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 murphy9202 - I want a story with Hurt/Limp!Sam and lots of Awesome/Caring!Dean, Bobby and Missouri. Set the story in Season 2. Sam hurt a lot worse than expected after the wreck and the full extent of his injuries are finally revealed, needs time to recover/rehab. Boys stay with Bobby and Missouri comes to help. During this time Sam gets to experience two things he felt has always missed out on: a mother figure and a caring father figure. Dean has always been his everything, now he gets three people who all really care for him and want him to fully recover.
A/N: Post season 1 wreck. :D I've only done it once and that was a while back. I can happily do it again. Lol By virtue of the prompt obviously, this one is a little AU.
….this one got away from me a little so…yeah, HAHA *snort*
Also HUGE thanks to every one of you and your fantastic reviews! *hugs* I'm sorry I haven't replied to every one but…30+ reward stories to write plus real life…I get distracted. :D I appreciate all of them and look forward to each! Thank you so much!
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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Dean slapped the door open into Bobby's kitchen and went for the coffee maker. He wanted a shot of whiskey, but figured even Bobby would give him a lecture for that at nine in the morning. They'd given his father a Hunter's funeral the night before and Dean hadn't even bothered with bed. What the hell was the point in sleeping when he knew what Dad had done for him? He'd barely looked at Sam after and gone to stare at the wreck of his baby instead with a bottle.
"You're up early," Bobby said as he turned into the kitchen and found Dean. "Figured you'd be sleepin' it off still."
"Nope," Dean took his coffee and headed for the stairs, deciding a shower wouldn't be a bad thing.
Bobby sighed, watching Dean trudge up the stairs and shook his head. He didn't have a damn clue what to say to either of those boys right now. Sam was walking around like he was made of glass, and Dean…well, he just looked like he wanted to kill something. "Dammit."
Dean eased the bedroom door open, wanting to grab fresh clothes without waking his brother up and having to deal with him and his sharing bullshit. He stuck his head in the door and raised his brows; Sam's bed was empty. He shrugged and took what he needed, retreating to the bathroom and lost himself under the hot spray until it started to go cold. It wasn't that he didn't care that Sam was hurting. He just figured Sam wasn't hurting as much, whatever he said, and he didn't know what Dean knew in his heart. Sam had no idea what Dad had done, and the knowledge was eating Dean up inside.
He came out of the bathroom and groaned, hearing his phone ringing in the bedroom. Dean opened the door again, room still empty, and went over, swiping it up from the nightstand. "Hello?"
"Dean Winchester?"
Dean frowned, hearing a woman's voice and then stared in surprise. "Missouri?"
"Well, who else would it be?" Missouri replied, as if it should be obvious. "Where's your brother?"
"How the hell should I know?" Dean's brief good will vanished, the anger returning to choke him.
"Dean, son. I am more sorry than I can say about your daddy," Missouri's voice was suddenly quiet, forcing him to listen closely. "I know what happened, and…I know what you think he did. You're right, but that's not important right now."
"Not important?" Dean's voice rose. "How can you…"
"Dean, you listen to me! What matters right now is Sam! Where is he?" Missouri was having to work to cover the fear her visions had left her with. "He was hurt too, you know!"
"Hey, he walked out of that hospital under his own power." Dean growled. "I don't have time for this."
"Boy, you make time." Missouri let her own anger out. "You're an idiot. I saw that wreck. You know how I saw it, and if you think that boy just…just walked away…what's wrong with you? You so eaten up with your own guilt you can't watch out for him like you're supposed to?"
"Listen, lady!" Dean kicked the end of his bed angrily, but she overrode him.
"You listen to me, Dean Winchester. You need to find your brother now…before it's too late." Missouri's voice was heavy with concern now.
"What the hell do you mean 'too late'?" Dean demanded, and the first thread of worry finally got past his anger. He looked back over at his brother's empty bed and frowned.
