Hunter's Lullaby: Chapter eleven
Chapter 11
Hampton Falls, May 5
When Sam came back from work, he found a message on the kitchen table that read, ‘I’m down at the lake.’
It had been a hot day. At five o’clock, the sun was still beating down from a pale blue sky. Sam changed into a t-shirt and followed the path Dean had cleared. The trees were blossoming and it smelled like soil and chlorophyll. Sam felt good. The last two weeks had gone smoothly. Dean had spent lots of time working in the shed and seemed to be really enjoying himself. Their evenings were spent playing on the PSP or reading and watching old movies. They had never led a life so peaceful and, even if it seemed surreal sometimes, Sam intended to make the most of it.
If he could only find five thousand dollars, everything would be perfect. He and Dean had talked about it and had already mailed another false credit card application. They were waiting for it to arrive in a mail box two states over, but there was no way they could withdraw more than a thousand dollars without arousing suspicion. Sam would probably end up in some bar far enough from Portsmouth playing pool and poker; but neither he nor Dean were particularly fond of the idea of Dean not being there to watch Sam’s back. Sam wasn’t bad at hustling pool, but he worked better with his brother there.
The lake was small, surrounded by old trees and tall grass. Dean had found an old dock that had been buried under bushes and had cleared it. The place was isolated, but the brothers had discovered what could’ve been the foundation of a cabin south of the lake, a sign that it had not always been that way.
Dean was sitting on the dock, his legs stretched out in front of him, wearing only his maternity jeans and a t-shirt - something he rarely did when he was going outside of the house, just in case somebody saw him.
“Hey, Sammy!” he greeted.
He had a bowl in his hands and was licking a spoon. Ice cream. Lately he never passed a day without at least a bowlful. Thankfully, none of them were covered in barbecue sauce. It wasn’t a craving, Dean insisted. He had always loved ice cream, and Sam knew better than to argue with him.
“Hey. You okay?”
“You gotta come and see this.”
Sam slowly sat down next to Dean, facing the lake. He winced as he unfolded his long legs and heard his joints crack. Dean smiled playfully at him and lay back a bit, carefully balancing the empty bowl on his belly.
“What are you-”
“Shh! Look.”
Though Dean held as still as he could, Sam saw the bowl shaking lightly. It stopped, then shook again. And again, and again.
“She’s hiccupping,” Dean explained, still smiling.
“Wow.”
“I know, right? It happened once this morning and now, it’s been going on for like… ten minutes.”
“Can I touch?”
“Go on,” Dean sighed, taking the bowl off his stomach and rolling his eyes.
Sam pressed the palm of his hand against Dean’s stomach and felt the small tremors that were going through it. He smiled in awe, looking at his brother who was now blushing. He was about to pull his hand away when he felt it, a soft blow.
“Oh!” He said, and his first reflex was to remove his hand as though he’d been burned. “She kicked.”
“Yeah. It’s not like Captain Nemo anymore, is it?”
“No. Wow.”
Sam kissed Dean on the lips; they were warm and soft. When he pulled back, his brother’s eyes were carefully avoiding his.
“What’s wrong?”
“I wanna get on the road.”
“What?”
“Not like… permanently. I was thinking maybe a couple of days, Head up to Boston or down to New York, ya know? Like a hunting gig, without the monsters.”
“Ooo-kay. But I thought you were fine, working on the crib and all, that you weren’t bored.”
“M’not. It’s just… I feel a bit fidgety. And this is probably the last month I’ll be able to show myself in public and my belly is not big enough to really bother me and it’s spring and… yeah. I’d like that.”
Sam frowned. He felt secure here, with Dean, knowing that Rania was half an hour away if anything happened. He knew is brother was still far from his due date and that his health had been good since he’d shaken off his bronchitis, but still, Sam couldn’t help but worry.
It must have shown on his face because Dean coaxed. “Come on, Sammy. I’ll be fun. You have three days off next week.”
“I’m not sure.”
