Good morning! Again, I apologize profusely for not replying to everyone's lovely reviews of late. Hopefully life will begin to get back to normal. This weekend was buys with endless cleaning and last minute packing. Been living on an air mattress and folding chair. :) But I have my computer so that's really the most important thing, right? lol!
I owe my wonderful beta, L.H. the Second a LOT for her help on this one. For some reason, it proved very challenging, but I think it turned out pretty well. :)
Joy
Setting: Pre-series
"Alright. That's it."
The Impala swerved and gravel spewed out behind as Dean slammed on the brakes. The abrupt movement startled Sam out of his moody and irritated silence.
"Dean, what the hell?"
Dean put the car in park, leaned past Sam, and opened the door.
"Get out."
"What?" Sam's eyes widened and a touch of fear began to creep in and start squishing the irritation.
"You heard me."
Sam stared at his brother in disbelief. Ignoring him, Dean was digging around in the back seat. And then Sam was hit in the chest with his own backpack.
"Get out of my car."
Fear and irritation continued to teeter totter for dominance as Sam clutched his backpack and asked again, "What?"
"Get out. You've been pissed at me for the last eighteen hours and I've had more than I can take." Dean wasn't looking at him. His hands were clenching the steering wheel. "I'm sick of it and I'm sick of you. Out of the car."
Irritation won a round and Sam spat, "So what? You're just gonna leave me here on the side of the road in the middle of—"
"Nowhere," Dean interrupted, shoving him in the shoulder. "Yes, I am. Feel free to take your attitude and pick a direction. If you ever stop being such a bitch you can call me and maybe I'll pick you up."
"Fine!" Sam hauled himself out of the car. Leaning back in, he shouted, "I hate you!"
Dean turned and he looked angry but also hurt. He put the car into drive and said, "Yeah, well right now I kind of hate you too, Sammy."
Sam slammed the door as hard as he could then cringed back as Dean gunned the engine. The Impala tore away, fishtailing as it swerved back onto the road. He watched it until it was a tiny black dot on the horizon.
The Impala finally disappeared and Sam slung his backpack over his shoulder. He stared around at his surroundings.
Middle of nowhere, just like Dean had said.
He hadn't even been paying enough attention to know what state they were in now. Glaring in the direction the Impala had gone, Sam spent the next ten minutes shouting and screaming and cursing and kicking rocks.
After ten minutes, he was out of breath and out of anger and sitting in the gravel.
And then the first drops of rain began falling. He cursed some more, pushed himself to his feet and started walking.
In the opposite direction from where they'd been going.
There was no way he was going to follow his brother. He didn't have a map or a clue where he was but, judging by the distant rumble of thunder and the rapidly darkening sky ahead of him, he was going to get wet if he stayed where he was.
Hiking a little faster toward the storm and ignoring the lure of sunshine behind him, the teeter totter began to list toward fear.
He really left me.
Well it's my own fault!
But he's such a jerk and I'm sick and tired of never getting a say in anything.
Dean didn't get a say in this, either. He liked that Julie or whatever her name was. He said he was glad we were staying put for a few weeks…
And then Dad had called and, quicker than lightning, all of their plans had become inconsequential. Dad needed them - well, he needs Dean, anyway, Sam amended bitterly - and off they went.
Dean likes hunting though, he's fine with it.
Is he? Is he really?
Yeah. Cuz he can be all macho and shoot things and prove that he's better than me at everything.
Sam swiped a hand angrily across his face. It was just the rain, not tears. At least that's what he told himself as he stumbled along the rutted and uneven country road.
Who's the one who helps you with your homework? Who's the one who helps you with target practice and sparring and never minds how many questions you ask or how many times it takes until you get it right?
Dean.
Yeah.
He kicked a rock into the trees on the right side of the road.
Dean didn't want to leave any more than I did and I've been a brat the entire time. He even delayed long enough for me to return the library books. Dad would have made me leave them in the motel.
'More important things to do right now, son.'
But Dean didn't say that and he took me to the library and he bought me a chili dog and a huge Slurpee and let me pick the music and all I did was bitch at him and complain and take my anger out on him.
The rain was falling harder now and so were the tears.
All he said he wanted was to be free, but right now he was free and all he wanted was his brother.
It took a good ten miles for Dean's anger to go down a few notches.
It took another six miles before he began to consider the fact he had just kicked his fourteen year old brother out on the side of a deserted country backroad. Kicked him out and left him standing there and driven sixteen miles before he even began to feel bad about it.
Dean slowed the car and looked in the rearview mirror as if he would actually be able to see Sam running up the road behind him.
He probably went in the opposite direction, the little snot.
As soon as the thought went through his mind, guilt swept over him.
You just left your brother on the side of a deserted country backroad.
