Well fancy seeing you here.

How is everybody? I'm currently waiting in suspension for my new hipster glasses to arrive, and I really want to get them before I go to this festival, so wish me luck everybody!

I really enjoyed writing the first chapter to this, and it's mainly Hurt/Limp! Sam, with a lot of Portective/guilty! Dean.

I wrote this with a certain small English seaside town in mind (Lyme Regis) and I'm not sure if America or any other countries have places like that.

I suggest you search it up, and also the harbour up, so that you have more of an idea of what was going through my mind when I was writing this. But if you prefer to create your own scenery, who am I to tell you what to do?

anyways, I hope you enjoy reading this extremely Hurt! Sam fanfic! The next chapter should be out ASAP.

-Lily

The minuscule waves lapped against the old port harbour and the sound of fishing boats could be heard if you listened hard enough. The sun shone brightly on the seaside town.

Tourists bustled about the place, enjoying the good weather while they could. The harbour twisted out from the coast, thin and dangerous, and Sam's favourite place to go.

The old cobble harbour had been built in the 1700's and was still going strong, however badly it was built. That's where he was now, siting on the edge of the cobb, feet dangling in the Luke warm water, and staring off into the distance as he sat in peaceful tranquility.

He had his 1990's old and worn publication of The Lord Of The Rings by his side, and his new Nokia 3210 phone. He checked it. 5 missed calls from 'Dean'. He ignored them.

Instead of thinking about his actual life, he stared into the mesmerising scene in front of him. The sun shone into the sea, making it look like glittery water. He picked up his dog eared copy of TLOTR and started to read.

He spent about an hour just sitting there reading until his phone started to ring again. He looked. It was Ethan. He cleared his throats before picking up.

"Sam! You weren't at home. Where are you?" His very familiar voice crackled through the phone.

"At the pier. You went to my house?" He heard Ethan make a noise that sounded like a confirmation.

"Crap. Who was there?" If it was Dean, fine. But if it was his dad then that would be a whole other story.

"It was just Dean, calm down. He told me he was pissed at you and he couldn't care less where you are, then started muttering stuff about how irresponsible you are. No offence, but I kinda agree with him."

Sam tried to stop any disappointment appear, but he couldn't help feeling upset at what Dean had said. It only lasted a couple of seconds though, because he couldn't just let his friends sly comment go over his head.

"Shut up." Sam said, but there was a smile in his voice.

"Whatever. It was your fault that the argument happened, not anyone else's."

"Yeah, yeah I know." Sam's voice was purposefully bored sounding, but with a hint of resignation.

"Just preaching the truth here." He tutted sarcastically. "Anyway, Meet you outside Costa in 10 minutes?"

"Yup."

Sam ended the call, and shoved his phone and book in his old rucksack, before slinging it over his shoulder. He wore a plain dark green jumper over a white shirt, along with black skinny jeans and leather black converse.

His hair, that he refused to cut (to much dismay from his father) flew every way which in the increasing winds. He started to walk back down the pier.

The sky that had been sunny ten minutes ago, was starting to cloud up with ominous grey clouds. It began to drizzle. He felt the small water droplets land on his head. He would have to start walking faster, or he would soon be enveloped by the storm.

He sped up as the rain started to get steadily heavier, his clothes and hair being drenched by the rain. He was walking considerably quickly as the rain started to pour heavily. He heard thunder rumble nearby. He started to run over the slippery cobble bricks.

And then time slowed down.

A flash of bright white light blinded him for a second and he felt a crack that was quite near him underfoot. He was on the upper layer of the pier, and the big crack in the stone jolted him. He stumbled, panic taking a hold of him. He screamed out for help as he lost his footing on the side of the pier. He started to fall.

"NOOO!" He screamed, his eyes full of panic and terror.

He collided with the waves, and was immediately pushed deep under. The current was strong. So strong that when he tried to swim up to the surface, he was only pushed further down. He began to scream, but it came out as bubbles leaving his mouth. His heavy clothes only weighed him down more.

This was it. This was it. This was it. He was going to die. He wanted to cry, and scream, and shout. He felt his chest start to hurt as his breaths became more limited.

CRASH

he felt utter desperation wash over him and he tried with everything he had to reach the surface, his face contorted in agony. With a final push, that came from his love for his brother and the thought of Dean losing him, he breached the freezing surface of the water.

The current was constantly trying to push him under. He looked around. The storm was still strong and only made his chances worse. He tried to keep above the massive waves that continued to crash into him. He turned around, looking for the shore. It was quite far away, too far away to swim easily.

BOOM

He crashed into a rock he hadn't seen seconds before, and the last thing he saw before he lost conscious was his startlingly pink blood leaking into the cruel sea.

Ethan frowned. He knew the storm had gotten pretty bad, but the place they had arranged to meet was under shelter. Also, Sam always came on time. It had been 20 minutes. People had quickly deserted the small high street (which held the small towns' only shops) as soon as the rain had started, and run home to their warm and cosy houses.

Only a few stayed. He could see a middle aged man walking his dog, seemingly uninconvenienced by the torrential downpour. Everyone else had taken refuge in the many charity shops, coffee shops and bookshops. The main road was on a slope, that led down to the sea and the many fish and chips shops.

The grey waters crashed brutally against the jagged rocks just off the coast of the bay. Mother Nature was a Bitch. He hopped from foot to foot, getting impatient. He checked his phone again. Nothing. He tried to keep his worry under control. It was probably nothing.

He would've seen the rain, and made a mad dash home, not thinking about Ethan. But he went to Sam's house anyway. Just to check he was there and all right.

He pulled out his umbrella and ran through the northern downpour, holding the umbrella tightly between his hands. He ran up the main road, through the back alley behind Walmart, and then past the old wooden mill, that had been made into a tourist attraction.

