This is for a fic exchange over at CWESS (Link is on my profile, check us out!) and goes out to Fandrea.

And, of course, what would one of mine be without some Limp!Sam and Overprotective!Dean. And, because I miss my boys – set early Season 2.

I don't own them – I did, however, try to barter with a Cross Roads Demon … and got some balding fat guy who said the regular demon was on vacation in Vancouver.


They were just starting to be brothers again, or so he'd said that day in the hospital when he'd all but willed (begged!) Dean to live. But dad's deal changed all that, or so it seemed as his all too distant brother sat silently across from him at the latest diner on their latest hunt somewhere just south of Tulsa, Oklahoma in a little hick town that the rest of the world seemed to have forgotten. Or rather never knew to begin with, after all, the one traffic light wasn't exactly appealing to tourists.

"So … "

Dean glanced up from toying with his napkin, but said nothing, leaving Sam to do all the talking. He didn't mind, not fully, because somewhere in his head he wondered how he'd feel if someone made a deal for him to live. If someone he cared about gave up their life so easily as if he were far more important.

The thought made him shiver far worse than facing that clown had – and had a headache come blaring, Sam would have sworn the future barreled in with that thought, leaving an uneasy ache in the pit of his stomach.


It was but one word, and the first Dean had uttered in … 12 minutes, 53 seconds! It was enough to draw Sam from morbid thoughts to stare blankly for a minute before he continued right where he'd left off … as if nothing had ever happened. Sam was getting good at that.

"So Alex Hastings wasn't a nice guy…"

"Go figure…"

"And he apparently enjoyed taunting the young girls of the neighborhood…"

"Taunting as in…."

Sam only nodded a response causing a blonde brow arched, a signal Dean was interested in that I am so salting and burning this bastard way. "How young?"

"His youngest was twelve, oldest … sixteen."

The napkin disappeared into Dean's fist, an action that, had Alex been alive, would have been the now ghost's throat in a grip that would have even Casper taking notice.

Salting and Burning was too good for this bastard.

"So he torments young girls and…"

"And then just … disappeared…"

Dean stared, knowing there was more to this than Sam was telling, because Sam … liked dragging things out just a bit.

"Rumor has it the town's parents took care of it."

"And left the body … ?"

Sam lifted one shoulder in a non-committal shrug before he spoke. "No one's talking, Dean. They all know something, I think they were all involved in some way, but no one is willing to shed an ounce of light as to what truly happened to Alex Hastings…."

Dean stared at his brother, studying the way Sam held himself for but a minute before he spoke a single word, "But…."

Sam stared only a moment before finishing that train of thought. "But Alex Hastings worked at the local clinic, and rumor has it that the town turned his own trade on him…"

"Clinic as in…"

"A woman's clinic."

And that made Dean smirk for more than the obvious. But the action was subtle; something only Sam would have caught before Dean's previously balled up napkin was tossed to the table.

"Then let's head on over. It's time for your girly exam anyway."

Sam let out an exasperated sound, along with a roll of his eyes in his usual younger brother fashion. The grin, however, was hidden until Dean was halfway across the floor.

It was nice to have a piece of the old Dean back, even if it didn't last.


The town was nothing but ordinary, so the fact that the local women's clinic was just as unremarkable didn't surprise him. Your typical sign that was mostly covered by the bush that had once been planted for its beauty, but had long since been left untended to grow rampant and be nothing but an eyesore that nearly made Dean miss the turn.

A curse and a quick maneuver later (along with a mutter of surprise from Sam!) and they were pulling into the parking lot that was more empty than full. Didn't surprise him, well, other than the fact that the town was so damn boring that there was nothing left to do but have sex! Sam might have argued, but as they approached the counter, Dean put on a serious face – one far too serious for what came out of his mouth.

"I know this is a clinic for ladies but my brother here …" A heated glare from Sam, one which he ignored. "…thinks his girlfriend gave him something." A kick from a Sasquatch foot connected with his own, but in true Dean fashion he held that all too serious look. "Something he wasn't expecting, and certainly didn't want, if you know what I mean…"

Another glare, but when the lady at the desk (Rita her nametag said) looked sympathetically at Sam, his brother, true to form, just gave her that puppy dog look he was famous for.

"And we were hoping maybe you could look it up, give him some medicine…"

"I'm sorry Sir…"


"I'm sorry, Dean, I just can't give out medical records to…"

"Well, maybe you can test him and …"

Dean was used to putting on the charm. It earned him an eye roll form his kid brother, but he didn't care – Sammy, he had that puppy dog, earn their trust (and melt their hearts) touch, and Dean, well, he had the cocksure charm that could make a woman melt. But while Sam wasn't aware of his Winchester charm, Dean was … and thus cast that grin that had the woman giving one back, even if moments ago she'd been prepared to toss them out.

"Very well, I just need him to fill this out and the doctor will be with him in a minute."

