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 Sparkiebunny: Whenever! No preference on the season. PLOT: Dean gets drunk, spurring a fight between he and Sam. He says (or does) something to Sam that he'll regret later. Sam, hurt by his brother's words/actions, stops fighting instantly, and decides to go for a walk to give Dean some cool-down time. He crosses the street outside the motel and Dean already regrets his actions. Feeling guilty, Dean follows Sam out, but as he crosses the street, a passing car is driving recklessly. Sam turns in time to see the car on its deadly path straight at Dean, who is too buzzed and preoccupied to notice. Sam (being the awesomely heroic guy he is) sprints at Dean, shoving him out of the way just in time. But not in time to save himself; he's badly hurt. Dean rushes to Sam, all big-brotherly and such, rides with him to the hospital, and remains by his side. When Sam awakens (after a near brush with death), Dean is apologetic and guilty, but Sam brushes it off, forgiving Dean without Dean even having to ask. Because that is, after all, the Winchester way. :)
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
-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-
"Hey hand me that bottle, Sammy." Dean grinned over from where he sprawled on his bed, watching the television and tossing the occasional fistful of popcorn at the screen and the cheesy Godzilla movie playing. "I'm empty."
"Good." Sam grumbled and stubbornly did not give his brother the bottle of whiskey sitting beside him on the table. He growled when a handful of popcorn showered onto his head and glared at Dean. "You've had enough."
That comment went straight to Dean's ever shortening fuse and he returned the glare. "I'll decide when I've had enough, Sam. Give me the bottle."
"No." Sam scrubbed a hand over his face. Since their father's death, Dean was doing anything but dealing with it; preferring instead to bury himself in a bottle. Watching his big brother do this to himself every day was killing him. "Dean, you've gotta stop this. I know you're hurting…"
"Oh god, Sam don't you start with me on that shit." Dean banged his head back into the wall and stood up. "Not again. I do not need your touchy-feely crap right now."
Sam did his best to swallow the hurt, reminding himself that Dean was drunk. "You can't keep doing this, Dean."
"Yes. I can." Dean stalked over to the table and swiped the whiskey bottle before Sam could stop him. "You deal with it your way. I'll deal with it mine." He said, opened the bottle and took a long swig to prove his point. He turned back to the bed, wobbling for a moment before sitting back down.
"This isn't 'dealing' with anything Dean!" Sam's voice rose and he fought to keep it level. "I can't stand watching you do this to yourself!"
"Then don't!" Dean shouted. A muffled thump came from the wall of the room next door and Dean took the empty whiskey bottle, throwing it at the wall with a crash. "Mind your own business!" He yelled before turning back to Sam. "Get the hell out if you don't like it, Sam. I'm not gonna have some damn Oprah moment and cry on your shoulder just so you can feel better about the shitty way you left things with Dad!"
Sam flinched back as if hit, the pain of that vicious statement driving tears into his eyes but he didn't let them fall. "Dean…" He started and found there was nothing he could think of to say because the reality was, he agreed with Dean. The regret of his last conversation with his father was choking him. He nodded instead and stood. "Ok." He said; voice hoarse and strode to the door and outside, shutting it quietly. Sam headed out to the street. He didn't really care where he was going, he just needed to walk and be somewhere else right then. Tears spilled over and down his cheeks in the brisk night air as he reached the street and crossed and he didn't care.
Dean sat in shock on the bed, whiskey bottle forgotten in his hand as he watched Sam stand. His brother's face had gone white and he could see those blue-green eyes swimming before Sam turned away and left. Even his whiskey soaked brain was having trouble accepting the hurtful thing he'd just shouted. Dean's stomach turned violently and he let the bottle drop to the floor.
"Son of a bitch." He groaned and got unsteadily off the bed. "What the hell, Dean?" He asked of himself and went to the door. It was the middle of the night and he wasn't just going to let Sam wander off on the damn streets somewhere because he was too screwed up to stay sober and help him. He threw the door open and looked out, glad to see Sam not that far ahead of him, just crossing the street.
Dean jogged toward him to catch up with the long-legged stride. "Sam! Sam, wait!"
