ohsam | comment fic meme!

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comment fic meme!

Time for a new comment fic meme! Please read the rules as there have been some adjustments due to the recent comment page changes.

SPREAD THE WORD

THE RULES

→ Leave a comment here with your prompt. 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. ;) )
→ In your prompt, please state your desired characters or pairings. All genres/pairings welcome, but no real-person (RPF) prompts.

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.”

→ Post as many prompts as you like - but one prompt per comment. If you've got a couple, comment with each separately.
→ Prompts can be as short or detailed as you like. Remember though - more detail means less wriggle room for the writer, which might lower the chances of someone picking up your prompt.
→ Go through the prompts! If you find one you like, write a fic for it. There's no limit to how many users can reply to a prompt, or how many prompts someone can write for.
→ When replying to a prompt with your comment-fic, put ‘filled’ in your subject line and then anything else you want, like 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. As subject lines are no more, please begin your fills with the word FILLED and a TITLE in BOLD - the first box on this page shows you how to position the bold tag for proper results.
→ If you notice that your fic is not on the master list after a decent amount of time (say, two days), please poke me in a PM. I might have missed it.
→ Anon posting enabled.
→ NO SPOILERS FOR UNAIRED EPISODES.
→ Play nice - no flaming and no character bashing, period. Any comments that break this rule will be deleted without warning.
→ Feedback is catnip for writers. Leave some author-love!
→ No spam comments.
→ Contact one of the mods if you have a question.
→ Spread the Sam love - pimp this meme!
→ Have fun!

THE MASTER LIST
Gastroenteritis by

saltfuture
Sam/Dean or gen, any season, Sam has stomach flu, all the nasty symptoms and Dean is just awesome.

Numb by

farfadine
Sam/Dean or gen. A sort of mundane nervous breakdown. Sam has been in awesome!Sam coping mode and suddenly he's just . . . not. But it's not, like, waving a gun around psychotic break. I more have a vision of Sam off doing something ordinary, jogging, an errand, and he just stops. Sitting down on the curb or in the aisle at Walmart or something. And someone gets his phone and calls the first number and Dean has to come and get him.

Everything Flows, Nothing Remains by

minviendha
S7: Dean's dead! Oh wait, no, sorry! It was all a terrible misunderstanding. Everything's fine, Sam. ...Sam?

Weaker by

monicawoe
Season 5 AU. The continuous influx of demon blood into his system completely unlocks Sam's full psychic potential, and his powers basically explode - visions, telekinesis, Andy's mind-control thing, demon manipulation (controlling and destroying). Getting them under control is not fun, especially after he and Dean go their seperate ways.

There is No Spoon by

monicawoe
Season 7, post The Mentalists. Um, what was up with Sam's bent spoon? No, really. Who did that? Subconscious telekinesis is all it takes to turn hallucination into reality.

Make Me Strong Like You by

hillz_85
Sam is acting like everything is fine, that he’s not falling apart at the seams because he needs to look out for Dean who is also falling apart... Dean doesn’t notice how bad things have gotten for his brother and his new coping mechanisms until they are pointed out to him... [author's summary]

Bad Days by

ladybastet92
Sam/Cas (set anytime where Cas is Cas) Sam is sick. Dean’s out doing important things, Cas shows up, Sam has to explain why he’s sleeping in the middle of the day. Cas decides he would like to take a nap as well. Sassy cuddles!

Miscalculation by

si_star_x
Slash. Sam gets some nasty cuts on his face. Dean cleans them. Gentle kissing happens.

By Your Side by

emmram
For some reason Sam get his psychic powers back...but rather than Sam controlling them, Lucifer seems to be able to.

Untitled by anonymous
Pre-series. Sam dealing with the aftermath of rape. Speak-esque, preferably with no graphic depiction of the act.

Out of Nothing at All by

sakura_no_mi
Sam/Dean or gen. Season seven - There are some days Sam doesn't get out of bed at all. Dean's understanding.

If it Wasn't for Bad Luck by

mamapranayama
Sam gets a minor injury- a book falls on his head or he breaks his pinky or something, lol. Dean fusses over him, and discovers Sam is running a fever.