"You have to find him, Dean. Now." Missouri heard the change in his voice and knew he was listening now. "I won't get there in time, you hear me? I sensed it, and it's gonna be real bad, real fast. Go, Dean. Now."
Dean didn't wait to hear more. He closed his phone and bolted from the bedroom. Missouri's fear had become his. "Sam?" he yelled and ran down the stairs. "Bobby! You seen Sam?"
"Not since…since last night." Bobby shook his head. "What's got into you?"
"Sam!" Dean shouted and ran to the cellar door, sticking his head down the stairs. "Sam, you down there?"
"Dean! What's wrong?" Bobby took his arm to stop him.
"Missouri called. Something's wrong." Dean headed for the front of the house. "We gotta find him now."
"Balls." Bobby strode out onto the porch with him. "You go that way." He pointed off to the left of the junkyard.
Dean bolted off the porch. "Sammy!" He yelled and ran along the row of wrecked cars. He stopped at the ruin of the Impala and for the first time really looked at it. Fear suddenly choked him; how could his brother possibly have just walked away from that? The driver's side was just as crushed as the rest. "God," Dean breathed. "Sam?" He could hear Bobby calling on the other side of the forest of cars. He looked around the yard and down the row of cars to the shed. Dean didn't know how, but somehow he knew that's where he needed to go.
"Sammy?" Dean sprinted to the shed and inside. "Sam, you in here?" It was dark and the shelves were shadows in the gloom. He listened carefully, and after the sound of his own heart pounding receded, he heard it; wheezing breaths from somewhere in the back. "Shit!" Dean stuck his head back out the door. "Bobby! Shed!" He fumbled on the wall and got the lights on and then ran to the back. "Sam? Come on, buddy. Talk to…" Dean stopped and stared for just a second when he found his little brother lying on the floor and curled around himself, wheezing like he couldn't get enough air.
Dean dropped beside him and carefully eased Sam to his back, pulling his head into his lap. "Sammy." He was pale and too warm with sweat sticking his ridiculous hair to his forehead.
"Dean?" Bobby saw him back in the corner and scrubbed a hand over his face and went to them. "He alright?"
"He look alright to you?" Dean snarled and then shook his head. "Sorry, Bobby." He put a hand to Sam's neck, not liking how fast his heart was pounding beneath his fingers. "Sam, what's goin' on with you?"
Bobby took the hem of Sam's shirt. "I had a feelin', but the kid wouldn't lemme look." He tugged it up and sucked in a breath, hearing Dean do the same. Sam's chest was covered in a crazy quilt of deep bruises, the darkest of them forming a half-ring in the shape of the Impala's steering wheel.
"Why wouldn't he tell us it was this bad?" Dean asked softly.
"Cause you and your dad were already outta commission, and he needed to be there." Bobby watched Dean pull Sam closer and groaned. "Dean, we gotta take him back. He signed himself out AMA."
"Stupid, stubborn, jackass!" Dean palmed the side of his brother's face. "Sammy? Come on, buddy. Wake up." He sighed. "Alright. Let's get him up."
"No. I'm gonna call an ambulance." Bobby put a hand on Dean's shoulder to keep him in place. "Don't wanna move him too much. We don't know what else is going on inside him. Could be dangerous."
Dean nodded silently as Bobby stood and took a few steps away, calling 911. "Ok, Sam. I get it. I screwed up." He put a hand gently on his brother's chest so he could feel him breathing, however raggedly, and feel his heart beating. "I should'a seen this. I should have thought…but I was just so damn pissed." He groaned and looked down at his brother, unable to help but see the parallel between them and what Sam had gone through with their Dad, their last words to each other spoken in anger.
He tried to remember the last thing he had said to Sam. He was pretty sure it had been "Just leave me the hell alone." Now, looking at Sam laying there too still and too pale, he was terrified that those angry words might possibly be his last to the brother he had loved more than anything or anyone else in the world for as long as he could remember. "I didn't mean it literally, Sammy," he whispered, fighting back tears. "I just wanted some time…"
"Be here in five minutes." Bobby knelt beside them again. "Didn't look this bad last night, did he?"
