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 ElizaT – (I have abridged her prompt and tried to make it easier to understand as English is not her first language though she does VERY well. :D)

Set after 4x07 "It's the Great Pumpkin, Sam Winchester", Sam hurt more on account of exorcism and stressed with all the pressure, disoriented from the pain and blood loss has a heated discussion with Dean, showing jealousy because Dean is always on the 'good' side with Angels and god while Sam is always on the 'bad' and never has a choice. It takes a toll and he becomes very sick. Dean, still upset, takes care of him and hurt/comfort ensues as he understands what his brother's been feeling. Lots of limp Sam, hurt/comfort and angst and yes some humor too.

A/N: This is, obviously, a tag to 4x07 and hopefully I've done a fair job of squeezing this into the episode and stayed mostly canon. :D Hope you enjoy this dear!

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 drove with his eyes solidly on the road and definitely not on his little brother who was still trying to stop the damn nosebleed. He'd told him…he'd BEGGED him not to use his powers. Use the knife, Sam, he'd begged, and what did he do? First chance he gets, he goes all 'Shining' on Samhain instead. He glared at the road, breathing through his nose for patience and to resist the urge to just stop the car and beat the shit out of the little brother he was trying so hard to save but who seemed to be fighting him at every turn. He pulled into the motel and slammed out of the car and into the room, leaving Sam to get himself inside. He went into the bathroom, decided looking at himself wasn't going to do any good, and came back out to find Sam pushing the door closed and staring at the floor like a kicked puppy with the rag still held under his nose.

"What, Sam? What?" Dean's voice was barely below a shout and he fought to bring it back down.

"Dean, I didn't mean to," Sam said in a low voice, muffled around the rag and he finally brought his eyes up to his brother's. "I didn't have a choice."

"Bullshit, Sam! Bullshit!" Dean was yelling now and just couldn't hold back the anger anymore. His fuse was a lot shorter since his return from Hell. "You had a choice. I begged you to use the damn knife and you just couldn't do it!"

"Dean! I…"

"No! You lied to me, Sam." Dean stepped forward and put a finger in his face. "I asked you to do this one thing! You realize there are damn angels on your ass because of this shit? All you had to do was use the knife!"

"He was gonna kill me!" Sam yelled it back, goaded into defending himself because, dammit, he had tried to keep his promise. "Do you get that? I had two choices, Dean!" He threw the blood-soaked rag across the room and gave Dean his own angry glare. "Die or kill him first! He got the knife away from me! I was pinned to the damn wall! Was I supposed to ask him nice to give me my knife back?" Sam advanced a step in his fury. "Or is that what's pissed you off? You agree with the angels." Sam's chest heaved with the crushing weight of guilt that the angels he had always prayed too wanted him dead, wished him dead. "You wish I'd died in there! Is that it? 'Cuz that was the only other alternative, Dean." He swiped a hand under his nose at the blood that wouldn't stop flowing.

"What?" Dean's temper suddenly stalled as Sam's words rang in his ears, but Sam had his own head of steam up now.

"I prayed, Dean. You know I did!" Sam turned and threw a fist into the wall with a laugh that sounded half-crazed even to him. "Fucking angels! I prayed to them all my life and they hate me!" He turned back to his big brother with a snarl. "But not you. No, never you. You never even believed, but you they trust and save and carry out of Hell, and what do I get? Poisoned in my damn crib by a demon and crapped on for the rest of my life!"

He was heaving for air and could feel the blood still running even as his head threatened to split in two. Sam knew he should stop and try to do…something. "I'm evil. You're good, and that's it. That's it!" He went to his knees as the room spun and his head filled with a buzzing that blotted out all other sound. "Fucking…I'm evil. I should…I should be dead. You're righ…right. Should have let him kill me."

Dean stared at Sam, appalled at what he was hearing and seeing what it was doing to his brother. "Jesus, Sam. Stop!" Dean knelt down in front of him and grabbed his brother's shoulders. "Sam? Dude, you gotta calm down. Sam!" He watched Sam screw his eyes shut as if in agony and winced at the blood still leaking from his nose to turn his shirt red. "Sam, come on." In answer, Sam collapsed into him and Dean fell to his butt with a lap full of little brother. "Sammy? Shit!"

Dean rolled him over and put a hand to Sam's blood-slicked throat. The feel of his heart beating comforted him. Whatever else was wrong, he was still alive. His own heart had a few new cracks in it with Sam's bitter words that had pierced right through his anger and frustration to cut deep into his soul. It hadn't really occurred to him to think of it like that, but Sam had a point. It was like heaven and hell were choosing sides in the Winchester family to drive them apart somehow, and Sam always seemed to get the short end of the stick but how could Sam possibly think that he actually agreed with wanting him – "Oh, God, Sam…I'm sorry." The words were barely more than a whisper, but he knew Sam couldn't hear him anyway. Badly shaken himself, he just held his brother for a moment longer before realizing he had to do something…anything.

