Supernatural. Prompts: 72-tenderfoot, 51-impertinent, 2-raucous, 14-lunar, 21- fervor
Title: Just You and Me
Author: my_sam_dean
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing/character: Dean, Sam
Rating: R
Prompt: 72 - tenderfoot - 100 prompts for thought
Notes/Warnings: I own nothing.
Dean looked over at his brother, not liking his pale color. Sam didn't respond to his questions exactly, but he'd make noises to indicate his discomfort. Whenever Sammy wouldn't talk, it was bad.
They'd had what they thought was a run of the mill poltergeist, and they'd been wrong. It was a sneaky sucker and had confused both boys once they were in the home. Dean was scolding himself for not being more prepared before Sam was even attacked. Once they crossed from what they expected into surprise, he'd felt responsible for the lack of information.
He was used to speeding down the road in the Impala. He and Sam were good hunters, and they were careful, but they still got injured. It was just part of the job. But, most of the time, Sam was quite verbal and giving Dean feedback. Sam asked just as many questions when Dean was hurt and they knew what information was needed to access their situation and get appropriate treatment. Sam's silence was unnerving.
In the parking lot, he tried not to squeal to a stop. He didn't want to attract attention but he was in a hurry to get Sam inside and check him over. When the car jolted to a halt, Sam didn't even complain. He jerked in his seat but didn't respond otherwise.
"Come on," Dean tried to coax Sam out of the car and into their motel. "We're real close. You can rest when we get inside." Sam didn't even open his eyes. Dean bent his knees and then hooked his arm under Sam's and around his back. "Up on three. One, two, three! Ugh! Help me out here a little, man!"
Sam barely lifted himself from the passenger seat. It was a small movement, but it was showed that he could obey orders and offered a good sign about Sam's mental condition. He started to fall forward when his feet tangled together. His world was spinning and he had no chance of keeping up.
"On your feet!"
The muddled man tried to comply. It was ingrained in him that Dean knew best.
"Almost there. Through the door, Sammy. Just a little further."
Balancing Sam and operating the lock proved difficult but not impossible. Dean used some choice four letter words before the door swung open. He shuffled inside, trying to get the both of them through the threshold.
Sam's boots scuffed along the carpet slowly until Dean set him on the bed furthest from the door.
"Where's?" Sam mumbled.
"The monster? I got him and then saved your ass. Up on the bed, big guy." Dean swung Sam's legs up on the bed and got his boots off. "Stay with me, Sam."
He methodically removed Sam's clothes until he was stripped to his boxers. He ran his hands over Sam's skin, looking for cuts and broken bones. He had abrasions from where he'd hit but nothing that needed stitching. Bruises were already starting to form and Dean knew they would hurt like hell.
"You really cracked that big head of yours," Dean commented as he felt the goose egg forming on Sam's skull. "Luckily, I dropped you a time or two as a baby so I know you can handle it."
"Dean," Sam feebly tried to bat Dean's hands away from his head. Dean had no problem avoiding the half-hearted blows.
"Almost done." He laid Sam's head back on the pillow. "Just that one huge knot. Looks like you'll be fine. You've knocked yourself goofy, but otherwise okay."
Sam drifted off when Dean went to get ice.
***
In Sam's mind, he traveled back in time to when he had the flu shortly after he'd moved in with Jessica. He was a tough guy and could take a lot but when he was attacked with the high fever and chills, he was at the virus's mercy.
Jessica had tried to 'mother' him in the beginning when Sam was grumpy and refused her help. When he thought back to whenever he'd been sick before, Dean had taken care of him. He remembered worrying about John when he as gone, but he never cried for him as he did for Dean.
Once he was too miserable to do much more than breathe, he happily accepted Jessica's offer of Tylenol. He didn't fight when Jessica helped him out of his drenched t-shirt and jogging pants. He shivered when the air hit his sweaty skin.
Jessica watched him toss and turn. She ran a washcloth over his skin when he was too warm, and covered him with a sheet when he shivered. While he was in and out of consciousness, Jessica never left his side.
She took very good care of him. He couldn't fault anything she did. But, she wasn't Dean. She didn't have his certain TLC that Sam was used to and responded to best.
When she took sick after catching the bug from him, Sam felt awful but knew how to care for her since he’d been the only one around to tend to Dean when he was sick. He hated the feverish look on her face and the dull glaze of her eyes when she wasn’t making any sense. He really appreciated her more after that ordeal.
***
"Oww," Sam rolled over, away from the small rays of light coming through the bathroom door that was ajar. The light hurt his eyes and switching sides made him feel disoriented.
"Sam?" Dean shot out of bed. He brushed Sam's hair back from his face and noticed how damp it was. "Shit. You're soaked."
Sam moaned and moved away from Dean's touch, his eyes still squeezed shut to block out the light.
"Be right back." He returned with a washcloth and wiped the sweat from Sam's face and neck. Sam fought him at first, then relaxed when he realized what Dean was doing.
"Hurts."
"I bet. Think you can swallow some Tylenol for me?"
There was a brief pause before Sam answered, "Yeah."
Dean propped Sam up so he could place the pills on Sam's tongue and give him some water. "Swallow." He moved the glass away and asked, "Need more?"
Sam nodded and immediately regretted it. Dean steadied him until he got his bearings.
One more sip and Dean set the liquid aside. He eased Sam back down and removed some of the covers. He wanted Sam to cool off but not so quickly that he got a chill.
"I should be used to this," Dean chuckled. "Every childhood illness and hunting injury I went through with you? It doesn't make it any easier to see you in pain." Dean said sadly, "You're all I've got, Sammy. It's just me and you. I guess it's always been that way for the most part . . . Now, there really is nobody else left. What am I going to do?"
Trying to shake the melancholy feeling, Dean wet the washcloth again, rung it out and ran it over Sam. "You'll keep me on my toes. Always have. Pain in the ass little brother."
Hearing the fondness in Dean's voice, the corners of Sam's mouth turned up just a little. It was only Dean and him left. But, Dean was all he needed. They were going to be okay.
***
Sam ripped off his shirts and tore them into bandages. They were deep in the woods and Dean had been slashed by a wendigo. He took his belt off and used it as a tourniquet on Dean’s leg. Apologizing to Dean, Sam hoisted him into a fireman carry and hurried back to the car.
Dean’s injured leg was jolted each time Sam stepped. The one thing Sam had working in his favor was that Dean was unconscious. The one thing that Sam had working against him in the long run was that Dean was unconscious. Rotten Winchester luck.
The light was fading fast and Sam hoped he was headed in the right direction to get them to the Impala and back to the motel. He started to huff when Dean got heavy but kept up his pace. He felt like he could finally breathe freely again when he saw the distinctive outline of the Impala. Safety was in sight.
He laid Dean on the backseat. Some of the bandages had moved but he didn’t take the time to retie them. He checked the belt because that was the most important. The wendigo’s claws had nicked Dean’s femoral artery and Sam needed to get the bleeding stopped pronto.
Gunning the engine, Sam raced to the motel. He talked to Dean the whole way, more out of nervousness than anything else. Dean didn’t reply at all. When they arrived at the motel, he was still unresponsive.
The parking lot was half full with cars but no one was wandering outside their room. Sam was able to carry his bleeding bundle into their room without anyone spotting them and calling the cops. Given that Dean was still a wanted man, the law had to be avoided at all costs.
After Dean was lying on his bed, Sam ran to get the first aid kit. He cut Dean’s jeans off by slicing each leg to the waist. He quickly scrubbed his hands so he could investigate further to see what Dean needed.
The first thing he had to do was clean that cut on the femoral line and stitch it up. He could only leave the belt tight around Dean’s upper thigh for so long before he had to worry about causing damage.
Every so often, Sam asked Dean a question to see if he’d respond. Otherwise, the room was filled with Sam’s panicked chatter. He ran on about anything he could think of. Part of him expected Dean to wake up just to tell him to be quiet.
When the first set of stitches was complete and Sam was satisfied that they would hold, he loosened the belt. He moved on to the next area that required stitches but kept an eye on those first ones.
Dean was not going to be happy when he woke. The wendigo had almost rid him of his family jewels and Sam had demolished his favorite pair of jeans. Sam decided that he’d just be happy that Dean was able to rip him a new one when the time came.
“I’m going to roll you now,” Sam told Dean. “I’ll get the jeans untangled and throw them away. The arterial stitches are holding steady. Your shirt is going to have to go. I’ll cut it along the seams so you can fix it if you want to, but I’m not chancing any movement that could jeopardize those stitches.”
Once the Metallica shirt was reduced to no more than a rag, Sam was able to see the scrapes and bruising from where Dean had hit the ground. They were spots that were going to hurt but at least the claws had only done damage to his legs.
Sam filled a syringe with a strong antibiotic. Dean hated needles and would complain until he’d finished the course of these intravenous drugs but they were the strongest they had and Sam wasn’t leaving anything to chance. He wanted to give Dean something for the pain, but Dean had to wake up first so Sam could assess him for severe head injury.
“You’re going to feel a little sting,” he told his unconscious brother before injecting him with the medication. “All done.” Sam threw the needle away and fetched a washcloth and bowl of soapy water. He sat down on the edge of the bed after putting towels around Dean. “Now it’s time to wash the rest of you off.”
He worked in sections. Once he’d cleaned the dirt and grime away, he toweled that part off and moved on to the next one. Every time he finished one area, he checked the crucial stitches. They weren’t the only stitches Dean had on his legs, but they were the most critical..
Satisfied that Dean was as clean as he was before the hunt, he took care of his supplies. The last thing he did before turning out the light was to cover Dean up and put ice where the belt had been. It wouldn’t do much for the pain but it would help swelling.
The next chore was to get Sam himself cleaned up. It took twice as long as it should have because he kept checking on Dean, but Sam got washed and Dean was still out, so it was a success. Sam fired up his trusty laptop and did some research on blood loss and loss of consciousness. He already had a library in his brain that covered those topics, but he wanted to be sure that he wasn’t missing anything.
Dean’s groan made Sam jump. It was loud in the silence of the room. Sam snapped his computer shut and went to Dean.
“Open your eyes for me,” Sam told him. “I know you’re hurting. After you answer some questions, I can give you a painkiller. First you have to open those eyes of yours.”
Dean laid still for a minute. Then, he groaned again. Sam held Dean’s face in his hands. “Look at me, Dean. You need to open your eyes now.”
