Thank you to everyone who is still with me... and for all your reviews, follows and favourites. You rock!

On with the story...

++++++++++++++++++++++++++SPNSPNSPN+++++++++++++++++++++++++

"Sam Freaking Winchester," Brady huffed unceremoniously.

The blond student caught a giant box of diapers from the armchair and plunked it onto the floor beside the sofa. He'd just descended from the step ladder, where he had unpinned the huge 'Baby Shower' banner that had run along the wall over the fireplace. Brady, Nick, Dean and Castiel were the dream team dealing with the clean up. Sam itched to be able to help, but once he had admitted to Nick that his headache was back, he'd been relegated to the bench, aka his throne-like (according to Dean) sofa in the middle of the family room. The ache was like a band tightening inside his forehead, persistent and annoying, but not approaching migraine pain levels. He supposed he could have ducked out of the shower for a rest earlier, but he hadn't wanted to vanish on his guests. Entertaining his friends had taken its toll, and he was wrecked, but satisfied after a wonderful day of friendship and receiving best wishes for Lola's safe entry into the world.

Looking at Brady slouching in the seat, Sam grinned at the dramatic posture. Anyone would think Brady had run a marathon.

"Tyson Fricking Brady," Sam flung out his arm to catch Brady's bicep in a teasing whack. Then he leaned back into the cushions. As the guests had taken their leave, he had opened the buttons on his plaid pregnancy shirt revealing his plain white tee. He had kicked off his shoes too. He wriggled his toes where they were poked in between the seat cushions and arm of the couch.

Brady ran a hand through his floppy hair, laughed and stretched his legs out to use the top of the diaper box as a footstool. "Man, I am beat. Whose idea was it that I serve drinks for the Baby Shower To End All Baby Showers?"

"Yours, I believe," Nick said dryly from his corner bar shelves, where he was attempting to return his bottles of liquor to their previous glory. "Two broken crystal glasses and I don't you how you've jammed the screw top on the cocktail shaker."

"Sorry Lucifer." Brady said with a nervous titter.

"Awh Nick, play nice," Sam twisted his head round to make sure that his partner wasn't truly angry, "Brady's helped all day and he brought us the cute Beauty And The Beast fleecy blanket."

Nick muttered something about that choice of Disney movie having better not be a comment on their relationship. He cuffed the back of Brady's head in jest, then bent over the back of the sofa to kiss Sam's offered cheek.

Straightening up, Nick rubbed his chin, "I thought Dean was staying to help the clear up? How long exactly has your brother been showing Castiel the nursery?"

"Ugh," Sam protested, "Just coz you're grouchy after having the house filled with visitors doesn't mean you can tarnish showing someone Lola's nursery as smut."

"Once they're gone I'll show you the nursery." Nick laughed raucously at his own joke.

To Sam's mild chagrin Brady laughed too.

Dean returned, oblivious to their talk and with suspiciously swollen bitten-on lips. Castiel's hair was tossed as if Dean had tried to style it as a haystack. Seeing Castiel's hand gripped tightly in Dean's encouraged Sam to join in the mirth. It gave him joy to notice little touches in his brother's mended relationship.

"What's up?" Dean asked, which only made the laughter increase in volume.

"Were you in the nursery all that time?" Nick flicked his tongue playfully, suggesting the activities they all suspected had occurred.

Dean shifted from one leg to the other, "Well, yeah, I wanted to show Cas where we are putting the stencils, and we stacked up the gifts we carried to the room." He shrugged under their gazes, "Mighta gone to the guestroom to chill out for a few minutes."

"Praise be to the heavenly choir," Nick sniggered, "You've dodged Sam's wrath."

Dean scrunched his brow. "Huh Sammy?"

"Oh ignore him," Sam waved his hand dismissively towards Nick, "He's in a weird mood and wanted me to think you were getting a blow job in the nursery or something."

Dean gaped, "We wouldn't."

One corner of Castiel's lips twitched upwards, "Not in the nursery, Sam, Nick."

There was the cracking noise of Brady slapping his own thigh with his hand, "You guys, I don't even know."

"Well I don't know what you are all laughing at," Dean squared his shoulders with mock bravado, "But my Cas is a pillar of virtue."

