Seasons Come and Go (But I Will Never Change)

[salire]

Title: Seasons Come and Go (But I Will Never Change)
Type: fandom, MPreg
Pairing: Dean/Sam
Word Count: ~4600
Rating: R
Author’s Note: This was originally written for this prompt here on spn_hardcore : Dean and Sam gets separated in the forest. While Dean looks for his heavily pregnant brother and 4 year old son, Sam gets trapped in a cave with their son. As he tries to protect his son, himself and his unborn child, Sam goes into labor. Happy ending please.
Warnings: mpreg, some gore, graphic labor, incest
Summary: Blood is everywhere; the carpet of the motel room they’ve been staying in is so drenched with it that it looks almost black.


Blood is everywhere; the carpet of the motel room they’ve been staying in is so drenched with it that it looks almost black. There isn’t a body or pieces of one, no obvious source for it to come from. It had been enough to start Blaise screaming, though, and Dean scoops his son up, pulling him close and covering his eyes.

They’ve been hunting some type of were, probably a cat of some sort, all week-- well, Dean has. Sam and their son have been confined to the motel room except for meals, as they have been since Sam hit six months and started having Braxton Hicks contractions, scaring the absolute shit out of them both. Dean had promptly put Sam on a hunting ban.

Not that the were cares about what Dean wants.

They make a dash for the Impala, but the were had been there first. There’s blood all over the seats, and the ignition had been ripped out. This thing, werecat, whatever, was pissed. And obviously out for blood.

Sam’s first instinct is to hotwire a different car and get out of dodge as quickly as possible. Dean could come back for the Impala later, after Blaise was safe and in a different motel room at least a state away. He’s actually already popped the Impala’s trunk and starts reaching for a screwdriver to jamb into the ignition of the Honda a few parking spots down when a man starts approaching them. His hands are in the pockets of his hoodie, he has a cap on, and he’s walking easily, calmly, like there isn’t a car and a small family covered in blood twenty feet in front of him.

Didn’t take a genius to figure out who the were was at that point.

But they’re out in the open, right next to their bloody car, and shooting this thing right then and there without a damn good reason to any onlookers was sort of ill-advised.

The guy looks up at them from beneath his cap then, eyes gleaming an odd yellow-green color, and he smiles. It’s an ugly gesture, more a baring of teeth than anything. Slowly, very slowly, Sam reaches for the shotgun, wrapping his fingers around the barrel. He hadn’t noticed at first, his complete attention on the were, but Dean is already aiming at it, keeping the gun low, hidden between his body and Blaise’s.

The were tsks at them. “Can’t shoot me, hunter.”

Dean scowls, knowing he was right and unable to do anything about it. “What the fuck do you want?”

“I want to hunt.” He shrugs. “What else?”

“Well, we don’t exactly make great prey, so this probably won’t turn out well.” Blaise starts crying again, loud, heart-wrenching sobs that break Sam’s heart.

The were’s smile goes impossibly wider. “I think you’ll be excellent pray. You’ve got a young son and a heavily pregnant mate to take care of, after all.” He cocks his head to the side, an almost innocent, playful gesture. “So let the hunt begin.”

Sam is already aiming the shotgun when the were leaps for Dean and Blaise, and Dean’s gun goes off. Dean’s shot misses, apparently, because the were isn’t dead, poisoned with a silver bullet, but Sam manages to shoot its face full of rock salt. The thing howls in pain, clawing at his eyes. Sam only has a moment to notice that the burns in its face are already quickly healing before Dean grabs his hand and pulls him into the woods surrounding the motel.

The were is toying with them, Sam thinks. Every once in a while, he can see a flash, hear a rustle of leaves, and Dean takes aim at whatever it is, clutching their son to him like a lifeline. But the were never comes out. They use every trick they can think of to lose it, going back over their own tracks, stepping as lightly as they can to keep from disturbing the brush beneath their feet, but it isn’t doing any good, and Sam is exhausted already.

“Sam, come on!” Dean hisses under his breath.