Dean shook his head, overcome with guilt. He hadn't noticed. He let Bobby pull him away in a daze once the paramedics arrived and watched as his brother was loaded and strapped onto a stretcher.
"Come on, son," Bobby said gently and pulled Dean outside behind the stretcher and toward his truck. "We'll follow them in."
Dean didn't say anything. He watched the back of the ambulance through the whole drive, wishing he could see Sam, wishing he'd muscled his way inside. They pulled up behind it at Sioux Falls General Hospital and Dean was out before the truck had stopped moving as the ambulance doors opened. He frowned, his fear deepening as Sam's gurney was pulled out. His shirt had been cut open and there were two pads stuck to his chest.
"What happened? He alright?" Dean demanded of the paramedics as they pulled the gurney.
"We almost lost him, but we got him back. Sir, step back. Please."
Dean snarled as they entered the emergency room and a press of bodies cut him off. "Dammit!" He shoved through the doors they'd vanished through and jerked when a hand took his arm.
"Easy, son." Bobby gentled his grip. The panic on Dean's face was clear as day. "He's gonna be alright." Dean's arm was trembling under his hand.
"They lost him in the ambulance…for a minute." Dean kept his distance with difficulty as doctors and nurses swarmed his little brother, calling indecipherable terms and orders to each other over top of him.
"Balls," Bobby breathed. "He will be alright, Dean. He will."
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Three days later, Bobby had been right. Sam was going to be alright, but it was going to be a long road. Dean came out of the bathroom downstairs and went quietly into the room that had been Bobby's until a couple hours earlier. They'd brought Sam home and moved him into it since stairs were off his list of things he could do for a while. Sam's chest hadn't been the worst of it, though it was bad enough. Deep bruising across his chest had constricted his breathing, and when the pain had become worse, he'd panicked and passed out, leaving Dean and Bobby to find him. There'd been bruising around Sam's spine as well, likely from twisting around during the crash. The doctor had told him that it wasn't unusual for swelling to take several days to cause issues, and that if Sam had stayed in the hospital, they would have caught it and dealt with it before things became so dire.
Dean went to the bed and sat carefully beside Sam's hip. His only relief at this point, other than that Sam was alive and breathing, was that the damage wasn't permanent. But for now, Sam was crippled. It would take weeks before the swelling would go down enough to let him walk without help. Dean looked at his brother's legs beneath the blanket. If Sam didn't take it easy and do his physical therapy, it could become permanent and leave him paralyzed. He snorted softly.
"You're gonna do every damn thing the docs told you to," Dean whispered to his sleeping brother.
"Dean." Bobby came in and handed him a cup of coffee.
"Thanks." Dean sipped gratefully from the steaming cup.
"Wanna cup," Sam's soft voice came up from the bed, making both men stare in surprise.
"Dude, you're supposed to be out for another hour at least!" Dean watched Sam open his eyes and roll his head to look at him. "And no, you can't have any coffee yet."
"Well, that's just mean." Sam said in a slightly breathless voice. The bruises on his chest were still making it difficult for him to take a deep breath. It was slightly mortifying, as he'd made himself pass out twice in the hospital just by getting too damn upset when they'd explained his condition to him. He started to push himself up in the bed and groaned when Dean's heavy hand landed on his shoulder, pushing him back.
"No, you don't," Dean ordered with a shake of his head.
"Come on, I need the can." Sam rolled his eyes. It's five feet down the hall. I can…"
"Let us help." Bobby finished for him and pulled a pair of metal crutches with arm supports from the chair by the door. "Oh, don't gimme that bitch face o' yours."
Dean moved up to the head of the bed and slid an arm under Sam's back. "Let us do the work, Sammy." He eased his brother up so he was sitting while Bobby flipped the blanket off him and gently pulled his legs around and over the side of the bed.
