Chapter 64

Sam carried Jessie up the stairs, all while Bobby and Dean yelled their protests behind him. However, they stopped short of following him the entire way. He sighed in relief as he got into their bedroom and gently placed his unconscious wife on their bed.

He brushed hairs from her face while silent tears began to roll down his face. He knew what had to be done, deep down. But he refused to believe it. He was terrified. Terrified that not only would he lose his son, but also his wife. He knew how difficult this journey could be, but he had dared to hope that it wasn't going to be as bad as it had been for him. He should have known better.

He laid down beside his wife for a short time, listening to the heartbeat of his son while his hand was on her protruding belly. He stayed this way for a short time until he was sure he could control his temper. Then he climbed off the bed gently, but not before kissing his wife on the forehead lightly.

When Sam came down the stairs, he could hear voices in the kitchen, so he headed there, taking a deep breath before crossing the thresh hold.

Both Dean and Bobby were sitting at the table. They turned in Sam's direction when he walked in, although neither seemed to want to be the first to talk.

After a very long, uncomfortable silence, Sam decided to be the one to speak first.

"I'm sorry," he said meekly.

Dean opened his mouth to speak, but Bobby held his hand up to silence him.

"What are you sorry about, Sam?"

He shrugged his shoulders in response, but remained silent.

Bobby stood up from the table, stopping beside Sam and laying a supportive hand on his shoulder.
"This is not your fault, Sam," he said as reassuringly as he could.

"That's right. It's Jessie's fault," Dean stated matter-of-factly.

Both men turned to glance at him, neither of them looked pleased.

"It's true. Even if neither of you want to believe it."

Bobby glared at him in warning, while Sam clenched his fists.

"If Jessie hadn't listened to Crowley, none of this would've happened."

Bobby noticed Sam tense up, so he tightened his grip on his shoulder. He seemed to relax after a few moments.

"I'm not going to let you blame all of this on Jessie," Sam finally replied once he was calm enough to speak. "It takes two to make a baby."

"Yeah, a baby she wasn't even going to tell you about."

Sam felt the anger bubble up inside, but he managed to keep control of himself, regardless of a very strong urge to punch his brother. He knew it wasn't worth it and it wouldn't make him feel better, at least not for more than a moment.

"Can you really blame her?" he asked ruefully. "Once she found out it was tainted by my blood, I would've been scared, too."

"Now you're making excuses for her," he said tersely.

"Seriously, Dean, I'm really sick of your attitude. Like somehow you knew something bad was going to happen and now you just really want to rub it in my face.," he yelled. "Does it make you feel better that you knew something was going on?"

Bobby had released his grip on Sam's shoulder, but didn't move from where he was in case he had to get in the middle of a fight. His first instinct was to interrupt, but he felt the two brothers needed to try and work this out without any interference.

"Why would that make me feel better, Sam?" he asked with confusion. "I didn't want her to hurt you. That's all."

"You have a funny way of showing your concern, Dean," he spat with venom. "Just admit you're happy you were right so we can get on with some decisions we need to make."

He was quiet for a moment. "I am not happy about this, Sam."

Sam glared at him silently, but said nothing. Deep down he wanted to believe his brother, but he couldn't. Being angry at his brother, blaming him for what happened, it was just easier. He didn't want to accept the blame. He knew what it would do to him if he accepted that the entire mess was his fault. Even if it wasn't. He knew what he was like. It was all or nothing. And he knew what that guilt would do to him. What it had done to him in the past.

After another awkward silence, Bobby steered Sam to the chair across the table from his brother, who sat down without any hesitation.

"Are we done now, boys?" he asked with irritation, glancing at each of them in turn. "We don't have time for this nonsense."

The brothers looked at each other for a moment before turning their attention back to Bobby.

"Look," he said as he pulled out the chair between them and sat down. "There's no time for arguing. We have a serious problem that needs to be taken care of, and now."

The brothers once again glanced at each other, but said nothing. Dean turned his attention back to Bobby, while Sam began staring at his own hands.

Bobby sighed loudly, closed his eyes, his hand going to his face. He kept his eyes closed for a few moments thinking, pondering what to say next. But the truth was, he had no idea. Not only did he not know what to say, he didn't know what to do. When he had had to lock Sam up, he thought it was the only way. In fact, he still didn't regret it for one second. But the thought of locking Jessie up in the panic room was tearing him apart on the inside. He did not think he could bear to watch her suffer as he had once watched Sam suffer. Especially when there was a baby to worry about.

"Are you okay, Bobby," Dean asked when he had been silent for a significant amount of time.

Bobby raised his head from his hand slowly, opening his eyes as he did so.

"I love the three of you," he said, trying to choke back some tears. "But you're gonna kill me."

The kitchen was silent for many minutes. Each man had their own demons they were wrestling with in their heads.