Unfortunately that declaration was ruined when the pillar of virtue smacked him on the butt, with a huge toothy smile and responded, "Meh, not so much."

Sam leaned back into the seat, truly enjoying seeing Castiel and Dean back to their adorable partnership with no more of the lingering tension that had initially been apparent. In the three weeks since Aaron's visit, Sam could see that Dean and Cas had begun to re-find their feet and their trust in each other. The first time they'd come to Moss Beach together after Dean had bravely talked things out, they both were clearly making an effort to be considerate and conscious of each other's presence and feelings. Now all that seemed to be coming naturally again. Sam had woken in the night more than once caught in a fear that Dean would let Cas slip through his fingers. It was a massive relief that those worries were unfounded.

"Penny for them?" Nick said low into his ear.

"Just Dean and Cas," Sam whispered back, lifting his hand over his shoulder for Nick to give a quick squeeze.

"OK, Demonic Minion Brady," Nick announced with a quirky grin, "Give me a few minutes to parcel up some leftovers for your housemates, and I'll run you back to Palo Alto."

"By all means your satanic majesty," Brady ribbed back. "You want help in the kitchen?"

Nick shook his head.

"We can drop Brady before we head home." Dean offered.

"Thanks, but I want a sneaky glance in at The Gates," Nick replied from the doorway, "I won't be long Sam."

"Is it always jovial like that at the restaurant?" Castiel asked, picking up the last couple of lonely roasted peanuts from a bowl on the side table.

"Naw," Brady answered slouching more comfortably into the chair, "'s too busy. 'cept for Meg."

He glanced at Sam and then in unison, but without the volume for fear of startling Nick at the other end of the house, they did a whining impression of Meg's normally roared, "Luuuucccciffferrrrr."

"Poor Meg," Castiel scolded, "after she gave you all those baby wipes."

Sam managed to look partially shamefaced while simultaneously grinning with Brady.

Brady leaned forward, "Before I go, you're looking great Man. I mean we didn't get a chance to talk much in the melee."

"You mean Jess and company's bump watch."

"That's a good name for it." Brady laughed, "Don't forget Meg's protective hissing when your neighbor tried to bring her dog to the shower."

Dean did his own version of hissing at the memory of the yapping Pomeranian. "It snapped at my ankles."

"Poor baby," Castiel smirked and rubbed Dean's hand. Dean leaned into Castiel's side.

"Poor Ava." Sam winced. He raised a brow at Castiel for indulging Dean. "So Brady, what is it like being a Junior?"

"Manic, Man. They are loading us up with assignments, like you wouldn't believe, and the pre-law reading list, sheez, I'm almost wishing I was back in Dad's law firm."

"That bad, huh?" Sam tried to suppress a grin.

"And it's not the same without you."

"Sap." Sam teased.

"Honestly, Sam." Brady's smile dropped. "I miss your sorry ass."

"I'll be back." Sam promised.

"Yeah," Brady said with melancholy, "But it won't be the same."

"No it won't." Sam intoned seriously.

It wouldn't. Brady was right. He'd go back to Stanford, but he'd have his daughter waiting for him at home. There'd be much less comedy nights, lacrosse team celebrations, and late night library sessions. Also he'd be almost a year behind his best friends. He covered the top of his bump with his hand, knowing he didn't regret any of that for a moment. No way would he trade away his life with Nick and the arrival of their little girl. Lola was quiet at the moment. She'd kicked for America under the excited hands of Jess, Sarah and Ruby earlier. Sam silently thanked her for giving her Papa a rest.

Looking back at Brady, Sam offered. "You know you can always call me if you want to moan. I'm confined to bed but I have full phone access."

"I don't moan." Brady said with indignation.

Sam threw back his head and laughed so hard a tear leaked from his eye, "Seriously, Man. You do me good. You'll have to come over more often."

"Brady?" Nick called. He'd changed into his dark suit and black shirt.

Sam narrowed his eyes, "You seriously only going into the restaurant for a glance?"

"Uh-huh, my love, a pit stop. There weren't many reservations for a Sunday, but with Brady, Meg and Fergus having been here, I want to show my face."

Sam nodded with understanding. Brady clapped his back in farewell and Nick pecked his cheek.

"So Samantha," Dean said when they were gone, "Who gave you the grotesque piñata?"

