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 Janebear - I would like a story from season 2 right after in my time of dying and before
everybody loves a clown. Would love to explore sam's view of what he was going through after losing his father and having to take care of everyone while hiding a very critical injury from the car accident. You can of course of dean's injuries in there too. I have always loved this season and this episodes but so would have loved to see some of Sam's way of dealing with of all the emotional stress too.

A/N: Between 2x01 and 2x02 with hurt and sucking it up, angsty Sammy. I hope this is what you wanted, or at least close to it. Lol

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 sat on the hood of one of the junkers in Bobby's yard and stared out at the lightening sky. He wasn't sure where Dean was at that moment; probably inside with a bottle of whiskey, he figured. It didn't sound like such a bad idea just then. Numbing his brain for a while might be a good thing. He could still hear the words they'd said to each other ringing in his ears, and Sam wasn't sure how he was ever going to forgive himself.

He dropped his head into his hands and groaned. He wouldn't mind some whiskey to dull the pain he was in either. Sam only had a vague memory of the injuries the doctor had rattled off to him before he'd signed himself out against medical advice. His family needed him, and that had been more important than some bumps and bruises.

"Sam?" Bobby called as he rounded the row of cars and frowned, seeing the youngest Winchester hunched as he was.

"Yeah, Bobby?" Sam slid carefully off the hood of the car and masked his stagger, leaning on it instead.

"You, uh…you comin' in?" Bobby didn't know what to say to either of his boys. The loss of their dad this way…it had crushed them. It had certainly broken something inside of Dean. Not that he'd ever been much of the caring and sharing type, but the only thing he seemed capable of giving anyone right now was his temper. Sam, though…Bobby sighed and watched the kid straighten and walk over to him. Sam had always been the one to try and work things out, talk about things, but even he seemed to have shut down, and the rift between him and his brother was making Bobby hurt just looking at them.

"Didn't mean to worry you," Sam said as he went past and toward the house. He could see the concern in the older Hunter's eyes, but Sam had no idea what to say to him. He was grateful when Bobby let him go without a word. He slipped into the house and upstairs as quietly as he could, not wanting to disturb Dean if he was still awake somewhere. He just couldn't bear another confrontation right now. He pushed open the door to his room and sighed, closing it behind him. He wondered how pathetic Dean would think he was if he told him that he missed having his big brother in the same room at night.

"Pretty damn pathetic, Sam," he told himself and sat slowly on the edge of his bed. He bent over to take off his shoes and gasped as the ache in his back magnified. "Shit!" He leaned back up quickly and started wheezing for breath as the pain moved from his back, around his side, and tightened his chest. Sam gave up on his shoes and lay back on the bed. He stared at the ceiling and tried to get his breathing under control around the pain. He couldn't decide what hurt more - his ribs, his back, the burning from wrenched muscle in his left shoulder or the damn headache that refused to go away since he'd woken up. Finally, exhaustion pulled him slowly under to sleep past the pain.

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Sam leaned over into the freezer and grabbed the bag of frost-burned peas. He was pretty sure they'd been in there for over a year and served a purpose other than food. He grimaced, pressing the frozen bag to his left shoulder and hoped the cold would soothe the ache.

"Not much in there but ice, Sam." Bobby said and frowned at Sam's back as he jumped.

Sam shoved the peas back into the freezer and closed the door. "Uh, yeah. Need to go shopping or something." He turned and gave a wan smile to Bobby. "Where's Dean?"

"Out starin' at the car, I think." Bobby shrugged and kept an eye on Sam, noting the stiff way he walked toward the door. "Sam, you alright?" The wreck had been barely two days ago. Dean's miraculous recovery he got; something supernatural had intervened, and he knew what Dean thought had happened. Sam on the other hand…

"Yeah, Bobby. I'm good." Sam opened the back door. "I'm gonna check on him." He was still worried about Dean in spite of his mystical recovery. He couldn't get past the fact that Dad had seemed fine before…Sam's breath hitched and he stopped, covering his face with one hand and ruthlessly pulled back the tears. He couldn't afford to fall apart. Dean still needed him to keep it together whether he realized it or not.

