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: Third 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 SPN Mum - I would like to see you write something set in season six, after Sam got his soul back. The case is set in a dog shelter, where some monster (your choice) is attacking the volunteers, so Sam goes undercover as a volunteer, while Dean works with the local police. Sam gets attached to one of the dogs, while one of the volunteers gets attached to Sam. The rest is up to you.
A/N: Here you are dear! Hope you like it! :D My Muse was being anything but cooperative with this one. LOL Thank goodness Janice was around to help unstick me! Enjoy! *hugs*
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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Sam stepped into an empty hallway and pulled his phone from his back pocket. He rolled his eyes when he saw the name and answered it. "What, Dean? I've only been here for two days. No, I haven't found anything yet."
"Whassamatter, Sammy? Undercover work not agreeing with you?" Dean chuckled. "I thought you loved dogs?"
Sam snorted. "I do, but cleaning up after thirty of them is not my idea of how to spend my weekend." He straightened and smiled as another volunteer came down the hall of the shelter. "No reason you can't be the one in here waiting to be attacked."
"I don't have a soft spot for mangy mutts, and someone's gotta play nice with the local cops." Dean grinned. "Have fun scoopin' poop."
Sam growled as Dean hung up on him and slipped his phone away. "Jerk." Something had been attacking volunteers in the dog shelter for over a month. They had ruled out werewolves, which, of course, left a whole slew of things it still could be, including, as Dean had pointed out, a skinwalker posing as a family dog. That had stirred a hazy, vague memory in Sam's mind, but he really couldn't nail it down. It still bothered him when he thought about how much missing time he had and couldn't recall since getting his soul back, but he pushed that thought aside for the moment, since he wasn't supposed to be poking at those missing memories anyway, and got back to the task at hand. So far, no one had died, but there were now seven volunteers who had been hospitalized with injuries, mostly bites of some sort, and all unable to say what had attacked them before they were knocked out.
Sam smiled to himself and went back into the kennel room; they weren't Hunters, of course. He was and had several weapons secreted on himself. He smiled wider as many of the dogs in the kennel whined happily at his return. It really wasn't the worst undercover job ever.
"Hey, Sam!" Melanie waved and smiled at him from the other side of the large room. "Your boyfriend over here needs his shots and won't come out. Could you…"
Sam nodded and chuckled. "Sure, Mel." He went and knelt in front of a large cage and peered in at the dog inside. He was a massive Bernese mountain dog and refused to do anything for anyone except Sam. As he looked, he came to the front of the cage and stuck his nose through the bars, giving his knuckles a lick. Sam laughed. "Ok, Murray. We really need to work on your cooperation skills." He unlatched the cage door and the dog pushed out and into Sam's space, rubbing his head on Sam's face.
"He really likes you." Mel smiled fondly down at the dog that stood as high as her hip. She brushed blonde hair out of her eyes and patted Sam's shoulder. "Bring him upstairs."
"No problem. Come on, Murray." Sam stood and Murray fell in beside his legs, bumping into his knees with every step, and Sam dropped a hand to his head as they went up the stairs behind Melanie.
"He's been here a month and hasn't taken to anyone like he has you." Mel smiled over her shoulder. "You're really good with the dogs."
"Thanks." Sam followed her and waved Murray down the little hall at the top of the stairs, laughing as the big dog pranced to the door and then back to him. "Maybe Murray just has bad taste in people." He chuckled and Melanie rolled her eyes at him.
"Like you're a bad person." Melanie chuckled and pushed open the exam room door.
"Up, Murray." Sam snapped his fingers at the table, and Murray cheerfully hopped onto a chair and then up onto the metal table where he sat and wagged his tail hard enough to slap into the wall. He took the dog's head in his hands and held him steady while Melanie went around behind him to give him his shots. "Good boy. You're a good boy, aren't you, buddy?" Truth was, if he thought for one second Dean would not kill him for it, Sam would make sure Murray came with them. He reminded him of Bobby's dog, and that had been the closest Sam had ever come to having the dog he'd wanted so much growing up. Sam smiled fondly, knowing that Bobby had only gotten that mutt for him in the first place.
