Chances
"Fuck, baby. That's it. Squeeze your pussy around my cock."
"Sam! Shit you're so big. You're so fucking big."
The cool cement wall scratches at your nipples. Sam has your face and chest pressed against it firmly. His finger tips dig into your waist and hold you steady. Without him pushing you into the wall, you're sure your knees would buckle, and you would collapse.
"Your pussy is so tight, baby girl. You're fucking killing me," Sam whispers as he nibbles on your shoulder. His thick cock pounds into you as he enunciates his words. You can only whimper in response.
His cock throbs as he gets closer to the edge. Sweat sheens over both your bodies and the smell of sex fills the room. You buck your hips against him and groan. "Sam," you breathe out in a ghostly wisp.
"I want you to cum with me, baby girl," he growls. A hand leaves your hip and snakes across your belly. He dips it low between your legs and his rough finger tips find your clit. You gasp into the wall as he grinds against your nub. "That feel good, Y/N?"
"Fuck yes," you whine. "Please don't stop, Sam. You're gonna make me cum."
"Cum for me, baby girl. Cum all over my thick dick."
"Sam!," you scream out as the walls of your pussy clench. Your knees begin to shake uncontrollably and Sam thrusts into you hard and pins you against the wall in order to keep you both standing. Goosebumps cover your skin and you struggle to breathe.
You yelp as Sam plunges into you and he bites at your neck. His groan echoes and he holds you tight as he cums. Both of you are panting with exertion. He nuzzles his head between your shoulder blades and peppers the back of your neck with kisses before he pulls out of you.
He shuffles behind you as you continue to brace yourself against the wall and let its cool surface chill your flushed body. Your heart skips a beat when you hear Sam mutter, "Oh shit."
"What?," you ask as you turn around to face him. But as you move, you know what's wrong. You feel his cum leak from inside you and drip down your thigh. "Fuck."
Sam removes the condom from his deflating member and you both see a large split at the tip of it. "Fuck, Y/N," Sam splutters, "I'm so sorry."
Turning white as a ghost, you brush past him and dash down the halls of the bunker and into the bathroom, not caring if Dean sees you naked. You relieve yourself before hoping into the shower and attempt to cleanse between your legs.
Cursing softly under your breath, you fight back tears. Quiet footsteps enter the bathroom and hesitate outside the shower stall.
"Y/N?," Sam calls out nervously as he pulls back the shower curtain. "Hey, it's ok."
He steps under the hot water and embraces you as you stifle out a sob. Holding you as you shudder, he kisses your wet forehead.
"I'm sorry, Sam."
"Hey," he grips your chin so you're looking into his deep hazel eyes, "What are you apologizing for?"
"We should be more careful. I should be on the pill. We shouldn't..."
Sam interrupts you by hushing your spiraling mind, "The pill makes you sick, Y/N. We took all the necessary precautions, but sometimes these things just happen. We'll just go pick up some Plan-B."
You rest your forehead against his chest and calm your breathing. "It's Saturday at 5pm, Sam. The pharmacy won't be open until Monday morning."
His jaw clicks against your head as he contemplates this. "We'll just have to wait for Monday then. It'll be fine. What are the actual chances, anyway?"
A deep breath leaves your lungs as you exhale, "Yea. What are the chances?"
You curse yourself and your own stupidity. Sitting on the edge of a tub in a grimy motel bathroom, you hold the little pee stick in your hands.
Positive
Guess the Plan-B didn't work. As you try to keep the panic from rising in your chest, you wonder what the actual chances are. Sam could do the math if you asked him too.
Sam and Dean are on a supply run and you elected to stay behind, claiming that you're not feeling well. The hunt had been a relatively easy salt and burn and the three of you are getting ready to skip town and head back home.
It has been four weeks since your little incident. Four torturous weeks of worry. And now you're pregnant. Your hands cradle your face as tears run down your cheeks.
In the last few weeks, Sam had done everything to quiet your mind. He reminded you that you'd been together for five years, that you loved each other, and that you'd both figure it out. He kept saying the likelihood of you being pregnant was low anyhow. Apparently not.
His words never stopped your fears. You both had rough upbringings and led hard lives. Hunting wasn't exactly conducive with a white picket fence. Hell, Sam turns up dead every few years! How could you be parents when you live this kind of life?
The sound of the motel room door opening had you quickly wiping away your tears. "Y/N?," Sam called, "Are you here?"
"Just a minute," you yell through the bathroom door. You wrap the pregnancy test in toilet paper and then shove it to the bottom of the waste basket. Splashing water onto your face, you try and brighten up your eyes. The last thing you want if for Sam to know you've been crying.
