So yes, I'm doing another hurt!Sam. This will eventually have tags to Season 2, I'll put those tags on the chapters they apply to. For now, it's teen!chesters

Sam had always had bad headaches, even when he was barely more than a toddler. Dean always told him it was because he would think too much, but in all honesty, he had no idea why his little brother would sometimes have to curl up in a dark room for hours as the headaches slowly progressed into migraines. But people got migraines, that wasn't scary. Until it was.

Sam was barely 12 the first time it happened, already starting to shoot towards Dean's height. It bothered him to no end to have his little brother be nearly as tall as he was. It also bothered him how sullen and moody Sam was becoming. He was pretty sure he hadn't been that dramatic at 12.

They were on a highway in God knows where, because isn't that how it always happens. Someone gets sick, and they're miles from anywhere that can be called civilization. Dean had noticed Sam was pale and rubbing his temples, so he had climbed into the backseat to try and massage some of the tension out of the younger boys neck. John had made it clear that he wasn't planning on stopping any time soon, so they were trying to get Sam's headache under control. Migraines in moving vehicles were terrible.

A half hour had passed with four ibuprofen and Dean continuously massaging Sam's neck before they gave up and Sam laid down across the backseat, his head on Dean's leg. They pulled a blanket over him to block out the light, and opened the windows a bit so he wouldn't get too hot. For a while, it seemed like that was working.

Almost an hour later, the blanket shifted a bit and Sam poked his head out. "Dean?"

"Yeah, Sammy?"

"Feel sick."

Dean met John's eyes in the rearview mirror. "You gonna throw up?"

"I don't know."

"Well, warn me."

John spoke up. "We'll stop for a bit in a little while. I'm getting hungry anyway, and you can get some air."

Sam had already retreated under the blanket again, but a muffled "thanks" was heard. Dean went back to watching out the window until the blanket was tossed back, and Sam sat up, looking infinitely worse. "Dad?" Dean said. "I really think we should pull over."

John glanced in the rearview mirror and sighed, pulling off by a grassy field. Sam tossed the door open and stumbled a few feet from the car, gulping air and leaning over. Dean slid out and trotted over to stand beside him, one hand rubbing his back. "You're good, Sammy, I gotcha."

This wasn't that unusual, especially if they were stuck in the car. What was unusual was when Sam stood up and wiped his mouth, a trickle of blood was running from his nose to his chin. "Uh, Sammy? Your nose is bleeding."

John heard Dean and headed over with some napkins. Sam wiped at the blood and stumbled a little bit. "Everything looks weird."

Dean caught Sam's shoulder. "What do you mean, weird?"

"Colors are too bright, I can't…" he cut off suddenly and grabbed his head with a cry. Dean grabbed him and lowered him to the ground, cradling him. "Oh god, it hurts, it hurts." The kid was shaking so violently, Dean was worried he was going to start convulsing. He looked up at their dad, panicked. "What do I do?!"

John had dropped to the ground beside them, and was holding Sam's face in his hands. "Sam, Sam, can you hear me?" Sam opened his mouth to speak, but at that moment, all his muscles went slack and his head dropped back, limp and unconscious. Blood still trickled from his nose.

"Shit, Dad, what do we do?" Dean was close to panic. John stood up and grabbed a water bottle, pouring it over the kids face. "We give him a couple minutes, and if he doesn't wake up, we take him to the hospital."

The next few minutes were the most nerve wracking minutes of Dean's 16 years, but eventually Sam's eyes fluttered open, bloodshot and unfocused. "De?" he said. "Dad?"

"We're right here, Sammy."

His eyes focused on Dean. "My head hurts."

Dean and John shared a glance. "How bad?"

"Migraine…"

John spoke up. "We're gonna stop at a motel, soon. Why don't you rest in the back with your brother until we get there?"

"Okay." His voice was faded. Dean stood up, the lanky 12 year old light in his arms. They positioned themselves in the backseat, blanket pulled over Sam's face as they headed down the highway again. John, true to his word, stopped at the first motel they saw, and got Sam laid out in bed with all the lights off. When he had fallen asleep, Dean pulled John aside. "What do we do?"

John watched his youngest sleeping fitfully in the dark room. "If it happens again, we have to take him to a doctor."

"I hope it doesn't happen again…"

John just nodded.