The Idea: Hey guys! I've just recently caught up on Supernatural, I watched season 13 and 14 over the last week and of course now I'm in the mood to write the boys again. Since I always write hurt/comfort one-shots – heavy on the Limp!Sam, I've decided it's about time I take prompts, so many amazing authors have done this and I figure it's about time I get in on the fun!

My writing is sporadic, which is why I rarely write multi-chapter stuff - but I want to try this, especially now that we are heading into the final season of show. Please send your prompts to me by way of a review or PM – I can't promise I will write all of them, I'm hoping inspiration will strike, however as I haven't tried this before, we'll see how it goes.

Notes:

*Make your prompt as detailed or as basic as you want, I can't guarantee that I will be able to incorporate everything, it really all depends on the flow of the story.

*Sam will be whumped/sick etc. either mentally or physically (it's kind of my speciality haha)

*I don't write slash (sorry)!

*I'm not a doctor, so anything medical will be completely made up. I don't typically go too technical when it comes to hospital stuff, but I can try.

*When will it end? Who knows!

Those are the basics, if you've ever read any of my stuff before, you'll have an idea of what my typical style is. The prompt and whoever suggested it will be posted at the bottom of each story. I'll start us off with something small to get the ball rolling!

Let's Hurt Sam

A series of unconnected one-shots featuring Limp Sam and big brother Dean.

Chapter 1: Sam has a migraine, Dean goes out to grab painkillers and food for his little brother, only for the motel to go up in flames while he's out…Set sometime in S2, cause the boys were extra adorable in the early days!

Burn

Sam groaned from where he lay on the motel room bed, an arm thrown over his eyes as he willed his head to stop pounding. His brother moved around the room softly, but even the sound of the older hunter picking up his keys caused him to wince.

"Sammy," Dean spoke, his tone deliberately low and soothing, "I'm gonna go grab you something for that migraine."

"Mmmm." Sam managed through gritted teeth, not noticing that Dean was standing beside his bed until a cool cloth was draped across his forehead. The pain eased slightly, and the younger man opened his eyes by a fraction of an inch, his older brothers form coming into focus – albeit a bit blurred around the edges. "M'fine." He muttered, able to see the pinched look Dean had and hating the worry he was causing.

Dean rolled his eyes and squeezed his brother's shoulder, "Yeah, and I'm freaking Madonna. Rest kiddo, I'll be back in forty minutes tops." He waited until Sam grumbled in agreement before moving towards the door. The hunter checked the salt lines carefully and made sure the blinds were shut tight before leaving reluctantly, casting one last look at the younger man before he stepped out into the night.

He drove faster than he probably should, green eyes peeled for the closest pharmacy. The motel they were holed up in was pretty far off the beaten bath, the closest town a twenty-minute drive away – but Sam had been fading in the car, his mouth bracketed with barely contained pain and Dean had just wanted to get him into a bed.

It was the visions, whatever was going on in his little brothers' head, the psychic crap or whatever, the migraines that came after were getting increasingly worse and while Dean was trying hard not to worry, he was rapidly losing that battle. This wasn't something he could just fix, and it was driving him crazy. All the older brother could do was feed the kid painkillers and try and keep him hydrated.

He hated leaving Sam alone when he was in so much pain, and vulnerable to attack – but Dean hadn't realized that they were out of painkillers until after he'd gotten Sam into the room, and he didn't have the heart to drag him back out to the car for a forty minute errand. Still cursing himself under his breath for not checking the first aid kit after coming off their latest hunt, Dean's eyes found the bright lights of the local pharmacy.

Pulling the Impala into the first available parking spot, Dean hurried into the small store, grateful that they were still open even though it was approaching midnight. An older man at the counter, presumably the owner, looked up from the clipboard he was holding and offered a friendly smile that creased his eyes.

"Evening sir, what can I help you with?"

Looking around the empty aisles, Dean answered, "I need something for migraines and nausea."

"Ah, sick kid at home?" The man inquired, coming around the counter and leading Dean to a far corner.

