Hunter's Lullaby: Chapter seven
Chapter 7
Hampton Falls, January 24
Sam’s job at the bookstore was going smoothly. He was working forty hours a week and had every other weekend off. The store was called Green’s Books, after the owner. Leonard Green, a tall and reserved middle aged man, had (luckily) been more impressed by Sam’s knowledge of literature and old books than his experience in Dublin. Sam had always felt at ease in a library or a bookstore and this time wasn’t any different. The other employees were nice enough and not too curious about Sam’s past. He preferred to stay by himself when he could; he was polite but distant, very protective of his private life and intended to keep it that way. Sam was well aware of his and Dean’s situation. He couldn’t take the risk to get closer to people for now.
Finding a job had been more complicated for his brother, whose frustration had been growing more and more with each day he had to stay back home “like I’m your fucking housewife or something”. He couldn’t work as a mechanic, get hired on a work site or any other kind of physical job because it wouldn’t be safe for the baby. He had insisted it was the only thing that he knew how to do. “You could totally do my bookstore job,” Sam had pointed to him one night. “Stop saying I’m the smart one as if you were an idiot. We both know it ain’t true.”
Still, working, for Dean, meant something physical, something that would make him sweat and ache after a long day. He had been at a loss for what to do with himself otherwise. In the end, Sam had been the one who had found him a job at the Portsmouth Community Center. It was easy enough, and if the money was almost negligible, it allowed Dean to get out a little bit and to feel like he was actually doing something useful. So, every weekday he would deliver dinner to elder people who lived alone. They were part of the Community Center Program for the Elderly, whose goal was to maintain their autonomy at home for as long as possible. The work was taking three hours of Dean’s time, at the most, but at least he could drive a bit. And if he had been anything but enthusiastic about this job when he had first started it, he had learned to enjoy it. He would tell Sam about every little thing his clients would do or tell him and seemed to appreciate their company, which, to be fair, Sam had been surprised about. Dean could be socially skilled when he wanted to, but it had to have an ultimate goal, like getting someone to talk about a thing he’d seen, or hooking up with a girl (well, not for the last eight months or so). He tended to be impatient, even a bit patronizing, with normal people who didn’t know what was really going on out there.
It made Sam wonder, sometimes, what kind of a man Dean would’ve been had their mother lived, and what kind of a man he himself would’ve become.
He thought about that while waiting for his brother to pick him up, freezing his ass off in front of the bookstore at five in the afternoon. He had a bag tucked under his arm and smiled to himself, thinking about Dean’s reaction when he would see what was inside.
It had happened two days ago. Sam had been half sleeping on his cereal bowl, waiting for the coffee to be ready, when he had heard a loud thump coming from their room upstairs. He had found Dean in his boxer briefs, standing on a pile of clothes, short of breath and with his face beet red.
“Dean?”
“Don’t. Say. Anything.”
“I didn’t-”
“My freaking jeans don’t fit me anymore!” Dean had snapped. “Can’t button them. How is that even possible if I didn’t gained one single pound since I’ve been cursed?”
It was true, but if Dean hadn’t gained weight, he had stopped losing it. He did looked thinner, but for the last week or so, Sam had noticed a very small expansion of his belly below his navel. And Dean’s hips seemed slightly larger than before.
Standing there in front of his brother and thinking about the best way to tell him that without having him throwing a fit, Sam had jumped in surprise when Dean had pointed an accusing finger at him, shouting: “Stop looking at it!”
“Wh-What?”
“My belly. Stop it.”
“Dean, you… You must’ve known that this was coming, right? I mean, the baby is growing and…”
“I am not gonna wear stupid sweatpants for the next seven months, you hear me?”
“Yeah.”
Sam had fetched a pair of his own jeans in his drawer and had handled it to Dean like a peace offering. “Maybe you can try…?”
Without a word, Dean had snatched the pants and had put them on. He had a hard time getting the zipper up, and the button had looked on the verge of popping out from the pressure. The jeans were too long and pooling around Dean’s feet. “I look stupid.”
“No you don’t.”
“Fucking yes, I do. Anyway, they’re not gonna fit me anymore in a week if I keep going like this.”
He would, but Sam loved life too much to point that out.
Dean had sighed loudly and had sat on the bed, looking down at himself. “I hate this.”
“It’s ok, Dean. Come on. We’ll find a way.”
“Oh please, stop pitying me.”
