Hunter's lullaby: chapter fourteen
Chapter 14
Hampton Falls, July 5
Sam was folding the laundry, humming to himself, when he heard Dean’s heavy footsteps behind him. It was almost eleven in the morning, the rain wasn’t showing any sign of stopping, and the house was clean, smelling of disinfectant and ozone.
“Wow,” Dean said in a gruff voice.
His eyes were slightly swollen and his hair was mussed into a funny tuft. He had put on his jeans and a clean t-shirt.
“What?”
“It’s like… clean.”
“Well, I didn’t know what to do with myself. All that’s left is the vacuuming. Didn’t wanna wake you up. So, sleep well?”
Dean nodded, stretching. “Actually, yes. Had this crazy dream.” He went to the fridge and took the milk, didn’t even bother getting a glass, and sat at the counter, eyes still a little unfocussed from sleep.
“What dream?”
“Mom was there. For the birth.”
“Oh.”
Dean raised an eyebrow and drank from the milk carton. “It’s okay, Sam. M’not gonna burst into tears. She was there next to me, ya know, and I was feeling so ashamed, because of… well, everything, but she kept smiling. T’was kind of nice.”
“Yeah. I bet it was,” Sam whispered, putting the folded clothes in a neat pile.
“So, when I woke up, I went to the bathroom, and huh… lost another bit of that mucus thing,” Dean added as if it was nothing.
“Really?”
“Yup.”
“Okay.”
“Okay.”
They looked at each other. Sam could see Dean’s effort to stay stoic and composed, but there was this glint of uncertainty in his eyes.
“Hungry?”
“Always.”
“I’ll make us some grilled cheese sandwiches.”
Dean frowned. “Deal, but I want white bread, not the stuff with the thousand cereals in it. Hate it when my bread is crunchy.”
“It’s supposed to help with the-”
“Sam. Don’t even think about going there.”
They ate in the living room, watching a Chuck Norris movie. Dean kept squirming and fidgeting on the couch, and although he did show some appetite, he only ate half of his sandwich. Sam kept watching him as discreetly as possible, and when Dean’s features tensed, he waited patiently without saying anything.
Dean straightened a bit on the couch, put a hand on the small of his back.
“Huh,” he said.
“You okay?”
“Guess so.”
Then his eyes widened in surprise. “Sam? Remember Rania telling me that I would know the difference between a false and a real contraction?”
“Yeah.”
“So, this is a real one.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, I… Okay, it’s gone now.”
Sam looked at his watch. It was 11:41.
“I’m just gonna go fetch my notebook,” he said, careful to sound normal and relaxed. “So we can write down the frequency like Rania told us.”
“You do realize that you’re talking to me like I’m five years old, right?” Dean asked, trying for a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“Sorry.”
When Sam got back to the living room, Dean hadn’t moved from his spot, and was staring into space.
“Dean?”
“Yeah?”
“You okay there?”
“I’m over thirty-seven weeks, Sam.”
“You’re thirty-seven weeks and three days.”
“So, if it really is the labor starting, Rania won’t try to stop it.”
“No. Want to call her yourself?”
“Let’s wait,” Dean said, then added quickly when he saw Sam frowning, “Just… Let’s wait for the next one, okay? Just to be sure.”
Sam wanted to protest - of course he wanted to, but something in Dean’s eyes stopped him. Dean was scared - that much Sam could tell, scared and somehow… surprised by this turn of events.
“Okay,” he said.
Dean nodded and remained seated a bit awkwardly. “So.”
“Yeah… So. What… what did it feel like?”
“The contraction? Well, it began in my back, for starters, and there was this burning sensation on top of the muscle tightening thing.”
“Okay. Huh… do you wanna take a shower?”
“Yeah, good idea.”
“Want me to go with you?” Sam asked, helping Dean up.
“I’m fine, Sam.”
“Right. But you gotta tell me if you have another contraction.”
“Yeah.”
Dean obviously needed some space. While he showered, all Sam could do was to pace in their bedroom, waiting. Dean left the bathroom door open, and Sam literally jumped in the corridor when he heard his brother call his name.
“What? Another one?”
“Yeah,” Dean hissed over the water noise.
It was 11:56.
“I’m calling Rania,” Sam shouted back.
“Alright.”
Rania was prompt to answer her phone, as always. “I had a feeling you would call, Sam. How is he?”
“Fine, I guess. He lost more of the mucus plug and had two contractions, fifteen minutes apart. He says he can tell that they’re the real ones, this time.”