Sam gasps for breath, hands pressing into his aching, swollen belly. Sweat pools at his temples and between his shoulder blades. There once was a time when he could outrun Dean. When he was eight months pregnant was not that time. “I’m trying.”

Dean shifts Blaise onto his hip, freeing one of his hands to grab for one of Sam’s again. “Just a little farther, and we’ll be through the forest, I swear.” His gaze snaps behind them, apparently seeing or hearing something that Sam hadn’t. He drops his voice even lower. “Come on.”

Sam hurts all over, and he’s certain he’s going to collapse soon. But Blaise is looking at him with wide, terrified eyes as he clings to Dean, and Sam nods, forcing his legs to propel him forward when Dean tugs on his hand.

He can hear something up ahead, something that sounds like static, and he isn’t sure if he isn’t paying attention to where he’s stepping or if his body just suddenly rebels, but his knees collapse, slamming painfully into the ground.

“Papa!” Blaise squeals, wriggling to get out of Dean’s grasp and get to Sam.

Dean kneels in front of him, tightening his hold on Blaise to keep him still.

Sam forces a smile, runs his hand over his son’s cheek where tears have made little tracks. “I’m okay, Blaise.”

“Hear that?” Dean asks quietly; Sam almost can’t even hear him past the pounding in his ears. “That noise, it’s a river up ahead. Should run straight into town.”

Sam’s heart lodges in his throat. “Dean--”

“Blaise,” Dean says, giving him an extra little squeeze before setting him down on the ground and giving him a serious look, “you be good for Papa, okay? That’s an order. I know it’s hard and that you’re scared, but you have to be very quiet, buddy.”

Blaise sniffles but nods.

Dean smiles and kisses his forehead. “Good boy.” He lets go of Blaise, and Sam scoops him up with a soft grunt. His back is killing him, and adding a thirty-five pound four year old to his hip isn’t helping any.

Dean’s eyes are bright in the moonlight streaming between the trees, too bright. He opens his mouth to say something to Sam, but a twig snaps, and Dean automatically aims at it. “Run, Sam. I’ll meet up with you as soon as I can.”

Sam wants to argue. He wants to pitch a fit that would rival anything Blaise has ever done and insist that Dean come with them. But Blaise is clinging to his shirt, and he’s tired, ridiculously tired, not to mention weaponless and therefore useless. So he nods.

And then he scrambles to his feet and runs.

He rubs Blaise’s back, trying to concentrate on the sound of the river flowing and the quickest way to get to it. His legs are killing him, his hips especially, now, and he grits his teeth, reminding himself that he’s been through worse and made it through. He can run until he keels over if it means Blaise will be safe in the end.

There’s no clearing leading up to the river. It’s just a thick row of trees, then suddenly water running through them, and Sam nearly falls right into it. He takes a moment to right himself, then raises Blaise a little higher on his body. “Hold on tight. We’re going to go swimming, okay?”

Blaise nods, wrapping his arms around Sam’s neck and clinging, burying his face in Sam’s shoulder. “It’s going to be cold,” he mutters, half to Blaise and half to himself before he takes a deep breath and jumps in.

It is cold. Freezing, even. But it only comes up to Sam’s chest, for which he’s grateful. He hadn’t known how well he’d be able to hold up in the water if he’d had to actually swim. Still, the coldness takes his breath away and makes his teeth chatter. Going through the water is for the best, though. It should make his and Blaise’s scent trails disappear, leaving Dean to face the were on his own.

Sam shivers, and this time it’s not because of the cold.

He wades through the water, letting the river push him downstream. The coldness is making his body numb up quickly, and he knows it’s a bad thing, even if he’s glad he doesn’t hurt so much anymore. The last thing he needs is for hypothermia to set in, but he still doesn’t see any light that indicates a town is anywhere close.

“Papa,” Blaise mumbles against his throat, shivering himself, “I’m cold.”

And maybe Sam can deal with being so cold his bones hurt, but he can’t deal with Blaise being that way. “Just a little farther, Blaise,” he promises, looking around for a clearing large enough to crawl onto. The trees eventually start to thin out, and Sam’s eyes light up when he sees the reason why. There’s a cave up ahead. He wades toward it, carefully moving diagonally to keep his footing.

