A/N: Oh man guys. To whoever's actually following this story, I'm really sorry. Truly. But I won't bore you with the details that kept this chapter from coming out sooner, because there are none really. Just laziness and lack of inspiration. Yeah I know, this early on? Sad, pathetic Kelsey. I'll work on it.
And confession…I haven't, repeat have not, read this whole thing through. Not one time. I've done my best at editing it, trying to make it sound like it wasn't written by a third grader (and I seriously hope it makes sense all the way through) but I will promise nothing.
Hope ya'll enjoy it anyway!
Chap Warn: Language, Protective!Comforting!Dean, Hurt!Sam, Mpreg
Dean had walked in to find Sam folded up on the bed, unmoving, blank stare fixed on the wall before him. The look scared him, and not much could, but to see his usually vibrant, lively little brother so hollow, that definitely sent through him a shock wave of fear. He was like an empty shell, drained of life and fight. And that just wasn't Sam.
"Sam?" He asked as he shut the door behind him. There was no response, he kept staring at the wall, hands limp in his lap, bangs dangling in his eyes.
He was going to kill the doc for asking him about that procedure. He knew it would dredge up memories Sam never wanted to face, just as he knew talking about it would solidify this nightmare into reality completely for him. Because saying the words out loud was like admitting it really happened, and he could see the defeat coursing through his brother so clear as he approached him.
"Heya Sammy," He said keeping his voice light and gentle as he climbed onto the opposite side of the bed. He was shuffling on his knees to sit next to his brother when Sam finally turned to him – acknowledged he was there and then rolled off the bed in one unreasonably graceful move so his back was toward Dean.
That way he couldn't see the big, pathetic tears welling uncontrollably in his eyes.
But trying to hide them meant nothing; Dean knew they were there. It was obvious in the rigid set of his shoulders and the deep, overly-controlled breathing filing in and out heavily through his nose.
In one swift movement Dean had pulled Sam onto the bed again, his back against his chest, resting their bodies on the headboard as he folded himself around his younger brother. "Sh, sh," He whispered amenably, "You're okay. We're okay." He finished, voice almost inaudible, muffled in Sam's dark locks.
Sam didn't resist as Dean had expected, instead he turned into his chest burrowing there, as if the closer he could get the safer he would be.
Hands twisted into fabric, wrinkling clothes under vice grips as they clutched each other, Sam drawing in the comfort he needed to steady himself, Dean acting as the anchor. Time stilled, suspended in the air as Sam drew in a deep, staggering breath. It stayed there, hanging around them like a conductors pliant hands just before a symphony begins, and then it all crashed into action again as Sam finally let go.
He cried hopelessly with a ferocity Dean didn't know he possessed, sobbing wretched, harsh and broken cries into his brother's chest, shaking them both to the core. And even though Dean had done this already, cried himself dry twice now trying to accept this, he couldn't avoid the single sparse and silent tears that slithered down his nose and into Sam's hair. Because the tortured sounds coming from the shaking body in his arms were shredding Dean. He couldn't take it, the soft hiccups, the hitching breaths, the desperate weeping sobs, the soft scrape of blunt nails as hands scrambled for purchase.
An insurmountable time passed as they stayed that way, rocking and gripping each other until Sam's eyes couldn't stay open any longer and he couldn't breathe through his stuffy nose. Eventually he drifted to an uneasy sleep.
Dean slipped out of the room and shut the door quietly behind him, dropped his face into his hands for a short second before setting out determinedly to give Meyer a piece of his fucking mind. Or fist, he'd decide when he got there.
He burst into the kitchen, the now dried tear tracks still visible on his face, as he searched for the man. But they weren't there, he ran through the dining room, living room, finally making it to the library where he found both Bobby and Meyer, sitting quietly in front of the fire place.
"What the hell's wrong with you?" He spat as soon as he spotted the doctor, calm as ever as if what he'd done hadn't just caused his brother to go into hysterics.
"Dean-"
"Sam's fucking wrecked because of what you asked him to tell you." He said pointing a finger into his chest as he spoke. Meyer took a step back, not out of fear or remorse, but to move with the force.