“Okay. Now, listen to me, Sam; there’s no need to hurry. All the preparations have been made and we’re ready for this. What I want Dean to do is to lie on his left side and try to relax. Call me back in an hour.”
“Hum. Yeah.”
“His waters haven’t broken yet, have they?”
“Not yet.”
“Good. And Sam? Everything’s gonna be alright.”
The next hour was one of the strangest in Sam’s life. He and Dean stayed in the living room literally waiting for the contractions to come and go, which they did, every fifteen minutes or so. They didn’t talk much. Dean looked tense and nervous. Sam didn’t want to put any kind of pressure on him, and left him to deal with whatever was going through his head. The contractions didn’t seem really painful, which Sam knew was normal this early in the labor. If Dean hadn’t told him, Sam probably wouldn’t have guessed they were happening.
They waited a little over an hour - five contractions later - to call Rania back, and she asked them to come in. Not a surprise, but it still struck Sam like a slap in the face. This was real. All of it. Dean would actually give birth to their daughter soon. They would have a daughter.
“Oh. My. God,” he said as they walked to the Impala, his duffel on his shoulder.
“What?”
“This is really happening, Dean. Do you… do you realize?”
“Not really,” Dean replied, holding onto the car’s roof while opening the passenger door. “I… fuck. I don’t know.”
“You don’t know what?”
“I don’t know.”
“Ooo-kay. Let’s go.”
Dean had another contraction as they were hitting the road. This time, he let out a surprised groan and put his hand over his belly, bending forward slightly. “That… wow. That’s kind of painful,” he whispered.
“Want me to stop the car?”
Dean waited for the contraction to pass before answering. “That was a stupid question.”
“Yes, it was,” Sam let out a nervous laugh, relieved to see that Dean looked more at ease. “Fourteen minutes. They’re steady.”
“They’re supposed to be, geek boy.”
“Hey, I’m just trying to make conversation here.”
“I know. Hey Sam?”
“Mmm?”
“It’s doable, right?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well… The curse’ll work, won’t it? She’s not gonna be like… stuck inside?”
Dean’s eyes were big in his suddenly pale face.
“She’s gonna be fine, Dean. Everything’ll work out just fine.”
“You don’t know that.”
“…No. I don’t. But I trust Rania. She wouldn’t have risked a natural birth if she hadn’t been sure.”
“Okay.”
Dean remained silent for the rest of the trip, only groaning his way through another contraction as Sam parked the car in front of Rania’s house.
She greeted them on the porch, a professional smile on her face, calm and composed. The first thing she did was drag Dean to the exam room and ask him to prepare for a gynecological exam. This time, Sam stayed with his brother to help him undress. Dean was uneasy and awkward without his boxers, and Sam had to help him to climb on the bed.
“Hey, Dean, stop this.”
“What?” he asked, dragging a sheet over his thighs.
“Before all of this is over, you’re gonna actually push the baby out with your feet in the stirrups.”
“Wow. Thanks for reminding me, Sam.”
Sam took his brother’s face between his hands, forcing Dean to look at him. His cheeks were deep red.
“Don’t think about this, is what I mean. I know you’re not comfortable with your body and all but hell, we’ve spent our entire lives together, we’ve stitched up each other. There’s not a part of you that I don’t know. You’ve got to let this go for the time being. I don’t care what you look like, Rania doesn’t either. Okay?”
“Easier said than - ow, fuck.”
“Dean?”
Dean gripped Sam’s thigh and squeezed it, hard.
“Another one? It’s… still fifteen minutes. Maybe you should start with the breathing exercises?”
“Shut up,” Dean snarled, but then he took a deep breath and released it slowly, just like Rania had taught him. His fingernails dug into the meat of Sam’s leg. Sam valiantly endured the pain without moving.
“Was it really bad?” he asked when Dean released his death grip.
“I don’t know, wanna try it?” Dean snapped, but then his face softened. “Naw. It wasn’t that bad.”
But it did seem kind of bad and Sam wondered how Dean was going to deal with the pain during the hours to come. His brother was tough - of course he was, and he had shown his capacity to endure a lot of things through the years. But this was different. Dean was different. Their situation had put him in a vulnerable position and Rania had been clear with Sam - giving birth wasn’t a walk in the park.
