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 Colby's girl: If I could have a one shot about Sam being hurt somehow by Dean or because of Dean's actions or decision on a hunt. Then Dean taking care of Sam's injuries all the while talking through the guilt. Hmmm. Is that ok? Set in season 1 or 2.

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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"Sam, dammit. Let it go already." Dean groaned and turned back to the dartboard with a growl, throwing for and hopelessly missing the bull's-eye as his hand shook with temper. The bar was thankfully busy enough that no one really paid attention to their raised voices. Most of the patrons of this fine, greasy establishment seemed to be Bikers and they likely wouldn't care if an all-out brawl broke out.

"Dean, you're still pissed at me!" Sam pushed. It was eating him up inside, the things he had said to Dean while brain washed by a psychotic ghost and worse; he'd shot him. He'd shot his own brother; ok it was only rock salt and the wounds were healing but he'd shot him and ghostly possession or not Dean didn't seem to be putting it behind him quite as easily as he claimed.

"it's fine, Sam." Dean threw another dart, glancing off the edge of the board this time and raised his hand to lob the third when Sam stepped in between him and the dart board. He restrained the urge to throw it anyway and lowered his arm. "Better door than a window, Sam. Get the hell out of the way."

"Dean…" Sam started but Dean took his shoulders in a steely grip and pulled him away, spinning him back toward the table and their beers. He collided with the table, nearly knocking the beers over.

"I do NOT want to have this discussion, Sam." Dean growled.

"This little shit giving you trouble?" A tattooed biker clothed in black leather and chains stood up from the table beyond theirs.

"Yeah, he's an ass." Dean said and scrubbed a hand over his face. He tossed the last dart on the table. "I'm hitting the head. Shut up, Sam." He told his brother's open mouth and walked away to the back of the bar. He pushed through the door, slamming it behind him and bent over the sink. He rubbed a hand over his chest and the healing blisters. He supposed he should be grateful he'd been wearing several layers and a heavy jacket when his little brother had pumped a rock salt round into him. The pain of that betrayal still burned through him. He understood Sam had had Dr. Strangelove in his head at the time but the words had been his; of that he was sure. Those thoughts were rattling around the kids' head and the Doc had just given them an outlet.

He looked up into the mirror and saw disgust with himself all over his face. He did understand some of the resentment Sam was feeling. He was smart enough to understand that their Dad's iron adherence to the Hunt had driven Sam away and that Dean had stepped into that role with him after Jess' death. At the time, Sam had needed it. They both had. Sam was in danger of sailing off the deep end of the revenge pier along with their Dad and Dean didn't want to see that happen. He was just trying to give Sam a direction other than hate. He sighed and aimed a halfhearted punch at the mirror. As much as he wanted to find their Dad he also feared what would happen when they did and Sam…how was he going to explain to their Dad that Sam had the friggin shining? Like the kid didn't have enough crap heaped on him already, now he had to deal with seeing the future.

"Dammit." Dean turned the water on and splashed some on his face. He owed his little brother an apology, he knew it. He could see the pain and guilt of what had happened in the asylum in every line of his brother's body but dammit he wanted to be pissed at him. A commotion outside the bathroom drew Dean's head up. He heard shouts, a crash and rolled his eyes. "Great." Someone had started a brawl. Time to find his little brother and get out before they got caught up in it. He dried his face on his sleeve and pulled the door open.

Dean headed for their table and frowned, seeing a wall of leather clad bikers disturbingly close to where he'd left Sam. He shoved two people out of his way, pushing to the front and his jaw dropped. Sam was being held between two burly Hell's Angels while a third drove his fist mercilessly into his unprotected stomach. Their table was over turned as were several others and at least four of the men standing around him boasted signs that Sam hadn't given it without a fight. A meaty hand settled on Dean's shoulder and turned him to face a whisky heavy grin.

"We're takin' care of him for ya." The man said with a laugh and Dean, after a moment, realized it was the guy who'd asked if Sam was giving him trouble before he'd gone to the bathroom.

"Oh my god." Dean breathed as guilt fell into his stomach like a stone. This was his fault. Dean didn't bother trying to argue. He stepped forward and grabbed the arm of the man aiming another punch at Sam's head and ruthlessly twisted it back, landing his own solid hit to his jaw and let him topple to the floor. "Get the hell off my brother." Dean told the men holding him. He resisted the urge to pull the gun from the small of his back, not wanting to up the violence level unless he had to. He glared at the men, letting them see just how much damage he was going to do to them if they didn't listen. They did, dropping Sam's arms and let him fall. Dean jumped forward and caught Sam around the chest before he could hit the floor. "Sammy?"

Sam got his head up with a fight, blinking at his brother. "Dean?"

"Hang on, buddy." Dean pulled his arm over his shoulder and straightened, glaring at the circle of onlookers as he aimed for the door. Thankfully, they all seemed to read the danger in his green eyes and stepped out of his way, letting them pass. Sam was walking on sheer willpower, verging on unconsciousness. They emerged into the cool night air and Dean heaved a sigh of relief to have escaped without having to tear the place up.