His lashes fluttered and then stopped.
“Almost,” Sam encouraged him. “You have to open them long enough to look at me.”
The next time they fluttered, they opened a slit, and then a little more.
“Good,” Sam smiled. He checked Dean’s pupils and asked, “What were we hunting?”
“Wen . . . Wen.”
“Wendigo. Right. What year is it?”
“2007,” Dean replied.
“That’s enough. I’ll get the narcotics.” Sam loaded another syringe. “You’re going to feel a poke.” He withdrew the needle and was met with Dean’s glare. “They’re strong and work quick. Next time you can pick out your own pain meds if you stay conscious. That’s the deal.”
Dean closed his eyes, but he was just resting. Sam could tell my his breathing that he hadn’t fallen asleep.
“He got you in the legs,” Sam explained the extent of Dean’s injuries. “The worst part was when he got your artery, but I think that it’s stitched up fine. You have stitches on both legs, mostly your thighs. Your back is beat up from your fall, but you probably won’t even notice that over the sutures on the cut where he almost took your manhood.”
Dean’s eyes popped open.
“You’re still intact, don’t worry.” Sam should have known that a comment like that would get Dean’s full attention.
Satisfied that Sam was telling the truth because no guy alive would joke about something like that, Dean fell back to sleep.
He dreamed of when he was little, before the fire. He’d been sick with a cold, and Mary had sat and colored with him between the fluids of all sorts that she tried to get him to drink. She let him lean into her, curled up under a blanket, while she read him his favorite book Even though he was sick, Dean had still felt pampered.
Mary made his favorite foods when he started feeling better. John had grumbled over the supper table and Mary had given him what for. Unbeknownst to Dean, Mary was pregnant with Sam and not feeling so well herself. She could take care of a sick child but her patience drew the line at a complaining husband.
“Hey, Jude,” Mary sang softly to him while he was trying to fall asleep. He had her lullaby memorized and still heard it in his head whenever he was hurt or upset. He treasured the connection that he still had with her.
But, she was dead and Dad was gone. The only reason he was still alive was Sammy.
“Wake up, Dean,” Sam was in his face. “You need to drink something, stay hydrated. I’ll pick up some energy bars across the street when it opens in the morning. We’ll keep your diet simple but you still need your fluids. I’m not sure how much blood you lost, but it’s more than I’m comfortable with.”
After taking a drink, Dean realized that the cool water was better than any 80’s rock song. He wanted to finish the glass, but Sam took it away. He told Dean he could only have a little at a time.
Dean scowled. He was the big brother. Sam was supposed to be following his orders, not the other way around.
“Give me that stubborn look of yours all you want,” Sam told him. “It doesn’t hurt me any. I’m still not letting you drink yourself into puking and losing what you have gotten down.”
“Sing to me,” Dean said slowly.
“I can’t sing, Dean. You know that. Want me to turn on the radio?”
“No.” Dean felt as if he was going to cry. “Miss Mom.”
Sam’s heart broke a little for him. He ran his fingers through Dean’s hair as he spoke. “I do, too. She must have sang to you when you were sick, right? It’s great that you can remember that. I’m thankful for the short time you had with her. She must have taught you how folks should be cared for because I know you didn’t get your bedside manner from Dad.”
That earned Sam a smile.
“When I got sick at college, Jess took good care of me. It wasn’t the same, though. It bothered me because it wasn’t you. Must be like how you miss Mom more when you’re hurt. Everyone has that someone who can make it all better.”
“It’s just me and you.”
“Yeah,” Sam agreed. “That’s okay, though. In certain ways, I think it’s always just been the two of us.”
Dean didn’t get to voice his agreement before sleep dragged him under.
“I wish I could remember Mom,” Sam spoke softly as he continued stroke Dean’s hair. “When I try to picture Mom, I see you. It’s not a bad thing. I just don’t have a hole in my heart where she used to be.”
Sam stopped his hand movements and sighed. He was tired. It had been a long day and the light of the next one was already coming in the curtains.
They were a team, just as they’d always been at school and on hunts. They had all they needed to handle whatever life decided to throw at them--each other.
Title: A Difficult Birth
Author: my_sam_dean
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing/character: Dean, Sam, John
Rating: R
Prompt: 51 - impertinent - 100 prompts for thought
Notes/Warnings: Warnings: non-con, mpreg, possession
Dean and John were just getting out of the Impala when they heard a scream from inside their run-down home. They quickly glanced at each other.
"Sammy!" Dean yelled as he and John pounded up the steps and broke through the locked door. Frantically searching, Dean was the first to find Sam lying on the kitchen floor. "In here!" he called over his shoulder to their father.
When Dean looked closer at Sam, he saw the pained lines on his face. His jogging pants were pulled down his thighs. There were various objects on the floor around him.
"What happened?" He brushed Sam's sweaty hair back from his face.
"It's time," was all Sam got out before he whimpered and couldn't talk any further.
Dean's mind went into protective brother mode. Sam hadn't noticed John standing just outside the kitchen and he needed to keep Sam calm. Even though Sam knew John had been possessed when he'd forced himself on Sam, he was uneasy around him. John, on the other hand, had no memory of being possessed and thought that a stranger had attacked his little boy. When Dean was able to comfort Sam and get him to calm down so quickly when all of John's fumbling attempts failed, he'd assumed it was because of their close relationship. He was a strict father, but he never wanted his boys to be terrified of him.
"I'm taking you to your room," Dean pulled Sam's sweats up and picked him up with an arm around his back and under his knees. John stepped out of the way and didn't make a noise. Sam had his eyes closed with his face pressed into Dean's chest and didn't see him standing there.
Partway to Sam's room, his whole body tensed and he let out a hollow whine. He was trying to find some relief but didn't want to throw himself out of Dean's arms. "Almost there. Just a minute."
Without pausing to turn on the light, Dean made his way to Sam's bed and laid him upon it. He'd pulled all the covers out of the way so Sam was just lying on the pillow.
"How did it start, Sam? What were you doing in the kitchen?" Dean bent in close to Sam so that Sam had to pay attention to him.
"Hurts," Sam hissed. "Thought it would be better if I could open myself up. Get it over with quicker." The tips of Sam's ears was bright red and he turned his face away.
Dean pushed Sam's cheek until they once again had eye contact. "Did you injure yourself with the objects you used?"
"Don't think so. Just hurts." Sam's eyes slammed shut as he groaned and curled in on himself.
John was standing in the doorway of the room and Dean didn't want Sam to register his presence.
"I'll be right back," he told Sam before he pushed John out into the hall and down the stairs. "He's in labor. I think it's best if you stay down here."
"Why? What do you know about giving birth? At least I was with your mother."
"I'm the one who's been helping Sam throughout the pregnancy. There's embarrassing shit that creeps up and I've handled it with him. I think giving birth falls into that category." Dean could tell that John was trying to think of a rebuttal. "I'd say we could bring him into the hospital, but with the bad experience he had and the fact that he'd underage, he'd be pressed to relive the event in order for the police to chase the guy down."
"He's avoided doctors all this time, hasn't he?"
"Yes," Dean admitted. "He didn't want to get asked questions he didn't have an answer to and he didn't want the baby to be taken away." Dean paused for a moment. "I need you to gather up some supplies for me. Then, can you just wait in the hall in case you're needed? Don't let Sam see you, just be in ear shot if I yell."
"Sure, Dean. What do you need?"
***
"Thought I could make you more comfortable," Dean told Sam when he re-entered the room.
Sam slit his eyes open to see Dean with his arms full of towels and who knew what else.
"The pants will have to come off, Sam. Then, we'll lay some towels underneath you and you can cover up with the sheet."
"Wh-where's Dad?" Sam whispered.
"Not here," Dean faked a smile. "It's just us. It's okay."
"No doctors, Dean. Promise."
"No doctors unless your life is in danger, Sam. I promise that you would be so out of it that you wouldn't even notice the doctors if I brought you in. We'll be fine, but I'm not going to make a promise that I might not be able to keep."
"I want the baby."
"I know. Me, too."
Between pains, he slid off Sam's boxers and underwear. He covered the bottom of the bed and pulled the thin sheet over Sam, who was self-conscious enough to be trying to cover himself. Dean pulled the cover all the way up to his chin to make him feel better.
"Good for now?"
Sam nodded.
"When you tried to loosen things up, did it help?"
He shrugged.
"I'm going to check to see if you're dilating." Dean produced lube from thin air. "I need you to bend your knees, Sammy."
Sam didn't move.
Dean tugged at the sheet at the foot of the bed and lifted it. He urged Sam to shift his legs, which he did, but he kept his head turned away and eyes closed tight. Dean knew he was pretending he was somewhere else and let it be. Sam deserved an escape.
His wet finger moved around Sam's opening. Two fingers went in without any resistance. Dean was quick to remove his hand, lower Sam's legs and return the sheet to its original position.
"You're body's acting the way it should," Dean spoke quietly as he fished Sam's hand from under the covers and held it. "All we can do is wait for nature to take it's course. Then, this will all be over."
"No, it won't." Sam's voice could barely be heard and if Dean hadn't been so close, he would have missed it. "I still have nightmares."
The damn dreams had kept Dean up, too, because he was trying to comfort Sam. Sometimes, Sam didn't wake from them, he just seemed to move on to a good dream. Dean, however, remembered every single time.
"I know. Think you can rest a little?"
An uncommitted noise was all Sam made.
"I just need to go downstairs for a minute. Get some water and a couple books to read to you."
Sam nodded and Dean exited the room. John was sitting right there in the hall. Dean hoped that he hadn't heard about the nightmares. He'd hate for his father to find out that he was the cause of Sam's pain.
"New plan," Dean told him. "Wait downstairs. Sammy's embarrassed and wants it to be just the two of us. We've got to keep his stress level down." He was surprised when John acquiesced. He took up doing research at the kitchen table.
Dean sighed and rubbed at his temples. He had one hell of a headache coming on and knew it was all tension related. He was convinced that once they made it through the birth, it would get better.
***
Dozing, Sam listened to Dean's voice between periods of sleep. When contractions came, he dealt with them best he could and let Dean's words lull him back to peacefulness.
As Sam's discomfort grew, so did Dean's anxiety. All that was keeping him sane was that he knew John was there if they needed him. Sam's sanity was based on the fact that it was just him and Dean and John was nowhere nearby (as far as he knew).