When he gets to the land, he places Blaise up on the ground first, then tries to pull himself up, arms shaking. His body is too cold, too numb to hold his weight. Blaise grabs his arm after a moment, pulling until he’s red in the face, and Sam forces his arms to haul himself over the edge, rolling onto his back.

Blaise hovers over him, eyebrows furrowed in that way that Dean says makes him think of what Sam looks like when he’s been researching. “Are you okay, Papa?”

Sam takes a deep breath and nods. “Yeah, thanks to you, kiddo.”

Blaise breaks out into a toothy grin, and it’s all Dean. It makes Sam’s chest hurt. “You’re welcome.”

Sam smiles at him, pushing himself up and putting a hand to his stomach, smoothing his hand down his distended belly. It aches pretty badly, but he figures he’d be pretty pissed too if the person that had been carrying him around suddenly dropped himself in freezing water. He struggles to get back to his feet and takes Blaise’s hand. “Come on, Blaise.”

Blaise hesitates, putting his thumb to his mouth. “But Dad said to go to the town. It was an order.”

Sam is going to kill Dean and his stupid orders some day. It would be one thing if they were just a figure of speech, but Blaise takes them like Dean always had, like he’ll just die if his father is disappointed in him. He kneels down to Blaise’s eye level, wincing at the spike of pain it drives through his middle. “Dad told you to be quiet and to be good, and you have been. You followed orders perfectly.” He smiles, rubbing his son’s arms gently. “And besides, sometimes you have to improvise.”

Blaise nods, though he’s still sucking his thumb in earnest. He lets Sam guide him into the cave though, and that’s what counts right now.

Pain hits Sam again, and he leans his back against the wall of the cave, slowly sliding down into a seated position.

“How will Dad find us if we’re not in town?” Blaise asks, crawling into Sam’s lap.

Sam wraps his arms around Blaise, holding him as close as he can with his stomach in the way. “Dad’s a hunter, Blaise. He’ll find us.”

They’re both still shivering, and Sam takes off his jacket, wringing it out before he drapes it around Blaise and pulls him back into his arms.

“Dad’s gonna hunt us?” Blaise asks, sounding delighted.

Sam nods, squeezing his eyes shut to try and block out the pain. “Yeah, kiddo. Dad’s gonna hunt us.”

Blaise giggles, squirming happily in Sam’s arms. Sam winces when he bumps his belly. “Careful, Blaise. My tummy hurts.”

Blaise gasps. “Is the baby okay?”

Sam takes a deep breath as the pain hits him again. It’s starting to center around his hips and abdomen, and he’s beginning to wonder himself if the baby is okay. He’s not about to tell Blaise that though. “Yep. The baby is just fine. Just a little restless. Ready to meet the big bro.” He taps Blaise’s nose.

Blaise laughs and gently puts his arms around Sam’s stomach, resting his cheek on top. “I love you too, baby.”

Sam runs his hands through Blaise’s hair, short and soft like Dean’s. God, he’s so much like Dean. “The baby is going to be so lucky to have a big brother like you, Blaise.”

His hips ache, and he shifts uncomfortably. Another wave of pain hits him, a little lower in his stomach, a little harsher, and it makes him hiss in a breath. He feels like getting up and walking, like it’ll stop the pressure that’s quickly building in his back.

Fuck, he knows what this is.

He puts his arm behind him, pushing at his lower back because he remembers this, remembers Dean doing that for him last time and how it helped.

God, he wants Dean to be here right now. Or for Blaise to not be here right now, especially when he looks up at him with worried green eyes and says, “Papa?”

“I’m fine, kiddo. Just fine.” Blaise gives him a skeptical look. “Seriously, Blaise, I’m okay. How do you feel? Still cold?”

Blaise nods. “Only a little bit though. Can we make a fire? It can be like we’re camping!”