"What the hell?"
He smacked the steering wheel and pulled the car to the side of the road and stared at the road behind him. The sunshine ahead was in direct contrast to the dark, angry clouds billowing behind him. The angry clouds pouring rain down on his little brother who he had left stranded on the side of the road with nothing but his backpack.
"If he hadn't been acting like a spoiled brat, I wouldn't have left him," Dean said aloud, attempting to justify his actions to himself and failing.
Very seldom did he allow his temper to get the best of him.
"Unlike two other people I know," he mumbled, shaking his head.
He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. The headache had started the moment his phone had rung and Dad had announced they needed to pack up and leave town. His head had been pounding ever since.
Sam had been disappointed and then furious.
Well, he wasn't the only one who was missing out. Dean had liked that stupid town, too. He'd had a job he liked. He'd had a girl he liked and who liked him. He'd had the Impala and he'd had - for two whole months - a happy, pleasant, easy to deal with little brother.
Dad's call last night had heralded the unwelcome end to the bliss.
Sam had turned into a literal monster. He'd snarled at everything Dean said, balked at everything he'd been told to do, and all in all had driven Dean up the wall and back down again.
Several times.
It wasn't that Dean didn't understand because he absolutely did. Which was why he had bent over backwards trying to make things even slightly better for his unhappy brother. Sam had rejected his efforts and basically done everything in his power to ensure the process was as miserable as humanly possible for both of them.
The tension had increased to the point where they'd spent a solid ten minutes doing nothing but shouting at each other viciously, the meanness getting worse every second until they'd sputtered into an angry silence.
Sighing, Dean stared at the road ahead. He should go back. Even so, the frustration and anger were still burning and he wasn't quite ready to let go of his anger and forgive Sam yet.
So he settled sideways in his seat, put his feet up, crossed his arms over his chest, stared at the tree line and cultivated his anger.
He'd give his brother another twenty minutes to call and beg for a ride. If he hadn't heard from Sam by then, he'd go be a nice big brother and pick him up before he got hit by the first rain drop.
For two miles, Sam alternated between anger and general misery.
The rain was getting worse with every step. Not that he could get any more soaked than he already was. He'd pulled his hood up for all the good it was doing him. His relatively new Converse were wet and muddy. His backpack was heavy and he didn't know why Dean had even given it to him unless...
"He's never coming back," he muttered, even though he knew better.
Mostly.
Scrubbing at his face, he stumbled over his own feet and almost fell, catching himself right before he face planted in the gravel.
Besides, so what if he doesn't come back? His mind refused to shut down. Or shut up. I'm fourteen. I can take care of myself. I don't need him.
A crack of thunder split the silence of the deserted road and he jumped, heart pounding wildly. Cringing, he looked up at the sky. The clouds were black and rolling and he hadn't even noticed how cold it had become. He zipped up his hoodie and wished Dean had tossed him out with his backpack and his coat.
"This is your fault."
It was. Who else could he blame? Dean hadn't done anything. All he'd done was answer the phone. Dad had been the one to, yet again, throw their barely-settled world into a state of disarray. Dean had merely been doing what he'd been told to do. He was just following orders.
Like always.
Sam kicked a stone into the ditch.
"You always do what Dad says," he said aloud - as if the trees or deserted road cared.
Yeah, Dean did always do what Dad said, but what choice did he have?
"This is so unfair."
His entire life was unfair. He couldn't think of a single bit of his life that was or ever had been fair.
"I hate my life."
He was trying to hold onto his anger, but other emotions were creeping up on him. Emotions like disappointment: why couldn't Dad have let us stay just a little longer?
Emotions like sadness: things were really great until Dad called.
Longing: I just want to be normal. For Dean to get to be normal.
Regret: I wish I hadn't been such a jerk. Dean already felt bad. I just made everything worse.
Thunder clapped above his head again and fear crept back onto the list.
Where am I even going to go? What if Dean doesn't come back for me? What if he's finally sick of me? How could he not hate me? He wants to hunt. He likes being with Dad. If I wasn't around, Dean wouldn't have to babysit me and he could go be a hero. I just hold him back.
"No wonder he left you on the side of the road," Sam said aloud, his heart weighing him down even more than his backpack.
He stared down at the shoulder of the road, watching tiny rivulets running through the gravel. Forcing himself to keep moving, he shoved his hands in his pockets. Maybe, if he was lucky, a car would come along and put him out of his misery.
He'd walked for a good twenty minutes before a car did come along. He kept his head down, disinterested in the vehicle and still sort of hoping whoever was driving wasn't paying any attention.
All your problems would be solved.
