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Summary: Sam looks after Y/N when a rough hunt brings on a seizure.
Word count: 1.7k
Warnings: reader has chronic seizures, reference to unspecified trauma, hurt/comfort fin
A/N: back to writing after a long while!
Sam knows her too well.
He watches her face as they walk back to the car - eyes blinking more frequently than usual, a bit cloudier than they should be. She drags her feet along the grass like they weigh more than her legs.
When Dean gets in the driver’s seat, Sam opens the passenger side door for Y/N. “You take shotgun,” he tells her, gentle smile on his lips. She insists she’s fine but he shakes his head, squeezes her arm. “Know you’re gonna get car sick. Won’t be as bad in the front.”
Y/N just gets in because he’s right. It’s always the headache first, then the motion sickness.
They drive back to the motel in silence. Sam watches her carefully in the mirror. Dean slowly turns up the radio and the local station plays quietly. When the signal weakens after about forty minutes and the music is replaced by static, he switches over. When Y/N begins to screw her eyes up at the beams from oncoming cars, he knocks the visor down for her.
They stop at the same tiny motel they left that morning, about an hour and half out. Dean turns the key in the ignition and the soft rumble of the Impala cuts to silence. No one moves for a moment, not quite ready to peel their dirty, heavy bodies from the seats and draw straws on tonight’s shower rotation.
“Know that one was tough for you,” Dean mumbles after a moment. “You did good,” he tells her. “Promise.”
The case they just closed hit a bit too close to home for Y/N - a group of girls in the same kind of trouble that she took a long time to dig herself out of when she was young and a nest of vamps taking advantage of easy prey. The whole thing knocked her sick.
She doesn’t meet his eyes, just nods.
Dean watches her for a little longer before he catches Sam’s eye in the mirror, “You guys go ahead, I’m gonna drive around for a little while.”
Sam nods and gives Y/N a hand out of the car.
“Call if you need me to come back,” Dean tells them.
Y/N sits on the end of the bed as Sam turns the lamp on and begins to sort out their things. He stuffs their bags in the bottom of the tiny wardrobe, shoots a message to Bobby to let him know that they’ve closed the case but they’re not going to make it back tonight, they’ll set off early in the morning. Then he messages Dean and asks him to find a burger place.
When he’s done, he takes another look at Y/N. Her head hangs from her shoulders like it weighs a ton, eyes staring unfocused in the vague direction of the carpet. He moves towards her carefully, kneeling between her legs.
“Y/N,” he murmurs, searching for her gaze as he braces his hands on her knees. “Hey, what do you need?”
She stares at him blankly for a moment before she shakes her head, gaze falling back to the floor, “Nothing.”
“Water?”
“No, thanks.”
Sam sighs, leans back on his knees. He doesn’t want to overwhelm her when she’s like this. He watches her carefully. “Sweetheart,” he tries, “I know how difficult that case was for you.”
“You have no idea,” Y/N mumbles. She looks at him now, eyes all bloodshot and head shaking rapidly. “You don’t,” she insists, louder now. “You can’t even begin to understand because it hasn’t happened to you.”
“I know,” he whispers. He can see her eyes getting watery and her jaw getting tighter and tighter and he hates it. “I know, honey. I’m just saying that I’m here. I’m here for you, whatever you need. Just please don’t shut me out-”
“I’m not shutting you out-”
“-because I can’t help you when you do that and I need to make sure you’re okay. Okay?” Y/N just stares at him. He reaches a hand up into the hair at the back of her head gently. “Know you’re close to having a seizure, sweetheart. Let me look after you. What do you need?”
Y/N stares at him with teary eyes. She knows that stress is bad for her seizures - she hasn’t forgotten. The boys have always been better than her at being on alert for them, especially Sam. He’s always monitoring them. Eventually she just sniffs, shakes her head, “I need a shower.”
Sam sighs, “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
“My clothes need throwing out, Sam, and I need to get this dirt out of my hair.”
“I just- I don’t want you to go while you’re-”
“I’m not gonna go, Sam. I need a shower.”
Sam lets go of her and leans back a little in an attempt to give her the space she needs. “Okay,” he says quietly. He clears his throat, nods. “I’m gonna sit on the toilet just in case. That okay?”
Y/N thinks about it for a moment before she nods. Sam stands, offers her a hand which she takes if only for his sake. He hurries past her to the tiny motel bathroom and flicks the light on. The fan fires up its incessant whir as he pulls back the shower curtain and drags the mat over to the base of the tub with his foot.
