Helloo there people, this is a good ole' challenge fic to the word "Broken" by the fab players of Endiku07's challenge!

Although I've gotta' say writing it is easy...

100 words...not so much

WARNING: language and Limp-ness cos I'm feeling low on some Sammy time...

Summary: Set season 3, for challenge word 'Broken'. Sam and Dean, their account on Broken bones and bonds- multi-chapter for multi-length challenge fic ideas...:D cos I'm that awkward, LIMP Sammy and protective Dean.

Disclaimer: Cows wear tights and ghosts play poker, you really think I own that much goodness of the boys and their crew...nope, nada, nill.

Any questions?... Wanna' play? Pm Endiku07 and check out the other players, seriously the stuff them lot come up with- even Yellow Eye's would be speechless...

Basically this is a Sammy whammy and Dean's looking out, bless...however slight relevence to season 4, although no spoilers

THANKS! to those who know I always break the one rule we have, sorry to dissapoint, again...but there's lengthier versions to look forward to...:D


Dean's voice bounced from the alley walls, unease clear in the echo.

"Doesn't...matter..." Sam mumbled back, lips barely wanting to move, eyes downcast and hollow.

"Sam...?" Dean sounded firmer this time, but still held back when he approached Sam. Like he was scared.

"Dean, forget it...it's over." Sam shrugged lazily, moved to walk away from Dean and toward the room. He just wanted to literally implode with the look Dean had given him back there. Like he didn't trust him, like he was wary, like Sam needed to be watched, like Sam was this...this...monster.

Strong hands pulled Sam back to face him. Stern gaze, set jaw, Sam tensed, then sighed, wincing.

"The way you looked at me tonight...I'm not a freak Dean, you've always said that." Sam tried to stop his voice breaking.

"You're not." Dean snapped back, defiant.

"A picture says a thousand words. That look was enough...look I don't wanna' talk about it." Sam's eyes never once really looked at Dean, he was shifting awkwardy, trying to move out of Dean's blocking way.

Sam cradled his left side as he pushed past and left Dean behind.

"You should get that looked at." Dean called after him. Sam couldn't feel any worry or comfort in Dean's tone.

Sam stopped and turned, his brow creased, he pulled out his gun and threw it to Dean.

"I didn't kill him. Check it..." Voice raw, eye's puffy.

The motel door slammed, and Dean leant back against chevrolet metal. Sam looked like he had given up after this hunt.

He emptied the chamber. Rolled the rounds around in his hand.


Dean's face fell, and he inwardly kicked himself and looked to the motel window, saw the light shut off.

Shit. Dean really needed to trust Sam on this, or he'd lose Sam forever. Especially after their last few months.

Dean spent a few more moments staring at the tranquilisers, then reloaded the gun and dropped it in his duffel.

He needed a way to show Sam how he did still trust him, how he always had, always would. Things were just fucked up these days.