Sam glared, Dean grinned, but before another kick could be directed his way, he motioned behind the counter. "And maybe you could point me to the little boy's room…"

A wink was cast Sam's petulant way as he was ushered past the door that separated waiting area from office before the door was closed again, leaving Sam to his own devices – a pen and a form that asked questions that, quite frankly, he wasn't sure he could answer.



Time seemed to drawl to a slow crawl as Sam filled out the form.


He glanced toward the door Dean had vanished behind for what seemed the thousandth time before turning back to that damn form that asked far too many personal questions.


Other people were in the waiting area, but frankly, Sam didn't pay them any attention for this stupid form in this stupid place with Dean … God knows where.


"I know she's here Rita, and I'm not leaving without her!"

It was the first thing that broke through that endless droning clock within his own head where he'd sworn he'd been in that waiting room for an eternity. It felt like those endless rides in the back seat of the Impala with his dad casting glares at him via the rearview mirror after one of their all too frequent fights.


But it wasn't the voice that broke his self-induced fog … it was the sound of the hammer being drawn back on the handgun the man held.

Sam's head came up just as the door that led to God only knows where finally opened. "Hey, Sammy, I took care of…."

But the rest faded away into that dark place where demon's thrived as the man turned to the sound of the door. The clipboard flew, the pen scattered, and Sam swore his feet were going to be far too slow – like one of those dreams where no matter how fast you run the monster always catches you … just before you wake up in a sweat that had nothing to do with a girl named Samantha and hormones still raging from a kiss so hot it could melt Alaska.

Only there was no waking up, not even as the blast ripped through the clinic, not even as Sam's body collided with Dean's, and certainly not even as heat ripped through his shoulder where only seconds before Dean's head had been.


It had been easy really. A little too easy. Easy hunts didn't often come the way of the Winchesters, but Dean wasn't looking a gift horse in the mouth, not this time. He'd snooped, found the hidden logs of what happened to ole Alex Hastings, and found the tie (a logbook that has the bastard's blood on it) that was holding his spirit in this world and burned it … in the bathroom. He was grinning like the first time he found a titty magazine when he stepped back out into the waiting room.

"Hey, Sammy, I took care of busi…."

The rest was omphed out of him as he was hit with the force of a little brother who wasn't so damn little anymore. Dean felt the full brunt of the tackle as his head hit the floor and something (probably Sam's elbow) dug into his side only to jam up to his rib.

The only thing that drowned out the groan was the deafening sound that Dean should have known. A sound that he'd heard … he's caused on too many occasions to count.

It was a sound that caused a panic inside Dean Winchester long before the fog of dizziness that the tackling fall caused lifted long enough for coherency to set in. Long before the murmured (and slurred), "You're timing sucks…." reached his ears. The scream of a lady still in the waiting room was drowned out as the click echoed in a slow motion drone that had Dean glancing up to face the barrel of a pistol … and the pissed off face of the bastard that just shot his brother.


"Get up…."

Sam was currently half draped over Dean, but that wasn't his issue with moving, not fully. His issue was he'd have to jostle his shot brother to do so … and the fact that this bastard was ordering him to do so, well, that didn't sit well with Dean on a normal day. But today wasn't normal, today his brother was shot … and that put a look in Dean Winchester's eyes that would have had a demon taking a step back.

"Yeah, that's a little hard considering the guy you shot is on top of me…"

"That wasn't a question."

"Yeah? Well, I wasn't…." But the snark that had been about to leave his mouth stopped as the gun lowered to Sam's head.

"Maybe if I eliminate the obstacle…"

And that got Dean moving. Slow. Because Sam, while heavy, was hurt, and Dean wasn't risking furthering that injury. So after carefully moving his Sasquatch of a brother, Dean eased out from under him – but not without noticing the blood that had seeped from Sam's wound onto his shirt.

"He needs a doctor…"

"Good thing I shot him in a clinic, now isn't it?"

Sarcasm was usually Dean's deal, but today, well, it wasn't exactly welcome and earned mister gun-toting bastard a heated glare that once he separated the prick from Sam, he'd make good on the silent threat.

Dean's retort, however, was cut short by the blare of sirens.

"So now they decide to come…."


He'd had worse … it had been awhile, but he'd definitely had worse. Like that time when he was about fourteen and that werewolf decided Sam looked delicious! And while it never bit him (or else his dad might have put a silver bullet in his head!) the damn thing's claws hurt like a bitch! Kind of like the hot, searing pain just below his shoulder. Huh, he should consider himself lucky, a few inches lower and it might have ripped through his chest instead of clean out his shoulder blade.

Still, while he'd had worse, he was finding it hard to concentrate, to hold onto the conversations he knew were going on around him.

"He needs a doctor … "

Probably due to blood loss. Yeah, Sam was pretty sure he was bleeding all over the floor. Or maybe all over Dean. Was Dean still below him? Did Dean get hit too? That thought alone had Sam forcing an all too dry mouth to work when all he wanted to do was sink into the blackness where demons couldn't find him.