Dean, who had been worried about his brother, now felt incredibly guilty for Bobby's pain. He had never once seen him cry, always yelling to mask his pain. But seeing him cry hurt him deeply. He didn't dislike Jessie. He was just angry with her. But he realized that the way he'd gone about everything involving her did not help. In fact, it probably made Bobby feel worse. He assumed his brother would get over his transgressions, but he was unsure if Bobby would do the same. And he had no idea how he would get along without him.

Sam was also feeling guilty. He knew that none of this would be happening if he hadn't been corrupted with demon blood in the first place. It wasn't his fault that had happened, but he took the blame anyway. If he had known any of this was possible, he definitely would've been more careful. He had wanted kids at some point, but not this way. He wished he had known Jessie was pregnant sooner. He wished she hadn't listened to Crowley and he blamed himself for that. He knew he wasn't always the easiest to open up to, but he didn't think it was bad enough that his wife would choose listening to Crowley over him. Then again, he had never realized how afraid of Meg she really was. She had told him several times. But he had never really listened. Never really understood her fear. Instead dismissing it as insignificant. He could protect her. And he tried to reassure her of that. But somehow she must have never felt it. Because if she had, she would've turned to him, instead of Crowley.

Bobby was feeling disappointed. He wasn't disappointed in Jessie, or even with the boys, he was disappointed in himself. He felt that he had completely failed Jessie. He had failed in his promise to her grandfather and he felt awful about it. He wasn't sure where he went wrong, and worst of all, he had no idea what to do now. He was terrified that he was going to have to make a decision that might seriously hurt Jessie, or worse, but he really had no idea what else to do. All he knew was this was going to be painful for everyone involved.

After many minutes of reflection, Bobby sat up straighter in his chair and wiped at his eyes before glancing at the boys in turn.

"I know you don't want to hear this Sam, but for Jessie's safety and ours, we need to keep her in the panic room, at least for a short time." Sam opened his mouth to interrupt but Bobby raised his hand to cut him off. "We have no idea how strong she is. She doesn't even know how strong she is." He opened his mouth to object once again, but Bobby glared at him, which stopped him cold. "We have no idea how much demon blood she's been drinking and how often. So maybe this won't take long. All we can do is guess at this point."

There was a short, uncomfortable silence when he was finished speaking. Both boys seemed to be pondering what Bobby had said.

"Do you think I want to do this to her?" he asked no one in particular, his voice cracking slightly as he did. "I don't. But I see any other option here. If you have a better one, feel free to share."

"You're forgetting something here, Bobby," Sam said, his voice also shaking. "You aren't gonna just be detoxing Jessie, you're gonna be detoxing our son, too."

"Sam..." he replied, his voice barely more than a whisper. "What do you suggest we do then?"

He shook his head slightly. "Maybe we could wean her off of it slowly?"

"Absolutely not, Sammy," his brother replied loudly. "We're not gonna feed her anymore tainted blood."

Sam felt a twinge of regret by his brother's words.

"Dean, please listen to what I have to say before you shoot me down. I'm begging you," he asked.

He opened his mouth to protest for a moment, then closed it promptly.

"I am sure that Jessie will make it out of this fine, but what about our son? Maybe you don't care what happens to him, but I do."

"That's not fair," Dean snapped. "Of course I care. But he's got two strong parents. He'll be alright."

Sam snorted in disbelief. "Do you really believe that? Or is it wishful thinking? Because if it's the latter..."

Dean waited to see if his brother was going to elaborate further, but when he realized he wasn't going to say anything else, he spoke up.

"Of course it's the latter," he said with a shrug. "None of us know for sure. But thinking negatively isn't going to help."

Sam ran his fingers through his hair as he always did when he was frustrated and upset. He knew his brother was attempting to keep him thinking positively, but it wasn't working. He knew deep down that Jessie was strong enough to get through the detox, he knew she was stronger than he ever was. But he wasn't so sure about their son. And he was positive it would kill Jessie if something happened to him, especially if it was their fault. He didn't think he had the courage to do what needed to be done.

"I can't be a part of this decision," Sam stated quietly. "I can't be the one responsible for killing my son. Jessie would never forgive me."

"Don't you think that's a tad dramatic?" his brother asked.

Sam narrowed his eyes, glaring at him venomously. "Are you actually asking me that right now?"

Bobby, who had been completely silent while the brothers talked, knew this wasn't about to end well.

"Enough!" he yelled.

The boys backed down, but continued to stare at each other.

"Dean, I'm afraid your brother's not being dramatic," he said with a long sigh. "We have to treat this as if it's a drug, and it is. I've, uh, been looking up what happens to babies whose mothers had been doing drugs while pregnant and it, uh, it isn't pretty."

"But Bobby," Dean replied. "That's drug drugs. We don't know what demon blood will do."

"Bullshit, Dean," Sam spat. "You seem to forget I know what it's like. And this baby already has demon blood running in his veins, even before Jessie started drinking it. I highly doubt it'll be much different than a baby hooked on crack."

