ohsam | A Sam-focused h/c meme!

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A Sam-focused h/c meme!

Awww! Our fledgling community already has 136 members! *beams proudly* You guys ROCK!

So in order to celebrate the glory that is hurt!sick!Sam, we are hosting a comment-fic meme. You guys probably know the drill by now, but just to be on the safe side, I'll post a couple of rules below.

I will be keeping track of the meme and compiling a master list as new stories appear.

SPREAD THE WORD

Ground Rules:

1. This is a Sam-focused hurt/comfort community, so Sam should be the one in the hurt/comforted role. Your prompts may involve sick!Sam, hurt!Sam, angsty!Sam, basically anything that results in Sam being on the receiving end of hurt/comfort. (No rules against whumping other characters as well, of course, but you have to whump Sam first. ;) )

2. Comment to this post with your desired characters or pairings, and a prompt. All genres/pairings are welcome, BUT no RPF/RPS, please. Please focus on the fictional characters only.

Example A: “Sam, Dean, gen, set in season 2. Sam has a vision and passes out. Cue caring!Dean and limp!Sam.”
Example B: “Sam/Dean, trauma. Sam is injured on a hunt, Dean freaks out when he thinks Sam might be dead.”

3. You can leave as many prompts as you like, but please write one prompt per comment. If you've got a few (and feel free to prompt at will!), comment with each separately. This is to keep the meme manageable.

4. Your prompts can be as short or as detailed as you’d like. i.e. "Sam, Dean. Fever." Or a three-paragraph epic with details. The more detailed your prompt, the less wriggle room you're giving the writer, though, so bear that in mind.

5. Scroll through the comments and when you find a prompt you like, write a fic in reply to the comment. There is no word count limit.

6. More than one comment-fic response to a prompt is totally acceptable, and in fact encouraged. The more fic, the better!

7. When replying to a prompt with your comment-fic, put ‘FILLED’ in your subject line and then anything else you want, ie: a title if you have one/part numbers. It’s not a big deal if you forget this step, but it will make it easier for people to find your fic, and for me when I’m compiling the master list.

8. Anonymous posting is enabled, but I haven't figured out whether I.P. logging is off because I suck at this sort of thing. If you're embarrassed by how schmoopy your prompts are, don't worry, we won't tell on you. ;)

9. No spoilers for future episodes. NONE. We will send Missouri after you with a spoon.

10. Standard rules of politeness apply. Do NOT bash any characters. Do NOT say rude things to prompters and writers. In short, don't be a douchebag. The mods will ruthlessly delete any ridiculousness we see.

11. Questions about the meme? Comments? PM your mods! We will be happy to answer your queries.

12. Do feed your authors! They’re awesome. Feedback is THE BEST DRUG EVER.

13. If you want to advertise this, that’s fantastic! It would be really appreciated. Just copy and paste the code provided above into your journal.

In conclusion, have FUN!

Master List

redrum669: Season 5 Sam needs to be forgiven and loved regardless of what he is and what he's done. For the love of God, do it! Gen, Slash, whatever. Just get that boy some damned hugs.

pkwench: Permanent injury. Any flavour.

blubird_pie: I'd love to see both boys get taken (for whatever reason) and Dean cares/comforts a distressed young Sam whilst in captivity.

dime_for_12: Are you brave enough to kill one of them? Your choice. Sam's either in agony and dying. Or Sam's trying to hold it together while Dean's slipping away.

lassiterfics: Pre-series: Sam's first week in the dorms at Stanford. He draws a single room and is shyly buying a plant, school supplies, and congratulating himself on making his tiny little room a home. Trouble is? He can't sleep. No matter how much he tries to wear himself out, he can’t sleep without Dean. Gen or slash is fine.

dime_for_12:Sam is shut down and hurting after Jess dies. Dean takes care of him through the next few days and the funeral.

blubird_pie: Season 5 Dean finds himself with DeAged Sam & he'd forgotten how much that kid like hugs - especially when scared.

blood_ecstasy: Wee!Sam gets the chicken pox and Dean gets to deal with it. I expect there to be lots of whining, smacking hands off of itchy spots, and tomato rice soup.

dither_river: Sam is shut down and hurting after Jess dies. Dean takes care of him through the next few days and the funeral.

annonwrite: Sam had a bad back and it hurts. A LOT. Dean makes fun of him. Then Dean realizes how bad it is. Then Dean feels guilty.