“Ok.”
“Ok?”
“Well, what do you want me to say? Your belly is gonna get bigger because you’re pregnant. Nothing we can do about it.”
“I know. But shit, just as the freaking morning sickness starts to back off, now there’s this.”
“It doesn’t have to be a big deal. Besides, you look sexy in sweat pants.”
“I always look sexy,” Dean had pointed out, looking more resigned than angry.
He had kept wearing Sam’s jeans that day, and the next. But Sam had a plan.
The Impala finally came to view and Sam got in, greeted by a nod from his brother who was humming a song with the radio.
“How was your day, honey?”
“Shut up,” Dean replied, half amused, half annoyed.
Sam sniffed the air in the car. “Let me guess… Meat loaf?”
“Yeah. It was meatloaf day. Apple crumbles for dessert.”
“Was it any good?”
Dean blushed and shrugged. “Not bad. What? Mrs Gilesby doesn’t like dessert.”
“Aww, Dean.”
“She kept saying that a fine young man like me needed to eat.”
“Do I need to be jealous?”
“Of a ninety-year-old lady with a cane? You don’t stand a chance.”
They kept talking until they reached the house and Sam offered to cook while Dean took a shower. He didn’t protest. He hated cooking and was happy to leave it to Sam. When they’d been growing up, their cooking skills had been limited to boiling water and heating canned food, but Sam had managed to learn a bit more back when he was studying at Stanford. He never cooked complicated meals, but made sure that Dean had everything he and the baby needed. Before he started cutting the vegetable, he pulled out the raspberry pie he had bought earlier from the bag and hid it in the oven.
Dean had forgotten about his birthday. It was a thing he had done since he was a teenager. Sam often wondered if it was because they had never really celebrated birthdays when they were young and that Dean preferred to forget he had one rather than realize nobody had remembered.
Dean’s last birthday had been worse than his last Christmas before going to Hell. Sam had wanted to celebrate it, but he couldn’t get himself to do it, his emotions so raw it had been difficult just to go through the day. He remember lying down his bed that night, trying to find the good thing to say, but his words had been trapped in his throat, and suddenly Dean’s low voice had came from the other bed. “It’s ok, Sammy. Try to relax and go to sleep.”
Sam blinked furiously to chase tears away and started chopping the peppers. It was behind them. Everything was alright now. Dean wasn’t going anywhere.
They sat at the kitchen counter to eat. Dean was looking a lot more comfortable since he’d changed into sweatpants and was swallowing his beef and rice with appetite. He always kept his vegetables for last, like a small kid trying to postpone the inevitable, but he did eat them, and that alone was a small victory. Since the morning sickness had started to fade, his old hunger was coming back, with a vengeance actually. He could drink a whole liter of apple juice when he woke up in the morning. That was kind of scary actually.
Sam was cleaning the plates when he saw Dean looking for some dessert in the cupboard. He stopped him.
“Why?”
“I bought a special dessert today.”
Dean rolled his eyes but sat back while Sam took the pie out and put it in front of him. A small candle was sticking into the middle. Dean frowned. “What is…? Oh fuck. We’re January twenty-four, aren’t we?”
“Yep. Happy birthday, Dean.”
Dean blushed and fidgeted on his chair while Sam was lightening up the candle. “Oh, come on, dude, you don’t have to.”
“I’m not gonna sing. But still, you have to make your birthday wish. Blow.”
Still looking uncomfortable, Dean blew rapidly the small flame.
“What did you wish for?”
“Can’t tell.”
“It’s raspberry.”
“Yeah. Looks awesome.”
They took the pie back in the living room and settled in front of the fire place. It was a bit sad, seeing Dean nervous and blushing about something like his anniversary, as if he couldn’t stand the attention.
“Hey, can I have a blowjob as my birthday present?” he asked, going for cocky and mischievous instead of uneasy.
Sam had to laugh. “Yeah. You can.”
“Great.” Dean smiled, his mouth red from the pie filling.
“But I have another present.”
Sam took the bag on the floor next to the couch and handled it to Dean who gave it a suspicious look. “What is it?”
“A surprise. Not as great as a blowjob but still.
Dean looked into the bag cautiously and frowned, pulling out two pairs of brand new jeans, the kind he used to buy all the time. “Jeans?”
“Yeah but...”
