A/U: Alright guys, this is basically all dialogue, which personally I like but if it's slow for you guys I apologize. We'll be gettin' to bigger better more exciting things very soon. Excuse any mistakes I have no beta for this story and I'm tired, so editing will be sparse.
Hope you all enjoy anyway.
And a huge shout out to Twinchester Angel for her wonderful review because I loved it even if I didn't deserve it. So sweet, thanks again
Warnings: language, angst
Xx
The very first thing Dean did once they reached the very first gas station they saw was call Bobby. Obviously.
"'lo?" the older man answered gruffly after two painfully long rings.
"Bobby!" Dean nearly shouted in relief, "Where you at right now?"
"Dean? Boy that you? What do ya mean where am I? Home, why?"
"It's Sam Bobby. He's sick. We were on a case in Akron. We were jumped, kidnapped in this lunatic doctor's basement. We got out, but they did somethin' to Sam. He's burnin' up, I don't know-"
"Alright, alright son calm down. You get outta Akron fast as you can. Head my way, we'll meet in Iowa City. Think that's about halfway…" He paused, "That is if we can handle this ourselves, he don't need a hospital does he?"
"I don't know, I don't think so. He's just got the chills and a fever now, he might need antibiotics if his cut gets infected but it's not there yet. I'd be getting supplies now but I need to get back to the car and motel first, oh God if they touched my car…" He groaned, "We don't have anything right now but the guy's car. I wanted to call you before I did anything. Wanted to make sure we could meet up soon." He explained self-consciously, "I feel a little outta my element here." He chuckled shakily, but there was no real humor behind the sound.
"Shit how do you boys attract so much damn trouble?" He mumbled and Dean shrugged even though Bobby couldn't see, "Okay I hear ya boy. But you just stay calm, get to your motel and high tail it out of there. I don't want you runnin' in with your friends again. Not until Sam's alright. We can deal with them later."
Dean sighed in relief, Bobby always knew exactly what to say to calm him down, "I can do that. I'll be there as quick as I can. But please hurry, Bobby."
The lines clicked dead and Dean practically ran back to the car, though it had been in sight the whole time.
"Hey Sammy, feelin any better?" He asked once they were pulling out of the lot and back onto the highway. He still couldn't believe how quickly Sam had come down with the fever; one second he'd been sleeping, the next he was shaking, shivering and moaning these little whimpering sounds. It was killing him.
Sam nodded, but Dean knew too easily it was an act to put him at ease, stupid self sacrificing little brothers. That was his job.
"Yeah, sure." Dean shook his head and pressed down on the pedal harder. Within a few minutes they were back at the bar they'd left the car at. Of course, it was nowhere to be found.
"Ugh, God damn." Dean complained, completely ready to actually stomp his foot or some shit equally ridiculous to demonstrate his frustration. If anything happened to his baby…fuck he was gonna kill them himself.
"It ain't here Sammy." Dean grumbled slumping back into the car and pulling out, ready to make one last stop back at their motel to pack up.
"Might notta been them…" Sam nearly whispered still hunched over against the window, "Impound? Car's been here…couple days. Bar mighta had it towed." He slurred sleepily in his delirium. Dean's brow shot up, never did the kid cease to amaze him. Though that suggestion shouldn't have – because Dean should've thought of it himself. That would've been the next obvious place to look. They'd head there after the motel.
"Yeah Sammy. You're probably right. Motel and then we'll go." He reached over and gripped his shoulder gently in silent appreciation and comfort before racing back around town to their motel.
It took all of ten minutes to pack up their things, which fortunately, the owner hadn't thrown out when they evicted them three nights ago. He gathered it up, found his emergency credit card in the bottom lining of his duffle and paid quickly before they were off again.
He already felt ten times lighter knowing he at least had one source of income, limited as it may be, and with it, they were on the road once again, following the tenant's directions to the impound.
Dean didn't bother with formalities as they pulled around the back of the building, he snuck his way to the back lot where the cars were stashed. The place was run down, low-tech and obviously not very often in use, so the task was pretty easy. Soon he was crouching down through the couple lanes of cars, keeping a watchful eye on the only man who seemed to working that night as he searched.
"Oh, god. Oh, my sweet baby." Dean breathed as he laid eyes on her. The last one in the last row – talk about keeping a guy on his toes. "I'll never leave you again, promise." He whispered as he pulled on the door handle. It was unlocked.
This was just too easy. Within a few minutes the car was hot-wired, because he just didn't have time to try and scout out his keys, and he was driving through the rusted chain link fence that kept the cars in. Hell if it was keeping his girl in though. He spun his tires on the slippery gravel before gaining purchase on pavement and racing toward the Neon Sam was still waiting in, ready to go.
