Author's Note: Well, this is it. This is the very last chapter of the "3rd Annual 25 Days of Hurt!Sam" and I'll admit, I'm sad to see it end. Granted, sometimes writing everyday for this collection was tiring, but all the prompts were so interesting! Really, they pushed into writing stories I would've never done on my own.

I would like to take a moment to thank all of you for your kind reviews! To those of you reviewed chapter after chapter, thank you! To all those who favorite it/followed it, thank you for your support! Seriously, without all of you cheering me on, there's no way I would've been able to finish this in a timely manner.

So, what comes next? Well, I have a lot of stories in-progress (hurt!Sam ones, naturally) so I will be heading back to work on those. Next year in November, prompts will open for the 4th edition of this collection. I hope you all with continue with me on this journey to hurt!Sam feels, but if not, thank you all for your continued support!

And without further ado, the last chapter. This is set post "LARP and the Real Girl". Please enjoy!

"Listen to the mustn'ts, child. Listen to the don'ts. Listen to the shouldn'ts, the impossibles, the won'ts. Listen to the never haves, then listen close to me—anything can happen, child. Anything can be."

―Shel Silverstein

"So, you'll come, won't you?"

Sam may own the title for best puppy dog eyes, but Charlie is giving him a run for his money. In fact, if he's not mistaken, the redhead has even managed to get some tears welling up in her eyes, a skill that Sam hasn't quite gotten down yet. It's an impressive display from the girl who had somehow become their surrogate sister and Sam can't help but admire her for it.

"A winter ball?" Dean repeats, drawing out the syllables, his brow wrinkling somewhat in disgust. "With dancing?"

"And food!" Charlie interjects quickly. "Lots of food! Like burgers and fries and just general greasy things you like."

Dean narrows his gaze, "Why do I get the feeling that you're just saying that—?"

Charlie reaches across the bunker's table to grab Dean's hands within her own. Her voice rises, "Please, please, say you'll come!" She glances at the youngest Winchester who smirks.

"I think it would be fun, Dean." He tells his older brother.

"Of course you do," Dean retorts, "You just wanna play dress up."

"No, that's what you want to do." Sam replies calmly.

Dean glares.

"So," Charlie's gaze nervously darts between them. "You'll come?"

It takes Dean a small eternity to reply, "Yeah, sure."

Charlie screams in joy and quickly rises from her chair to rush to Dean and throw her arms around the eldest Winchester. Then, almost in a flash, she does the same to Sam and the youngest Winchester can't help but laugh.

"So, a winter ball?" Sam starts when Charlie is seated again.

"It'll be great!" Charlie exclaims, beaming.

"Should we get dressed up?" Dean finally asks and Charlie grins widely, like the cat that caught the canary.

"Oh, don't worry," She assures them. "I have the perfect costumes for both of you."

"You knew we'd say yes." Sam deduces.

Charlie winks as she gets up from the chair, her keys dangling from her fingers, "C'mon Sam, you two couldn't tell me no even if you wanted to." She means it as a joke, but it's true. She's part of their family and there's nothing they wouldn't do for family.

"No." Dean meets her gaze.

"Oh shut up," She punches him lightly in the shoulder. "It's too late already. Now, just stay put."

With that, she quickly scurries out of the room and Sam glances at his brother.

Dean just shrugs, "Better than staying home, right?"

Sam smiles, "Yeah."

"Then, we'll go."

"Sounds good."

And that's that really.

Charlie gets them knight costumes, similar to what Dean wore the last they went LARP-ing with her, only this time the material is much softer to the touch and of higher quality. Dean's outfit is navy with white accents and it fits him well, leaving Sam to wonder just how Charlie got his measurements.

Sam's fits him like a glove and is a dark hunter green with brown accents. As he glances at himself in the mirror, he can't really believe their doing this. During December, they usually tried to immerse themselves in hunting. Christmastime brought up old, painful memories of their lives before all the trauma and tragedy that had engulfed them and so, hunting served as an escape.

"You look great, Samantha." Dean calls from across the room and Sam sighs as he faces his older brother.

"Yeah, I saw you checking yourself out too, Mr. Knight."

"Oh, come on," His older brother scoffs, "Look, Charlie just wanted to make us knights."

"After you asked her to," Sam points out with a smirk. "I saw your texts. You were sick of being called her handmaiden."

"Shut up, Sam."

Sam chuckles.