Engrossed in his troubling thoughts, he didn't look up as the car drove by. Wouldn't have even looked over his shoulder if it hadn't been for the sound of squealing tires. He did look over his shoulder in time to watch the car skid across the wet road. His breath caught in his throat as the little blue car went into the ditch. The driver had managed to slow the car enough that the crash wasn't as bad as it could have been.
For a long moment, he stood there staring at the rear bumper of the car.
And then he ran toward the car.
By the time he reached the car, the driver's side door was open and that had to be a good sign, right? He really hoped so, anyway. Sure, he knew CPR and first aid, but he wasn't a trauma surgeon and the sudden thought that maybe the person was fatally bleeding out from a severed artery or had lost a limb flashed through his mind and almost rooted him to the spot. Tripping over his own feet and his fear, Sam kept going.
A scream split the stormy night and terror filled him.
They're dying! They probably got stabbed through the chest by the steering wheel!
The ridiculousness of the thought did little to calm his racing heart.
He reached the edge of the ditch and locked eyes with a pretty blonde woman in a pale pink blouse and floral skirt who was sitting half in and half out of the car. Her eyes widened when she saw him and he thought she looked kind of happy, but then she let loose another feral scream that had goosebumps lifting on his arms. He froze, staring at her. She wasn't bleeding or cut up or missing any limbs.
What she was, though, was extremely pregnant.
"Help me!" the woman screamed, holding a hand out at him. "The baby is coming!"
Sam's jaw dropped. He took a step back and asked, "What do you want me to do about it?"
She screamed again and Sam wanted to run screaming in the direction his brother had gone and spend the next ten years of his life apologizing. Lightning flashed and illuminated the fear on the woman's face. Sam tried to swallow his own fear and took a step forward.
"Uh...did you call...for help?" he asked, stumbling over his words and his feet.
"Forgot my phone," she said, panting. One hand was gripping the door handle, knuckles turning white, while her other hand was pressed against her stomach. "Do you...do you have a phone?"
Sam nodded, pulling his backpack off. "I'll call an ambulance."
Instead of gratitude, he was rewarded with another ear-splitting scream. He dropped to his knees, hands shaking as he pawed through his backpack for his phone. Three times he went through his backpack.
Three times.
Three times.
No phone.
Sam looked up, heart hitting the muddy ground he was kneeling in. The woman was huffing and puffing and and no monster had ever scared him more than this was scaring him. If a baby came out right now, it was doomed because he was probably going to pass out. The chill from the rain was a memory. Heat was rushing over him and his ears were filled with a buzzing noise that was somehow louder than the thunder.
"Kid! Hey, kid!"
Shaking his head, he blinked hard and stared at the woman.
"What's your name?" she asked, concern edging out the panic in her eyes.
Thank you for not screaming anymore.
He cleared his throat and said, "Sam."
She smiled a little and said, "Emily."
"Hi."
"Hi, Sam." She took a few deep breaths and Sam was waiting for the screaming to start again, but instead, she asked, "Did you find your phone, Sam?"
"No. I...uh…" He looked up the road. His phone was probably in the back seat of the Impala. Probably had fallen out when Dean had grabbed his backpack. Looking back at Emily, he said, "It's not in my backpack."
Emily pursed her lips and blew out a very long, slow breath, nodding. When she was finished, she asked, "What are you doing out here all alone?"
Sam narrowed his eyes. It was none of her business. It probably wasn't polite to say that, so he shrugged, "Just takin' a walk."
"Bad day for a walk," she said, with a brief smile.
She seemed nice and was kinda pretty. In a grown up way. Dean would probably like her. The thought of his brother left his chest tight.
"Sam," Emily said, moaning a little. "Hon, I know you're scared-"
"I'm not scared of anything," he said, getting back to his feet and glaring at her.
She let loose with another shrill scream and her hand went between her legs and proved him a liar.
He was more than scared.
He was terrified.
The screaming died down and Emily was talking to him again, "Sam, I need your help. Just a little."
She was huffing and puffing again and pushing herself to her feet. He watched in horror as she kicked her underwear off.
"I'm getting...in the back…"
His eyes widened as she started walking, no waddling, forward. She held the keys out to him. Her face was white and streaked with tears, but she was trying to smile.
"Trunk...blankets...please."
There was blood running down her legs and Sam almost threw up right then. But she was holding the keys out and she was pregnant and had just been in a car crash and she was having a baby! He took the keys with numb fingers and rushed toward the back of the car. She was moaning again and he buried his head in the trunk and hunted for the blankets.
By the time he'd gathered the blankets - and whatever was left of his courage - Emily was half sitting up in the backseat, one leg braced on the side of the driver's seat, the other on the back seat and everything in between on full display.
Health Class had never prepared him for this.
His face was burning like he'd kissed a campfire. What the hell was he supposed to do now? Blankets held in front of him like a shield, he met Emily's gaze.