Sam slammed his eyes shut as pain swept through him. He couldn't pick anything that didn't hurt. "Stop…stop." He was panting for breath by the time he was sitting on the side of the bed and had his head planted in Dean's chest unashamedly.
"Ok, buddy. Take it easy." Dean held the back of Sam's neck and squeezed to give him reassurance. "Slower breaths, dude." They had tried to keep Sam in the hospital for several days more, but Sam had been adamant; he wanted out and Dean understood. Coming so soon on the heels of their father's death, he wasn't comfortable there either. It was like being slapped in the face with his loss every second; every breath of sterilized air, every beep of the machines was like nails on a chalkboard for them.
Bobby and Dean both looked around in surprise at a sudden knock on the front door. "You got this?"
Dean nodded, supporting Sam against his chest while he tried to breathe through the pain. "Go on." He patted Sam's shoulder lightly. "You just tell me when you're ready, buddy."
"Gonna…be…a min…a minute," Sam managed between breaths. He tried to relax the grip he had on Dean's shirt with his fists and slow his breathing down as well.
"Oh, child." Missouri came into the room with Bobby at her back and smiled at Dean. "Don't look so surprised, Dean. Of course I came."
Dean closed his mouth and shook his head, amused. He met her eyes, suddenly serious. "Thanks, Missouri." He meant for her call and making sure he'd found his brother before the worst had happened. He knew she knew what he meant and how deeply he meant it.
Missouri waved a hand dismissively and bent to kneel beside them. She reached out and nudged Sam's chin until she could see his face. "Hello, Sam." She smiled when he opened his eyes to look at her. "You're not looking so good."
Sam chuckled and then coughed. "Hi." It was all he could manage just then, and he closed his eyes as she brushed her knuckles affectionately up his cheek.
"Don't worry, Sam. You'll be on your feet again in no time," Missouri reassured him and then smirked. "Well, not in 'no time,' but time enough."
"Now…would be good." Sam pried his head up from Dean's chest and gave a short nod. "Ok, I'm…I'm good."
Dean nodded and slid his hands under Sam's shoulders. "Bobby?"
"Right here." Bobby moved in and waited for Dean to get Sam standing, supported by him while Bobby slipped the supports on the crutches around Sam's forearms and planted them on the floor. "How's that, Sam?"
"Ok." He looked up, blushing lightly. "I, uh…I really…gotta go, guys."
Missouri snorted and backed out of the room. "I'll just leave you boys to it. Kitchen needs to have something cooking in it, I think."
Sam worked to let Dean and Bobby do most of the work, holding him as he awkwardly shifted the unfamiliar crutches and his feet dragged along the floor. Each step left him momentarily breathless with effort.
"Sam, you don't stop lookin' like a landed fish, we're just gonna carry your ass to the bathroom and back." Bobby warned.
"No…way," Sam growled, frustrated with himself.
Missouri busied herself in the kitchen, emptying the bag of groceries she'd bought and already had a pot on the stove. John's death had cut her deep. The man had been an ass, but he'd been a good man who loved his boys…to a fault. Missouri sighed and wiped away a tear. That fault had led him to do the unthinkable. "Dammit, John," She whispered and set about slicing an onion, needing an excuse should someone come in the kitchen just then.
Sam made no argument when, after getting him back to the bed after the bathroom, Dean and Bobby bodily picked him up and laid back in the bed. He was barely managing a complete breath, and it was driving up his panic level which wasn't helping him manage it either. "Dean," He gasped.
"Right here, Sammy." Dean sat next to him and carefully pulled Sam up to lean into his side, trying to help him. "Sam, you gotta slow this down."
"T…trying." Sam's eyes were wide in fear. He felt like he was slowly suffocating, his chest refusing to expand properly. It wasn't something he reacted well to as far too many supernatural things tended to go for his throat first and he was more than familiar with the terrifying sensation of feeling the life being choked out of him, his lungs unable to draw in the oxygen his body was desperate for.