Dean couldn’t be numbed from the waist down by an epidural because it had to be done by an anesthesiologist. Rania had discussed the possibility of giving him a painkiller, a solution women sometimes preferred to the epidural technique, but she also admitted there were downsides to that option. Opiates could cross the placenta’s protective barrier and there could be some respiratory problems for the baby right after the birth. It wasn’t a real problem when the infant was born in a hospital, where it could receive oxygen and medication especially made to counter those side-effects, but Rania, even if she could get her hands on those drugs, wasn’t enthusiastic about using them. The hesitation from her made Dean say he wouldn’t risk his daughter’s life over his own inability to deal with pain. And that had been that.
The exam was quick and Sam couldn’t help but twitch at the way Rania could so easily slip her finger inside his brother. Dean breathed through it. His legs were shaking slightly when the young woman finally withdrew her fingers and pulled off her glove.
“One centimeter, Dean,” she said, sounding satisfied.
“One? Only one? But we’ve got like… to get to ten.”
“Yeah.”
She helped him out of the stirrups and covered him with the sheet. “It’s a long process, but the first three or four centimeters are the slowest. It accelerates after that.”
Sam helped Dean sit up, rubbing a hand on the small of his brother’s back. Dean didn’t push him away.
“Maybe you could put on something more comfortable than your jeans,” Rania suggested. And after that, we’ll talk.”
Once Dean had changed into sweatpants, Rania took them out of the exam room to the end of the corridor and opened the door to a small bedroom in which a king-size bed took up the majority of space.
“So, it’s gonna take a while to get through the first stage, and I figured we could save the hospital bed in the exam room for the pushing phase. This is my guest bedroom. You’ll be more comfortable here if you feel like lying down, Dean.”
“Oh. Thanks.”
“Also, there are some clean towels in the bathroom. Since your waters haven’t broken yet a warm bath should be safe and will help you through the contractions, so feel free to use it if you want. You do remember what we’ve talked about, right? Walking helps get the cervix dilatation going but if you wanna rest, that’s alright too. You’ll need all your strength later. There are ice chips in the freezer, but since we’re at the very beginning, I can allow you to drink some water or clear juice. Sam, I want you to continue recording the contractions. If you could calculate each one’s duration, that would be great.”
“Okay,” Sam said, feeling a bit uneasy. “Huh… Are you going somewhere?”
Rania smiled. “Don’t worry. I’ll be in my greenhouse. Got some work to do down there. I’ll have my cell, if you guys need anything, but I figured I would examine Dean again in a couple of hours.”
She was leaving them some space, Sam realized, deeply touched by Rania’s tactfulness. He offered a choked-up “thanks,” feeling a bit stupid over being so emotional already, and wondered if he would get through his daughter’s birth without shedding tears.
Probably not.
He and Dean watched through the guestroom window as Rania made her way to the small greenhouse at the back of the courtyard, apparently indifferent to the rain. Then they looked at each other, unsure of what to do.
“A warm bath could be a good idea,” Sam suggested.
“No way, dude. I hate baths. Besides, the pain is pretty manageable so far.”
“Then maybe you could rest?”
“Don’t feel like it.”
“Walk?”
“Could. Although I feel stupid doing it around the house.”
“Jesus, Dean-”
“Alright, alright. Let’s walk.”
They did. Dean was nervous and fidgety. Sam managed to take his mind off what was happening by talking about inconsequential things like food and music. They went through two more contractions that way. When they came, Dean would stop and hold onto a wall or a piece of furniture. Each one lasted for about thirty seconds, still fifteen minutes apart. It was two thirty in the afternoon when Dean sighed and stopped to sit in the kitchen. “Okay, this is already getting old.”
“Thirsty?”
“Hell, yeah. Is there apple juice in there?”
There was. Rania had asked Sam about Dean’s preferences on that day the two of them had met. Once again, Sam was touched by Rania’s thoughtfulness, and reminded himself to find a way to thank her afterward, for everything she had done.
“Now what?” Dean asked. “I was, like, prepared for something more intense than this. Never thought labor would be boring.”
“Wanna watch some TV?”
“Think we can?”
“Why not?”
It was a bit surreal, settling down on Rania’s couch to watch a marathon of one of those reality cooking shows that Dean was so found of. Each time a contraction came, Dean would sit straight, head bent down, and breathe through it like Rania had taught him. He managed it pretty well. They were both surprised to realize it was almost four thirty when Rania came back into the house and told Dean she had to check him again. “Actually, I should’ve come earlier. Lost track of time.”
“Yeah, us too,” Dean told her, rising slowly to his feet with Sam’s help.
“How do you feel?”
“Not bad.”