Sam huffs a laugh. “Sorry, Blaise, but we’ve got to lay low, just in case.” He knows that the likelihood of the were finding them is slim, but he doesn’t want to send up a flare to aid him along. Especially not now that he’s pretty sure he’s in labor.

His belly tightens again, and he grits his teeth.

“Papa, you don’t look too good.”

“I’m okay, kiddo. Hey, I’ve got an idea,” he smiles a little. “Why don’t you sing me and the baby a campfire song, huh? I know we don’t have a fire, but it can still be like we’re camping. Maybe when Dad gets back we can get him to take us to the store and get camping food.”

“Like hotdogs and s’mores?”

Sam nods. “Yeah, Blaise. Like hotdogs and s’mores. And then maybe we can go camping for real soon. How’s that sound?”

“Yeah!” Blaise bounces happily.

“Then that’s what we’ll do.” Sam rubs Blaise’s back and pushes down on his own. “Sing for me, kiddo.”

Blaise starts belting out Pour Some Sugar on Me, and Sam is going to kill Dean, he swears to fucking God. Just as soon as he has this baby. And then sleeps for maybe a year.

Still, hearing his four year old’s voice crack in the middle of singing you gotta squeeze a little, squeeze a little, tease a little more, easy operator come a-knockin' on my door, is kind of hilarious, even as miserable as Sam is starting to feel.

Another wave hits--contraction, he thinks, they’re contractions--another contraction hits, and Sam stifles his groan of pain with his hand. His hips are aching, and he really wants to walk around, but he doesn’t want to alarm Blaise anymore than he already has. He tries to subtly stretch out his legs instead, sliding his hips down.

A shadow looms over them suddenly, blocking the moonlight from entering the cave, and yellow-green eyes flash white.

Sam immediately snatches up Blaise and struggles to get to his feet, moaning low in his throat at the pain that shoots from his hips all the way up to the top of his spine.

“What a clever little family,” the werecat muses, its voice a rumbling in its chest, its face an odd mixture of human and feline features. “Really, this hunt has been completely amusing. Pity that it’ll be over soon.”

“Yeah, well, fuck you,” Sam shoots back, but his voice sounds weak even to his own ears.

“My dad is gonna waste you,” Blaise says resolutely, clinging to Sam. “He’s the best hunter in the world.”

The werecat smiles that same predatory smile from before. He crouches a little, hunching his shoulders into a pouncing position. “Is that so?”

A gunshot rings through the cave, echoing off the walls.

Sam breathes a sigh of relief when the werecat slumps to the ground to reveal Dean’s form behind it. Dean moves forward, kicking the were to make sure it’s dead before adding a smug, “Yeah, that’s so, bitch.”

“Dad!” Blaise practically launches out of Sam’s grasp and flings himself against Dean. “You came!”

Dean hoists him up, grinning. “Of course I did. Couldn’t let my little buddy get eaten by some stupid cat monster.”

“Dean,” Sam manages, shakily lowering himself back to the ground.

Dean frowns at his voice, lowering Blaise to the floor of the cave before dropping beside Sam. “You okay, Sammy?”

Sam nods, wincing at a new contraction and the warm wetness that’s quickly gathering along his thighs. “Yeah, I. I think my water just broke, though.”

Dean’s gaze drops to Sam’s stomach, blinking at it for a moment before sliding a hand beneath Sam’s shirt, against his belly. “You’re shitting me.”

“I wish I was.” He can think of about a million other places he’d rather have this baby than in a cave whose entrance was currently blocked by a dead werecat, without pain medication, with his four year old staring at him with the widest green eyes imaginable. “But I’m not. What are we going to do about..?” He lets his sentence trail off, glances over at Blaise to indicate who the ending of the sentence was about.

Dean purses his lips thoughtfully for a moment before looking at Blaise. “Hey, Blaise, you wanna do something for me?”

Blaise nods eagerly. Of course he wants to do something for his dad. He’s his freaking idol.

“I need you to be a big boy and go get some firewood. I don’t want you to go so far away that you can’t see the cave anymore, but we really need to make a fire for Papa, and I can’t go right now. And I need you to be very careful when you go by that stupid cat’s body, okay? Don’t get any blood on you. If you do, tell me right away, and we’ll take care of it.”