"Dean, calm down." He tried, "I'm sorry Sam's upset but-"
"Upset?" Dean yelled, losing his non-existent patience, "I've never seen him like that in my life, Meyer. Ever." He roared, "Why did you ask him about that?" He asked, holding none of his fury back.
"You know why." He shot back, "You were listening in on our conversation again, weren't you?"
"Yeah, you're damn fuckin' right I was," Dean snarled not at all deterred by the confrontation.
"Well, then you know why. For his own safety. The better I understand what happened, the better chance I have at keeping him healthy now." He said refusing to back down as he took in a deep breath, "And it's a damn good thing Sam told me what he did too. Now I know what I need to watch out for, and specifically what I need to check on now. Both things that, left unattended, could seriously harm him." Meyer said raising his voice to match Dean's. He did what was necessary and he wasn't going to feel bad about it, damnet.
For a moment, Dean was distracted from the heated wrangle, "Wait, what do you mean? What things are you gonna check on or watch out for?" He asked skeptically.
Meyer calmed down, following Dean's lead, "There are a few things the doctor did that I'd like to look at and make sure are healing right. I don't want anything getting infected. There's no way his body could handle it right now."
Dean's brow furrowed, "What like his stitches or...the other stuff?" He asked hesitantly, Meyer sighed.
"I'd really rather talk to your brother about this before I discuss any details with you."
"What? That's bull shit." He retorted, "I need to know what the hell's goin' on, what that bastard did to him if its gonna hurt him now-"
"Dean." A voice from behind them sounded quietly, interrupting as it turned their attention away from the conversation. Including Bobby's who had been standing on the side lines as the two quarreled, opting to let Dean get everything out of his system.
"Sam." Dean answered sparing one last heated glare toward Meyer before approaching his sleepy brother, "Damnet, should've kept it down. Sorry bro." He apologized wondering how many times he'd have to wake his brother during his fights with Meyer before he learned to keep them quiet.
He shook his head at his own stupidity as he wrapped an arm over Sam's shoulders, taking in his puffy eyes and still plugged nose as he did so.
Sam shrugged under the gentle weight of his arm and turned toward Meyer, talking to him from across the room, "Answer Dean's question. I don't care what they know." He said, his voice void of any real emotion again. Dean's grip tightened on his shoulder, not enjoying the sound or words at all. Of course he wanted to know what was going on, but he didn't want Sam to concede like this. Like giving up.
"Are you sure Sam? We can just step in the other room and discuss it if-"
"Why would we?" He asked derisively, stepping out from under Dean's arm, "Any privacy, any decency or normalcy any other human gets has been stripped for me." He spit, "I don't get the privilege of secrets or space anymore. 'Cause my body isn't mine anymore; its everyone else's to poke and prod and experiment and test on now. Nothing is mine to just keep to myself!" He shouted, gesturing wildly as his rant grew more and more frustrated. He took a few deep ragged breaths, before looking around the room as if he'd just realized he'd been yelling before turning on his heel and booking it out of there. They all listened to the jangling of keys being snatched up and the door swinging open before slamming closed.
It only took a handful of speeding heartbeats before Dean was out the door behind him. But the impala was still parked where he'd left it which meant Sam was still here, so he relaxed minutely as he sped towards it.
Sam was on his usual side in the passenger seat, head lax against the back of the bench, arms limp in his lap, eyes closed and breath quickly evening out. Sam hadn't noticed him yet, so he quietly made his way around to the driver side door and tapped gently on the window before opening it.
He peered in at Sam's bright hazel eyes from the doorway, the intensity of the gaze a little unsettling until it broke and turned down to his lap. Dean climbed in then, only just noticing Metallica drifting into the car from the speakers, filing the silence with quiet but sharp beats and harsh guitars.
Dean raised a brow, asking Sam his unvoiced question.
He just shrugged, "You always said Metallica calms you down. Thought I'd give it a try." He gave him a half-smirk and looked away again. Dean's incredulity softened and withered away at the words and the sadness he heard in them.
The music was already soft, so when Dean spoke it was just an added supple hum to the car's background noise, "Sam, what you said back there, is that really how you feel?"
