Title: Sonata
Rating: Hard R/soft NC-17
Length: 8,685/10,000
Summary: The one where Sam has a one-night stand with a guy named Paul, gets pregnant and has to be told by a fascinated angel, and ends up having an incestrious relationship with his older brother. So, yeah, pretty cliched.
Original prompt made by spuffy_girl for the mpregwinchester Secret Santa. I did play a little with the prompt, I hope you don't mind, Spuffy.
Part Two: Love Burns a Circle in the Snow
Dean came back to the motel an hour after Sam fell asleep. His little brother was sleeping flat on his back like a robot, chest expanding and deflating slightly at each breathing cycle.
Castiel was sitting on an old wooden chair that he had moved farther up so he could be on the left of Sam. His face was worried, corners of his lips drooping down and eyebrows bunching up. The angel never looked up even when he heard the secure metal door slam closed when the human got in got in. Dean winced; he didn't want to wake up his brother.
Dean frowned and approached Castiel, now mindful of how loud his boots could be on the solid, tiled floor of the motel.
"You okay, Cas?"
Castiel nodded, eyes still remaining on the sleeping Sam. "Yes, I am fine."
Dean looked at his little brother more closely. He didn't look like he was in pain or sick or anything like that. Just sleeping. Maybe a little tired – small black bags forming under his eyes – and worried – mouth a little too pinched, lines starting to form on his forehead – but otherwise fine. Dean imagined that if he were asleep, he'd look a lot like that, too. They both had the world on their shoulders right now, literally.
"What's with the sudden attention you're giving to Sammy?" Dean whispered, tired himself. He had managed to get about fifty dollars from this really drunk guy who seemed to care more about Dean's ass rather than the actual game they were playing, but money is money.
"You must watch over him, Dean" Castiel said, bright blue eyes staring intensely at Dean.
"I've always watched over him."
Castiel got up from his chair and walked closer and closer to Dean until their chests were practically touching and the Winchester got a wiff of Castiel's breath. It smelled unusually clean and fresh for someone who hadn't brushed his teeth for months.
"I am serious, Dean."
"What's this about, Cas?"
"I cannot tell you. I swore."
Dean looked from Castiel to Sam, suspicions rising within him. "Swore what?"
"That I could not tell you," Castiel said, trying his best to clarify.
Dean rolled his eyes in annoyance. Trying to get something out of Castiel was like getting a horse to drink: Pointless and a loss of time.
"Is Sam in danger?"
The angel paused before answering, "No."
"That's all you're going to tell me, huh?"
"Yes, and you must continue to look out for him."
"Will Sam tell me the little secret you two have?"
Castiel shook his head. "No, he will not."
Feeling exhausted and with more than one beer in his belly, he sat on the side of his bed and started to take out off his boots and jacket, throwing it on the ground. "Fine, whatever. Be elusive and crap like that. Just let me know if something does become serious."
"Of course, Dean. Sleep well."
Dean had just barely turned over to his side, still in jeans and a shirt, when he fell asleep.
~*~
The case in San Francisco didn't take as long as they figured. The next day, they researched in the public library about the (many, it turns out) local legends and untimely deaths in that particular neighborhood. There were a few normal, but tragic, deaths they read about: a seven year old boy had died at the corner of the street ten years ago after he fell off his skateboard and hit his head and a man was killed by plugging in a hairdryer while his hands were still soaking wet, until they came across what they thought they were looking for. A man, Casey Jober, who lived in the house for about ten years had allegedly caught his wife in bed with his best friend and, in blind rage and anguish, had killed his wife along with the unborn child she carried and his best friend.
Dean had figured that Jober was still haunting the place, possibly creating his own little drama within the house, and assisted in the man's killing of wife and kids before making the man turn the gun onto himself.
It was a shut and close case; the brothers and Castiel found and burned Jober's bones. They waited a couple of days before they were back on the road, stopping whenever they saw a newspaper rack and searched the obituary section.