Visit by

saltfuture
Stanford era. Dean visits Sam and finds him sick in bed in his dorm room.

Sleepless by anonymous
Gen or slash, S1 or 2. Sam develops really bad insomnia. Really really realllllllly bad. The sleep deprivation is interfering with hunting and he's all cranky and life just generally sucks but he just can't sleep much. So Sam's exhausted beyond all belief, and Dean is so worried about him. He tries everything he can think of to help and none of it works. But eventually Dean stumbles upon one thing that's actually effective. Bonus points if it's something really small and schmoopy, like stroking Sam's hair while he's lying in bed.

Trust in Me and You'll Trust in Yourself by

hillz_85
After Dean and Sam separate season 5, Sam stops talking. Even if he wants to, he has somehow lost the ability to talk [...] When Dean meets up with him again, he's of course shocked at this new development. Whether Sam starts talking again eventually is up to you, but I'd love to see Dean coax him out of his mental shell in little, big-brotherly ways.

Untitled by

checkthemargins
Sam gets hit with a sleeping curse (it can last for however long you want). After awhile Dean starts waking him up to get him to eat and stuff. Sam is sleepy and adorable and maybe cranky some of the times he's woken up. [WIP]

Life Goes On by

ravelqueen
A super wincesty one: Dean breaks off the sexual aspect of their relationship for a bunch of surely very good reasons, but Sam is pretty sure it's because he doesn't like the idea of Sam hallucinating while they're in bed. Or because Sam is all tainted with demon blood. Or because Sam isn't Lisa. Or because he just doesn't want him anymore. His train of thought doesn't go uphill from there. Big misunderstandings and relationship angst ahoy! My unrequited love kink rears its ugly head. [WIP]

It Happened Like This by

monicawoe
Dean never went and got Sam from Stanford when John was missing. So when Jess died, Dean wasn't there, and Sam went totally John Winchester, left without a word to anyone, and would not rest until he took down Azazel [...] all I'm looking for is the last scene when Sam finally gets his revenge and maybe John and Dean are there and now that Sam's work his done he breaks into a billion pieces and there is withdrawal and severe psychic pains and screaming and Sam hating himself for what he's become but kind of unapologetic for killing the thing that killed his girl.

Falls the Shadow by

inheritedjeans
Gen. Post AHBL part one and AU from there. Sam wakes up on that dirty mattress after Cold Oak with all of his memories of dying and going to heaven intact in his head (maybe he was reuinted with Jess or finally got to meet Mary and was just starting to enjoy having a mom) and he's resentful towards Dean for bringing him back to life and taking him from the peace he finally had and he's almost desperate to go back.

Singin' in the Rain by

center_galaxy
Dean doesn't know what to do about the whole broken wall, psychotic break, hallucinating Lucifer thing. Then Sam gets caught in the rain and gets pneumonia. And Dean DOES know what to do about that. Not like he's glad that Sam's sick, but it's just a relief to have something wrong with Sam he can help with. And, since he's there at close quarters taking care of Sam, Sam has his opportunity, too: to broach the subject of Dean's drinking, to try to get him to talk about his despair and his downward spiral. Basically, the manageable hurt/comfort routine goes on while Sam and Dean are tentatively touching on the big, huge hurt-don't-know-how-to-comfort stuff.

Ticking Time Bomb by

center_galaxy
Sam finds out he has an aneurysm in his brain. It could be life-threatening, but for the moment it is stable and the doctors schedule him for a surgery to repair it, but it is weeks away. Dean freaks out by overprotecting Sam and doing anything he can keep his brain from 'exploding' in the mean time. He practically drives Sam insane when he won't let him run, do any physical exercise, or even go to the bathroom with the door locked. Dean mother-hen's him to the point where he can't stand it anymore and Sam takes off for a walk ... of course, now that he is alone and separated from Dean, this is when his brain decides it's time to explode.