She smiled, sweat and tears running down her face. Nodding, she lifted a hand and waved him closer. He struggled to get his feet to cooperate.
"Sam," Emily said, sounding very calm. "Just give me the blankets, ok? Then could you just go find help? I know...you're on a...walk, but I'd really...appreciate it."
"I'm not leaving you." The words popped out of his mouth, surprising them both. He moved forward, handing the blankets to her. "I can help."
"Thank you."
She bit her lip, and stopped breathing for a moment, then went back to panting as she set the top blanket on the back of the seat. With shaking hands, she opened the other one up and tried to spread it between her legs.
For the baby.
Sam helped get the blanket ready, then looked helplessly up at her.
Emily gave him a quick smile, then went back to the weird, pursed lip breathing. After a few seconds, she said, "This baby is coming really soon, Sam. Everything's gonna be alright, ok? I actually deliver babies for a living."
The image of Emily behind the wheel of a big brown UPS truck flashed through his mind and Sam almost laughed.
"Never thought I'd be delivering my own baby." Emily did laugh, but it turned quickly into a moan.
Sam took a step back when he saw something being pushed out from between her legs. All he could think about was Alien and how Dean had laughed so hard when he'd thrown up in the bag of popcorn after the alien had popped out of Kane's chest. Waves of heat swept over him and he started feeling queasy again and then he looked at Emily.
She was alone. In the backseat of a car on the side of the road. She was having a baby. Right now. And he was all she had to help her.
"What do I do?" he asked, his voice shaking as badly as his hands were.
Emily was trying to slow her breathing. She said, "The baby and I will do all the work. All you need to do is wrap her up in the blankets when she comes out."
Mouth bone dry and heart pounding in his ears, Sam nodded.
The next few minutes passed in a rush and then Emily stopped screaming and a new, quieter, more squeaky cry split the night. Hands working on an automatic impulse he didn't even know his brain possessed, Sam eased a tiny baby into the blanket.
"She's so pretty," he whispered, tears running down his cheeks.
She was pretty. Under the guck she was covered in - something that would probably gross him out under any other circumstances. Right now, though, it felt like his heart was gonna explode.
He'd never believed you could fall in love with someone at first sight.
Now he did.
The baby looked like a doll. She was so small. Her cries were pitiful and she was slippery and he was afraid he was going to crush her. Wrapping the blanket around her, he stared at her tiny face, wondering how he could hope to pick her up without hurting her.
"She won't break."
Sam looked up at the sound of Emily's voice. She was leaning against the door, wrung out but happy. Content. Not screaming. She held out her hands.
"You'll do fine. Just support her neck when you lift her."
He nodded, biting his lip and concentrating harder than he'd ever concentrated on anything before. She weighed nothing. The little bundle in his hands. Awed, he couldn't take his eyes off her as he gave her to Emily.
"Thank you, Sam. You did great."
Emily smiled at him, then concentrated on the crying bundle. She soothed her and ever so gently wiped the baby's face with a corner of the blanket. And then she opened her shirt and unwrapped the blanket, nestling the baby against her chest.
For a few seconds, Sam watched in fascination as the baby nursed, then the chill began to set in and he grabbed the second blanket and spread it over Emily.
"Thank you," she said again.
Sam nodded then blurted out, "You were amazing!"
Emily laughed then said, "That is the exact thing a woman wants to hear at a moment like this. You're gonna make some woman very happy someday."
"Uh uh." Sam shook his head, thinking about what he'd just seen. "I'm never gonna do that to some girl."
She laughed again. "Well, maybe not, but don't stop being polite and sweet, ok?"
"Uh...ok."
She shifted her legs, groaning a little, then said, "You're soaked to the bone. Sit down and close the door."
It was a little weird to get into a car with a stranger, but he'd seen more of this stranger than he'd ever seen of any other stranger. And he'd helped deliver her baby. So they were kind of friends.
"So, Sam. Just taking a walk?" Emily tilted her head once he was settled. "What were you really doing out here all alone?"
Any irritation he felt at her question was drowned in his continued amazement of what he'd just witnessed. Wrapping his arms around himself because he was freezing, Sam said, "I'm not alone. Well...I mean...I wasn't. My brother...we got into a huge fight. And...so I...I just needed to walk."
"Where's your brother?"
Sam stared at the baby and shrugged. "He drove away. But he...he'll come back."
"You don't sound sure."
"Yeah. I am."
And it surprised him a little, but he was sure. Dean wouldn't leave him. No matter how much of a jerk he'd been.
Emily still looked worried and Sam tried to picture his mother's face. Tried to conjure up the image of her from the faded photographs and picture her looking at him like Emily was now. Worrying about him. It hurt more than he'd expected it to and he swiped his hand over his face to brush away the tears.
