A/U: I don't know how it happens, but I always end up finishing and reading over my stuff at around 4:30 in the morning before finally passing out. Forgive any lack of editing, because I'm impatient to a fault and can't wait to post this when I know it's done.

Enjoy!

Xx

Sam was getting worse again. Quickly, and it'd only been a couple days since they'd talked about getting Bobby's guy down here. Sam had spent pretty much the whole time bed ridden though Bobby and Dean had talked him into a bath once, to cool down and clean up, it'd been two nights ago. Now he was covered in wet and dry sweat all over again.

Bobby had been outside calling the doctor, Dean at his usual position beside Sam's bed - patting his face with cold towels, re-bandaging his wound, cleaning up the cuts on his wrists and ankles - when Sam's breath suddenly quickened, scaring Dean out of a reverie.

"Sam?" Dean asked picking up the concerning change quickly.

"Something's wrong." He whispered and that was enough for Dean. His heart jack-hammered in his chest, his skin broke out in goose bumps and his head swam in dizzying circles, but his face showed none of it.

"Okay, where's it hurt Sam?" Dean asked quickly putting on his brother-at-work-don't-fuck-with-me face to keep a straight head and hide his overwhelming fear.

"I-it- oh fuck." Sam breathed and there went Dean's heart again.

"Bobby?" Dean bellowed knowing the sound would've made it outside had the door been cracked open or not.

"What is it?" The man pushed through the already open door in a heartbeat, his phone in hand when he came to the bedside.

"I don't know, he said something's wrong." Dean explained, rushed and a little panicked now that Sam wasn't paying attention: too busy clutching the bed sheet beneath him and focusing on breathing evenly, though heavily, through his clenched teeth to notice.

"Sam, stay with me son." Bobby instructed, Sam's eyes slid open to squint, "What's wrong?"

"Stomach." He ground out, "It's like, too much…pressure. I-I don't know…how to explain it."

"Doc's on his way Sam, an hour out tops. He was already headin' over when I called him. Think you can make it?" Bobby asked, his tone making it clear that he'd be all too happy to take Sam to the hospital if he thought he couldn't.

Sam nodded shakily, "'Course." Neither were convinced.

"I'm callin' him again. I'm gonna tell him the details 'a what's been goin' on alright Sam? If that's okay with you. Think it'd be best if he came prepared."

Sam hesitated but nodded once more and Bobby returned out front with a timid nod of his own, "It's gonna be okay Sam."

"This sucks Dean." Sam said a minute later trying to smile through his obvious pain. Dean squeezed the hand he was holding in quiet reassurance, ignoring his attempt to lighten the mood.

"I'm sorry man. I'm so sorry," He whispered and put his forehead down on the back of Sam's hand. The one he held in his.

"You would so kick your ass right now if you could see yourself." Sam whispered, his voice hitching slightly as his stomach muscles twitched and cramped to their own accord.

Dean did try for a smile that time, knowing he had to humor Sam as he was putting effort into making him feel better when he was the one in pain, "I'll worry about my ass whoopin' later." He smirked, but it didn't reach his eyes as he swallowed hard watching Sam's body shake and move without Sam's control.

Dean hesitantly put a gentle hand down on his upper abdomen feeling the muscles flutter and clamp under his hand, "Shit Sammy." He said, his voice rumbling like quiet thunder, "Try and relax," He cooed, "don't fight anything just ride it out. Let whatever's trying to happen, happen. I'm sure it'll stop soon." He said keeping his warm, wide hand over the hardened muscles.

And Sam, like the champ he was, listened.

He took a deep a breath and let it out slow, relaxing his shoulders, unaware they'd been tense until now. Then he released his rigid back muscles with the next exhale.

Dean didn't move the hand touching him and he didn't speak, knowing the concentration it took to focus through pain and relax when every instinct was telling you not to.

Sam continued the pattern, focusing on uncoiling individual muscles at a time before he was finally slumped down into the mattress, his body significantly less shaky and his breaths slower and closer to even. Dean ran his hand down Sam's forearm knowing the hard part was over, "Good job Sam," he whispered so Sam could just barely hear, "I'm proud of you." He added so he couldn't.

Bobby popped his head in and Dean whipped around, putting a finger to his lips to quiet him before he could speak. He nodded and glanced at Sam who he thought might actually have a chance at sleeping if they kept quiet, so he motioned Dean outside.