The little boy nods, face set in determination. “Yes, sir.”

Dean grins at him. “Thanks, buddy. You’re a lifesaver. Remember, don’t go too far.”

“Yes, sir!” Blaise pipes up again before dashing out of the cave on his mission.

Sam gives him a dark look. “Dean, he is four years old. You just sent a four year old into the woods by himself.”

Dean waves his hand dismissively. “He’s a good boy. He won’t go anywhere without being able to see the cave. And now we can have this baby without scarring the kid for life.” He reaches for Sam’s jeans, plucking the button opening and pulling the zipper down for him before tugging on them. “Hips up, Sam.”

Sam readjusts so that he’s slumping against the wall with mostly just his head and shoulders propped against it, and he lifts his hips.

Dean peels his jeans and boxers off with the ease of someone who’s done it routinely for more than half of their lives now. “There we go.”

Sam’s back arches as the next contraction hits him. It feels like someone keeps kicking him in the stomach, and he can’t catch his breath, gasps for air and groans. Sweat is starting to bead at his temples, and he grits his teeth.

“You’re doing a good job, Sammy,” Dean encourages softly. He pushes Sam’s bangs out of his face, then frowns, pressing his hand to Sam’s forehead. “Damn, you’re freezing.”

“That river was really cold,” Sam says, smiling a little. “And then Blaise said he was still chilly, so I gave him my jacket.”

Dean shrugs off his coat and drapes it over Sam. “You’re not allowed to be pregnant with my child and get sick on my watch, Sammy. You’re shivering, for Christ’s sake.”

Sam snuggles beneath the coat. It smells like old leather and Dean’s aftershave, and it’s warm from Dean’s body heat. It almost makes Sam feel a little better. “You’d have done the same thing. How’d you stay dry?”

“There’s a thinner part of the river a little bit farther up stream. The were jumped over it at one point, and I just followed.” He takes Sam’s hand as another contraction hits, squeezing gently. “You gotta breathe, Sam.”

“Dean, I’d really appreciate it if you stopped telling me what to fucking do right now,” Sam hisses between clenched teeth.

Dean arches a brow. “You were much nicer with Blaise.”

“I had an epidural and a hospital and doctors with Blaise.” Sam squeezes Dean’s hand for all it’s worth. Pressure keeps building in his hips, and he’s about to split in two, he knows it. “Dean, I want to push.”

“Yeah, okay,” Dean says, voice calm and sure. He withdraws his hand from Sam’s, repositioning himself between Sam’s legs. Dean pushes his legs up, helping Sam plant his feet on the floor. “Whenever you’re ready, Sammy.”

On the next contraction, Sam curls in on himself, holding his breath and pushing as hard as he can.

“Come on, Sam,” Dean encourages. “You can do this. You’ve done it before. Just like riding a bike.”

“It’s nothing like riding a bike,” Sam pants as the contraction ends. The next one comes before he’s ready, and he’s shaking, gritting his teeth. “Dean.”

“Push, Sammy.” Dean kisses the top of his knee. “Come on, just a little bit more.”

Sam whimpers, fisting Dean’s jacket as another one hits, and he’s tired, he’s so fucking tired. Too tired to be in this much pain, too tired to push this baby out. “I. Dean, I can’t.”

“Yeah, you can, Sam. You’re almost done. Just a little more.” He reaches up, running his hand reassuringly up Sam’s inner thigh. “You’ve got this, Sammy.”

Another contraction hits, and Sam scrambles after it, curling up and pushing.

And then he feels it. All of the pressure on his hips is gone in one final gush, and tiny, angry wails bounce off the cave walls. Dean’s knife flashes in the moonlight as he pulls it from his pocket, cutting the cord before tying it off, and he grins, face flushed. “We have a little girl.” He laughs. “Sammy, I don’t know shit about raising a girl.”