"Ok, buddy." Dean pulled Sam's upper body into his chest and struggled to his feet with the dead weight. He could feel warm blood wetting the shoulder of his shirt and tried not to let it panic him more than he already was. Dean dragged his brother to the far bed and laid him down on it, picking up his legs and shoving them up until he had him on his back. He ran to the bathroom and wet a towel, then came back and sat, pressing it against his brother's nose. "Gotta stop this." He smoothed a hand over Sam's forehead, brushing the shaggy hair aside and frowned; he was warmer than he should be. He dropped his head and tried to figure out when his whole world had gone sideways. Dean snorted angrily. "Right. I made a deal," He said softly. He looked down at Sam's slack face and leaned over him. "I'd do it again, Sam. Savin' you's all I've ever had, and I'd do it again. You hear me? You do NOT deserve to die." His words were fierce and he meant every word.

Dean pulled the rag away and nodded; the bleeding seemed to have stopped for the moment. He looked down at Sam's shirts and swallowed. It was disturbing on a visceral level to see that much of Sam's blood on him, life-threatening or not. Dean gently pulled him up and leaned his brother against his chest while he pushed his jacket off and then worked at tugging his shirts off of him. He laid his brother back and only just stopped himself from running a blood covered hand through his hair.

He went to the bathroom and washed his hands then grabbed another towel, wetting it with cold water and took it back out. Dean laid it over his brother's forehead and snarled as Sam's nose started bleeding again. "Aw, what the hell?" He grabbed the other rag again and pressed it under his nose. He briefly toyed with the idea of calling Castiel but shucked that notion away, unsure if the angel would be willing to help his brother or if he even could.

"Sam." Dean leaned over as his brother moaned softly. He watched Sam's eyes move under his lids and a tremor went through his body before his eyes shot open and he lurched up. "Whoa! Take it easy!" Dean pushed his shoulders back to the bed and resettled the cold towel on his head. "You're ok. I've got you." There was panic in Sam's eyes for a moment, and then something that looked like disbelief. "Sammy?"

Sam clamped a hand around Dean's wrist, needing the reassurance that he really was there and closed his eyes. "Sorry. I…I forget sometimes…when I sleep."

"Forget what?" Dean asked, watching his brother scowl and then it hit him. "I really am here, Sammy. You're not alone anymore." He felt the tension slowly go out of Sam's body and the grip Sam had on his wrist loosened marginally. "Sam." Dean waited until his eyes cracked open to look at him. "You know I've never, ever, wished you dead, right? I mean, you'd have to be a special kinda stupid to think I'd ever think that." His green eyes were locked on Sam's hazel ones, unwavering in their intensity.

"I…" Sam stopped and tried to think back on the things he'd said. His memory was fuzzy around the edges and none of it was clear, but he remembered enough. "No. No, I know that. I'm sorry." He reached up and took the rag from Dean, pulling it off his nose. "I just…I can't help but feel like…no matter what, I'm destined to be…"

"Fuck destiny, Sam," Dean said forcefully. "I mean it, man. I'm not meant to be good any more than you're meant to be evil. That's crap and you know it."

Sam shook his head slowly as pain pounded through it. "The angels said…"

"I don't give a crap what they said!" Dean took a breath, calming himself. Sam didn't need his anger right now. "Don't you let them twist up your head worse than it already is, Sam. We have free will. We can choose, and you…you've always chosen to save people. Hell, you've fought me to save some of the damn monsters, and you were right." He sighed and gave his brother a rueful smile. "You're a better person than me, Sammy. Always were."

"No. No, Dean." Sam struggled to push himself up in the bed with a groan. When that didn't work, he settled for tightening his grip on his brother's arm. "Why can't you ever see that you ARE good, Dean. You've been a hero to me since I was four. If I'm a good person, it's because you've taught me that."

"This ain't about me." Dean peeled Sam's fingers off his arm and stood. "This is about you and you thinking the world'd be better off if you were dead. That's crap, Sam." He went to the little refrigerator and took out a bottle of water then went to his bag and dug out the bottle of painkillers.

"Dean. I've screwed a lot of things up." Sam stopped because it was true and Dean had no idea the depth to which he'd sunk. He took a breath. "I need you to believe…I didn't have a choice with Samhain." He looked up as Dean came back and sat beside him. "He was killing me, and…and I was afraid that if he did, then he'd kill you too." He whispered it and shook his head. "I don't know…maybe if I'd done something different, if he hadn't…hadn't gotten the knife away from me…"

"Alright. Alright. Stop." Dean put a hand back on Sam's shoulder as his breath started to hitch with emotion. He blew out a breath. "I believe you, ok?" He started to say Sam could have waited for him and then shook his head. Sam would likely be dead. "I'm still pissed, but…I get it." He took the towel off his forehead and stood. He handed him the pills and the water. "Take these."