The Apple Falls from the Tree by

center_galaxy
He's been in the business a long time and most of that time he knew John Winchester but never really got to know his kids before, so going on a hunt with them is interesting to say the least. Watching Dean and Sam, how in tandem they are, how much they're like John in different ways. One things for sure though, Dean sure can be one scary mother fucker when Sam is threatened.

Fighting Spirit by

center_galaxy
Dean gets his shit together in the drinking department. It was hard HARD work (either on his own--maybe something really traumatic happened that compelled this new lust for a dry life--or via ye olde Twelve-Step program.) And sure, there are painful desires to backslide but dammit, he's got this. And he's had to do it alone because he can't use anything, anyone as a crutch or an excuse any longer. Upon returning to "life", he discovers Sam has drifted into his own addiction (due to the hallucinations or genetics or hey, it's Tuesday or...yeah. Author's choice!) Now Dean has to get through to Sam and save him from himself, without losing his own hard-won sobriety.

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Sam is getting better at hiding in plain sight. He can smile at waitresses in diners and say “Hunting accident,” before they push through their pause. He can act like a normal guy who just happened to get his face torn up and stitched back together. He can be so friendly and sweet that the wariness fades away and is replaced by pity. And pity isn’t… it’s not something that he wants, but it’s better.

But he prefers the night. The darkness is good for moving, good for stalking. The night is for hunting, and Sam has wasted too much time in his life with being distracted by the sun.

Bobby had insisted that Sam stayed put until his face was mostly-healed, and Sam got out of there fast when the stitches came out. Bobby knows about scars, about healing, and Sam is grateful for the care. He hasn’t really had that before, someone telling his to sit the damn hell down and just wait. And if Sam is going to get Dean back, Bobby’s books are an asset. But Sam couldn’t stay long. Because Bobby only ever looks at his scars – objective assessing stares, making sure the stitches stay clean and the massive tube of scar reduction cream at least pretends to do its job. All that focus and Sam just wants to wave his hand in front of Bobby’s face and say, hey, I’m still here under all of this mess. Remember me?

Ruby tells him that there might be a way to speed up the healing, that demon blood would fix him right up. Sam pushes her away when she tries to kiss him, pushes away the bloody palm she holds under his nose. He’s lost a month of his life to his stupid face and those stupid scars. Dean has lost a more than that and Sam doesn’t have the time any more to feel sorry for himself.

“You won’t ever get laid again with a face like that,” Ruby tells him.

“Really not the goal here,” Sam replies. Ruby would probably be up for it, but Sam has never let her kiss him. The playthings of hell have had enough fun with his face as it is. He doesn’t like anyone getting too close. He doesn’t even like the stares, the children pointing, but it’s still so much better than cool, gloved fingertips on his face and sad eyes breaking that expression of professional interest. Sam is okay with never having sex again, he just wishes he could escape that curious pity. Wishes he could escape the world that he was once so desperate to be part of. He doesn’t fit there, and that is more obvious no than ever before.

He holds his head high when he meets hunters, too high for eye contact. All hunters have scars. It makes him more recognisable, but also more formidable. Hunters are scared of him now, this crazy boy who took on a hell hound, who talks about ripping the ground open to get his brother back. Ruby likes it, likes the power that comes from fear, but it makes Sam’s skin crawl. He remembers Ellen talking about hunters who go wrong inside. He doesn’t want to be one of them, doesn’t want to turn into a monster himself just because he looks like one on the outside and feels like one on the inside. There’s a distinction there somewhere, a line that he can’t quite see.

But demons, those he stares right in the eye. They tease and they taunt – Sam is hell’s very own dog-faced boy. They tell him that the hound who got him so good is getting fed well, growing plump off Dean’s flesh. And Sam stares those demons right in the eye as he slams the knife home, watching them light up and fade out. The pull of the scars feels good then, feels reassuring and real. It’s not an act, snarling into those twisted faces. It’s a relief.

“So what the hell happened to you?” Dean asks when they’re finally sitting down across from one another. Four months and forty demonic years from that pretty little house in the suburbs where a stupid plan had lived up to its reputation.