Dean unfolded the first pair and saw the maternity panel that had replaced the upper part of the pants: instead of a zipper and buttons, there was a soft and extensible dark blue cotton piece with a large rubber band sewed inside the rim. It was adjustable.
“What is this?”
“A maternity panel. It expands as your stomach grow.”
“Sam?”
“Yeah?”
“You bought me girl pants?”
“No, you idiot. I bought you men’s jeans and got them modified by a needlewoman in this little shop down the street where I work.”
Dean rose slowly from the couch, still looking a bit uncertain. “Wha’d you tell her?”
“Oh, some crap about my wife being more comfortable in men’s jeans and me wanting to surprise her.”
“Okay. Guess I’ll try them on.”
Dean changed into the jeans in front of Sam, then looked down himself thoughtfully. “It… They’re kind of baggy around the waist,” he said, pulling at the extendible fabric patch.
“Well, they have to fit ‘till the end. Besides, if you wear a long enough shirt, nobody will notice.”
“Er. Yeah. Thanks.”
Dean was blushing again, looking awkward and unsure in his brand new jeans. This was another step toward the acceptance of the changes he was going through. He was scared, Sam could feel it and again, he was overwhelmed with the urge to protect and reassure him.
“What do you say about having your other present now?” he asked.
“I’m ready,” Dean smiled back, apparently relieved to get back to something more familiar than his growing belly.
They started kissing lazily right there on the couch, Dean straddling Sam’s thighs and pressing his ass on his crotch until Sam couldn’t take it anymore, his length painfully hard in his jeans.
“Dean, lie down.”
Dean stood up and got rid of his pants and underwear, his naked body catching the moving lights of the flames, orangey and dark shadows dancing on his pale skin. He was already breathing hard, his cock pink and leaking copiously against his belly. Sam licked his lips and pressed his palm against his crouch.
“Come on, Dean,” he whispered, undressing himself.
“Yeah.” Dean lay down on couch and stroked himself a couple of times, hissing between his teeth. Sam settled himself between Dean’s parted legs, touching himself to relieve some pressure. He took his brother in his hands, teasing and playing, rolling his balls in his palm, and Dean groaned, taking Sam by the shoulders and pulling until they could kiss again, rougher and harder than before.
Sam was so lost in the divine sensation of his Dean’s warm and responding body that he forgot about his painful nipples and took one between his fingers, twisting it softly. “Damn it!” Dean gasped, his whole body shuddering.
“Oh, shit, Dean, m’sorry.” Sam pulled back, searching his brother’s face to see what kind of damage he’d just done.
Dean seemed puzzled. He frowned. “No. Wait,” he said brushing his fingers against the dark nub. He closed his eyes and arched his back, moaning.
“They don’t hurt anymore?”
“No. Fuck, Sam. It feels… It’s intense.” Dean seemed like he was unable to stop himself from pulling and tugging at his nipples. Sam felt a fresh stream of precome sliding on Dean’s length to his hip where it was pressed.
“God, Dean. Let me. Bet I could make you come just from playing with them.”
Dean seemed very turned on by the idea, biting his lips and pulling harder at his nipple. Sam pulled his hand away and got to work, pressing his mouth against one and playing with the other, feeling powerful and a bit crazy with need and desire. Dean was writhing and tensing under him, his hands clenched on the couch’s cushions, pleading - freaking pleading - Sam to pull, to suck harder. His hips were jerking up in small, convulsive movements. He was covered with sweat and short of breath.
“Sammy, M’close. Come on, man. M’freaking close”,” he panted.
Sam let go of the hot nipple he was sucking on and kissed Dean again, draping himself over him as close as possible, both of his hands trapped between them, working the swollen nubs of Dean’s chest. He felt Dean’s orgasm building, the way his voice raised and stopped forming words replaced by soft and impatient: “Oh. Oh. Oh.” Then, as Sam twisted his fingers forcefully, Dean stopped breathing, his face twisted in a painful expression, mouth opened slack and eyes rolling on the back of his head. “Sam, fucking hell!” he cried, before shuddering violently against him, the smell of his semen filling Sam’s nostril and the feel of it spilling on his skin making him groan.
Dean’s orgasm was long and powerful. He seemed totally unaware of his surroundings, riding the wave, shaking, face flushed and eyes closed shut. Sam rose on his knees and gripped himself, needing just a few hard tugs before he was coming all over his hand and Dean’s quivering stomach. He kind of lost it for a few seconds, dizzy, his whole body tingling with pleasure.