Bobby sat and took Sam's hand, seeing the kid was seconds away from passing out again. He pushed back his own fear and smiled. "Alright, Sam." He took Sam's hand and placed it palm-down on his brother's chest, giving a dirty to look to Dean when he rolled his eyes. "Feel him breathin' nice and slow?" He waited until Sam nodded. "Just copy that. In and out. Nice and even."
Sam concentrated on the feel of Dean's chest rising and falling slowly beneath his hand. He felt like a child and immensely grateful at the same time. He glanced up at Dean's face, expecting to see some sort of derision for his weakness. Instead, there was only concern as Dean made sure to keep his breaths even for him. Drugs left over in his system from the hospital, stress, and exhaustion all worked against him as he finally managed to take some normal breaths, and he felt sleep begin to steal over him.
"It's ok, dude. We'll wake you up in a bit for food," Dean said softly and eased Sam's now relaxed arm down to the bed while Bobby tugged the blanket up higher as Dean laid him gently back to the pillow. Both men stole out of the room silently. Dean looked over at the older Hunter and then away. "Bobby…"
"Shut up, already," Bobby said gruffly. He didn't need any more thanks for taking care of family.
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Sam woke by himself and spent a few minutes staring at the ceiling and not allowing the pain to ruin his breathing again. He wanted to get up and see where everyone was, maybe lay on the couch instead of back here by himself. He closed his eyes again, frustrated knowing how useless he was going to be and for how long.
"Now, I know you're not laying there feeling sorry for yourself, Sam."
Missouri's voice surprised him, and Sam opened his eyes to find her standing over him. "Hey, Missouri." He watched as she sat next to him and set a bowl on the table. "How 'bout we get you up and you eat? It's not every day I make my stew." She smiled and put her hands under Sam's shoulders before he could argue. She pulled, grunting with effort and let him lean on her shoulder while she reached around him to pile the pillows up. "Take it easy, son. In and out, nice and easy." She coached calmly and leaned back so he was slightly raised in the bed.
"Thanks, Missouri," Sam said, embarrassed at being so weak in front of her. "Dean…Dean said you called him and…and told him."
"Well being a psychic's gotta be good for something, right?" Missouri laughed and picked the bowl back up. She set it in his lap and handed him a spoon. "You're not useless, Sam." She rolled her eyes when he looked at her in shock and she tapped her temple. "Psychic?"
Sam smiled and dragged his spoon through the stew. It did smell good. "Where are Dean and Bobby?"
"Oh, around somewhere." Missouri smiled gently. "I wanted a minute alone with you." Sam nodded and didn't look up from the bowl. Missouri sighed and put a hand out to the side of his face. "Sam, look at me. You know you haven't done anything wrong? Dean still loves you."
Sam flinched at having his deepest fear pulled so easily out into the open and shook his head. "He's taking care of me because he's supposed to, Missouri." He groaned and dropped his spoon back in the bowl, no longer hungry as self-loathing came over him. "He's doing what Dad trained him to do and then, after the crash…"
"That's why you didn't tell him how bad you were hurting." Missouri rolled her eyes. "Thought you were saving him trouble like an idiot." She smirked as Sam flinched. "You are an idiot. So's he. If you think that brother of yours is only caring for you now because of something your daddy said, that's just plain nonsense. He loves you, Sam. You know that. And THAT boy, well, he's got his own brand of screwed up, but I think you know that, too."
Sam nodded and rubbed a hand over his face, trying to moderate his hitching breaths. "I yelled at him," He said softly and couldn't look up. "I yelled…and it was the last…the last thing we said, and…I can't…"
"Shush, boy." Missouri leaned in and wrapped Sam in a hug, trying to be careful of the bruises she knew he was carrying. "He knows. He always knew, and so did you." She felt the warmth of tears on her shoulder as she held his heaving shoulders. "It will be alright, Sam. Not for a while mind, but it will."