Sam tilts his head forward, hiding behind his bangs, and laughs. Because, seriously? Dean’s spent however long in hell and he’s worried about Sam? He looks up at his brother with his new, lopsided smile, and waits for Dean to finish taking him in. It’s an act; Sam isn’t really comfortable smiling anymore. But it’s an important act and Sam puts his all into it for Dean. Anyone else, and Sam would keep his head ducked down to avoid attention. But this is Dean, and if he wants to look he’s going to.

“Did you know that you can pick a hell hound up by the scruff of its neck?” he asks. “They don’t like it.”

“You took on a hell hound?”

Sam shrugs. “I got one off you. What about you?” Sam asks, keen to move on. “Don’t tell me you got out of hell looking as pretty as when you went in.”

There’s a pause, and then Dean pushes one sleeve up. Sam raises his good eyebrow. “Wow,” he says. “That’s different.”

“Yeah,” Dean says. “The whole ‘coming back’ thing has been pretty different.” There’s a pause, and Sam wonders if Dean wants to ask Sam if it was like this the one time he died, that one stupid awful time when Dean did everything and anything and the one thing he shouldn’t have to get him back.

“I tried,” Sam says, surprising himself. “I tried everything.” He smiles his lopsided smile and looks down at the table, because Dean being gone still hurts in a way that the itch of healing skin had never been able to distract him from. Even with Dean sitting across from him with that same easy sprawl of his doesn’t ease the pain. Because Dean is different; there’s something different in his gaze and differences in his face. And he’s looking at Sam like he’s trying to find his brother under those slashes and the changed line of Sam’s nose and he just keeps looking, keeps missing the fact that Sam is right there in front of him. “We went through so many demons. They started coming to the crossroads with bodyguards. I was getting ready to bust down there and get you.”

Dean snorts. “I would have kicked your ass if you ever set foot there. You and Bobby kicking ass for me up here? That’s cool.”

Sam worries at his bottom lip for a moment. “Me and Ruby,” he finally corrects, and fully anticipates the look Dean gives him. “She had the contacts.”

“I thought she was dead?”

Sam shrugs. “So were you.”

*

Sam finds it horribly ironic that Dean tells people off for staring. “Haven’t you ever seen someone who cut themselves shaving before?” he snaps at motel receptionists who pause in making a booking when Sam steps through the doors. “My brother got something on his face?” he’ll ask icily when a waitress sucks a breath through her teeth when Sam looks up at her to give his order.

Dean’s still looking at the gash of red across Sam’s face instead of meeting his eyes. But compared to before, compared to no Dean at all… It’s better. It’s not so bad.

Sam isn’t good with people any more, and Dean struggles to fill Sam’s ‘good guy with the puppy dog eyes’ role. Dean has to talk to the high schoolers; Dean has to fake being a police officer on his own; Dean has to talk to doctors and teachers and find some kind of credibility deep inside himself. Sam is too recognisable. Sam is too impatient. Sam makes people uneasy. Dean may be wrecked and ruined inside after his time in hell – and he is, he tries to hid it from Sam but while Dean is staring at Sam’s mess of a face Sam is looking right down deep into Dean’s soul – but at least it’s a kind of fucked up that is easy to hide.

When Sam had first tumbled back into hunting, when he’d first finally understood that angry constant burn for revenge, he’d needed that connection with ordinary people. He’d needed that idle conversation about the weather and how a stranger’s day was going. He’d needed moments of being normal, keeping the skills of small talk fresh and easy. He realises now that he’d needed it because he’d assumed that he would go back one day. But each year is taking him further away; he can’t even see that good path he was on through the brambles and tangles he’s been caught up in. Psychic powers, devil’s gate, Dean dying, and now the seals breaking all over the place. Sam can only slip into the role of the normal guy for short moments now; a costume that doesn’t fit and his face is no longer suited to acting.

He likes the messy history of Halloween, the ghosts and demons and the odd comfort in having a ‘peak season’ for hunting, but the holiday has always rubbed him the wrong way. Monsters in plain sight and somehow people can laugh at that, can think that it’s all just so much fun. But this mauled face of his casts the holiday in a new light. It’s the old, unblemished Sam that would feel like a mask now and Sam is sick of the awkward jokes that the people in this town are making about him getting into costume early. But he listens to Dean bitch about witches, and he does the kinds of research that don’t involve talking to people, and he looks up with a wry expression of irritation when he hears something fluttering in the non-existent breeze of the motel room.