“Hey, it’s not like you can forbid me to go. I don’t need you to drive around.”
It was a low blow, but Sam let it go when he saw the silent plea in Dean’s eyes.
“Ok, but we plan this, and we find a decent motel, and we go to Boston. Don’t wanna be too far away from Rania.”
Dean pouted a bit. “Where’s your adventurous spirit, grandma?”
“Left it somewhere in Lousiana when I realized my brother was pregnant.”
“Shut up.”
But Dean was smiling.
::: :::
Sam waited until Dean was in the shower later that evening to call Rania. She answered quickly, as always.
“Sam, is everything alright?”
“Yeah. Yeah, Dean is fine. Great.”
“Ok, what can I do for you then?”
Sam explained Dean’s idea and heard Rania sigh. “I don’t see any problem as long as you guys take rest stops every two hours or so and Dean takes things easy, but I already told him all of that when he called me this morning.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. You should try talking to each other sometimes.”
“Right. Sorry to have bothered you.”
“No biggie,” Rania answered, a mischievous smile in her voice.
Sam hung up, feeling a bit like a jerk for not trusting Dean on this. At the same time, he was kind of proud to know his brother had had the same concerns and that he had actually taken the time to call his doctor before talking to Sam.
::: :::
Outside of Portland, May 1
It was a good day to be on the road. Clouds were hiding the sun, a warm wind was blowing and the temperature wasn’t too hot. Dean had decided to take the wheel first and they had sat in comfortable silence for the first hour or so. Dean had left his jacket and shirt open in the car and, once again, Sam could admire the protruding swell of his belly, tightening his t-shirt, barely constricted by his seatbelt. Dean was now halfway through his twenty-sixth week and had gained ten pounds, practically all restricted to his stomach area. His navel had popped out completely and the little bump it made was perfectly visible under the thin fabric of his shirt.
Dean was the first to break the silence as they drove along the highway. He turned off the radio and cleared his throat. “Sam, I’ve been thinking.”
“About what?”
“The baby’s name.”
“Come up with something?”
“No.”
“Wow. Good thinking, Dean.”
“Will you let me finish?” Dean growled, looking nervous and impatient.
“Yeah, go on.”
“Listen, Sam. I know you must have been thinking about it too but I… I don’t wanna name her Mary.”
Dean cleared his throat again, carefully keeping his eyes on the road. Sam realized this must be an issue for him, something he had been thinking a lot about. Of course, Sam had thought about it too, but more from Dean’s perspective, and had told himself that, if it was important to Dean to name their daughter after their mom, he would go along with it.
Now, of course, Dean was feeling guilty, like he was betraying their mother’s memory somehow.
“It’s ok,” Sam said.
“It’s just… I love her, you know that, but… With everything we carry with us… our past. I kinda want the baby to have a fresh start, you know? An all-new, fresh-and-crispy name”.
“Yeah, I get it.”
“And you didn’t want to call her Mary?”
“No, Dean. I get it. Really. Look, I love Mom too - probably not in the same way you do, because you got to spend four years with her, you remember what life was like before she died. Still, she’s my mom and I love her, but I like the idea of a name that won’t always bring us back to our past.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay, then.” Dean smiled and relaxed a bit.
Sam settled back and sighed, ready to let himself drift off to sleep. The Impala had always had that effect on him. The engine’s noise had been his personal lullaby for as long as he could remember. Just as he was feeling his eyelids getting heavier, Dean groaned. Then he started fidgeting in his seat, wincing slightly from time to time, and after ten minutes, he looked downright uncomfortable, jaw clenched and a pained expression on his face. Sam let it go until he couldn’t do it anymore.
“What’s wrong?
“Nothing.”
“Come on, Dean, if you’re in pain you-”
“M’not in pain. I just wish we’d find a rest stop or a gas joint somewhere.”
“Why? Do you need to stretch your legs?”
“No! I need to take a piss, that’s all,” Dean said with a mix of shame and exasperation in his voice. “Your daughter is like… dancing on my bladder right now.”