Sam snorted, "Andy, and that awful puce blanket was sent from Max. Both destined for the crawl space I think."

"You should burn them." Dean suggested. "And that weird mobile Balthazar gave you."

"Hey," Castiel poked Dean in the ribs and glared at him.

Sam grinned at their exchange. "I know the astrology symbols might not be cutesy but it's actually quite attractive. And I don't think it's a mobile. They are wind-chimes."

"Jesus, Sam. Wind-chimes? That freaking worse." Dean protested.

"Balthazar was very charming and he promised to do a special newborn chart for Lola if I can give him her exact time of birth."

"You're not getting lured in by my cousin's new age spiel, are you Sam?" Castiel's brow furled.

"Naw," Sam huffed lightly, "Don't worry, guys, I'm still rational and relatively sane."

"You know," Dean grinned gleefully, "You got a fuckton of gifts."

Sam looked to where a pile of presents were displayed on the coffee table. He had been wowed by how kind and generous everyone had been.

"I know. And I mean, we didn't register a shower list or anything, because…" Sam shrugged his shoulder, "like we had stuff got already, but everyone… Geez Dee, all those diapers and soft towels, and the colorful play mats, the little cardigans and hats…"

"You could open a baby store." Dean teased, "Sam's Baby Emporium?"

Sam pursed his lips and rolled his eyes. "Really?"

Dean clutched at his chest, "Help! The force of Bitch-face number eleven."

"I'll Jedi power-up a number one if you're not careful, Bitch." Sam teased.

"You wouldn't dare, Jerk." Dean smirked.

"Number one?" Castiel asked, bemused at the brothers' antics.

"Number one, as in, Dean is being a giant ass. All other expressions are derivatives." Sam interpreted.

"You're a derivative." Dean pouted with a snort.

"Hopeless." Sam exclaimed and rolled his eyes at the lame comeback.

"It was very nice to meet all your friends." Castiel tactfully changed the subject before the fraternal verbal jousting ratcheted up to physical hand slapping.

"It was cool to have them all here," Sam smiled at his memories of the day, "Between Jess, Madison, Sarah, Andy and all from Stanford. The guys from The Gates. Our neighbors… Those cookies Jess baked were divine. Guys, do you think we'll need all those baby socks?"

Dean answered, "You'll be surprised. All the diapers and clothes and stuff. People were clever too, they've given all different baby sizes."

"I think this might be my favorite gift." Sam pulled his prize out from where he had wedged it between his leg and the sofa back. It was a small, oh-so-soft, comforter with a plush little polar bear cub head topping it off. He'd been brushing the blankie part whenever he'd needed a speck of blood pressure reduction during the day.

"Who gave you that?" Castiel asked.

"It was in with the gift bag from Crowley, along with the pots of diaper rash cream and binkies." Sam said stroking the polar bear part.

"Lola'll be lucky to pry her Papa's hands away from that one." Dean commented.

Sam reached over and fake punched Dean with the toy.

"Oy!" Dean protested with a grin, "See how I'm unappreciated. I'm going to collect our leftover pie from the pantry to make sure we don't forget it."

"I don't understand how a whole cherry pie is a leftover." Castiel shook his head at Dean's retreating back.

"That's Dean Logic." Sam surmised succulently. He turned his attention on Castiel. "You know, Cas, I never get a word with you on our own."

Castiel tilted his head and squinted his eyes, "Do you want to talk about Dean?"

Sam didn't deny it. However his query was; "How are you?"

"I am fine, Sam, thank you for asking." Castiel's head remained at an angle as if he was trying to figure Sam out.

"I mean," Sam paused, "How are you and Dean now? From your point of view?"

Castiel took a moment. He nodded slowly. "We are bruised, but good. And bruises fade, Sam."

Sam got it. He lifted the corners of his lips in an appreciative smile.

"You know," Castiel dropped his voice, "He never told Victor."

"Huh?" Sam's eyes widened.

"Dean didn't tell Victor about Aaron until afterwards."

Sam gave a nasal huff and a slight headshake, "He is so…."

"Frustrating?" Castiel supplied.

"Yeah," Sam agreed, matching Castiel's tender tone and tagging on a breathy chuckle.

"But we love him." Castiel continued with an intense meeting of Sam's eyes.

