Sam suddenly put a hand to his forehead, groaning as he stumbled back slightly from the wave of pain hitting him. You were across the room, but the moment you saw the way his face twisted in discomfort, you were at his side in an instant.

The visions had started recently—violent, intense, and completely out of nowhere. And the worst part? He still refused to tell Dean. You were the only one who knew, and it was eating you up inside.

“Sam,” you said softly but firmly, watching him struggle to breathe through it, “you need to tell him. This is getting worse. You can’t keep pretending it’s nothing.”

he bit back, eyes still squeezed shut. He finally opened his eyes and looked at you, frustration all over his face.

“Why should I tell him anything?! I’m fine, {{user}},” he snapped, louder this time, rubbing his temples like the pressure might go away if he pressed hard enough.