“Well, just pull over. It won’t be the first time you’ve peed beside a tree or on some bushes, dude.”
“I can’t,” Dean snarled very slowly.
“Why?”
Dean hit the wheel a couple of times with his hands, a dark blush creeping up his cheeks.
“Because I can’t do it standing up anymore, ok? There, are you happy now? For fuck’s sake, why do you have to know everything?”
“You can’t…?”
“Oh, don’t look so shocked! There’s this pressure when I try it and I’m having a hard time seeing my own freaking dick!”
“Hey. Calm down. We… Do you want me to drive?”
“No. M’trying not to move too much.”
They didn’t speak again until they finally hit a rest stop more than ten minutes later. As Sam waited for his brother to get back to the car, heavy rain drops started to fall and he felt the mood of the day changing, getting gloomier along with the weather. He wasn’t surprised when Dean opened the passenger door and demanded that he move.
“Dean, I wasn’t trying to upset you.”
Dean looked at him and tried for half a smile. “Not your fault, Sam. I’m ok
. I just wanna sleep a bit.”
And that he did, snoring loudly, saliva trickling down the corner of his mouth. As a matter of fact, Dean slept through the whole trip to Boston, until around three in the afternoon. He was woken up by horns honking as Sam tried to make his way through traffic downtown. Dean was grumpy and short-tempered. The first thing he did, after wiping the saliva off his chin, was to snap at Sam for letting him sleep too long (“You think I wanted to go on a road trip to freaking sleep in the car?”). He only calmed down when he saw the sign for a restaurant where he claimed he’d once had the best chicken wings of his life.
Sam was more than happy to stop. The place was crowded with people chatting loudly and watching a baseball game on the giant TV screens hanging from the walls. It smelled like beer and popcorn and deep-fry. The brothers took a table in a corner where they could watch the exits. Dean’s mood improved almost as soon as they were served the famous, extra-spicy wings. He ate as if he’d been fasting for the last week or so, licking his fingers and drinking big gulps of his double-chocolate milkshake. Sam slowly munched on the few wings he had managed to save from his brother’s appetite, watching the game and drinking the beer Dean had insisted he should order. “Hey, you’d drink one if I was. Stop treating me like I can’t control myself and have a beer.”
Sam had obeyed, and he was now feeling loose and relaxed. It didn’t even annoy him when Dean began to blow bubbles with his straw at the bottom of his glass. Sam just used an old distraction technique.
“So, Dean. We got what… two more months to go, right?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“Because if you decide not to show yourself in public when June comes, we have some stuff to do beforehand.”
“You’re talking like I actually have a choice,” Dean replied, frowning.
“Well, as I’ve said before, I don’t think people will look at you and think about pregnancy.”
“You don’t think? That’s not good enough for me Sam. I can’t draw attention to myself. Could be dangerous.”
“I know that, but-”
“I won’t have this conversation with you again. What were you saying about stuff needing to be done?”
“All we have is one set of newborn pajamas. We need so many things and I don’t wanna shop for them all by myself. We should make a list, for starters, and get ourselves ready.”
Dean winced. “I hate that depot store.”
“Maybe we could only buy the biggest stuff there, like the stroller and the baby carrier and the diapers. There’s a couple of smaller stores near my workplace where we could find baby clothes and-”
Sam was interrupted by a shout coming from the table just behind them where four middle-aged men were sitting. Judging by the number of empty bottles surrounding them, they were all more than a little drunk. The shout seemed to have come from the bald one, who must have weighted a good 275 pound. The guy facing him, a red-headed man almost as big, swore loudly and yelled back that the other wouldn’t dare to repeat what he’d just said.
Sam was watching them with irritation when the bald guy got up and pushed the table toward the red-headed one. Some people were already getting away and one waiter was calling for help. The red-head pushed the table back much more forcefully and it hit Baldy right in his large stomach. He tumbled backward, and Sam knew the man was going to fall on him if he kept going. He did, dropping on his back between the table’s corner and Sam’s thighs while his legs kicked empty air. Sam made a surprised “oof” and then helped the guy up.