"Something's wrong," Sam panted. "I could feel the baby moving down the canal and it's like it's stuck."
"It can't be stuck. Maybe it just needs a few more contractions to help push it through."
Half an hour later, Dean was ready to concede that the baby could indeed be stuck. "Let me try to see where the baby's at." He moved Sam onto his back and felt his opening that had grown in size. He used lots of lube to make sure he wouldn't cause Sam any unnecessary pain. It took a little bit of work, but Dean was able to reach far enough in to feel the baby's head. He had his fingers scrunched together to make the tight squeeze, but all of them fit. He was so thankful that he hands weren't as huge as Sam's or his dad's. "The baby's right there, Sam. Try another hard push with the next contraction."
Sam did. Sweat was pouring down his face. His body shook with the effort to push. "I can't," Sam sounded heartbroken.
Taking in Sam's pale face, Dean assessed the situation once more. Whereas before there had been fluid in the channel, now there was bright blood. Dean tried to stay calm.
He grabbed Sam's hands in his. "Sam, I don't know what to do. You're bleeding and I know my hand won't be able to pull the baby out. Either we go in to the doctors or Dad needs to try get the baby moving."
"No! No!"
"I'm not going to let you bleed out. I don't even know why you're bleeding! I'm telling you to pick!"
Sam quit yelling and disappeared into his head. He didn't answer any more of Dean's questions. Dean decided for him.
John wasted no time getting scrubbed up. He sat down on the side of the bed and that's when Sam came back to the land of the living. Luckily, Dean had already gathered Sam in his arms and was murmuring words into his ear to help keep him calm.
"Sam," John had a calm but stern sound to his voice. "I'm here to help you and you're going to let me." He flung the sheet back and tried to gain entrance to Sam's opening. His hand wouldn't fit. "It's okay," he used the same tone. "We just need to stretch it out."
Sam's sobs were muffled in Dean's shirt. His legs twitched and shook. It took all he had not to push them together and decide on the doctors instead. Just the threat of child services kept him on that bed.
Slowly working his fingers in, John was sad to see how broken up Sam was. Even after the attack, Sam didn't let John check over his injuries. He'd felt so helpless then and he felt even worse now that he knew just his presence was like being violated all over again. Didn't the kid understand that John loved him and just wanted to help?
"I'm going to try my whole hand now," John warned. "If you get a contraction or need to push, that's fine, but I'm not going to take my hand out. I'll be still until it's over but I don't want to throw away any progress we've made."
Dean nodded his understanding while Sam was lost in a sea of pain. Ever so slowly, his hand crept further in. John gave a sigh of relief when he found the baby's head. He gripped Sam's knee with his other hand to get his attention.
"On your next contraction, I'm going to help you ease the baby out." John found himself once again talking to Dean instead of Sam. He moved his spare hand to Sam's belly to see if he could somehow help push on that end, too.
Crying out, Sam pushed as hard as he could. Dean struggled to keep Sam on the bed. John applied pressure to Sam's abdomen and gently tugged on the skull that fit in his hand. Ever so slowly, the baby inched down.
With John and Dean shouting words of encouragement, Sam gave a final push and brought his son into the world. He was overcome with joy. Without the intense pain, he was more aware of John being at the 'action' end of the bed and tried to curl his legs to one side until John went away.
"Whoa," John caught Sam's knees right before they touched. "There's still a placenta in there, son. You and Dean check the baby and I'll tend to this."
"Come on, Sam," Dean encouraged him. "It's just Dad. Only Dad. Really just Dad."
Sam allowed John to continue. Luckily, John didn't hear Dean's words or he would have had plenty of questions.
Once the placenta was expelled, John glanced at the baby long enough to know he was healthy, and left with the soiled linens.
"Dad didn't hurt you, did he, Sam?" Dean didn't look Sam in the eye because he was staring at the baby.
"No."
"Before, that wasn't Dad. Somehow, you have to know that."
"I do. I hate that I was so vulnerable when he came in to help today. I should have been able to just accept him. He hadn't hurt me since that one time."
"He won't hurt you again," Dean said. "But, he can never know that this is his son. No matter how mad you get at him, you can't throw it in his face. It would kill him inside."
"I know. I won't." Sam's eyes drooped.
"I'll take pipsqueak downstairs and clean him up. Rest for awhile, okay?"
"I'm tired." Sam slurred.
"That's how this works." Dean kissed Sam's forehead. "You did a wonderful job, Sammy. I'm proud of you."
It was that burning sense of pride that followed Sam into his slumber. He'd been strong over the months since the incident and now that the baby was here, maybe he could concentrate on seeing John in the role of a grandfather instead of the dreaded yellow-eyed demon.
Title: The Gay Club
Author: my_sam_dean
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing/character: Sam/Dean
Rating: R
Prompt: 2 - raucous - 100 prompts for thought
Notes/Warnings: slash, incest
Hunt finished, the Winchesters were allowed to just unwind. Having a gay club nearby was a real treat, which meant Dean decided he had to go. In turn, Sam had no way out of going because there was no way he was going to send Dean out on his own. He might not be the most jealous man, but he didn't want anyone else dancing with Dean.
After Dean finished laughing at Sam for being suck a stick in the mud, he talked him into getting a steak supper before going out. Alcohol could be a dangerous thing on an empty stomach and Dean wanted to be able to drink and unwind once they made it to the club.
Sam tried to drag his feet at supper. Dean, as usual, inhaled his food. Then, he asked Sam if he was going to finish his plate. The younger brother wrapped an arm around his meal and Dean took the hint.
The dark building had laser lights cutting through the blackness. The strobe lights made it difficult to clearly see anything, which was the point with the almost obscene dancing going on.
The air in the club was humid. The pulsating music was too loud to talk over. Sam and Dean didn't need words, they knew each other too well. All those years of sparring, hunting and living in close quarters made them able to read each other's every move.
One drink. Two drinks. Sam was feeling fine. He was ready to dance and dragged Dean out on the floor. Dean smiled at Sam's being a lightweight and was thankful for the fact at that point.
A drunk Sammy was a clingy one. He left no space between them as he began to grind his pelvis against Dean's. Making sure to keep Sam upright, Dean returned the gesture. When it got too warm, they took off their shirts and tucked them in the back of their jeans. The shirts accentuated their movements. Some patrons stopped to watch them writhe. The couple was oblivious to their audience.
Dean needed Sam. It was as simple as that. He held Sam's cheek as he kissed him and slid his tongue inside. Sam was a good dancer, but Dean was an even better kisser. They stopped moving their feet and let their lips convey their passion. Not so quiet moans and groans were covered up by the pounding beat. The folks whose attention they caught earlier still stared. Some wished they were in Sam or Dean’s position. Others grabbed the person next to them and started their own entertainment.
Breathing the same air and lost in sensations, the pair had created their own little world. Their lives existed with monsters, curses and demons. It was only fair that they had some pleasurable things, too.
Everyone could just see bits and pieces of their relationship from the outside looking in. Their wild imaginations filled in the blanks. That's what the sight of two hot boys in love will do.
Title: Let Me Make it Better
Author: my_sam_dean
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing/character: Sam/Jess
Rating: R
Prompt: 14 - lunar - 100 prompts for thought
Notes/Warnings: warnings: explicit fingering
Sam entered the apartment and hurt just from looking at Jessica. She was miserable, curled up on the couch with a heating pad. The television was blaring some program but she didn't seem to be paying it any attention. She was shifting around, trying to get as comfortable as she could.
Every month she went through this and Sam felt like crap each time because there was nothing he could do to ease her suffering. Luckily, he'd quit trying to think of something to make her feel better and decided to look for something instead. The internet could be a man's best friend.
After dropping his backpack by the door and slipping off his shoes, he approached her. She was so lost in her misery that she didn't even notice him until he was right next to her.
"How ya feeling?" Sam knelt down and tried to give her a small smile.
"Oh, you know . . . " she shrugged and knew that was all the answer she needed to give.
"How long have you been sitting here? Have you eaten?"
Jessica groaned, "Don't mention food."
"Sorry, babe," Sam kissed her forehead as he mentally catalogued all the items in arm's reach. "Does anything help?"
"I wish. Did you finish your paper?"
He nodded and motioned for her to make room for him. She slid so she was between Sam and the back of the couch. Sam stayed propped up on one elbow and looked down her body as he slid his hand under her shirt to gently rub at her belly. Jessica made a noise that could have been good or bad.
"Is this okay?"
"I don't know," she squirmed a little as she thought about his question. "It's not bad."
While those words weren't a ringing endorsement, Sam was still encouraged to put his new knowledge to work.
"I have an idea. It might make you feel better."
"Really? What?"
"It works much better if I just show you," he lazily pressed his lips to hers. "Wanna?"
Confused, she gave a little nod because she knew her boyfriend wouldn't do anything to cause her harm.
"Good." He quickly unbuttoned her jeans and she made no protest until he'd also hooked his fingers under her panties. "Trust me," he whispered before he slid her clothes down and pulled them off her feet.
Jessica was blushing. She'd quickly gripped her knees together and rested her legs to the side in an attempt to hide herself from him. Realizing how vulnerable she must feel, especially with being in their large room that combined the entry, kitchen and living room, he grabbed the blanket from the backrest and spread it over her as he crept up to her level.
"Is that better?"
"I can't just . . . I don't want to make a mess." She was torn between pleading with him to understand what she was getting at and just hiding her face.
"Just a minute." Sam sat up and stretched as he pulled his t-shirt over his head. He placed it under her hips. "Problem solved." He could tell she was still unsure, so he kept talking. "I learned something new today," He slid his hand under the covers rubbed her stomach in a circular motion.
She visibly relaxed a tiny bit.
Slowly, his palm worked its way further south. When he reached her curls, he ran his hand along the line where were thighs were pressed to each other. "Let me," he said softly as he looked into her eyes.
The tension faded minutely and he caressed her legs until he could apply a small pressure and part them. He kept touching the inside of her thighs until she opened further for him. She startled when he first brushed against her moist opening. He shushed her as he slipped a finger inside.
"Sam . . ."
"I've touched you here before," he said simply. "I've seen you all spread out underneath me when you can't wait to feel my body in yours. You've been splayed across the bed when we're done and too sated to actually get under the blankets." He watched her face as he varied the pressure and movements to her core.
Her eyes were locked with his when her breaths quickened and she flushed. Moments stretched on as she climbed higher and higher to the peak that remained just out of reach. She had a tinge of fear in her gaze when she wondered if relief was in sight or if she was going to fly to pieces trying to achieve it.