When he turns around to offer her some help undressing, Y/N is in the doorway. She clings onto the doorframe for dear life. Sam freezes.
“Baby?” he checks, rushing to her. He supports her with his hands on her waist, “What is it?”
Y/N spiraling. Her eyes are wide, tears streaming down her cheeks and she gulping down air in big gasps. She looks frantic.
“Hey, hey, what is it?” he pleads, holding her tighter. “Talk to me, honey. What’s wrong?”
“I’m gonna go,” she gasps, shaking her head rapidly. “You’re right, I’m gonna go. I’m sorry.”
“Okay,” he breathes, somewhat calming now that he knows it’s something he can tackle. “It’s okay, that’s fine.” He loops his arm around her now for support. “Let’s sit down, yeah?”
Y/N’s gasps continue as she lets him lead her down onto the bathroom floor. “I’m sorry, Sammy,” she cries, clinging to him. “I’m gonna go, I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” he promises. “I’m here. I’ve got you.” He pulls her with him away from the doorway, props himself up against the side of the tub and tucks her under his arm. “I’ve got you, baby.”
“I’m sorry, S’mmy, so, so sorry,” she slurs, words all mangling together like goo.
“Shh, it’s okay,” he hushes her. “Not mad, promise. You’re okay.” He brushes a kiss against her matted hair. “I got you.”
“Should’a listened-”
“Shh, it’s okay. I’ve got you.”
Y/N’s body goes rigid for a moment before the seizure takes hold, torso jerking against Sam’s hold. He lowers her as gently as he can onto her side, folding the poor excuse for a bath mat with one hand and pushing it under her head. He checks his watch for the time and lets out a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding onto, guiding her hair out of her face.
“You’re okay, honey,’ he whispers.
Y/N’s never been very good at asking for help when she needs it. She’s always been fairly talented at normalising her seizures, ignoring them where possible. She has a lot of trouble admitting when she can feel them coming on. Sam’s never mistaken it for not caring, though. He knows they scare her, make her vulnerable in a way she would do anything to avoid.
He’s been monitoring her all day, knowing that the stress of the case was likely to bring this on. It was only a matter of time before it happened.
Y/N’s body stills and Sam takes a look at her flushed face. She’s dribbled slightly down her chin and he pulls his sleeve down to catch it. He shifts slightly so he can lay her more comfortably on her back. He rests a gentle hand on her head, thumb stroking her hair. He checks his watch again. Two minutes - absolutely fine.
Sam can see her eyes moving beneath her lids. “Y/N,” he calls quietly, “You’re okay.” As she opens her eyes, they begin to wander around the space, unfocused. Sam leans over into her line of vision. “Hey, you’re okay. I’ve got you.”
He can tell she’s still trying to get a grip on what’s happening, her eyes floating around his face like she’s trying to figure him out. He keeps his thumb rubbing gentle lines on her head to try and ground her.
“You had a seizure,” he explains, “But you’re okay. I’m right here.”
Y/N blinks a few times. She grinds her jaw once, twice. Sam can see her tongue wriggling around in her mouth.
“Think you bit your tongue, honey, but that’s okay.” He offers a gentle smile, “You’re okay.”
Y/N stares at him for a little while before she grunts out his name, voice hoarse.
Sam nods, “It’s me. I got you.” She tries to tilt her head to the side, eyes searching. Sam lifts his hand. “Careful,” he urges. “We’re at the motel, just in the bathroom. Dean’s out, it’s just me and you.” She catches his eye again and he smiles, “You’re okay.”
“Sammy,” she says again, gazing up at him with foggy eyes.
“Yeah, honey?”
“I’m sorry.”
Sam smiles sadly at her. Her memory’s obviously started to piece itself back together again. “It’s okay,” he promises, his hand finding its spot on the top of her head again. “Don’t need to be sorry. It’s all good, sweetheart.”
Y/N tries to clear her throat, shifting her weight slightly on the floor.
“You okay?”
“Hungry,” she murmurs.
“That’s okay. Dean won’t be long, he’s gonna get some dinner.” She nods. “Do you wanna sit up?”
“Yeah.”
Sam helps guide her up and she settles in a spot between his long legs, leaning her weight against him. “There we go,” he sighs. He wraps an arm around her waist, tangling the other one up in her hair and holding her against him. “Can stand up when you’re ready,” he tells her. “Just let me know.”
Y/N just pushes herself even closer to him. “Love you,” she whispers.
“Love you too, sweetheart.” Sam kisses her head before he rests his cheek there. “I got you.”