“The contractions are ten to twelve minutes apart, and they’re lasting about forty seconds or so,” Sam informed her.
“Good. I’ll go wash up a bit and then we’ll take a look at you, Dean.”
“Oh, joy,” Dean said, rolling his eyes.
The exam seemed a lot more uncomfortable this time, but Dean held his own, teeth clenched as he breathed forcefully through his nose.
“That’s good… two and a half centimeters.”
“What?” Dean rose on his elbows. “Are you kidding me?”
Rania smiled, pulling off her glove. “Told you the first centimeters would go slowly, but the cervix has softened a bit, so that’s good news.”
She then settled the fetal heart and contraction sensor onto Dean’s belly, wanting to monitor him for half an hour or so. Sam was immediately fascinated by the way the contractions drew a peak pattern on the paper sliding out of the machine. “There,” he said as the carbon line started to lower. “It’s almost done.”
“You do realize that I’m actually feeling it,” Dean grunted through clenched teeth.
“Yeah, sorry.”
Dean was eager to start walking again, if that could accelerate things. When Rania was satisfied with the monitoring, he stood up and clapped her hands. “Alright. Let’s get this show on the road.” To tell the truth, Sam was kind of impressed by the way he was doing so far. He had expected more angst, but Dean looked at ease with the labor. He made his way around the house, walking slowly but steadily, Sam trailing behind him. Rania had retreated to the exam room, filing papers at her desk and trying to eat a salad as discreetly as possible because Dean had to fast until the baby was born.
It was almost six o’clock when they stepped outside onto the porch. The rain had finally stopped and the sky was a wild mix of orange and shades of purple. The air was fresh, heavy with ozone. Dean walked to the banister and leaned on his crossed arms. He wasn’t wearing any shoes, only old wool socks. The light wind was blowing through his hair and the colors of the sky were making his eyes look brighter. He was beautiful like that, Sam thought, very strangely beautiful, a mix of butch masculinity and uncertain femininity. He couldn’t help but press himself behind his brother, wrapping his arms around Dean’s heavy belly. “Love you,” he whispered into his ear. “You’ll never know how much I do.”
“Love you too, Sam,” Dean answered quietly. And Sam smiled like a fool, because he could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times his brother had actually let those words slip. Of course, Dean had to add something. “Is this where we share our feelings and cry in each other’s arms while thinking about our baby girl?”
“Could be,” Sam said playfully.
“Yeah, in your dreams, Samantha. Okay, there’s another one.”
Sam stayed where he was as Dean bent over slightly. He felt the stomach muscles contracting, hard. The skin was hot underneath Dean’s tee, his thigh muscles bunching and shaking slightly. “That’s it, breathe through it,” he said, kissing his brother’s neck where the strands of hair were damp and curled.
“Are they still ten minutes apart?”
Sam looked at his watch. “Yeah.”
“Damn it.”
“Are they getting stronger?”
“Maybe.” Dean freed himself from Sam’s arms and turned toward him. “I don’t know. Not really.”
“We’ll get there eventually.”
“Still wanna do that girly talk?” Dean asked, scratching the back of his head.
“M’always ready for a girly talk.”
“Okay. So. I know we haven’t really talked about it but I figured there was no need to since we’re probably already on the same page.”
“What?”
“Don’t want our girl anywhere near the hunting’s world. And if that means we have to give it up, so be it.” Dean said coldly, a determined look on his face.
“Yeah, think we’re on the same page here.”
“Want her safe, ya know.”
“Of course.”
“And, huh…” Dean lowered his eyes and shifted on his feet. “I kinda wish she could know that I’m her dad, but that’d be unfair to you. I mean, you’re as much her father as I am. So I think we should go with the whole ‘found her during a hunt’ thing, because we’ll eventually have to explain her presence.”
“Dean, you sure about that? Because you carried her for nine months, you went through all this and… I mean, I don’t care if I’m not her father, officially. I’ll be like… the cool uncle.”
Dean smiled uncertainly. “M’not sure about anything. Man, m’not even sure all of this is not like a crazy-long hallucination.”
“Trust me, this is all very real.” Sam smiled back.
“She can never know about us,” Dean added, suddenly serious again.
“I know,” Sam whispered. “Geez, I just wish…”
What was there left to say?
“Me too,” Dean said, pressing Sam’s hand into his own, then shaking him off. “Okay, touchy-feely talk is over.”
He gently pushed Sam away to get to the door, but froze after a couple of steps, putting his hand on his belly and frowning.
“Dean, what?”
