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 threedays: Okay, how about this: a wee or teenchester fic in which Sam realizes how Dean's feeling about something before Dean does. Vague enough for ya? ;)
A/N+: Definitely vague! Holy crap I struggled with this one so forgive me if it wanders a bit. LOL I was trying to work my way into it. Tags to 1x18 "Something Wicked"I hope I got there. XD
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 groaned as Dean dropped his hand onto his forehead for the hundredth time in an hour. "I'm fine, Dean." He told his big brother who ignored him.
"Still got a fever, Sammy." Dean told him. "Sit still." He left and went to the kitchen, grabbing the thermometer and ran a towel under the cold water.
"Dean, you're being a bit over protective, don't you think?" Pastor Jim asked the boy kindly as he watched him from the table, setting his paper aside. Since the last time he'd seen him, Dean seemed to have gone from ten years old to thirty where his little brother was concerned. John had practically left the boys on his doorstep the day before with only a hurried explanation before leaving again.
"He's sick." Dean muttered and wrung out the towel. "He's got a fever."
"It's only a flu, Dean. He'll be fine." Pastor Jim said as he'd said before but Dean only shook his head and went back out to his brother.
"Here, Sammy." Dean sat beside the six year old and laid the towel on his forehead. He brushed Sam's hand away when he tried to push it off. "Leave it on. Here." He stuck the thermometer in Sam's mouth and ignored the glare he got in response.
Sam rolled his eyes and stubbornly refused to admit aloud how good the cold towel felt on his over-warm head. He reached for his bottle of water when Dean pulled the thermometer away and soothed his dry throat. "So am I dyin'?" Sam asked with a smirk.
"Don't even joke, Sam." Dean said suddenly, fiercely and stood up. Sam stared confused up at him and Dean made himself smile. "No, you're fine. Just…it's a little high, ok? You should go to bed."
"How high is it?" Pastor Jim asked, coming into the living room behind Dean.
"A hundred and two." Dean said and reached down, pushing the towel back up on Sam's forehead.
Pastor Jim smiled. "It's not that bad but he's right. You should go to bed, Sam. Come on." Pastor Jim went to the couch and scooped Sam up, blankets and all as he squeaked.
"I can walk!" Sam protested but the Pastor just chuckled and headed for the stairs.
"Shush now, Sam. Tomorrow when you feel better you can do all the running around you want." The Pastor told him and barely heard Dean's muttered 'not in this lifetime' as he went up. He went to the room he kept for the boys and set Sam down in his bed. Dean was there at his side, tucking Sam under the blankets, settling the cold towel on his head again and set his bottle of water beside the bed. "Get some sleep, son." The Pastor patted his shoulder and left the room with Dean climbing into his own bed. He shook his head as he shut the door and wondered what exactly had happened with the Shtriga. All John had told him was that it had nearly gotten Sam. Dean's behavior told him there was more than just that and he decided to call John.
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Sam pushed away from the table and his finally empty bowl of oatmeal. He'd eaten all of it under Dean's watchful eye, knowing there was no way he would get to play outside if Dean thought he wasn't a hundred percent.
"Can I play outside now?" Sam looked hopefully to Pastor Jim who made a show of examining his bowl until Sam giggled.
"Yes, Sam. Stay in the yard though." The Pastor smiled as Sam scrambled off his chair and for the front door. He put a restraining hand on Dean's shoulder when he went to follow. "Dean, sit for a minute."
"No, shouldn't leave him alone." Dean squirmed under the restraining hand as the front door shut.
"He'll be fine for a few minutes." Pastor Jim soothed. "Dean. Would you tell me what happened? With the Shtriga?" He felt Dean tense under his hand and shook his head.
"Ask Dad." Dean said simply and gave a terse shrug. "It came for Sam and it got away."
Jim frowned down at him, noting how Dean wouldn't meet his eyes. "Dean, did something else happen?"
Dean's face, if anything, became more obstinate and he squirmed out from under the Pastor's hand. "Ask Dad, okay? I gotta go check on Sammy." Dean backed out of the kitchen and left the Pastor shaking his head. Normally the boys had no problem talking to him. That Dean would be so tight lipped made him nervous and John, now he thought on it, had barely looked at the boy when he dropped them off. He prayed for patience with John Winchester who, the night before, had told him to mind his own business when he'd called.
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"Sammy?" Dean called as he stepped out onto the porch and pulled his jacket tighter against the cold, Fall wind. His nerves spiked not seeing his little brother in the yard. "Sam!" He called louder and heard a group of voices on the other side of the hedge beside the rectory. He jogged down the lawn and around the hedge and then ran. Sam was down on the sidewalk with three much larger boys standing over him.
"Get away from him!" Dean yelled and tackled the largest of the kids to the ground. They were older than him and bigger but he didn't care. Sam needed him again and again he'd failed. He rocked back to his feet and turned on the other two. "You leave him alone!"
"Geez kid, we were just messin' with him." One of the boys said and stepped back, laughing. "Not our fault he tripped."
Dean ignored him and bent to pull Sam up from his knees. "Hey, Sammy."