They sat in silence for several minutes, then Emily peered down at the baby. Curious, Sam leaned a little closer, holding his breath. She was asleep.
Emily wrapped the blankets around the baby again, then asked, "Do you want to hold her?"
"Yes." He hadn't intended to sound so eager. What did he know about holding babies?
Smiling, Emily handed the tiny bundle to him.
Awkwardly trying to hold onto the baby without squishing her, Sam whispered, "What's her name?"
"Hadn't really settled on one yet. Any suggestions?"
Sam shook his head. He didn't know what you were supposed to name a baby.
"My husband and I were torn between Charlotte and Joy."
"Joy," Sam said to himself, trying the name out. "She doesn't look like a Charlotte."
"I didn't think so either," Emily said softly.
Sam smiled. The baby's pink lips parted and her nose wrinkled as she yawned. It was adorable.
The rain was dying off, but he was reminded that they were in a car in a ditch on the side of a deserted road with no phones and a very tiny baby named Joy.
Looking up, Sam asked, "What do we do now?"
"I phoned my husband just before I left the house," Emily said before yawning just like her daughter. "We were going to meet for a movie. Joy wasn't supposed to be making her appearance for another week so I wasn't expecting this. I'm sure Drew has been trying to call me. He'll be on his way to look for me soon if he isn't already."
Sam nodded, glancing at the baby. Emily was confident her husband was coming to find her. He smiled, trying to guess who was going to get here first.
Her husband or his brother.
Sam was banking on his brother.
The Impala shook when a bolt of thunder hit just above.
Dean smacked his head on the window when he jumped. It was a rude awakening and the darkness and pouring rain outside were as much a shock as the thunder had been. He sat up and rubbed his eyes, trying to get his sluggish brain back into action.
The rain was coming down hard and the lightning was splitting the sky in violent, jagged bursts of color and Dean was staring at the spectacle like a fool. And then he looked at his watch.
And then he cursed because he'd fallen asleep.
"An hour?"
He fumbled for his phone as he sat up and started the car. No messages.
"No messages?"
That wasn't right. An entire hour and Sam hadn't called? It was pouring rain and the kid was still that pissed with him? Pissed enough that he was still out there in the rain being stubborn?
Dean dialed his brother's number.
The phone rang...in the back seat.
"Crap."
He looked over his shoulder and there was Sam's phone sitting on the back seat.
"Crap, crap, crap," Dean muttered, flipping the wipers on high and spinning the car around. "Stupid, stupid, stupid!"
He pushed the pedal to the floor.
"What the hell were you thinking?"
What he'd been thinking, of course, had been how dumping Sam on the side of the road was probably a better idea than strangling him.
Now, a hundred nightmares were rushing through his brain like previews to horror movies.
Sam - fallen in a ditch, lying there with a broken leg.
Sam - struck by lightning.
Sam - kidnapped.
Sam - dead on the side of the road.
Dean knew he was going too fast on the slippery road, but didn't care. All he cared about was finding his brother. Why had he gotten so angry in the first place? Sam was a just a kid. He was the adult. He should never have lost his self-control like that.
He was busy berating himself, but not so busy that he didn't see the blue Toyota in the ditch. Heart in his throat, he had a vision of his little brother caught between a drunk driver and a tree and he almost threw up. Slamming on the brakes, the car skidded along the wet road.
He called 911 before the Impala had even come to a complete stop. Throwing the car into park, he finished giving directions and then ended the call even though he knew he should have stayed on the line.
Dean grabbed the keys and opened his door, terrified to look lest he find his brother's body in pieces on the hood of the car.
And then he heard Sam's voice and the world turned right side up again.
Dean slammed the car door and ran toward the blue Toyota, trying to decide what he was going to do first. He wanted to beat Sam's ass. He wanted to grab him and hug him tight and never let go. He needed to apologize and…
He couldn't do any of those things because as soon as he got to the open back door of the car, Sam was shh-ing him.
"Dean, look! She's sleeping," Sam whispered, glancing up from a bundle of blankets in his arms.
And Dean couldn't find a single thing to say.
All he could do was stare at his brother. The kid was a mess. Soaked. Shivering. Face flushed. Looked like he'd been crying.
But none of that mattered.
Because Sam was smiling and the absolute wonder in his eyes blew Dean away.
And then Sam looked down and Dean realized he was holding a baby. Eyes widening, Dean leaned further into the car and glanced beyond the baby. A disheveled, gorgeous blonde woman was leaning back against the other door. She smiled and waved her fingers.
"Hi."
"Uh, hi," Dean said, keeping his voice soft.
"I'm Emily."
"Dean."
"Big brother, huh?" Emily asked, winking at him.