"Ok, Murray. All done!" Melanie pulled the needle out of his backside and tossed it in the bin.
Sam ruffed up Murray's ears and let him down. "I'll take him back."
"Oh, Sam! Before I forget." Melanie smiled and brushed a hand up his arm lightly. "Some of us are going out later. It's our little monthly get-together." She laughed and shrugged. "It's no big deal. Just some drinks at a local bar, if you're interested. We'd really like it if you joined us." She brushed his hand with a shy smile. "I'd really like it, but so would the guys, Dave and them. Please?"
Sam considered saying no but he was supposed to be undercover, fitting in. He sighed and smiled. "Sure, Melanie. Sounds like fun."
"Great!" She clapped her hands together. "You can meet us back here at nine. And Sam? Call me Mel. Melanie makes me sound like my grandmother."
Sam laughed at that. "Yes, Mel. See you later." He took Murray out, still chuckling. How bad could it be hanging out with normal people for a night?
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"So, wait." Dean raised a hand and stood from where he'd been arguing with the microwave in the motel room. "I'm gonna be stuck on some useless stakeout with the locals while you get to pound back beers in a bar with Do-Me Vet lady? How is this fair?"
Sam chuckled and pulled his shirt on over shower-damp hair. "You're the one who didn't want to get stuck cleaning up after dogs all day. Only got yourself to blame."
Dean sighed and slapped the microwave door shut. "Looks like I'm going on stakeout hungry too." He glared at his brother's chuckle. "Keep it up and you're gonna have a black eye on your date tonight."
"Dude. It's not a date." Sam rolled his eyes and grabbed his jacket. "It's a bunch of people from the shelter."
"Uh huh." Dean chuckled and grabbed his own jacket. "Come on, Sammy. I'll drop you off at your not-date." He shoved Sam to the door and ignored the bitch-face.
Dean dropped Sam off with an admonishment to 'play nice with the other kids' and left to meet the cops he'd be spending the night with. He sighed. He couldn't even get lucky enough to have one or two hot chick cops on the op. No, he got stuck with the crusty old badges who actually thought spending a night cramped in a van was a good time. He pulled up outside the police station, and, as he climbed out of the Impala, saw the officers in question waving him over to an unmarked black van. Dean rolled his eyes.
"Subtle." Dean snorted and jogged over. "Really, guys? You watch too much NYPD Blue 'cause no one'll think to look at the totally out-of-place van alone on the street."
"Like you know anything, rookie." The oldest of the three officers rolled his eyes at Dean. "Get in the van, kid. Let the professionals show you how it's done."
Dean squeezed up into the back of the van with a groan and knew how his evening was going to be spent. "Awesome." Once more he sincerely wished he hadn't won the toss on who got to play Fed for this job because the local PD was having way too much 'making use of him'.
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Sam sat back with his beer and smiled, watching his co-workers toss darts at the board in the back of the bar. There were four of them - Melanie, Dave, Mike, and Patty. He couldn't help but see that they were more friends than co-workers. They had that vibe. He raised his beer as Melanie smiled and came over to sit beside him.
"I've got winners for next round," she said and pulled a beer over, taking a long sip. "It'll be Dave. They can't beat him…ever."
Sam chuckled. "So, you guys do this often?"
"Once a month or so, yeah." Mel smiled and then she frowned slightly. "There used to be more of us, but, what with the attacks and all, I guess it'll be a while before they feel up to coming back."
"Some of the victims?" Sam asked, curious, and Mel nodded.
"All of them." She told him sadly and took another long pull from the beer.
That hit Sam's radar. "Wait. All the victims of the attacks were part of…of this? Coming out here?"
"Uh huh. Why?" Mel looked at him in confusion. It was an odd sort of question to ask.
"It just seems…I don't know, coincidental, that's all. Did anything happen last month?" Sam asked and turned to face her. "Anything out of the ordinary?"