-"What'd the doc say?"

-"How'd you get him down?"

They both asked each other at the same time, then chuckled sheepishly.

Dean gestured to Bobby, so he repeated his question.

"Oh, um," Dean shrugged, "Just told him not to fight it, ya know. Breathe how dad used to tell us when he was stitchin' us up or whatever. His stomach muscles were cramping I guess, but after a couple minutes he seemed better."

Bobby nodded, "Good. Good thinkin' boy." He paused looking a little apprehensive to continue, "Speakin' of your daddy Dean, I never did get the chance to offer my condolences in person. I know it was over six months ago, and this shoulda come from me a long time ago, but I'm sorry. So sorry son. I shoulda been there for you boys I know, but thinking back on how me and John left things…I just wasn't sure you'd wanna see me." Bobby admitted looking guilty as hell. It was true; they hadn't left things on the greatest terms to say the least. But John had always had a way of rubbing people the wrong way intentional or not; it was neither of theirs' faults.

"Hey, don't Bobby. You know I understood. We both did, and we're okay." Dean nodded somberly to enforce his words, "The gig's dangerous." He shrugged looking down, "We're just glad he went down fighting, takin' that yellow-eyed bastard with him. If there was any way he'd wanted to go, it'd been that." Bobby agreed wholeheartedly still looking guilt-ridden.

"Seriously Bobby, don't worry about it. We made it through just fine," He lied, "Plus, you're here now, it counts for everything." He said knowing at least that part was true. And even though the last eight months had been utter hell, Dean knew company wouldn't have made it any easier. Bobby hadn't done anything wrong as far as Dean was concerned. He gave them their space, and that was all he'd wanted.

Bobby nodded again in appreciation of the sincere words and then shook his head quickly, "Kay now that we hashed that out, we done feelin' our feelin's cause the doc'll be here any minute and I for one don't need to be cryin' on your shoulder when he comes." Dean gave a rueful smile and nodded.

"Brings me to my question," Dean started, "what'd he say when you told him? Or, ya know, what exactly did you tell him?"

"I told him everything we know, everything you told me." Bobby shrugged.

"Wait, even what they did to me?" Dean asked his brows practically hitting his hair line.

"Yeah." He answered as if that should've been obvious, "Boy there's a reason they wanted it. If there is a kid in there," Bobby pointed to the motel door, "And I'm not talking about your brother, then its half yours. You understand that right? The doc needs to know that-"

No. No he definitely did not.

"No." Dean voiced his thoughts, "We don't know anything right now Bobby, don't go spewing shit like that…I can't hear that!" He threw his hands up and faced away from his friend, silently fuming and freaking the hell out.

"Hey, hey your right son I'm sorry. But…in case…" He hesitated knowing he was treading rocky waters, "I just thought he should know. So he had all the facts. Every piece we got could help keep your brother…" His voice faltered as he realized he was about to say 'alive,' "safe." He finished instead.

Dean looked at him meaningfully, knowing exactly what his trip up had been about before he forced himself to relax and look away. Then he nodded minutely and was about to return to his brother when a Volkswagen bus pulled up next to Bobby's truck.

"Hey Bob-bay!" The man drawled as he climbed out, grumbling low in his chest and grinning like a fucking idiot with his arms out as he looked at him. It was the typical, I-haven't-seen-you-in-forever-come-here-you-ol'-pal greeting, like they were about to go celebrate with a drink and dinner – catch up on old times. And his brother was not fifteen feet away, possibly dying from God knows what some psychotic doctor did to him, waiting for his help.

So it was not a good first impression for Dean, he didn't want him near his brother pretty much at the first sight of the Volkswagen bus, but his sunglasses at seven at night and his slicked back hair and his stupid little greeting sealed the deal. How the hell did Bobby know this guy again? Definitely could not be hunting.

Bobby walked over to him though; they shared a one-armed man hug and then turned to Dean.

"Dean this is Tatum Meyer. Meyer, this here's Dean." Bobby motioned back and forth.

Dean moved only his eyes to look him up and down disapprovingly, making no attempt to hide it before he asked: "What do you know about medicine?"

