Title: Reader's Special: First Edition - One Shot Reward Fic Collection

Author: Disasteriffic Kaz

Info: A collection of One Shot Reward Fics for Prompters of my Reader's Special: First Edition. Features many seasons, hurt/limp/awesome/caring!Sam/Dean/John/Bobby See each chapter for specific info for each one shot reward fic.

Author's Note: The Reader's Special: First Edition was such brilliant fun thanks to all the wonderful people who prompted the story for each chapter that I offered each prompter a One Shot Reward fic of their choice. None of the chapters contained in this Fic 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!

Chapter Info: For Hinfallend: I would love to read about Sam going into a hunters bar after Dean goes to hell and getting into a fight. Before Ruby because I don't like it when Sam is high off of demon blood. It would work best from one of the other hunter's point of view because I want it to be describing Sam. I also want it mentioned about how strange it is to see Sam without Dean if you decide that the hunter community doesn't know that Dean is in hell.

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"Jerry, you got the worst damn poker face this side of the Mississippi." Frank slapped a twenty in the center of the table with a grin. "Call."

"Ah dammit, Frank." Jerry looked down at his useless cards and tossed them away with a groan.

"Why you always wanna play poker when you know you suck?" Frank laughed and swept the cowboy hat off his head, pulling the money into it and slapping it back on his head.

Jerry waved to the bartender for another pitcher of beer. The Whistle Stop was a dive bar outside St. Lawrence on a backwater road with a railroad that ran behind it and most people, normal people, would walk in, take one look around and leave if they had any smarts. This particular bar was frequented by Hunters. He glanced at the bar full of scarred and fierce faces, mostly men but there were a few women too. Jerry always kept his distance from them; they could be surlier than the men on a good day. If Hunting the supernatural hardened a man, it turned a woman into something he didn't want to get caught in a dark alley with.

"Dude, is that…?" Frank nodded toward the door where a tall, gargantuan of a man had just stepped in.

"Holy crap, it's Sam Winchester." Jerry nodded and watched as the tall, dark haired man went straight to the bar and sat down. He'd bumped into him a few times at the old Road House, before Demons had burnt it down and he'd always seemed like a nice kid. Now though, Jerry frowned as he studied him. There was something different. There was a look of abject loss on the kids' face that made Jerry squirm and he wondered what had happened.

"Where's his brother?" Frank kept watching the door. "Those two never go anywhere without the other. I'm gonna go buy him a drink." Frank started to stand and Jerry tugged his arm until he sat back down.

"No,man. Leave him be."

"What? Why?" Frank stared at him, confused.

"Something's not right with the kid, man." Jerry shook his head. In their line of work you could smell loss on someone and more, you knew when someone was wound too tight. "Look at 'im."

Another Hunter at the bar and two of his buddies, obviously too far gone already to read the signs had the same idea as Frank. Jerry watched them saunter over to Sam, slap him on the back and saw the dark look Sam aimed at them before turning away in dismissal. They didn't take the hint. He heard, over the hubbub of the bar the taller man ask Sam where his keeper was and Jerry cringed as Sam's shoulders tightened with the insult but still he said nothing and didn't turn around, just signaled the waitress for another shot of whatever he was drinking.

"Why do I get the feeling shit's about to go wrong here?" Frank asked suddenly and Jerry smirked.

"Cause you aint stupid drunk like those idiots." Jerry sat back and smiled as a waitress brought over another pitcher. "What's goin' on over there?" He asked her, nodding toward the bar.

She scowled. "Those boys don't know enough to leave Sam Winchester be." She set the pitcher down and leaned over. "Look, I probably shouldn't even say but Ellen Harvelle was through here yesterday." She glanced back at Sam, sorrow on her face. "Dean Winchester's dead."

"What?" Jerry lurched forward in shock, Frank with him. "What the hell happened?"

The waitress shrugged. "I don't know but he's gone, not a week in the ground yet and if those boys don't leave his brother…" She didn't get to finish as shouts erupted from the bar. Jerry leaned around the waitress to see Sam Winchester on his feet, face furious and two men on the floor. The third aimed a punch at Sam's face that connected and whipped his head to the side. Sam just turned back to look at him and shot a leg out, taking the man in the stomach and sent him to the floor in a gasping heap.

"Whatever they said they sure pissed him off." Frank said, awed. Jerry nodded and watched. The other two men were back on their feet and advanced on Sam, backing him into the bar. Sam showed no interest in defusing the situation. Instead, there was a look of almost pleasure on his face as they tackled him. He seemed to want the fight and took the elbow to his gut with a grunt before driving his fist into the guy's chin and sending him reeling backwards. The Hunter who'd started the whole thing picked up a stool and cracked Sam over the back with it, sending the young man to his knees in a daze.

Jerry stood with a quick look at Frank who nodded; they weren't going to watch the kid get beaten. Other men were drifting toward the fight as Hunters rarely turned down an opportunity for drunken mayhem and the fight quickly spread into a brawl with the younger Winchester taking the brunt of the hits. He was being held by two men, one on each arm but that didn't stop Sam from delivering a crippling kick to the knees of the man punching him. He went to his knees again as one of the men holding him cracked him over the back of the head and this time he was slow in getting up.