callistosh65: On a hunt in midwinter, Sam almost freezes to death. Dean finds him blue-lipped and still in a snowbank, gets him inside + takes care of him.

authoressnebula: From episode Swap Meat: Sam-in-teenage-boy's body has an asthma attack. Dean helps.

wicked_crayon: Sam agrees to let Michael try him on for size. It's an extremely, extremely bad fit and lasts for all of maybe a minute. Agony, issues of self worth, and one distraught, angry older brother are the result.

slsh_lvr08: A younger Sam gives birth on Dean's lap. Impala.

annonwrite: Early S1, Sam gets a cold/flu from not sleeping. Possibly also related to going swimming with his clothes on (1.3) or riding on an airplane (1.4)?

ancastar: S5 Sam is out of his head with fever for whatever reason. Thinks Dean is Ruby and that his brother is still in Hell.

pkwench: Sam's trapped inside his body with Lucifer in control. His thoughts/anguish/fighting to break free as Lucifer kills present!Dean and confronts past!Dean.

ratherastory: Crucifixion. *cough*

rosestoo: Michael and Lucifer face off in their best Winchester suits. Michael wins and sends Lucifer back to hell. He also sends Sam with him. Dean goes to find his brother. Sam suffers. A lot.

shyriann: S5 Sam is out of his head with fever for whatever reason. Thinks Dean is Ruby and that his brother is still in Hell.

ratherastory: Eye patch Sam! Sam loses one of those pretty eyes and has to cope with altered visual perception and looking like a pirate. Dean is awesome, over protective, angry as hell that this happened to Sam, and a completely amusing little shit.

sytaxia: After Sam has gone through detox after My Bloody Valentine he's still weak and feverish. Dean and Cas take care of him.

dime_for_12: Aftermath of Mystery Spot. Sam in serious fucking trauma, Dean slowly realizing the extent of what happened (hundred days of watching him die, six months without him). Sam needs to touch him at night to know he's real, afraid to sleep because he may wake up back in the Trickster's world without Dean, etc.

authoressnebula: 5x14. At the end of the ep, Sam locks himself inside the panic room using the original locking system (keep those inside safe from those outside). They've added anti-angel protection since last time so neither Dean nor Castiel can break in.

4422shini: The semi-bulletproof advantages of being marked as the devil's chosen vessel - being able to get between your brother and bullets. Trouble is? It fucking hurts, reapers turn their backs to you/hide behind their hands when you die, being brought back to life is scary, and your brother is really fucking pissed off at you for having done it.

dime_for_12: Something involving a bullet wound. Either one that Dean has to clean and stitch up or one that is already healed.

wicked_crayon: Sam's absolutely terrified to drive, feels just as guilty over John's death as Dean, has the occasional nightmare, and refuses to get behind the wheel.

ratherastory: Sam and Dean go undercover as Manly!Maids to investigate a haunting. Sadly, Sam has a dust allergy and just keeps sneezing.

pixymisa:Sam's always eaten more healthy than Dean, but he does have the occasional greasy burger. However, Dean's noticed since 4x22 Sam's eaten nothing but salads at every meal. They don't even have any meat in them. Can that be healthy? (Sam's gone vegetarian after quitting demon blood, avoiding the taste of anything even remotely like blood/meat.)

dante_s_hell: After Jump the Shark, Sam was bleeding so profusely. Surely there should be some h/c after that? :) He'd be weak and in pain and unable to do a lot of things for a few days after that.

dime_for_12:
Aftermath of "Heart." As soon as they walk out of that apartment, Sam falls back in the same place he was after Jess's death, except worse because it's the second time it's happened and he had to pull the trigger this time. He's shut down, doesn't want to talk, and Dean has to pull him out of it.

pixymisa: a severely injured S5 Sam gets sent to the past and is met by his preseries self/S1 self.

saberivojo: Pre-series, Sam is cleaning the knives at his father's request, and Dean's out for the night. In typical teenage boy fashions, screws around with them, trying out fight fighting moves he's not ready for. He cuts himself and tries to hide it from John, but John finds out.

saberivojo: Old Weschesters. It's no secret that Sam doesn't have as good of a seat on a horse as Dean does...

dime_for_12: Michael and Lucifer face off in their best Winchester suits. Michael wins and sends Lucifer back to hell. He also sends Sam with him. Dean goes to find his brother. Sam suffers. A lot.