"No. We just drank, played darts…the usual." Mel waved a hand at the board. "Sean got a little too plastered to be playing and missed the board." She chuckled. "Bar owner was kinda pissed when he tossed a dart into one of his prized masks." She gestured to the wall behind the dart board and Sam got up for a better look. He went past the guys playing and looked at the wall. It was covered in tribal masks from several places around the world he could name and more that he didn't recognize.
"Creepy, huh?" Mel said at his elbow. She pointed to one particular mask in the middle. "See the little hole between the eyes?" She chuckled. "That's where Sean hit his bulls-eye."
The mask was made of some dark, nearly black wood. Indigo feathers ran across the top and, below it, the face of some beast had been delicately carved with its jaws opened wide to reveal rows of sharpened teeth. Between its eyes was a small hole from the dart and Sam got a bad feeling.
"Creepy, huh?" Mel laughed and gave his arm a tug. "Come on. I think Dave's about to hand Patty's ass to her."
Sam let himself be pulled away. He waited until Mel was up shooting and volunteered to get another round. He made his way through the crowd to the bar and waved down the bartender. "Hey. We need another round of beers over there." He waved at the table and smiled as the bartended started stacking bottles in front of him. "I don't suppose the owner's around, is he?"
"What do you wanna talk to him for?" The bartended set the last beer down and took the money Sam gave him.
"I wanted to ask about his mask collection." Sam shrugged and smiled. "They're really interesting. I was hoping I could ask him about them."
The bartender's face darkened and he leaned on the bar toward Sam. "I'm the owner, and if you're with them, I got nothing to say to you." He glared over at the other shelter employees and Sam's bad feeling strengthened.
"Right. Uh, thanks." He gathered up the beers and walked away. Sam would have sworn he could feel the man's eyes boring into his back as he went. He set them down on the table and looked over his shoulder; sure enough the owner was still watching him with that dangerous look. "Great," Sam groaned. He made himself sit through the next hour of drinking, dart-throwing and Mel flirting with him before he finally convinced one of the guys to drive him back to the motel, much to Melanie's dismay.
Sam went into the motel room with a relieved sigh and shut the door, leaning against it as he took out his phone and dialed Dean to tell him what he'd found.
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Dean groaned. He'd done a lot of that the last four hours as they sat on their useless stakeout. He knew damn well something supernatural was behind the attacks, not a third-rate car thief with a history of girlfriend beating. He rolled his eyes as his partners for the night giggled at yet another joke older than he was. He'd stopped paying attention an hour ago. Dean jumped when his phone rang in his pocket and he fished it out.
"Hope that ain't your wife callin', kid." Officer Jacks grinned over at him with a knowing look.
"Naw, probably his girlfriend." Officer Gregson piped up and smirked. "Wife doesn't know about her probably."
"Har har. You guys are hilarious." Dean rolled his eyes and answered his phone. "Hey, Sam."
"Oooh, Sam!" Gregson made a ridiculous, high-school girl worthy 'woo woo' sound that made Dean growl. "So he's battin' for the other team, boys!"
"Holy crap," Dean groaned and stood in the cramped space. "I think the FBI's got all it needs here." He rushed out the back of the van as the guys yelled after and slammed the door shut with a sigh of relief for the silence. He put his phone back to his ear and heard his brother chuckling. "Dude, you do not wanna piss me off right now. Do you KNOW how I've spent the night?"
Sam did his best to smother his laugh as the frustration level in his brother's voice rose. "Then this oughta make you happy. I think I know what started the attacks."
"Oh, please tell me I get to go shoot something now," Dean walked away from the van, thankful he was only a few blocks from the police station and his baby.
"Not yet." Sam tossed his jacket on the far bed and went to the table, pulling over his laptop. "There's this creepy mask in the bar they took me to tonight."
"Remind you of an old girlfriend?" Dean asked and smirked.
"Would you shut up?" Sam growled and sat. He quickly told Dean what little he had learned and knew he was paying attention when the smart-ass comments stopped. "I'm thinking, whatever's coming after them is because of that mask. Either it's cursed or…"
"Or the asshole owner got pissed and he's out for revenge. Got it." Dean turned a corner and saw the station in the distance. "You get a pic of it?"