Jerry and Frank waded into the fight, pushing men out of the way and Jerry cheerfully punched out one of the jackasses who'd started harassing the kid in the first place. They reached Sam, each one grabbing an arm and pulled him to his feet when Sam started struggling.

"Knock it off, Winchester." Jerry yelled in his ear. "We're trying to get you out of here in one piece."

"Lemme 'lone." Sam growled at them and shook off their hands. "Don' need help." Frank waved a hand in front of his face.

"Crap, Jer, he's already pickled." Frank shook his head, feeling for the guy.

Sam straightened his shoulders and turned back to the fight. Jerry shrugged. "You'll thank me later." He said to Sam's back. He grabbed the kids' shoulder and spun him around and then planted a solid fist on his jaw. Sam's eyes rolled back in his head and he went down, caught between Frank and Jerry on his way to the floor. "Let's get him clear of this mess." Frank nodded and they dragged the senseless man out of the bar while the fight raged on behind them, no longer needing Sam Winchester to carry on.

They got outside and then stood there, Sam sagging between them and took in a few lungfuls of cold air. "Well now what do we do with him?" Frank asked.

Jerry spotted an Impala a few spots away and nodded. "That's Dean's…well I guess it's his now." He looked down at the shaggy head and sighed. "Come on, help me get him in. There's that motel up the road. We'll get him a room and he can sober up there. You can pay for it with all that cash you won off me."

Frank snorted and helped carry Sam down the row of cars. "What do you suppose happened to his brother?"

Jerry shrugged. "Hold him up?" Frank took the considerable weight, grunting with the effort while Jerry searched Sam's pockets and finally came up with the keys. He opened the passenger door and helped Frank pour the kid in, belting him into the seat and closed the door.

"Think we should call someone?" Frank asked as Jerry walked around to the driver's side.

"Who?" Jerry opened the door and got behind the wheel. "Kid didn't have any family left but his brother."

"I guess." Frank shut the door for his buddy and went to get their truck. He waited for the Impala to rumble out of the lot ahead of him and followed the few miles down the road.

Jerry couldn't shake the feeling that he didn't belong in this car behind the wheel. He was enjoying the throaty growl of the engine but he wanted to be out of it as fast as possible. Hunters always burned their dead so he knew Dean's ghost wasn't haunting the car or anything but for a moment it sure felt like something was watching and unimpressed with him. He watched Frank shoot ahead of him on the dark road in their truck and waved, figuring he was going to get the room before they got there. He was right. He pulled into the parking lot of the Freestar Motel and Frank was waving at him from the far end of the building. Jerry pulled in and parked, gratefully turning off the engine and got out, rounding the car.

"Got the door open. Let's get the behemoth inside." Frank helped Jerry pull Sam out of the car, still senseless. "Geez, Jer, how hard' you hit him?"

Jerry chuckled. "Kid's drunk man. Didn't have to hit him that hard." They heaved and grunted, stumbling into the room and finally deposited their burden on the bed by the door.

"I paid him up for a day." Frank wiped sweat off his brow and looked around the dingy, brown room. "Figure if he wakes up and wants to stay longer, he can."

"Mmmf." Sam groaned and rolled on the bed to his stomach, burying his face in one of the pillows. "Dean." He mumbled and Jerry sighed, heart breaking for the kid. He went to the other bed and tugged the blanket off the top then gave it a snap and spread it over Sam.

"Get his shoes off." Jerry said, wrestling Sam's jacket off him.

"Dude." Frank argued but he did bend over and tug off Sam's shoes. "You goin' soft on me?"

Jerry resettled the blanket and looked down at the shaggy hair, all he could see of Sam's head at the moment. "I had a little brother." Jerry said softly. "Died when we were kids."

Frank hissed in a breath and his shoulders slumped. "Damn, Jer. I didn't know."

Jerry shrugged. "Nothin' to tell. Just…" He shrugged again. "Just figure if it were me, I'd want someone to watch out for him, you know?"

Frank nodded. "Yeah. Ok. Look." He rolled his eyes, amused at himself. "Gotta be salt in his car. We should pour the lines for the kid before we go, huh?"

Jerry gave him a grateful smile and nodded. "Good idea."

They dug a salt canister out of the Impala's trunk and Jerry pulled out what he figured was Sam's duffel and took that inside too. They poured salt at the door and the window and flipped off the lights, leaving Sam Winchester facedown under his pillow, snoring the sleep of the blissfully drunk as they shut the door and stood outside.

"So, what do you wanna do now?" Frank asked and looked over to see a smile spread on Jerry's face.

"Go back to the Whistle Stop." Jerry rubbed his hands together and headed for the truck, sliding in the passenger side as Frank got behind the wheel and chuckled.

"You planning on dishing out a little ass kicking for the kid's big brother?" Frank laughed as Jerry nodded. "You are an old softie."

"Gonna be a couple heads in that bar who'll argue with ya come morning." Jerry said and cracked his knuckles as they pulled out leaving the Impala and her broken owner behind.

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The End.