"Yes we do." Sam affirmed.

"We do what now?" Dean asked as he reappeared, cradling the aluminum foil wrapped pie.

Sam felt better having exchanged those few words with his brother's partner. Castiel was whispering in Dean's ear. Sam let his worries about them ease back another notch, knowing Dean and Cas were on the way back to a good place. He had enough concerns about his own health and helping Lola get as close to full term as possible.

Before Sam knew it, Nick was back. Dean and Castiel hit the road for Bodega. They both had work in the morning. If the baby shower had been on Saturday they would have stayed over, but Sunday had been the better day to hold the afternoon party, meaning more friends could make it. Nick saw them off at the door, with Dean promising to return during the week to paint the stencils.

Sam twisted round on the seat, to try to get a snug position. He tucked in his knees and stuck a cushion under his bump.

Nick asked "You OK?"

Sam rolled his shoulder with a wince, "Trapped wind, I think."

"Let me." Nick came behind him and massaged into Sam's muscle.

Sam closed his eyes. It felt really good. Knuckles dug in, easing out the bunched muscle. Nick got him to rotate his arm before kneading in with the heel of his palm.

"Good?"

Sam nodded. It had eased out. He gave a relieving belch.

His sheepish smile met Nick's amused one. "Thanks, my love."

Nick came round the seat and crouched down to take Sam in his arms. Leaning into the hug, Sam let any hanging tension drain away. He pushed his hands up under Nick's suit jacket to feel the heat of his skin through the cotton of his shirt.

With a kiss pressed to Nick's jaw, Sam murmured, "I miss sex but snuggling is a good substitute."

Nick hummed into his hair, "My sweetheart, I must concur." He pulled back, "Now, Sam, my love, are you hungry?"

"You know what I'd love now?" Sam looked off to the middle distance.

"Leftover savory pies and sandwiches?" Nick grinned as he stood up.

"Nah," Sam licked the inside of his lip, "Gianni's parmesan crackers, girasoli, and deep fried polenta fries."

Nick leaned back on the balls of his feet with arms folded. "I could have made those for you if we had the ingredients, or got Baldur to whip them up."

Sam wrinkled his nose, "It's not the same as from Gianni's"

"Huh," Nick turned out his bottom lip and narrowed his eyes, "Gianni's in The Castro..."

Sam gave him a quizzical look.

"…That doesn't do takeout." Nick added, "I'll call ahead."

"Wait." Sam protested, "I didn't mean… I was talking hypothetically."

"I'll be back in an hour." Nick promised. "Will you be OK? Do you want to move to the bedroom before I go? Are you tired after everyone?"

Sam laughed partially in disbelief that Nick was actually going into San Francisco. "I'm good, not too wrecked. Pass me the remote and I won't move from here. If you want to detour back to The Gates I'll be fine too. After all Lucifer needs to rule Hell."

Nick grabbed his car keys while chuckling. "They were fine a while ago. Baldur's ruling from the kitchen in Crowley's absence. And Lucifer would much prefer to make sure his soul mate is safe and well."

"This soul mate will be fine." Sam quipped.

He wasn't annoyed by Nick double checking on how he was feeling. Sometimes being on bed rest and Nick going into hovering mode could be claustrophobic, but Sam tried to beat down any snarky moodiness. Nick didn't deserve that, and he was trying to do his best to take care of Sam and Lola.

He tacked on a few more words, "Listen my sweet devil, I know. I get it. I'm good but hungry. Drive safely."

Nick hummed, "Your wish is my command, your highness."

"Good answer. I won't change the locks while you are gone." Sam retorted at his partner's retreating back.

Sam channel surfed and might have drowsed off for a few minutes. Nick returned saying the food was with Gianni's compliments and that the chef expected there to be a family outing to his restaurant when Lola was ready for her first adventures. Not only did the cartons contain Sam's requests but also a portion of that night's special for Nick and a tiny tray of green and black marinated olives wrapped in slivers of parma ham.

Any tiny fleck of guilt at making Nick go on the food quest was quelled when they shared Gianni's sublime food. Sam thought it might have been even more delicious than their dates at La Cucina Dolce. Every bite melted in Sam's mouth, tastes exchanged by deep kisses and lingering in softly nipped lips.