“Get the fuck away from me,” Baldy groaned, pushing Sam on the chest.
It would have taken Sam about thirty seconds to put the guy in his place, but two waiters built like bouncers were already there, taking matters into their own hands and helping the whole table of drunks out of the restaurant. The manager came to apologize and offered to comp their dinner and whatever they wanted to drink. Sam smiled and sat back, turning toward Dean and waiting for a smartass comment about how he had managed to get his food for free.
He was surprised, then alarmed, to see Dean pale and sweating, pupils dilated in his green wide-open eyes.
“Dean, is the baby-”
“She’s fine. She’s fine, Sam. I just… let’s get out of here.”
“What? Why?”
But Dean was already up and moving. Sam threw a couple of bills for tip on the table and followed him outside. “Dean, wait? What’s going on?”
Sam almost had to run to keep Dean’s pace. His brother only stopped when he reached the Impala.
“Come on, Sammy, let’s go,” he said, unlocking the passenger seat and getting in.
Huffing in frustration, Sam got behind the wheel and closed his door impatiently. “Dean, what the hell?”
“I wanna go. Let’s go.”
“What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”
“I’m not hurt, Sam!” Dean shouted, face tensed with anger. “I just wanna go. Will you start the freaking car?”
Sam groaned but did as he was told. He drove for a couple of minutes before saying: “I saw a decent-looking motel just outside of town.”
“No. No motel. Let’s head back home.”
“To Hampton Falls?” Sam asked in disbelief.
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m asking you.”
Sam glared at Dean and knew he wouldn’t get anything more out of his brother than he had already said. So he drove, getting out of the city and back on the highway as Dean looked out the window, one arm curled over his stomach, his lips reduced to a thin white line. As the minutes ticked by, Sam’s incomprehension slowly shifted to anger until he was having trouble breathing and staying focused on the road. When he saw a gas station up ahead, he left the highway and parked the car in a quiet parking spot near the cover of some trees.
“Ok,” he said, trying to sound as calm as possible. “We’re not going anywhere until you tell me what the hell happened back there.”
“Sam, let it go.”
“No. I won’t. I swear to God, Dean, sometimes you…”
“What?”
“I need some air.”
Sam got out of the car and walked back and forth in the parking lot until he trusted himself to be calm. He still couldn’t get back in the car, so he let himself drop down on an old wooden bench. Rain was still falling in small chilly drops carried by the wind. Some time must have passed because when Dean finally joined him, Sam’s face was wet and he had started shivering.
“Sam, come back to the car.”
“No.”
“It’s raining, damn it.”
“You tell me why we’re going home.”
Dean groaned in frustration and crossed his arms over his chest. “Because I don’t feel safe,” he finally said.
“What?”
“I don’t feel safe. I need… we need to get back, Sam.” Dean paused and sat next to Sam, looking tired and spent. And worried.
“Is it because of what happened in the restaurant?”
“Yeah.”
“Because of some drunken idiot who fell on me? I could’ve taken him if I’d needed to, you know that.”
“Yeah,” Dean whispered. “I know.”
“So what’s the problem?”
“I saw these douchebags starting to fight and I knew they were close to us and it could get worse and then when the guy fell on you I… you know what I thought?”
“No.”
“I was freaking scared, Sam. For the baby. It didn’t even cross my mind that you could get hurt. All I could think was that I could catch a blow to the stomach, that I needed to protect myself. I couldn’t have your back.”
Sam shook his head and tried to make some sense of what his brother had just said. “What’s wrong with that? Of course you had to protect yourself and the baby. I’m a big boy, Dean. I can take care of myself.”
“Hate that,” Dean mumbled.
“I don’t understand. I’m trying, Dean, I swear. Why does everything have to be so difficult with you?”