"Sam!" He yelled through the open passenger window as he screeched to a stop beside the ugly car. Sam was out in a second, half jumping half tumbling into the familiar passenger seat of the Impala, not even getting the door shut before they were gone. They drove off to the fading sounds of an outraged man standing beside his broken fence.
Dean almost felt bad, but there were more important things to worry about now that they had their shit and their car ready to go. They were off to Iowa City.
About three hours into the drive, they were really almost there with the time Dean was making, Sam's hand shot out and slapped over his brother's chest.
"Pull over." He muttered, but the urgency in his words was all too clear. And Dean knew that tone…
Sam thrust open the door before lurching half way out, coughing and heaving up his stomach's contents.
"Ah shit, Sam c'mere." He said quietly after rubbing Sam's back through his upheaval.
"Don' feel good Dean…" Sam said through one whooshing breath as he collapsed into Dean's arms.
"I know Sammy." He sighed, gripping his brother's shoulder, "Bad enough for a hospital?" Dean asked timidly, barely getting the words out around his fear constricted throat. Sam immediately shook his head at the suggestion though and backed up to look Dean in the eye.
"No. No, don't." He paused and sighed as he shut his door and leaned back into it, "Bobby 'll...know what to do." He garbled breathlessly. And then Sam was drifting to a light sleep and all Dean could do was take his brother's word for it before speeding back onto the highway. But he did not feel good about this.
Another hour and they were in Iowa City, pulling off into the first motel they found to borrow a phone.
"Bobby we're here. At Motel 4, on Keene."
"Alright I'm about twenty minutes out. See you there kid." He said before the dial tone sounded. Dean hung up just as quickly before he rushed to pay for a room.
"Alright Sam, up and at 'em. We're here." Dean practically sang, trying to wake him as gently as possible. There was no way his limbs could handle the strain of trying to carry him in yet, so they'd have to make do. "C'mon Sam." He shook him timidly and Sam stirred, bringing a hand up to push at Dean's face.
"Oh, come on man," He muttered when a finger went up his nose and into his mouth; he jerked away before grabbing Sam's wrist and pulling the arm over his shoulders. The slight tug woke him up a little further and Dean managed to half drag Sam into the room before practically dropping him onto a bed.
"Okay easy kid, I got ya." He muttered as he pushed some hair out of Sam's squinted eyes.
"It's cold Dean. Too cold." Sam mumbled and shook his head in disapproval. Sam always took on that four year old kid persona when he was in the throes of high fever; Dean always wished he could appreciate how it could take him back years to simpler times, but it was Sam in pain. So that was all he saw.
"Lift up." Dean instructed gripping the back of his shoulders and pulling him up slowly, Sam just grunted. "Help me out here a little man, need to get the shirt off." He said into Sam's shoulder still holding him up.
Sam gave an unintelligible moan of protest again and Dean gave up.
Jesus he's getting worse. Thank god Bobby's comin'. He thought as he laid Sam back down and went to search his duffle for the spare key he thought he remembered leaving in a pair of jeans.
"Ah-ha." He muttered in quiet triumph as he stepped out, leaving the door open to bring in the weapons from the trunk. But just then a familiar growling engine sounded and Bobby's truck pulled up to a stop next to Dean's.
"Thank Christ Bobby, don't remember ever bein' this happy to see you." He joked as they shared a brief but strong hug and helped each other bring their things in.
"I'm sure," Bobby grumbled with a shake of his head, "How's he doin'?" He asked warily as they stepped inside. Dean kicked the door closed and dug a knife out of the bag full of weapons and rock salt.
"Not great." He replied before making his way back to the bed and sitting by Sam's side, noticing he was out cold.
Bobby was pulling out his med kit when Dean asked: "You don't happen to have a thermometer Bobby?" without taking his eyes from Sam.
"Who the hell you think your talkin' to? 'Course I do." He answered gruffly snatching one from his truly impressive case of medical supplies and handing it over.
Dean got Sam conscious and coherent enough to make sure he wouldn't flip if he woke to Dean cutting his shirt off, also taking the opportunity to get his mouth open. Dean got the thermometer in place, made sure Sam wouldn't let it slip and started slicing away the ugly polo. He threw the shirt aside with more force than necessary and heard Bobby's sharp intake of breath as he took in the long surgical cut down his lower belly.
"I know." Dean muttered unable to meet Bobby's probably horrified glare.
"What in God's name happened?" He grumbled pulling up a chair between the two beds and swiping the lamp and clock off the night stand to set down his med kit.