An illigeble grunt escaped her throat as she moved one foot to the back of the couch. She was grinding on Sam's fingers, wanting and needing something that was just out of reach. She seemed to look to Sam for approval.
"Keep going," he told her.
Her hips were in constant motion, trying to guide Sam's touch to where he was needed most, yet not knowing exactly where that place was. Her throat was dry from panting and she gasped for air after attempting to swallow. She became frantic, making noises as she sought release. When her orgasm hit, it punched the rest of the air from her. She closed her eyes as she shook.
Sam stared at her intently until she opened her eyes. "Don't move." He rose to his feet and fetched a warm washcloth. Jessica was naked from the waist down, her covering had scrunched up as she'd moved. Sam lovingly cleaned her, pulled her bikini bottoms back on, moved the fleece so it covered her and gathered her in his arms.
"Thanks," she mumbled into his shoulder.
"Better?"
She nodded and curled further into his embrace.
"I'm glad." He settled down into the cushions, preparing for a nap. "I love you, Jess."
"I know," she whispered. "I love you, too."
The apartment fell quiet and its occupants slept, nestled together on the narrow furniture and blissfully unaware of anything besides the two of them.
Title: Love Has Many Forms, Part 1
Author: my_sam_dean
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing/character: Dean, Sam
Rating: R
Prompt: 21 - fervor - 100 prompts for thought
Notes/Warnings: None
Dean had the shovel over one shoulder and the duffel over the other. What had started out as an unseasonably cool, misty fall evening had turned into a thunderstorm with driving rain. His hair was plastered to his scalp. Rain rolled down his neck and invaded the warmth under his leather jacket.
Visibility was low on the way to the motel. He had to make a real effort to keep his speed down when all he wanted was a hot shower and sleep. His droopy eyes peered through the rain, thankful to see the rundown motel sign with only the letters 'o' and 'l' lit up.
Desperately trying to get rid of the chill under the water that never got warmer than tepid and had lousy shower pressure, Dean shifted from foot to foot as he rubbed his hands on his arms.
"Come on, come on." Dean scowled at the showerhead and the water turned ice cold in revenge. "Shit!" He leapt out of the tub so fast that he stumbled and tore part of the shower curtain.
Shivering was supposed help his body warm up. Dean knew it as a fact. Their father had hammered first aid into both him and Sam. At the moment, the movement didn't seem to be helping Dean. He dried off as best he could, bundled up in his warmest sweat suit and thick socks, and huddled under the covers.
As he laid there in the dark, he knew he hadn't been eating enough of the right foods. He hadn't been sleeping enough and he'd spent too much time running on empty. It was going to catch up with him. If he could just fall asleep, he'd take better care of himself starting tomorrow. He could sleep in, find a grocery store and actually use the small fridge and microwave that came with the room. Well, he'd have to bleach them out first.
The shrill sound of his cell phone ripped Dean from his peaceful slumber. He slapped at the nightstand, finding his phone just before it vibrated onto the phone.
"Yeah?" he cleared his throat when it came out at as croak.
"Who am I speaking with?" a woman asked him.
Dean sat up and turned on the lamp. One look at his watch told him that he'd only been asleep for two hours. He didn't have long before the sun would cut through the cheap curtains. "Do you know what time it is, lady?"
"Almost four o'clock." She was all business. "Can I get your name, please?"
He glanced at his ID and it read 'Unavailable'. "Who the hell is this?"
"Nurse Lacy from County General."
"Is Sam hurt?" Dean hadn't seen him for a year but that didn't change how he felt about the kid.
"I don't know any Sam. If you'll be patient with me and answer my questions, I'll be able to tell you more information sooner."
"Dean. Dean Winchester."
"What do you drive?"
"1967 Chevy Impala."
"What color?"
"Black. Why?"
“I was given your number by Tami Carr. She was able to give me just a few details about you.”
“Okay. Why did she need to call me?”
“She didn’t want to call you. She’s in labor and is going to sign away her rights. The baby can’t be given up for adoption unless you’ve signed the papers, too. That’s why I’m calling.”
“She’s in labor?”
“Yes. She says you’re the father.” Silence. “Hello?”
“I’m here. I mean, I’ll be there. To get the baby.”
“So, you’re not going to sign away your rights?”
“No. I’ll . . . what do I need to bring?”
“Just yourself.”
“I’m on my way. Don’t let anyone take my baby. I’m coming.”
“We don’t make a habit of that,” Nurse Lacy’s heart felt lighter after hearing how happy Dean was at the news. “Drive careful.”
After shutting his phone, Dean copied the number and address of the hospital into his journal just in case the slip in his wallet got lost. He rolled his stiff shoulders and tried to crack his neck. Groaning, he twisted and turned until he made his neck and back worse than it was before.
If he could just drink enough coffee to make it through four states to the hospital, he’d be happy. After that, he could worry about purchasing baby items and selecting a place to stay. Oh, he'd have to get that extra rest somewhere in there, too.
000000
The weather didn’t warm up as the sun rose. More dark clouds rolled in and icy drizzle that turned to a pounding torrent in a heartbeat were in the imminent future. At the last Gas Stop/Convenience Store, Dean was able to find replacement wiper blades, and bags of snacks that at least resembled real foods. The dehydrated apple chips and spicy jerky (not the kind conformed to a tube) weren’t bad. A couple bottles of cola gave him a break from coffee.
He was getting closer and closer to the hospital. Doubts were beginning to pop up in his head. Was he ready to be a dad? How bad would hunting screw up a kid? In the case of their dad with he and Sam, how had that one turned out? Was it better to stay with family or would they have been better off placed somewhere else?
All Dean knew from a young age was to look out for his little brother. The word ‘family’ was used so often and never explained. When they were on hunts, they saw other families that had been ripped apart by something supernatural that the Winchesters were trying to kill or send away. Sometimes it brought peace to the family that had caught their attention to the problem in the first place. Most of the time, it just prevented the same tragedy from happening over and over.
Dean and Sam learned early on that family was who loved you. Bobby, Father Murphy, Harvelles, Caleb, Jefferson and Missouri were considered family.
Because he had been thrown into hunting at such a young age, there had been a couple of times when Dean had made contact with a small child who had been traumatized. He’d been patient and able to coax the child out of their shell. He wasn’t able to get answers from the kids but he could get breadcrumbs, and that was something.
He’d had a big part in raising Sammy and he never regretted spending time with his little brother instead of going out to find some friends his own age. They’d be moving on in a month or so, and it was easier to hang around Sam who already knew what hunts involved and how careful they had to be so that Child Protective Services didn’t take Dean and Sam away. Most kids thought living in a motel was cool. Dean just let the kids think that. He wanted to be the loner kid who no one bothered. If how they lived gave him some credibility, he'd take it. He'd be able to insure Sam's safety easier that way.
Sam had been a quick learner in anything he wanted to know about. Sometimes hunting fit in that category and other times it didn't. He devoured all that he could find about folklore and legends. When it came to training and bringing what he had read about into practical use in the field, he only went to try to keep Dean safe.
The one summer Sam played soccer, Dad hadn't been happy but he'd let them stay in one place. Both of them pled with him and promised to train extra hard if he allowed them those three months. Dean sat in the bleachers during practice and attended each game. On days when neither was scheduled, they completed training before the sun had enough time to make it too uncomfortable, napped during the hottest hours and practiced soccer in the empty lot until dark.
He'd heaped praise on Sam for studying. He was proud of Sam's grades, even as he had to leave Sam at the door of the school and then take his fake ID and try to hustle before class was out. Dean had known his academic career was non-existent but he wanted Sam to have options spread out before him. He later thought that Sam could have parted on better terms on his way to Stanford. It still felt like a physical injury when he remembered the anger in Sam's eyes directed at him. If he'd known what Sam had planned for that evening, he would have had arguments prepared for their dad. As it was, he had none. He could just stand there, dumbfounded, which Sam mistook as agreeing with the words shouted at him.
Day turned into night. He was getting closer and closer to a future that he was unsure of. He was twenty-three and had never learned how typical folks lived. Sure, he could pretend for a short period of time. That was all he'd been required to do. How was he going to not only convince a nurse that he was a responsible adult but also avoid any mistakes that might make her think he was weird and have social services check up on him? He couldn't just panic and break a baby out of a hospital. Could he? Didn't they have some kind of Lo-Jack on them these days?
Pulling into town, he made one last stop before his destination. He squinted in the dingy bathroom mirror and took a couple deep breaths. He could do this. He had to do this. He changed into his jeans with just a couple small holes and a white t-shirt. It was as good as he was going to look.
His heavy boots resounded on the tile floor. When he spotted the front desk, he flashed the young lady a smile. Then, he remembered he needed to blend in and be responsible, not charming. He toned down his smile.
"Sir? May I help you?"
"Yeah," his throat tightened up until he cleared it. "I received a call from Nurse Lacy. She asked me to come here."
"Nurse Lacy? I know her. Let me call, see if she's on tonight." After a short conversation, she hung up and turned back to Dean. "You're in luck. Nurse Lacy is working the overnight shift so she's just coming on duty. She's on her way down to meet you. Would you like to have a seat?"
After he shook his head, he tried not to pace. His heart was pounding out of his chest and he hoped no one could tell.
A matronly woman appeared. "Dean? This way, please."
"Nurse Lacy? How is . . . I mean, did everything go okay after we spoke? I didn't want to stop to call and check, I thought it would be better to just get here--" Dean fell into step with her and couldn't help his nervous flood of words.
She warmly smiled at him. "Everyone is healthy, don't you worry."
Freshly scrubbed and gowned up, Dean sat in the rocking chair surrounded by tiny beds with babies. It was a sea of pink and blue.
"These two have been waiting to meet you," Nurse Lacy pulled a bed bigger than the others over to Dean. "Your daughter is four minutes younger than your son."
"They're so small." Dean leaned closer but didn't reach toward them.
"Twins are a bit on the little side. There are two of them growing in a room built for one. It won't be long before they are just as big as the other babies here. But, we might need to keep them a couple extra days to get up to a weight where we're comfortable discharging them."
"Whatever is best for them. Wow. Twins."
"Would you like to hold them?"
"Really? Yeah."
The nurse put a pillow under each of Dean's arms before she laid the bundles in them. She took the first family picture. Dean was the proud, beaming father. Someone he never thought he'd ever get a chance to be.