Sam rounded the corner absently rubbing his left hand over the right side of his chest; the pain wouldn't leave. He found Dean sitting on a barrel and staring at the twisted wreck of the Impala. "Dean."

Dean gave a cursory glance at his brother and went back to staring at his car. There was no way to avoid seeing the blood spattered around the mangled interior in the light of day, and it made his heart hurt. Some of it belonged to his dad. He'd come out with the intention of pulling the seats out and starting to fix her and then saw the blood…Dad's blood, his, and Sam's, and here he sat.

"What do you want, Sam?" Dean asked tiredly. He was cold inside with a weight of knowledge that he could not tell his little brother. How could he possibly tell him what Dad had said? It would crush him. He wrapped himself in the anger instead. That, he understood. It was safe.

"I was just…I wanted to make sure you're…alright." Sam winced at his own words. "I mean, physically."

"I'm fine, Sam. Go away." Dean glared over at him and hopped down off the barrel, turning into the shop.

"Dean." Sam followed him to the door.

"Dude, seriously. Don't." Dean turned and sent a glare at him. The bruises and cuts on his little brother's face were like accusations that he'd let things get away from him. He should have found a way to avoid all this.

Sam watched his stiff shoulders and nodded. "Fine." He went back outside miserably. They needed to talk…he needed to talk, but Dean was nowhere near ready yet. He scrubbed a hand over his face and made for the house again, swallowing back the now-familiar tears and groaned. Everything would be easier to deal with if his body would just stop hurting.

Bobby came out of the house and nodded to Sam. "I'm gonna go do some shoppin'." He looked out into the yard toward where he knew the Impala was and back to Sam's too-pale face. "You be alright?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah. Hey, get pizza." He smiled sadly. "Might tempt Dean to actually eat something."

Bobby watched him take the stairs more slowly than someone his age should and the frown returned. He climbed up into his truck and decided to call and have a little chat with the doctor that had released Sam while he was out. Something was definitely 'off' with that boy.

Sam let the screen door thump closed behind him, and, as he heard Bobby's truck pulling away, he bent over the post at the bottom of the stairs. "Dammit," he moaned softly. His head was pounding, his shoulder still burning pain, and there was a spot in his back that felt like someone had their fist wedged in it. Every time he bent or turned, it screamed pain at him and stole his breath. He climbed the stairs slowly and swallowed convulsively, trying to ward off the sudden need to cough.

He made it to the top of the stairs and the cough won out. Sam bent double as the pain exploded and ran from his back to his chest. It took him to his knees, and his head began to split with an answering stab of pain behind his ear. "God," Sam groaned and wheezed in a breath, trying to breathe around the tightening in his chest, failing as his panic grew and his breaths shortened. "D…Dea…" His vision tunneled in and he felt himself fall forward, unable to stop his crash into the floor.

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Dean wandered out of the shop to look at the Impala again. He shook his head at himself and put his hands on the twisted roof. He'd heard Bobby's truck leave twenty minutes ago and hoped Sam had gone with him. At least then he'd get some damn peace from Sam's soulful, pathetic looks. He knew his brother was drowning in his own guilt, but a part of Dean felt he deserved it. It was petty, Dean knew, but he couldn't stop his brain from thinking it. He looked up in surprise as Bobby's truck reappeared and drove into the junkyard at speed before slamming to a stop outside the house in a cloud of dust.

Bobby emerged from the truck and looked over at him. "Dean! Where's Sam?"

"How the hell should I know?" He called back and walked over.

"Dammit." Bobby ran up the steps into the house. "Sam? Where are ya', son?"

"Bobby, what's going on?" Dean followed him inside, something inside him twisting uneasily, as the older man went into the front room looking for his brother. Dean looked up the stairs and had the sudden sensation of the ground falling out from under him. His brother's feet were visible at the top of the stairs, just lying there. "Sam." Dean breathed and then shouted for Bobby as he ran up the steps in a panic. "Sammy!" He climbed over Sam's prone form and rolled him carefully up into his arms. "No, no, no. Don't do this. Don't you do this!" The only thought in his head was of their father lying dead on the hospital floor and fear choked him.