Not quite his brother's name but it was enough to warrant a squeeze of his hand, one that had Sam cracking his eyes open to a worried big brother. "Hey little…"

But anything else was cut off by the voice behind the gun. "Tie him up, Rita…."

Sam blinked, that act alone taking effort before he tried craning his head to see the gunman.

Nope, that wasn't working – not one bit.

Dean's glare, however, was easy enough to feel, even if Sam couldn't see it through the haze of pain.

"I don't think so…."

The venom in his brother's voice was palpable, at least to Sam – though a person would have to be deaf not to hear it.

Or the click that was far too close to Sam's head to be comfortable.

"And if he gives you any trouble, I'll finish the job on this one…"

They were so screwed.


Being tied up sucked. But being tied up while Sam was out there with a possible killer while bleeding … well, that sucked outloud!

Dean Winchester, however, was not one to take one little set back lying (or in this case sitting) down.

And the sound of the cop's voice blaring from a bullhorn? Well, that only made him work twice as hard in his efforts to free himself.

Dean didn't exactly trust the police. In fact, it was the Winchester motto (behind We do what we do and shut up about it.) not to trust any kind of official, especially the police.

That and he was supposed to be dead.

That would certainly put a damper on their hunting. But Dean was trying not to think about that as he wiggled his fingers for the knife he always kept.

Dean was nothing if not prepared.


The blaring voice demanding they all come out with their hands up drew him back from the darkness that tried to lull him in for a raring good time of nothingness where demons and gun-toting crazies didn't exist.

Unfortunately for Sam, that voice also made the gun-toting crazy all the more reckless.

The gun waved to the few people in the waiting area, motioning them behind that door that Rita (was that her name?) had gone to tie Dean up. It made Sam wonder if the doctor had snuck out the back door in order to save himself.

His thoughts of cowardly physicians were cut short with the cold metal barrel pressing to his head.

"Get up…"

"You're shitting me…"

Sam never failed to come out with that Winchester snark at all the wrong times!

"Does this feel funny to you?"

And the gun pressed harder against his head, making Sam second guess that retort that poised just on the tip of his tongue.

Getting up was hard, made all the harder by a wave of dizziness and the ever pressing issue of a gun forcing his body to do something it just didn't want to do. He felt sick, mostly due to the room spinning as the asshole behind him gave him a shove through the door that had him stumbling.

"Move it before I put another bullet in you!"

"I don't think so asshole…."

In the midst of his feet getting tangled and the world spinning off his axis … Sam smiled just before the blackness won its claim over him.


Pain radiated from his shoulder, down his arm and through his chest, making that shroud of darkness just a haze that filtered some sort of awareness like a bright beacon of light, beckoning him further into the pain.


And a mouth so dry all he could get out was the raspy beginning of his brother's name.

"Right here, Sammy…."

It was enough, however. It was always enough.

Like the time when he was eight and woke from a nightmare. He didn't need to say anything – his brother just drew back the covers of his own bed in invitation, saving Sam the embarrassment of having to ask.

Or the time when he was twelve and Josh Edwards and his friends had taken out their frustrations on Sam because Dean had taken Josh's girl from him. He hadn't needed to say a word, Dean just knew by that look on Sam's face. They never talked about it, not even after Josh came to school looking like he'd gone three rounds with Mike Tyson.

That glass of water was pressed to his lips, all without asking, because Dean just always knew. Maybe it was in some big brother code book. But Sam didn't think so because most of the friends he'd had over the years didn't have brothers like Dean.

As the cool water soothed his dry throat, Sam thought it was just in Dean's code book. And his brother, well, he was one of a kind.

"How did you….?"

The words were still hoarse, like someone else had taken control of his voice, but he didn't need to finish for Dean to understand.

"Morphine. By the time he turned around to shoot, he was flopping on the ground like a fish."

Sam didn't have to see it to know that cocky grin was lighting up Dean's face. It caused a small one of his own as he settled back to let the darkness claim him once again. At least for a minute before he was blinking awake again to try and focus on the concerned face of his big brother.

"How did we…?"

"Because I'm good, Sammy!" Hurt and weak, Sam still found the energy it took to roll his eyes. "That and as Andy and Barney were charging in the front door, we were sneaking out the back!"

"I snuck?"

"You're a regular James Bond when you're bleeding all over the place, Sammy."

Sam managed that little brother look that had Dean grinning before all seriousness took control of his features.

"Don't ever do that again!"

"Do what?"

"Get shot for me… I swear Sam, next time I'll just let you bleed out and leave your ass there!"

"Will not..."

"Oh I totally will dude!"




And while the darkness was winning, he didn't miss the blanket being drawn up or the affectionate pat to his hand.

So while their world was falling to hell in a hand basket full of demons, some things, they just never changed.


Her prompt:

1, A fic that has the boys in a hostage situation, where Sam takes a bullet (literally or figurative is up to the writer) for Dean.

Hope you liked it Fandrea!

And I love reviews! They're like chocolate!