Dean stood outside the bedroom, wiped at his own damp eyes and hated himself a little more. He had heard every word and it broke his heart remembering how he thought Sam somehow wasn't hurting as much as he was. He took a step away to go find something inanimate out in the yard to take it out on but stopped hearing Sam's hitching breaths and dropped his head. He couldn't just leave him. It was his fault Sam was this bad, that he hadn't even thought to wonder how his brother was walking after the wreck. He turned into the room instead and smiled when Missouri looked up at him.
"Hey." Dean went to the bed and nodded at her, silently asking her to let him take over. He smiled again when she seemed to understand and smoothly switched places. Dean slid in and cupped a hand around the back of his brother's neck then copied Bobby, taking Sam's hand with his own and put it on his chest. "Come on, buddy. Gotta get a handle on this."
Sam nodded, beyond speech at the moment as he'd looked up at Dean and the honest concern and caring had been plain in his eyes; not duty or responsibility, just love as Missouri had said. Sam closed his eyes once more, focusing on matching his breathing to his brother's as he'd done earlier.
"Doin' good, Sammy. That's it." Dean pushed him back a little so he could look at him and decided he liked what he saw, letting Sam back to lie against the pillows.
"How about you feed him that stew before it goes cold," Missouri smiled at them both. She put a hand on Dean's shoulder and leaned over to drop a maternal kiss to the top of Sam's head. She chuckled at the look on his face and left them alone.
"Thanks…Dean." Sam said finally and rolled his eyes when Dean handed him the spoon and the bowl.
"It's good, dude. That woman can cook." Dean snorted. "Put a shine on Bobby's kitchen too. He ain't happy."
"She cleaned the kitchen?" Sam asked and laughed shortly. "Wow."
"Yeah. He threatened to hide her body if she went near his study." Dean chuckled and nodded at the bowl. "Eat already before she comes back in here."
Sam took a bite though he still had no appetite and his eyes widened in appreciation. "Holy crap. This is awesome!"
"Yeah." Dean grinned and watched Sam dig into the stew in earnest, comfortable to just sit with him while he ate even if he wasn't ready yet to have the heart-to-heart Sam seemed to think they both needed.
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A week later, Sam was hobbling slowly around the house on his own with the help of his crutches and at least one of his three nursemaids at his side at all times. It was irritating and comforting at the same time. He couldn't decide whether he wanted to scream at them or hug them. He navigated his way out into the living room and didn't bother to turn the light on; the moonlight streaming through the window over the couch was bright enough. He turned carefully and tried to be graceful on his way to the cushion but ended up dropping with a thump.
"Dammit," Sam groaned. His legs still weren't obeying all his orders, and his weakness was truly frustrating him. Just getting from the bed to the couch left him panting like he'd run a mile.
"Midnight stroll, Sam?" Bobby said from the door and grinned when the boy jumped.
"Geez, Bobby. Warn a guy." Sam rolled his eyes and leaned back into the couch. "Just tired of staring at the ceiling in there." He leaned his head back on the cushion. "Figured I'd come stare at the ceiling out here."
Bobby chuckled and came in, stopping to hand a mug to Sam. "Coffee." He smiled and dropped into the chair next to the couch, putting his feet up with a groan.
"Bobby, you don't have to sit down here with me," Sam sipped the coffee gratefully. "Go back to bed."
"I'm good, son." Bobby shrugged. He knew damn well it had taken whatever energy Sam had to get out here and he'd need help getting back. Not to mention, if Dean caught him down here on his own, there'd be hell to pay. He smirked. "How you feelin'?"
"Hammered crap," Sam said easily, ruefully, and closed his eyes. "You guys gotta be getting sick of waiting on me."
Bobby sat up, leaned over and slapped a hand to the side of Sam's head. "You knock that crap off," He said fiercely when Sam met his eyes with surprise. "Sam, you damn near died 'cause we weren't payin' attention. You got any idea how that makes me feel?" Bobby leaned back again, surprised that he'd actually admitted to that. He shook his head and smiled at his own weakness.