"Balls!" Bobby thundered up the stairs and reached a hand out to Sam's throat. He let out a heavy breath. "He's alive. He's breathin'. Ease up, Dean." He put a hand on Dean's arm as tortured green eyes met his. "He's just passed out. It's normal."

"Normal?" Dean glared up at him over Sam's body. "How in hell is this normal?"

Bobby sighed. "Come on. Let's get him in bed first. I'll get his legs. Dean," he urged, and took Sam's legs up in his arms while Dean rose carefully with his head and shoulders. They carried him down the hall to Sam's room and put him gently in his bed.

"What the hell happened?" Dean demanded as he sat beside his brother, watching his face. He needed Sam to wake up and look at him before he'd feel alright again.

"He hasn't been looking right since you two got here, and this morning…I dunno. It looked like he was getting worse. I called the doc that let his stubborn ass walk out of the hospital." Bobby ran a hand under his ballcap and looked down at Sam with a shake of his head. "He signed himself out to take care of you and your dad, and the doc, well…he wasn't surprised when I called." Bobby nodded to Sam. "He's got a concussion, some bruised ribs, his left shoulder's wrenched somethin' fierce, and the doc said somethin' about a…thoracic joint sprain."

"What? What the hell is that?" Dean looked up at him, his whirling thoughts not seeming to completely grasp what Bobby was saying, and put a hand on his brother's chest to feel it rising and falling with his breathing.

"Means there's a sprain in his back where one of his ribs joins with his spine." Bobby shrugged. "It's not dangerous exactly, but this can happen." He waved at Sam. "Restricts his breathin' and hurts like hell. Not to mention he should'a been on his damn back with the concussion he's got."

"Stubborn son of a bitch," Dean growled down at his brother. He wiped a shaking hand down his face as the fear-driven adrenaline started to fade away.

"Doc said Sam got twisted up in the wreck." Bobby dropped his head, dealing with his own guilt at not questioning how the kid had just walked away when his father and brother had been so badly hurt.

Dean brushed his brother's hair off his forehead and frowned. "He was rubbing his ribs earlier." He closed his eyes as guilt swelled. "I ignored him. Bobby, I never even asked him…"

"Dean, son…" Bobby put a hand on his shoulder. "Ain't no one blamin' you for anything. You know he won't either when he wakes up."

"I know." Dean nodded. "And he should, but he won't."

"I'm gonna get some ice, first aid kit…" Bobby patted Dean's shoulder. "Doc said wrapping his ribs'll keep him from aggravating the sprain while it heals."

Dean listened to him leave and took his brother's face in his hands, leaning over to look at him, really seeing how pale he was under the cuts and bruises that stood out in stark relief, and a whole new wave of guilt washed over him. How could he not have seen just how badly Sam had been hurting all this time. "Sam." He slapped one side of his face lightly and Sam frowned and moaned softly. "That's it. Sammy. Wake up."

Sam blinked his eyes open in confusion, unsure why he was lying down with his brother holding his face and looking so worried. "Dean?" He thought back on the day and then remembered climbing the stairs. His eyes widened. "Oh, man."

"Yeah." Dean nodded and leaned back. "When were you planning on telling us you were hurt?"

"M'not." Sam tried to push up and rolled his eyes when Dean pushed him back down.

"Bobby called the doctor at the hospital. You're busted, little brother," Dean growled at him. "Stay put, dammit. What the hell were you thinking, Sammy? You could have been…" Dean couldn't complete the thought.

Sam raised his right hand and laid it over his head, trying to ease the pounding headache. "Sorry. I didn't think it was that bad." He closed his eyes. "Dad was hurt, and you…you were…" He broke off as his breathing started to hitch in distress.