You take a deep breath before walking out into the motel room.
Dean is packing his stuff into a duffle bag while Sam sits on the end one of the beds. He'd already neatly packed his stuff away this morning. "Hey, I got you your favourite while we were at the store," Dean mentions without looking at you, "Your Cheetos are in the car. So don't you dare put your hands on my beef jerky. Those are my car snacks and I'm freaking sick of you stealing them."
"Thanks, Dean," you smile weakly at him.
While Dean has yet to look directly at you, Sam hasn't stopped looking at you since you entered the room. "How you feeling, babe?"
You attempt to give him your brightest smile, "Better now. Turns out it was just period cramps."
"Gross!," Dean scowls at you as he picks up his bag and goes to put it in the Impala. "We're leaving in five minutes people!"
Sam stands and places his hands on your hips. His beautiful eyes sparkle at you, but they also hide a hint of sadness. "See, sweetie?," he hums as he wraps his arms around you, "There was nothing to be worried about."
You nod numbly into his chest and fight back tears.
Back at the bunker, you silently start making plans in your head. Dean's mood remains unchanged and you try to act like everything is normal. Sam notices your melancholic mood though. You blame it on "that-time-of-the-month" and Sam tries to give you your space. He wonders if there's more to it, but he doesn't want to push you.
After a week at home, a case pops up in Maine. The boys start packing, but you beg to stay home. Even Dean flags this as odd behaviour as you never want to miss out on a case.
"Please. I'm just feeling a little run down," you plead, "I think a few days on my own would do me some good. I'll watch chick flicks and do all the girly stuff I never get to do."
Sam arches an eyebrow at you. "Are you sure, Y/N?"
"Yes. I'm completely sure."
Pressing his lips together, Sam inspects your face. You try to put on a warm smile. "Y/N, you know if there's anything wrong..."
"I'm fine, Sam. We're fine. I just want a little break. That's all."
This doesn't seem to ease Sam's mind, but he trusts you. "Ok, Y/N," he concedes as he pulls you in for a tight hug. "But keep the doors locked and only go out if you absolutely have too."
Normally, you'd make a big show about how you're not a child and that you can take care of yourself. This time you just nod into his chest.
Sam pulls away and glances at you with concerned eyes. He's about to say something when he hears the Impala's horn go off. "Let's go, Sammy," Dean yells, "We're wasting daylight!"
Squeezing your hand, Sam steps away from you. "I'll see you in a few days."
"Ok, Sam."
The door bangs behind him and you hold your breath as you hear Dean rev the engine. You wait until the sound of crunching gravel and the roar of the car dissipates. Only once it's melted into silence, do you let yourself fall to your knees and sob.
It only took you an hour and a half to pack all your things. Five years of living here and you could still pack all of your stuff into four boxes in the back of your truck. You try not to think about what that says about you.
You're about to walk out the door when a thought pops into your mind. You should at least leave a note, so they don't think you were taken by demons. Entering the kitchen, you take the sticky note pad off the fridge. Why do they even have this? Nobody ever remembers to write down a grocery list.
Standing at the counter, you stare at the blank note. What could you possibly say? You quickly scribble something down and slam the pen on the counter. Slipping your cell phone from your pocket, you place it next to the note. No need to tempt yourself. Dashing for the door, you don't dare to look back. It'll just make you cry again.
The truck door slams as you jump into the driver's seat. You've scarcely driven this thing in the last couple of years. Dean always insists on driving the Impala himself and you rarely go off on your own anymore. Your fingers grip the steering wheel. This'll take some getting use too.
"Sorry?!"
"That's all it says," Dean whispers.
"Sorry? All it says is fucking sorry?"
Dean holds the note in his hand. Sam is standing in the middle of the kitchen, eyes wide. His hands run through his long hair and rest on the back of his head. He thinks he might be sick.
Once they got home, it only took a moment to realize you weren't there. And then a few more moments to realize your stuff was missing too. He doesn't know what makes him more upset: thinking a monster got you or the thought that you left of your own freewill.
"CAS!"
The angel immediately appears at Sam's cry. He looks bewildered and prepared to fight. "What is it? What's wrong?"
"Where is she?," Sam bellows. His echoes ricochets off the bunker walls.
"Where is whom, Sam?," Castiel questions while straightening his posture. "Are you not in trouble?"
"Y/N, Cas! Where's Y/N?"
Castiel swivels his attention to Dean, "Is this why you called me? Is Y/N in trouble?"
Sam is about ready to throttle the angel in order to get answers, but Dean interjects, "Y/N is missing Cas. Sam's just a little panicky and we're trying to find her."