He ran past less than a dozen people, who all looked miserable. He finally got to Sam's house on the corner of Hill Rise Road. It was small and relatively old fashioned, but the inside had always seemed cosy to Ethan, on the rare occasions he actually went to Sam's house.

He ran into the small porch and knocked on the door, taking this time to get his breath back. The door was opened by Sam's brother, Dean, who held a confused look on his face.

He was standing in the hallway dressed in a faded AC/DC tee with skinny jeans and black lace up boots, holding a pot noodle (that's ramen in a cup to anyone who isn't British) and stuffing it into his face.

"Ethan, right? Sam's friend?" He questioned, his voice muffled by the food.

"Yeah, yeah. How are you Dean?"

Dean nodded in answer to his question and carried on shoving the hot noodles down his throat.

"Me and him were supposed to meet 30 minutes ago but he never turned up. I thought it might've been because of the rain and he'd come home. I just wanted to check he's here." He was shivering, expecting Dean to invite him in soon.

Deans face changed from confusion to worry. He gulped down the ramen he had in his mouth and cleared his throat.

"No, he's not home. I'm sure he's just stopped by a shop or something. It's fine." Ethan wasn't sure who he was trying to convince.

"Uh, come on in.." Dean said half heartedly, obviously thinking about other things.

Ethan stepped into the cosy house, slipping his shoes and coat off as he went in. They walked past the dining room and kitchen, into the living room. the fire, that was positioned so it was the main attraction in the room, crackled and provided warmth and heat.

The living room had cozy and old fashioned furniture, and it could've been mistaken as a room from the early 1900s, was it not for the small TV in the corner of the room. Dean sat down on the sofa, and Ethan plonked himself awkwardly on the edge of a chair.

Dean scrunched up his eyes and rubbed them with a tired hand. He looked worried, and exhausted.

"I'll call him."

"I've already called him-"

"Well I'll call him again!" Dean raised his voice slightly, causing Ethan to shrink into his seat.

"Sorry it's just..." Dean said, before shaking his head.

Dean grabbed the big house phone, and pressed Sam's number into it, pushing the buttons with more force than needed. He drummed his fingers impatiently on the vintage coffee table, hoping for his little brother to pick up and tell Dean off for worrying so much.

It went to voicemail. He threw the phone on the floor in frustration, making Ethan jump as it clattered noisily to the ground.

"Damn it!" He cursed, standing up and putting his head in his hands in frustration.

"Um...Sam called me from the pier." He said nervously. "We could go look down there... maybe?"

Dean started to breath heavily, his back towards Ethan, trying to regain his composure.

"Yep. Yeah, that's a good idea."

They went in Deans 1967 impala, that Ethan had crushed on since the first day he'd seen it. The rain continued to crash down on the impalas roof, and as they drove down to the pier, Ethan noted that the small seaside town was eerily empty.

Neither of them said anything to each other, they just drove in awkward silence. They both had a bad feeling about this. They parked in the small car park that was adjacent to the Cobb. The car park was, as predicted, deserted. They walked up to the dangerous and uneven Cobb.

Dean had never liked Sam spending a lot of his time here. It was built on a slant, and there were no railings or any type of walls to stop him from falling into the-.

They both froze as they speculated the scene in front of them, the rain washing over them, and the sounds of the crashing waves consecutive in the background.

There was a massive crack, from one edge of the walkway to the other, that led to a 10 foot drop into the perilous waves beneath them. There was a darkened circle around where the stone had started to crack. And over the edge of the Cobb, floating up against the walls of the pier, Sam's bag.

"Oh.." Dean was shaking so much that Ethan could feel the vibrations 3 steps away from him.

"Oh god.." Dean was pale and his face portrayed so much emotional distress that Ethan's chest began to hurt.

Dean felt his world collapsing around him. The walls were closing in, and there was no way to get out. He began to hyperventilate as the tears flowed freely, being disguised, as the rain mixed with their saltyness.

"No.." he stared into the sea, slowly sinking to his knees.

"No you can't..." he sobbed, his voice shaking as he grew more hysterical by the second.

"NOOOOOOO!" He screamed in pure agony, and it was the most angry, pain fuelled, loudest thing Ethan had heard in a while.

Ethan began to silently cry behind him, as they watched the cruel and capricious ocean slam against the shore line.

Ethan assumed he was dead.

At first Dean had thought the same thing, but he couldn't deal with that option and it's repercussions, so he told himself again and again that Sam was just missing.

The seagulls circled above the crumbling clay cliffs, their wings beating to the sound of the waves lapping against the shore line. The rain had disappeared, but it left behind the familiar scent of Petrichor. The damp and dewy green hills were deserted on the Saturday afternoon.

To get to the top of the hills, you had to climb up steep and rocky terrain for about ten minutes. The reward being the off chance that you would get too close to the edge of the cliff, slip off and descent to your demise on the clay rocks more than 100ft below.

The shore line was a reasonably large piece of land that stretched for a few miles either way. It wasn't your usual tourist attraction. It was more of a place to walk your dog, or look for fossils, hammers and leads in hand.

Except the boy who was lying utterly soaked on the shore line, waves lapping against his feet, didn't have a lead or hammer in hand. His face was planted against the sand, and around where his forehead was, there was a circle of blood coming from the massive cut above his right eye.

His left arm was twisted at an odd angle beneath him. The rest of his body was equally battered and bruised. There was sand everywhere on him. A dribble of sea water escaped his blue tinted lips. He was so pale, almost pure white, which made his blue veins really pop out, and made him look even more cadaverous against the tanned sandy beach.

The sky was blue again and the seas were calm. Nature had achieved her goal, and had gone back to being chaotically calm.