"And you are the mother
The mother of your baby child
The one to whom you gave life...

But you are not alone in this
And you are not alone in this
As brothers, we will stand
And we'll hold your hand
Hold your hand."

- Timshel, Mumford and Sons

Half an hour later, Dean was sprawled on the floor laughing as Gunner squealed and growled and climbed all over him. It was truly astounding, the amount of toys the two of them had managed to spread across the carpet in that short time span.

Sam watched from a seat at the edge of the chaos, occasionally jumping in to help or play with his nephew. Mostly, he was content to just soak up the moment. He, for the life of him, could not recall a time when he had seen his brother even CLOSE to this level of happy, content, or open. It made his heart swell in his chest. It kept bringing tears of wonder to his eyes, despite his attempts to hold them back.

But there was something wrong with the picture.

Not the center of the attention - not Dean or Gunner. They were both ridiculously happy romping and rolling around, instantly hitting it off as if they'd each just met their best friend.

No, the problem was Frank and Fiona. It was the looks they kept sharing when they thought Sam and Dean wouldn't notice.

With practiced ease, Sam kept tabs on them in his peripheral vision. The more he observed, the more clear it became that Fiona was not well. Her skin was getting paler by the minute. Despite the genuine joyful smile on her lips, her skin now glistened with a sheen of sweat that made no sense, given the temperature and the fact that she was seated.

She was sick. Or in a great deal of pain. Or both. And whatever was going on, she was trying to keep it quiet in front of him and Dean. He noticed Frank giving her purposeful looks, likely trying to get her to tell him how she was doing. She kept shaking her head in reply, desperate to keep her attention focused solely on Dean and Gunner.

Sam swallowed hard as a growing sense of dread gripped him. He watched his brother and nephew, how happy they were together in that moment. He had the terrible feeling that it was fleeting. It always was in their world.

When Fiona abruptly stood and announced that she was going to put on a pot of coffee, Sam gave her a one-minute head start. He didn't bother offering an explanation to Dean when he stood to follow her out of the room. He figured nothing short of an emergency was going to draw his brother's attention away from baby Gunner.

Frank caught Sam's arm as he walked past. He met Sam's gaze purposefully and...pleadingly?...before nodding and motioning for him to go after her.

It didn't take Sam long to find her, thanks to the acoustics of the old masonry building. He could hear the pained sounds she was making, no matter how hard she tried to muffle them. When he turned the corner, he found her gripping the kitchen counter and struggling to stay upright. He arrived just in time to see her legs start to give out beneath her.

"Fiona!" He cried worriedly and rushed forward to steady her. "Here, sit down."

She gave little resistance, leaning against him heavily as he guided her to a chair.

"What's wrong? How are you hurt?"

She shook her head, keeping her eyes squeezed tightly shut. "Badly. But keep your voice down."

"Keep my-?" Sam stared at her in disbelief. "Fine, whatever. Just let me help you," he urged quietly.

Heat was rolling off of her in waves. He didn't need a thermometer to confirm the severity of her fever. Her skin was burning up.

"It doesn't look like there is any way to help, Sam," she admitted and motioned to her back, clueing him in to the source of the problem. She caught his gaze purposefully before she warned, "Do not touch my blood. Any of it. Do you understand?"

Sam frowned and nodded his agreement.

Satisfied that he understood, she sat forward rigidly. She hissed and winced in pain as he pushed the fabric of her shirt upward to reveal the thick gauze pads on her back. As carefully and gently as possible, Sam removed the dressings and medical tape from her skin. She watched him over her shoulder, saw the horror in his expression when he finally got a clear view of the wound.

"Jesus..." was all he could manage before he put a trembling hand over his mouth.

A pair of deep puncture wounds - each the breadth of two fingers - was set into the flesh of her back. A roadmap of blackened blood vessels and red, angry streaks of infection raced outward in all directions from the site of the wound.

"Is this...?" He tried as he met her gaze.

"A bite," she confirmed.

"You need to get to a hospital, Fiona. This is..."

"Fatal?" She prompted with a sad smile. "I know. But I can't leave. Curse, remember? Besides, we're well stocked. It's just that there isn't anything to be done for it."

Sam's worried features tensed even further and he glanced over his shoulder, obviously preparing to call out to his brother.

Fiona put her hand on his arm. "Hey. It's okay. I'm not going to die any minute. I've got about a week left, according to what we've read. The venom works slowly, but it spreads fast. That's why I warned you about my blood. This isn't a normal snake bite. It turns everything toxic."

"Why... why didn't you say anything?" Sam stammered. "Why didn't you tell Dean the minute we got here?"

Pulling her shirt down carefully to cover the bite, she sighed. "I found out I was pregnant almost 2 years ago, Sam. I've been waiting all that time to tell him about Gunner. I had no idea I'd be lucky enough to see this."

It was settling in now, the reality of the situation, and Sam suddenly felt sick. He slowly sank down into the chair beside her.

"You were trying to get Dad here for Gunner. To convince him to bring Dean after you..." He trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.

His brows drew together as his eyes welled with sympathetic tears. It felt like he'd been punched in the stomach - going from the high of learning about his nephew to the low of learning Fiona's approaching fate. He couldn't even imagine how his brother would take this.