Nodding solemnly, Cas ponders this information. "Well you know I can't localize her. She has an angel-ward carved on her ribs just as you two do."
Spitting out a breath he'd been holding, Sam barely conceals a sob. His eyes are struck with grief and his mind is in overdrive. He presses a palm into the counter and rubs the back of his neck. Where would she go? Why would she leave?
Castiel softens when he sees the pain in Sam's face. "How long has she been missing? Did something take her?," Cas questions rationally.
"We've been gone four days," Sam chokes, "She could be anywhere by now."
Dean answers the second question. "We got home and all her stuff was gone. And she left this-" The note passes from Dean's fingers to Castiel's. His brow furrows as he reads the single word.
"Oh," Castiel mutters as he realizes the situation.
Pushing off the counter, Sam rips open the fridge and cracks open a beer. He chugs the entire thing before opening another one. Gaping, he starts to say something, but finds himself at a loss for words.
"Listen," Castiel thinks aloud, "I may not be able to locate her, but I can still dream walk."
Sam's eyes go wide at this news. "Yes! Perfect! Do that and find out where she is."
"We'll have to wait for nightfall, Sam. One does not dream in the middle of the afternoon." Sam's face fell, but a glimmer of hope remained.
"There we go," Dean exclaimed. "Cas will try dream walking tonight and until then, we'll check around town and see if we can find her or see if anybody knows anything."
Nodding his head, Sam takes a swig of his beer before heading for the door.
Hours later and then sun is long gone. Searching the town had been a bust. They didn't find her anywhere and nobody had seen her leave town.
Back at the bunker, Sam paces restlessly as Cas sits in one of the library armchairs, his eyes closed in concentration.
Dean nurses a beer in the corner and watches Sam. He's given up trying to get him to calm down.
"I knew we shouldn't have left without her," Sam utters for the millionth time. "I knew something was wrong. I shouldn't have left her."
Instead of trying to respond, Dean simply opens another beer and passes it to Sam. Sam snatches it and sits next to his brother, his foot tapping anxiously. He glares at the angel as if it would make him work faster.
Finally, Castiel opens his ice blue eyes. They're filled with tiredness and grief. Sam pounces on him. "Well? Did you find her?"
Castiel softly shakes his head, "No. She wouldn't tell me where she is."
Roaring in frustration, Sam leaps out of his chair and goes to storm out of the room.
"Sam!," Castiel calls after him.
"What?!"
"Did you know she is pregnant?"
The warm salty air brushes your face and floats through your hair. Crashing waves fill your ears and the soft sand sifts between your toes. You raise your hand to shield your eyes as the sun sets before you. You had no plan when you left the bunker, but winding up on a beach in California wasn't half bad.
If only it weren't for... you glance down at your sweater-covered belly and rest your hands on it. There is no distinct baby bump yet, but your pants are quickly tightening.
Wrapping your arms around yourself, you wonder what you're going to do. It's all you've been able to think of. You're shacked up in a seedy little motel by the beach, but you can't stay there forever. The nice waitress at the diner offered you a job. Maybe you should take her up on it? Get a little apartment here. You've always loved the beach.
A sigh escapes your lips as you throw a pebble into the surf. What about the baby? What are you going to do?
The waves crash against the shore and run up the beach to tickle your toes. You don't move, not caring if you get wet. Looking into the sunset, you wish you could stay here forever.
You left the bunker knowing that you couldn't raise a child as a hunter. Hell, you're not even sure if you can keep it. Maybe adoption would be best. You'd be a shit mom.
Burying your head into your knees, you exhale deeply. You have no more tears left to cry and your heart aches for Sam, but you know this is what's best. You can't put him through this and you can't bear him to see you like this. This baby would make his hard life even more difficult.
The sun disappears behind the horizon and your toes begin to go numb. You stand and shake the sand off your jeans and pick up your shoes. Walking back to the hotel, you try not to make eye contact with anyone. As much as you'd love to stay here, you know you have to keep moving.
Castiel visiting your dreams has become a nightly occurrence. He begs you to tell him where you are and describes how frantic Sam is. It breaks your heart in two, but you cannot go back. Sam cannot know about the pregnancy. You've gotten good at waking yourself up from your dreams and you've started sleeping less and less to avoid Cas.
Entering your motel room, you collapse on the bed. You stare up at the yellowed popcorn ceiling and try to push your thoughts away, when somebody raps at your door.