faye_dartmouth: Some baddie is beating the crap out of our boy. The beating could be physical (fists and feet) or more magic related (along the lines of what happened to Dean in the season one finale). Dean is being forced to watch, but cannot intervene. All Sam has to do to get the whumping to stop is to tell the baddie to go pick on Dean instead. But he won't. No matter how much Dean begs him to.

pkwench: Wee!Chesters - Sam experiences night terrors.

melanth0: Sam goes insane. Not, oh, I'm a little crazy, but INSANE in whatever form you choose and Dean must reach him somehow.

m14mouse: The shifter in Skin really worked Sam over good. Some Dean taking care of him after and the two of them not dealing with what the shifter told Sam.

rosestoo: Michael and Lucifer face off in their best Winchester suits. Michael wins and sends Lucifer back to hell. He also sends Sam with him. Dean goes to find his brother. Sam suffers. A lot.

m14mouse: Wee!Chesters - A very wee Sam gets separated from John & Dean and winds up in protective services. He's sent to a state home while they try to figure out who he is, what to do with him. Sam does not thrive in this new environment and keeps looking under his bed and in the wardrobe, closets, big scary industrial kitchen, basements, attic ... everywhere for Dean and his Dad.

tifaching: History is littered with stories of brothers. This is one of them. Two brothers set out to save the world. The cost is high and the older brother is lost. It's said that the younger brother walks the country calling for him. From Maine to Kansas to Oregon, he walks. In torment, looking. Always looking. There are those that hunt things like him and they try, they do, but there are no bones to burn, no spells that will cast him out, no rituals that will ease his suffering. The only way to put this tormented spirit to rest lies in summoning the brother to take him home.

vail_kagami: Castiel takes care of Sam and Dean when Sam comes out of the panic room in 5.14.

vail_kagami: Following their separation in Good God Y'all, Sam gets a ride from someone allied against him. 'Break him,' they said. So the bad man, rapes him to a bloody mess.

Sorry, everyone. Spammers have found this entry, so I have to freeze all remaining comment threads. I think we're safe, it's a pretty old comment-fic meme. If anyone absolutely needs to comment here, PM me to let me know, okay? ~

ratherastory

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

ok. Gonna get started on this as soon as I get home from work.

*dies laughing* crackfic is in order

Gorgeous and so sad. I like the pervasiveness of time through the fic, it makes it real, gives it that feel of stagnancy versus time rushing by.

loved it :)

The first time it happens, Sam’s picking up their bag off the ground. They’ve just finished a hunt and are heading out of town before the credit card they’ve used at the motel catches up with them. He’s halfway down to the duffel’s handles when there’s a sharp, shooting pain somewhere in his lower back. On a scale from 1 to 10, Sam would say it’s about an “oh, fuck.” He can’t help but groan and mutter something similar to that sentiment.

“Too heavy for you?” Dean asks, a hint of sarcasm in his tone. He lifts the bag easily over his own shoulder.

“No. It’s just…my back.” The pain is receding in waves which allows him to straighten slowly, just in time to see Dean roll his eyes.

“How old are you again? I thought you were the younger brother. Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

Dean claps Sam firmly on the shoulder twice, which sends fresh bolts of pain down his spine. He grits his teeth and follows his brother out the door, his steps just a little bit slower than normal.

In the passenger’s seat, the pain settles to a dull throb. It’s still far from comfortable, and Sam finds himself fidgeting and twisting more than usual, searching for a halfway decent position.

“What, you got ants in your pants?” Dean asks with a sideways glance when the shifting becomes more pronounced.

“Fuck you,” Sam responds, the pain giving his tone a little too much bite.

Dean snickers. “Ants in your pants and a stick up your ass. Perfect.”

“Can we stop for food soon?” As much as he tries to keep the desperation out of his voice, it’s there.

Dean glances at the clock. “Let’s give it another hundred miles or so.” He pauses then reaches over to pop open the glove box. “I think there’s some M&M’s in here if you’re hungry.” Sam makes a face. Dean proudly produces the yellow bag and nudges the compartment closed. “Suit yourself,” he says around a mouthful of chocolate and peanut.

They keep driving.

Eventually, they arrive for their next hunt and check into a motel that looks a lot like the last seven or so. The day spent in the car hasn’t done Sam’s back any favors, even with a couple breaks for gas and food. He’s used to gritting his teeth and dealing with pain, but this is different. The pain is accompanied by spasms and tightness, and he’s actually having a hard time using his legs.