"I didn't dare to hope that I'd get to see them meet. Or that Dean would be so thrilled. I'm just... I'm not ready to give up this moment yet. You can understand that, can't you?" She pleaded.

Sam struggled to get his brain to start working again. The hunter in him demanded action. The part of his mind that sounded eerily like his Dad was barking orders, calling out the names of texts that could offer information.

"What did it? The bite?" Sam asked.

"A chimera."

His eyes widened as he tried in vain for a moment to repeat the word. "A chi-? You were attacked by a chimera? In Nebraska? How are you even alive? Where the hell did it come from?"

"Best guess is somebody summoned it for a spell, but with our curse starting back up, it must have just made a b-line for our house." She swallowed back a sob, looking down at her hands as she said softly, "It came after Gunner, Sam. We were getting ready for bed and it was just there... right in the doorway staring at him, getting ready to attack. I couldn't outrun it. I couldn't fight it. Thank God, I managed to grab Gunner before it did. All I could think to do was get under the bed and cover him up - just shield him from it, you know? That's when it used it's tail and got me. Then Frank came in and scared it off, and we came straight here as fast as we could."

Sam shook his head and closed his eyes for a moment.

"We'll find something to help you," he declared. "There has to be a-"

Fiona gripped his hand, meeting his eyes determinedly. "You and Dean have to focus on a way to get rid of our curse, Sam. For Gunner. He's all that matters. You have to promise me that you'll find a way to help him. Please don't let him grow up in here. I don't have a lot of time left, and I don't expect any miracles for me. Gunner is alive and safe. I'd die for that any day."

Sam's eyes immediately filled with tears in response to her words. A mother's love and sacrifice... He wondered whether his Mom would have said the same about him.

"Sammy?"

Fiona and Sam startled at the sound of Dean's hoarse voice from the doorway.

Seeing the sorrow in his eyes, Sam didn't have to wonder whether Dean had been listening in.

Fiona tried to sit up straighter, to appear well despite her pain and fever, despite the poison in her blood that was killing her a little more with every beat of her heart.

"Can you...?" Dean asked his brother, but he didn't need to finish the sentence.

Sam stood and walked to the door, giving his brother's shoulder a squeeze before he left.

Dean approached slowly, his legs feeling leaded. He sank down into the chair beside her and studied her face. His nostrils flared and jaw trembled terribly. He clenched it in an attempt to stave off emotion.

"How much did you hear?" Fiona whispered, unable to look him in the eyes.

"Most of it," Dean answered. "How long?"

"Maybe a week?" She offered.

Dean's breathing quickened at that confirmation and he closed his eyes. "And you...? You never...? You never wanted me to stay away?" He asked in uncertainty, desperate to establish where he stood.

Fiona laughed at the possibility of such a thing and met his eyes, tears rushing down her cheeks suddenly as she shook her head. "God, never, Dean. Never. Not for one second. I've missed you so much," she sobbed.

That was all he needed to hear.

He pulled her into his lap, careful not to hurt her back as he wrapped her up in his arms. She buried her face against his chest and held on tight as she cried. Dean allowed himself to weep with her for a moment, for the time they'd been robbed of and all that she'd endured alone.

"I missed you, too, Fi. So bad," he assured brokenly.

He brought his lips close to hers, desperate to kiss her after so long apart, but she pulled away.

"Can't, Dean," she whimpered. "I have no idea what this venom is capable of. I can't risk it killing you, too."

"It already is," Dean choked out.

He rolled his forehead against hers, running his hands through her hair in desperation as more tears rolled down his face. Even with her right here, right under his fingertips, he still couldn't have her. She was slipping through his grasp.

"I'm gonna fix this. I swear to God. It never should have happened in the first place. I should have-"

"Should have what?" She asked with a sniffle and a weak smile. "You didn't even know. This isn't your fault, Dean."

"I can't let you die, Fi. I can't let Gunner lose his Mom," he choked back a sob at that. Struggling to hold it together, he gritted his teeth and nodded to himself in determination. "We'll find a way."

"Dean, you have to stop the curse. You have to-"

"And I'll do that, too," Dean declared fiercely. "But first, I am going to save the life of the mother of my child, the girl I happen to be in love with."

Fiona's eyes widened in surprise before her face crumpled into tears. "I'm sorry, Dean. I'm so sorry this is happening. I'm sorry I listened to your Dad. I was just so afraid that-"

"I know, sweetheart. I know," he soothed, pressing reassuring kisses to her cheeks and brow.

"I love you, Dean," she sniffled. "Please...just...promise you won't leave me again before I go?"

Dean closed his eyes tightly and gritted his teeth at that request. He nuzzled his face in her hair, pressing kisses to her temple instead of responding.

A/N: Dun, dun, duuunnnn... Well, what are you thinking and feeling right now? Did any parts in particular hit you harder than others? Can you picture everything? Tell me all about your feels *pulls up a chair* I looovvee reading them! Let me know if you want more :)

And thank you so much to all you lovely reviewers! I seriously post a lot faster when I hear from readers, so keep posting those reviews!

A/N2: The inspiration for this entire story came from me listening to 'Timshel' by Mumford and Sons shortly after watching an early S2 episode of Supernatural.

"And death is at your doorstep
And it will steal your innocence
But it will not steal your substance..."