“Because I’m fucked up. Because back there in the restaurant, I felt exposed and defenseless and scared and out of place. What’s left of me, Sam? Of the man I used to be, huh? I mean, have you looked at me? I’m grotesque. I’m a freak. “
“Yeah, well, welcome to the club.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
“I know,” Sam snapped. “Still, what do you want me to say, Dean? You didn’t do anything wrong and, shit, you have to cut yourself some slack. It’s my turn to watch out for you. Why can’t you just accept that?”
“I don’t know,” Dean sighed, shaken by a violent shiver. “I… I just want us to get back home. I don’t feel good… or safe. Here.”
“Okay, let’s get back home. But Dean, you have to accept to give up some control here. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“Yeah, well. It feels wrong.”
Dean slowly stood up and started to make his way back to the car, his arms wrapped around his waist. He looked thin and shallow from Sam’s perspective. A painful rush of love tightened Sam’s chest and throat. This was a defeat for Dean, failing to prove to himself that he was still the same and that nothing had really changed.
Of course, everything had changed, and for the first time in a couple of months, Sam considered their future with uncertainty. Could they really raise a child and lead a different life from all they had ever known? Would they make the same mistakes as their father?
On the way back, both of them were silent, but this time, it seemed heavy and sad.
::: :::
Portsmouth, May 15
The small store was quiet at this hour of the afternoon. A ringing bell announced their arrival and Sam saw Dean tense next to him, but he only had to nudge him for Dean to put on a wide, fake smile.
The saleswoman approached them with a smile as wide and fake, but her eyes were shining with greed. “Hello there. What can I do for you?”
“We know what we need. We’re good, but thanks,” Sam said.
“Well, I’ll be right over there if you need me,” she answered, pointing to the counter.
Her smile didn’t fade a bit, neither did Dean’s.
“Creepy lady,” he grunted when the saleswoman was back behind the counter.
“Dean, focus. There. The newborn stuff is at the back, let’s go.”
Sam pulled out a small notebook and a pen from his pocket as they make their way to the back. “Okay. First things first. We’ll need five newborn jumpsuits, buttons in the front. You get them, I’ll check.”
“Why do I have to be the one to choose them?”
“Because if I do, you’ll question every single one of my choices. There’s no way we’re reenacting yesterday’s mess.”
“Geez, what pulled your panties into a twist?” Dean grumbled, but he stepped forward to look at the jumpsuits.
Yesterday had been a nightmare even if both brothers had entered the giant baby store with the best intentions. Dean had suggested that they get everything done as soon as possible and, as the last few days had been hard on both of them, Sam was more than happy to comply. After they had come back from Boston, Dean had been quiet and withdrawn. He wasn’t exactly broody or short-tempered, just well hidden behind his defensive walls.
Of course, shopping hadn’t done them any good and they had soon started to get on each other’s nerves, lost in the vast aisles of the baby depot, trying to figure out what was essential and what wasn’t, facing so many choices every purchase had been a debate. Dean had been impatient and snappy. Sam could relate. When they had faced the baby wipes wall - yeah, a whole goddamn wall of them, he had exploded. “What the hell is wrong with the world, Sam? I mean, really. Aloe, rippled, hypo-allergenic, extra-large, extra-thick and… Fuck. What does it matter if there are teddy bears or butterfly patterns? They’re gonna end up covered in shit anyway!”
Dean’s tirade had gotten them offended looks from the other customers. In Dean’s defense, they had just spent fifteen minutes trying to figure out which pacifier they needed: silicone or rubber, orthodontic or not, for breast-fed babies, for premature ones. Some of them even came with some kind of vibration feature. And before the pacifiers, there had been the diapers and bottles.
They had finally managed to make it to the stroller aisles, choosing one of the hybrid things that served as a baby carrier and a car seat and could be clipped on the stroller. Then everything had gone to Hell. Dean had refused each and every single model Sam had suggested for ridiculous reasons (too pink; kitten patterns, really?) Sam had lost what was left of his patience when the most affordable and nicest model had provoked an eyeroll from Dean. “It’s too girly. Jesus Sam, all you’re missing is a pair of boobs!”