The middle-aged, pompous guy had taken off his sunglasses and shoved them in a satchel he had over his shoulder. He flashed him a wide white smile, this guy could not be a doctor. They were supposed to be old and ugly and quiet. This guy seemed the opposite of all that, "I've been studying it since I was fourteen, runs in the family. I know just about everything there's to know." He answered, smile never wavering.

"So you know the situation?" Dean raised a brow, arms crossed over his chest defiantly.

"I do. Sounds like a pretty traumatizing trip you two had." He nodded sympathetically, it made Dean hate him more, "Speaking of, where is the brother?" He asked clapping his hands together in front of him.

Bobby nodded toward the door that was still slightly ajar, giving Dean a quizzical look when Meyer… Tatum…whoever turned back toward his piece of shit car. Dean looked at him with no hint of apology or explanation on his face, just annoyance. Bobby shrugged and waved him off before helping the guy move his supplies into the room. There was a big machine they hefted in together, it looked like one of those things nurses used to look at babies. Dean had seen them on TV before – right, ultrasounds. Looked like that.

Which scared the living shit out of him.

"Dean, grab the man's duffels from the back would ya?" Bobby asked without looking at Dean, making sure he knew it was a nonnegotiable request.

Dean huffed once they were almost inside and ran to grab them, uneasy about letting the guy near Sam without him around.

Dean made it inside in time to hear the end of the formal greetings. Sam looked exhausted and exasperated rubbing his eyes as he sat up and extended his hand. They shook and then the guy, Meyer, backed up noticing Dean was holding his bags.

"Oh thanks much Dean." He said with a smile and nod.

Dean raised his brow and smiled, though he knew it wasn't even close to touching his eyes.

"Alright Sam, how we feelin'?" Meyer asked taking a seat in the chair Dean had been occupying the past couple days, right up next Sam's head. Too fuckin' close for Dean.

Sam shrugged, "Fine." He answered, but both Bobby and Dean scoffed, receiving heated glares in response.

Meyer laughed nervously and the cocky persona Dean had been turned off by dwindled ever so slightly.

"Well, I mean no disrespect, but considering what I've heard about what you've gone through and what we could possibly be dealing with…I'm gonna go ahead and assume that answer was generous." Meyer said as he rolled the machine over and plugged it into the wall behind the nightstand.

Sam looked down at his hands looking…guilty. Like he'd done something wrong. Dean stepped around to the other side of the bed and sat down next to Sam shooting Meyer an incensed glower before taking Sam's hand silently.

"It's okay Sam…if you're not fine, you know." Meyer backtracked quietly, he now had rubber gloves on and a tube of something in his hands as he switched the machine on. Sam's eyes shot up and Dean could almost hear his brother's heart quickening from where he sat. "Alright are you ready?" Meyer asked, only then noticing the true fear in his patient's eyes, "This is just an ultrasound. It won't hurt a bit, we're just gonna have a look at what were dealing with." He attempted to console.

But Dean could see his brother knew exactly what they were about to do and could've cared less if it hurt or not, it was finding out the truth that scared him. Dean was right there with him.

Sam nodded anyway.

"Alright then, lift up your shirt for me." Dean watched as the brief spasm of fear struck like lightening across Sam's face, but it was quickly schooled behind a completely neutral, uncaring mask. Damn he was good at that, must've learned from him.

Meyer grabbed a tube of something and turned back to Sam before he noticed the bandage down his middle.

"Oh yes. Forgot about that. Well, we'll try and avoid it." He said happily, giving Sam a smile. He moved forward, the tube now open and hovering over his skin, "It's gonna be cold." He warned quickly before squirting a thick dollop on. It was freezing and Sam flinched at the contact, but Dean squeezed his hand and Sam's eyes opened to meet his brother's, responding to the silent encouragement.

Sam's brow wrinkled in slight desperation and despair, begging Dean to save him from this without words. It broke his already fractured heart and he couldn't help thinking once again how much Sam did not deserve this.

Dean was brought from his thoughts when a small hiss escaped Sam and Dean looked down to see the wand in the doctor's hand putting too much pressure too close to his cut.

"Watch it." Dean barked before Meyer moved away from the bandage. Meyer's eyes shot up to meet Deans for a quick moment, "Sorry Sam. Just trying to get a full picture." He paused and Sam shook his head to brush off the apology before Meyer returned his gaze to the monitor beside him, "Can I have you unbutton your pants for me Sam?" He asked without turning from the machine's picture. Dean couldn't help but notice the slight quiver in his voice as he asked, and his stomach dropped. He knew right away he'd found something.