"Sorry," Sam said softly.
Bobby leaned forward again and studied him. "Sam, son. I know your daddy's death ain't been any easier on you than your brother." He sighed as Sam's face fell. "Your dad loved you Sam. Dean loves you." He scrubbed a hand uncomfortably under his ballcap and looked up at the ceiling. "Hell, you know, I…well…me too."
Sam smirked, amused and looked sideways at him. "We having a chick-flick moment, Bobby?"
"Shuddup." Bobby snorted and sat back again. "What I'm tryin' to say is, we're not here takin' care of you because we have to be, Sam. We're here 'cause we wanna be. You think Missouri drove three days out of some screwy sense of obligation?"
Sam shook his head, surprised. He hadn't thought of it like that. "Well, no. I mean…no."
"I sure as hell don't have to let you boys use my house, and you think Dean can't get one those beaters runnin' out there long enough to take off?" Bobby rolled his eyes and then smiled so Sam would know he was trying to help, not hurt. "Son, you are every bit as important to us as we are to you." Bobby meant that like nothing else, having watched Sam look at him with unabashed affection since he was knee-high.
"Why, Bobby Singer." Missouri swept into the room with a smirk and shook her head. "Didn't know you had it in you to care and share."
Bobby growled as his face burned. "You know you're cookin's the only reason I put up with you, woman."
Missouri chuckled. "Go back to bed, old man. I'll watch over Sam for a bit."
"I don't need watching over, you know," Sam said defensively.
"Be quiet," came from both Missouri and Bobby in unison, and Sam threw his hands up in the air and thumped back into the couch.
"I give up." Sam sighed, smiling.
"Smart boy." Missouri patted his knee and sat beside him. "You gonna sleep out here? Don't recommend it. You'll wake up mighty sore you try and fit those giraffe legs on this thing."
Sam snorted and sat back up. "Alright, alright. I'll go back to bed." He slid his arms back into the crutches and enjoyed the warm feeling as Missouri steadied him on one side and Bobby jumped up to steady him on the other. "I can make it."
"Oh, probably; but I'm pretty sure Dean would hurt us if he found out we let you go back alone." Missouri raised a brow at him.
Sam huffed out a breath and nodded. "Alright; but only because I don't want you two to get in trouble." He was panting by the time they reached the bed and didn't argue when Bobby pretty much put him in the bed and Missouri covered him and made him blush as she dropped a kiss to his forehead.
"Sleep, Sam." Missouri told him softly and stepped out with Bobby, pulling the door shut.
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Sam hobbled his way around the back of the junkyard. He was much better with the crutches now, three weeks into his rehabilitation, and his legs even did what he told them most of the time, but he was still weak and tired easily. He'd escaped out the back door while Dean worked on the Impala and Bobby and Missouri had gone off for supplies. He'd actually gotten fairly good at asking for help before taking a walk, but he wanted alone time, and there was little of that to spare with him and his injuries.
He went through the trees and down the dirt path, careful of the ruts in the ground. He'd toppled himself once last week, fouling a crutch on some scrap, and it had jarred his back enough to put tears in his eyes. Sam pushed through a screen of leafless bushes and stopped. He took a moment to catch his breath and then looked into the clearing in front of him and the dark, burned area in its center. This was what he had wanted.
"Hey, Dad," Sam said softly. The last time he'd been here, they had lit their father's pyre. He'd been too angry and too crushed to really think. Now, he'd had time to reflect. The last few weeks had given him an insight into what it must have been like for Dean, at least in some small part, to have a mother and a father in the house. Sam smirked, sure that Missouri and Bobby would each slap him for the comparison.