Sam looked sideways at him with wide, expressionless eyes, "Yeah Dean," He answered truthfully, "Because it's true. I have to tell him everything. Everything that happens, everything that already did happen, no matter how personal or humiliating, so he can keep me alive." He sighed, "But I am sorry for how it came out. I'm not mad at any of you, Meyer included," Sam shot him a pointed look, "It's just been a shitty day and I kinda lost it. Before too, sorry about that." He said referring to the crying jag earlier this morning in their room.
Sam's face grew hot remembering, Dean didn't like the look of the embarrassed flush, it didn't belong there.
"Sam I've lost it twice now, with Bobby. Blubberin' like a fuckin' baby all cradled up in the old man's arms." He laughed ruefully, "Trust me, you've got nothing to be sorry for." He shook his head smiling over at his brother. And Sam let out an actual chuckle at the mental imagery that description provided.
Dean nearly bounced in his seat, beaming with excitement at the sound, his heart ready to squeeze out from behind his ribs and literally take flight.
How long had it been since he'd heard Sam laugh? God, however long he'd missed it.
Dean sighed contently as they relaxed into the silence, just listening to the cassette tape fill the quiet car with the soothing sounds of the music they'd grown up to.
"Hey Sam?" Dean asked, breaking the quiet once a song came to an end, "Wanna go get some lunch? Those two were trying to get me to go out for food earlier, we could do it now if ya want?" He offered hopefully. He could really use a little time away from this house, just a few minutes on the road with his baby and his brother, doing something normal.
Sam looked confused for a moment, but then agreed with a quick nod. Dean ignored Sam's perplexity not wanting to explain why they'd tried to get him to leave and instead dug in his pocket for his phone, throwing it open and up against his ear as he called Bobby. He started the car the rest of the way just as the man picked up. He quickly explained they were going out for food and was out of the lot before Bobby could even respond with his: "Well, it's about time. I'm starving," and tell them to hurry back.
Sam could visibly see the waves of tension dissipating from his brother as he sank into the familiar rumble of the impala, more than happy to be back in front of the wheel, doing something tedious and inconsequential for a change.
Sam couldn't help but smile at the sight, it was Dean again. Cocky, confident, relaxed Dean, no sign of the masked blank expression he'd been hiding under this past week of horror. None. Because now they were off to the grocery store, shopping for lunch like two entirely ordinary people would.
And they were both pretty damn happy about it.
"So what sounds good?" Dean asked once they'd parked the impala and were walking through the automatic sliding glass doors into the fairly crowded little shop. Sam suddenly felt the irrational urge to hide, like everyone would be staring because somehow they'd know.
Get a grip.
He berated himself even as his eyes danced around from person to person, looking for stalking eyes. "Uh, whatever's fine. I'm not that hungry." He mumbled trying to keep his head down as he led the way to the most deserted isle. Dean seemed to pick up on his unease fairly quickly as he sped off after him.
"Hey wait up," He said as he latched onto Sam's arm, "What's wrong, Sam."
"Does it feel like everyone's looking at us?" He asked quietly as his eyes darted around the store again.
"What?" Dean asked dubiously, voice high, brow higher, "Why would they be staring Sam? Just stop, you're being paranoid and you're freakin' me out. Hey, look at me." He demanded slapping hands on either side of his neck, "Enough." He said in that tone that always put Sam back in his place. "There's no reason anyone would be lookin', unless it's at me and my stellar good looks, so calm your shit and let's shop." Dean insisted with a barely-there but playful smile. Sam couldn't keep in the breath of laughter at his brother's rant either as he nodded, seeming to redeem some of his cool as he followed Dean's orders. He straightened up and lifting his eyes to scan the place more calmly. No one was staring.
"Mac and cheese." Dean said as he spun and headed down the aisle, forgetting the slip-up moment in their uneventful trip. "That's what I want. With some hotdogs and…" Sam let Dean talk on as he followed a few steps behind and shook out his shoulders, stretching his arms to physically shake his paranoia and enjoy the time with his brother.
Dean threw a heavy arm over Sam's shoulders as he snatched a few boxes off the shelf and continued down the alley.
"So?" Dean continued, "What do you feel like?" He asked again as they left the aisle and started through the more crowded open spaces of the store, all the while keeping his arm securely over Sam.