Sam had a hand to his chin and thin trails of blood seeped out between his fingers. He looked up at his big brother with liquid eyes. "Can we go home, Dean?" Sam asked and Dean nodded. He draped an arm over his shoulders and backed them away from the boys.
"You come near him again and I'll make you regret it." Dean warned and turned his back at the hedge as they laughed and jeered. "Come on, Sammy."
"M'okay, Dean." Sam said, hand still over his mouth. "They were just teasin n' I fell."
"You mean they pushed you." Dean growled as they reached the porch.
Sam shrugged. "It's ok, Dean." He tried to assure him, wanting to be bigger than he was but he couldn't stop himself huddling in against Dean's side as the boys laughed behind them, only relaxing once they were inside again.
"Pastor Jim!" Dean shouted and pushed Sam toward the kitchen. The Pastor immediately appeared, eyes widening in surprise.
"What happened?" The Pastor bent and picked up Sam, setting him on the counter where he could get a better look.
Dean glared at him. "You said he'd be okay for a few minutes but there were boys out there and they hurt him." Dean all but accused him. He couldn't keep the anger out of his voice.
"Let me see, Sammy." Pastor Jim pried the boys hand from his chin and grabbed up a washcloth, gently wiping away some of the blood. "Oh this is just a little cut, Dean. Heal in no time." Dean dragged a chair over from the table so he could stand and reach Sam's face. He took the washcloth from the Pastor.
"I've got him." Dean said firmly and started cleaning the blood from Sam's chin and neck. The Pastor sighed and backed away, unwilling to argue with the boy when he was so obviously upset. Instead, he gathered band-aids and alcohol and set them beside the boys.
"Make sure you clean it well." Pastor Jim told Dean. "Don't want to get an infection. I'll be right back." Since Dean wouldn't let him help his brother, he would just see which boys had decided to start violence in front of his parish and sort them instead.
"Ow, Dean." Sam grumbled and Dean rested a hand on his little brother's neck.
"Sorry, tiger." Dean smiled for him and wiped the rest of the blood away before grabbing the bottle of alcohol and soaking the washcloth. "This is gonna sting, ok?" Sam nodded and blinked furiously at the tears that formed in his eyes as Dean sterilized the cut. "There we go. All done." Sam had both hands fisted in his jacket as he worked at covering the cut with band-aids and drew his brother into a hug when he was done. "All better." Sam buried his face in his brother's neck and Dean frowned when he felt heat there again. He pulled Sam back and rubbed a hand over his forehead, pushing his hair out of the way.
"I gotta fever again?" Sam asked sadly and Dean nodded.
"Let's get you in bed, ok midget?" Dean jumped down to the floor and caught Sam as he slid off the counter, lowering him and steered him toward the stairs.
"Not a midget." Sam told him firmly as they walked up. "I'm six."
Dean smirked and ruffled Sam's hair. "Yeah I know. Still a midget."
"I'm gonna get taller than you someday." Sam assured him as Dean pushed him toward his bed.
"Keep dreamin' short stuff. Get in." Dean pulled the blankets back as Sam dutifully climbed up into the bed and laid down. He covered his little brother, tucking the blankets in around him.
"It's not your fault, you know." Sam said suddenly and Dean stilled, looking up at him.
"What?" Dean asked, wondering if Sam had suddenly remembered the Shtriga and Dean failing to protect him.
"What happened. It's not your fault." Sam snuggled into the blankets and grabbed Dean's hand, pulling that with him and wrapping his arms around it. "You're just a kid too." Sam told him as Dean was forced to sit so Sam could have his arm. "S'posed to be the grown-ups who take care of us."
"It's my job to take care of you, Sammy." Dean said quietly and smoothed damp hair off Sam's forehead. "I screwed up."
"Nuh-uh." Sam insisted, snuggling deeper into the blankets with his brothers' arm. "You didn't know it was gonna happen. Geez, Dean for a grown up you can be awful stupid sometimes." Sam chuckled and giggled fiercely when Dean tickled him. "Can you see the future?"
Dean rolled his eyes. "Of course not."
"Then it's not your fault." Sam blinked groggily up at him before settling back with Dean's arm. "Can't see what's comin' then it's not your fault. 'sides, I'm fine." Sam drifted off and Dean let his hand comb through Sam's hair again. He realized Sam was only talking about the bullies but it was strangely fitting.
"Still my job to protect you, Sammy." Dean whispered so as not to wake him now he was dozing. "That's twice I let you outta my sight when I shouldn't." He dropped his head. "No wonder Dad doesn't trust me now." He said sadly and knew that was what was really upsetting him. He did understand that the bullies weren't his fault and maybe…maybe the Shtriga, but what was really hurting him was the look in their father's eyes. "I'm sorry, Sammy."
Pastor Jim stood silently in the bedroom doorway, having heard all of it and soundlessly moved away and back downstairs. Now he had a better idea of what had happened and resolved to have a long talk with John when he returned. No little boy should have that much weight heaped on his shoulders.
Dean settled in beside his brother, not bothering to get his arm back and waited for him to wake up. He wouldn't be leaving his side again, not for anything.
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The End.