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 Kelisem - So, Dean kept in touch with Sam during Sam's first two years at Stanford...what made him stop?

A/N: I admit, I drew a blank on what to with this when I first looked at it, so I poked my awesome friend and equally awesome author Xenascully for inspiration and this piece became a collaborative effort. Lol
So! This is set first season and hopefully is everything you were hoping for. We certainly had fun with it. :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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Dean pulled open another morgue drawer and peered inside. "Yech. Don't think this is our guy."

"Why?" Sam looked up from the stack of forms he was digging through.

"Still got his head." Dean smirked and shut the door, moving on to the next. "What kind of coroner doesn't keep a damn list of who's in which drawer?"

Sam chuckled. "The small town kind, apparently. Man, this guy's handwriting is awful."

Dean snorted and pulled out the tray. "Oh, here we go. Likely candidate." He tugged it out further, revealing a man's body covered in a sheet without his head.

Sam set the forms aside and went for a look. "The article said he had a tattoo on his uh…well, near his…"

"Dude, I'm not checking a dead guy's junk. You do it." Dean waved an arm over the sheet and stepped back.

"No way!" Sam glared at him. "You found the stupid case. You look!"

"I found the case, means I'm in charge," Dean said with a grin and backed away toward the door. "I'll just keep a look-out for ya, Sammy."

"It's Sam. Dammit." Sam groaned and grimaced at the body. He took hold of the edge of the sheet. "You better be the right one." He lifted the sheet, ignoring the snicker from his brother, and did his best to only look with one eye. He dropped it hastily and backed away rubbing his eyes. "God, ok, yeah; that's him. That is just…wrong."

Dean laughed and came back, pulling a silver knife from under his jacket. "Ok. So, we just gotta pierce the heart and this thing stays dead, right?"

Sam nodded and waved a hand. "Knock yourself out."

Dean slid the silver blade into the dead man's chest, expertly finding the heart. "And stay down, jackass." He pulled the blade back out and wiped it clean before pulling the sheet back in place and pushed the body back with a slam of the door. "Oughta be a law against mutant ghouls." This was their third - and he hoped final - time that they'd have to kill the thing.

"Come on, before someone catches us." Sam held the door open for him.

"Afraid they'll catch you ogling the dead guy's family jewels?" Dean grinned and ducked out the door while Sam rolled his eyes.

"Whatever." Sam pulled the door shut behind them.

They turned a corner, and Dean bumped into a man in a white coat. "Crap. Sorry, doc." Dean smiled and stepped away.

"Dean?" the doctor said in surprise.

"Say what now?" Dean turned to look at him with Sam at his side. "Do I know you?" He looked carefully at the man's face. He was older, with a head of curly blonde hair going silver and round glasses. Dean narrowed his eyes as something tickled at the back of his mind.

"You know him?" Sam asked his brother and then put a hand on his shoulder; Dean looked dazed. "Dean? Are you alright?"

The doctor chuckled. "I suppose I'm not surprised you'd have trouble remembering me."

"I…who are you?" Recognition was flitting at the edges of his memory as the man spoke, and he got the distinct feeling that he didn't want Sam to know about this guy.

"I'm Doctor Fleinhart. It was…oh, about three years ago now." He reached over and took Dean's hand, giving it a shake. "After your accident?"

"Wait. You must have him confused with someone else." Sam smiled and shook his head. "He wasn't in any accident."

The memories struck Dean like a train, literally making him stagger back a step. "Shit."

"Whoa, ok. He needs to sit. Here." Dr. Fleinhart took Dean's arm and pulled him to a chair, pushing him into it.

"Dean?" Sam knelt in front of him and watched his brother blink up at him. "What's going on?"

"Just a memory flash. He'll be fine in a moment. You are?" Dr. Fleinhart looked over at Sam curiously.

"I'm his brother." Sam studied the man. "How do you know him?"

"His…brother?" The doctor looked confused. "I didn't think…"

"Sammy." Dean leaned forward and used his brother's shoulder to push to his feet. "It's fine. I'm good. Doc, uh…good seein' ya. Let's go."

"Dean, maybe you should…" Sam started, but Dean just pulled him along, leaving the doctor staring after them in surprise.

"We're going." Dean's head was pounding, and he did not want to have this conversation in the middle of a hospital.

"Three years ago," Sam said as he followed his brother and frowned. "I was at Stanford. What accident, Dean? What happened?" He pulled on Dean's elbow to stop him at the doors.

"Not here, alright?" Dean barely managed to keep his voice below a yell. "Just…wait, dammit."

Sam stared after him as Dean slammed out the doors and jogged to catch up. He followed his brother's angry stalk to the Impala. "Dean, dammit. You need to talk to me. How do you have an accident and I don't know about it?"