"Yeah. I'm gonna see if I can find it online somewhere." Sam booted the laptop and kicked one of his shoes off. "Shouldn't have a problem finding something that unusual."
Dean strode down the street and nodded. "I'll be back in ten." His stomach growled and he smirked. "Make that twenty. I need food." He listened to Sam snort a laugh and stopped walking when he heard him gasp. "Sam?" There was no answer, but a moment a later he heard the sound of something heavy crashing and then a clatter as Sam's phone dropped and went dead. "Sammy?" Dean broke into a run. He sprinted the last three blocks to the police station, ignoring the burning in his lungs and the stitch in his side while fear clenched his heart.
Dean slapped into the side of the Impala and wrenched the door open, throwing himself behind the wheel and squealed heedlessly out of the precinct's parking lot. He tried to reign in his gasping breaths and fumbled his phone out again, dialing Sam's. "Shit!" Dean cursed as it went to voicemail. "Come on. Come on!" He ran a red light and took a corner, leaving a terrified hobo in his wake as every bad thing he could think of happening to his little brother in his absence avalanched through his mind.
The Impala screeched to a stop outside the motel, and Dean rushed from the car to the door, drawing his gun. He tried the knob and found it locked. "Dammit, Sam." He pulled the keycard out of his pocket with shaking fingers and unlocked the door. Dean took a breath to steady himself and kicked the door in, leading with his gun.
"Sam?" Dean eased into the room and saw the chair toppled over at the table and Sam's cellphone lying on the floor beside it. The bathroom door was closed and Dean went to it cautiously. He turned the knob and slapped the door open and stared. "Sammy?" He put his gun away and was beside his brother, who was bent over the toilet, in a heartbeat. "Sam." Dean laid a hand on the back of his neck and flushed the vomit away with a wrinkle of his nose. "Dude, you alright?"
Sam raised his head wearily and nodded.
"What happened?" Dean asked and pulled Sam's shoulder back so he could get a look at his face. The panic was slowly ebbing to be replaced by concern as he saw the pale face and haunted eyes Sam turned up to him. It felt like a punch to the gut as realization hit him; the gasp, the overturned chair, and a pale little brother heaving his guts up. "Shit, Sam. You were scratchin' at the damn wall again."
"No. No, I wasn't. Swear." Sam rubbed a hand over his face and tried to get control of himself.
Dean worked to swallow the guilt that his brother had been seizing on the floor again and he hadn't been there. "Alright, come on. You done?" Sam nodded and Dean pulled him up, reassuring himself that Sam was alive and well, if not a hundred percent. He waited while Sam washed his mouth out and then steered him back into the room and shoved him down on the side of his bed. "What happened?"
"What do you mean?" Sam cupped a hand over his forehead. His head was splitting with pain, like the last time it had happened, and he had to swallow hard against the urge to whimper.
"What do I…dude, don't play stupid," Dean growled. He went to his duffel and dug out the bottle of painkillers he'd grabbed after the last time. He shook two out, tossing it back, and snagged a bottle of water from the nightstand. "Here. Don't argue. You look like shit."
Sam smirked. "Thanks a lot." He studied the contained anger and fear on his brother's face and sighed. "Fine." He swallowed the pills and grabbed the water. "I just…I was looking at the mask, the picture, and…" Sam narrowed his eyes, staring at nothing as he tried to pull the jumble of memories he'd recovered into focus. It hadn't been like last time. Last time, weeks of his time in the Cage had cascaded through his mind and overwhelmed him. This time, it had been himself he'd seen, but not tortured…cold, analytical. The feel of being in his mind had been, and still was, terrifying. He couldn't imagine what it had been like for Dean having to walk around with his soulless self all those months.
"Hey!" Dean took his brother's shoulders and shook him hard. Sam jerked with a gasp and met his eyes. Dean heaved a relieved breath. "You back?" It had looked like Sam was on the verge of another seizure again, his eyes distant, vacant, and staring.
