Mary Winchester was sitting on the sofa—comfortable as she could manage under the circumstances—waiting for John to get home. Dean was curled up at her side, a tiny hand trailing thoughtfully over the round swell of her belly.

"Are you okay, Mommy?" he asked. She had breathed her way mostly steadily through that last contraction, but there wasn't much that got past Dean.

"I'm okay, love," she assured him, rubbing his hair. "My tummy just hurts a little bit." Understatement of the year, but passable for a four year-old.

Dean scrunched up his face with concern. "But that's where Sammy is," he said worriedly. "Is he okay?"

Mary leaned in and kissed the top of his head. "Don't worry, Sammy's fine. But he's running out of room in here," she said, patting her belly. "And he's moving around getting ready to come out."

Dean wrinkled his nose. "How's he gonna get out?" He frowned and poked at her belly button, as if confirming there were no visible exits.

"That part is a little tricky," Mary admitted. And a discussion for a later time. "But the doctor is going to help him. That's why we're waiting for Daddy to take us all to the hospital."

"Is he coming out today?" Dean asked eagerly, clapping his little hands when Mary nodded. "You hear that, Sammy?" he asked, addressing her belly and patting it gently. "You get to come out today! I'm really es-sited to meet you."

"I'm sure he's excited to meet you too, sweetheart," Mary said with a laugh.

"How's he gonna know which one's me?" Dean asked her. "He's never seened me before."

"No, but he's heard you talking to him," she said warmly. "He'll recognize your voice."

The front door burst open, revealing a slightly out-of-breath John Winchester. His eyes went immediately to his wife and son. "Mary?" he asked. "Are you okay? Is it—"

"I'm fine, John," she said, getting to her feet with a wince. "But it's definitely time."

He wrapped an arm around her to steady her, guiding her towards the door. "Hurry up, Daddy!" Dean insisted, tugging on his jacket. "We gotta go get Sammy out!"


Dean was playing on the floor under the eye of a watchful receptionist when the door to the room where Mommy was opened up. "Hey, Dean," his dad said with a smile. "Are you ready to come meet your brother?"

Dean immediately abandoned his toys, leaping to his feet and then into his father's arms. "Yeah!" he enthused. Daddy carried him into the room, and he saw Mommy lying in bed. She looked tired, and Dean wondered why. Maybe she was tired of waiting for Sammy too.

Even though Mommy looked tired, she still smiled when Daddy brought Dean over and sat him at the foot of her bed. "Hi, Mommy," he said. His eyes went to the little bundle in her arms. "Is that Sammy?"

"It sure is," she told him. "Why don't you come say hello?"

Carefully, Dean crawled up the bed until he was sitting next to her. She shifted her arms so he could see the tiny little red face wrapped up in the blankets. His mouth dropped open. "Hi, Sammy," he said. Little eyes blinked open, staring around the room until they settled on his face. Dean reached out a finger, wanting to touch him but not sure if he was allowed to. "D'you know who I am? I'm Dean. I'm your big brother." Sammy reached out a tiny fist, wrapping it around his finger. Dean grinned. Mommy was right—Sammy did know who he was.

He looked up at Mommy. "Can I hold him?"

"If you're very careful," she said. Daddy helped Dean settle back into the pillows by Mommy, and picked up Sammy and put him gently in Dean's lap.

Dean wrapped his arms around the baby, holding up his head like Daddy showed him. "He's awful little," he commented.

Daddy laughed and tousled his hair. "Don't worry, he'll get bigger. He'll be big enough to play with you before you know it."

"But I have to be careful right now 'cause he's so little, huh?" Dean asked. He'd never been a big brother before, so he wanted to make sure he was doing it right.

"That's right," Daddy said. "You've got to watch out for him."

Dean looked back down at Sammy who yawned and closed his eyes. Dean figured it was okay for Sammy to be tired already—since he was so little, it had to be hard work doing much of anything. That was probably why it took him so long to come out. "Go to sleep, Sammy," he crooned, leaning down to kiss his forehead. "An' don't worry about anything. I'm gonna take good care of you."