“At least I can still pee while standing up!” Sam had shouted back angrily.
Now there, there was attention they did not need. And although Dean had had it coming, Sam had whispered an apology and they had taken the stroller, leaving the aisle with two full shopping carts as quickly as possible under the judgmental eyes of a dozen costumers.
“There, done,” Dean announced, coming back from the aisle as Sam was still cringing from the memory. “Five bodysuits, buttons in the front.”
Sam looked carefully at them; there were two white, two light blue and…
“Dean. Did you actually pick out something pink?”
“Shut up. It was to stop you whining”,” Dean replied, color blooming on his cheeks.
“Yeah right. Now, we need four sets of newborn pajamas.”
“Ok. I’m still saying that they’re way too small.”
But Dean remained pliant and cooperative until the end and when they finally departed the store (leaving an ecstatic saleswoman behind) they had found everything from the list and were even shorter on money than yesterday. Their budget was looking worse and worse. Rania had called them two days ago to say that the Chinese anesthesiologist had agreed to do the job for three thousand six hundred dollars, instead of the five thousand originally planned - still, Sam would have to find the money eventually. They did have more than four thousand dollars stashed aside but they wouldn’t make it through the birth if Sam took the money from there.
Dean was less than enthusiastic about the idea of Sam going into shady bars to hustle pool all by himself, but he’d have to come to terms with it eventually.
It was hot and almost noon; the sun was shining hard. As they made their way back to the Impala, Dean, panting and sweating, finally gave up and unbuttoned his jacket. The street was busy. Nobody really paid attention to them and Dean was looking more comfortable. They were talking about the baby’s name - which they weren’t any closer to deciding - when a young boy, who couldn’t have been more than five, jumped in front of them, pointing a small finger toward Dean’s belly.
“You look funny,” he said sincerely.
Sam froze and took a quick look at his brother, whose mouth was gaping open like he wanted to say something but couldn’t figure out what.
“Did you eat a basketball?” the kid asked, and in his defense, he did seem worried.
“Yeah, totally,” Dean replied. “I was stuck on this desert island and there was nothing left to eat except my basketball and I was so hungry.”
“Dean-”
“What… What did it taste like?” The boy was starting to look a bit nervous.
“Barbecue flavor chips.”
“Really?”
“Killian! Come back here right this instant!”
The mother was a few feet behind them. The small boy ran to her, speaking excitedly. “Mom! This nice man was starving and he ate a ball! For real!”
“Let’s get out of here,” Dean whispered, walking quicker and closing his jacket once again. As they left, Sam could hear the mother severely scolding her son about not laughing at the poor fat man or making up crazy stories.
“That’s it,” Dean declared once he was settled behind the wheel. “See? That’s exactly what I was talking about. I can’t do this anymore, Sam. Now that we have everything we need, I’m done.”
“It’s a five year old kid, Dean. And you were the one playing Tom Hanks and Wilson.”
“What do I have to say to convince you, Sam? I don’t feel comfortable in front of people anymore. Is that so hard to understand?”
No, it wasn’t, hearing the pleading tone in Dean’s voice. Sam proposed a nice meal at a grill that was famous for its ribs the next day, as Dean’s last public appearance until the birth of their daughter. Dean agreed.
::: :::
They ate and enjoyed themselves that night, but as the evening went by, the restaurant got really crowded and Dean began to get nervous. Sam suggested they leave before desert, and Dean agreed immediately. They stopped by a supermarket to buy some Ben and Jerry ice cream and, once home, settled on old metal chairs on the porch of their house. The weather was nice and warm, the sky was clear and Dean was more than happy to let his jacket and Sam’s shirt go, showing the distended dark fabric of one of his old tees that was barely covering the maternity panel of his jeans.
“She’s kicking like crazy,” Dean said, dropping his gaze to his stomach.
“Can I?”
“Go on… Try… Wait…”
Dean put his ice cream bowl on the floor and took Sam’s hand, placing it a bit to the left of his navel and holding it there. Sam smiled, feeling the little blows against his palm, some sharper than others.