"We'll be alright won't we Nick?" Sam checked as he popped a green olive into his partner's open mouth.

Nick smiled around the salty offering. He pecked Sam's lips and breathed into the air between them, "Always. Together."

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++SPNSPNSPN+++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The following Thursday afternoon, Dean appeared with small pots of tester paints in pastel shades and the stencil sheets he had made with his friend Alfie's assistance. It was a non-Victor Thursday. Dean had plenty of time to work on his project. Benny needed him the following day, so he was hoping to get the room finished.

Sam was pathetically happy to see him. He'd had an awful day at the hospital on the Wednesday. He had gone in with some concern about his persistent low-grade headache, but ready to celebrate getting to 33 weeks. However, the protein in his urine was up. His ankles were swollen. When Anna got his three hour averaged BP read, it was creeping up too. She'd considered admitting him, but with Sam's faithful promise to follow her orders, he was sent home on strict bed rest. She told him that he should bring his staying-in hospital bags with him to each appointment from then on, and if his BP didn't stabilize by Monday, she was going to give him steroid injections for Lola's lungs in preparation of an early delivery.

Confined to bed, with his worries for company, and the toilet his only journey, to Sam it was like a holiday having Dean in the house. Sam didn't even care that Dean had fussed around him when he arrived, checking if he wanted him to cook, or clean, or get a movie for him. Sam had finally got him to breathe and calm down by insisting he was fine. He'd turned his face to the bright side of things for Dean's benefit, insisting they should be breaking out the confetti to mark getting to 33 weeks and counting. Saying it out loud made that truth sink in. Maybe there was something to those positive affirmation books that Balthazar peddled.

Over cold sodas, Sam approved the teddy bear shape and the daisy head to go in an alternate pattern around the window and spreading out along the wall. Dean was going to do a few freestyle flowers and stars too.

Sam opened the latest edition of American Anthropologist. Dean occasionally shouted updates of how the rainbow mural was developing on the far nursery wall, and the benefits of using a sponge for his first application of the stencils. Dean's deep brown thrift store painting tee was splattered in pinks and rainbow flecks when he arrived bearing the butler's tray. Sam craned his neck to see steaming mugs. He pushed aside his paperwork.

"Decaf coffees and some of The Bluebell Café's famous giant pecan choc-chip cookies." Dean announced with aplomb.

"Dude, why didn't you tell me you brought cookies?" Sam reached to help settle the tray on his bed-table.

Dean pulled a chair close to the side of the bed. He answered Sam's question with big brother smugness, "Cos I wanted to make a start on the painting and I know your hormones are demanding instant gratification."

"You've been watching Oprah again," Sam chuckled.

"You only know that because you musta seen it on Tuesday too." Dean retorted.

"Caught red-handed." Sam rolled his eyes, "I mean, what kind of excuse is 'instant gratification' anyway."

"I dunno." Dean hummed around his treat, "A tasty one?"

"Tastes are important." Sam agreed feeling a spot of melting chocolate at the corner of his lips.

"I still can't believe you got Nick to drive into the city to get you a pasta dish." Dean wiggled his brows.

"He volunteered," Sam shrugged coyly.

"He is so whipped." Dean chortled.

"Hey Dean," Sam said after a joint pause to drink and eat. "I'm happy things are good with you and Cas."

Dean put down his mug. He chewed on his lip for a moment. "Yeah. They are. Real good, and I think we're both a bit more aware of each other's history, and I dunno, our reactions, a bit more freaking careful, and that's…" Dean huffed, "Y'know before it was like we were in the middle of a beautiful guitar riff. Like we could soar up with the musical interlude and then belt out the chorus together. And we still can but we're counting out the beats now."

Sam nodded. "You saying things are still awkward?"

"No. Not awkward, but…" Dean paused as if he was searching for a way to explain it, "Like I know you like salad crap, even when you were a tween-age shit. What twelve year old wants to eat greens? Anyway, sidetracked… I used to throw a load of leaves in a bowl for ya and you'd enjoy it and I'd love seeing you enjoy it. But now it's kinda like if I felt I should check if you'd like arugula or iceberg lettuce, and you'd need to tell me how much you're loving it, but you still enjoy it and I still love seeing you enjoy it. Do you get it?"

