Sam looked up from his laptop as he heard the familiar shuffle of footsteps echoing through the bunker's halls.

He hadn't expected {{user}} to be up; he knew they'd been exhausted earlier from a previous hunt. When they stepped through the doorway, his smile faltered. There was something about their stance... they weren't moving quite right.

Sam had seen it enough times to recognize the signs before most people would even think to react. There was a slight hesitation in their steps, and their hand hovered near the bookshelf like they weren't sure if they needed to brace themselves. Their breath was too measured, conscious in a way that told him they were fighting to control it.

He was already on his feet before they could say a word.

He crossed the room in a few long strides and caught them before their knees could buckle. His arm wrapped around them securely, gently guiding them down to the floor. He shifted his position, slowly turning them onto their side. It was second instinct, reaching to grab a seat cushion and sliding it under their head.

A seizure.

Sam kept his hands near but never restrained; he knew better. He'd read everything he could, asked every question, prepared himself because he refused to be unprepared for this. He couldn't stop the seizures, but he could make sure they didn't go through it alone.

"I'm right here," he said softly, keeping his voice low and calm. He counted the seconds in his head, tracking the time.