Dean shrugged, "Something like that, yeah. My little brother."

"Just how little is he?" The pharmacist asked as he walked.

Frowning, Dean looked at the man with suspicion. "He's twenty-two, why?"

Looking surprised, the man held up his hands in a placating manner, "Sorry, I didn't mean to pry – I just wanted to know so I don't recommend the children's dosage." Turning from Dean, he plucked a bottle from the shelf, "This should help. Make sure he drinks plenty of liquid."

Dean relaxed, shoulders dropping as he took the bottle offered to him. "Yeah, I know – hey, you know anywhere that's still serving food? I should probably try and get some soup into him; kid hasn't eaten all day."

"Actually yes, drive south down Main street, make a left at Beaker, you'll find Sal's Diner, they should have what you need, they don't close until one on Saturday."

Paying for the medication, Dean nodded, "Great, thanks."

Meanwhile…

At first, Sam assumed his brother returning was what woke him. He shifted in bed, his head still pounded horribly, and he had no desire to open his eyes– even with the lights in the room off. Laying still to quell his rolling stomach, his ears picked up muffled shouting from outside.

Despite the misery he was in, Sam could sense the panic in the air. "Dean?" He rasped hopefully, disappointed but not surprised when he didn't receive an answer. Can't have been asleep long then, he thought to himself. Knowing he needed to see what was going on outside, he took a deep breath – bracing himself to stand up and investigate.

At least, he tried to take a breath and then choked almost immediately, gagging on smoke. The coughing caused his migraine to explode, rocketing up to what he would call a twenty on a pain scale of one to ten. Rolling to his side without thought, Sam vomited up bile before staggering to his feet. The room was dark but now that his eyes were open, he could see the smoky haze in the air.

He choked again, amazed at how fast the smoke had entered the room. Stumbling, Sam made for the door and towards the panicked voices – no doubt other guests who had escaped their rooms for the safety of the parking lot. His hand grabbed the handle and he let out a surprised cry of pain when his palm was instantly burned.

Growling, Sam ripped off the t-shirt he had fallen asleep in and used it to cover the handle, twisting it to the right easily. Unfortunately, when he tried to push the door open it wouldn't budge. What…? Cursing, Sam used his shoulder to slam into the wood, but it didn't move an inch. Backing away on unsteady feet, he coughed violently and squinted through the thickening smoke.

Something was blocked his exit, and the hunter could see flickers of orange through the closed blinds. Sam wrenched them open, his stomach dropping when he saw the wall of debris and orange flame that now obstructed his view of the parking lot.

Coughing uncontrollably, now nearly blind from the smoke and the horrible pain in his head, Sam dropped to his knees, mind whirring as he gasped for air. He'd been out of it when Dean had half carried him in here. He hadn't even used the bathroom yet, going straight for the comfort of the bed –

Wait.

The bathroom! Sam thought to himself desperately. He didn't know if there was a window in there, let alone if he could fit through it, but it was his last hope. He could feel the room heating up quickly, his exposed skin was slick with sweat and his hair stuck to his forehead.

It was the bathroom, or he was toast. Gagging, Sam tied his sleep shirt over his mouth and nose quickly, ignoring the flash of white-hot pain as he knotted the shirt tightly at the back of his head. Staying low, the youngest Winchester army crawled to what he hoped was freedom and Dean.

Sal's Diner...

Dean waited at the counter impatiently, checking his phone for the time and glancing at the lone waitress, whose nametag read Stacey. She sensed his anxiety and offered a smile, "It's almost done, Jeff was just taking the soup off the burner to pack it up."

Nodding gratefully, Dean turned his attention to the small TV mounted by the till. He watched without really listening as the late-night weatherman talked about the possibility of showers in the morning.

The small ding of a bell echoed through the empty diner, and Stacey propped her mop in the corner with a wink at Dean. "Sounds like order up to me. Just a sec."