"I get it. Are you worried about it?" Sam twisted his lips at Dean's meandering ramble.

"Naw. It's cool. We're cool. Give us a bit of time. We're solid."

"Good." Sam said with meaning. "And how's the job? You do any office work this week?"

"What is this? Twenty questions?" Dean ribbed Sam with a grin. "I don't do much clerical crap. But I bought the man a diary." Dean laughed, "Benny's crazy. He's paying me to make sure things are organized, fix his bike, help him move logs for photograph composition, and run into Bodega to buy shrimp for his gumbo."

"He must think it's worth it." Sam commented.

"I think he was getting lonely in that big rambling house," Dean mused. "He's a decent boss too. He filled out that bible sized stack of forms I brought him from social services, so I could keep my welfare on the sliding scale, and he's cool about having Thursdays off."

"That's great."

"Benny doesn't have a big ass car collection like some of those super-rich sonvabitches who used to hire Dad for tune ups, y'know, but he has a few treasures. I get to spend a while in the garage." Dean quirked his lips, eyes bright. "Benny brought me lunch both days this week. We ate sandwiches over his T-bird engine, and hot dogs on the back porch."

"Are you sure it's a job?"

Dean laughed, "It is, all tax compliant and crap. And I mean, I'm confirming his bookings, sourcing props for him, and making reservations too. And a shit load of that is over the phone, but it's cool, coz Benny's not watching me like a hawk. As long as it's sorted, he's easy."

"You think he needs a second PA?" Sam joked, joy-filled at Dean's enthusiasm.

Dean shook his head, "My gig, Sammy. Hands off."

He stood up and took Sam's empty plate and mug. "Once I've the final color on the stencils, I'll head. You want anything before Nick comes home?"

Sam couldn't think of anything. He put aside the journal and picked up his yellow papered legal pad. He flicked it open and prepared to jot down notes, not on his anthropology research this time but from the chapter on breastfeeding in his treasured copy of "First Time Carrier Dad and Baby". As he read he admitted to himself that he found the strains of Led Zeppelin coming from the nursery quite soothing. After a while he put his reading material to the side and lay back into the pillows.

The front door slammed. Footsteps taking the stairs two at time, jerked Sam back to full awareness. Sam heaved a sigh. He had just got comfortable.

"Sam?" Nick called, "Sam, darling?"

"In here," Sam couldn't help sounding slightly peevish. Where else did Nick expect him to be?

Nick burst into the room. He had loosened his tie and opened the top button of his blue pinstripe shirt. Sam raised his brows.

Dean followed in, looking around for the emergency.

"I got a call." Nick sucked in a breath. "Your Father has been arrested."

"What?" Sam pulled himself upright, tossing aside his papers. "You mean to get extradited? Why didn't the cops call here with the news?"

Nick shook his head.

Dean had pushed back against the wall by the door with his arms folded across his chest. He was barely breathing, staring at Nick, waiting for him to continue.

"Not the cops." Nick added, "Cain called me. They've been keeping tabs on him."

"You've had someone shadowing John?" Sam gaped.

"No, no, not like that," Nick shook his head, "Cain got an alert put out with our, I mean ADL's, contacts in Minnesota. He was arrested yesterday."

"For what?" Dean took a deep breath.

"Spousal abuse. Felony, Cain said."

"But that makes no sense. Is there another John Winchester?" Sam's gaze darted from Nick to Dean, who looked as confused as he felt.

"It was him. Cottonwood County Sherriff's deputies took him into custody at his home in Windom last night." Nick paused.

Sam shot a look at Dean who had taken a step closer to the bed. Sam could feel a tremble under his skin at the news. He couldn't imagine what Dean might be experiencing.

"Cain's source says the extradition warrant proves he is a flight risk, so he's unlikely to get bail. Minnesota will charge him, and if he's convicted, he'll have to serve his sentence before any extradition."

"So he can't just turn up here again?" Dean asked pointedly.

"No Dean." Nick said firmly. "They got him."

Dean and Sam shared a look of pure relief. It wasn't a nice feeling to be glad your Dad was facing a jail term, but Sam thought a heavy weight had been lifted from his chest.

"What about the person he assaulted? Did he have a girlfriend? Is she going to be OK?" Sam asked.

Nick made grimace. "His wife, Kate. I understand her injuries aren't life threatening."