“Don’t know. Just felt strange, like something snapped inside or… shit.”
Dean lowered his head and Sam did the same. He saw dark spots growing quickly on the front of Dean’s pants and on the inside of his thighs. It reached the bottom of his legs and wet his socks, then formed a growing puddle between his feet.
“Sam, I think I peed myself,” Dean said, completely mortified.
“Don’t be stupid. Your water just broke.”
“Really? I thought it would feel… hell, I don’t know what I thought. Holy shit, it’s still leaking. There’s a lot,” he added, laughing nervously.
“Yeah, there is. Come on, let’s go inside and tell Rania.”
“I’m all wet,” Dean stated, still looking startled. He obediently let Sam drag him inside, but they didn’t get far before another contraction hit. This time Dean bent over himself moaning, and Sam had to hold him up.
“You okay?”
“Hun-hun,” he rasped between short breaths. “That one really hurt. And - ah - fuck, there’s still water dripping. M’gonna make… a mess on the floor.”
“Who cares? Come on, breathe, Dean.”
“Yeah.”
The exam showed that the amniotic fluid was clear, which was good, according to Rania. She took another measurement of the cervix’s dilatation and found that Dean was about four centimeters. “The membranes’ rupture often accelerates things,” she added when Dean huffed, taking his feet out of the stirrups. “And you’ll feel the contractions a bit more, since the amniotic fluid is like a shock absorber.”
“Got it. Kind of guessed when the last one hit.”
“Now, would you like to take a shower? A bath is out of the question since the uterus’s entrance isn’t protected anymore, but a shower’s okay.”
Dean squirmed awkwardly into a sitting position and looked at his discarded wet pants and underwear, wrinkling his nose. “Yeah. Good idea.”
“I want Sam to go with you. Just to be safe.”
Rania’s shower stall was big enough to fit the both of them, and Sam started the water while Dean waited for another contraction to pass, holding on to the sink. Sam helped him into the shower where he immediately leaned against the tiled wall, exposing his chest and stomach to the water drops. He closed his eyes and hummed contentedly. “That’s actually awesome.”
“Want me to wash you?”
“Nice try, you pervert. Gimme the washcloth.”
Sam smiled. Dean didn’t seem in a hurry to get out, and that was alright with Sam. He leaned next to his brother and watched the way the water drops struck his swollen stomach and slid down the pale skin. He actually saw the next contraction starting before Dean even felt it. The round shape of his belly seemed to shrink on itself a bit, and there was something like a rush of blood coloring the skin pink in blotchy spots. Dean let out a surprised gasp and tried holding onto the tiles, but they were slippery-wet, and he had to buckle his knees to stay on his feet. Sam gently took his brother’s hands and settled them around his neck, then wrapped his arms around Dean’s waist. His brother was breathing noisily through his nose, eyes squeezed shut.
“Come on Dean, let it go. Lean on me.”
That was all it took. Dean’s head fell forward to rest on Sam’s chest, and he tightened his grip around Sam’s neck. “Fucking hurts,” he whispered.
“I know. I got you.”
The contraction passed but Dean didn’t move. Neither did Sam. “M’ a wuss,” Dean said, lips still pressed wetly to Sam’s chest.
“Don’t be stupid. Just let it go for the time being and then when it’s all over, we’ll never talk about it again. We’ll make a pact, with spit and all if you want.”
“Don’t be a smartass,” Dean said, lifting his head.
“Okay.”
“M’kind of tired. Wanna get out.”
There was a recognizable veil in Dean’s eyes. He did look tired. Sam shut the water off and suggested that he lie down for a bit, which he accepted immediately. He also let Sam dry him off and dress him in a clean pair of boxers and a tee, as if Sam’s half-humorous offer had really had an effect on him. Rania had no objections to Dean resting in the guest bedroom and even permitted a glass of water even though it seemed like things were finally beginning to speed up.
The guest room was almost dark with only a dim, bluish light passing through the curtains. Dean lay on his left side and frowned when Sam settled behind him, drawing the comforter over the both of them.
“You don’t have to, ya know.”
“I want to. Besides, I still have to time the contractions. Got my little notebook right here.”
“Course you do.”
Dean took Sam’s hand and wrapped it around his waist, cuddling closer to him. “No talking about this later, right?”
“Talk about what?”
“That’s the spirit.”