"Get in the car, Sam." Dean opened his door and slid behind the wheel, then just sat there staring out.

"Two years," Sam said softly as he climbed in. "This is why you didn't talk to me all that time, isn't it? What the hell happened to you? And why didn't you tell me?"

Dean squeezed his hands on the wheel and closed his eyes. "Me and Dad, we were after this wendigo, um…" He looked around as if seeing things for the first time and snorted. "Couple towns over from here, wow." He shook his head and leaned back in the seat. "Wasn't an accident. Dad said big ugly got a lucky shot in and slammed me into a tree," Dean shrugged. "I don't remember. I remember pulling into town, and then…then I woke up in the hospital."

"How long?" Sam asked softly. "How long were you out? Days?"

Dean met his brother's concerned eyes finally and gave him a lopsided smile as he ran a hand through his hair. "Longer. It was, uh…I was out for a…a year."

Sam's mouth dropped open and he stared, shocked speechless for a moment. He couldn't wrap his mind around his brother being in a coma for a year. "A…a year." Sam swallowed hard while Dean watched him. "You were…in a coma…for a year. A year?"

Dean shrugged again and smiled. "You know, I was saving that story for the next time I needed to persuade you, you owed me." He laughed. "Then I forgot."

"You FORGOT? What the hell, Dean? How do you just forget that?" Sam yelled, unable to keep his temper.

"Well, it WAS a head injury, Sam. That kinda happens." Dean smirked at Sam's irate face. "Besides, I was planning on using it as leverage. You should be glad I forgot too."

"It's not funny!" Sam shouted and slammed a fist into the dash. "Why the hell didn't Dad contact me? My brother is in a coma for a YEAR and no one bothers to tell me 'Hey, you might wanna come see your brother since we're not sure he's ever gonna wake up.'?"

Dean snorted and looked away from him as the memories came back. "As far as Dad was concerned, you didn't care."

"That's bullshit! Fucking selfish fucking bastard!" Sam lost it. His brother had been on his damn deathbed and their father had cut him out?

"Hey! Don't talk about Dad like that!" Dean yelled back, his humor at the whole thing forgotten as the familiar anger with Sam and his attitude toward Dad took over.

Sam glared at him. "Fuck you, Dean! He had NO right to make that decision for me." He stabbed a finger into his brother's shoulder. "If that'd been me and he didn't call you, you'd kill him!

That stung Dean's temper into rage. "Yeah, Sam? Well, difference is I wouldn't have left and let that happen in the first place!" His voice echoed in the small space for a second.

The car grew silent as Sam looked away, forcing his gaze out the window with a mixture of anger and regret as the temper was sucked out of him with Dean's words. His eyes stung with tears he couldn't stop, even though none of this had been his fault. He'd wanted a normal life. He'd left to try and have that and as much as he knew it could never happen now, he didn't know it then. He couldn't have known…

"Dude…" Dean's voice broke the silence. His own words cooled his temper and he sat, shocked at himself for saying such a thing. His voice was softer now. "Sam? Look…I shouldn't have said that." Dean's tone was filled with regret. "It wasn't your fault."

"No. It wasn't," Sam whispered in an attempt to hide his current emotional state. He kept his face to the window.

"Are you…" Dean stared hard at the back of his brother's head. "Sammy, are you crying?"

"Just…shut up." Sam's own voice was hoarse with grief. "Goddammit, Dean."

"I'm sorry." Dean reached out, his hand hovering over his brother's shoulder and suddenly wasn't sure Sam would even want him to touch him. "I should never have told you." He saw Sam's shoulders jerk.

"Fuck you." Sam's head spun back around to look at his brother, no longer caring about the tears tracking down his face. "Fuck all of this!" He shoved the car door open and got out as Dean called his name.

"Son of a bitch!" Dean hit the steering wheel as Sam stomped off across the parking lot. He growled and got out, watching over the roof as Sam stopped and threw a punch at the side of a parked van. He cringed. "Ow. That's gonna hurt later," He muttered. Dean sighed heavily and rubbed a hand over his aching skull. Memory flashes were officially going on his list of least favorite things, especially when they screwed up his relationship with his brother. He knew exactly what bullshit was flying through Sam's head right now. His little brother was over there fuming and wondering if his family even wanted him around…ever.

"Dammit." Dean pushed away from the car and walked across the lot. He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to relieve the pressure building behind his eyes. Maybe he should have taken a minute to talk to the doctor…Dean stopped and his brows rose. He snorted softly. "I forgot his name…again." He shook his head and approached Sam cautiously. "Sammy?"

"It's Sam!" Sam yelled back reflexively.

Dean cringed at his brother's tear-stained face and the fresh tears joining the old even as Sam glared daggers at him. "Alright, take it easy, would'ja?" He raised both hands in surrender and was glad there was no one else outside to witness their little Oprah moment. "I'm sorry, Sam. I am. I mean it."