Sam's gaze immediately flickered up to Dean's who was currently staring down the back of Meyer's head, angry. Dean knew he was probably deflecting his anger from the situation on an outsider third party, but this was already hard enough for Sam. Did he have to be asking shit like that all shaky and quiet, making it glaringly obvious he was freaked?

Dean buried his anger and turned an encouraging face to Sam, squeezing his hand again to rub his thumb across his knuckles, "It's alright." He whispered before letting go so he could follow the instructions. Sam's shaking hands slowly lowered until he could hook his thumbs in the waist band of his sweats; he took his time gradually pushing them down an inch. Meyer had turned back around to watch the two of them patiently, but he gave Sam a meaningful look before taking the sweats in his own grip and pulling them a little further. He shot one last apologetic glance his way before squeezing another dab of gel over a spans of skin a little low on Sam's stomach for anyone's comfort.

"Sorry I know it's cold," He muttered, though everyone knew that definitely wasn't the problem for the younger Winchester at this point. He just wanted this done with. Meyer angled the rounded wand so it pointing up Sam's body and continued his inspection, but Sam yelped as pressure was applied and pulled back. The doctor backed off right away.

"Tender?" He asked watching Sam closely; he just nodded, embarrassed, while Dean seethed expending no effort to hide it. Bobby thought it the appropriate time to calm the kid down before he decked the doctor from across the bed.

"Easy son, he's just tryin' to help." Bobby whispered quietly, bending so he was next to Dean's ear. And Dean visibly tried to ease his tensed muscles, if nothing but for Sammy's sake, as he nodded not bothering to look back at Bobby.

"Okay Sam," The doctor cautioned bringing the device back down to his lower stomach, "We'll get a quick picture and be done. Just try to hold still," He instructed gently as he continued running slow circles over his belly. Sam bit his bottom lip and did the best he could not to move but it was painstakingly obvious he was hurting. Dean was gripping the comforter under his hand so tight his knuckles were bright white and aching.

"How you doin' Sam?" Meyer asked quietly, once again keeping his eyes focused on the picture.

"Okay," He answered, voice trembling against his will.

"Can you try and describe the pain for me?"

"Um," He hesitated a few seconds, "It's like…a lot of pressure." He said trying hard to keep his voice even. "Like something's trying to get out of me…fuck I don't know how to explain it. Like someone's squeezing something inside me." He explained, obviously trying to make his explanation understandable. Dean felt that pride swell up in him again; Sam was handling this so much better than him. And he couldn't imagine being in his position.

"Okay, we're done." The doc said taking away and wiping off the rubbing thing to hang it up on the machine, "You did great Sam. I've got all the images we need." He smiled warmly, but it was clear he was avoiding coming out and saying what he'd found.

"Well…what are they of?" Sam asked tentatively, trying not to sound like a smart-ass.

"Don't you want me to print the pictures first, it'll be easier to understand if you can see." He offered a little shakily, avoiding eye contact as he took off his gloves. But that answer was enough, Sam gulped audibly and his face paled. He blinked twice but then shook his head.

"No, just tell me now." He said, his voice hard, "They put something in me didn't they? I can feel it." Sam shook his head already jumping to horrifying conclusions. Dean quickly scooted closer and put an arm over his shoulders taking him in.

"No, Sam. Shh, don't worry. They didn't. Doc?" Dean asked looking for a little reassurance. But all Meyer had to offer was an apologetic look.

"Sam calm down. You're healthy okay?" The doctor started and Bobby came to sit at the end corner of the bed, ready for the news they all knew was coming. "But it looks like whoever did this did add something. A new…piece." He said trying to put it into the gentlest words he could think of. Sam just scoffed and smiled through quickly watering eyes.

"Yeah a fucking uterus." He filled in for him, choosing once again to take that no-bull-shit route with his choice of words, "That damn fucking bastard found a way to give me girl's reproductive shit and make it work." He nearly yelled, fighting hard against the urge to jump off the bed and break everything in the room, "Didn't he? That's what this is from right?" He asked still kind of shouting as he pointed to the bandage on his stomach.