“Guess she likes ice cream. She moves a lot when I eat it.”
“It’s because you just ate supper and you’re digesting. She must feel and hear all sorts of stuff. Besides, you always eat ice cream so I guess that the probabilities are that-”
“Ok, ok, killjoy,” Dean sighed, pulling both of their hands off his belly. He looked at the thin fabric of his shirt in concern. “Guess I’ll need new ones,” he said, trying to pull on it. “These won’t fit me soon and they’re all misshapen.”
“I’m on it.”
“You better be. God, how much larger will I get? There’s still two months to go.”
“You haven’t gained a lot of weight so far. Your belly is small, compared to some mothers.”
“Anyway. Sam. I did the laundry this morning-”
“I know. Do you feel alright?”
“Shut up. So, as I was gonna say, I found this in the pocket of your jeans.” Dean took a piece of paper out of his jacket which was resting at his feet and handled it to Sam.
It was a list of girl names - one of many Sam had done while passing time at work when the store was quiet.
“Yeah, that was just for fun.”
“Those names are weird. Lux? Really?”
“Well I’m sort of running out of ideas and that was just to pass the time. I searched the internet and looked at some old books and those names… They’re supposed to have magical powers so…”
Sam shrugged. He hadn’t given it any deeper thought. He sometimes just liked an intellectual challenge.
“I know. I’ve look some of them up on the net. But… is the lore real or is it all bullshit?”
“I don’t really know. Some cultures seem to believe so. I’d say there’s a fifty/fifty chance.”
“Yeah well,” Dean looked at the list and scratched the back of his head. “I kinda like this one.”
Sam read the name. “Sumiko?”
“Huh-huh. It’s Japanese, right? You have to pronounce it Sue-mee-ko.”
“Err. Yeah.”
“And it means: clear, pure and thoughtful child.”
“You did some research.”
“Not on all of them… Just the names that weren’t too bad and besides, it’s kinda cool, giving her a name that could actually protect her. Because that’s what this one does, supposedly.”
“Yeah, according to the myth, if you give this name to a child, or if you inscribe it somewhere, nothing bad or evil can come close or touch it. It’s from an old Japanese legend about this poor needlewoman whose parents had promised their first grandchild to a witch. When the needlewoman gets pregnant, she seeks the help of another witch who gives her a magical piece of fabric on which the woman has to embroider the name Sumiko once for each pregnancy month. And when her baby daughter is born she covers her with the magical fabric which disappears on her skin, like a fusion or something. So when the bad witch comes to claim her due, she barely has time to touch the child before she bursts into flames and dies.”
“Oh. Nice story. So… about that name?”
“You’re serious, you really like it?”
Dean shrugged as if it was nothing, but Sam could see the uncertainty on his face. “We could call her Sue as a nickname. To make the name more… American, I guess?”
“Yeah… Sue Winchester. I kinda like it.”
“Really? ‘Cause we don’t have to.”
“No. I’m being serious, Dean. Sue. Sumiko Winchester. It sounds good.”
Dean’s smile was tentative. “So what? It’s settled, then?”
“I guess it is.”
To be honest, Sam wasn’t sure if he really did like the name, but the subject seemed important to Dean and after all, Dean was the one carrying the child. Sam figured that letting him choose the name was the least he could do. He was still trying to get used to it in his own head when Dean groaned and suddenly bent down, hands clutching at his stomach.
“Dean?”
“Holy shit… Fuck. Fuck, Sam. It hurts,” Dean moaned, short of breath.
“Is it a contraction?”
“How am I supposed to know?” Dean snapped in a raspy voice. “It… it kinda feels like last time.”
“Yeah, ok, I’m calling Rania.”
The next minutes went by in a blur. Then, once again, Sam was driving a bit too fast, looking into the rearview mirror way too often, as Dean lay back on the seat, in pain and scared. Sam was just as scared.
Previous
Next
Back to Masterpost