"His what?" Dean choked out.

Sam couldn't speak or think beyond the buzzing noise in his brain.

"His wife. I don't know any more details, but she is pressing charges."

"Good." Dean spat.

Sam took a couple of deep breaths. The vein was pulsing in his temple. He couldn't believe it. He wouldn't believe it until they heard that John was convicted. Sam knew only too well how his father could blow out of a state as soon as he was released, or turn on the charm to convince others of his innocence. Although if this poor woman, Kate, had been seriously assaulted, perhaps there was no escape this time. Keeping her existence a secret was typical John Winchester behavior. The thought crossed Sam's mind that perhaps John was ashamed to admit he had carrier sons. He decided it didn't matter. He didn't care about his father's motivations. He did hope that this woman, his step-mother who he'd never met, would recover from her injuries. John had kept this life separate from his sons, but that was okay too, because Dean and Sam had forged new and better lives for themselves.

"Sam? You alright, my love?" Nick sat sideways on Sam's side of their bed.

"Where's Dean gone?" Sam looked around. He'd been lost in his thoughts.

"School's out. He's calling Castiel with the news."

Sam grunted his understanding. "Does it make me a bad person that I'm happy about this?"

Nick pushed Sam's hair back behind his ear, trailing his hand down to rest it on his shoulder. "No Sam. Not at all. It makes you human. It makes you a good parent." Nick smiled sadly, "I love you."

"And I you," Sam swallowed around a lump in his throat, soothed by the shared sentiment.

"He can't hurt you now. And I swear he never will." Nick ground out the last words with such assertion that Sam believed them with every ounce of his being.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++SPNSPNSPN++++++++++++++++++++++

Sam massaged his temple. He'd turned off his music and the laptop. From the kitchen below sounds drifted of Nick clearing up after their early evening meal. They'd shared a selection of Baldur's party treats on a tray in the bedroom. It was Halloween. The crazy fancy dress Gates of Hell Annual Samhain Bash would be in full swing later. Nick was home for the gap between lunch and dinner services. It was a shame that Nick was going to close and lock the gate across their driveway when he left. There was no way Sam would be able to answer the door and give candy to trick-or-treaters. He thought that next year, he'd make up for it by finding a costume for their baby girl and decorating the entryway to their home, so that local children would see they'd be welcome to call.

It hadn't been a great day. Sam had been achy and uncomfortable, shifting between the sheets and unable to concentrate on his anthropology texts or the plot of the thriller Ava had loaned to him.

It wasn't in Sam's nature to moan or harp on about his problems, no matter how many jokes Dean made in his direction about click flicks and feelings. Wondering if Dean had filled their grandparents in on the previous day's news about John, and wanting a sympathetic ear, Sam picked up the cordless landline and dialed Kansas.

"Hello?"

"Hi Pawpaw. How is Eudora?" Simply hearing his grandfather's voice poured balm on Sam's queasy equilibrium.

"Samuel! Can you finish the wash up? It's Sam." Pawpaw's distant voice faded momentarily. Then there was a settling sigh. "That's better. I'm in the den, so us carriers can have a private conversation. Tell me, my dear, what are your readings?"

Sam sucked in his lips, "My protein was up, and diastolic raised a touch again. But I swear Pawpaw, I am glued to the bedroom."

"I know you are, Son. It will all be worth it. How are feeling? Headaches gone?"

"Honestly, no. I'm achy." Sam shifted his hips. He lay his hand on the top of his bump. "I know she is still small, but it's like… I dunno… like there is more pressure?"

"Where?" Pawpaw asked.

"Everywhere." Sam huffed wryly. "I don't think I should have eaten pepperoni pizza. My chest, nipples…"

"Yes. It is about that time."

Sam could visualize Dean Campbell nodding sagely.

"Your bladder too?" Pawpaw asked.

Sam chuckled. "I'm thinking of calling a plumber to move the toilet closer, like next to the bed."

"I used a chamber pot."

"A what now?"

"Under the bed. Samuel proved his good husband credentials by emptying it."

"Ugh, Pawpaw. That's gross." Sam grimaced.

"You won't be so squeamish after you have dealt with sticky dark green diapers. The newborn ones. Luckily my own Poppa warned me, but I've known Moms and Pops call for medical assistance over those ones." Pawpaw laughed lightly.