“Are you still bitching about your back?” Dean asks, making his second trip to Sam’s first. “Come on, grandma. Toughen up.” He takes the bag out of Sam’s hands, leaving him to limp his way inside empty-handed.

“Shut up,” Sam manages, a beat too late. He keeps one hand pressed to his spine and somehow manages to make it into the room.

Dean is already spread out on the bed closest to the door, flipping through a few channels with the duct-taped remote, and Sam half-way considers booting his brother to the farther bed just this once. But the extra steps won’t kill him, or at least he hopes they won’t, so he trudges over to stretch out flat on his own bed, pleased when the relief is even somewhat close to what he imagined.

“Hey,” Dean’s voice registers, and Sam realizes he’s been dozing. “You gonna shower or anything?”

A shower would be good, and he has to piss, but even that can wait because Sam’s not moving anytime soon. “No,” he says, not bothering to clear the sleep from his voice.

“Okay,” he responds after a beat. When he tugs off Sam’s boots and it sends shocks of pain up his spine. Sam tries to protest, but the noise ends up sounding something like a whimper. The pain passes quickly, Sam falls back to sleep before he can hear his brother’s response to that, and he’s grateful on both counts.

Sam doesn’t sleep well. The mattress isn’t optimal for a bad back – hard, lumpy, and lacking any give. Plus, it smells like something Sam isn’t sure he wants to identify, so he dozes with fits and starts. His back feels a little better when he wakes up, though, so he’ll take it.

Someone requested it on

spnstoryfinders the other day, which in turn urged me on to finish my fic about this very topic. I just posted it here! (http://authoressnebula.livejournal.com/882498.html) ^_^ Way too big for a comment fic, though. Over 1,800 words. LOL

~Nebula

Edited 2010-03-02 21:09 (UTC)

The pain comes and goes as they research, interview, and fit pieces of the puzzle together. It’s more coming than going by the end of the day, and Sam’s glad there’s no grave-digging in their immediate future.

“Want to get a drink? Play a little pool?” Dean asks that night, turning into the parking lot without waiting for Sam’s response.

It might not be a bad idea. A couple of Advil washed down with a few drinks might not be a medically approved treatment, but it usually works for the Winchesters. Unfortunately, tonight the treatment does little than take the edge off the pain, and the bar stool seems to make it worse.

“You ready to get out of here?” Dean asks after only two drinks, minimal flirting, and two games of pool under his belt.

Sam is too grateful to say anything more than “yes” and limp out a few steps behind his brother.

“Alright. Let me see,” Dean says when they’re face to face back in the motel room.

“See what?”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Your dick. What do you think, dumbass? Let me see your back. It’s been two full days of your whining. Thought I should take a look.”

Sam doesn’t feel up to arguing, so he just sighs and turns around. Dean lifts his shirt, and uses confident, careful hands to feel along Sam’s lower ribs and spine.

“No bruises or swelling. Nothing feels cracked.”

“Yeah,” Sam says, already knowing that would be the case.

As he lowers the shirt, Dean asks, “So, is this ‘I’m hiding internal bleeding’ type pain? Kidney infection? Anything else I’m going to have to kick your ass for? Or just a muscle?” There’s emphasis on the word “just.”

Sam turns to face his brother. “Just a muscle,” he echoes.

Dean nods, then edges around Sam towards the bathroom. “I’ll try to save you some hot water,” he says with a wink, even though Sam knows it’s not true.

Two more pain-filled days pass. Dean convinces Sam that he’s been doing too much research and not enough physical work. Weak muscles get pulled or strained. Strong muscles don’t. It’s true, Sam knows. He grits his teeth a little harder and forces his muscles into compliance, doing his best to ignore the pain.

It’s a simple movement that tips Sam over the edge. He just twists, swinging his legs to get out of the passenger seat, but it sends him into a tailspin. Pain shoots from his lower back down to his toes and back up to his skull. There are stars in front of his eyes and he’s locked in place, unable to move at all for fear of losing consciousness. He cries out, the noise sounding foreign even to his own ears, and Dean is at his side.

“Sam?” he asks, concern evident in his voice. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

“Back” is the only word Sam can manage as the spasms increase in duration, frequency, and intensity.

