Disclaimer: Supernatural belongs to Kripke Enterprises, Wonderland Sound and Vision, Warner Bros. et al. This is for fun, no copyright infringement is intended.
The ground, it turned out, was cold because he was sitting on an ice-covered sidewalk. Sam's huff of disbelief formed a small cloud in front of his face.
"What the hell?"
He hurriedly climbed to his feet, nearly sitting down a second time when his boots threatened to shoot out from under him. Hugging himself tightly to stop the violent shiver brought on by a gust of freezing wind he looked around what seemed to be a small town or suburban area. A vaguely familiar one. The startled cry of a woman derailed that thought.
Whipping around the first thing Sam's eye caught on was the Impala, sitting at the curb. Then the house it was parked in front of – a house he had only ever seen in a handful old photographs for twenty-two years before setting foot in it for the first time … though it had not been the first time he was in it. And finally the blonde woman sitting at the bottom of the two steps leading up to the small front porch.
"Oh god." The strangled whisper barely left his lips. "Oh god."
Mary Winchester tried to lever herself up, grimacing with a short, rough sound of pain and Sam had crossed the snow-dusted lawn in a few long strides before he could think about it.
"M–! I mean. Ma'am – are you all right?"
"What?" His mother looked up, startled by the tall stranger suddenly standing in front of her and nodded automatically. "Oh, yes. Yes. I just slipped on the stairs and… Damn it."
"Here, here, let me help you."
Caught between concern and elation Sam crouched to put an arm around her back, offering the other hand for her to hold on to, all the while not able to take his eyes off her for one second. Drinking in her features, the little web of laugh-lines in the corners of her mouth he didn't remember from the one time he and Dean and Castiel had traveled into the past to save their parents from the angel Anna, the curve of her neck under her longer hair … the very prominent bulge of her belly under the wide daytime sweater she was cradling protectively.
Sam's brain fairly short-circuited.
Because if Mary appeared older than in 1979, if this was her second child she carried – then this meant it was Sam who was growing there inside of her.
"Oh, thank you."
Mary grabbed his wrist and tried to stand again, nearly bringing both of them down when Sam was too stunned to brace in time. There was a brief, frantic struggle but in the end they were upright, Sam having practically lifted her to her feet. Embarrassment for nearly dropping her quickly turned to worry as Mary grunted with pain and swayed against him as soon as she brought weight on her right foot.
"What is it? You are hurt!"
His mother shook her head with a grimace.
"I think I twisted my ankle going down. Ow."
She pressed a hand against her lower back, sending Sam straight into a panic.
"I'll take you to the doctor."
"No, really, I just need to sit down for a bit. Just help me inside the house, I'll be fine."
"You are not fine!" Sam protested albeit assisting her up the steps and to the door. "You have to get checked out, especially in your – in your condition. Do you have someone to drive you to the hospital? Your husband?"
Biting her lower lip Mary stopped in the doorway and cupped her belly again, indecision clear on her face. Then her expression set as she made up her mind and she glanced at the Impala but obviously dismissed it just as fast.
"He's out of town, they are delivering a car. I will call a ride."
She gestured at the phone mounted on the wall. Sam was having none of it though.
"I'll drive you. This your car? Just let me get the keys."
"No! No, thank you, but I can't ask you to do this."
"You are not asking. I'm offering. Now let me get your coat and the keys." Sam determinedly started for the hook rail in the hall after making sure she had hold of the door-frame to support herself. "I don't mind doing this. Honestly. It –"
"Mommy?"
The timid little voice from the living room brought him to a screeching stop.
And of course – of course, if it was HIM there in his mother's belly this meant that… Suddenly hardly able to draw a full breath he slowly turned towards the young child standing beside the couch, watching them with impossibly big eyes and – and – oh god, Dean was TINY, soft-looking blond hair like a halo around a delicate little face. He must not even come up to Sam's hip, and how should he ever be able to carry a baby out of a burning house in little more than six months, should ever be able to…
"It's OK, Dean, honey, Mommy just took a little tumble on the stairs but everything will be alright. Now please get your coat and put on your boots, yes?"
Sam shook his head once, hard, at hearing Mary's voice. Could still only stare, in stunned disbelief, as the small boy nodded and dashed past him to the coat rack and the tiny blue coat hanging on a hook near the floor.
"… my son Dean. We have to take him with us, Mr …?"