"Huh? I…yeah. Sorry." Sam shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to relieve the pressure. "It was the mask. I…I didn't get much back," he lied smoothly, not wanting to add to the burden Dean already carried where he was concerned. "Just flashes. There was another mask like the one at the bar." He rubbed his head and cracked his eyes to look over at his brother who still knelt worriedly in front of him. "It was used to summon a creature, I think. Didn't exactly get all the details back."
"Good," Dean said firmly and rose. "We'll figure it out without breakin' your head."
"Dean, I'm fine." Sam stood, pleased when he barely swayed, and went to the table and his laptop. "It has to be the bar owner. That guy was seriously bent over the shelter employees. Gave me the evil-eye too."
Dean scowled, not amused by the implicit threat from some hinkey bar owner. He glanced at his watch. "Bar's probably closed now. I'll go have a look around."
"I'm coming," Sam stood quickly and held up a hand. "There's no point in arguing with me, Dean. I'm fine and I'm coming. You think I'm letting you go in there without backup?"
Dean growled and rolled his eyes. "Fine. Come on then." He consoled himself knowing he could at least keep an eye on his brother if he was with him. "You stay behind me."
Sam smirked at having gotten his way with so little argument and followed him out to the car. He wished the painkillers would kick in soon so he could focus on the job instead of the mariachi band behind his eyes. He climbed into the Impala and gave Dean the directions.
"Where'd you leave the rest of the Scooby gang?" Dean asked as he drove.
Sam chuckled. "Probably all home sleeping it off by now."
Dean pulled up behind the darkened bar and got out, giving it a look. There were no lights on anywhere, and he hoped the run-down appearance of the place meant the owner hadn't sprung for security. He raised a brow as Sam went for the trunk. "You got a plan?"
Sam popped it open and pulled up the secret compartment. "From what little I remember, salt and fire will purify the mask and render the summoned creature inert."
"Inert?" Dean took the can of salt Sam handed him and stuck a hand in his pocket, making sure his Zippo was there. "What exactly does that mean?"
"Either dead or sent back where it came from, I guess." Sam shrugged and closed the trunk. "Either way, it'll be gone." He led the way to the building and held up the big bottle of lighter fluid. "I vote we torch them all just to be sure the owner can't summon something else."
"Like the way you think, Sammy," Dean grinned and bent to the lock. He rolled his eyes and pulled an old credit card from his back pocket. "When are people gonna learn these locks don't do crap?"
Sam chuckled as Dean quickly popped the latch and eased the door open. "Hopefully never or our job'll get harder." He pulled his gun as Dean did and entered the darkened back room. Sam took out a flashlight, flicking it on. He opened the door into the bar and nodded to Dean. "Emergency lights are on." Small, white lights in the corners gave a dim illumination through the bar's main room. "Looked bigger when I was here earlier."
Dean went toward the bar and pointed. "That them?" He eyed the wall of tribal masks and snorted. "That's one hell of a collection of creepy."
"It's that one." Sam went around the end of the bar and shined his light on the dark mask with the hole between the eyes. He took it off the wall carefully and couldn't shake the feeling its empty eyes were looking at him.
"What the hell you think you're doing in here?"
Dean spun at the growling, angry voice and raised his gun at the man near the back door. "This the owner?"
"Yeah." Sam nodded. "We know what you've been doing to the shelter employees." He held up the mask and watched the bar owner's eyes narrow angrily.
"I haven't done anything." The man shrugged and smiled. "Not my fault if something else decided they make tasty snacks."
"Seriously, dude?" Dean rolled his eyes. "I'm holding a gun on you and you're getting cute about almost killing a bunch of people. Not smart."
"Maybe I know I have an ace in the hole." The owner grinned.
Dean jerked around as Sam shouted and saw something large tackle his brother behind the bar. "Sam!" He dropped the salt can to the floor and spun back to the owner, stopping the man feet away and cocked his gun. "Call it off."
"Or what?" The bar owner sneered.