Sam stepped up onto the other side of the street, wiping his face and startled when he heard Dean's voice. He turned in surprise and saw Dean jogging toward him. "Dean?" Movement to Dean's left caught his eye and he looked over, fear stabbing into his belly. A car was weaving down the road, headlights off and the lights from the dash showing the drivers head bent down and unseeing. All this Sam processed in the millisecond before realizing that Dean had no idea the car was there as he stepped down into the street and into its path. "Dean!"
Dean watched in confusion as Sam turned and then sprinted for him. In his intoxication he didn't have time to react as Sam plowed into him, throwing him backwards. Dean flew backward and landed with a grunt, rolling to a stop in the grass in front of the motel. He pushed himself up, woozy and shook his head. "What the hell, Sam?" He yelled and rolled over, expecting to see his brother lying beside him but he wasn't. Squealing tires pulled his eyes up and to the right and he felt the bottom drop out of his world. A black car sat half up on the curb and just in front of it laid Sam on his back and not moving.
"Oh my god." Dean breathed and lurched to his feet. He ran, the alcohol suddenly burned out of his head, sober in an instant and fell to his knees beside his little brother. "Sam? Sammy?" He didn't register the driver getting out and stumbling over to them, he had eyes only for the blood covering half of Sam's face, the odd angle of his right leg. He put shaking fingers to his neck and felt the stuttering pulse there. He fumbled his cell from his pocket and called 911. He gave them the address and then dropped the phone, ignoring the dispatcher's questions. "Sammy? Come on, buddy. Wake up." He ghosted a hand through his brother's chestnut hair, flinching at the feel of blood saturating it and rested his other hand gently on Sam's chest. His breathing was too shallow, too uneven and Dean silently willed the ambulance to hurry.
"Oh…oh god. I didn't see him! I never even saw him!" The man from the car was standing over them, hands on his head in shock. "God he came out of nowhere! I wasn't…oh god is he dead? Did I kill him?"
Dean ignored him and the tinny voice of the emergency dispatcher. He kept his hands on Sam, talking to him, trying to rouse him and more importantly; to keep him there. "Hey, Sammy. You're scaring the crap out of me here. You gotta hang on." His voice wavered, eyes damp as Sam stubbornly remained unconscious. "Please wake up, Sam."
He didn't even register the arrival of the officers or the ambulance until hands were pulling him away and he fought them.
"Sir. Sir! You need to let us help him!" A woman's voice shouted in his ear and a light slap stung his cheek. He looked up, understanding help had come and he let them pull him away. "Good. "You going to ride with him?" Dean nodded. "Ok, just let us stabilize him."
Dean stood back and watched, ringing his hands with the unnerving feeling of being helpless again. When they finally loaded his brother into the ambulance, Dean was there, climbing in along with them and sat as close to Sam's head as he could and still leave the EMT room to work. The woman worked quickly, assessing the damage, speaking into a radio and letting the hospital know what to expect. Just when Dean was beginning to feel as if they'd dodged a bullet her eyes went wide and she climbed on top of Sam's gurney and started chest compressions.
"Dave, floor it! He's coding!" She shouted and the world spiraled down on Dean once more. He reached a hand out, resting it in Sam's hair while the woman fought to keep his little brother's heart beating long enough.
"Don't you leave me, Sammy. Don't you dare." Dean said into his ear, leaning forward. "You hear me? You fight. You fight, Sammy."
-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-
Dean sat beside Sam's bed in the hospital room. They were in the Intensive Care Unit. In the twenty-four hours since the crash he had run the gambit of emotions from anger at Sam for putting himself in harms' way for his sake and self-hate for the things he'd said that had driven Sam from the room last night. He understood now. He understood the regret that was drowning his little brother. The soul killing ache of knowing the last words spoken to someone you love were in anger; of knowing you would never be able to take them back, to simply say 'I didn't mean it.'. The realization took his breath away and he hated himself for ever saying those things to Sam. He leaned into the bed, carding a hand through Sam's hair for the hundredth time, letting it rest there.