Dean looked at his brother with shock for a moment. But as the realization of what he had said washed over him, his looked quickly turned to one of sadness and shame.

"Dean," Bobby called. "Do me a favor, will ya?" He waited until he nodded his head in agreement before going on. "Go get the nice cot from the storage room and drag it down to the panic room for me."

Sam looked as if he was about to say something, but the look Bobby shot him kept him silent

Once Dean had left the room, Bobby turned his attention towards Sam.

"Sam, I know you're terrified. I'm terrified. But there isn't much else we can do."

Sam stood up from the table and began pacing the floor.

"I, uh, I'm okay with keeping Jessie in the panic room, but... I don't think we should cut her off from the demon blood cold turkey."

Bobby released a long, weary sigh. "Do you suggest we drain blood from an innocent person, Sam? Is this something you can do... again?"

Sam had stopped his pacing and was now shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot, gazing at the floor. Bobby's words had hurt him to his core. He hated to think about the time he had been addicted to demon's blood. Still, to this day, he remembered the faces of the people he had bled for his vile habit. But, he knew without a doubt that he would do it all over again to save his wife and son. He just didn't want to admit it to anyone else. He knew what his brother and Bobby would think.

"No," he mumbled quietly in response, knowing it was a lie.

"Good. If that's settled, I'm gonna help Dean get the room ready."

Sam waited until he could hear Bobby stomping up the stairs before running out the door as quietly as he could. His destination was the shed where they had caught Jessie with the demon blood.

When he arrived at the shed, he looked around with trepidation before calling out Crowley's name. He knew he was the last person he should be asking for help, but he was desperate. He didn't even know if he would show up without a summoning ritual. But he was too desperate to think straight.

It only took a few moments before Crowley materialized in front of him, gazing at him with a sly smile.

"Moose," he greeted with a grin. "This is an unexpected turn of events."

"Can it, Crowley," he said angrily. "I'm not here for your snark."

He laughed slightly. "No, I suppose you're not. You finally found out what your wife was up to, didn't you?"

He glared at him, trying his best to keep his anger at bay. He knew it was Crowley who was at fault for this, but sadly, he was also the solution. He couldn't anger him right now if he wanted his help.

"Yes. That's why I'm here."

He cocked his head to the side slightly in interest. "And what is it you want from me exactly?"

"I, uh..."

"You, uh, what?" Crowley teased. "You want to kill me, is that it?"

"Uh, no, actually...I need your help," he stammered.

Crowley's eyebrow lifted in surprise. "You want my help?" He snorted. "That's pretty funny. Why would I help you, Moose?"

Sam clenched his hands tightly, fighting off the urge to yell. "It isn't for me, it's for Jessie."

He smirked. "And what exactly is the nature of this help you need for your wife?"

"I, uh, need you to get me demon blood," he replied hesitantly.

He gazed at him shrewdly. "And what do I get out of this if I help you?"

It was Sam's turn to gaze shrewdly. "I was under the impression you needed this. Am I wrong?"

Crowley was silent, seeming to ponder his question for several moments before speaking.

"What I need, or want, is beyond your limited understanding," he replied slyly. "However, this one time our causes are in alignment."

He snorted. "I somehow doubt that, Crowley."

"Is it really that difficult to believe that I want to assist your wife?"

"No," he replied quickly. "It's the why that makes me suspicious."

He shrugged lazily. "Why does there have to be a reason?"

"With you, there's always a reason."

He smiled. "I suppose you aren't wrong. But I suspect you're fishing for something." He watched Sam's brow furrow, chuckling in amusement. "Oh, I see. You're wondering if she's sold her soul to me, aren't you?"

Sam's gaze shifted uncomfortably, stammering as he asked. "Did she?"

He released a chuckle, grinning widely. "I really should keep that answer to myself since it's much more entertaining if you don't know. But no, no she didn't." He watched as Sam sighed in relief. "What about you, though? Would you sell your soul for her?"

He stood up tall, defiantly. "Of course not!"

"Yeah, I didn't think you were that devoted to her," he said with a malicious grin.

Sam was about to open his mouth to say something more, but Crowley cut him off.

"I'll leave blood in the shed as I did for her. Now if you don't need anything else, I have more important matters to attend to."

Before Sam could even attempt to open his mouth, Crowley disappeared with a snap of his fingers.

He stared at the now vacant spot for a few moments before sighing deeply. He was beginning to feel much more regret than he would have imagined. Crowley bringing up whether he would sell his soul for his wife hurt deeply. He loved her enough, but would never sell his soul again. Not for anyone. Not even for his brother. He was willing to go behind Bobby and Dean's backs to help his wife. But selling his soul was one step too far.

Instead of continuing to brood, he decided he better get back into the house before he was missed. He didn't need them to be suspicious of him. Not while they were already on edge.