“Dude, can’t breathe.” Dean’s voice was coming like a distorted echo. Sam opened one eyes lazily, realizing he was crushing his brother’s body. He rose on his elbows, trying to get his breath under control. His long bangs were tickling Dean’s face who shivered again. He looked lazy and content, eyelids heavy, a small smile on his face.
“That was one of the hottest things I’ve ever saw,” Sam admitted, planting a soft kiss on Dean’s cheek.
Dean blushed over his already red face. “Well…” he said, shrugging.
“Happy birthday Dean. Love you, man.”
“Didn’t get my present,” Dean mumbled, trying to muffle a yawn.
“We have ‘til midnight.”
“That we do.”
::: :::
Hampton Falls, February 1
It had been a long day and Sam barely managed to stay awake as they were heading home. He had been working until nine pm, sorting through a new book order that had arrived earlier that day, and his eyes hurt from reading the small characters on the internet bill.
He was aware, however, of the way Dean kept shifting in his seat, like he couldn’t find a position comfortable enough. He was wearing the modified jeans Sam had bought him, so it couldn’t be because he felt too restricted. “You alright?” he finally asked between yawns.
Dean nodded, apparently focused on the road that was dark and slippery after a new snow fall. Sam made a mental note to check in the new book he had just bought about pregnancy. He had gathered quite a collection since the beginning of the pregnancy and often felt like he wouldn’t be satisfied until he knew everything there was to know about the subject by heart. Dean tended to mock him each time Sam brought home a new book, but there had been a few occasions where Sam had came back from work finding that the neat pile had been moved. Dean wouldn’t talk about it, of course, but he sometimes came up with information he had to have read, like yesterday morning, where he had picked a pear in the fruit bowl and had said: “He’s already this size, you know.” Then, he had made a face and put the pear back, picking an apple instead, as if the thought of eating something the size of the fetus had made him very uncomfortable.
“Sam, we’re here.”
Shaking himself out of sleep, Sam blinked and saw the house buried under a cover of fresh snow. He would have to clear the alley with a shovel before calling it a night and, as unpleasant as the thought appeared to him, he didn’t complain. He had insisted that Dean avoid the most physical tasks around the house and the conversation had almost turned into a fight, with Dean shouting at him that he was pregnant, not dying. So, no need to bring that up again.
It took him almost an hour, and by the time he finally made it inside, the thought of a fluffy pillow and crisp sheets had dissolved into an unreachable dream. Dean was waiting for him in the kitchen, folding socks and shirts. There was a cup of cocoa still steaming on the table.
“You didn’t have to wait for me.”
“What am I? A five-year-old? It’s not even ten thirty.”
Dean, however, couldn’t even convince himself that he wasn’t tired, and he picked up the folded clothes before announcing that he would wait for Sam in their room.
As he turned to exit the kitchen, he winced and had a strange tilt of his hips. Sam noticed that he seemed to walk more bow-legged than usual, and slower. He decided to let it go and finished his cocoa.
As it turned out, Dean wasn’t asleep when Sam joined him, and after ten minutes, Sam never felt so awake. Dean kept moving and shifting, turning on his side, then flat on his back, rearranging the sheets and the pillows. After receiving an accidental but painful blow in the ribs, Sam couldn’t help himself anymore. “Jesus, Dean, you trying to kill me?”
“Sorry, princess. Was just trying to get comfortable,” Dean replied, huffing in annoyance.
But he lay still afterwards, and Sam fell asleep rapidly.
He dreamed. Of something moving in his arms. He never dreamed of the actual baby, but all of his dreams were related to him, one way or another. This time, he could feel the soft brush of tiny fingers against his skin, he could smell something warm and sugary.
“Sam.”
…And it was good. It felt good. Sam wanted to open his eyes, but his dream wouldn’t let him. He kept holding onto the small body, careful not to let it go.
“SAM!”
Sam sat on the bed and blinked in the darkness, confused. “Dean?”
“Fuck, Sam. It hurts.”
The words slowly registered in Sam’s sleepy mind. It hurts. Dean was hurt. The baby.
Turning his head, he saw Dean sitting on the side of the bed, bent over himself. Finally coming to his senses, he jumped out of bed to kneel in front of his brother, turning on the nightstand lamp at the same time.
“Dean, what’s wrong?”