Author: my_sam_dean
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing/character: Dean, Sam
Rating: R
Prompt: 72 - tenderfoot - 100 prompts for thought
Notes/Warnings: I own nothing.
Dean looked over at his brother, not liking his pale color. Sam didn't respond to his questions exactly, but he'd make noises to indicate his discomfort. Whenever Sammy wouldn't talk, it was bad.
They'd had what they thought was a run of the mill poltergeist, and they'd been wrong. It was a sneaky sucker and had confused both boys once they were in the home. Dean was scolding himself for not being more prepared before Sam was even attacked. Once they crossed from what they expected into surprise, he'd felt responsible for the lack of information.
He was used to speeding down the road in the Impala. He and Sam were good hunters, and they were careful, but they still got injured. It was just part of the job. But, most of the time, Sam was quite verbal and giving Dean feedback. Sam asked just as many questions when Dean was hurt and they knew what information was needed to access their situation and get appropriate treatment. Sam's silence was unnerving.
In the parking lot, he tried not to squeal to a stop. He didn't want to attract attention but he was in a hurry to get Sam inside and check him over. When the car jolted to a halt, Sam didn't even complain. He jerked in his seat but didn't respond otherwise.
"Come on," Dean tried to coax Sam out of the car and into their motel. "We're real close. You can rest when we get inside." Sam didn't even open his eyes. Dean bent his knees and then hooked his arm under Sam's and around his back. "Up on three. One, two, three! Ugh! Help me out here a little, man!"
Sam barely lifted himself from the passenger seat. It was a small movement, but it was showed that he could obey orders and offered a good sign about Sam's mental condition. He started to fall forward when his feet tangled together. His world was spinning and he had no chance of keeping up.
"On your feet!"
The muddled man tried to comply. It was ingrained in him that Dean knew best.
"Almost there. Through the door, Sammy. Just a little further."
Balancing Sam and operating the lock proved difficult but not impossible. Dean used some choice four letter words before the door swung open. He shuffled inside, trying to get the both of them through the threshold.
Sam's boots scuffed along the carpet slowly until Dean set him on the bed furthest from the door.
"Where's?" Sam mumbled.
"The monster? I got him and then saved your ass. Up on the bed, big guy." Dean swung Sam's legs up on the bed and got his boots off. "Stay with me, Sam."
He methodically removed Sam's clothes until he was stripped to his boxers. He ran his hands over Sam's skin, looking for cuts and broken bones. He had abrasions from where he'd hit but nothing that needed stitching. Bruises were already starting to form and Dean knew they would hurt like hell.
"You really cracked that big head of yours," Dean commented as he felt the goose egg forming on Sam's skull. "Luckily, I dropped you a time or two as a baby so I know you can handle it."
"Dean," Sam feebly tried to bat Dean's hands away from his head. Dean had no problem avoiding the half-hearted blows.
"Almost done." He laid Sam's head back on the pillow. "Just that one huge knot. Looks like you'll be fine. You've knocked yourself goofy, but otherwise okay."
Sam drifted off when Dean went to get ice.
***
In Sam's mind, he traveled back in time to when he had the flu shortly after he'd moved in with Jessica. He was a tough guy and could take a lot but when he was attacked with the high fever and chills, he was at the virus's mercy.
Jessica had tried to 'mother' him in the beginning when Sam was grumpy and refused her help. When he thought back to whenever he'd been sick before, Dean had taken care of him. He remembered worrying about John when he as gone, but he never cried for him as he did for Dean.
Once he was too miserable to do much more than breathe, he happily accepted Jessica's offer of Tylenol. He didn't fight when Jessica helped him out of his drenched t-shirt and jogging pants. He shivered when the air hit his sweaty skin.
Jessica watched him toss and turn. She ran a washcloth over his skin when he was too warm, and covered him with a sheet when he shivered. While he was in and out of consciousness, Jessica never left his side.
She took very good care of him. He couldn't fault anything she did. But, she wasn't Dean. She didn't have his certain TLC that Sam was used to and responded to best.
When she took sick after catching the bug from him, Sam felt awful but knew how to care for her since he’d been the only one around to tend to Dean when he was sick. He hated the feverish look on her face and the dull glaze of her eyes when she wasn’t making any sense. He really appreciated her more after that ordeal.
***
"Oww," Sam rolled over, away from the small rays of light coming through the bathroom door that was ajar. The light hurt his eyes and switching sides made him feel disoriented.
"Sam?" Dean shot out of bed. He brushed Sam's hair back from his face and noticed how damp it was. "Shit. You're soaked."
Sam moaned and moved away from Dean's touch, his eyes still squeezed shut to block out the light.
"Be right back." He returned with a washcloth and wiped the sweat from Sam's face and neck. Sam fought him at first, then relaxed when he realized what Dean was doing.
"Hurts."
"I bet. Think you can swallow some Tylenol for me?"
There was a brief pause before Sam answered, "Yeah."
Dean propped Sam up so he could place the pills on Sam's tongue and give him some water. "Swallow." He moved the glass away and asked, "Need more?"
Sam nodded and immediately regretted it. Dean steadied him until he got his bearings.
One more sip and Dean set the liquid aside. He eased Sam back down and removed some of the covers. He wanted Sam to cool off but not so quickly that he got a chill.
"I should be used to this," Dean chuckled. "Every childhood illness and hunting injury I went through with you? It doesn't make it any easier to see you in pain." Dean said sadly, "You're all I've got, Sammy. It's just me and you. I guess it's always been that way for the most part . . . Now, there really is nobody else left. What am I going to do?"
Trying to shake the melancholy feeling, Dean wet the washcloth again, rung it out and ran it over Sam. "You'll keep me on my toes. Always have. Pain in the ass little brother."
Hearing the fondness in Dean's voice, the corners of Sam's mouth turned up just a little. It was only Dean and him left. But, Dean was all he needed. They were going to be okay.
***
Sam ripped off his shirts and tore them into bandages. They were deep in the woods and Dean had been slashed by a wendigo. He took his belt off and used it as a tourniquet on Dean’s leg. Apologizing to Dean, Sam hoisted him into a fireman carry and hurried back to the car.
Dean’s injured leg was jolted each time Sam stepped. The one thing Sam had working in his favor was that Dean was unconscious. The one thing that Sam had working against him in the long run was that Dean was unconscious. Rotten Winchester luck.
The light was fading fast and Sam hoped he was headed in the right direction to get them to the Impala and back to the motel. He started to huff when Dean got heavy but kept up his pace. He felt like he could finally breathe freely again when he saw the distinctive outline of the Impala. Safety was in sight.
He laid Dean on the backseat. Some of the bandages had moved but he didn’t take the time to retie them. He checked the belt because that was the most important. The wendigo’s claws had nicked Dean’s femoral artery and Sam needed to get the bleeding stopped pronto.
Gunning the engine, Sam raced to the motel. He talked to Dean the whole way, more out of nervousness than anything else. Dean didn’t reply at all. When they arrived at the motel, he was still unresponsive.
The parking lot was half full with cars but no one was wandering outside their room. Sam was able to carry his bleeding bundle into their room without anyone spotting them and calling the cops. Given that Dean was still a wanted man, the law had to be avoided at all costs.
After Dean was lying on his bed, Sam ran to get the first aid kit. He cut Dean’s jeans off by slicing each leg to the waist. He quickly scrubbed his hands so he could investigate further to see what Dean needed.
The first thing he had to do was clean that cut on the femoral line and stitch it up. He could only leave the belt tight around Dean’s upper thigh for so long before he had to worry about causing damage.
Every so often, Sam asked Dean a question to see if he’d respond. Otherwise, the room was filled with Sam’s panicked chatter. He ran on about anything he could think of. Part of him expected Dean to wake up just to tell him to be quiet.
When the first set of stitches was complete and Sam was satisfied that they would hold, he loosened the belt. He moved on to the next area that required stitches but kept an eye on those first ones.
Dean was not going to be happy when he woke. The wendigo had almost rid him of his family jewels and Sam had demolished his favorite pair of jeans. Sam decided that he’d just be happy that Dean was able to rip him a new one when the time came.
“I’m going to roll you now,” Sam told Dean. “I’ll get the jeans untangled and throw them away. The arterial stitches are holding steady. Your shirt is going to have to go. I’ll cut it along the seams so you can fix it if you want to, but I’m not chancing any movement that could jeopardize those stitches.”
Once the Metallica shirt was reduced to no more than a rag, Sam was able to see the scrapes and bruising from where Dean had hit the ground. They were spots that were going to hurt but at least the claws had only done damage to his legs.
Sam filled a syringe with a strong antibiotic. Dean hated needles and would complain until he’d finished the course of these intravenous drugs but they were the strongest they had and Sam wasn’t leaving anything to chance. He wanted to give Dean something for the pain, but Dean had to wake up first so Sam could assess him for severe head injury.
“You’re going to feel a little sting,” he told his unconscious brother before injecting him with the medication. “All done.” Sam threw the needle away and fetched a washcloth and bowl of soapy water. He sat down on the edge of the bed after putting towels around Dean. “Now it’s time to wash the rest of you off.”
He worked in sections. Once he’d cleaned the dirt and grime away, he toweled that part off and moved on to the next one. Every time he finished one area, he checked the crucial stitches. They weren’t the only stitches Dean had on his legs, but they were the most critical..
Satisfied that Dean was as clean as he was before the hunt, he took care of his supplies. The last thing he did before turning out the light was to cover Dean up and put ice where the belt had been. It wouldn’t do much for the pain but it would help swelling.
The next chore was to get Sam himself cleaned up. It took twice as long as it should have because he kept checking on Dean, but Sam got washed and Dean was still out, so it was a success. Sam fired up his trusty laptop and did some research on blood loss and loss of consciousness. He already had a library in his brain that covered those topics, but he wanted to be sure that he wasn’t missing anything.
Dean’s groan made Sam jump. It was loud in the silence of the room. Sam snapped his computer shut and went to Dean.
“Open your eyes for me,” Sam told him. “I know you’re hurting. After you answer some questions, I can give you a painkiller. First you have to open those eyes of yours.”
Dean laid still for a minute. Then, he groaned again. Sam held Dean’s face in his hands. “Look at me, Dean. You need to open your eyes now.”
His lashes fluttered and then stopped.