Mary's voice lifted questioningly at the end and Sam realized belatedly that she was talking to him. He blinked.
"Uhm. S– Ji– Bob– I mean. Robert. Meyer." He offered a weak smile at Mary's raised brows. "Nicknames, they really mess with your head sometimes."
"Uh-huh." The brows stayed raised but his mother merely nodded past him. "The long, brown one is mine."
"Oh! Yes, sure, sure."
Giving himself a mental shake Sam grabbed the brown coat and helped her into it then picked up the keys she pointed out to him. At least she already wore a semi-sturdy pair of slip-ons although they had done little to prevent her accident. Turning back around he was once again struck almost breathless by the sight of Dean, sitting on the floor by the cupboard under the stairs and so focused on pulling on a pair of bright yellow rubber boots, the tip of his tongue poked out of the side of his mouth. Sam had to close his eyes for a moment.
They made the trip to the car without incident but once there Sam spent almost ten minutes frantically scraping ice off the windows while inside heating was turned on full blast. Even after that he STILL had to stop twice and do it again as well as clean the fogging windshield from the inside. Therefore it was no wonder that by the time they reached the hospital his nerves were considerably frayed … and it didn't exactly help when Mary steadfastly refused to have him park in the reserved area by the entrance for fear of having her car towed. Cursing under his breath Sam hustled the Impala into the first available 'legal' parking space and jogged inside to get a wheelchair and a doctor.
"Excuse me!" Two women behind the front desk looked up at his breathless approach. "I've got my– I've got Mrs Winchester in the car outside, she took a fall and can hardly walk…"
"Mary?" the nurse with the receptionist asked immediately and Sam almost sagged with relief.
"Yes. Yes, Mary Winchester."
The nurse turned competently to her colleague.
"Page Dr Welsh and see if you can get Dr Tyson down here as well."
Grabbing a wheelchair she nodded at Sam to lead the way which he was happy to do. He was even more happy to find that Mary had really waited for them and not tried to stand on her own. Little Dean had taken the opportunity to climb over the back of the front seat and was now snuggled against her side, Mary's hand stroking his hair soothingly.
"Ellie," she greeted the nurse with a rueful smile that looked forced, "I'm afraid I'm another victim of the weather. Slipped going down the front steps, of all things."
"Well, that's Kansas in March for you," the nurse – Ellie obviously – replied, "Where does it hurt?"
Mary's eyes flickered briefly to Dean. "My ankle. A little."
By now it was very obviously a lot more than just 'a little' but the nurse's gaze too went quickly to Dean before she simply nodded.
"OK. Sir, can you –?"
"Yes, of course!"
Sam jumped to assist his mother on her other side, and together they had her quickly settled in the wheelchair he then pushed back to the entrance. The nurse was still focused on Mary, asking carefully edited questions, while Dean was following like a duckling in her wake. Unnervingly silent, in Sam's opinion who was, after all, used to a much more vocal grown-up version.
A doctor – Welsh, as far as Sam was able to gather – met them at the door, asked basically the same questions as Ellie only with less tact, declared further examination was necessary and ended with "– and somebody take that boy to the waiting room, please."
"What?" Mary looked startled then concerned, "No, I –"
"Mrs Winchester, we are probably going to take X-rays and can't have him underfoot for that. And then we need to do some – ah – other examinations as well."
"I –," Mary said again then winced as she moved her foot by accident.
"I can take care of him."
The words just tumbled out of Sam's mouth.
Everyone turned to look at him; Dr Welsh with impatience, Nurse Ellie considering and obviously trying to place him anywhere in relation to the Winchesters and Mary herself visibly conflicted between wariness of leaving her son with someone who was basically a stranger and concern not so much for herself but her unborn child. Her hand was cradling her belly again protectively.
"I mean, I can sit with him in the waiting room until the nurses get us as soon as you have been checked out," Sam clarified rather awkwardly.
He considered it a testament to how much his mother was hurting when she finally nodded.
"Dean." She fabricated another smile for her son who was staring at her with huge eyes. "I need you to be a big boy for me and go sit with Mr Meyer for a little while. Can you do that? I'll be back in a few minutes. Dean?"
Still staring Dean bobbed his head a little.
"That's my boy."
And within a few seconds the small group had vanished through a set of doors, leaving Sam and Dean standing alone in the reception area.
"So, uh," Sam cleared his throat, looking down at the small form by his side, "Shall we go … sit?"