Dean didn’t look at him but moaned in pain. A trickle of sweat glided on the tip of his nose and fell on his sweatpants. “Dean, is it the baby?”
“Don’t know. It’s like… something is trying to tear me apart from the inside. Shit.”
Dean was shaken by a violent shiver. Sam forced him to raise his chin and was scared by the look of agony that was tightening his feature. “God, Dean. When did it start?”
“About half an hour ago. Sorry I didn’t-”
Dean couldn’t finish as another spasm of pain made him fold on himself again. He blindingly grabbed Sam’s hand and pressed it hard. Sam tried to remain calm. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m gonna call Rania. Hold on.”
He ran to the other side of the room and took his phone in his jean’s pocket. He cursed and swore as he was searching for one of Rania’s phone numbers in his speed dial list.
It was close to one in the morning but Rania still picked up on the first ring. “Sam, what’s going on?”
Sam babbled some nonsense, watching Dean who seemed on the verge of falling face-first off the bed. Rania seemed to understand quickly enough. “Can you move him? Sam?”
“Yeah, I think I can. What’s going on? Is he…” Sam walked a few steps from the bed and added in a very low voice. “Is he losing the baby?”
“I don’t know, Sam, but you have to get him here as soon as possible. Can you do that?”
“Yes, but-”
“Ok. I’m gonna wait for you. And drive safe. We don’t want you to get arrested, you understand me?”
“Yes.”
“Call me back if anything else happens. Try to keep your brother calm.”
“Yes.”
Sam hung up and got his attention back to Dean who was looking back at him, his eyes wide in fear and confusion.
“We’re going to Rania’s. Everything will be fine.”
“Stop it,” Dean rasped. “Nothing is fine. Am I miscarrying, Sam?”
“Don’t talk like that. Come on, let me help you.”
Sam put a clean pair of socks on Dean’s feet and helped him to put an old long sleeve shirt on his t-shirt. “Think you can walk?”
“I’ll try,” Dean whispered, clenching his jaw.
He couldn’t unfold himself completely and had to lean heavily on Sam, but he managed to walk. The pain seemed to coming and going like a wave. Sam could feel Dean’s body tensing, then relaxing before starting all over again. He thought about contractions, about the similarities between the patterns, then shook his head violently. He would not go there, not until they knew what was really happening.
They were half down the stairs when Dean stopped, gripping at Sam’s arm to steady himself. “Wait. Wait… I have to… have to take a break, I can’t…” he panted, wiping sweat from his face.
“Dean, I know it hurts but we have to get going. I can carry you, if it-”
“Why?” Dean snapped, releasing Sam’s arm and leaning heavily on the wall. “Why are you in such an hurry to have Rania telling me that I’ve lost him, huh?”
“Dean, we don’t know that.”
“S’my fault. My hips felt kind of sore for the last few days, mostly when I was sitting for too long. It wasn’t bad, but fuck, I didn’t tell you because I was scared you would put that on the time I spend sitting in the car and I didn’t wanna stop working.”
Dean winced as another fresh layer of sweat covered his face. Then he laughed - the kind of laugh that makes you cringe. “Isn’t it one of the stupidest, most selfish reasons you’ve ever heard? I didn’t tell because I wanted to drive my fucking car? What kind of a jerk does that makes me, Sam?”
Then, Dean bent down and threw up between his feet. If Sam hadn’t caught him, he would’ve fall forward down the stairs. “Okay, enough. We gotta get going, Dean. Blaming yourself is not gonna solve anything right now.”
“Sam, I can’t-”
“It’s okay, I got you.”
Without waiting any longer, Sam practically carried Dean down the stairs and then in the car, after a quick stop to put their boots and jackets on. Dean had to lie in the backseat, the sitting position being too painful. He didn’t say a word as Sam was covering him with the Impala’s blanket, curling on himself to try and ease the pain.
Sam drove fast, kept looking at the Dean in the rearview and asking him how he was feeling - to which Dean inevitably groaned in answer, but Sam could go with that.
Rania was waiting for them on the porch of his house. She came to the car as soon as Sam had cut the engine and helped him getting Dean out of the back seat. “Come on, Dean. Just a few steps and then you’ll be able to rest,” she said in a steady and reassuring voice, but Sam could tell she was worried by Dean’s appearance. His brother wouldn’t meet his eyes, or Rania’s, and he was shaking so badly in their arms that Sam was close to carrying him when they finally reached the front door. There was a wheelchair waiting for Dean. He didn’t protest when Rania asked him to sit and rolled him through the house to the clinic. Everything there was set and ready. There was even table covered with what looked like surgical instruments. Sam felt his blood leaving his head, hit once again by the gravity of the situation. Rania pressed his arm softly. “Hey, try to relax. I prefer being ready for everything than wasting time looking for what I need.”
