AN: aaaaAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH IM SORRY its just I started school and i have a really busy schedule and for some reason instead of having the most homework in my honors classes I have the most in friggin history cause my teacher is a dick who assigns 4 2-page essays for every three weeks... sorry for the rant, here you go.

P.S. I realised that I never put a disclaimer, so all rights go to Marvel and Warner, etc etc.

Just as they turned to look at the indeed glowing Winchester, Sam awoke with a gasp, his head slamming into the table with the arching of his back. Bruce rushed steadily towards him, trying to calm Sam in a medicinal capacity while Tony stood back, more curious than concerned (though concern was shockingly evident). Tony was brought to more active attention by Bruce repeating Sam's name with a frantic overtone, and Sam seeming to start uttering a reply.

"H-H-Happens, mmmove... grand... mal-" and with that his eyes rolled back, an almost imperceptible twitch forming in his left hand, then spreading throughout his limbs and increasing intensity.

"Shit" Bruce whispered under his breath in a rare use of profanity, sliding a folded towel under Sam's head, moving the cot out of behemoth arm's reach of anything save the floor, and paced back to Tony's place in the lab doorway, throwing furtive glances to his watch.

"Umm, what the fuck is happening to him." Tony said, his eyes wide but voice firmed into an order of explanation.

Bruce spare a glance back at Sam, then his watch, before responding "Just what it looks like... a seizure after, uh, a glowing of sorts. The glowing he mentioned, but the damn kid didn't mention much of anything else." Bruce ran his hand through his hair, huffing impatiently because Sam had known seizures were a possibility, and had obviously had them a good number of times. Tony was fairly cautious, questioning Bruce on seizures and hospitals and isn't-this-a-bad-bad-thing, and for some reason Tony couldn't seem to get it through his head that yes, Bruce can treat Sam's seizure for now, but no, if the seizure is longer than four minutes or Sam hurts himself, Bruce can't take care of him, because he isn't a goddamn medical doctor. By the end of Bruce's answers, he was huffing evr so slightly (which is practically full-on heavy-chested panting for all Tony's concerned) and specks of green defined his eyes.

"Okaaay, Brucey. What's the time at?" Tony none-so-smoothly cooperated.

With a sigh, Bruce flicked his wrist, reporting a 2:30 timing on the seizure from his watch, and Sam's muscle spasms were coming down from their high. "When that man wakes up, I just might have a friend who'd wish to speak with him." Dr. Banner said, rolling up his lilac paisley sleeves menacingly.

AN: I know, short again, but if I had continued it further it would have been way too long, and I wanted to end on some humor :) (here's the "menacing" shirt Bruce was wearing: .us/media/catalog/product/cache/1/image/2107x2705/ 9df78eab33525d08d6e5fb8d27136e95/l/a/lathkin_purpl e_xf121055_ )