How did this all happen? Dean wonders, lying next to his brother in the bed they share, their newborn daughter curled up comfortably in his arms.
He is past being shocked, now he's just in wonder, staring at the tiny features of the sleeping infant he's holding. She stirs from her sleep, whimpering before her bright blue eyes open.
"Hey beautiful, don't be scared. Daddy's got you." Dean strokes her smooth little face with his thumb and she relaxes, quickly falling back to her deep sleep.
"Everything okay?" Sam mumbles, still half-asleep but in Mother Hen Mode, and every noise their daughter makes wakes him and he has to check on her before going back to sleep.
"It's all good Sammy, I got it under control. Go back to sleep sweetheart, you need your rest." Dean smiles at Sam, who sleepily smiles back at him. He closes his eyes and settles back into the pillow before whispering "I love it when you call me sweetheart."
Ten months earlier, the boys were stuck in a small town in Missouri working a job with no leads. For the past month local natural healers and the like were being offed in an unpleasant manner.
After having no leads for an entire week, they grew desperate and traveled to a hilly forest in the outskirts in town dubbed Witches' Row. After several interviews, the strange inhabitants proved unhelpful, until they showed up on Hadley Cook's doorstep.
Dean was mumbling something along the lines of dude, forget it, let's call it a day. Sam shrugged and rang the doorbell, expecting another gruff, un-talkative person to answer the door.
"One moment please!" A cheery, singsong-y voice called from inside. A short, stout woman in her mid thirties dressed in a gray sweater and black lace skirt answered the door.
Her pleasant, sunburnt face lit up and she greeted them with a wide smile. "Good afternoon, gentleman. What can I do for you?" Sam explained their business, and she nodded in agreement, furrowing her brow.
She invited them inside and they agreed.
"Make yourselves at home, boys. I'll brew us some tea," she said, walking towards the small kitchen. Dean and Sam found the way to the cramped living room and plopped onto a faded blue couch.
Every corner in the odd room was filled with a glass tank of some creature.
The largest cage held four tree frogs, all curled up under a heat lamp. The other cages held snakes, which Dean frowned at. Hadley bustled in carrying an antique silver teapot and three mismatched cups.
After pouring them some tea, they exchanged conversation. She explained they had arrived just in time; for the past week she had been receiving threatening phone calls from a man she didn't know.
She said he had called her a harlot and a Satanist, and said he was going to kill her like he had the rest of the evil witches in town. Hadley had her suspicions of who the mystery caller was, and pointed the boys to a reclusive old man who owned a truck rental store in town.
It turned out she was right, the man became angry at witchcraft and anyone who practiced it after his wife was murdered by what he was sure was a curse.
After they finished the job, they went back to Hadley's house the same day to tell her the good news. She invited them inside once more, a coy smile on her lips.
After they were settled she began to talk enthusiastically. "I don't even know where to start to thank you boys," the witch started. "Thanks aren't necessary, ma'am, we're just glad you're safe," Sam started.
Hadley lifted up a finger to silence him, and shook her head. "Oh no, Sam. I have just the right idea to thank you two," she replied, getting up from her seat and walking towards the boys.
They looked at each other in confusion, as she used Sam's real name, not the fake one that he gave her. "How do you"- he started but she put a finger to her lips to silence him.
"Trust me. I have a gift for you. Now stand up, you two," she commanded, and they obeyed, confused. She first started with Dean, walking towards him and running her hand down his face, staring into his eyes.
She muttered and shook her head, then turning to Sam. She raised her arms, one hand cupped behind his neck, the other on his right cheek. She closed her eyes, mumbling indistinguishable words.
She kissed him gently on the mouth, her lips closing around his, and in his ear whispered "your wish is granted, Samuel Winchester." Sam winced and pulled back.
"Your gift will become evident in the next few weeks, boys. Don't thank me," she said, grinning that odd grin. The brothers didn't question it, but simply nodded and bolted out of the place.
As soon as they were walking back to the Impala Dean muttered "what the Hell was that about?!" Sam shook his head, and nervously said that she was going to grant a wish. Dean raised an eyebrow and looked Sam in the eye.
"Should I be nervous, Sammy?" "No Dean, it's all right, I promise." He took his big brother's hand in his, squeezing it once and silently climbed into the car.
They went back to the hotel and packed up, deciding to get as far away from the bizarre happening at once. Dean soon spotted a job far away, and they carried on with their life as normal. Well, for about six days or so.
Within the next week, Sam started having weird tastes for food. One morning he woke up with a fierce craving for Kraft macaroni and cheese, which he decided to shake off.
They started becoming more frequent and bizarre, like having the urge to devour half a dozen hard boiled eggs at midnight then puking them up all but ten minutes later.
Simultaneously, Sam was waking up every morning with a miserable headache and stomach flu like symptoms. After a solid week of Sam heaving up what little food was in his stomach while Dean stroked the back of his neck, Dean was getting worried.
Sam brushed his teeth, avoiding the back of his mouth, because he discovered that would start the gag reflex all over again. Dean's worry was evident on his face as he watched his brother/lover follow the routine he had become used to, rinsing his mouth free of the taste of bile. Sam looked up and wiped his face with a towel, acknowledging Dean's concerned expression in the mirror.
"Dean…" Sam started, trying to find the right words. Dean slipped his arm around Sam's waist. "What is it, Sammy?" He asked, walking towards the bed and sat down.
"I think I know why I'm like this." Sam said, eyes turning down, face a map of guilt.
"The witch, Hadley, you know, that odd woman we helped? Well, she said she was going to grant my wish and… this is it." Dean looked even more confused and Sam put his hands up.
"Just bear with me here, okay?! I, I just… ugh!" Sam exclaimed, frustrated because he couldn't find the right words.
"Sam what are you talking about? Why would you want this, why would you want to be so sick? If that bitch cursed you then"- Sam stopped him instantly by blurting out the thought that was darting between both their minds.
"I'm pregnant."