And a pair of hard blue eyes look back. Two hands clasp his own large paw, and he hears a rough and tumble voice say, “Sam Winchester, the boy with the demon blood. It is good to see that you are well.” And there’s no irony in there, none at all. There is no pause or horror, no gaze flitting all over his face like a bug unable to settle. It’s the first time someone has looked in his eyes first and foremost since the day that Dean died, and it makes something deep in Sam ache.

“I don’t know how you handle that stare,” Dean remarks later. “I always feel like he’s poking around in my brain or something.”

“It’s a nice change to what I usually get,” Sam replies. Dean gives him a sideways look, and doesn’t answer.

*

Sam finds it impossibly frustrating that of all of the people in his life at the moment, Castiel is the only one to look him in the eyes and stare at Sam instead of the scars. Castiel is also the only person in Sam’s life who apparently has no interest whatsoever in Sam, beyond the cursory link between Sam and Dean’s general wellbeing.

During the search for Anna’s grace, she shies away from Sam. Looks anywhere but directly at him until Dean snaps at her and Anna snaps back with just as much legitimacy and the two of them sulk and smoulder at each other. Sam is largely unsurprised when they sleep together. But Anael is a different creature and she stares right into Sam with the same intensity Castiel holds, though her view is perhaps angrier. That’s how Sam equates Castiel to the good little solider and Anael to the role of deserter, the child who left. While he’s sure no angel would appreciate the sentiment, Sam feels an affinity with her. Envy, too, as she had so many years of a normal life while even at his very best Sam had never been able to hide the reality from himself.

“You’re not afraid to look at me anymore,” he comments shortly after she has reclaimed her wings. He has a string of voicemails on his phone from Ruby, but he’s not interested in arguing with the demon about her blood and why he won’t drink it. He was looking to be alone, and it is only when Anael joins him that he realises that no, that’s never been what he has wanted.

Anael is beautiful, and ethereal, and her presence speaks of more years than Sam can comprehend. The two of them could not be more different by design.

“Bodies are impermanent,” Anael replies. “It’s the soul that is important.”

Sam looks out at the gravel of the parking lot, and doesn’t mind at all when Anael keeps staring at him. “And how does my soul look?”

Anael looks at him then, looks deep into him and Sam can feel the prickle of her presence under his skin, the burn of her in places that are broken. “You have not taken the paths that were expected of you,” she replies. Angels, Sam is learning, do not like answering questions.

“I don’t think I’m very good at following paths,” Sam admits. He strayed off the path his father had laid out for him, the path to law school that he had determined for himself. He’d even strayed from whatever path the yellow-eyed bastard had set him on, judging by the lack of psychic powers of late. “I think I’m better at screwing things up.”

Anael reaches out and wraps her hand around three of Sam’s fingers, as much of his hand that her own can embrace. She smiles at Sam (a ghost of her human smile, but confident and beautiful all the same) and Sam smiles back, making the scars on the right side of his face crinkle stiffly. “You are,” she replies. “But it’s not so bad.”

*

Time may heal a wound, but it does nothing to erase the scar left behind. Sam is never going to be free of the cruel lines of red on his face, of the stares and the pauses, the wrought iron fence keeping him locked away from the world. But Dean will never be free of his time in hell, of the sick need to sacrifice himself for others. The angels by their sides will never be free of their respective betrayals, of the decisions they have made and the plans they have disrupted. The world will never be free of the slow and steady creep, creep, creep of demons out of hell.

But Dean is looking him in the eyes, and shocked stares soften when Sam smiles. It’s not so bad, and – for this one thing at the very least – it’s getting better.

The end.

I cannot tell you how much I love this!

*dances* Thank you so much for filling this prompt!

This is gorgeous! Wow, amazing. Just... Gah!

You've broken my coherency with this phenomenal amazingness.

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