“Gonna be sick again,” Dean grunted, and Sam barely had the time to grab a trashcan by the exam table before his brother started retching and dry-heaving.
That was the pain, Sam thought. Dean had always had a very high tolerance to it - John had made sure of that - and had become a master at hiding it as long as he could. One of the sign Sam had learned to decipher through the years to evaluate Dean’s level of pain was the sickness. Some people - including Dean - reacted to excruciating pain that way. It took a lot for Dean to reach that point, like having his arm crushed between a wall and a drawer by a poltergeist.
Nothing good could come out of this. How could he let himself think that bad luck would finally release its grip on them, especially after last year? Did he never learn? Sam himself felt sick, as he helped Dean to settle on the exam table. His brother’s face was the color of ashes and he couldn’t hold the moan escaping his throat as he moved.
Rania was already setting the ultrasound machine. “When did it start?”
“Tonight,” Sam said. “But he told me he had felt kind of sore for the last few days.”
“Sore? Where? Dean?”
“My hips and my huh… my pelvis.”
“But not deep inside your belly?”
Dean hissed and closed his eyes for a moment. “Not really. Kind of all around it.”
“And now?”
“Same thing, but like… a hundred time worse. Feels like invisible hands are pulling at me, trying to split me in two.”
“Okay, let’s take a look,” Rania said, pressing the sound on Dean’s belly.
Sam bit his lips. Dean pressed his palms on his eyes, as a small kid would do to protect himself from a scary sight. Rania was working quickly and silently. Then: “There he is,” she announced, and Sam saw the fetus on the screen, already looking more human than three weeks before.
“Is he…?”
“Look, he’s moving his legs” Rania said and couldn’t hide the smile that lit up her face. “He seems fine. But I’ll listen to the heart just to make sure.”
Sam saw a chair next to the table and let himself drop on it, grateful for Rania’s foresight. The young woman found the heart and isolated it like last time. Even before the strong heartbeat had filled the room, Sam could see it pumping.
“He’s ok. Everything looks normal.” Rania sighed, blowing on a dark curl that was falling in front of her eyes.
“Thank God,” Sam whispered, realizing how scared he had been of losing the baby. He looked at Dean and saw that his brother hadn’t moved and was still covering his face. He shook his arm lightly. “Dean? The baby’s fine. Can’t you hear his heartbeat?”
“What?” Dean asked in a sleepy, distant voice.
“The baby is alright. Look.”
Dean slowly lowered his hands and peek at the screen, seemingly unable to believe either Sam, or the baby’s heartbeat. “He’s not…?”
“He’s perfectly fine,” Rania added.
Dean let out a dry sob and squeezed his eyes shut, visibly trying to get himself under control.
“Ok, enough,” Rania said sternly, fetching a syringe on the table nearby. It was filled with a clear liquid.
“Wait, what is it?” Dean asked.
“Morphine.”
“Isn’t it bad for the baby?”
“No. Morphine is considered a safe painkiller during pregnancy. Besides, the stress pain is causing to your body right now can be much more damaging.”
Rania’s tone was implacable. Dean let her do the injection and laid very quietly as she was going on with the ultrasound, looking for signs of internal bleeding or anything, really, that could explain the pain. Everything seemed normal, and she proceeded with the physical exam. Dean’s pressure was low, his heartbeat was a bit too fast, but it could be explain by the pain. Rania then started to press lightly on Dean’s belly until she reached the hips. Dean’s reaction was immediate: he tried to jerk away, cursing. “Fucking hell, stop it.”
“I’m sorry”,” Rania said, pulling Dean’s layers back on his stomach. “I’m done, anyway.”
“What’s wrong with him?” Sam asked.
“I’m not sure, but my best guess is that it has something to do with the curse.”
“Like what?”