“Your back? Still? Shit, Sammy.”

The spasms aren’t letting up and Sam can’t move, can’t really feel his legs, and is starting to panic. There’s nausea rising in the back of his throat, and he gags, which only adds to the pain.

“Just breathe, Sammy,” Dean says, his voice suddenly confident and calm. One of them has to be. “Puking isn’t going to help anything.”

Sam focuses on Dean’s voice and getting air into his lungs and thinks he hears Dean mumble something about the interior of his car. Figures. He does manage to calm down a little, but the pain is far from letting up. There are strong hands along his back and Sam knows Dean can detect the spasm, can feel the knots right through the fabric of his jacket.

“This is probably gonna hurt,” Dean says, and before Sam can open his eyes or question anything, Dean is turning him on the seat and putting his legs back in the car, and to say it hurts is the understatement of the century. Sam gags again and can’t see anything, and he’s pretty sure he blacks out, because the next thing he’s aware of, Dean is forcing pills into his mouth and making him swallow them with a sip of water. They taste like Vicodin, which surprises Sam because those are usually saved for things like bullet wounds and compound fractures. Not just a muscle spasm.

Sam clings to consciousness and prays for the pills to start working. At some point he realizes Dean is back in the driver’s seat and they’re moving. Every pothole and turn is punishment, and Sam wants everything to stop. The movement. The spasms. The pain.

“Shit,” Dean mutters after a particularly large pothole he must not have been able to avoid. “Why didn’t you tell me it was this bad, huh Sammy?” His voice is less angry and more guilty when he adds, “Why didn’t I notice? Why did I make you keep going? Shit,” he adds again, probably for good measure.

Sam opens his eyes when the car stops moving. Through blurry vision, he sees that the building in front of him is not the motel, so he closes his eyes again.

“Still with me?” Dean asks.

“Yeah,” Sam manages, and even that hurts.

“I’ll be right back, okay? Don’t move.”

Sam wants to laugh because that’s the most ridiculous order he’s ever been given. Like he’s going to be doing anything resembling moving. The pills kick-in, and though they don’t take away much of the pain, they do calm him and make him feel a little bit less in touch with reality. It’s a nice change. He fades in and out and tries to go somewhere that doesn’t hurt quite so much.

“Sammy,” Dean’s voice comes a little while later, and Sam forces his eyes open to see three more pills in front of him in his brother’s hand. He swallows them greedily, not caring what they are, not caring if they’re more Vicodin and are going to knock him out completely, not even caring that his mouth is dry and he almost chokes.

“Easy,” Dean says, and Sam thinks he’s a little bit too late.

When Sam wakes, he’s pretty sure he’s dead. There’s no pain or spasms and he’s warm and feels like he’s laying on a cloud. Yeah. He’s dead. And damn if he isn’t thrilled about that.

“Sam?” a voice says. “You wakin’ up?”

Sam tries to fall back underneath layers of sleep or death or whatever they are before the pain can come back, but Dean’s voice prevents that.

“Sammy? Open your eyes. Let me know you’re alright.”

Using all the energy he possesses, Sam pries his eyelids apart. A blurry version of Dean forms in front of him. Okay, so he’s not dead, but there’s still not any pain.

“How are you doing?” Dean asks.

Sam mumbles something and even he’s not sure what he meant to say.

“How’s your back, huh? Come on, Sam. Wake up.”

“What’d you give me?” he manages.

Dean smirks. “Vicoden and Valium. Don’t even ask how I got the Valium. You don’t wanna know. Is it working?”

“Yeah,” Sam answers, moving slightly, pleasantly surprised at the lack of pain. There’s something warm on his back, right where the pain used to be. “Dude, did you buy a heating pad?”

“Yeah.”

A beat passes. “Thanks.”

“Never seen back spasms like that before, Sammy. You should’ve seen the knots on your back.”

“Felt ‘em,” Sam responds. His eyes slip closed and he fights to stay awake.

“You want another pill? You should probably eat something. Those things will tear up your stomach.”

Sam just grunts.

“Want to sleep some more first?”

“Yeah,” he mumbles, shifting a little and remembering what comfortable feels like.

“Alright. Get some rest.”

“Hey, Dean?” Sam asks, forcing his eyes open for a minute.

“Yeah?”

“Think I’m going to need a massage. Help me out?”