"Now, c'mon, we're late enough as it is." Dean reaches for the car keys. "I mean, I don't think she could actually execute us, but you never know."

"Right," Sam pictures himself being sentenced to the stocks and quickly follows his brother towards to the door. "Best not to keep her Majesty waiting."

Dean just laughs.

The first sign that something is wrong is the fact that despite all the cars parked in the parking lot, there's no one visible as they walk towards where the LARPers have set up the festivities for the night. Music is blaring but there's no laughter on the wind, no sign that anyone is even here.

"Is it over?" Sam questions, but unease settles within him as they move closer and closer to where the giant tent is.

"It shouldn't be." Dean replies, voice tense.

"Something's wrong." Sam concludes softly, wishing it wasn't true.

"I know." Dean answers. "Let's find Charlie."

That doesn't take long.

They find Charlie in a pool of blood, slumped over in her throne.

For a second, Sam can't process it. He pictures her as she was just a few days ago in their bunker, smiling, laughing and teasing them. The denial takes root in him, freezes him in his tracks. This can't be happening, his mind thinks, this is supposed to be a party.

"Charlie!" It's Dean's anguished cry that breaks him out of his trance and together, the two run over to her, gently pulling her out of the throne. There's blood staining her cream gown crimson and the flowers in her hair are askew. She has defensive marks on her wrist and multiple stab wounds.

"Charlie, c'mon." Sam tries to figure out where the bleeding is coming from, but it's too much. He can't pinpoint the source and as such, he doesn't know how to effectively treat it. "Dean, we need to get her to a hospital."

"Not enough time if we don't get her stabilized." Dean tells him, taking off the outer layer of his shirt and beginning to rip it into patches. "We need to stop the bleeding."

"I'm afraid that won't be necessary."

A woman with flowing red locks and Charlie's bloodstained crown upon her head steps towards them. Her flowing green gown is something out of the middle ages and her ruby red lips smile sinisterly.

"Surely," She begins darkly, "You've heard of a coup d'état?"

Sam puts himself in front of Charlie's limp form and he can feel Dean at his back, ready to back him up should a fight begin.

"And you are?" Sam asks sharply.

The woman laughs, "You may address me as Her Royal Majesty, Queen Marian."

"And what are you Marian?" Dean retorts. "Not human."

"Obviously," Marian replies, "But then again I'd expect no less from the famed Winchesters." She sees Charlie's limp form and glares. "But this actually has nothing to do with you two. I wanted the Kingdom so I took it, plain and simple."

"It's not even real!" Dean growls and Marian chuckles darkly.

"Oh, but it's real enough," She snaps her fingers and suddenly, everyone missing from the party starts to appear, all dressed perfectly in period clothing. Knights with suits of armor, ladies with flowing dresses, even monks—they all begin to mill about the park. "See boys, I'm going to be Queen. I will finally be what I've wished for."

"Witch." Dean hisses.

"You say that like it's a bad thing." She winks. With a flick of her wrist, Charlie is floating towards her and with the push of her hand, Sam finds himself being magically pushed until his back hits a cement wall. "Don't worry about Charlie here. I'll take good care of her."

"Wait!" Sam shouts, but it's too late.

Marion and Charlie vanish in a cloud of smoke and Sam finds himself chained to the wall. A prison cell is soon, magically, constructed and as Sam struggles against his bonds, he meets his brother's panicked gaze.

"We need to get out of here," Dean tells him, "Charlie doesn't have much time."

"That witch has completely lost it," Sam muses, "She's built a whole functioning feudal system. I mean, I bet there's a castle out there and serfs and—"

"Focus, Sam!" Dean interjects sharply.

"I've got a lock pick."

"Good. Can you get out?"

"Give me a second."

It takes some careful maneuvering on his part, but soon one of his wrists is free and that's all he needs to get out of the chains. Moving to his brother, he quickly releases him as well.

"We need a plan."

"Storm the castle." Dean suggests.

"We need weapons."

"Find a blacksmith." Sam's eyes widen and Dean tacks on, "I do know some things, Sam."

"I wasn't saying you didn't. I'm just surprised. Medieval history doesn't seem like your thing."

Dean doesn't say anything.

"We need to get to Charlie."

Sam nods his head. That's all that matters right now. Charlie is slowly bleeding out and if the witch's mental state is any indication, she'd probably be brought back from the brink only to be tortured over and over again.

They have to save her.

"Okay then, weapons and then we storm the castle."

Sam doesn't miss the slightly excited sparkle that enters into his brother's eyes.