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Summary: Sam looks after Y/N when a rough hunt brings on a seizure.
Word count: 1.7k
Warnings: reader has chronic seizures, reference to unspecified trauma, hurt/comfort fin
A/N: back to writing after a long while!
Sam knows her too well.
He watches her face as they walk back to the car - eyes blinking more frequently than usual, a bit cloudier than they should be. She drags her feet along the grass like they weigh more than her legs.
When Dean gets in the driver’s seat, Sam opens the passenger side door for Y/N. “You take shotgun,” he tells her, gentle smile on his lips. She insists she’s fine but he shakes his head, squeezes her arm. “Know you’re gonna get car sick. Won’t be as bad in the front.”
Y/N just gets in because he’s right. It’s always the headache first, then the motion sickness.
They drive back to the motel in silence. Sam watches her carefully in the mirror. Dean slowly turns up the radio and the local station plays quietly. When the signal weakens after about forty minutes and the music is replaced by static, he switches over. When Y/N begins to screw her eyes up at the beams from oncoming cars, he knocks the visor down for her.
They stop at the same tiny motel they left that morning, about an hour and half out. Dean turns the key in the ignition and the soft rumble of the Impala cuts to silence. No one moves for a moment, not quite ready to peel their dirty, heavy bodies from the seats and draw straws on tonight’s shower rotation.
“Know that one was tough for you,” Dean mumbles after a moment. “You did good,” he tells her. “Promise.”
The case they just closed hit a bit too close to home for Y/N - a group of girls in the same kind of trouble that she took a long time to dig herself out of when she was young and a nest of vamps taking advantage of easy prey. The whole thing knocked her sick.
She doesn’t meet his eyes, just nods.
Dean watches her for a little longer before he catches Sam’s eye in the mirror, “You guys go ahead, I’m gonna drive around for a little while.”
Sam nods and gives Y/N a hand out of the car.
“Call if you need me to come back,” Dean tells them.
Y/N sits on the end of the bed as Sam turns the lamp on and begins to sort out their things. He stuffs their bags in the bottom of the tiny wardrobe, shoots a message to Bobby to let him know that they’ve closed the case but they’re not going to make it back tonight, they’ll set off early in the morning. Then he messages Dean and asks him to find a burger place.
When he’s done, he takes another look at Y/N. Her head hangs from her shoulders like it weighs a ton, eyes staring unfocused in the vague direction of the carpet. He moves towards her carefully, kneeling between her legs.
“Y/N,” he murmurs, searching for her gaze as he braces his hands on her knees. “Hey, what do you need?”
She stares at him blankly for a moment before she shakes her head, gaze falling back to the floor, “Nothing.”
“Water?”
“No, thanks.”
Sam sighs, leans back on his knees. He doesn’t want to overwhelm her when she’s like this. He watches her carefully. “Sweetheart,” he tries, “I know how difficult that case was for you.”
“You have no idea,” Y/N mumbles. She looks at him now, eyes all bloodshot and head shaking rapidly. “You don’t,” she insists, louder now. “You can’t even begin to understand because it hasn’t happened to you.”
“I know,” he whispers. He can see her eyes getting watery and her jaw getting tighter and tighter and he hates it. “I know, honey. I’m just saying that I’m here. I’m here for you, whatever you need. Just please don’t shut me out-”
“I’m not shutting you out-”
“-because I can’t help you when you do that and I need to make sure you’re okay. Okay?” Y/N just stares at him. He reaches a hand up into the hair at the back of her head gently. “Know you’re close to having a seizure, sweetheart. Let me look after you. What do you need?”
Y/N stares at him with teary eyes. She knows that stress is bad for her seizures - she hasn’t forgotten. The boys have always been better than her at being on alert for them, especially Sam. He’s always monitoring them. Eventually she just sniffs, shakes her head, “I need a shower.”
Sam sighs, “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
“My clothes need throwing out, Sam, and I need to get this dirt out of my hair.”
“I just- I don’t want you to go while you’re-”
“I’m not gonna go, Sam. I need a shower.”
Sam lets go of her and leans back a little in an attempt to give her the space she needs. “Okay,” he says quietly. He clears his throat, nods. “I’m gonna sit on the toilet just in case. That okay?”
Y/N thinks about it for a moment before she nods. Sam stands, offers her a hand which she takes if only for his sake. He hurries past her to the tiny motel bathroom and flicks the light on. The fan fires up its incessant whir as he pulls back the shower curtain and drags the mat over to the base of the tub with his foot.