"I've read the Poo chapter in my baby book." Sam confessed, thinking of green to yellow to milky diapers, without any dread at all. "But thanks for the heads up. Anyhow I'm going to make sure Nick changes his fair share."

"Only right too." Pawpaw chortled.

"Pawpaw, we got other news this week." Sam took a beat. "About John."

"Go on." Pawpaw urged.

"Nick heard through his Alighieri connections. John was arrested in Minnesota and it looks like he'll face jail. He really injured his wife. We didn't even know he was remarried." Sam held his breath.

There was a low 'Oh' sound.

Sam felt his anger rising. He exhaled and then inhaled through his nostrils, sorry that Pawpaw should be discomforted by hearing about John. How must it seem to John's father-in-law that there was a new Mrs. Winchester? Maybe Sam could have broken the information more considerately, but he hadn't thought about how it might sound to his mother's parents.

"Pawpaw? I'm sorry. Dad kept it a fucking secret from us. We didn't know." He bit down on his lip, "Damn, sorry for using the F-word. Sorry Pawpaw."

"Sam. I'm not a fragile flower. I've said plenty of Fucks, Goddamns, and Craps over the years about John Winchester. It must have been a shock to you boys."

"Yeah, yeah it was. But at least he is in custody now." Sam gritted his teeth, "And no way he'll make bail."

"I am sorry his tendency for violence has claimed another victim." Pawpaw sighed.

Sam took another deep breath in an attempt to cool his temper, "I wonder if she knows about us."

"I am sure she is about to find out. After all, the extradition warrant is for assaulting his pregnant son."

"Yeah," Sam puffed."I'm sorry for laying all my angry on you."

"It's not good to keep these things bottled up, Sam. Any time you want to talk, give me a call."

"Copy that." Sam smiled into the phone.

"Before you go. Tell me, how is Deanie?"

"Good, Pawpaw. Real good. Him and Cas are too. And his new job is working out."

"That's just dandy. I'll give him a call over the weekend. Your Granddaddy sends his love too, he has appeared here with soapy hands to remind me."

"Say hey for me," Sam replied.

"I will. And you call again soon."

"Take care, Pawpaw."

"You too, Sam."

With the call over, Sam spent a few minutes re-reading the pages of the novel he had abandoned earlier. Nick called up that he was leaving soon. Sam knew his partner would appear to say goodbye and check if he wanted anything. He sniffled and wrinkled his nose to dispel an annoying itch. He wiped with the back of his fingers, and was surprised to see a bloody smear. He had no idea that he was having a nosebleed. A single drop fell onto the bed linen. Grabbing a Kleenex, it came away blood spotted too.

"Goddamnit." Sam grumbled for his own benefit, "Shouldn't've lost my cool."

Between the ache in his belly and the unquenchable flow, he'd have to shout out for Nick. He dabbed his nose again, hoping in vain it was stopping and he wouldn't have to alarm Nick, who'd probably call Lucile Packard Hospital.

On top of all that Sam had the urge to pee, again. Stuffing a twisted tissue in his nose, Sam swung his legs out of bed.

Standing up was not a good idea. He blinked back a woozy sensation, took a couple of steps, and braced his hand against the wall.

This wasn't good. Sam clung to the door frame, white knuckling the ridged wood in an effort to regain his balance. Bypassing the wet room, Sam staggered to the top of the stairs and pressed his palms into the handrail.

"Nick? Nick?"

It was meant to be roar, but came out closer to a whimper. Fortunately Nick had the TV off and the kitchen door was ajar.

"What Darling?" Nick was there almost immediately, foot on the first step, concern darkening his features.

"I'm bleeding." Sam gave an apologetic half chuckle.

Nick gasped in horror as he kept approaching, "You are."

Sam drew his brows together and followed his partner's gaze, which did not rest on Sam's face, rather his pajama bottoms.

A bloom of red marred the cotton.

"Oh, shit." Sam expelled, before his knees gave out.

Nick dashed the final few steps and caught his falling lover, both of them landing awkwardly across the floor.

"Nick?" Sam's breath hitched as panic imploded and his heart thundered.

Arms tightened around his shoulders, "I'm here. I've got you."

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