"Yeah. Uh...what happened?"
Sam snickered, glancing up from the baby.
Dean rolled his eyes. "Other than the obvious."
Emily laughed, then said, "Joy there decided to come early. I lost control on the road and Sam came to help me."
Of course he did.
"Are you alright?"
"I'm fine." Emily nodded. "Thank you. Do you have a phone? I'd like to call my husband."
Fumbling in his pocket, Dean handed her the phone. "I already called an ambulance."
"Thank you."
"No problem," he said, then turned his attention to his brother as Emily called her husband. Lowering his voice, he asked, "Sammy?"
"Yeah?" His gaze was on the baby.
"Are you ok?"
Sam nodded.
"Hey."
"I'm ok, Dean," Sam said, meeting his eyes. Some of the wonder had been replaced with fear.
Knowing his brother was worrying about the fight, Dean said, "We'll talk about it later, ok? Right now, we're just gonna take care of Emily and Joy."
Sam nodded, still troubled. He returned his gaze to the baby.
Dean took a deep breath, running a hand over his face, attempting to come to terms with everything. Emily was speaking softly to her husband while Sam held her baby. Sam was dripping wet and shivering and Dean wanted to get him dried off and into a dry coat but didn't know where to start because Sam was holding a baby.
By the time the first siren sounded in the distance some twenty minutes later, Dean had tied himself into knots worrying and feeling helpless and accomplishing absolutely nothing. It had stopped raining at some point, Dean honestly wasn't sure when, but he wasn't going to complain.
The emergency personnel arrived in a blur - a deputy, volunteer firefighters, and finally the ambulance. Emily accepted the baby back from Sam as the paramedics crowded around the car. Her husband arrived shortly thereafter with a squeal of tires and panicky shouts, and was soon pushing through the crowd of people to get to his wife. Dean seized the opportunity to extricate his brother from the hubbub.
After depositing Sam on the front passenger seat, Dean went for the trunk for a blanket. He tossed it at his brother, then retrieved his backpack. While Sam sat there shivering despite the blanket, Dean dug around for a dry shirt and Sam's coat. He hovered over him until he'd changed, then tossed the backpack into the trunk and closed it. Taking a deep breath, he rounded the car, and sank into the driver's seat.
"Dean, I'm sorry," Sam blurted out before Dean could open his mouth.
"Sam-"
"Really. I'm sorry." Sam looked up at him, his eyes wide. "What I said...the way I acted-"
"Well, you were kind of a brat," Dean teased.
Sam hunched in on himself and this time it wasn't because he was cold.
Dean smiled and shook his head. He wrapped his arm around his brother and pulled him closer. Sam was stiff as a board, but Dean just held him tighter.
All the what if's and what could have happened's floated through his mind and he was so incredibly thankful his brother was safe that nothing else mattered.
"Sammy, I don't care what you said or how you acted, alright?" Dean said softly, squeezing his shoulder. "Maybe you were a bit of a brat, but you're my little brother so that's kind of part of the job."
Sam snorted and relaxed just a pinch against him.
"Look, man, I know you hate all this moving around. But we had a pretty great time these past couple of months, right?"
"Yeah." Sam sniffed, and wiped his nose on his coat sleeve.
"Yeah, we did. Sucks that we had to leave. I didn't want to either."
"I know."
Dean nodded, smiling a little. He mussed Sam's hair and said, "It was a bad day. That's all. We both said some stuff we didn't mean. But it's ok. We're ok. Right?"
"Right."
Relieved to hear some conviction in his tone, Dean caught sight of Emily waving a hand from inside the ambulance. Her husband was smiling and holding the baby. He and all the paramedics and everyone else were looking their way.
"Why don't you go say goodbye to Emily. I think she wants to talk to you." Dean gently pushed his brother toward the still open passenger side door.
He watched with a smile as Emily and her husband thanked Sam. Sam got to peek at the baby one more time and when he turned around, he was grinning.
"So," Dean said, as Sam got back into the car and the ambulance pulled away. "Delivering babies in your spare time, huh? Gonna be a doctor when you grow up?"
Sam grimaced. "Eww, no. That was so gross! There was so much blood and -"
Dean tried to tune out Sam's description of whatever else there had been. In all honesty, he didn't want to know. Like ever.
"I thought I was gonna puke," Sam said dramatically, shifting in his seat so he was facing Dean. "I mean, I don't know what was going on down there."
Dean couldn't help but laugh at the disgusted expression on his brother's face.
"Then the baby just came out of..." Sam motioned downward, his face draining of color.
"Whoa, whoa," Dean said, gently pushing Sam's head down toward his knees. "No fainting, Dr. Winchester."
Sam kept his head down, his breathing uneven. After a few seconds, though, he tilted his head and looked up, asking, "How does that even happen?"
