Author's Note: Well, hello there! It's been an extremely long time since I've updated this story. Needless to say, it's that time of year when real life becomes insane and I hadn't found very much time to write. Good news though, I will have plenty of time starting now! Please expect more frequent updates. Also, I was thinking about modifying this story a bit. I had originally intended for this story to start in May and end in early June; however, I thought maybe I should re-open requests and have this go until August. If I did this, updates would be like every other day instead of every day. The title would then become the "Summer of Hurt Sam" instead of the one it has now. I'm deciding this via a poll on my profile. Please go vote because I would love your feedback!

And now, on to today's wonderful prompt! This comes from Leahelisabeth who asked for, "As for me, I have this extremely sadistic love of stuffing Sam in boxes for Dean to find so I would like to request a baddie stuffing Sam in a very small box and leaving him in the middle of a desert. I would love some claustrophobic, overheated, dehydrated Sam who is very confused about what is going on. When Dean finally finds him, he is in pain from being all curled up and hallucinating from sunstroke and that makes him VERY clingy." Clingy Sam coming right up! Thank you for this prompt! It's really fun!

This is set in season 3. Please enjoy!

"When you can't make them see the light, make them feel the heat."

—Ronald Reagan

"You are our King," The woman told him quietly, a hopeful grin on her lips. Her golden hair had been pulled up into a bun, though some curly strands of it hung down and kissed her ivory skin. Her jean shorts displayed her long legs to perfection and her purple tank top revealed more than might have been intended. Yet, it was her eyes that Sam could not look away from as she advanced towards him for they were as black as the darkest abyss and held nothing but coldness in them. "You must accept your place."

"I want nothing to do with you or your kind," Sam spat, struggling against the spell that the pet witch of demon had cast earlier. That girl had gotten scared and ran out, leaving one pissed off Winchester facing a very worshipful demon. "I'm not your king."

"You are though," Her voice held so much joy and happiness within it. "Azazel chose you; you were the last one standing." She curtsied deeply, her gaze downcast. "You are our king."

"Never." Sam protested. How had such a simple evening gone wrong? Dean had gone out for a few beers and the youngest Winchester had decided to stay in to do some more research on breaking Dean's deal. They were approaching Vegas week, something that his older brother had demanded would have no research in it. They were close to the strip—only a few towns before it—so the youngest Winchester had been stepping up his work. He had been looking over an ancient text and the next thing he knew, he was surrounded by the demon and her pet witch and was being held in some other motel room.

Dean would be pissed.

Ever since Bela shot him, his older brother had gotten a bit more protective over him than usual. Yeah, Sam could understand why, but with Dean's life hanging in the balance, the youngest Winchester couldn't really find the will in himself to care. After all, if he died, Dean would be out of the deal—

Not that he wanted to die, of course, but the thought had occurred to him. He had to hold out hope though that they would find something else. He didn't want to leave Dean's side. They were brothers again and the demon that had ruined their life was dead. He wanted to enjoy life and if he could get rid of the deal, they would be able to do just that.

As soon as he managed to get out of here.

"Why would you deny who you are?" She lifted her head up and looked at him, clearly flummoxed. "As our king, you could command legions of demons."

"I don't want—"

"You could save your brother's soul." Judging by the sinister smile that appeared on her lips, Sam knew that she had hit her mark. He struggled against his invisible bonds to no avail.

"How do you—?"

"Everyone knows," She dismissed with a wave of her hand. "As king, you could change everything. Your brother could live."

The thought washed over him and despite how right this demon was—as king, he could save Dean—he rejected it. For one thing, he wouldn't be human anymore and for a second thing, his older brother would never forgive him. Becoming one of the things that they hunted . . . it would kill Dean.

No, there had to be another way.

"No."

A pause as the demon went from pleased to confused to angry.

"Fine," She spat. "Then, you shall die."

With a snap of her fingers, everything went black.

