Chapter Five

Two months later…

Dean drove down the highway with Samantha in the passenger seat. She was six months along now, and her stomach as now as big as it was going to get. Creedence Clearwater's "Unfortunate Son" was playing on the Impala's speakers. The radio began to flicker. Dean's eyes snapped down to it as the radio turned off. The engine began to sputter.

"Son of a bitch!" said Dean as he pulled over. The car died on the side of the road. "Come on! We gotta go!"

"What?" asked Samantha. "Why?"

"Get out!" said Dean. He ran around to the trunk as Samantha joined him at the back of the car. Dean opened the trunk and flipped up the weapons cash. Samantha's eyes widened as she spotted the guns and knives.

"What the hell is this?" she demanded. "What are you—"

"Samantha!" said Dean, grabbing hold of her shoulders and looking into her eyes. "Do you trust me?"

"Yes."

"Good. Stay close."

Dean grabbed his sawed-off and loaded it with rock salt. He spun around as a spirit appeared behind them. Dean raised the gun, but the spirit disappeared.

"What the hell was that?!" asked Samantha.

"Quiet!" ordered Dean. Everything was silent for a minute until Dean was flung into a tree headfirst, dropping the gun.

"Dean!" Samantha yelled. She rushed over and picked up the salt gun, pumping the action and pulling the trigger. The salt emptied into the spirit, making it disappear.

Dean jumped up. "Samantha, you okay?"

"Do I look okay, Dean?!" Samantha yelled, her face twisted in anger and annoyance. "I'm a fucking pregnant woman!"

Dean froze, shocked. "Sammy?"

"No, it's the Easter bunny," Sam retorted. "Dammit, Dean! I can't believe you did this to me!"

"What'd I do?"

"Oh, I think you know. You couldn't keep your damn hands to yourself for one night?!"

"Well, in my defense, I'm not entirely to blame here."

"That was different, and you know it! Shit!" Sam bent over suddenly, clutching his side.

Dean darted over, supporting him. "Breathe, Sammy. Calm down. You gotta keep your blood pressure down."

"Bite me," said Sam. He stood up and punched Dean across the jaw.

Dean put a hand to his jaw. "Feel better?"

Sam sighed, relaxing. "Yeah." He stalked back to the Impala and got in, slamming the door. Dean rolled his eyes and followed him.

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Sam lay in the semi-dark motel room on his side, resting after his long day. His eyes were closed and he had a hand over his large stomach. He heard the door open and assumed it was Dean, back from getting dinner. He sat quietly on the bed next to Sam. It wasn't until Sam felt a rough hand stroke his face that he realized it wasn't Dean.

Sam's eyes flew open, and he turned, raising a fist to strike the man. The man grabbed his wrist, and Sam struggled, his smaller body not strong enough to fight back. His fist was pinned to the bed above his head, so he raised his other fist. That fist was grabbed also and pinned next to the other one.

"Shh," the man whispered. Sam looked up into the face of a middle-aged man with a haggard face and dark, sunken eyes. "It's okay. I won't hurt you…much."

Sam tried to raise a leg to knee him, but the man entangled his ankles around Sam's ankles, pinning him helpless to the bed. The man brought Sam's hands together and pinned them with one hand. He used his other hand to cup one of Sam's breasts. A tear slid down Sam's cheek as the man began to move his hand further south. He leaned in to sniff Sam's neck, and Sam turned his face away, terrified.

"No!" Sam screamed as tears flowed down his face. "No!"

The motel door flew open, and the man was tackled off of him. Sam curled in on himself as much as he could on his side. He heard his savior punching the man, but he screwed his eyes shut, trying to escape everything. He felt small, weak and helpless, but most of all, he felt violated. He cried some more as the man was hauled to his feet.

"You sick son of a bitch!" a voice yelled in the motel room. Sam relaxed only slightly at the voice. Of course, Dean had come back and heard his scream. "Raping a pregnant woman?! You're damn lucky I don't shoot you where you stand!"

There was a scuffle as Dean dragged the man to the door.

"Someone take care of this bastard!" Dean yelled. Apparently, a crowd had gathered. "He tried to rape my wife!"

"We got him," some man spit out. "Get back to her."

The motel door was closed and locked, and footsteps approached the bed. Dean sat down on the bed against the headboard. Sam rolled into his arms, clutching him close. Dean wrapped his arms around Sam's shoulders, tucking Sam's head under his chin.

"It's okay, Sammy," Dean comforted. "He's gone. I'm here. Nothing's gonna get you." Sam cried into his chest, his breath hitching as sobs wracked his body. "I'm not gonna let anyone hurt you."

Sam's breathing was coming rapidly, and he was starting to feel light-headed.

Dean sensed this, and placed a hand on Sam's chest. "Sammy, breathe. Breathe." Sam focused on Dean's heartbeat next to his ear, and tried to match his breaths with Dean's. "That's it, Sammy." Sam closed his eyes as his breathing rate slowed back to normal. "You're okay."

They held each other for a moment until Dean leaned back, looking into Sam's eyes.

"Hey, how about we go get some dessert," said Dean. "I bet you're craving some chocolate pie."

Sam smiled. "Yeah, definitely."

"Come on," said Dean. He helped Sam off the bed and into his jacket. He wrapped an arm around Sam as they walked to the car.

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At the diner, Dean picked a booth in the corner so Sam felt safer.

The waitress walked over. "What can I get for you?"

"What kind of dessert do you have?" asked Dean.

"We got apple pie, chocolate pie, pumpkin pie, ice cream and a banana split. But the banana split is pretty big."

Dean looked over at Sam. "What do you say we split one of those, Sammy?" Sam nodded. Dean looked up at the woman. "One banana split with the works."

"Coming right up," said the waitress. She walked away.

Sam wrapped his arms around himself, trying to shrink into the booth.

"Hey, you okay?" asked Dean. Sam nodded. "You sure? 'Cause you haven't talked since…"

Sam blanched as he looked away from Dean. "I know. I just…being…like this…I've never felt so helpless in my life."

"Hey," said Dean, leaning forward. Sam looked up at him. "You are not weak. Okay? You're not. You're just in a situation that you've never been in before. I promise you, no matter what it takes, I'm gonna get you back."

Sam smiled as the waitress brought the banana split over with two spoons. Sam hungrily dug in as Dean joined him. Halfway through, Dean picked up the cherry and tossed it at Sam's face. With the whip cream on it, it stuck to Sam's forehead for a second. Dean laughed at him until Sam picked up his spoon and flung its contents at Dean. A scoop of vanilla ice cream struck Dean on the nose, smearing across his cheek. Sam leaned back in his seat, laughing out loud.

Damn, that sounded good, Dean thought as he wiped his face off.