"S…sorry, Dean." Sam mumbled, head lolling until it rolled onto his brother's shoulder.

"Shh, Sammy." Dean quieted him. "Not your fault." He got them to the car, opened the passenger door and eased Sam into the seat. He bent to put his feet in and hissed between his teeth. Sam's right pant leg was torn up and leaking blood from a long gash. The guilt rose up to choke him as he gently put his brother's leg inside and closed the door. He leaned on the roof for a minute and stared out at nothing. "What the hell did I do?" He shook his head and went around to the drivers' side, sliding in behind the wheel as the bar door opened and two of the men who'd jumped Sam came out, glancing around the lot. Dean gunned the engine and pulled out in a squeal of tires.

They hadn't stopped for the night when Dean had pulled into the bar, in need of a drink. He drove with purpose, eyes scanning for the first Motel he could find. He had one hand on the wheel and the other on his brother's shoulder, propping him up. He felt a trickle of something arm slide over his fingers and moved his hand up to the nape of Sam's neck, cursing when he felt more blood and understood how they'd gotten the best of him; someone had cracked him over the back of the head.

"Sam? You with me?" Dean squeezed his neck and got a groan in response. "Good enough." He saw a sign for the Penny Wise Motel and turned off, following the dark road until the sign appeared over a rise. Dean parked in front of the office. "Back in a sec, Sam." He told his brother. Though Sam's head shifted, he wasn't sure he actually heard. He rented them a room in record time, back in the car in under five minutes. Sam had slid over to rest his head against the passenger door and barely stirred as Dean climbed back in and got them moving again.

He parked in front of their room, darting out to get the door open and lights on before returning to the car and his brother. He unclipped the seat belt and turned Sam's shoulders to face him. "Sam? Gotta wake up for me, man." Sam's head bobbed on his shoulders and he raised one arm weakly to rest on Dean's shoulder. "That's my boy." Dean pulled him up, careful of his wounded leg and got him standing. He pushed the door shut and grunted when Sam gave way and collapsed. "Crap." Having no alternative, he bent and tipped Sam over his shoulder, carrying him inside the room. He laid him gently on the bed furthest from the door.

"Don't go anywhere." Dean said and ran back outside to grab their bags from the trunk. Sam hadn't moved when he returned and went through his bag, pulling out the first aid kit and the bottles of water he'd grabbed from the trunk. He set them on the bed next to Sam and went about getting his jacket off him, not as easy as it seemed with a boneless sasquatch. He laid Sam back, trying not to panic at the red stain left on the pillow from his head.

He turned to Sam's leg and pulled off his shoes then grabbed the scissors from the kit. "Sorry, buddy. Have to get you some new jeans." Dean said with a smirk and cut up the front of the right let, laying the pieces of denim to the side so he could get a better look at the gash. It was long and jagged and was going to have to be stitched closed. He popped the cap on one of the water bottles and poured it into the wound, irrigating it and hopefully washing out anything that would cause an infection. Sam moaned and shifted.

"Dean?" Sam raised his head slightly, looking blearily up at his big brother and then around the room, brows rising. "When'd we get here?"

Dean shook his head and laughed. "About thirty seconds before your lights went out." He pressed some gauze over the gash, making Sam wince and then went to sit up beside him. "Let's get you up. I need to see the gash you've got back there."

Sam nodded slowly and started to push himself up, letting Dean pull his shoulders. As soon as he was sitting the room did a lazy spin and he dropped his head to Dean's shoulder with a groan. "Holy crap."

"Easy, Sammy." Dean shifted him slightly so he could see the back of his head and heard Sam sigh. "You ok?"

Sam shrugged awkwardly against him. "Haven't called me that in a few days." Sam mumbled, letting his eyes close.

Dean stiffened with guilt, closing his eyes and then pushed it away. "I'm…I'm sorry, Sammy." He pulled the long, dark hair out of his way and pressed another gauze pad to the cut he found. It was small and would likely close on its own. "I didn't think…when I left you there…shit."

"S'okay." Sam told him, wincing as Dean pressed into his head to stop the bleeding. "You didn't know…those idiots were…spoiling for a fight." Sam breathed in the scents that were his brother; leather and gun oil and relaxed into him. "Shoulda been…paying attention." He remembered the start of the fight; the two bikers who had flanked his table as Dean vanished into the bathroom, their arms reaching for him as he stepped back and delivered a sharp kick to the face of one, another tackling him from behind into the table, the sharp pain as a broken bottle gouged into his calf. He'd rolled with the hit and knocked two more down, getting to his feet and never saw the hit that took him in the back of the head. It was all fuzzy after that. "Some Hunter…I am."

"Knock it off, Sam." Dean said, more sharply than he intended and felt Sam stiffen against him. He shook his head at himself, somehow unable to stop hurting the kid. He checked the cut, satisfied the bleeding had stopped and laid Sam back down. "This wasn't your fault. You're a friggin awesome Hunter, Sam." He felt himself blush lightly as Sam stared in surprise at him. "Guess I don't say that enough huh?" He rubbed a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry, man. I've been beating you up over the asylum and…I shouldn't." He stood and pulled a chair over to sit by Sam's leg, peeling the blood soaked gauze away. "I'm gonna have to stitch this."