"Wish I knew." Dean started before taking out the thermometer and moving aside for Bobby to get a closer look at the cut, " 102.7." Dean shook his head and began from the beginning:
"We were at a bar, celebratin' the hunt I guess, had one too many and were jumped in the lot lookin' for the car." Bobby gave a grunt of displeasure, but didn't take his eyes off the cut he was currently cleaning, "Next thing I know I come to in this cave-like room, stripped to my boxers and hanging by my wrists from the ceiling." He glanced down at them now, noticing for the first time the raw bloody slices struggling against the chains had given him, "I looked up and saw Sam in the same position, but he had that," Dean gestured to the wound.
"Well whatever maniac did it knew how to stitch. It looks professional." He said through the undertones of anger in his voice, "I can't understand what in the hell it could be for though. Unless they were organ thieves, but you don't got any cuts." He observed out loud as he finished bandaging it and sat back. Sam was still out of it and quickly drifted back to sleep once Bobby was finished, rolling on his side to face away from them.
"How long were you two there?" He asked turning back to Dean who was watching Sam intently.
"Three, four days?" He guessed, "What's today?" In all the commotion he hadn't even bothered to check.
"It's Friday, son." Bobby answered, obviously concerned. Dean quickly did the math, they'd been at the bar Monday night.
"Three nights, four days then. Tonight would've been the fourth slumber party…" He trailed off bitterly, lost in thought and debating what all he should tell Bobby about their little adventure. He hated to admit, but some of it was just downright embarrassing, a lot of it he didn't understand, and all of it he didn't feel like talking about.
After a minute though he knew he had to at least try, for Sam's sake.
"Bobby the guy was a doctor. Like a real doctor I think, cause there was this other one: a reporter or journalist or something and he only ever called the guy 'doctor'. And the two of them...one time they were talking about getting their reward, getting the prize they deserve or some shit. I figured the guy was a journalist cause he said he wanted a Pulitzer-"
"You know what that is?" Bobby interrupted incredulously.
"Yeah, I think. I mean it's an award for writer's or like, journalists right?" Dean asked wondering if he'd just made an idiot of himself.
"Well yeah, most of the time, I just didn't know…" Bobby shook his head, surprised.
"I knew?" Dean finished, brow shooting up; Bobby shrugged.
Dean huffed a sigh, "Kay well, anyway so these two were working together. Like experimenting on humans. And a lot of their…subjects weren't making it through whatever they were doing, once the doc asked if the other guy had 'disposed of the bodies,'" Dean shook his head, brow furrowed in disgust as he took a deep breath to steady himself, "They were adamant about Sam makin' it though," He said deeply reassuring himself as much as Bobby. "Obviously he was the main test subject for this whole thing." Motioning to the crumpled form on the bed.
Bobby let out a breath he'd been holding since Dean had admitted people were being experimented on and subjects were dying.
"Well shit. What the hell have you two dragged yourselves into now?" He whispered mostly to himself. Dean didn't even have it in him to retort against that statement, because they definitely hadn't dragged themselves into anything, so he just shrugged.
"Then what'd they want you there for if all they were experimentin' on was Sam?" Bobby asked once the question occurred to him. Dean blushed on cue and ducked his head to hide from Bobby's gaze, like a child about to admit they'd just accidentally wet the bed or something.
"Uh…well…" There was no way he was going to be able to get this out.
"Dean." Bobby stressed, "What'd they do son?" He asked; it sounded a lot like a threat though as his temper rose quickly.
"They um, they…well, there was this girl…" Wrong way to start.
"Oh your kiddin' Dean. What the hell'd you do?" He slapped his knee leaning forward, disappointment all over his words.
"I didn't do anything Bobby!" He yelled and Sam stirred groaning quietly. Dean quickly calmed down and let out a breath, relaxing his shoulders to start again, "She was a…hooker or stripper or somethin'…they'd hired her to, um…well they wanted my…uh…" His voice was cracking and wavering all over the place, as if this wasn't humiliating enough, "Ah fuck Bobby they wanted my seed alright?" He exclaimed in his gravelly low voice, ducking again to rub the back of his neck as heat rose coloring his neck and cheeks. Dean couldn't remember ever being more uncomfortable in his life.
"Oh." Bobby answered quietly as his breath left him in a near silent rush.