Any other night, Dean would've taken that wink from a cute girl and ran with it, but not when Sam was hurting and waiting on his big brother. Standing, he pulled out his wallet to pay for the soup and sandwich he'd ordered for Sam (okay, the sandwich was for him – he hadn't eaten all day either).

"Here you are." The waitress smiled again, handing over the bag full of food. Dean grabbed it by the handle and handed over one of his phony credit cards. He waited impatiently for Stacey to run the card through the old scanner, trying not to let his annoyance show on his face when she struggled to get the card to read.

"Breaking news!"

The voice from the TV was clear in the empty diner, and Dean turned to look. The color drained from his face; green eyes wide with horror when the news cameras panned to the Sleepy Hound Motel – the one he had checked into barely an hour before.

"The fire has spread rapidly, Tom. We don't have any information yet as to the cause, but we do know that there are several people trapped inside. Firefighters are attempting to work through the debris to reach these rooms."

Sam.

Sammy!

Heart thundering against his ribcage, the take-out bag slipped through nerveless fingers. Dean turned and sprinted for the Impala, ignoring the startled shout from the girl behind him. The hunter threw himself into his car and ripped out of the parking lot, leaving the bewildered waitress still standing at the till with his credit card in her hand.

The fire was still blazing when Dean skidded into the parking lot. His eyes watered automatically at the intense heat as he bullied his way through the crowd of onlookers, most of them still wearing their pajamas and looking at the building with horror. Shouldering past a heavyset man who was staring transfixed at the flames, Dean called out for his brother. "Sam! Sammy?!"

His brother was nowhere in the crowd, and Dean felt his stomach flip with worry. Sam had been so out of it from the migraine and exhausted from the last two hunts. What if he's still in there? Dean ducked beneath the hastily placed police tap, sneaking by a distracted cop before breaking into a run in the direction of the room he had rented.

Dean staggered to a stop when he rounded the northwest corner. "No…" He whispered, eyes taking in the scene. The entire front facing section had collapsed – the doors from rooms 110 to 120 were gone, buried in a pile of flaming debris.

Looking at the room key in palm, Dean stared at the number stamped on the keychain.

116

"No!" He said again, this time shouting his denial. Dean sprinted for the debris, ready to pull each flaming chunk of wood away piece by piece. He was getting to his brother. "Sammy!"

A police officer intercepted his path and Dean brought up a fist, ready to knock out anyone who dared get in his way, only to have his wrist grabbed by a firefighter. "No! My brother is in there!" He snarled, struggling as another police officer ran over to help restrain him.

"Sir!" The first cop tried, "Sir, stop! You can't get in there, let the firefighters work or we'll need to contain you."

Dean continued to fight against the three men, determined to reach Sam. "No! SAM!"

"Sir, I'm sorry but there's nothing you can do." The firefighter spoke gently, releasing Dean and looking him straight in the eye. "My men will do their best to find your brother, but this section of the building has completely collapsed."

Dean felt the fight go right out of him, he looked at the older man – the Captain, with a look of devastation. The cops let go of him cautiously and fell back a step. He staggered under the crushing grief that hit him like a wave, a strangled sound in his throat.

This can't be happening.

Whirling away, Dean slammed his fist into the side of the closest ambulance and roared out his grief.

"SAMMY!"

Meanwhile…

Sam came to with a start, coughing and spitting out bile, his nostrils flared as he tried to take in the somewhat fresh air. Struggling to his hands and knees, he looked around blearily and realized that he was in the back section of the motel. He remembered getting through the bathroom window, the relief he'd felt when he had seen that window was something he wasn't likely to forget. He had managed to crawl some distance from the flames before passing out.

Struggling to rise, Sam leaned up against the back of a large dumpster, uncaring that his bare skin was touching the filthy metal. Still breathing through his nose, he closed his eyes and tried to decide if it was worth it to try and stand. How long has it been? He wondered, trying to think past the pounding in his head. He could hear the babble of voices from the other side of the building and guessed that it hadn't been too long since his escape.

Thirty Minutes? Forty?