Dean laughed so hard he pulled a muscle. By the time Sam had recovered enough to push himself upright, Dean was still trying to rein in the last of his amusement. Sam didn't seem bothered. He seemed lost in his own world.
"And then she was there," he said softly. He held out his hands and looked down as if he was seeing the baby. "She was right there. It was amazing."
"I bet it was," Dean said, starting the engine.
He couldn't stop smiling as he listened to his brother tell the complete story of how he'd helped bring little Joy into the world.
After a couple minutes, though, the flood of excited chatter petered out and Sam just looked miserable.
"Hey," Dean said, reaching over to thump Sam on the shoulder. "What's up? You're not gonna pass out now are ya?"
"I'm fine." Sam huffed and rolled his eyes.
"Yeah, you look fine. What's going on?"
Sam huddled against the door, slumped so far down that his head was completely below the seat back. Dean couldn't help but smile at the pathetic picture. From his perspective, everything was peachy. He'd gotten his brother back in one piece and Sam had gotten to experience the wonder of birth.
Dean was really glad he'd missed that part.
Shaking his head, he asked, "You cold?"
It was a reasonable guess. Sam's arms were wrapped around his chest and his hair was still wet. Dean turned up the heat.
"I'm not cold," Sam muttered, not moving from his position.
Dean left the heat up and took a moment to breathe. They might have apologized for earlier but he wasn't sure he could handle it if Sam went back to being a surly monster. After he'd refreshed his limited supply of patience, Dean glanced at his brother again. This time, Sam happened to meet his gaze.
He wasn't surly or angry.
He was scared.
"What's going on?" Dean asked gently. "You were just talking my ear off about that baby and now you-"
"It's all my fault."
Dean raised an eyebrow at the whispered confession. He asked, "What's your fault?"
No answer.
"Sam."
"We're gonna be late," Sam said, sinking lower in the seat.
Ah! Now I get it.
Dean smiled and shook his head. Reaching over, he tugged on Sam's sleeve and said, "Sit up before you're on the floor."
Sam inched upwards, his head barely reaching the top of the seat. How that slumped position could be remotely comfortable, Dean didn't know. Satisfied, more or less, now that Sam wasn't practically curled up on the floorboard, Dean turned his attention back to the subject.
"It's not your fault we're gonna be late."
"Yes it is."
"No, it's not."
"It is!"
"It's not."
"Deeeeean."
Ugh. Whining. Kill me now.
Dean shook his head and said, "It's not your fault. I'm the one who threw you out on the side of the road."
"Because I was being a jerk."
"Well, yeah, but I wasn't exactly being nice, either."
Sam sunk back down an inch and mumbled, "You were nice. You bought me a Slurpee."
"Biggest one they had," Dean agreed. "Look, man. We can do this all day. I don't know about you, but I really don't want to."
He got a fleeting second of eye contact, then Sam went back to staring at the dashboard.
"It was a bad day. Let's leave it at that."
"But-"
"But nothing," Dean cut him off before he could get started. Only his little brother would keep arguing about stopping arguing. "You still hate me?"
"What? No." Sam looked appalled.
"Good. Well I don't hate you either."
"Dad does."
Heaven help me.
Dean shook his head, wishing he didn't have to constantly try to reassure his brother of something that should have been obvious.
"Sam, he doesn't hate you." Holding up a hand to stave off Sam's next statement, Dean continued, "And he's not gonna be mad at us for being late."
Sam snorted.
"He won't be mad. He'll be proud." Dean enjoyed the expression of complete befuddlement on his brother's face. "Dude, you delivered a baby!"
Instead of looking happy, Sam looked horrified. "Don't tell Dad!"
"Why not?" Dean asked cluelessly.
"Because then he'll...he'll ask what happened. And then we'll have to tell him that I fought with you and made us late and that you made me walk and -"
"Holy crap, Sam!" Dean held up a hand. He was torn between amusement and frustration. "Take a breath. Look, it's gonna be fine. He doesn't even have to know we had a fight."
"How?" Sam finally sat up, his eyes wide as he clutched the dashboard.
"I'll handle Dad."
"How?"
Dean rolled his eyes and said, "Sometimes I regret teaching you to speak."
"Deeeean."
"Stop whining, bitch."
"I'm not."
"You are."
"I'm not!" Sam shouted.
"Well now you're yelling." Dean punched him gently in the shoulder.. "I can handle yelling, but that whining…"
"You're a jerk." Sam huffed, flopping back against his seat and crossing his arms over his chest.
"And you're whining."
"Shut up," Sam said, shrinking down in his seat again. "What'er you going to tell him?"
"Will you just relax?" Dean asked, shaking his head. Sam was still a bundle of nerves and close to hyperventilating. "It's gonna be ok. I'm not gonna throw you under the bus."