Dean turned back to face him, not surprised when he saw the shock there, "I fought it Bobby I swear I did," He started, suddenly feeling the need to defend himself, "Nothing she was doing was working, I promise. Ya know, I was scared, and Sam was right there…unconscious but still." Bobby grimaced with Dean, "And it just, nothing worked. But then, she did something. She had something and she…well. Fuck I don't know she used it on me and then I couldn't help it. There was nothing I could do I swear, there was no way to stop-"
"Hey, hey calm down." Bobby cut off his panicked rambling, seeing he was getting worked up in his guilt, "It's okay Dean, look at me." He put a firm hand on his neck and turned his head to face him, "Not your fault alright. It sounds like," Bobby paused and backed up putting his elbows on his knees, raking a hand down his face, "Well if I'm understandin' your vague descriptions right it sounds like she…milked you." He admitted sympathetically.
Dean's brow crumpled and his eyes turned to slits, "What?"
"It's what it's called." He shrugged, "There's nothin' you coulda done kid, don't beat yourself up." He patted him on the shoulder once and turned back to Sam. Dean shuddered and did the same, more than ready to drop this.
"Well did they say what they wanted with it?" Bobby had to ask a few tense seconds later.
"Not really." Dean answered wishing he could just say no and leave it at that. But he knew now would be the time to delve into the last conversation he'd had with the doctor, one he begrudgingly knew he had to bring up. The one most disturbing. And the one couldn't begin to understand.
"Go on." Bobby encouraged.
"Um, well…he said some pretty crazy shit Bobby. I didn't know what to make of it. And there was only one way I could really think to understand it, but it's just not possible. So I let it go, ya know?"
"Well before you let it go at least tell me what he said. Anything could help at this point."
"Okay well I should start by explaining what he did…just before he told me this stuff." He started; his voice low and tense as a wave of pain and nausea crashed over him like tidal waves on a rocky shore. Just massive and explosive and raw as he recalled the horrific hour of undeterred screams, one after another falling from his seventeen year old brother. The one who didn't deserve any of this shit.
"Dean you alright?" Bobby asked when he saw the mood shift, twist his features. He was hurting, and that worried Bobby to no end.
Dean nodded shakily with a fist over his taut lips, a muscle in his jaw working overtime as he fought against whatever emotions were working to get out, "Yeah Bobby, it's just uh…" He cleared his throat and schooled his features before facing him, "You should've seen him." His raised brow crinkled, "Screamin' his damn lungs out." He whispered as he looked back down to the floor again.
"What, Sam?" Bobby asked, with a barely noticeable tremble. Dean nodded again and continued.
"The doc, he uh, was doin' something." He shrugged disbelievingly, "He was sittin' behind him…had his uh, pants…pulled down… Fuck." He breathed into his fist and squeezed his eyes shut tight, but kept going, "It took a long time, whatever the hell he was doin' to him. And his…he was screamin' bloody murder the whole time." Water pooled in his eyes, "Didn't let up for more than a minute or two." He sniffed and blinked, getting the tears to retreat as he let out a strangled sigh.
Bobby looked as distraught as Dean felt once he turned back to him with his elbows on his knees and back hunched in defeat. Bobby was leaned back in his rickety chair again, eyes wide, pooling, slack jawed. Shocked, disgusted, in denial most likely.
"God damn." He whispered once he could and put both hands on his knees as if to keep himself steady. "You don't…got any idea why…what the bastard was doin'?" He asked, infuriated. Dean tilted his head unable to really shake it no.
"Well that's where it gets weird. What he was tellin' me after, Sam had passed out I think." Dean took another second to calm his thundering heart enough to speak again, "He said he was…planting an 'artificial egg.' He muttered something about 'his genes, my genes' and that Sam's body would go through a lot of…changes but that he'd…" Dean let out a frustrated huff of breath, knowing his next words would make it impossibly clear exactly what the theory he'd come up with was.
"He'd what Dean?" Bobby prompted when he didn't answer fast enough.
"He'd be there for all nine months of it." Dean answered looking straight at the ground through his entangled hands. He heard all the air escape his friend's lungs for the second time within hour.
It only confirmed Bobby had drawn the same conclusion Dean had, and that meant he couldn't forcefully deny it any more. Because it was true, all the facts pointed to one insane, impossible explanation.
"Nine months huh?" Bobby confirmed quietly, "And you didn't see any witch craft stuff around, he wasn't chantin' any mumbo jumbo, no spells or curses?"
"Not that I saw." Dean lifted his shoulders, "Looked like a doctor Bobby. Maybe retired outta his mind insane, but human and not workin' with anything supernatural." Dean shook his head.
"Well, I think you know what everything you just told me kind of…automatically makes ya think, no matter how crazy." Bobby stated obviously not wanting to say the exact words aloud.
"Yeah." He whispered, "But it's not true. 'Cause it's not possible." Dean shrugged as if saying the words meant the option was ruled out.