His heart clenched when he thought of Dean, his big brother would be frantic with worry. Winchesters and fire didn't exactly have a great track record. Decided, Sam used the dumpster to slide up, his legs wobbled as he gained his feet. He needed to find his brother and let him know that he was okay – before Dean did something stupid like run into a burning building to save him – again.

Sam concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other, stopping frequently to spit bile and cough the smoke out of his lungs and throat. The air around him was miles better than what it had been like inside, and the fire hadn't spread to where he was– but the air still tasted like burning wood and plastic. The youngest Winchester knew that he should also be freezing, it was mid February and he was wearing only sweatpants – but he was warm and that likely meant the fire was still burning hot somewhere.

He could see flashing lights as he staggered out into the parking lot, hazel eyes taking in the scene. No one noticed him as he swayed on his feet, still partially concealed in shadow. Sam looked around, unsure of where to go and searching for his brothers face. The crowd out to his left were talking excitedly, and the emergency crews were barking orders – but he still heard his name over the din.

"SAMMY!"

Blinking, Sam stretched out a wobbly hand in the direction of the voice, heart twisting at the grief in the cry. "Dean." He croaked before another violent cough ripped through him, one hand went to his chest and the other to his head as it spent spikes of agony to both areas. Struggling to breath, he took only a second to gather himself before pushing forward.

Back to Dean…

Head and forearms resting against the side of the ambulance, Dean closed his eyes against the tears that were threatening. Shoulders shaking, his hands moved to the back of his head and he turned around to face the fire and the end of his entire world.

He just so happened to catch it out of the corner of his eye. Turning to his right, Dean lasered in on the shape making its way clumsily through the swirling smoke. Wearing only sweatpants, Dean could see the thin layer of soot and ash that coated his little brother's chest and face.

It took a second for his brain to process what his eyes were seeing, and he nearly fell to his knees in relief before stumbling forward at a dead run. "Sammy!" He called, reaching his little brother just as the taller man staggered. Sam fell directly into his arms and Dean brought them to the ground in a controlled fall. "Jesus Christ Sam, don't fucking do that to me again." He growled; eyes wet.

Sam hacked against his shoulder, "Dean, y'good?"

Dean barked out a semi-hysterical laugh. "I'm friggen' peachy."

"M'not wearing a shirt."

"Yeah – good thing I hadn't gotten around to unloading the Impala. We'll grab you a shirt outta the car." Dean answered, pulling out of the hug to look at the kids face, Sam looked like hell. "You need a hospital?" He asked seriously, shucking off his leather jacket and wrapping it around his brother.

The younger hunter made a face and shook his head, automatically trying to stand back up, eager to get away before one of the emergency workers found him.

"Whoa, hey okay slow down." Dean protested, shifting his hands so that Sam could lean against him as they rose up together. The kid teetered and coughed again, but his eyes were stubborn. "Alright," The older hunter relented, leading his brother towards the Impala, "But I'm keeping a close eye on you, Sammy, and if I decide you need a doctor you better not be a baby about it."

Huffing, Sam leaned against his brother's solid form, "I'll be fine."

"Yeah? You sound like you're about ninety years old and smoked three packs a day since you were eight." Dean replied bluntly, one arm wrapped around the kid's waist.

"Don't be a jerk." Sam whined; eyes closed against the flashing lights, trusting his brother to steer him safely towards the car.

"I won't be a jerk if you stop being a bitch." Dean shot back, but there was no rancor in his tone, just fond amusement.

"You suck, dude." Sam groaned, however the corner of his mouth ticked upward and the pain in his chest and head somehow didn't feel as bad as it had only moments before. He allowed Dean to guide him into the Impala, leaning up against the cool windowpane with a sigh of relief.

He heard the driver's door creak open and then close, not bothering to open his eyes as Dean turned over the ignition. Body relaxing, Sam dozed off to the sound of the rumbling engine and his brothers even breathing.

END

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Hope you liked this, please drop me a review and/or a prompt. Thanks for reading.

-Ashley