Dean nodded. He got it, but it didn't make him like it any better. "Ok, breathe, dude." He scowled as Sam's hand came off his head and grabbed Dean's arm instead frantically. "Sammy? Take a damn breath! Bobby!"

Bobby ran up the last few stairs and down the hall in time to watch Dean lifting a gasping, panicking little brother up against his shoulder. "It's alright. It's the thor…thorass…the sprain in his back messin' with his breathing. Just calm him down."

"Sammy, come on." Dean held the side of his brother's neck and made him look at him. "Slow it down already or you're gonna pass out again. In and out, buddy."

Sam nodded and closed his eyes, concentrating on getting short breaths in and out around the squeezing in his chest. He felt Dean's hand slide over the back of his neck and the familiar gesture of comfort made him want to cry. He swallowed hard and allowed his head to drop forward onto Dean's shoulder.

"You keep him up." Bobby moved to sit behind Sam and tugged his shirts up. "Gotta wrap you up, Sam. Stay still."

Sam raised his head a little with a frown. "Don't have…broken…ribs."

"No, you've got a sprain in your damn spine." Dean kept his brother sitting up straight and held his shirt out of the way while Bobby started wrapping a bandage around his chest. "It's why you're having trouble." He ducked to meet Sam's eyes. "If you'd stayed in the damn hospital like you were supposed to, you'd know that."

"Oh." Sam said softly and closed his eyes to focus on keeping his breathing under control. He had to admit, it was getting easier as Bobby pulled the bandage more firmly in place and he dropped his head back down in relief.

"Stupid, stubborn, jackass." Dean groaned and shook his head.

Bobby snorted. "Can't imagine where he learned that from." He said in a voice heavy with sarcasm and pulled Sam's shirts back down over the bandage, ignoring the pissed look on Dean's face. "Lay him back, gently."

Dean eased his brother back to the bed while Bobby got out of the way and watched Sam's face ease of some of the pain. "How's your head?" He snarled when his little brother tried to turn his head away and grabbed his jaw, making him sit still while he checked his eyes, relieved to see them reacting as they should at least.

Sam lay quietly through Dean and Bobby's ministrations. They manhandled him to check his shoulder and made him take painkillers, the good stuff, and so he was starting to feel like his head was floating above the bed when Dean sat beside him again. "Hey, Dean."

Dean snorted and rolled his eyes. "You should have told me, Sam."

"When?" Sam asked suddenly and stared up at him. "You were…and Dad…I didn't think about it, alright?" He shook his head and looked out the window rather than at his brother. "It wasn't bad, really, until…I don't even know. It sort of snuck up on me."

Dean nodded and stood, dropping a hand to Sam's shoulder before heading to the door. "Still should have told me. You scared the hell out of me, Sam."

Sam looked back up at him and then realized what it must have looked like; finding him lying at the top of the stairs like that. "God, Dean. I'm sorry. I really am." He watched his brother give a nod before leaving, and Sam choked on the apology. Tears sprang into his eyes because how badly did he wish he could have said those words to his father? He put his hand over his face and fought the hiccupping breaths. Crying wouldn't change anything, and he couldn't afford to fall apart and have Dean think he couldn't trust him.

"Sam?" Bobby asked softly as he came in the room. It hurt his heart watching Sam hurriedly wipe tears from his face and then gamely smile for him as though he was alright.

"Painkillers." Sam scrubbed his hand over his face and took a few deep, careful breaths. "Making me fuzzy."

"Right." Bobby took the blanket he'd brought in and spread it over Sam with a practiced twitch. He patted the boy's leg with a gruff smile. "Take it easy for a bit. World ain't goin' anywhere."

"An hour or two. Ok." Sam closed his eyes as he heard the sounds of screeching metal outside; Dean was starting on the car. He knew the hospital was releasing their father's body to them later in the evening. He had to be there for Dean. He let the painkillers take him out of himself, floating in the quiet room with Bobby's footsteps downstairs and Dean trying to beat the Impala back into shape outside. "I'm sorry, Dad," Sam whispered and let sleep take him while it could.

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The End.

Next Up: Saphhire Draco