“Almost,” Sam encouraged him. “You have to open them long enough to look at me.”
The next time they fluttered, they opened a slit, and then a little more.
“Good,” Sam smiled. He checked Dean’s pupils and asked, “What were we hunting?”
“Wen . . . Wen.”
“Wendigo. Right. What year is it?”
“2007,” Dean replied.
“That’s enough. I’ll get the narcotics.” Sam loaded another syringe. “You’re going to feel a poke.” He withdrew the needle and was met with Dean’s glare. “They’re strong and work quick. Next time you can pick out your own pain meds if you stay conscious. That’s the deal.”
Dean closed his eyes, but he was just resting. Sam could tell my his breathing that he hadn’t fallen asleep.
“He got you in the legs,” Sam explained the extent of Dean’s injuries. “The worst part was when he got your artery, but I think that it’s stitched up fine. You have stitches on both legs, mostly your thighs. Your back is beat up from your fall, but you probably won’t even notice that over the sutures on the cut where he almost took your manhood.”
Dean’s eyes popped open.
“You’re still intact, don’t worry.” Sam should have known that a comment like that would get Dean’s full attention.
Satisfied that Sam was telling the truth because no guy alive would joke about something like that, Dean fell back to sleep.
He dreamed of when he was little, before the fire. He’d been sick with a cold, and Mary had sat and colored with him between the fluids of all sorts that she tried to get him to drink. She let him lean into her, curled up under a blanket, while she read him his favorite book Even though he was sick, Dean had still felt pampered.
Mary made his favorite foods when he started feeling better. John had grumbled over the supper table and Mary had given him what for. Unbeknownst to Dean, Mary was pregnant with Sam and not feeling so well herself. She could take care of a sick child but her patience drew the line at a complaining husband.
“Hey, Jude,” Mary sang softly to him while he was trying to fall asleep. He had her lullaby memorized and still heard it in his head whenever he was hurt or upset. He treasured the connection that he still had with her.
But, she was dead and Dad was gone. The only reason he was still alive was Sammy.
“Wake up, Dean,” Sam was in his face. “You need to drink something, stay hydrated. I’ll pick up some energy bars across the street when it opens in the morning. We’ll keep your diet simple but you still need your fluids. I’m not sure how much blood you lost, but it’s more than I’m comfortable with.”
After taking a drink, Dean realized that the cool water was better than any 80’s rock song. He wanted to finish the glass, but Sam took it away. He told Dean he could only have a little at a time.
Dean scowled. He was the big brother. Sam was supposed to be following his orders, not the other way around.
“Give me that stubborn look of yours all you want,” Sam told him. “It doesn’t hurt me any. I’m still not letting you drink yourself into puking and losing what you have gotten down.”
“Sing to me,” Dean said slowly.
“I can’t sing, Dean. You know that. Want me to turn on the radio?”
“No.” Dean felt as if he was going to cry. “Miss Mom.”
Sam’s heart broke a little for him. He ran his fingers through Dean’s hair as he spoke. “I do, too. She must have sang to you when you were sick, right? It’s great that you can remember that. I’m thankful for the short time you had with her. She must have taught you how folks should be cared for because I know you didn’t get your bedside manner from Dad.”
That earned Sam a smile.
“When I got sick at college, Jess took good care of me. It wasn’t the same, though. It bothered me because it wasn’t you. Must be like how you miss Mom more when you’re hurt. Everyone has that someone who can make it all better.”
“It’s just me and you.”
“Yeah,” Sam agreed. “That’s okay, though. In certain ways, I think it’s always just been the two of us.”
Dean didn’t get to voice his agreement before sleep dragged him under.
“I wish I could remember Mom,” Sam spoke softly as he continued stroke Dean’s hair. “When I try to picture Mom, I see you. It’s not a bad thing. I just don’t have a hole in my heart where she used to be.”
Sam stopped his hand movements and sighed. He was tired. It had been a long day and the light of the next one was already coming in the curtains.
They were a team, just as they’d always been at school and on hunts. They had all they needed to handle whatever life decided to throw at them--each other.
Title: A Difficult Birth
Author: my_sam_dean
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing/character: Dean, Sam, John
Rating: R
Prompt: 51 - impertinent - 100 prompts for thought
Notes/Warnings: Warnings: non-con, mpreg, possession
Dean and John were just getting out of the Impala when they heard a scream from inside their run-down home. They quickly glanced at each other.
"Sammy!" Dean yelled as he and John pounded up the steps and broke through the locked door. Frantically searching, Dean was the first to find Sam lying on the kitchen floor. "In here!" he called over his shoulder to their father.
When Dean looked closer at Sam, he saw the pained lines on his face. His jogging pants were pulled down his thighs. There were various objects on the floor around him.
"What happened?" He brushed Sam's sweaty hair back from his face.
"It's time," was all Sam got out before he whimpered and couldn't talk any further.
Dean's mind went into protective brother mode. Sam hadn't noticed John standing just outside the kitchen and he needed to keep Sam calm. Even though Sam knew John had been possessed when he'd forced himself on Sam, he was uneasy around him. John, on the other hand, had no memory of being possessed and thought that a stranger had attacked his little boy. When Dean was able to comfort Sam and get him to calm down so quickly when all of John's fumbling attempts failed, he'd assumed it was because of their close relationship. He was a strict father, but he never wanted his boys to be terrified of him.
"I'm taking you to your room," Dean pulled Sam's sweats up and picked him up with an arm around his back and under his knees. John stepped out of the way and didn't make a noise. Sam had his eyes closed with his face pressed into Dean's chest and didn't see him standing there.
Partway to Sam's room, his whole body tensed and he let out a hollow whine. He was trying to find some relief but didn't want to throw himself out of Dean's arms. "Almost there. Just a minute."
Without pausing to turn on the light, Dean made his way to Sam's bed and laid him upon it. He'd pulled all the covers out of the way so Sam was just lying on the pillow.
"How did it start, Sam? What were you doing in the kitchen?" Dean bent in close to Sam so that Sam had to pay attention to him.
"Hurts," Sam hissed. "Thought it would be better if I could open myself up. Get it over with quicker." The tips of Sam's ears was bright red and he turned his face away.
Dean pushed Sam's cheek until they once again had eye contact. "Did you injure yourself with the objects you used?"
"Don't think so. Just hurts." Sam's eyes slammed shut as he groaned and curled in on himself.
John was standing in the doorway of the room and Dean didn't want Sam to register his presence.
"I'll be right back," he told Sam before he pushed John out into the hall and down the stairs. "He's in labor. I think it's best if you stay down here."
"Why? What do you know about giving birth? At least I was with your mother."
"I'm the one who's been helping Sam throughout the pregnancy. There's embarrassing shit that creeps up and I've handled it with him. I think giving birth falls into that category." Dean could tell that John was trying to think of a rebuttal. "I'd say we could bring him into the hospital, but with the bad experience he had and the fact that he'd underage, he'd be pressed to relive the event in order for the police to chase the guy down."
"He's avoided doctors all this time, hasn't he?"
"Yes," Dean admitted. "He didn't want to get asked questions he didn't have an answer to and he didn't want the baby to be taken away." Dean paused for a moment. "I need you to gather up some supplies for me. Then, can you just wait in the hall in case you're needed? Don't let Sam see you, just be in ear shot if I yell."
"Sure, Dean. What do you need?"
***
"Thought I could make you more comfortable," Dean told Sam when he re-entered the room.
Sam slit his eyes open to see Dean with his arms full of towels and who knew what else.
"The pants will have to come off, Sam. Then, we'll lay some towels underneath you and you can cover up with the sheet."
"Wh-where's Dad?" Sam whispered.
"Not here," Dean faked a smile. "It's just us. It's okay."
"No doctors, Dean. Promise."
"No doctors unless your life is in danger, Sam. I promise that you would be so out of it that you wouldn't even notice the doctors if I brought you in. We'll be fine, but I'm not going to make a promise that I might not be able to keep."
"I want the baby."
"I know. Me, too."
Between pains, he slid off Sam's boxers and underwear. He covered the bottom of the bed and pulled the thin sheet over Sam, who was self-conscious enough to be trying to cover himself. Dean pulled the cover all the way up to his chin to make him feel better.
"Good for now?"
Sam nodded.
"When you tried to loosen things up, did it help?"
He shrugged.
"I'm going to check to see if you're dilating." Dean produced lube from thin air. "I need you to bend your knees, Sammy."
Sam didn't move.
Dean tugged at the sheet at the foot of the bed and lifted it. He urged Sam to shift his legs, which he did, but he kept his head turned away and eyes closed tight. Dean knew he was pretending he was somewhere else and let it be. Sam deserved an escape.
His wet finger moved around Sam's opening. Two fingers went in without any resistance. Dean was quick to remove his hand, lower Sam's legs and return the sheet to its original position.
"You're body's acting the way it should," Dean spoke quietly as he fished Sam's hand from under the covers and held it. "All we can do is wait for nature to take it's course. Then, this will all be over."
"No, it won't." Sam's voice could barely be heard and if Dean hadn't been so close, he would have missed it. "I still have nightmares."
The damn dreams had kept Dean up, too, because he was trying to comfort Sam. Sometimes, Sam didn't wake from them, he just seemed to move on to a good dream. Dean, however, remembered every single time.
"I know. Think you can rest a little?"
An uncommitted noise was all Sam made.
"I just need to go downstairs for a minute. Get some water and a couple books to read to you."
Sam nodded and Dean exited the room. John was sitting right there in the hall. Dean hoped that he hadn't heard about the nightmares. He'd hate for his father to find out that he was the cause of Sam's pain.
"New plan," Dean told him. "Wait downstairs. Sammy's embarrassed and wants it to be just the two of us. We've got to keep his stress level down." He was surprised when John acquiesced. He took up doing research at the kitchen table.
Dean sighed and rubbed at his temples. He had one hell of a headache coming on and knew it was all tension related. He was convinced that once they made it through the birth, it would get better.
***
Dozing, Sam listened to Dean's voice between periods of sleep. When contractions came, he dealt with them best he could and let Dean's words lull him back to peacefulness.
As Sam's discomfort grew, so did Dean's anxiety. All that was keeping him sane was that he knew John was there if they needed him. Sam's sanity was based on the fact that it was just him and Dean and John was nowhere nearby (as far as he knew).
"Something's wrong," Sam panted. "I could feel the baby moving down the canal and it's like it's stuck."