When he turns around to offer her some help undressing, Y/N is in the doorway. She clings onto the doorframe for dear life. Sam freezes.
“Baby?” he checks, rushing to her. He supports her with his hands on her waist, “What is it?”
Y/N spiraling. Her eyes are wide, tears streaming down her cheeks and she gulping down air in big gasps. She looks frantic.
“Hey, hey, what is it?” he pleads, holding her tighter. “Talk to me, honey. What’s wrong?”
“I’m gonna go,” she gasps, shaking her head rapidly. “You’re right, I’m gonna go. I’m sorry.”
“Okay,” he breathes, somewhat calming now that he knows it’s something he can tackle. “It’s okay, that’s fine.” He loops his arm around her now for support. “Let’s sit down, yeah?”
Y/N’s gasps continue as she lets him lead her down onto the bathroom floor. “I’m sorry, Sammy,” she cries, clinging to him. “I’m gonna go, I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” he promises. “I’m here. I’ve got you.” He pulls her with him away from the doorway, props himself up against the side of the tub and tucks her under his arm. “I’ve got you, baby.”
“I’m sorry, S’mmy, so, so sorry,” she slurs, words all mangling together like goo.
“Shh, it’s okay,” he hushes her. “Not mad, promise. You’re okay.” He brushes a kiss against her matted hair. “I got you.”
“Should’a listened-”
“Shh, it’s okay. I’ve got you.”
Y/N’s body goes rigid for a moment before the seizure takes hold, torso jerking against Sam’s hold. He lowers her as gently as he can onto her side, folding the poor excuse for a bath mat with one hand and pushing it under her head. He checks his watch for the time and lets out a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding onto, guiding her hair out of her face.
“You’re okay, honey,’ he whispers.
Y/N’s never been very good at asking for help when she needs it. She’s always been fairly talented at normalising her seizures, ignoring them where possible. She has a lot of trouble admitting when she can feel them coming on. Sam’s never mistaken it for not caring, though. He knows they scare her, make her vulnerable in a way she would do anything to avoid.
He’s been monitoring her all day, knowing that the stress of the case was likely to bring this on. It was only a matter of time before it happened.
Y/N’s body stills and Sam takes a look at her flushed face. She’s dribbled slightly down her chin and he pulls his sleeve down to catch it. He shifts slightly so he can lay her more comfortably on her back. He rests a gentle hand on her head, thumb stroking her hair. He checks his watch again. Two minutes - absolutely fine.
Sam can see her eyes moving beneath her lids. “Y/N,” he calls quietly, “You’re okay.” As she opens her eyes, they begin to wander around the space, unfocused. Sam leans over into her line of vision. “Hey, you’re okay. I’ve got you.”
He can tell she’s still trying to get a grip on what’s happening, her eyes floating around his face like she’s trying to figure him out. He keeps his thumb rubbing gentle lines on her head to try and ground her.
“You had a seizure,” he explains, “But you’re okay. I’m right here.”
Y/N blinks a few times. She grinds her jaw once, twice. Sam can see her tongue wriggling around in her mouth.
“Think you bit your tongue, honey, but that’s okay.” He offers a gentle smile, “You’re okay.”
Y/N stares at him for a little while before she grunts out his name, voice hoarse.
Sam nods, “It’s me. I got you.” She tries to tilt her head to the side, eyes searching. Sam lifts his hand. “Careful,” he urges. “We’re at the motel, just in the bathroom. Dean’s out, it’s just me and you.” She catches his eye again and he smiles, “You’re okay.”
“Sammy,” she says again, gazing up at him with foggy eyes.
“Yeah, honey?”
“I’m sorry.”
Sam smiles sadly at her. Her memory’s obviously started to piece itself back together again. “It’s okay,” he promises, his hand finding its spot on the top of her head again. “Don’t need to be sorry. It’s all good, sweetheart.”
Y/N tries to clear her throat, shifting her weight slightly on the floor.
“You okay?”
“Hungry,” she murmurs.
“That’s okay. Dean won’t be long, he’s gonna get some dinner.” She nods. “Do you wanna sit up?”
“Yeah.”
Sam helps guide her up and she settles in a spot between his long legs, leaning her weight against him. “There we go,” he sighs. He wraps an arm around her waist, tangling the other one up in her hair and holding her against him. “Can stand up when you’re ready,” he tells her. “Just let me know.”
Y/N just pushes herself even closer to him. “Love you,” she whispers.
“Love you too, sweetheart.” Sam kisses her head before he rests his cheek there. “I got you.”
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Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
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