"I get it, Dad." Sam looked up at the grey, clouded sky. "Why you were so…you." He rolled his eyes. "I figured it out. Haven't had much to do the last few weeks except read, and, uh…I know what you did," Sam whispered and let his eyes fall back to the burned ground. "You summoned the demon and made a deal…for Dean." He raised a hand and brushed irritably at the tears that began to fall. "You…you pissed me off on purpose…that day. Had to…to get me out of the way so you could do it. I get it." Sam sniffed, wiping at his eyes again. "I wish…I should have seen it then. I could have done it."
"That's bullshit, Sammy." Dean's voice startled him badly and Sam staggered as he turned and would have fallen but Dean raced forward and grabbed him. "Easy. I gotcha." He steadied Sam and looked out in the clearing angrily. Sam's trail had been easy enough to follow once Dean realized he was missing. He'd almost not gone after him when he realized where Sam was headed.
"Dean…"
"Just…shut up, ok?" Dean shook his head. "Shouldn't have been either of you. I shouldn't be here." He glared Sam into silence when he opened his mouth. "But I am. Can't change that." Dean went and knelt beside the burned ground, staring down at it. "I think maybe…Dad was afraid he couldn't protect you." It was bullshit of course, but Sam didn't need to know what their father had said before he died. It was bad enough Dean had to live with that secret. "He knew I would…no matter what."
Dean stood and walked back to Sam and the tears still shining on his face. "You got nothin' to be sorry for, Sam. It wasn't your fault. It was Dad, doing what he always did." He turned to glare at the burned grass. "Making decisions that change our lives without bothering to ask."
Sam could imagine the horror he'd feel if Dad had traded his soul for him; Dean must be drowning with it, and yet… "I'm not sorry," Sam said softly and met Dean's eyes, his gaze steady and clear and unwavering. "I miss him, Dean. I want him back, but…not if it costs me you. I'm not sorry you're still here. I would not trade that for anything…or anyone."
Dean stared back at his brother for a moment. Frankly, the intensity in Sam's gaze as he spoke was a little unnerving, and Dean couldn't decide whether to be angry or touched. He settled somewhere between the two and took his brother's shoulder, turning him back toward the house. "You look like hell, dude." Dean informed him gruffly and got him moving.
Sam knew he was still angry, and maybe even still a little angry with him in particular, yet the arm across the back of his shoulders supportively told him that they'd be alright. Whatever happened, Dean was still his big brother and wasn't going to leave him. "Thanks, Dean."
"For what?" Dean glanced over at him, relieved to see that the tears seemed to have dried.
Sam shook his head and smiled. "Nothing."
Dean rolled his eyes. "Dude, Missouri and Bobby'll be back soon. You can have a chick-flick with them. Just leave me out of it." He snorted at his brother's weary laugh, bracing his back when Sam wobbled the wrong way for a moment. "And your ass is staying on the damn couch the rest of the day."
"Hey!" Sam rolled his eyes. "I'm fine."
"Wobblin' around like a toddler on a tilt-a-whirl. Yeah, you look fine." Dean laughed as Sam snarled in disgust and tried to pull away. "Knock it off before you fall down."
Sam let Dean take his right arm, tug off the crutch and pull it over his shoulder. He snorted softly, grateful for the extra support. He was tired as hell and, frankly, ready to fall asleep, but he wasn't about to let Dean know that. "Bet if we ask real nice, Missouri'll make her stew again."
Dean chuckled. "Dude, all you gotta do is give her those puppy dog eyes of yours." They both looked up at the sound of car doors slamming from the other side of the house.
"Boys? We're home!" Bobby's shout made them smile.
"I'd say 'race ya' but…" Sam waved his crutch and made Dean snort.
"You couldn't beat me with two good legs," Dean hitched Sam's arm higher on his shoulders, grinning at the bitch-face he shot him. "Gimp-boy."
"Jerk," Sam shot back as they rounded the house and he smiled at Missouri who followed Bobby up the porch with a bag of groceries.
"Bitch." Dean laughed and hitched him into a faster walk.
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The End.
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