"What's up, Sammy?" Dean asked as they were driving down a long highway that seemed to go forever without an exit. Sam was staring out of the window and Dean could see from the reflection that his eyes were brooding and worried – well, more so than it usually is. He had always been brooding about something since he hit his preteen years. Knew too much for his own good, that boy.
Sam grunted something unintelligible, pulling his old coat closer to him. The temperatures were dropping fast as they got farther up north and Sam's ratty, worn coat had seen too many years to give his little brother enough protection.
"You need a new coat, Sammy."
"Don't have 'nough money for a new coat. This one is fine," Sam said softly and Dean noticed his brother's hand was drifting closer and closer to his stomach.
"You got a stomach ache?"
Like his stomach was suddenly on fire, Sam snatched his hand away from his midsection and onto the strap of his seatbelt, mindlessly playing with the little frayed nylon on the edges. Dean's baby was starting to get old.
Castiel, who had been sitting silently in the backseat for the better part of an hour, suggested that the brothers stop and get something to eat when they reached the next exit.
Dean quirked his eyebrow, Castiel usually never gave a second thought to the Winchesters' needs. The angel would usually have them running all over the country without a break. Dean looked at Sam, expecting to see an equally confused look on his brother's face, but Sam's eyes were still glued to the window.
Stomach starting to growl, Dean agreed and they ended up going to the closet, quickest and cheapest place they could: McDonalds. Castiel declined anything to eat and Sam said he just wanted a thing of fries and a packet of the crappy type of honey that places like McDonald's has that's all sugar water with honey-yellow dye rather than actual, bee-made honey. As soon as he said it, Castiel said Sam's name in a deep, disapproving voice and Sam sighed, slumping down even lower in his seat and ordered a hamburger and root beer instead.
Dean was reminded of how Sam used to look whenever their dad yelled at him about something and his little brother decided to go on a faux Gandhi hunger strike until their dad apologized to him. The only apology Sam ever got from their dad was a pat on the back and maybe a hot chocolate with whipped cream on it from whatever roadside diner they were eating at.
It was enough for Sam until he got older and chocolate and sweets couldn't solve everything.
Dean parked in the McDonald's parking lot and turned on the radio while he and Sam ate their food. Besides the rock and roll music blasting throughout the stereo, they remained silent, getting up and throwing their trash away in the graffiti marred trashcan when they were done.
They drove for another couple hours nonstop until they reached the border between California and Oregon and stopped in a sleepy, Mayberry-like town. It being wintertime in the northwest, the little sun they had set around four and it soon started to sprinkle and then drizzle and then bring down a horrible, drenching, down-pouring rain that made Dean miss the times they stopped in Florida. It always had a nice, tropical rain that didn't make him feel like a wet, outdoor cat afterwards.
Castiel stayed with them again that night and Dean didn't say anything about it, just shrugged it off and started to take off his boots.
When Dean went to take a shower, Sam said to Castiel, "You can't keep staying here like this, Castiel, hovering around."
Castiel tilted his head in confusion and it reminded Sam of what dogs looked like when they were scolded by their owners but had no idea why. "I already promised that I would watch over you."
"But if you do it constantly then Dean will get suspicious."
"Dean will find out, Samuel."
Sam, clothes and shoes and all, laid down on his bed, wanting this whole situation to be over and done with.
"But not because of you, right Cas?"
"Correct, not because of me. However, I feel that it's necessary to say that you must continue to put proper nourishment in your body. Not eating will not help you or your unborn child."
"Yeah, okay, sorry," Sam softly apologized, moving so he could slip under the covers and put a blue pillow over his face to block the light that he wished he had turned off.
There was a long pause before Castiel said, "I wish you and your child to survive. That is why I am concerned."
Sam took the pillow off his head so he could say that he knew that already and thanks.
He was half-asleep by the time he heard the shower door slam close and the faucet turn on.
~*~
In fact, for the next month or so, it felt like Sam was always half-asleep, doing what he needed to do and nothing more. Dean didn't say much about his brother's near-silence, occasionally giving him deep, worried looks when he thought his baby brother wasn't looking. Sometimes, Dean would go into a room where Castiel and Sam would be talking amongst each other like schoolgirls gossiping about who Robert Patterson was dating and then they would break apart quickly whenever he came in.