"As far as we know. But we need someone to confirm it." Bobby admitted, "Who knows what this guys capable of." He murmured and when Dean looked over for reassurance, he got everything but. The obvious fear there freaked Dean the hell out. Bobby was their rock. The go to guy when him and Sam stepped in shit; knowing something had rattled him enough to lose his steadfast calm scared Dean. It meant he thought this could really be possible, could really be happening. They could really be sitting here, wondering whether Sam, his innocent little by-stander of a brother, was… he couldn't even think it.
Dean snapped running his hands roughly through his hair before standing abruptly and pacing the room, "Well do you know anyone who could…help us?" He snarled, more anger in his tone then he meant for.
"Like a doctor?"
Dean shrugged, "Preferably a sane one." He offered sarcastically.
"Well can't promise anything there," Bobby said ignoring his tone, "but I know a guy. Trustworthy, knows what he's doin', and harmless."
"He's not like your physician or some shit, he knows about our life right?"
"Yeah, a'course I'm not an idiot." Bobby grumbled.
Tensions we're high, really high, like static in the room. Dean was buzzing around like a restless, caged up tiger and Bobby was stiff in his chair, strung-out.
"Call him." Dean barked and slowly came to a standstill as Bobby got up and went outside to make the call, feeling they could both use a few minutes alone to process the situation. The possibilities it presented.
A tiny sound yanked his head back in Sam's direction and away from the window, but a few quiet seconds passed and he wondered if it'd been his imagination. He was quietly walking over, suddenly wary of waking him, when he saw Sam's shoulders shake once in what he could only guess to be a stifled sob.
"Oh, Sam." He whispered and quickly sat next to him gently pulling on his left shoulder to roll him half way on his back. There were indeed small thin wet tracks sliding off his cheeks sideways. Dam it hurt to see them.
"We wake you up?" He asked like a fool, knowing full well what the answer was. Sam just nodded and turned his face away a little.
"I'm sorry Sammy," Dean whispered mostly because he didn't know what else he could say. Sam nodded again and Dean just bowed his head, wondering what he could possibly do to fix this.
"How do you feel?" He asked raising his head a moment later. Sam shrugged still avoiding verbal responses.
"Fever gone down at all?" Dean asked brushing a hand over his forehead, but Sam jerked away from the touch and he retreated quickly. "I'm not gonna hurt you Sam." He explained, confused.
"I know." He whispered still looking away from Dean.
"Sam were gonna work this out alright, I promise. You're gonna be okay." He reassured just as Bobby walked back in.
"Oh," He breathed shutting the door, "Heya Sam. Good to see you awake," He said trying for a smile as he approached the bed and put the phone back in his pocket. Sam at least made the effort to return it as he glanced up at Bobby and Dean couldn't have been happier at the gesture.
"Um, Dean can I talk to you for a sec?" Bobby asked throwing Sam a quick apprehensive glance.
"It's okay Bobby, I heard you guys talking." Sam chimed in and slowly pulled himself until he was sitting up, "Did you get a hold of the doctor?" Bobby was quiet, trying to mask over his features before he responded…he knew they should have been quieter.
Very smooth way to break the news, stupid idiot. Bobby reprimanded himself and then quickly shook his head to clear it, "Yeah. But his daughters just a few hours out and he's in the middle of taking care of someone. Soon as he's done he said he'd come but for now he suggested his girl substitute. Said he taught her everything he knows, that'd she'd be able to handle…whatever just fine."
"You told them?" Sam asked half confused half hurt and a little shocked.
"No, no of course not. No details, had to talk to you first." Bobby nudged him on the shoulder, "Just said we needed a little help and he was the only one I knew who qualified."
Sam nodded relieved then took a second to think, "I don't want a girl comin' here. I can wait for the guy." Bobby and Dean shared a look before returning back to Sam.
"Sam…" Dean hesitated not wanted to piss him off any further, "That's irrational man, something could be seriously wrong-"
"Like I could be pregnant?" Sam spit surprising both Bobby and Dean into silence, "Yeah, you're right Dean something could be seriously fucking wrong." He yelled crossing his arms over his chest as he turned to look away, "But I don't want anyone knowing who doesn't absolutely have to."
And that was that. They'd wait for the guy and forget the girl because Sam wanted it, and right now they'd do just about anything to make Sam happy knowing what he could possibly have to face in the very near future.
Everyone was quiet for a few minutes taking in the reality of their truly unreal situation, because Sam and pregnant were two words not one of them ever anticipated hearing in the same sentence, but there it was. Sam had just thrown it out there, done with beating around the bush, ignoring the elephant, whatever.
Because it could very well be true.
