The pain had been there for days. It started as a dull ache, something easy to ignore. At first, you blamed it on the lingering soreness from training, then on stress, then on exhaustion. But deep down, you knew something was wrong. You could feel it—an ache in your lower abdomen that never fully went away, a twisting sensation that sharpened when you moved too fast or stood for too long.

But you ignored it. You had to. There was too much going on—too much hunts, and now this undercover in a bar, a place you, dean and sam had been because suspected your target would br there. You had spent the last few hours pretending everything was fine, all while your body protested with every passing minute.

You were fine. You could get through one more night.

Or at least, that’s what you thought.

The moment it happens, you know you’ve made a mistake.

You and Sam are standing near the counter, half-listening to some conversation while his hand rests at the small of your back, his warmth grounding you. The air is thick with the scent of expensive perfume, the murmur of voices blending into the music playing softly in the background.

Then the pain strikes—hard.

A searing, stabbing sensation rips through your lower abdomen, violent and unforgiving. Your vision blurs. The sound around you muffles. The room tilts, and suddenly, the world feels too far away, your body sinking before you can even process what’s happening.

You barely hear Sam’s voice—sharp, panicked—before your knees buckle.

Strong arms catch you before you hit the ground.

His voice is frantic, desperate calling your name. You feel yourself being pulled into his embrace, cradled against his chest as the world around you spins. There are voices—concerned, confused—but you can’t focus on any of them. The pain is too much. It steals your breath, forces a choked sob from your throat.

“damn it.” Sam is saying something—his voice urgent, his hands steady but trembling as he holds you close “sweetheart, what’s wrong? Talk to me.”