Meyer shrugged fumbling for words, "Probably, it'd be my only guess."

"Well...did he really make it work?" Sam asked a couple minutes later, fighting the growing tension in his throat and the gathering tears in his eyes, "Or did he just give me the parts?"

Meyer fiddled with his hands, keeping his eyes glued to their activity like it was the most interesting thing in the world. He glanced up at Sam twice, very fleetingly before down casting his eyes again. The expression he saw on the boy's face would've broken anyone's heart; he wanted nothing more than to tell him none of it was true. To stop being ridiculous because of course it was impossible. And he had only just met him.

"Normally I wouldn't be able to tell at this point, it should be too early to see with a sonogram machine." He began hesitantly, "But with the way it's positioned in you I can see everything clearer." He paused, "I'm sorry, but...I think he succeeded. From what I could see at least, I can run some more tests to make sure but..." The doctor shrugged helplessly.

And just one tear fell. Dean's arms went completely rigid and eerily still around Sam, but he didn't notice.

"And that's not…it." Meyer continued, regretting in that moment ever offering to come down here and do this for his old friend. Sam and Dean both snapped their heads over to look at him at the same time, "It looks to me that…there's more than one…egg…that's been fertilized." He explained hoping they each understood the meaning of those words. He didn't want to say it aloud. He didn't know if he could break these boys any further. They were already so dejected, liked they'd given up without even trying.

"What?" Dean nearly screamed as he shoved away from Sam and stood. Bobby quickly advanced to stand beside him, "Easy Dean. Come on now." He said quietly but Dean's gaze did not waver, it was frozen on Meyer who was still avoiding his eye contact.

"That better not mean what I think it does." He warned and the words sounded like a flawlessly delivered death threat; he was poised and more than ready to attack if Meyer even thought of confirming it.

"Okay, let's take a step outside. Hey Dean calm down," Bobby demanded more forcefully as Dean huffed deep, heavy breaths hands clenched by his sides. It took three excruciatingly long seconds for Dean to step back and practically lunge out the door slamming it behind him.

Sam hadn't moved an inch. Meyer saw the sheet-white shade of his skin and hollow look of his eyes and decided then that it might be best to make sure he wasn't going into shock.

"Hey Sam, you still with us?" Meyer questioned slowly reaching out to turn his face toward him, he didn't put up any fight. Bobby glanced at him before he nodded and then walked out the door to check on Dean.

"There's more than one?" Sam asked nearly inaudibly once the door shut. It was the only question Meyer had been hoping not to hear.

"I think so." He whispered, "There's…three, from what I can make out. I'm so sorry Sam." He offered, because what else could he say? Even if it wasn't nearly enough. He'd just told a seventeen year old boy he was having triplets. Somehow sorry didn't seem appropriate.

But then Sam's eyes went wide with fear before they rolled to the back of his head and he was out.

Dean was pacing wildly outside when Bobby appeared next to him, startling him, but he didn't stop.

"Dean, you gotta calm yourself down." He tried and stepped in front of his hustling path, but Dean just side stepped him and kept walking, "Dean." Bobby warned. But he didn't turn back or stop walking, "Come on boy your better than this." He yelled, "If you think you're freakin' out think about how Sam feels. In there," Bobby pointed to the door, "Alone." That got his attention and his steps faltered.

Slowly, he spun around, not any less angry than before, but walked back toward him.

"Yeah, that's all I can think about Bobby. Don't start questioning my priorities, I'm only worried about Sam here." He said straining to keep his tone under control, "But that's – those things…however many there are…they're Sam and…and me. Together. And that alone is so far beyond fucked up I can't even wrap my head around it." Dean huffed, breathless with panic before dropping his hands as he'd been gesturing with them and slumping in defeat.

"Yeah, about that. Did the guy not know you two were brothers?" He asked incredulously.

"No." Dean stressed, "He had our fake IDs, two different last names on them. And we were gagged from the get go, they made sure we didn't have a chance to say a word. I think they probably thought we were a…couple or something. But if I'd have known what they were doing, I would've tried harder to tell them. To make them understand, ya know." Dean explained desperately, as if Bobby not believing his words would be the end of him.

"Yeah of course I understand. This isn't your fault Dean. You understand that right?" Bobby asked, because he could tell that might not be the case.