Dean wondered how he even knew who Robert Patterson was. Sure, he knew what 'The Suite Life of Zack and Cody' was because, even in the cheapest of motels, the television had Disney Channel alongside the copious amounts of lesbian porn and he'd watch it when he was in too much pain – physically or mentally or emotionally or some other Dr. Phil shit – to fall asleep. Something was kind of disturbingly wrong with 'Phineaus and Ferb' being right next to 'Lesbian Lovelies 2: When The Pussy Cat Got Rabies'.
Yeah, because fear of water and hallucinations and frothing at the mouth and all that other crap that went with rabies was real sexy.
They only had gotten a few cases this month, none of them as exciting or interesting Dean had wanted. None of the angels, besides Castiel who seemed to be permanently glued to Sam's side, had bothered them and Dean was just fine with that. Castiel was the only angel that he could tolerate and even that relationship was starting to get on his nerves. Castiel was becoming so… clingy. Not to him, though, but to Sam. Castiel's mouth was still closed as tight as a nun's legs – and, yeah, Dean thought that sentence was pretty damn blashphemous – about why Sam was becoming more moody and angstier than ever.
It was like fifteen-year old Sam was back with vengeance because of some type of cruel de-aging witch spell that only affected his emotions rather than his whole body and appearance.
So yeah, Dean was concerned but figured that it was mostly just a phase: A phase that made his brother even more bitchy than usual. It wasn't the best explanation, but it was the only one he could come up with and it fit Sam. His brother was always so melodramatic about every perceived slight, he always had a hard time letting the water just slide off his back.
"It's raining hard," Sam said, breaking Dean out of his thoughts.
Dean nodded, getting up and looking out the window and saw that it was starting to hail. "Yeah, looks like we're going to be here for another day or so. All the roads out of here are dirt and I don't want the Impala to be splattered with mud if we can help it. Not like we have a case or anything to follow anyway."
"Yeah," Sam said, idly playing with the loose threads at the bottom of his shirt.
"You okay, Sammy?"
Dean tried to think of how many times he had asked his brother that in the past month. Too many times, in his opinion.
"I'm fine," his brother smiled, but even ten feet away, Dean could tell that it was faked. His eyes remained far away and stoic, despite the corners of his lips being forcibly pulled up.
"You know you can tell me anything, right?" Dean was reminded of when he had to tell his brother that exact same thing after Sam had turned twelve and Dean noticed that Sam was starting to have wet dreams.
"I know that."
"Good, good. And I won't be mad, okay? No more secrets."
Sam sighed. "I know, Dean. I'm not hiding anything from you, I promise."
If Dean had been more attentive, he would have noticed the wide, almost guilty, look Castiel had just given his brother.
~*~
After that conversation, Sam made an effort to act as normally as possible around his brother. He tried to laugh at Dean's lame, dirty jokes about tits and porn and attempted to pay attention to whatever Dean said about the new hunt that were going on, but it was always half-hearted. He felt more unnatural than he did even when he was drinking Ruby's blood and it hurt. His only relief was his new shadow, also know as Castiel. He turned out to be more of a support than Sam could ever have imagined.
Sure, Castiel was almost painfully clinical with the way he talked about Sam's child and constantly protective and concerned, but Sam was slowly feeling more comfortable talking to the angel than ever before and it helped to stop the secret from eating him up inside out.
The angel would follow him and his brother on the hunts, one eye on the monster they were hunting and the other on Sam. After, he would always ask if he was okay and Sam always was. Castiel would fret like a mother hen if Sam had gotten even a bruise or cut that was even close to his stomach and the human couldn't even fathom what would happen if he got a concussion or something that would actually knock him out. Castiel would probably go berserk.
In the shower, Sam would sometimes look down at his stomach and feel around. His midsection felt a little softer, but that was also because he hadn't been working out as much. The muscles in his arms were starting to become less pronounced as well and Sam didn't think that was a symptom of… pregnancy.