Sam laughs too, a little hysterical, and reaches for them both, dragging Dean up beside him. He takes the baby into his arms, pulling off his flannel shirt and wrapping it around her. She calms down pretty quickly once she’s tucked safely in his arms. “I think your job mostly consists of waving the shotgun at anyone that looks like they think they might be interested in her.”

Dean kisses his forehead and tucks the shirt just a little tighter around the baby. “I can do that.”

Sam tilts his head up, kissing Dean softly before smiling. “I think you’ll be really good at it, actually.”

“Papa?”

Sam lifts his gaze to see Blaise with his little arms full of sticks. He’s suddenly very grateful that Dean’s coat has slipped to cover his lap. “Hey, kiddo. The baby decided she couldn’t wait to meet you, so she came a little early.”

Blaise drops the sticks he’d been carrying and rushes over, climbing into Dean’s lap to hover over the bundle in Sam’s arms. The little girl’s face is still a little red, her dark hair curling wetly against her forehead. Blaise looks like he’s in the presence of Miss America. “My baby is here,” he whispers, almost reverent.

Dean laughs, running his hand through Blaise’s hair. “That’s right, buddy. She’s finally here.”

“What’s her name?”

“Don’t know yet.” Sam bites his lip and looks up at Dean. “What do you think?”

Blaise throws his arms in the air and proclaims, “Maddie!”

“Madison?” Dean asks. “I kinda like it, actually.”

Sam glances down at the baby in his arms, smiling softly. “Is your name Madison? Your big brother seems to like it a lot. Madison Marie, maybe?” He asks the last part tentatively, unsure how Dean will feel about giving the baby a name so close to Mary, but he wants to pay homage to their mother in some way. He can’t remember her, and having the baby partially named for her feels right, like having a piece of her back.

“Madison Marie Winchester,” Dean repeats, getting a feel for it. “Sounds good to me.”

A draft blows through the cave, and Sam shudders.

Dean wraps an arm around him, squeezing gently. “I’m gonna go start that fire that I was talking about earlier. Wouldn’t want Baby Madison to catch a cold.” He presses a kiss to Maddie’s tiny hand and gets up, placing Blaise on the ground. “You take care of Papa and Maddie, okay, Blaise?”

Blaise nods, watching his dad gather up the sticks he’d brought in earlier and start arranging them before returning his attention to Sam and the baby. “Can I hold her, Papa?”

Sam nods, gently placing her in his outstretched arms. “Hold the head up, okay? She can’t do that by herself yet, and she can get hurt if you don’t.”

Blaise holds her close, and Sam smiles softly, imagining that this is probably a pretty accurate depiction of what he and Dean had looked like together right after Sam was born. He also takes the opportunity to slowly wriggle back into his boxers, despite them being a little tacky still.

He picks Blaise up after he’s got his boxers back on and places both of his children in his lap, wrapping all three of them in Dean’s coat. He holds them close, and almost instantly feel his son’s body start to relax. He’s got to be exhausted. It’s ridiculously late for a four year old, and this day hasn’t exactly been an easy one.

Sam takes Maddie, cradling her in one arm and wrapping the other around Blaise, kissing the top of his head. “You’re such a good boy, Blaise. You were so good today.”

Blaise yawns, settling into his papa’s grasp and closing his eyes.

Sam watches as Dean takes a lighter to a bundle of sticks he’s holding like a torch and lights up the body of the werecat before setting it to the arranged pile in front of Sam. Once the fire is going, he returns to Sam’s side, wrapping an arm around him. “They out?”

Sam nods, resting his head against Dean’s shoulder. “Yeah, like lights. We need to get to that town tomorrow morning. Maddie is going to be starving.”

Dean nods. “I’ll head out as soon as it’s light outside. You just stay here with the kids and rest up.”

Sam hums his assent, feeling his eyes grow heavy. He’s tired and aching, has been since they started running, and Dean is warm against his side. “It’s been a long day.”

“Tell me about it. Damn cat ruined my car’s upholstery.” Sam makes a face at him, and Dean laughs quietly, kissing his temple. “The price of being a Winchester. Sleep, Sammy.”

Sam hums again and closes his eyes.