Dean snickers and rolls his eyes. “Pain pills and heating pads are as far as I go.” Even Sam manages a smile. When Dean speaks again, his voice is a little softer. “Sorry I gave you a hard time about your back. I didn’t know it was that bad.”

“’s not so bad anymore.”

“Good,” Dean says. “That’s good. Why don’t you get some more sleep.”

Sam doesn’t need to be told twice.

“J-Jess?”

Dean froze. He’d just added and tucked in blanket number three, and Sam was finally trying to focus on him. “Uh... not quite, Sammy.”

“J-Jess?”

Jesus Christ.

Dean bit his lip. Then he smoothed Sam’s hair back, still way too relieved to be anything but grateful.

“No, dude. It’s Dean.”

Sam’s brow furrowed, his throat worked, and then it was clearly all too much and he closed his eyes.

Sam’s skin was still too cold, and while his lips were no longer blue Dean knew from getting his father through something similar that, stuttered confusion aside, until Sam started vibrating like a pneumatic drill they were not out of the woods.

Which was why when Sam groaned and jackknifed across the bed about three minutes later, Dean was right there to breathe out a sigh of relief and catch him.

“D-d-dean?”

Much better. “Right here, you reckless fucking idiot.”

“D-d-dean?”

Okay, so maybe the scolding was going to have to wait.

“Yeah. Right here, Sammy.” He organized Sam and the blankets again, and then leaned in, pinning the shivering figure into them as best he could. “You okay?”

“C-c-cold.”

Dean smiled. “No shit, genius.” He leaned in a little more. Sam’s eyes were focusing again, but his teeth were the loudest thing in the room. And considering how high Dean had the ancient heating system turned up, that was saying something.

“No milk, but how about wrapping your hands around some hot coffee?”

Dean took all the shuddering as a yes.

In the end it was Dean who wrapped his hands around the coffee, since Sam would have shaken half the cup into the blankets before swallowing a single mouthful.

Dean got Sam up on the pillows and held the cup to his mouth at just the right angle. “There you go. Come on, Sam, a little more.” It was a litany and a practice that came easy, borne of a childhood spent spoonfeeding all manner of soup and mashed up fruit into one fussy baby brother.

“That’s better, much better. Just... what?”

Sam was glaring at him. “Suh-suhweet,” he managed, and Dean’s chest unlocked because really, everything was going to be okay.

“Hey, you need the energy as well as the heat, iceman. Just finish it for me.”

Sam did. Dean offered another but Sam shook his head. At least, Dean thought he shook his head. His teeth were still chattering and it was hard to see anything except dark hair and a furrowed forehead above the blankets.

“Dean?”

Oh, and the puppy eyes, of course.

“Sammy, no...”

“Please, Dean. I’m fuh-fuh-fucking freezin’.”

“That’s because you’re a fuh-fuh-fuckin’ moron.”

But Dean was already standing and peeling off his shirt. He got down to his t-shirt and boxers, lifted a corner of the blankets, and then pointed a finger at his brother.

“Some ground rules first. You are not taking shit off, you are not putting those ice-cold feet anywhere near me, and you are not, I repeat not, cuddling me.”

Sam nodded, shifted over, and then broke two out of the three fairly instantly and persistently.

About all he managed to do, was keep his shit on.

******

Edited 2010-03-02 21:37 (UTC)

I love it! this is so exactly what I was hoping for.

the stuttering is concern-inducing/adorable. and that he calls for jess...oh, sam.

my favorite line:

“That’s because you’re a fuh-fuh-fuckin’ moron.”
love dean. LOVE.

FFFFF i am totally writing this. love me some crazysam.

I think I love you even more than I did before. ♥ THIS.

AWESOMENESS. And SO what a really bad back spasm feels like. Poor baby. *pets him*

I'm so saving this and printing it out to be put with my absolute favorites. You are awesome.

~Nebula

Loved how you threaded time through this; the way Dean counted it leant real poignancy to the aftermath for Sam.

Nicely done. Loved the last line especially, and this: “A toy? How about a gun?” made me smile - very Dean-like:-)

Wow, that was utterly compelling. Such rich prose and so much of a tale set up and told beautifully. Thank you so much.

Thank you! I like that line too ;)

Wow. I love this! Mostly because I too suffer from frequent spasms like this. >.< they're not fun at all!! Good job!!!

YAY! This is exactly what I was hoping for and more. Thank you so much!