Dean cocked his head to the side hearing a pained shout from his brother and took a breath. He lowered the muzzle of the gun and shot the owner in the knee. "Or that." Dean said as he screamed on the floor.
"Sammy!" Dean ran to the bar and jumped to slide across the top. A large, furred animal crouched over his brother, and he could see it straining to snap powerful jaws past the grip Sam had on its throat. "Shit!"
"Dean!" Sam dug his fingers into the creature's throat to hold it off him and growled with the effort as drool spattered on his face and neck. "Mask!"
Dean scooped up Sam's fallen flashlight and shined it around the floor. He spotted the mask next to Sam's kicking feet and dove for it. His first instinct was to tear the creature off his brother, but he reigned it in; Sam was right. Destroy the mask and they wouldn't have to worry about it. He slapped it up onto the bar and swore; he'd left the salt can on the other side of the room.
"Dude…it's a….it's a bar!" Sam shouted, knowing what his brother was looking for.
"What? Oh…oh, yeah." Dean grinned sheepishly and bent, searching. He found a round, plastic box he knew was the margarita rimming kit and grabbed it; cracked the lid open and upended the rough grains of salt over the mask. "Hang on!" Dean turned and plucked the highest proof bottle of whiskey he could find off the back wall and pulled the pour stopper out. "Such a waste." He took a hefty swing from the bottle and then poured a few drops of it over the mask and the salt then dragged his Zippo out of his pocket.
"Any…time…now!" Sam gasped and had to turn his head or risk losing his nose from the snapping jaws as his arms began to weaken.
Dean spun the wheel on the Zippo and touched the flame to the little pools of whiskey. They burst to life and caught the salt. A moment later the mask was engulfed in a blue flame that rose up from the bar with a 'whoosh'. Dean turned to his brother and bent to grab the creature's back legs and pull it off balance.
"Shit!" Dean danced back a step as the creature spun suddenly atop Sam and growled at him. He pulled his gun from his back, aimed at its head and grinned as it screamed and went up in a ball of blue flame. "Nice! You still in one piece?" He bent over his brother and took the outstretched arm, tugging Sam to his feet and frowned as he hunched over his side.
"Mostly." Sam groaned and looked over at the bar owner who was still writhing on the floor and curled around his bleeding knee. "What are we gonna do about him?"
"Burn the rest of his toys and leave him to it." Dean guided Sam out from behind the bar and shoved him onto a stool. "Lemme look." He pulled Sam's jacket away from his side and hissed in a breath at the bloody slashes in his flannel. "Think you were supposed to duck there, sasquatch."
Sam snorted. "I'll try to remember that next time. Ow!" He jumped when Dean pressed into the wounds and brushed his hands away. "Knock it off and go do something useful."
Dean chuckled and reached into Sam's pocket, taking out the lighter fluid. "Ya big baby." He went and grabbed his can of salt from the floor with a sneer for the now whimpering owner and went to the wall.
"Dude, you can't just burn them on the wall…" Sam started but Dean was already spraying salt across the masks.
"All of a sudden, I'm not feelin' that charitable," Dean growled and glanced again at his brother's blood on his fingers. Hurt Sam and pay the price, he thought to himself and smiled grimly as he set the salt aside and started squirting lighter fluid; making sure to hit each mask.
"Oh, boy," Sam groaned and stood. He went over to the owner and stared down at him. The man was reduced to panting on the floor, only half-conscious. Sam knelt beside him. "Who was next on the list? Hey!" He nudged his leg, earning a loud groan of pain. "Who were you sending it after next?"
"I al…already did." He grinned up at Sam in spite of his pain. "You're too late."
"Son of a bitch." Sam breathed and stood. "Dean! He says he already sent it after someone at the shelter. We have to get over there!"
Dean held the lit Zippo out to the wall and grinned as flames caught and spread upward. "Let's go." He put it away, turned around and glared down at the owner who was getting a panicked look on his face watching the flames spread quickly over the wall. Winning an inner argument with the darker side of himself that wanted to just leave the guy there, Dean snorted in disgust. "Suppose we could drag his sorry ass out to the parking lot." Dean strode over to the owner and grabbed an arm, dragging him toward the back door while he howled in pain. "Serves you right, asshole."