"What the hell, Sam?" Dean growled as he paced their now empty room, looking for something that could explain why his geeky, younger brother—who had sworn he wasn't leaving said room—had somehow seemingly vanished. Running a hand through his hair, the eldest Winchester tried to gather his thoughts and calm his mind. The incident with Bela had put him slightly on edge—he had almost stayed in with Sam tonight just because he had a hard time letting the kid out of his sight—and now Sam had pulled a disappearing act.

Fan-fucking-tastic.

"Looking for someone?" A cool voice asked him and immediately, he pulled his gun out and aimed it at the chest of the intruder. It was only then that he noticed the salt line had been broken and their protection wards had somehow disappeared.

"What the hell did you do with my brother?" Because he had no doubt that whomever this was had done something with his brother. The woman stepped from the shadows and with one hand, removed her bun. Her sunshine-like hair tumbled down her back and if she weren't evil and he had seen her in a bar, Dean would've hit on her.

"Why does he protect you so?" The woman mused, her expression slightly distressed. "I offered him everything—the kingdom, the legions of faithful servants—and yet he rejects his destiny." Her gaze narrowed. "For you. He gave it all up for you."

"Where is my brother?" He couldn't focus on what she was saying, not now. He knew demons wanted Sam, but he had never thought they would hunt them down and break past their security measures.

"All he wanted was to get you out of your deal," She smirked slightly. "Well, I guess him dying would do that, won't it?"

No.

Visions of a bloody and broken Sam falling into his arms, fading away as Dean desperately tried to make things right, to save Sam because that's my job right, take care of my pain in the ass little brother?

No!

He blinked and forced himself out of the awful vision. Sam was alive and he would be okay, as soon as Dean found him. It would be okay. Everything was going to be okay.

"Where is he?" The eldest Winchester growled, summoning up the fury of John Winchester in his voice. He was done playing games—he wanted his brother and he wanted him now. He readied his gun, not caring if he killed the human that the demon was possessing. For Sam, there was no price too steep.

"If I take you to him, will you still kill me?" She asked him, almost shyly.

"What?" Because out of all the possible responses that had passed through his mind, this was not one of them.

"I'm tired of this," She explained, sounding surprisingly sincere. "If Sam will not be our king, then there is no point to this anymore." She held his gaze. "So, I ask you again, if I take you to him, will you kill me?"

"Yes."

She smiled softly and snapped her fingers.

It was too small.

And hot.

Too hot.

He had forgotten what coolness felt like. He had forgotten what it felt like to be able to breathe without walls pushing down on him.

Guess you couldn't save me after all, could you, Sammy?

"M'sorry, D'n." His tongue was heavy and the world was spinning. Dean said things occasionally but whenever he tried to reach out to him, his older brother vanished. He couldn't move really and he wondered if this was how it would end for him.

The heat was too intense.

He was thirsty.

His lungs could no longer expand like they used to.

He was dying.

Always knew you were a quitter, Sammy. You never wanted this life, did you?

"D'n." His vision was spinning and darkening around the edges.

The last clear thought before he succumbed to it was that Dean was never going to let him out of his sight if he somehow survived this.

Bang.

The Colt did its work as promised and the demon fell to the ground with a muted thud. The sand seemed to embrace her, but Dean spared only a glance at her. No, his gaze was focused on the extremely small, metal box that held his brother.

"Sammy!" He scrambled towards the box, cursing at the metal burned his hand. If it was this hot on the outside, Sam would—

No, he couldn't think about that.

Whatever it was, Dean could handle it.

"Sammy, just hold on, okay?" He managed to pry the lid off and cursed at the sight of his little brother, who had somehow been stuffed into this much too small box. Sweat shone his forehead, his hair sticking to his skin. He pulled his brother out and gently laid him down on the sand. It wasn't the ideal situation, but he had to get a grasp on how bad his little brother was. "Sam? Hey, can you hear me?"

There was nothing.