Sam still had a hard time admitting that he was pregnant, even two months after he found out. The word still were so foreign in his mind and much more on his tongue.
Sam had researched pregnancy symptoms on his laptop (and, of course, quickly deleted the history after in case Dean decided he wanted to watch porn on it again and ended up on a website called Americanpregnancy instead of Americanporn) and felt pretty happy that he hadn't had any morning sickness yet. He had no idea how he would have gotten that past his brother.
His secret was kept secure between him and the angel for the next two months. At four months, Sam's stomach was starting to become more pronounced but it was rainy and still cold in April and he could hide his growing abdomen with many layers of clothes without any suspicion. It was a small blessing for Sam because he knew that eventually his brother would notice, Dean wasn't stupid, and he's have to tell him. He dreaded that day.
Luckily, things were pretty quiet (unusually quiet, in fact) on the Apocalypse front, a few nasty demons but nothing that they couldn't handle and they mostly just got bruised and cut up. Only temporary injuries.
They had arrived in Nevada after a hunt with a very crafty poltergeist in central California that left them wanting to take a small, two-day break.
Dean had wanted to go further south because he was sick of the cold and wanting to enjoy the warm, desert sun. Sam had been reluctant to say the least, the further inland they got, the more layers he had to take off so he wouldn't pass out from overheating and the more exposed his round stomach got. Dean had been annoyingly persistent though, and they landed in a tiny, desert town.
Castiel, Dean and Sam were eating at a diner when a beautiful, young woman came in with high heels and impossibly long legs. Dean's eyes were immediately glued to her and he was practically drooling. Sam rolled his eyes and continued to eat his lettuce and tomato sandwich; any type of meat had started to feel repulsive to him.
The woman walked up to the cashier, hips swaying and thick, black hair bouncing at each step, and said something to the cashier and the cashier's eyes went wide and his mouth slack.
Sam opened his mouth to say something, to warn his brother that something didn't feel right, but the woman beat him to it when she stood up on the bar and took out a long, black gun and gave the patrons of the diner a wide, sadistic smile.
"Everyone be quiet and take out your wallets, got it? Put it on the table. No funny business, or I'm going to kill everyone last one of you."
Sam and Dean looked at each other, silently deciding what to do. Dean sighed and shrugged, breath still remaining even, and he took out his wallet from his pants pocket and Sam did the same.
The woman got down from the bar and walked over to each of the tables, gun still tight in her hand, and counted the people and the number of wallets put on the table. Everyone had obeyed – the burly man sitting in the corner, the young mother with a toddler at her side, the waitress- and were all shaking in fear.
She stopped at the Winchester's table and noticed there were only two wallets and three men.
"Where's the other wallet?" She demanded, pointing the gun in between Sam and Dean.
"I don't have a wallet," Castiel stated, confused at her behavior.
The woman rolled her eyes and snorted in disbelief and turned the gun on the angel. "Yeah right, buddy. I'm serious, where the hell is it?"
"I don't have one," he repeated.
"Fine, if you want to be that way," turning the gun directly on Sam now. "Then your little friend is going to get a bullet in his brain. I want the money."
"He really doesn't have it," Dean said, panic sparking up inside of him, and when he saw the woman's finger going on the trigger, he lunged for the gun and the woman and was met with a sickening sound of a gunshot. When the woman was pinned underneath him, he looked up and saw Sam slumped on his chair, his little brother's own blood staining his jacket.
The woman had shot his little brother.
~*~
The last thing Sam remembered was Dean's voice telling him that he was going to be okay, it was just a shoulder wound, and for godsakes, Sam, stay awake and don't go into shock. He had to stay awake. Sam could only head little muffles of things that Castiel was saying and Sam's uninjured hand wandered to his stomach. He remembered himself babbling something about the baby and for Dean to take care of it and he was sorry, he was so sorry.
The last thing Sam felt were the warm hands of Dean on his forehead and cheeks and the stinging pain coming from his right shoulder.
And then everything went mercifully black.