"It can't be stuck. Maybe it just needs a few more contractions to help push it through."
Half an hour later, Dean was ready to concede that the baby could indeed be stuck. "Let me try to see where the baby's at." He moved Sam onto his back and felt his opening that had grown in size. He used lots of lube to make sure he wouldn't cause Sam any unnecessary pain. It took a little bit of work, but Dean was able to reach far enough in to feel the baby's head. He had his fingers scrunched together to make the tight squeeze, but all of them fit. He was so thankful that he hands weren't as huge as Sam's or his dad's. "The baby's right there, Sam. Try another hard push with the next contraction."
Sam did. Sweat was pouring down his face. His body shook with the effort to push. "I can't," Sam sounded heartbroken.
Taking in Sam's pale face, Dean assessed the situation once more. Whereas before there had been fluid in the channel, now there was bright blood. Dean tried to stay calm.
He grabbed Sam's hands in his. "Sam, I don't know what to do. You're bleeding and I know my hand won't be able to pull the baby out. Either we go in to the doctors or Dad needs to try get the baby moving."
"No! No!"
"I'm not going to let you bleed out. I don't even know why you're bleeding! I'm telling you to pick!"
Sam quit yelling and disappeared into his head. He didn't answer any more of Dean's questions. Dean decided for him.
John wasted no time getting scrubbed up. He sat down on the side of the bed and that's when Sam came back to the land of the living. Luckily, Dean had already gathered Sam in his arms and was murmuring words into his ear to help keep him calm.
"Sam," John had a calm but stern sound to his voice. "I'm here to help you and you're going to let me." He flung the sheet back and tried to gain entrance to Sam's opening. His hand wouldn't fit. "It's okay," he used the same tone. "We just need to stretch it out."
Sam's sobs were muffled in Dean's shirt. His legs twitched and shook. It took all he had not to push them together and decide on the doctors instead. Just the threat of child services kept him on that bed.
Slowly working his fingers in, John was sad to see how broken up Sam was. Even after the attack, Sam didn't let John check over his injuries. He'd felt so helpless then and he felt even worse now that he knew just his presence was like being violated all over again. Didn't the kid understand that John loved him and just wanted to help?
"I'm going to try my whole hand now," John warned. "If you get a contraction or need to push, that's fine, but I'm not going to take my hand out. I'll be still until it's over but I don't want to throw away any progress we've made."
Dean nodded his understanding while Sam was lost in a sea of pain. Ever so slowly, his hand crept further in. John gave a sigh of relief when he found the baby's head. He gripped Sam's knee with his other hand to get his attention.
"On your next contraction, I'm going to help you ease the baby out." John found himself once again talking to Dean instead of Sam. He moved his spare hand to Sam's belly to see if he could somehow help push on that end, too.
Crying out, Sam pushed as hard as he could. Dean struggled to keep Sam on the bed. John applied pressure to Sam's abdomen and gently tugged on the skull that fit in his hand. Ever so slowly, the baby inched down.
With John and Dean shouting words of encouragement, Sam gave a final push and brought his son into the world. He was overcome with joy. Without the intense pain, he was more aware of John being at the 'action' end of the bed and tried to curl his legs to one side until John went away.
"Whoa," John caught Sam's knees right before they touched. "There's still a placenta in there, son. You and Dean check the baby and I'll tend to this."
"Come on, Sam," Dean encouraged him. "It's just Dad. Only Dad. Really just Dad."
Sam allowed John to continue. Luckily, John didn't hear Dean's words or he would have had plenty of questions.
Once the placenta was expelled, John glanced at the baby long enough to know he was healthy, and left with the soiled linens.
"Dad didn't hurt you, did he, Sam?" Dean didn't look Sam in the eye because he was staring at the baby.
"No."
"Before, that wasn't Dad. Somehow, you have to know that."
"I do. I hate that I was so vulnerable when he came in to help today. I should have been able to just accept him. He hadn't hurt me since that one time."
"He won't hurt you again," Dean said. "But, he can never know that this is his son. No matter how mad you get at him, you can't throw it in his face. It would kill him inside."
"I know. I won't." Sam's eyes drooped.
"I'll take pipsqueak downstairs and clean him up. Rest for awhile, okay?"
"I'm tired." Sam slurred.
"That's how this works." Dean kissed Sam's forehead. "You did a wonderful job, Sammy. I'm proud of you."
It was that burning sense of pride that followed Sam into his slumber. He'd been strong over the months since the incident and now that the baby was here, maybe he could concentrate on seeing John in the role of a grandfather instead of the dreaded yellow-eyed demon.
Title: The Gay Club
Author: my_sam_dean
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing/character: Sam/Dean
Rating: R
Prompt: 2 - raucous - 100 prompts for thought
Notes/Warnings: slash, incest
Hunt finished, the Winchesters were allowed to just unwind. Having a gay club nearby was a real treat, which meant Dean decided he had to go. In turn, Sam had no way out of going because there was no way he was going to send Dean out on his own. He might not be the most jealous man, but he didn't want anyone else dancing with Dean.
After Dean finished laughing at Sam for being suck a stick in the mud, he talked him into getting a steak supper before going out. Alcohol could be a dangerous thing on an empty stomach and Dean wanted to be able to drink and unwind once they made it to the club.
Sam tried to drag his feet at supper. Dean, as usual, inhaled his food. Then, he asked Sam if he was going to finish his plate. The younger brother wrapped an arm around his meal and Dean took the hint.
The dark building had laser lights cutting through the blackness. The strobe lights made it difficult to clearly see anything, which was the point with the almost obscene dancing going on.
The air in the club was humid. The pulsating music was too loud to talk over. Sam and Dean didn't need words, they knew each other too well. All those years of sparring, hunting and living in close quarters made them able to read each other's every move.
One drink. Two drinks. Sam was feeling fine. He was ready to dance and dragged Dean out on the floor. Dean smiled at Sam's being a lightweight and was thankful for the fact at that point.
A drunk Sammy was a clingy one. He left no space between them as he began to grind his pelvis against Dean's. Making sure to keep Sam upright, Dean returned the gesture. When it got too warm, they took off their shirts and tucked them in the back of their jeans. The shirts accentuated their movements. Some patrons stopped to watch them writhe. The couple was oblivious to their audience.
Dean needed Sam. It was as simple as that. He held Sam's cheek as he kissed him and slid his tongue inside. Sam was a good dancer, but Dean was an even better kisser. They stopped moving their feet and let their lips convey their passion. Not so quiet moans and groans were covered up by the pounding beat. The folks whose attention they caught earlier still stared. Some wished they were in Sam or Dean’s position. Others grabbed the person next to them and started their own entertainment.
Breathing the same air and lost in sensations, the pair had created their own little world. Their lives existed with monsters, curses and demons. It was only fair that they had some pleasurable things, too.
Everyone could just see bits and pieces of their relationship from the outside looking in. Their wild imaginations filled in the blanks. That's what the sight of two hot boys in love will do.
Title: Let Me Make it Better
Author: my_sam_dean
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing/character: Sam/Jess
Rating: R
Prompt: 14 - lunar - 100 prompts for thought
Notes/Warnings: warnings: explicit fingering
Sam entered the apartment and hurt just from looking at Jessica. She was miserable, curled up on the couch with a heating pad. The television was blaring some program but she didn't seem to be paying it any attention. She was shifting around, trying to get as comfortable as she could.
Every month she went through this and Sam felt like crap each time because there was nothing he could do to ease her suffering. Luckily, he'd quit trying to think of something to make her feel better and decided to look for something instead. The internet could be a man's best friend.
After dropping his backpack by the door and slipping off his shoes, he approached her. She was so lost in her misery that she didn't even notice him until he was right next to her.
"How ya feeling?" Sam knelt down and tried to give her a small smile.
"Oh, you know . . . " she shrugged and knew that was all the answer she needed to give.
"How long have you been sitting here? Have you eaten?"
Jessica groaned, "Don't mention food."
"Sorry, babe," Sam kissed her forehead as he mentally catalogued all the items in arm's reach. "Does anything help?"
"I wish. Did you finish your paper?"
He nodded and motioned for her to make room for him. She slid so she was between Sam and the back of the couch. Sam stayed propped up on one elbow and looked down her body as he slid his hand under her shirt to gently rub at her belly. Jessica made a noise that could have been good or bad.
"Is this okay?"
"I don't know," she squirmed a little as she thought about his question. "It's not bad."
While those words weren't a ringing endorsement, Sam was still encouraged to put his new knowledge to work.
"I have an idea. It might make you feel better."
"Really? What?"
"It works much better if I just show you," he lazily pressed his lips to hers. "Wanna?"
Confused, she gave a little nod because she knew her boyfriend wouldn't do anything to cause her harm.
"Good." He quickly unbuttoned her jeans and she made no protest until he'd also hooked his fingers under her panties. "Trust me," he whispered before he slid her clothes down and pulled them off her feet.
Jessica was blushing. She'd quickly gripped her knees together and rested her legs to the side in an attempt to hide herself from him. Realizing how vulnerable she must feel, especially with being in their large room that combined the entry, kitchen and living room, he grabbed the blanket from the backrest and spread it over her as he crept up to her level.
"Is that better?"
"I can't just . . . I don't want to make a mess." She was torn between pleading with him to understand what she was getting at and just hiding her face.
"Just a minute." Sam sat up and stretched as he pulled his t-shirt over his head. He placed it under her hips. "Problem solved." He could tell she was still unsure, so he kept talking. "I learned something new today," He slid his hand under the covers rubbed her stomach in a circular motion.
She visibly relaxed a tiny bit.
Slowly, his palm worked its way further south. When he reached her curls, he ran his hand along the line where were thighs were pressed to each other. "Let me," he said softly as he looked into her eyes.
The tension faded minutely and he caressed her legs until he could apply a small pressure and part them. He kept touching the inside of her thighs until she opened further for him. She startled when he first brushed against her moist opening. He shushed her as he slipped a finger inside.
"Sam . . ."
"I've touched you here before," he said simply. "I've seen you all spread out underneath me when you can't wait to feel my body in yours. You've been splayed across the bed when we're done and too sated to actually get under the blankets." He watched her face as he varied the pressure and movements to her core.
Her eyes were locked with his when her breaths quickened and she flushed. Moments stretched on as she climbed higher and higher to the peak that remained just out of reach. She had a tinge of fear in her gaze when she wondered if relief was in sight or if she was going to fly to pieces trying to achieve it.
