Guess you oughta stop pissing them off then, huh?"

"Shut up." Sam gave him a pathetic version of a glare, but took the pills. Sylvie had made it painfully clear that he wasn't as 'fine' as he insisted he was.

"I think we can leave the kids alone to play nice now," Sylvie said and turned to Bobby with a smile. She trailed a hand along his jaw with a suggestive wink. "Don't know about you, Bobby, but I could use some grown-up time."

"Oh…my god." Sam clapped his hands over his ears. "I did NOT hear that."

"Aw, COME on!" Dean groaned loudly and covered his eyes as Bobby grabbed a handful of Sylvie's ass and led her out of the room laughing. "That's just wrong!"

"This is what walking in on your parents having sex is like, isn't it?" Sam shuddered and took his pills, swallowing them dry. "Can I have two more? I really want to be unconscious for what comes next."

Dean turned to stare up the stairs where they had vanished and shook himself. "I hear one moan and I'll carry you to the car. No way we're listenin' to Bobby getting his freak on."

Both men cussed as the first loud giggle floated down the stairs. "Shit. No way." Sam struggled to push himself up. "I…did not need to hear Bobby…giggle."

Dean was caught between horror and laughter and finally gave in to the laugh, pushing Sam back down on the couch. "He's old, dude. How long can it last?"

Sam groaned theatrically and threw an arm over his eyes. "I don't even want to consider it."

Another very un-Bobby like laugh filtered down to them following by a very obvious moan from Sylvie, and Dean changed his mind. He pulled Sam carefully up, propping him against his shoulder and grabbing a pillow. "Garage. You can lay in the backseat while I work on my baby."

"Deal." Sam let Dean get him to his feet and closed his eyes. "Must go faster." A very clear male voice was now moaning. "Really…faster, dude."

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The End.

I'm still waiting to receive prompts from these wonderful people. If your name is on the list, please review or PM me with your prompt for your One Shot Reward: Any season, anything. Your wish is my command for your help making the Third Edition as fun as the First and the Second. :D

Brielle-W
Doctor's Other Companion
ElizaT
Hinfallend
KKBELVIS
Linneast
LynnHarpoeth
N008137
ruby

Please Only send me a prompt if your name is ON the list. This is not an open call for ideas. The people above have earned a one shot of their choice for contributing to the Reader's Special. If you missed your chance...better get in on the fun next time!