Author's Note: It's been a long time, hasn't it? My life has changed a lot from when I first started writing fanfiction many years ago. But I still do love writing and supporting fandom. So, of course, I couldn't miss out on this annual tradition. Welcome, everyone, to the 6th Annual 25 Days of Hurt!Sam! Can you believe it's been six years? Where does time go?

What is this, you ask? This is where I give back to all of you with stories filled with our beloved Sammy getting hurt in various fashions and of course, all that wonderful comfort that comes after. But perhaps the part that I love most, all of the stories will come from ideas from all of you, dear readers. That being said, there are a few ground rules:

Sam must be the one getting hurt in this story. Prompts must be centered around Sam.

This is a holiday collection, so prompts must be holiday themed! Pick any aspect of the holidays and build your prompt around that. I will not be writing any non-holiday prompts.

No M-rated prompts. Nothing with rape or child abuse or anything dark like that.

Prompts are fulfilled in the order that they are received. To submit a prompt, just leave it in a review.

And now, without further ado, let's get this show on the road! Set during season eight.

"Someday all our dreams will come to be

Someday in a world where men are free

Maybe not in time for you and me

But someday at Christmas time."

—Stevie Wonder, "Someday At Christmas"

Christmas when you're suffering from the effects of the Trials isn't exactly easy.

For one thing, Sam hasn't had his fever break in what feels like a small eternity. No, despite the copious amounts of ibuprofen he keeps swallowing, his temperature comfortably rests at 100. It's annoying, but he'd take that over the spikes to 105 that kept coming back with a vengeance. It seems like everything is such an ordeal now—his eyes can barely focus on the page of the book he's reading, the words all blurring and swirling around. Frustrated, Sam pushes the book aside.

It's almost bittersweet, really. This could be the last Christmas he will ever have. Dean, of course, would deny that—his older brother would only accept one outcome; that Sam would live, and the gates of Hell would be shut—but Sam can feel it, deep in his bones.

He's dying.

It makes sense, really. And in some way, it's almost poetic. The Boy King, the man who doomed the world—he can finally save it, once and for all. With the Gates of Hell closed, so many people would be safe from the demons that hunted them. Children wouldn't end up orphaned. Lovers wouldn't be able to make demon deals. If it comes down to it, what's one life against saving a plethora of them?

And it's not that Sam wants to die. Sure, there was a time when Sam had—dying had seemed to be the only way to escape the chaos that he wrought after Dean died—but somehow, they had saved the world. But, when Sam really thinks about it, he should've died years ago. If Dean hadn't made that deal, Sam would've been gone. Could the Trials be trying to set right what had been changed so long ago?

Soft, faint Christmas music filters in. Dean's gotten into the festive mood—his brother always had made Christmas a big deal when they'd been kids—and the bunker sparkles with old Christmas lights, twinkling from where Dean had taped them to the wall. They've never really had a home base before and Sam's not surprised that Dean's taking the opportunity to dive headfirst into decorating. Maybe, in another life, Dean could've gotten a house and been one of those passionate guys that synced his lights to music.

Maybe, in another life, Sam and Dean could've been—

"You good, Sammy?" Dean stands in the doorway, another box of lights in his hands.

"Fine." Sam lies, snapping out of his reverie. Dean's been watching him like a hawk recently, trying to sense any symptoms and prevent them from appearing, almost by sheer force of will.

But not even Dean can stop this. No one can. The only way out is through and Sam knows that he won't make it through. He'll die, and the gates will close. He'll die, and the world will be safe.

"Your fever spiking?" Dean tosses the box of lights aside and crosses the distance between them, resting a cool hand on Sam's forehead. His brow furrows and he sighs, "Shit, Sammy, you're burning up."

Sam lets out a sheepish laugh, "Seems to be a daily thing." He wants to keep things light hearted. He doesn't want to add to Dean's worries.

"When was the last time you ate?"

Sam sighs, "Dean—"

Dean narrows his gaze, "When, Sam?"

"Yesterday. Maybe?"

Dean shakes his head, "You gotta eat, Sam. Keep up your strength."

They've faced down death before. When Dean had been sent to Hell, Sam thought the grief would've swallowed him whole. At times, he wanted it to. Dean was the only person—the only constant—in his life and he'd do anything for his brother.

But Sam knows the playing field. He knows the forces they're up against. He's older now, more mature. If it means saving the world—saving Dean—then Sam is more than willing to die. Dean would never want to let him go, but over time, he would accept it.

"Hey," Dean's soft voice causes Sam's eyes to dart to his brother's face, "What's going on in that big brain of yours?"

It's Christmastime—a time to spend with your loved ones, cherishing the memories of days gone by and days yet to come. Sam's never needed gifts or a tree though to feel festive. Even now, facing death once more, Sam is content to celebrate his last Christmas by his brother's side.

"Nothing, Dean."

Dean rolls his eyes, "Well, come on, let's get some food in you. Want soup?"

"Sure."

"You sure you're good?"

Sam chuckles, "Fine, Dean."

Dean accepts that and steps out of the study, calling, "Come on then."

Sam takes one more look at the study, at the twinkling lights. Maybe, they could pull off a Christmas miracle. Perhaps they could somehow both come through it together. It's a magical season, after all.

But if not—if this really is his last Christmas—then spending it with Dean is the only present he needs.

Author's Note: This was more angst than hurt, but I enjoyed writing it. It's been awhile so I apologize if I'm a bit rusty. I look forward to seeing your prompts! Thanks for reading!