"Sammy, you gotta wake up now. The doctors, they said…well they said a lot of stuff about oxygen deprivation and brain damage and that you might never come out of this." Dean ducked his head, swallowing against the fear choking him. "You're gonna prove them wrong. You hear me, Sam? You prove them wrong. You wake up. I need you to wake up." He looked at the stitches in Sam's forehead; the cast wrapped around his leg and knew there were bandages around his chest as well to stabilize the broken ribs. The wires running from under his hospital gown and IV lines were disturbing but he was beyond relieved when they'd removed the ventilator a few hours earlier.
"Sir, you should go home. Get some sleep." A nurse said as she came into the room. She looked sadly on the young man who hadn't left his brother's side since they'd wheeled him out of surgery.
"Can't leave him." Dean said and laid his hand over Sam's chest so he could feel the rhythm of his heartbeat and his chest moving as he breathed. The only thought in Dean's mind was, Sam had left Dad and missed his chance. Dean wasn't going to miss his.
"It could be days; weeks even. You have to rest sometime." The Nurse smiled and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.
"I'm good." Dean said firmly and spared a glance up at her. "Thank you."
"Alright." She quickly checked her patient's vitals and then left them alone, making a mental note to bring the young man a blanket and a pillow later.
"Got some hot nurses here, Sam." Dean said and gave a weak smile. "Can't believe you're sleeping through this."
He froze, eyes going to his brother's face when he felt the chest beneath his hand hitch. "Sammy?" Dean watched as Sam's eyes began to move beneath his eyelids. He leaned in further. "That's it, Sammy. Come on. Wake up." Sam's arm's twitched, his head tilted toward the sound of Dean's voice. Dean ran his hand through Sam's hair again and waited, breaking into a huge grin as Sam's eyes slowly cracked open. "Hey, tiger. Welcome back."
Sam fought to get his eyes open all the way. He could see white tile ceiling and smell antiseptic and frowned. "Hospital?" He asked in a voice almost silent his throat was so dry.
"Yeah. You had an argument with a car." Dean smiled but it was weak and Sam frowned at the shine of tears in Dean's eyes. "The car won."
"M'okay?" Sam asked and watched Dean's eyes, the slight tremble he felt in his big brother's hand on his chest and knew suddenly that it had been far too close.
"Yeah, you're gonna be fine." Dean smoothed his hand through his hair again. "Broken leg, couple ribs and a hell of a skull fracture." Dean looked away then, had to or his tears would fall. "You uh…you almost died on the table…they lost you for a couple minutes." And despite his efforts, the tears fell anyway and he squeezed his eyes shut against them. "God, Sammy, I almost lost you."
"S'okay, Dean." Sam reached a weak arm up, resting it over Dean's hand on his chest. "I'm okay."
"Sam, I'm sorry." Dean looked back at him fiercely. "What I said last night, I never should have said that. I'm so sorry."
Sam shook his head, letting his eyes slip closed for a moment. "It's ok, Dean." Sam looked back up and gave him a smile. "Not your fault."
"Yes it is." Dean shook his head angrily. "If I hadn't been drunk I'd have seen the damn car." He sat back and ran a hand through his own hair. "It's my fault you were out there." He didn't think he would ever forget seeing Sam lying there so still or the paramedic fighting to keep his heart beating in the ambulance.
"I'm the idiot who decided to take a midnight walk." Sam said and smiled ruefully. "It's ok. We're ok." He stared into his brother's green eyes and begged him to believe that and after a few tense moments, Dean nodded and put his hand back to Sam's head.
"Ok." Dean said softly. It was a never ending wonder to him how Sam could forgive so easily; even more how he could forgive the big brother who kept letting him down. He watched the shine of pure trust in Sam's eyes and understood that in his little brother's eyes, he had never let him down. He struggled to accept that responsibility again. He'd forgotten it recently, had let it fall to the side and he vowed not to let it happen again. "Get some sleep, Sammy. I've got you."
Sam smiled as his eyes drifted shut, listening to Dean's voice speaking softly, feeling his hand in his hair and let the comfort of his presence send him back to sleep. They were going to be ok.
-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-
The End.