"What about the other year?" Sam asked suddenly, angrily.

"Huh? What…"

"You were in a coma for a year, Dean." Sam kicked the van's tire and winced, regretting it as the force travelled up to his hip painfully. "You didn't contact me for two years. Two."

Dean groaned. He wrapped a hand around his pounding head and leaned against the van. "I couldn't remember."

"Remember what?" Sam bit the words out and wiped roughly at his face.

"You. Dad." Dean rolled his eyes and instantly regretted that when it drove his headache to another level. "Sammy, I couldn't remember my own damn name when I woke up, alright?" Most of that year was spotty at best for him. "You remember when I came to get you, I said I'd been on a job down south on my own?" Sam nodded and Dean smiled. "That was the first time Dad let me out of his sight, and, man, I had to fight him for that." He snorted and slid down so he was sitting against the van, letting his eyes close and head fall back against it with a thump. "Guess he decided I was finally together enough to take off and leave me, huh?"

Sam did remember that conversation and that, at the time, he hadn't understood Dean's sudden defensiveness when he'd commented about Dad letting him hunt alone. Now it made sense. The anger cleared enough finally for him to look at his brother, and, when he did, he didn't like what he saw. Dean was pale and his eyes were pressed shut in what looked like pain. "Dean." Sam knelt next to him. He turned and sat beside Dean, thumping his back into the van so their shoulders touched.

"Dad didn't know if I'd remember you," Dean said suddenly, softly. "I think…I think once I did come around, he didn't want you to…" He twitched his shoulders in a shrug. "I think he didn't want to put you through that." Dean opened his eyes and rolled his head to look at him. "Sam, you were out. Whatever else you think, dude, Dad was…he was proud."

Sam snorted in disbelief but didn't say anything. His tears were finally drying and the anger leaving as he started to truly consider what Dean had gone through with no memory, and then when he had remembered… "Do you ever think…what it'd be like if you never remembered? You know…me, us, this life." Sam asked quietly and watched his face. "You could have been Joe America somewhere putting cars together."

"No way," Dean shook his head and gave Sam a glare of his own. "It wouldn't have been real, Sammy. This is who I am. I'm your brother. And this?" He waved a hand to indicate their lives in general. "This is all I want. You and me and my baby on the road, hunting things."

"Saving people." Sam added with a small smile.

Dean nodded and quirked a brow at him. "Family business, Sammy."

Sam stared at the ground between his feet, thinking. "I still wish you'd told me." He blew out a breath. "That Dad had told me. My leaving NEVER meant I stopped caring about you." He glanced over at Dean quickly and then away again. "You're my brother, Dean. Something happens to you…I need to know."

"This gonna be a new rule?" Dean smirked, sensing that the tension had been broken and his brother had forgiven him. Sam was like that. Dean thought it made him the best of them. Where he and Dad would hold a grudge 'til hell froze over, Sam could forgive anyone almost anything. He smirked, except for Dad; his little brother's one blind spot in the forgiveness department.

Sam nodded. "You end up in a coma, I get a call." He looked back up at Dean and smiled. "Now, how about you give me the keys and I drive?"

Dean snorted. "You drive my baby?" He shook his head as Sam stood and took his arm, pulling him to his feet. "You punched the dash. Driving privileges revoked, Sammy."

"Your head's splitting. Gimme the keys." Sam put a hand out imperiously, brows raised, and waited.

In the interests of not blowing their newfound peace, Dean groaned and took out the keys. "I'm only doing this 'cause I could use a nap. Not 'cause you're right."

Sam plucked the keys from his hand with a chuckle. "Sure. Keep telling yourself that." He turned and headed across the lot to the Impala.

"How's your hand?" Dean asked and grabbed his brother's right hand, whistling at the swollen, red knuckles. "I'm sure the van had it coming."

"Shut up." Sam pulled his hand away and rolled his eyes. "Jerk."

"Bitch," Dean laughed and opened the passenger door. He dropped into the seat, pulled the door closed and let his head fall back to the seat. It was still throbbing in time with his heart.

Sam climbed behind the wheel and started the car. He looked over at Dean and sighed. "I'm sorry I wasn't there."

"You were right where you should'a been, dude." Dean smiled, not opening his eyes. "Wasn't your fault, and you bein' there wouldn't have changed anything." He rolled his eyes under his lids and mentally kicked himself for what he was about to say. "Dad told me, after I remembered finally…he said the first word I spoke when I woke up was…it was 'Sam'." It killed him admitting that, but, as he glanced over at his little brother, he decided it was worth the embarrassment for that ridiculous smile on his face. "Don't go all girly on me, dude. If I'd had to go when I woke up, my first word would'a been piss."

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The end.

Up next: Sparkiebunny!