"But what are you going to tell him?"
Like a dog with a bone...
"How 'bout I tell him the bridge washed out?"
"What bridge?"
"Does it matter?"
Sam frowned, considering.
"Or I could tell him we got abducted by aliens but they returned us cuz you're so nerdy they were afraid you'd take over their civilization."
"Dean." Sam glared at him.
"What? Seems legit to me." Dean smiled.
There was no way to know what kind of a mood their dad was in and Dean didn't know how much trouble they were going to be in for being late. Nor did he have a clue what he was going to say to save their bacon.
But he wasn't telling his brother that because Sam was still slouched in the seat and practically wringing his hands.
Of course, that was the moment his phone rang. Sam jumped like a gun had gone off. Dean rolled his eyes. Checking his phone, he wasn't surprised to see it was his father.
Oh boy, Sam's going to lose his mind.
Dean flipped his phone open and asked, "Dad?"
Sure enough, Sam sucked in a huge breath. Dean ignored him and focused on the phone call.
"Where are you boys?" Dad didn't sound angry or stressed.
"Almost to the motel," Dean said, watching Sam out of the corner of his eye. "Where are you?"
"Plans changed. I'm not gonna be back to the motel till late tonight."
"Uh...ok."
"So settle in. We're gonna be at it early tomorrow. Sammy give you any trouble with leaving?"
"Nope." Dean lied, glancing at his brother.
Sam was on the edge of the seat. His eyes were wide and he was mouthing what's he saying?
Dean shook his head and held up a finger.
"Really?" Dad asked. "I figured he would've pitched a fit. I know he liked it there. I'll need your help on this one or I wouldn't have pulled you away."
"Maybe say that, ok?" Dean suggested.
There was a heavy sigh on the other end of the line then his dad said, "I'll see you boys tonight."
Dean heard the click on the other end and shoved his phone into his pocket.
Huh.
"Dean?" Sam asked, yet again shrinking down in his seat. It was like he expected Dad to jump out of nowhere and start yelling at him. "What's going on? He's angry, isn't he?"
Dean was tempted to let Sam think so, but decided it wasn't fair.
"He's not angry. He's not in town."
Sam's eyes widened.
"Doesn't even know we're late." Dean grinned.
"Really?"
"Really. So stop freaking out, will ya?"
"I'm not freaking out."
Dean shot his brother a meaningful look.
"Alright, maybe I was freaking out. A little," Sam added. He finally relaxed in his seat.
"So, I'm thinkin' we get a pizza for dinner. Sound good?" Dean asked, switching topics and turning the radio on.
"Sure."A couple minutes passed, then Sam asked, "Can we get ice cream, too?"
"Works for me."
There was blessed silence for fifteen seconds.
"Dean?"
"Yeah, Sammy?"
"Thanks. For coming back for me."
"Of course I came back for you. You think I wanted to explain to Dad that I lost you?" Dean teased. "He'd never take me on another hunt for the rest of my life and then where would I be?"
Sam snickered then said, "Glad you have your priorities in order."
Dean opened his mouth to give a sarcastic reply, but couldn't. Because his priorities hadn't been in order. Not at first. If his priorities had been in order, he wouldn't have dumped his brother on the side of the road no matter how frustrated he was.
"Maybe it was a good thing."
"What? That I came back for you?" Dean asked, seeing the pensive expression on his brother's face.
Sam tilted his head, looking far too mature. He said, "Well, yeah. But maybe it was a good thing that I was out there in the first place. I mean, what would Emily have done?"
It was a fair question, but didn't really absolve Dean of the guilt of allowing his anger to get the best of him. He could still feel the panic in his chest when he'd realized Sam didn't have his phone.
On his way back for his stranded little brother, Dean's overactive imagination had concocted a lot of horrible possibilities. If anything had happened to Sam because he'd dumped him on the side of the road...never mind what Dad would've said, Dean would never have forgiven himself.
Regret flooding him, he tightened his grip on the steering wheel. Pulling his thoughts away from the what if's, Dean glanced at his brother.
Sam resembled a drowned puppy, was turning faintly green, and - yet again - seemed intent on telling Dean everything he'd never wanted to know about childbirth, but he was there.
"I'll always come back for you, Sammy." The words slipped out, but he was glad he'd said them.
Sam broke off from his dramatic retelling and nodded. "I know."
"Good." The knot of tension behind his ribs dissipated a bit more.
"But, Dean?"
"Yeah?"
"Maybe next time make sure I have my phone, ok?" Sam grinned, his eyes bright with amusement.
Dean laughed.
Sam was ok.
They were ok.
And that was all that mattered.
Hope you enjoyed! have a great week!