They dragged him out into the parking lot and left him lying by the dumpster as they climbed into the Impala. Dean pulled his door shut just as the flames reached the alcohol in the bar. The back door of the bar flew off in a wash of flames and smoke, narrowly missing the end of the car.
Sam smirked. "Should have parked further away."
Dean breathed out a breath. "That was too close, baby." He rubbed a hand over the dash and pulled away, glancing over at his brother squirming in the seat while he tried to get a look at his wounds. "You gonna live?"
Sam snorted and hissed in a pained breath. "Probably." He pressed his jacket over his side and made himself sit still. "Doesn't actually hurt that much." He smirked. "Painkillers are still working."
Dean rolled his eyes, not believing him for a second, but set it aside and sped toward the shelter. "Was anyone supposed to be there tonight?"
"No." Sam shook his head. "Far as I know, they all went home after the bar but he said…"
"Nothin' you can do about it, Sammy," Dean reassured him. "You couldn't have known. We get lucky, he called fugly back to attack you before it was finished."
Sam nodded and sincerely hoped that one of the people he'd worked with wasn't bleeding out on the floor. His eyes widened in surprise as they pulled up to the shelter a few minutes later and saw a police cruiser and ambulance outside. "Oh, man."
"Damn." Dean pulled up behind one of the cruisers and sighed as Sam was already out of the car and heading for the ambulance.
"Hey! What's happened?" Sam asked the first officer he found. "I work here. What's going on?"
"Woman was attacked inside." The cop said and smiled. "She's gonna be ok."
"Can I see her? Please?" Sam asked and nodded in relief as the cop waved him to the ambulance. Sam kept his jacket pulled over his bloody side and climbed carefully into the back of the ambulance. He groaned when he saw who it was. "Melanie? Are you alright?"
"Sam!" Melanie looked up at him tearfully and smiled. She reached out the arm not encased in bandages to him. "Oh, my god. Are you alright? Did it get you too?"
"What? No, no I'm fine." Sam smiled and sat next to her. "What happened?"
"This…I don't even know. Some strange sort of dog, I guess." Melanie closed her eyes. "I can't imagine how it got in. It just…it jumped me, and I thought…" Her breath started to hitch. "…I thought it was going to kill me."
Sam squeezed her hand. "You're alright now."
Melanie nodded and looked up at him again. "It was Murray." Her smile widened. "He broke the door to his cage and he saved me." She squeezed Sam's hand back. "He got the…the thing off of me and then stood over me and growled at it until it went away."
Sam grinned and laughed. "Told you he was a good dog."
She laughed as well. "You did. Soon as I get out of the hospital, he's coming home with me. My hero."
"Glad to hear it. Listen, take care of yourself, Mel." Sam leaned down and put a kiss on her forehead. He climbed out of the ambulance before she could ask him any questions and went back to the Impala where his brother waited.
"Who was it?" Dean asked as Sam eased back into the seat.
"Mel. She's fine." Sam smiled and settled back with a groan. "Murray saved her."
"Murray?" Dean raised a brow and backed out of the lot. "It's a dog, isn't it?"
Sam chuckled. "He's bigger than you." He looked over and smirked. "Like me."
"Shut up, sasquatch." Dean growled and headed for their motel. "Just for that, I'm disinfecting those claw marks with whiskey."
Sam laughed and shook his head, leaning back. "Won't be the first time."
"Yeah, well…this time I'm salting 'em first." Dean glared over at him as he laughed. "Keep laughin', fun boy. I'll really make it hurt." He watched Sam press his arm into his side as he chuckled while keeping a wary eye on Dean in case he decided to a throw a punch. Dean smirked. It settled him to have Sam laughing and alert beside him after the scare earlier in the evening, wounded or not. Even so, in the interests of reminding Sam who the big brother was, Dean steered over the deepest pothole he could find and snorted a laugh when Sam doubled over, groaned and called him an ass. "Suck it up, princess."
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The End.