Rania frowned. “Well, it’s not an infection or a miscarriage. It’s really located around the hips and pelvis. Some women, at this stage of their pregnancy, experience some light pain in these areas because their ligaments are stretching and the pelvis itself is extending, getting ready to make way to a much bigger uterus and preparing for the birth. As far as I know, Dean has been going through the same symptoms at the same stages since the beginning of his pregnancy, only more intensely. If his body is changing to accommodate the presence of the baby, it has much more work to do than a woman’s one. Men are not physically designed to bear a child, you know.”
“So what now?”
“I’d like to keep him here for a few hours, to see if the morphine’s working. Do you know how to administrate shots?”
“I might need a little refreshing but it’s not a problem.”
“Then maybe you can take Dean home later this morning.”
“But… is he going to be like that for long?”
“M’here, y’know,” Dean mumbled, voice slurred and eyes glassy from the morphine.
“It’s a first trimester problem and doesn’t last more than a few weeks for pregnant women. It comes and goes, varies in intensity. I don’t think it will last long for Dean, not at this level. I’m… fairly confident it won’t.”
Fairly confident still wasn’t enough for Sam. Dean couldn’t possibly be in so much pain for more than a few days, but what could she do; what could any of them do?
“Dean. We’re gonna move you to the bed, what do you say?”
“Ok, yeah.”
Dean started to rise slowly on his elbows. He was still shaking slightly but his face had gained some color. “You sure the baby’s fine?” he asked, lowering his eyes.
“Yes, I’m sure.”
Dean seemed to relax, and could even walk by himself to the bed. Rania gave him and Sam some privacy, turning off all the lights and leaving only the one over the bed. Sam pulled out Dean’s boots, but when he tried to help him with his coat, Dean shook him off. “M’alright, Sam.”
“No, you’re not. Let me help.” Sam tried to grip his sleeve again. This time, Dean pushed at him with a groan of pain.
“I said m’fine, damn it!”
Sam crouched in front of him, gathering all the patience he had left. “Listen, Dean. I know you were scared of losing the baby. I was too, but-”
“Sam please shut up. I’m so freaking tired.”
Sam was too shaken himself to deal with Dean’s issues for the moment, so he stood back and watched him pulling off his vest and his sweater, then getting under the blankets, carefully lying on his side.
“Feeling a bit better?”
Dean nodded without opening his eyes.
“Want me to turn off the light?”
“Whatever.”
“Ok, then.”
Sam sat back on his chair and watched Dean sleep, wondering what was going through his head and what state he’d be in when he would wake up.
A few minutes later, Rania came back with a steaming cup of tea and handled it to him without a word. She checked on Dean, then pulled another chair and sat next to Sam.
“He’s gonna be fine,” she said.
“Yeah. That was kinda scary, you know? I really thought everything was over,” Sam admitted, feeling relieved to talk about it with someone.
“I was worried it would turn out to be a miscarriage. But in the same time, if the curse has been powerful enough to make the pregnancy work for Dean’s body so far, I don’t see why it would turn against itself now. A curse is meant to be fulfilled.”
“Didn’t think about it that way.”
“To tell the truth, I’m pretty confident Dean’s gonna be able to carry the baby to term.”
“It… doesn’t seem real. I mean: I know it is, I’ve seen the fetus and the way Dean’s body is changing and all but still. Can’t picture the baby. M’trying, though.”
“Well, it’s the same thing for most parents-to-be, or uncle-to-be in your case. Add to that the negligible fact that your brother is the one pregnant… It’s pretty understandable.”
Sam felt lighter, hearing those words from Rania. He hadn’t even realized that guilt was a weight he’d been carrying for a few weeks now, as if he didn’t deserve to be the father of the baby because he felt he didn’t love him enough. So small a human being - the size of a pear. He blinked away the tears that were pooling in his eyes.
“Thanks. For everything you’re doing for us. I mean… we’re strangers to you and-”
“Oh please, shut up,” Rania replied. “I don’t do too well with this sort of conversation.”
“Well, at least you and Dean have something in common,” Sam smiled.
“I’m a doctor, Sam. That’s what I’m supposed to do. It doesn’t change a thing if my patient has been possessed by a nasty spirit or crushed by a car.”
Sam nodded and drank the rest of his tea. “Dean. He’s gonna feel responsible for what’s happening, even though it’s not his fault.”
“It isn’t.”
“You don’t know him. He can be a stubborn bastard sometimes.”
“Well there’s another thing your brother and I have in common, then.”
Sam laughed silently and looked back at Dean’s body curled on the bed, wondering where his almighty big brother had gone.
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