Sam swallowed the pills and took the moment Dean was in the bathroom to close his eyes and let the pain beat against him. Killing Samhain had cost him more than he was used to, and, frankly, he was a little scared. He jumped when Dean's weight settled on the bed next to him again.

"Easy." Dean laid the towel across Sam's forehead again. "You're runnin' some kind of freaky fever here, dude. Does this…I mean, is this…normal?"

Sam shrugged, grimacing at the headache. "The pain…the nosebleed, yeah. Not usually this long, but Samhaim – not your garden variety demon. Wasn't sure I could…" His voice trailed off for a moment. "I don't…I don't know about the fever. I've never really paid attention."

Dean nodded and said nothing. It hurt him deeply that they'd been apart so long that there were things he no longer knew about his little brother. "You know why you doing this pisses me off, right?" He raised a brow when Sam looked questioningly up at him. "Because it hurts you, jackass. I can't protect you from your own damn head, Sam."

"You don't have to." Sam groaned as the pain ramped up behind his eyes.

"Apparently, I do." Dean said softly and wrapped his hand around the side of his brother's neck. "Breathe, Sammy. Breathe through it. How long's this usually last?"

Sam shook his head and couldn't stop another pained moan from escaping him. "Think maybe…blew a few…fuses killing him."

"Not fillin' me with an over-abundance of confidence here, dude." Dean smirked and then frowned as he watched his brother slam his eyes closed again and swallow several times. "You gonna hurl?" Sam gave him a quick nod. "Shit." Dean lurched up and across the room, grabbed the little can and was back in time to help his brother roll to his side and throw up what little he'd eaten that day. Dean grimaced, seeing the amount of blood in the can and comforted himself knowing it was just from the stupid nosebleed.

Sam coughed and spit and would have face-planted off the bed if not for his brother's hands pulling and rolling him back. "Thanks." He said hoarsely.

Dean set the can aside and handed him the bottle of water again, helping to hold his head up while he took a few swallows. He set it aside and smirked. "Hey, think the puke-fest made your fever go away."

Sam groaned and wrapped a hand around his aching head. "Awesome." He looked down at himself and his bare, blood-spotted chest and his eyes widened. "Dude, when'd I take my shirts off?"

Dean snorted softly. "Wow. Can't put anything past you." He handed Sam the damp rag he'd had on his head. "Here. Clean yourself up a little." He turned around and wrestled Sam's sneakers off his feet then stood and tugged the blanket out from under him.

"Dean, I'm not five." Sam protested, yet made no move to fight about it and, in fact, curled over on his side as Dean pulled the blanket up to his shoulders. He just didn't have any fight left in him right then, and having his big brother there and alive to do all the things he'd missed so much…Sam turned his face into the pillow to hide the tears that refused his control.

Dean sensed it anyway even as Sam hid his face. He dropped a hand to his brother's shoulder for a moment. "We'll figure this out, Sam." He sighed. "Somehow. Get some sleep." He pulled off his own jacket and tossed it to a chair, kicked off his boots and rolled onto his own bed wearily. Nothing about this mess made any sense and everything felt…wrong… since he'd come back. Dean glanced over to Sam - some things more wrong than others, and, still, taking care of his brother felt right and comfortable. He sighed and closed his eyes. He'd deal with tomorrow tomorrow.

"Stop thinking so hard," Sam said softly from the other bed and made Dean startle. He opened his eyes and smirked over at his big brother. "You're keeping me up."

Dean stared and then chuckled, rolling his eyes. "Shut up." He rolled over and punched his pillow before settling his head in it. "You're such a girl." There was a moment of silence and then Dean spoke again. "Ya know….I've really come to hate those powers of yours and what it does to you, and I'd be really happy if they disappeared tomorrow, but…dude, you took out freakin' Samhaim. I don't even want to admit it, but…damn! That's sorta impressive."

Sam actually turned to stare at him in surprise. Dean caught the look and glared back. "Don't think for a second that means I approve, or that I ever want you to do it again. I'm just sayin'…"

Sam turn back into his pillow and closed his eyes again with a smile and a silent resolution to do better and deserve the trust and care Dean gave him, even after the kind of monumental mistakes he made. "I'm sorry, Dean," He whispered it, needing Dean to understand and believe him.

Dean sighed again. "I know, Sammy. Just go to sleep."

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The End.

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