Waiting, was torture in on itself. Waiting meant doing nothing, staring at Sammy who sometimes moved around, more often not. Waiting meant talking to one another just to fill the silence, about anything and nothing. Waiting meant that when Dean woke up, his hands rubbing at his eyes, focusing on him for a little bit, took him to the bathroom to wash up. One of them would go to the cafeteria to grab the rest of them some food.

Waiting. Was doing nothing and hoping for a miracle that they had no idea would come or not.

There had to be other options, there had to be. There were countless spells out there, countless books, supernatural beings galore. One of them had to have a way to save Sammy without damning hers or John's soul.

She tried to think, tried to remember all the monsters that were out there and what they could do. Witches were the only other possibility but there was no telling if the witch would be a good one or a bad one, sometimes they were worse than demons in what they tried to get from the people they were offering their services to.

Which meant that they were essentially, on their own. Them and Sammy, trying to hope that a newborn had the strength to make it on his own.

It felt like days, like weeks passed like this. But when she looked at John's watch it had only been hours, a day at most.

With Sammy slowly, steadily, getting worse. They had been watching the machines long enough, had watched the faces of the nurses and doctors to see every pinched look, had seen Sammy's movements get slower and slower.

They were running out of time.

"What were you planning to do?" John had whispered to her at one point. "Before Sammy was born you said you had a plan, what was it?"

"Get to Canada." Mary told him just as quietly. "No Men of Letters there except further north. No ties and nothing to bring us into hunting. Just...a normal life."

John nodded at that, holding her closer to him. "Still planning to do it?"

"I don't know." she replied honestly. "I had wanted to when I was still pregnant. But then I gave birth early and I called you and my parents and just…" she let out a deep breath. "I just want Sammy to be okay. We can deal with everything else later."

John had taken Dean back to Bobbys so that he could grab some more things for them and give Dean a bit of a chance at air and get away from everything. Mary stayed behind just to have someone be there with Sammy in case…

Just in case.

Someone slowly walked through the hallway, she glanced to see that it was a janitor and turned back to the window. He slowly moved, bringing his mop into every crevice and corner, until he reached the window and looked into it before looking at her. "Yours?" he asked.

What a stupid question, why else would she be sitting here like this?

"Yeah." she breathed out. "He's mine."

The janitor nodded, leaning against the mop as he looked into the window, Mary fought the urge to snap at him to keep moving.

"Have to say, seen a lot of babies in here," he waved his hand around the NICU. "And he really doesn't look that good. What are the doctors saying?"

"Nothing good." Mary said, tapping her fingers against her knee. She eyed him and debated to tell him to screw off and keep cleaning.

"You the praying kind?" he suddenly asked her.

Mary looked up at him in surprise, he still didn't look at her, only staring at Sammy. "Used to be, a long time ago."

"You still are." the janitor told her, certainty in his voice. "You're literally crying out with your whole soul, praying and begging for a miracle to happen that'll save your baby," he glanced at the name in front of the bed. "Sammy."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Mary asked, demanded, of him. "I'm not praying for anything, I haven't prayed in years."

"And yet, here you are." the janitor said, sitting down on the bench next to her, holding the mops handle and leaning against it slightly. "And here I am."

"Here you are." Mary repeated, raising an eyebrow as she turned to look at him completely. "What does that mean?"

"It means that your soul has been crying out for help and," he didn't look at her yet but she could see him grin. "Here I am."

"I think you should go." Mary said cooly. "Because I doubt that you can actually help me here."

"You'd be surprised what I can do once I'm here, and answered. All without the need of, say, yarrow or bones or crossroads." he continued as if he didn't say anything. She tensed up when he spoke and finally, he turned to look at her, his eyes flashing to yellow. "And once again, here I am."

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