"Dean…" Sam took a breath, trying not to screw up whatever had made his brother finally decide to talk to him. "I swear I did not mean any of the things I said in there." Sam looked down at his brother's chest. Even with his shirt on, Sam could still see the vicious red and bleeding welts he'd caused. "I fought him, Dean. I swear I did. I tried not to…to pull the trigger." Sam had to close his eyes on the sense memory of the gun going off in his hands. He was still having nightmares where the handgun Dean had handed him was loaded.

"Sam." Dean's hand on his arm made him open his eyes and Dean flinched at the tortured look there.

"I shot you, Dean." Sam whispered. "I would never…never."

"Stop it, Sam. I know." Dean gave his arm a light shake and went back to his leg. He took out the suture kit and laid it on the bed, threading the needle. "Just…lay back and lemme do this."

Sam let his head fall back to the pillow, relieved that they were at least speaking again. He flinched as he felt the needle bite into his leg and did his best to ignore it, biting his bottom lip and focused instead on the pounding in his head and the dull ache in his stomach from the punches he'd taken there. He didn't realize he'd passed out until he came too with Dean wiping a cold, wet cloth over his forehead.

"Easy, Sammy." Dean soothed and kept a hand on his shoulder when he tried to sit up. "Don't move, ok?" Sam gave a weak nod, not opening his eyes. "How's your head?"

"Hurts." Sam managed after a minute. He lifted his head to look down at the throbbing pain in his leg and that ended up being a mistake. His concussion suddenly kicked in full force and he felt his stomach start to crawl up his throat. "Dea…"

"Crap." Dean quickly grabbed the trashcan and pulled it over with one arm while rolling Sam to his side with the other and just in time as what little Sam had drank at the bar came back up. "Breathe, Sam. Just breathe." Sam ended with his head hanging over the side of the bed, panting for air as he rested on his brother's leg. Dean eased him back up slowly until he was lying down again and smoothed the shaggy hair off his forehead. Seeing his brother in this condition because of him…he understood now some of what Sam had felt after the Asylum and his own stomach took a couple warning rolls from the guilt.

"M'okay, Dean." Sam told him and grasped his arm. "Not your fault, ok?"

"Would you just stop…being so damn understanding?" Dean groaned and made himself smile. "Don't go all frowny face on me, Francis." Dean said lightly and made Sam roll his eyes at him but that movement was more than his head wanted to handle and Sam groaned, tossing an arm over his face. "Easy, kiddo. Get some sleep." Sam nodded and Dean clicked off the light next to the bed, dimming the room for him.

Dean waited until Sam's breathing evened out with sleep and then went to the other bed, stretching out and let the guilt wash over him and the fear that he very well could have gotten Sam killed or ended the night waiting in some sterile emergency room. He rubbed a hand over his chest and found it didn't hurt so much now. He let his head fall back and drifted to sleep without being aware.

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Dean woke with a start when the bed jerked beneath him. "Huh? Wha?" He hastily turned the light on and scrambled out of bed when he saw Sam collapsed on the floor, leaning against the foot of his bed. "Shit, Sam. What the hell are you doing?"

Sam raised his head and grimaced. "Had to pee." He said, disgusted with himself.

"Then you should have woken me up." Dean groused and got an arm under Sam's shoulder, levering him up.

"I got this." Sam assured him and tried to shrug out from under his brothers' arm but Dean didn't let him, tightening his grip.

"Yeah I can see that, tiger." Dean got him in a shuffling limp toward the bathroom. "Stubborn ass." He got Sam into the bathroom and left him leaning against the wall. "I hear another thump I'm comin' back in."

Sam waved an arm at him and Dean shut the door, giving him his privacy gratefully. A few minutes later the door cracked open and Sam stuck an arm out. "Ok, now help."

Dean snorted a laugh and got under the arm, getting him back to the bed and helping to settle him back against the pillows. Sam had a tendency to revert to younger habits when he felt this crappy and Dean smiled, secretly enjoying it. Taking care of Sam had always been his most important job and feeling needed was what he needed most with Dad gone AWOL. It was settling something inside him to be caring for Sam as his little brother turned his head sleepily into the palm Dean laid at the side of his face to check for fever and was relieved to find him cool. He snagged a pillow from his own bed and lifted Sam's wounded leg gently, sliding the pillow beneath it. Sam started to mutter and Dean dropped a hand onto his shoulder and, as it always had as a child, Sam stilled and fell into sleep.

"I'm sorry, Sammy." Dean said softly and pulled the blanket up over him. "I can't promise you won't piss me off again or that I won't get stupid about it again but…" He shook his head at himself and the private chick flick moment he was having with his brother asleep and thankfully oblivious. "But I love you, Sam." He whispered it so softly he almost couldn't hear his own voice and snorted at himself as he dropped back onto his bed. "Get a grip, Dean." He muttered and rolled into his own blankets. He dropped quickly back into sleep and didn't hear the whispered 'love you too, Dean' from the other bed.

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The End…