"We need to stop," Sophie's voice was urgent. She sat behind Sam, as she had, uncomplainingly, for the last thirty-eight hours of travel.
"Why?" Sam, not distracted by the road, answered first.
"Seizure. Very bad and very soon," was all Sophie said in response.
"How do you know?" Sam asked.
"Because the sky's the wrong color and I feel like I'm going to vomit. And I really, really don't want to hit my head on any of this chrome and bleed all over your car so would you please pull over," the words came out all in a rush, like she'd put the sentence together with great care and was afraid she'd lose it if she didn't speak quickly.
Dean pulled to the side of the two lane - trying to pick a space where it didn't turn immediately from asphalt to drainage ditch. Sophie got out of the back seat without hesitation - and without grabbing her coat. She walked about ten paces away from the car, along the gravel shoulder, then knelt down.
Sam and Dean approached cautiously - shrugging on their jackets against the freezing rain. Both startled when Sophie collapsed suddenly, her head hitting the gravel and convulsions taking her body in waves. Dean rushed forward, but Sam caught him with an arm around the waist.
"Don't," Sam said.
"What do you mean don't?" Dean was frantic now.
"I read up on this," Sam said, "Once she came along with us. Don't touch her while she's seizing. It should taper off in a minute or so. When it ends get her laying on her side. Then when she's conscious again just comfort her. It might take a couple hours for her to get back to herself."
"Aren't I supposed to put something in her mouth?" Dean felt useless. He wanted to do something. He wanted to help.
"They used to think that, but no," Sam assured him, "Just leave her for now. Go back to the car if you need to. I can get you when she's done."
"No," Dean shook his head, "I'll stay."
And so he sat down on the dirt and watched and waited. The shaking hit Sophie's whole body at once and Dean winced as he watched the gravel scrape up her arms, her face, her legs. Then her right leg stilled, followed by her right arm. A half a minute later her left side followed. Sam got up, pulling Dean with him.
"Get her laying on her side," Sam instructed. Dean complied, trying to be gentle.
"Now open her mouth, clear out any blood that might be blocking her airway," Sam's voice was unnaturally calm. Dean nodded and followed the instructions. He wiped his bloody hands on his jeans and looked up at Sam for the next step.
"She bit her tongue pretty bad," Dean observed. Blood continued to drip from between Sophie's lips.
"Now we wait again," Sam said, sitting down.
"We don't move her?" Dean asked, "That gravel can't feel good."
"Her brain won't be sending pain signals yet. She'll wake up in a minute. We can move her when she's cogent," Sam said.
"Thanks," Dean replied, "For reading up on this. I'm glad one of us had enough good sense to do that."
"No problem," Sam said, "I was always the research buff. Though I have of course ceded that title to Sophie. I've got a lot of skills, but computer modeling - that's impressive."
Dean chuckled.
"Looks like she's waking up," Sam said.
Sophie's eyelids fluttered open for half a second, then closed again. She tried to bring a hand up to wipe the blood from her mouth, but wasn't coordinated enough to manage yet.
"You can touch her," Sam said, "Hold her."
Dean nodded. He gathered Sophie up into his arms, wiping blood off her face with the sleeve of his shirt.
"You're okay," he whispered, kissing her forehead, "You're okay. I'm here. And we're going to take care of you. You're okay."
"Sit her up a little," Sam suggested quietly, "She may need to spit out the blood."
"Does she need stitches?" Dean asked.
"Check in a bit," Sam replied, "Right now just get her as comfortable as you can."
Dean nodded and shifted Sophie's body so she wouldn't choke. He felt a trickle of blood down his back. He kept whispering reassurances and rubbing circles between her shoulder blades. After what felt like an eternity he finally heard her try and talk.
"Dean?" She mumbled into his shoulder.
"I'm right here," he whispered in her ear, "I've got you. You're okay."
"Can't see right," Sophie said, trying and failing again to reach up and wipe blood from her face.
Dean shifted her down his chest and wiped away the trail of blood leading from her mouth.
"You're okay," he said again, "Everything's gonna be fine. You had a bad seizure. But you're safe. And you're going to be just fine."
"I can see you now," she mumbled, tucking herself closer up against his chest and gazing up at him.
"Good," Dean cracked a smile. Sophie started to tremble in his arms a bit and he stiffened.
"I'm cold," she whispered into his chest. Dean ran his hand along her arm and twined his hand with hers. Her skin was frigid.
Having a seizure in the freezing rain on the side of the road would do that. Gosh the freezing rain. Couldn't the weather have cooperated just this once? Dean pulled his jacket out from beneath Sophie's head and tucked her inside, trying to provide a little shelter, a little warmth. She was drenched already.
"Hey Sam," Dean said, trying to keep his tone calm but speak loudly enough for his brother to hear, "Can you grab her a coat or a blanket? She's freezing."
Sam pulled off his hoodie and handed it to Dean, who carefully tucked it around Sophie's trembling shoulders.
"See," Dean said, "We're taking good care of you."
"Uh huh," Sophie managed. She still hadn't taken her eyes from Dean's face.
"You're probably the only thing that isn't blurry," Sam said, as if reading Dean's thoughts.
"What do you mean?" Dean asked.
"Vision is a really complicated task for the brain to manage. So it picked one focal distance that's just automatic, the rest take effort. And it's right there where you have her - seeing someone's face clearly when you're head's on their chest. Something to do with mothers and babies."
Dean sat like that and held her, hoping desperately another car wouldn't drive by and stop and ask questions. He thanked any entity that would listen nobody had seen Sophie convulsing.
He kept whispering reassurances, rocking her gently, and wiping the blood off when it dripped from between her lips. She was scraped up all over, her shirt and tights completely ruined with rips and blood. As time passed the bleeding from her mouth subsided and Dean was grateful he wouldn't have to manage stitches on her tongue. He kissed her forehead and felt a wave of relief that it wasn't quite as cold as before.
"What happened?" Sophie asked, her voice clearer now.
"You had a bad seizure. We're on the roadside in Manitoba, about an hour from our hotel. You're not badly hurt, just scraped up and very wet and very cold. As soon as you tell me you're ready we'll get back in the car and get you somewhere warm and dry, okay?" He explained.
Sophie nodded.
"I am never doing that again," she muttered into his chest, "I've had these before but my word that was awful. The whole gravel road thing makes it at least five times worse. Add in this freezing rain and I'll say ten times worse."
Dean chuckled. She was coming back to herself.
"You want to try and sit up?" He asked.
Sophie nodded and pushed against his chest until she was seated.
"Eyes back to working properly?" Dean asked.
"Yeah," Sophie confirmed, "And my mouth tastes less like blood than it did."
"Think you can get in the car?"
Sophie paused, her gaze going up the road to the Impala.
She opened her mouth to speak, then paused for a long moment.
"Hey," Dean cupped her chin and pulled her face around to look at him, "Whatever you need just ask?"
"Can you sit in the back with me?" Sophie sounded sheepish.
"Of course," he assured her, gathering her into his arms and standing up, "Not a problem whatsoever."