Dean glances at his brother and sees the dark circles under his eyes. Sam's barely slept over the last two weeks. He wouldn't stop blaming himself for Y/N's pregnancy and her leaving. Sighing, Dean picks up his gas station coffee and follows Sam back to the Impala.
For two weeks they'd been searching. They went to every spot that Y/N ever liked, they went to her hometown, and Sam had even considered going to Canada. But they hadn't found her, and nobody had heard anything from her. Dean knew it was futile to drive aimlessly around the States, but he wasn't going to convince Sam. Not any time soon at least.
Castiel has been trying to get through to Y/N at Sam's insistence, but nothing was coming of that either. Dean huffs as he starts the car and pulls back down the road. Sam's phone rings just as they pull onto the highway and he races to answer the call.
"Sam?," Bobby's voice rings out.
"Bobby, did you find her?"
"She's been spotted down in southern California in a seedy beach motel. I'll text you the address, but you'll have to drive fast to catch her."
"Thanks, Bobby," Sam ends the call and glances at his brother. Dean has heard everything.
"On it," he barks as he revs the engine.
When you open the door, Sam's deep eyes are peering down at you. Your breath catches and your emotions get stuck in your throat. He looks like he hasn't slept or shaved in weeks. Before you can slam the door closed, Sam pushes through and let's himself in. You close the door and lean against it. Sam paces and glances around the room. You hold your breath.
Eventually, Sam stops and finally looks you in the face. Your heart breaks at his despondency. "How could you do this?," Sam whispers.
"Sam, I—"
"How could you leave me when you're carrying my child?," he yells. He pinched his lips together as he tries to regain control over his emotions.
All the colour drains from your face and you think you might be sick. Actually, you're sure you're going to be sick. You push past Sam and race for that bathroom, not evening bothering to close the door. You wretch into the toilet and heave up the little bit of food you've had today. The cold tiles bite your knees and you try not to cry. You feel Sam move near you.
He perches on the edge of the tub and smooths back your hair as you hurl. Concern and regret flood his face. When you've finished retching, he hands you a tissue to wipe your mouth. Sitting on the floor, you lean against the wall and face him.
"How did you find out?," you ask softly.
"Castiel. When he visited your dreams."
"But I didn't tell—"
"He still knew," Sam interjects.
You hang your head and wipe away the tears forming in the corners of your eyes.
"Why did you leave?," Sam whispers while fighting back his own tears.
"I was scared," you answer hesitantly, "I hate that I put you in that position. I was scared how you were going to react and I didn't want to put that burden on you."
"Did you ever think that that wasn't your choice to make?," he spits out as his rage bubbles over, "You didn't get this way alone, Y/N. That baby is mine too."
You gulp down a breath and stare at the floor. The ugly orange tiles make you feel sick again and you wish that the floor would just swallow you up. "I can't be a mother, Sam. I'm going to be a terrible mother."
Sam's eyes flicker as you retch out a sob. He slides onto the floor next to you and pulls you into his arms. Your body sighs as it finally feels Sam's touch after so long, but your heart is still heavy with guilt and regret.
"We don't have to keep it. You don't have to go through with it," Sam mumbles into your hair.
You withdraw at him and shock shades your face. You never thought he would consider that. "Do you really not want it that much?," your eyes well with tears.
"Of course I fucking want it, Y/N," Sam exclaims. "I've always wanted this with you. Shit, I was sad when you told me you got your period. I was kinda hoping...," Sam trails off and then mutters, "I just never want to force you to do something. I couldn't live with myself if I did that. So if you want—"
"I don't want that," you blurt out at him. Now it's his turn to look surprised. "I don't want that."
He nods his head, "So where do we go from here?"
You both lean your head against the wall. A sad smile slips onto your lips as he interlocks his fingers with yours. "God, I wish I could have a drink life now."
Sam laughs and the tension in the air instantly melts. His warm, honied laugh rolls over you. You've missed him so much.
"Do you really want it?," you whisper when his laughter dies down.
He gazes at you and places a kiss onto your forehead, "I've always wanted this, Y/N. I want to see you round with my child. I want us to hold and play with our kids together. I want us to grow old together."
You squeeze his hand and it feels like your heart might burst. "But what about hunting and—"
"We'll figure all that out. We have a stable home and people who love us. Most importantly we love each other." He grasps your chin and turns your face towards him, placing a soft kiss on your lips. The worry is still painted on your face and he sighs. "We're not our parents, Y/N. I'm not my father and you're certainly not your father. This kid won't have the type of childhood we had."
You can't help the fear still bubbling in your chest, "But how do you know?"
He reaches down and places his large palm on your belly and you feel your heart swell. "Because we have each other. And that's enough."