And they lay there. When Dean had his next contraction, he let Sam massage his back and talk him through it. He didn’t say a word and Sam could feel his tension giving way where he rested against him, waves of heat coming off of him. It was a surprise when Sam heard his breathing slowing down and deepening. Dean was on the verge of sleep. Some women did sleep between the contractions when the labor was long, Sam knew, but he’d thought Dean would be too tense to succumb to sleep. Apparently he’d been wrong. He reminded himself of all the restless nights Dean had gone through for the last month or so, of the constant worries causing that particular frown between his eyebrows.
The peaceful rest would come to an end all too soon.
Sam was careful not to move in the slightest, and when the next contraction hit, Dean didn’t wake completely. He moaned and tensed against Sam, mumbling something and shifting in on himself a little, but it only took Sam’s quiet and comforting whisper to help him drift back into a deeper sleep. If Dean could sleep for an hour or two before the delivery actually started, it would do him good.
Sam didn’t sleep, but he stopped timing the contractions so that he could just lie still. He lost track of the time after a while, as the pattern kept repeating itself. With each contraction, Dean would half wake, groaning almost silently, sometimes saying Sam’s name, but Sam held onto him, kept rubbing his back and soothing him back to sleep with quiet words and touches. Dean’s sleep wasn’t deep, but it was better than nothing.
Sam couldn’t quite remember when he felt the contraction pattern shift, but they progressively became stronger, he could tell by the way Dean’s belly was hardening under his hand and by the grunts and moans that weren’t all that quiet anymore. The time between the contractions also seemed to have shortened - not much, but still, and as the room became darker and darker, Sam realized that at least a couple of hours had passed since they had laid down. He moved slowly to withdraw his hand from under the cover and looked at his watch. It was almost eight thirty.
There was no way ten minutes had passed since the last contraction when the next one came. This time, Dean gasped and jolted in pain, turning onto his back, eyes open wide in the dark. Sam felt a warm liquid wetting the sheets near their joined hips and guessed that more amniotic fluid must have leaked. He sat up and bent over Dean, who was fighting with the sheets he was tangled in, trying to sit.
“Dean, you okay? Come on, breathe with me.”
“Need to sit. Hurts,” Dean croaked, pushing Sam away and succeeding in sitting up, legs falling off the side of the bed. He took short intakes of breath curled in on himself, his arms wrapped around his belly. Sam got off the bed and knelt next to him.
“Dean, you need to breathe more-”
“Shut up. Please. Just for a minute,” Dean said, between clenched teeth. He slowly relaxed, shoulders still bent and head tipped forward, then his body was wracked by a violent shiver. Sam risked a brush of his fingers against Dean’s neck.
“Are you alright?”
“Yeah. Yeah, just… It was a bad one.”
Dean wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and tried for a smile. “Did I sleep long?”
“Almost two hours.”
“Good. I’m… can you get me something to drink?”
“Course. Wanna lie back down?”
“No, my back’s killing me.”
Sam heard his joints pop as he unfolded himself, all of his body sore and damp with the sweat he and Dean had shared. He turned on the light, surprising Dean, and saw with alarm the way his brother looked, hair wet and plastered to his head, cheeks burning red and a grimace of pain quirking his mouth.
“I’ll be right back.”
“It’s okay, Sam,” Dean said in a pain-filled voice. “Just need to get myself together.”
Sam met Rania in the kitchen as she was coming out of the exam room.
“So? Did you boys get any sleep?”
“Dean did,” Sam said, opening the cupboards nervously to find a glass. “He’s thirsty,” he added.
“Yeah, okay, let me get the ice chips for you.”
“Oh. Right. Ice chips.”
“Sam, calm down. I’ll get them for you.”
“It’s just. He seems to be in a lot of pain.”
“That’s because the dilatation is progressing. Let’s get this to your brother and then I’ll check him, okay?” Rania said, calm and composed, holding a cup full of ice chips.
“Huh. Yeah.”
“Okay.”
Rania’s eyes were searching him, and there was some kind of warning in them. Sam took a deep breath and followed her.
He totally lost his cool when he saw Dean kneeling in front of the bed, his head laid on his arms where they were crossed on the mattress.
“Dean?”
“‘Nother one. Don’t touch me,” Dean gasped without moving.
“It’s only been five minutes since the last one,” Sam said, unable to keep the panic out of his voice.
This time, Rania’s silent warning was anything but subtle. She knelt down next to Dean. “Come on, Dean, don’t hold your breath. You gotta ride it, just like a wave.” She didn’t touch him, and her voice was authoritarian and soft at the same time. Dean moaned but seemed to relax a bit. When he finally raised his head, Sam realized he was still standing awkwardly near the door and that he wasn’t breathing either.