Don’t even ask how I got the Valium. You don’t wanna know AND

“Alright. Let me see,” Dean says when they’re face to face back in the motel room.

“See what?”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Your dick.

I am STILL giggling. Love the humor, the hurt is beautiful, love how Dean is a dick and then remorseful, love it all. Thank you again so much for filling my prompt *is happy*

SWEET! *runs to your LJ*

That was sweet!!

brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!

enjoyed every shiver!

Thank you so much for this. I've had two marvelous responses to this prompt, Hooray! I loved the way Dean counted the passage of time and how he took care of Sam throughout it all. This was sad and uplifting at the same time. Great story, thanks again!

Oh man, OUCH! Wow.

This is so well done. A great study of both brothers. Sam knows every word of Back In Black, because Dean won't let him NOT know them. He says "over my dead body" to bad guys that want to get at Sam and means it. And Sam misses him, but won't do anything about it if he's not drunk. Such a great story, thank you for sharing!

Oh, Sam. Oh, Dean. This was heartbreakingly awesome!

Notes: Pretty much the first thing I've ever written and posted for SPN, so feedback is very welcome!
Spoilers for episode 5.13 – The Song Remains the Same

-

Michael is still wearing a young John's flesh when he meets Sam in a place that is nothing but whiteness and bright light.

Sam gasps as life returns to his new, unharmed body. Reflexively, he grasps at his stomach, pawing at the area where only a second ago there'd been a pipe impaling him. His heart thumps wildly, like it's surprised to be beating again.

“Samuel,” John's body says, and Sam fixes wild eyes on him.

“You're not John,” he says, confidently. The younger version of John wasn't the man that Sam had known growing up, but he could see his father in him. Not so anymore.

John's head nods serenely.

Sam's mind races and it only takes a few seconds for the pieces to click into place. “Michael.” Silence between them for a beat. “What do you want?”

Michael's smile is devoid of warmth. “Honestly? Your brother. His disobedience is wearying.”

Sam quirks a grin that he usually saves for telling off demons. “Dean's like that.” His smile fades as he looks at Michael, really looks at him. “You're using my dad as a vessel.”

“How very observant of you.”

“No, don't you get it?” Sam asks, hands waving. “You all keep saying that Dean's your only vessel.”

“Of course Dean is not my only vessel. The ability to harbor an angel is passed down, through bloodlines. You know this.”

Sam nodded. “Jimmy's daughter. She was a vessel for Castiel.”

“This is in your father's bloodline, and he passed it on to your brother... to you.”

Sam snorts. “Except I'm reserved for your brother.”

Michael tilts his head to the side, a gesture that reminds Sam of Castiel so vividly that he almost laughs. “Yes. That is the theory.”

Something about the way that Michael pauses has Sam on high alert. “You don't agree?”

“We are not all-knowing, Samuel. There is much we do not understand; like you, we are simply doing our jobs to the best of our ability.” Michael fixes Sam with a pointed stare. “It is possible that we have misread the situation. Underestimated the possibilities.”

“You're talking about using me. As your vessel.”

Michael nods.

“What makes you think I'd say yes where Dean won't?” Sam asks.

Michael raises his eyebrows in amusement. “Dean is not facing the choice that you are. If Dean says 'yes' to me he worries that he will be destroyed in the process; he worries that I may cause unnecessary harm to this world. But you?” Michael laughs, a quick and inhuman sound. “If you say 'yes'? You will destroy the world. Your body will be used to kill everyone you have ever known, anyone you have ever cared about, and then you'll tear your world to pieces.”

There is a cold pit in Sam's stomach at Michael's words because he knows they're true. It's why Sam will never say 'yes' to Lucifer. He can't blame Dean for fighting, but in his darkest moments, Sam wished that he had Dean's choice. He wished that all of his options amounted to saving the world, instead of being its destructor.

“What if you're wrong?” Sam asks quietly. “What if it doesn't work?”

“I do not know, Samuel. You could be destroyed, or maybe nothing will happen at all.” Michael says the word 'destroyed' like its the better of the two options.

In the end, it's the easiest decision in the world. If it does work, Dean is off the hook... and if it doesn't work, maybe Sam will be blown into enough pieces to stop Lucifer from riding him to judgement day.

“Do it.” Sam says through clenched teeth.

Michael's eyes shine. “You agree to be my vessel?”

“Yes.”

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A Sam-focused h/c meme!

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