"Sam!" He placed two fingers to his neck and breathed a sigh of relief as the pulse registered. It was too fast, but hey, he would take it. They had to get out of this heat before Sam's brain fried. "Alright, I've got you, hold on." Somehow, he managed to get them upright and he half-carried, half-dragged his little brother to the Impala. Cranking up the air, he grabbed the ice cold bottle of water he had grabbed from the motel and with a quick apology, began to splash the water on Sam's face.

Two murky hazel eyes met his gaze.

"Hey, you with me?" He beamed down at his little brother, beyond relieved.

"S'funny," Sam slurred, voice thick with exhaustion. "D'n, you were . . ." His brother chuckled.

"Yeah, okay," He replied in a placating tone. "Can you drink some of this for me?" Sam took the water bottle, but his hand shook and some of the precious liquid spilled onto the seat instead.

"D'n?"

"What?" The older brother had the water bottle now and he managed to help his sibling drink a few sips.

"D'n?" Sam mumbled, coughing as he wiped his chapped lips.

"What, Sammy?"

"M'not really your brother." Dean's eyes widened for a fraction of a second, but he waved it off and attributed it to the heat.

"You're right," Dean conceded. "I'm better looking."

"No," Sam protested. "M'blood . . . it's bad, Dean. M'one of them." A bit perplexed, the eldest Winchester glanced over his brother, wondering what the hell he was talking about.

"Sam—"

And then he was cut off as a very hot little brother sluggishly wrapped his long arms around him.

"M'sorry, D'n," His little brother whispered, holding tightly onto Dean. "M'not good. M'bad. Dad was right. Kill me, D'n. Please—"

If you can't save your brother, you have to kill him.

Sam's lifeless eyes staring up at him as they moved him from the ground in Cold Oak to the Impala. His cold hand limply being held within Dean's own. The tears he shed as he realized that he had failed and Sam had gone someplace that he could not follow.

"Sam, what the fuck are you talking about?" Dean snapped as fear turned into fury and he pushed his brother back. Hazel eyes blinked at him and filled with confusion.

"D'n?"

"Sam, what were you saying?" His little brother chose to list to the side instead and instantly, Dean was there, supporting him as he came to rest in the seat. "Sammy, you good?"

"Missed you, D'n," Sam whispered contentedly. "Don't go 'way, kay?"

"I'm not going anywhere Sam."

And seemingly content, his little brother closed his eyes.

The world he came back to was deliciously cool.

The Dean he came back to was full of relief and seemed to be functioning by sheer determination alone.

"It was close for a bit," His older brother explained, coaxing some water down Sam's throat. "But you'll be okay."

"M'fine," Sam insisted, patting his brother's hand. "Get some sleep." Dean nodded, but didn't move. Sam sighed. "What?"

"Nothing."

"What is it, Dean?"

"Do you . . ." His brother hesitated, and instantly Sam was more alert. Something was clearly worrying Dean. "Do you remember anything you said when I found you?"

"No." It was true—it was all a blur of images and jumbled words. "Why? Should I?"

"No," His brother replied with a tight grin. "It was just the heat." Then, he rose from his position by the bed and turned off the light. "Get some rest, Sammy."

His eyes stayed open long after his brother's breathing evened out.

One day, you will have to face what you are. Your blood is not human and you know it. Your father knew it too. If you will not be our king and accept it, then you deserve death.

She had stuffed him in a box and left him to bake.

The worst part about it was that she had been right.

He had known about the demon blood for almost a year now. He hadn't said anything to Dean because he had been a coward and he had been scared of what his brother would say if he found out.

"Move over."

"Dean, what—?" His brother unceremoniously shoved Sam to the side and climbed into the bed.

"Just shut up and go to sleep. You think way too loud."

Sam just smiled.

And for the first time in a long time, he dreamt not of Hellhounds and fire, but of the rumble of the Impala and Dean's laughter.

They would get through this.

Author's Note: There we go! I really liked how this chapter came out and I hope you did too. Please review if you have a second and please vote in that poll. Thanks!