“Pain is getting worse? Rania asked.
“Yeah. Sorry. This… I feel better in this position.”
“No need to apologize. Here are your ice chips.”
Dean took the cup into his shaking hands and filled his mouth, crunching the cubes between his teeth. “Sam?” he asked after he was done.
“Yeah, Dean. M’here.” Sam took two giants steps to the bed and sat down.
“‘M okay, you know. Just…” Dean waved his hand dismissively.
Of course, Dean would still try to comfort Sam while he was in labor.
“I need to check you, Dean. Think you can walk to the exam room?”
“F’course I can,” Dean said, trying for a cocky smile.
He couldn’t really, as it turned out. His legs were shaky and unstable. He cursed and let Sam and Rania support him as they made their way - very slowly - to the exam room. They had just crossed the threshold when Dean stopped. “Fuck. Wait. There’s a - Jesus Christ - Sam, you gotta hold me, man.”
This time, Dean didn’t even try to keep quiet. He groaned, deep in his throat, and held onto Sam for dear life as Rania prepared the bed. There was a wet, steady noise that had to be the amniotic fluid dripping onto the floor and when Sam looked on the inside of Dean’s thighs, he saw that the liquid had a light pink shade to it. He didn’t remember reading anything about that. As a matter of fact, he didn’t remember anything at all about his numerous researches on pregnancy and was overwhelmed with a sense of panic that had him shaking almost as badly as Dean.
“It’s okay, Sam,” Rania said as if she was reading his mind. “When the cervix dilates there is some bleeding. The water is dragging it out, that’s all.”
“Okay,” Sam said, feeling like he could breathe again. “You’re okay, Dean.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Dean mumbled into Sam’s chest. He stepped back and looked down at his legs. “Aww, hell. M’sorry.”
“Come on, Dean. It’s not like you have any control over it,” Rania snapped. She took him by the arm and dragged him to the bed. “We’ll do the exam now while you’re between contractions. Sam, help your brother onto the bed.”
The exam was even quicker than the others. “A nice seven centimeters, how about that, Dean?” she asked, rapidly covering his legs.
“Really? Three more to go?”
“Yes. And I’d prefer if you stay here because things can go very quickly from now on and I want to be ready. I need to touch your belly now, if you don’t mind.”
Dean made a dismissive movement with his hand and exposed his stomach with the other. “Okay,” Rania said pressing softly on the skin. “She’s still in position.”
There was this very subtle edge to her voice, and when she turned back, Sam caught a worried expression on her face that he didn’t like. At all.
“I’m gonna get you dry underwear,” he told Dean, following Rania as she went into the bathroom to wash her hands.
“What is it?” he asked in a low, urgent, voice.
“What? Nothing. Like I said, everything is all right.” But Rania didn’t quite looked at him.
“Is something wrong with the baby? Is that it?”
“Sam,” Rania cut him off in an impatient voice. “There is nothing wrong with Dean, nor the baby. I’d just hoped that she would have settled a bit further down. She’s still high in Dean’s belly, but that’s not abnormal or even a reason to worry. It just means that the pushing phase will probably last longer.”
“When the dilatation is complete?”
“Yeah. It will be harder on him. Now, this is the time when he needs you the most, so get back in there and try to hold yourself together, okay?” Rania patted Sam on the arm with a softer smile. “Come on. I’m very satisfied with how everything is going so far. Trust me, Sam.”
Sam nodded, still feeling uneasy but determined not to show it. He took the duffle and went back to the exam room. Dean was sitting on the edge of the bed, moaning through another contraction. Sam quickly went to sit next to him and rubbed his back in an almost frantic motion.
“It’s almost…” Dean panted. “Almost over.”
Sam helped him into his fresh - and last - pair of boxers. The lights over the bed were white and intense. He fiddled with the switch to dull them, then settled next to Dean.
“Okay, how do you wanna do this?”
“Wha?”
“Sit, or lie down or even walk in this room. Which position is more comfortable for you?”
“When I was kneeling in front of the bed in the guestroom. Which I can’t do with this freaking hospital bed because it won’t lower down enough.”
“Okay, let’s try this, then,” Sam said, starting to fiddle with the electric bed switches until he found the one that controlled the head, which he raised to a seventy degree angle.
Dean rapidly got what Sam was doing and, with a last dubious look, he knelt on the bed and leaned his arms on the mattress. Sam put a couple of pillows between the mattress and his belly, so that his upper body was resting on them and his belly had some space.