An illigeble grunt escaped her throat as she moved one foot to the back of the couch. She was grinding on Sam's fingers, wanting and needing something that was just out of reach. She seemed to look to Sam for approval.
"Keep going," he told her.
Her hips were in constant motion, trying to guide Sam's touch to where he was needed most, yet not knowing exactly where that place was. Her throat was dry from panting and she gasped for air after attempting to swallow. She became frantic, making noises as she sought release. When her orgasm hit, it punched the rest of the air from her. She closed her eyes as she shook.
Sam stared at her intently until she opened her eyes. "Don't move." He rose to his feet and fetched a warm washcloth. Jessica was naked from the waist down, her covering had scrunched up as she'd moved. Sam lovingly cleaned her, pulled her bikini bottoms back on, moved the fleece so it covered her and gathered her in his arms.
"Thanks," she mumbled into his shoulder.
"Better?"
She nodded and curled further into his embrace.
"I'm glad." He settled down into the cushions, preparing for a nap. "I love you, Jess."
"I know," she whispered. "I love you, too."
The apartment fell quiet and its occupants slept, nestled together on the narrow furniture and blissfully unaware of anything besides the two of them.
Title: Love Has Many Forms, Part 1
Author: my_sam_dean
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing/character: Dean, Sam
Rating: R
Prompt: 21 - fervor - 100 prompts for thought
Notes/Warnings: None
Dean had the shovel over one shoulder and the duffel over the other. What had started out as an unseasonably cool, misty fall evening had turned into a thunderstorm with driving rain. His hair was plastered to his scalp. Rain rolled down his neck and invaded the warmth under his leather jacket.
Visibility was low on the way to the motel. He had to make a real effort to keep his speed down when all he wanted was a hot shower and sleep. His droopy eyes peered through the rain, thankful to see the rundown motel sign with only the letters 'o' and 'l' lit up.
Desperately trying to get rid of the chill under the water that never got warmer than tepid and had lousy shower pressure, Dean shifted from foot to foot as he rubbed his hands on his arms.
"Come on, come on." Dean scowled at the showerhead and the water turned ice cold in revenge. "Shit!" He leapt out of the tub so fast that he stumbled and tore part of the shower curtain.
Shivering was supposed help his body warm up. Dean knew it as a fact. Their father had hammered first aid into both him and Sam. At the moment, the movement didn't seem to be helping Dean. He dried off as best he could, bundled up in his warmest sweat suit and thick socks, and huddled under the covers.
As he laid there in the dark, he knew he hadn't been eating enough of the right foods. He hadn't been sleeping enough and he'd spent too much time running on empty. It was going to catch up with him. If he could just fall asleep, he'd take better care of himself starting tomorrow. He could sleep in, find a grocery store and actually use the small fridge and microwave that came with the room. Well, he'd have to bleach them out first.
The shrill sound of his cell phone ripped Dean from his peaceful slumber. He slapped at the nightstand, finding his phone just before it vibrated onto the phone.
"Yeah?" he cleared his throat when it came out at as croak.
"Who am I speaking with?" a woman asked him.
Dean sat up and turned on the lamp. One look at his watch told him that he'd only been asleep for two hours. He didn't have long before the sun would cut through the cheap curtains. "Do you know what time it is, lady?"
"Almost four o'clock." She was all business. "Can I get your name, please?"
He glanced at his ID and it read 'Unavailable'. "Who the hell is this?"
"Nurse Lacy from County General."
"Is Sam hurt?" Dean hadn't seen him for a year but that didn't change how he felt about the kid.
"I don't know any Sam. If you'll be patient with me and answer my questions, I'll be able to tell you more information sooner."
"Dean. Dean Winchester."
"What do you drive?"
"1967 Chevy Impala."
"What color?"
"Black. Why?"
“I was given your number by Tami Carr. She was able to give me just a few details about you.”
“Okay. Why did she need to call me?”
“She didn’t want to call you. She’s in labor and is going to sign away her rights. The baby can’t be given up for adoption unless you’ve signed the papers, too. That’s why I’m calling.”
“She’s in labor?”
“Yes. She says you’re the father.” Silence. “Hello?”
“I’m here. I mean, I’ll be there. To get the baby.”
“So, you’re not going to sign away your rights?”
“No. I’ll . . . what do I need to bring?”
“Just yourself.”
“I’m on my way. Don’t let anyone take my baby. I’m coming.”
“We don’t make a habit of that,” Nurse Lacy’s heart felt lighter after hearing how happy Dean was at the news. “Drive careful.”
After shutting his phone, Dean copied the number and address of the hospital into his journal just in case the slip in his wallet got lost. He rolled his stiff shoulders and tried to crack his neck. Groaning, he twisted and turned until he made his neck and back worse than it was before.
If he could just drink enough coffee to make it through four states to the hospital, he’d be happy. After that, he could worry about purchasing baby items and selecting a place to stay. Oh, he'd have to get that extra rest somewhere in there, too.
000000
The weather didn’t warm up as the sun rose. More dark clouds rolled in and icy drizzle that turned to a pounding torrent in a heartbeat were in the imminent future. At the last Gas Stop/Convenience Store, Dean was able to find replacement wiper blades, and bags of snacks that at least resembled real foods. The dehydrated apple chips and spicy jerky (not the kind conformed to a tube) weren’t bad. A couple bottles of cola gave him a break from coffee.
He was getting closer and closer to the hospital. Doubts were beginning to pop up in his head. Was he ready to be a dad? How bad would hunting screw up a kid? In the case of their dad with he and Sam, how had that one turned out? Was it better to stay with family or would they have been better off placed somewhere else?
All Dean knew from a young age was to look out for his little brother. The word ‘family’ was used so often and never explained. When they were on hunts, they saw other families that had been ripped apart by something supernatural that the Winchesters were trying to kill or send away. Sometimes it brought peace to the family that had caught their attention to the problem in the first place. Most of the time, it just prevented the same tragedy from happening over and over.
Dean and Sam learned early on that family was who loved you. Bobby, Father Murphy, Harvelles, Caleb, Jefferson and Missouri were considered family.
Because he had been thrown into hunting at such a young age, there had been a couple of times when Dean had made contact with a small child who had been traumatized. He’d been patient and able to coax the child out of their shell. He wasn’t able to get answers from the kids but he could get breadcrumbs, and that was something.
He’d had a big part in raising Sammy and he never regretted spending time with his little brother instead of going out to find some friends his own age. They’d be moving on in a month or so, and it was easier to hang around Sam who already knew what hunts involved and how careful they had to be so that Child Protective Services didn’t take Dean and Sam away. Most kids thought living in a motel was cool. Dean just let the kids think that. He wanted to be the loner kid who no one bothered. If how they lived gave him some credibility, he'd take it. He'd be able to insure Sam's safety easier that way.
Sam had been a quick learner in anything he wanted to know about. Sometimes hunting fit in that category and other times it didn't. He devoured all that he could find about folklore and legends. When it came to training and bringing what he had read about into practical use in the field, he only went to try to keep Dean safe.
The one summer Sam played soccer, Dad hadn't been happy but he'd let them stay in one place. Both of them pled with him and promised to train extra hard if he allowed them those three months. Dean sat in the bleachers during practice and attended each game. On days when neither was scheduled, they completed training before the sun had enough time to make it too uncomfortable, napped during the hottest hours and practiced soccer in the empty lot until dark.
He'd heaped praise on Sam for studying. He was proud of Sam's grades, even as he had to leave Sam at the door of the school and then take his fake ID and try to hustle before class was out. Dean had known his academic career was non-existent but he wanted Sam to have options spread out before him. He later thought that Sam could have parted on better terms on his way to Stanford. It still felt like a physical injury when he remembered the anger in Sam's eyes directed at him. If he'd known what Sam had planned for that evening, he would have had arguments prepared for their dad. As it was, he had none. He could just stand there, dumbfounded, which Sam mistook as agreeing with the words shouted at him.
Day turned into night. He was getting closer and closer to a future that he was unsure of. He was twenty-three and had never learned how typical folks lived. Sure, he could pretend for a short period of time. That was all he'd been required to do. How was he going to not only convince a nurse that he was a responsible adult but also avoid any mistakes that might make her think he was weird and have social services check up on him? He couldn't just panic and break a baby out of a hospital. Could he? Didn't they have some kind of Lo-Jack on them these days?
Pulling into town, he made one last stop before his destination. He squinted in the dingy bathroom mirror and took a couple deep breaths. He could do this. He had to do this. He changed into his jeans with just a couple small holes and a white t-shirt. It was as good as he was going to look.
His heavy boots resounded on the tile floor. When he spotted the front desk, he flashed the young lady a smile. Then, he remembered he needed to blend in and be responsible, not charming. He toned down his smile.
"Sir? May I help you?"
"Yeah," his throat tightened up until he cleared it. "I received a call from Nurse Lacy. She asked me to come here."
"Nurse Lacy? I know her. Let me call, see if she's on tonight." After a short conversation, she hung up and turned back to Dean. "You're in luck. Nurse Lacy is working the overnight shift so she's just coming on duty. She's on her way down to meet you. Would you like to have a seat?"
After he shook his head, he tried not to pace. His heart was pounding out of his chest and he hoped no one could tell.
A matronly woman appeared. "Dean? This way, please."
"Nurse Lacy? How is . . . I mean, did everything go okay after we spoke? I didn't want to stop to call and check, I thought it would be better to just get here--" Dean fell into step with her and couldn't help his nervous flood of words.
She warmly smiled at him. "Everyone is healthy, don't you worry."
Freshly scrubbed and gowned up, Dean sat in the rocking chair surrounded by tiny beds with babies. It was a sea of pink and blue.
"These two have been waiting to meet you," Nurse Lacy pulled a bed bigger than the others over to Dean. "Your daughter is four minutes younger than your son."
"They're so small." Dean leaned closer but didn't reach toward them.
"Twins are a bit on the little side. There are two of them growing in a room built for one. It won't be long before they are just as big as the other babies here. But, we might need to keep them a couple extra days to get up to a weight where we're comfortable discharging them."
"Whatever is best for them. Wow. Twins."
"Would you like to hold them?"
"Really? Yeah."
The nurse put a pillow under each of Dean's arms before she laid the bundles in them. She took the first family picture. Dean was the proud, beaming father. Someone he never thought he'd ever get a chance to be.