"I'm 'sposed to protect him Bobby. And I fucked up. And now this happened, and I can't tell if this is all some fucked up nightmare I'll wake up from or a reality that's actually taken over our lives. I keep thinkin' maybe we're in a trickster's alternate reality, or maybe a Djin's playin' a prank, ya know. Because this can't be real. I mean, a pregnant boy is bad enough…but a boy impregnated by his brother…with more than one kid? That's-it's…it's just too much Bobby. Even for us...it's too much." He sniffled, his voice hitching and breaking as he slowly broke down, "I can't do this. I couldn't save him, and now he's gonna either die or have our deformed kids…and I just…fuck." He whispered thickly as he clutched the front of Bobby's shirt, his eyes wide and pleading before he let the levy brake and all the tears came out at once in horrible broken sobs.

He sunk down into Bobby's chest before his knees gave out, but Bobby caught him and lowered them both down onto the concrete walkway in front of their motel room. "Alright, son. It's alright now." He consoled, holding him tight and letting him ride out the water works till his eyes were dry and red, his face puffy and his nose completely plugged. He was a wreck. The picture of a broken man. And Bobby had never seen him so lost.

Suddenly the door opened and Dean somehow couldn't find it in himself to care that Meyer stood before them, witnessing their entangled position on the ground.

"What is it?" Bobby asked, his words short and irritated as he held the still limp Dean in his arms.

"Oh, I'm sorry." He apologized, "But its Sam. The stress, well it's not uncommon. The brain can only process so much at one time." He said dazedly, as if it'd actually explained something.

"Think you missed the punch line there." Bobby quipped, temper still high, "What happened?"

"Oh of course. Sam passed out." And Dean was up and inside before either realized he'd moved.

"Sammy." He called, taking a seat next to his unconscious brother and quickly wiping off his face. He brushed unsteady fingers over Sam's forehead, pushing bangs out of his eyes as the doctor and Bobby walked back in.

"He's stable, the rest is probably good for him now anyway. He just needs time to process, it was a lot to hear."

Dean nodded and it was quiet for a moment, "So you said more than one." He paused and his fist clenched unconsciously, "That mean…twins?" He asked through tight lips, finding it physically difficult to get the words out.

"Um, well, triplets actually." He explained as quietly as he could, as if that would keep the news a little lighter or something. Dean turned to him, his face such a striking a shade of red-purple he was actually concerned with his health for a moment. "It's-it's not typically uncommon for artificial insemination to increase chances of more than one egg fertilizing at a time, if done correctly I suppose. They must've been giving him hormone injections to increase…" And he stopped, knowing his rambling was doing very, very little to comfort the boy who'd just had his life flipped upside and down and turned inside out.

Dean calmed down minutely as the minutes passed and Meyer took his opportunity to drop one last bomb while Sam was still unconscious.

"Bobby, Dean," He addressed, "I feel we probably should keep this to ourselves, but you should both just be prepared with the knowledge that his body's not equipped to handle this at any rate. He may now have a few new parts, but he's not a woman, and there isn't room in his body for one baby, let alone…three. I just, I need to prepare you for a probably pretty strenuous few months ahead and the possibility that not all the fetuses will survive-"

"That's fine with me, it's not like we want them. They're probably all mutilated anyway." Dean interrupted and Bobby shot him a discerning look before motioning for his friend to continue,

"And that they could possibly cause harm to Sam." He finished solemnly, "We'll need to keep him bedridden for probably all of the second and third…trimesters." He swallowed hard, "I still have a few tests I want to run, like I said. And I'd like an x-ray done, but before any of that, I think we need to move. Sam can't be in a motel for the next nine months and he definitely can't be hunting. We need a stable place-"

"We'll go to my house." Bobby ordered, waiting for no reply before he began packing up his and everyone else's things. Dean took a few more minutes with Sam, just trying to understand how their life had become this unrecognizable nightmare in a mere few days, before moving to help the doc and Bobby.

They were on the road within a half hour, Sam still out as Dean carried him to their Impala. "You lead Dean," Bobby said speaking over the bed of his truck, "Pull over if anything happens with Sam, we'll follow."

And then they were off, speeding down the highway, heading to their uncertain and impossibly frightening future of the nine terrifying months that lay ahead.