"Charlie's going to hate the part where she was a damsel in distress."

"That's what she gets for dragging us to a winter ball."

"Fair enough."

And with that, they sneak out past the guards and head towards the magical replication of a typical medieval town.

Storming the castle is easier than they had thought it would be.

The guards outside may be dressed as knights, but they're still hapless LARPers when it comes to their skill set, so he and Dean are easily able to knock them unconscious. Armed with swords of their own, they sneak down the long, twisting corridors until they emerge in the throne room.

"So, you came." Marian sits on the golden throne, her crown glistening with jewels. As she stands up, Sam and Dean raise their swords and she smirks, "Cute."

"Stop this!" Dean commands, but it's fallen on deaf ears.

"You dare to order a queen!" She raises her voice, shouting loud enough so that it echoes in the chamber. "Guards!"

More knights appear and Sam thanks his father for actually making him learn how to wield a sword. At the time, the youngest Winchester had viewed it as a waste of time, but now, as he parries the knight's attacks and follows up with his own, he's grateful that he has these skills to fall back upon.

"Sam!" Dean shouts, creating an opening in the attacks for him to get a clear shot to take on Marian.

"Right!"

He rushes towards the throne and without any hesitation, thrusts the sword into her stomach.

She gasps as she staggers back, clearly having not expected this. Blood dribbles down her lips and she looks up at Sam with a mixture of helplessness and anger.

"You . . . jerk." She huffs out and then before Sam can process what's going on, she's gripping his wrist and it feels like her skin is on fire, scalding him.

It's a death spell, he realizes a second too late—the witch using the last of her abilities and life force to channel a stronger than usual spell. As her lifeless eyes finally fall shut and her grip is released, Sam can already feel the spell taking root within him.

He begins to cough, the air around him suddenly thick and syrupy. He tries to keep himself upright, but his knees buckles and suddenly, his brother is there, holding him upright.

"Sammy!" Dean roars, trying to find the source of the problem, but there isn't one and the witch is dead so the spell has to run its course. "Sam, stay with me!"

Sam wants to say something comforting. He wants to ask about Charlie. He wants to apologize to his brother for all the little mistakes that led up to the Stanford debacle and maybe, if he can find the right words, convey just how much he loves Dean.

Because they never say that enough.

They are never ones to express how they feel in words. Actions speak louder sure, but sometimes, it's nice to hear how someone feels. Especially from Dean, who's always been more guarded with his emotions and rarely speaks from his heart for fear of it being "too girly".

"Sammy, don't close your eyes!"

Dean's scared; Sam can see that in his red-rimmed eyes. So, he reaches out and enlaces his fingers with his brother's hand.

"S'kay, D'n."

It's not though.

But he doesn't have the energy to stick around so he just lets go.

Darkness.

The first thing he registers as he returns back to consciousness is the sound of steady beeping.

"Sammy?" Dean's voice is rough and dry, almost as if he'd been screaming for hours. "You with me?"

Pain dimly echoes in every part of his body, but Sam forces himself to open his eyes.

"D'n?" His throat is parched and it feels like his tongue is two sizes too big for his mouth.

"Here." Dean carefully helps him drink from a cup and Sam savors the cool liquid as it runs through him. "Anything hurt?"

"Not really." He's probably medicated up to his gills and while it's annoying to have that foggy feeling, he can't help but be glad he doesn't feel anything too severe, unlike Charlie—

Oh, God, Charlie!

He forgot about her.

"It's okay," Dean says as if he can read his little brother's mind, which may be a super power of his over the years. "Charlie's not in the ICU anymore. They moved her a few days ago. She's okay, Sam."

"Good." Sam lets his head roll to the side, exhausted from the effort. "Witch?"

"Dead as a doornail," Dean reports dutifully, "Though she gave you one heck of a curse." Then with a small grin adds, "But it's passed. Your fever broke a few hours ago and you've been doing great. The doctors can't explain your miraculous recovery."

Sam chuckles dryly.

"You scared me." Dean admits softly.

Sam places his palm upwards on the bed and instantly, Dean's hand holds it.

"M'okay."

"Yeah, Sam, you are."

Together, they sit in the silence, savoring each other's company. There will be trials in the future for sure, but as long as they're together, they can handle anything.

Together, they're unstoppable.

Author's Note: And that's a wrap! I hope you guys enjoyed it as much as I loved writing it. Please review if you have a chance! Thanks!