“How does that feel?”
Dean glared at him. “I’ll tell you when the next contraction comes. I don’t even wanna think about how stupid I must look right now so this goes into the never-talking-about-this-again category.”
“Deal.”
“Now, cover me with something. I’m freaking freezing.”
Turned out that the position worked and Dean refused to move after the next contraction. Sam sat on the bed next to him and helped him however he could. Rania hovered nearby but keeping quiet, and Sam was kind of proud of himself because he felt like he had regained his self-control.
It only lasted half an hour before Dean’s contractions began to hit harder. He muffled the pained noises that escaped him against his arms, but sweat had started to drip down his neck and forehead. He was swearing between small intakes of breath now, grunting, trying to keep control over each contraction, but steadily losing it. They were coming close together, about four to five minutes apart, but they lasted much longer - some of them close to a minute. Still, Dean was talking between them, crunching ice chips and alternatively asking Sam to remove the blanket or to add another one. It was 10:15 when Dean lost it during a contraction.
“Come on, Dean, breathe,” Sam coached.
Dean cried out, turning his head toward him. “You fucking breathe! Fuck… can’t…” Then a tear escaped his eyes and he buried his face in the pillow. “Son of a bitch. Shit. Shit. Shit.”
“It’s okay, Dean, almost over.”
“Shut up, for God’s sake, Sam. Shut up!” he yelled, gripping the pillows.
“Okay. I’m sorry. Just-”
“Can’t do this. You gotta… I don’t know… I don’t…”
The contraction was ebbing, but Dean kept cursing and moaning, shivering violently, and Sam felt his heart clenching at the sight. He had always hated to see Dean suffering, but this time was worse. Couldn’t do anything, couldn’t give him pain killers that he would down with a glass of whiskey, couldn’t sew him up or wrench his dislocated shoulder back into its socket or take him, bloody and half-conscious, to the nearest emergency room. And he heard himself saying that he was sorry. For everything and anything he could think of. Rania suddenly appeared next to him with a wet cloth and softly wiped Dean’s neck and face. He actually leaned into it, sighing reflexively.
“You’re doing good, Dean. I know it’s hard, but try to relax for the next one.” She turned to Sam and asked him gently if he needed to take five minutes.
He’d almost said yes when he suddenly felt a wave of jealousy and possessiveness taking over him. He was the one Dean needed. Dean and the baby were his, and as much as it was unfair to Rania, who was really doing a terrific job, Sam wanted be the one wiping Dean’s forehead with a cold washcloth.
“I’m good,” he said, sitting on the bed next to Dean.
His brother raised his head a bit, looking confused and young and scared. “Sammy?”
“I’m right here, Dean.”
“I’m being an ass. Sorry.”
“No you’re not. Don’t talk. Save your strength.”
Rania left the washcloth on Dean’s neck and stood back a bit. “If you feel some pressure down your birth canal, or the urge to push, you gotta tell me, okay?”
“Yeah.” Dean closed his eyes and braced himself.
The contractions kept coming. Sometimes Dean just moaned, sometimes he couldn’t seem to stand Sam’s touch, sometimes he snapped at him or cursed very creatively, but Sam never left his spot. Then the insults and the shouts stopped as the contractions drew closer and closer until there was barely a couple of minutes between them. Dean didn’t seem aware of what was going on anymore. He kept wailing like a wounded animal, saying Sam’s name and sometimes sobbing in pain. It was one of the hardest things Sam had ever done. He had been prepared to see his brother in pain, but somehow, the obscure part of his mind that was associated with everything big-brother related had kept thinking that Dean would go through this with his bad-ass attitude ‘til the end.
“Sam, shit, can’t do this anymore.” Dean’s voice was raw and broken.
“You’re doing it,” Sam replied in his ear, caressing his hair.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Help me, need to move.”
Dean was trying to lie on his side. Sam helped him with careful movements, couldn’t help but see that his underwear and the inside of his thighs were sticky with fluid mixed with blood. He lowered the head of the bed a bit while another contraction wracked Dean’s body and he drew his knees up to his belly, letting out a long whimpering noise. He caught Sam’s hand and squeezed compulsively. “Something’s wrong,” he rasped.
“What? Dean, what’s wrong?”
“It’s burning… down there. Sam it… shit, it’s like. Fucking hell! Another one already, it’s…”
His eyes widened suddenly, two spots of green in his pasty face. “I think I need to push.”
It was almost eleven at night, July 5.
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