Sam felt the unease melt as soon as the weight of Dean's arm was over him, like a security blanket warding off any and all self-conscious fear as they made their way through the store. He was immensely grateful for it too as he did catch a few people glancing their way, if only because they hadn't seen them in town before, and immediately wanted to jump to conclusions about it. But Dean kept him properly distracted as they weaved through the shop, glued to each other as they picked out lunch.
Once at the register, they ended up with a rotisserie chicken, a salad, a bottle of soda, a package of hotdogs, and Dean's Mac and Cheese. Sam quirked a smile glancing at the Sponge Bob kid's package he'd gotten, all the noodles were shaped as characters from the cartoon show. He shook his head as they shuffled their way up the line until at the end, when they were standing before a beautiful brunette with a name tag 'Lindsey' dangling off her cropped black T showing skin all over. She was maybe twenty years old, with long dark lashes that surrounded dark almost black eyes, they noticed, as she looked them up and down appreciatively.
"Howdy boys," She greeted with a coy smirk and a southern twang. Sam blushed on instinct watching her grab the small bottle of soda first and stroke it suggestively as she wrung it up, "How are ya'll today?" She asked around a piece of gum, emphasizing her light accent. Dean chuckled watching her slip the item into the bag.
"Great." Dean said lifting his eyes to her, "And yourself?" He asked as she took the chicken and slid it over the flashing red light, eyes snapping up to Dean as the beep sounded.
"Much better now." She said around a mischievous smile. Her eyes slid to Sam then, who had been idly trying to stay out of the exchange by pretending to give his full attention to the magazines surrounding them. "And how 'bout you sugar?" The girl asked, trying to gauge Sam's attention. And she did, because he really had a hard time being rude to people in small talk conversations. He gave her a semi forced smile, not really into forward women as they always just ended up making him uncomfortable, and returned to the magazines.
So she returned to Dean who was pulling a twenty from his wallet, now eyeing her with something like resentment in his eyes. She retreated from him, looking at that hard glint in those nearly black pools and focused on ripping off the receipt and handing him his change instead of her flirtatious attempts at chatting.
Sam noticed Dean's quick flip of attitude as they strode out of the store quickly, "What's wrong with you?-" He began asking only to stop dead as he gripped Dean's arm with a harsh slap of his palm just before they got out into the street, "Oh shit." He cursed quietly, voice gruff, eyes distant and wide – scared.
"What – Sam?" He asked turning from the road to see his brother's frozen stance, "Sam?" He repeated, his voice louder, stressed.
"We gotta go Dean." He ordered waiting for no resistance or questioning before he was stomping towards the impala, bag swaying jerkily in his stiff hand. Dean was after him in a second.
Sam felt another shift in his stomach followed by an uncomfortable pull and knew he wouldn't be on his feet much longer.
But then Dean had his elbow clutched in a strong fist, helping him to the car like some elderly woman. He really wanted to shake him off and glare, but for one, he was quickly losing the strength to pull such an audacious move, and two he'd be on his ass the second he tried.
Dean, who'd caught on by now, jerked open the passenger side door and sat Sam down throwing the forgotten lunch to the back seat. "Alright, Sammy take it easy." He instructed firmly, just like he had so many times before: after hunting injuries, nightmares, child-hood crying fits when their dad was gone too long, it should've felt familiar and comforting hearing the words. But now, as he spoke them to console him in this situation, they somehow felt tainted.
Sam nodded shakily and kept his eyes away from the hovering older brother as he tried to assess their best options. "Okay, I'm gonna lay you back." He said seeming to come to a solution as he put a hand flat in the middle of Sam's chest and pulled the lever on the side of the seat to lay the back down. "Just hang in there man."
Sam grunted with the movement and tried to curl in on himself as soon as he was horizontal, but was stopped.
"Hey, Sam stay on your back," He insisted, voice tight and sharp as his palm pressed gently into his sternum, "Remember you gotta relax. It'll be over sooner if you do."
"Ugh-huh fuck," He groaned unintelligibly in a near sob as he panted gravelly, voice catching in the depths of his chest, "God I hate these." He muttered as his muscles started up their impromptu dance, whole body trembling with the effort to relax, paradoxical as it was.
"Hey okay, just hang on. I'm gonna get you outta here." Dean whispered just loud enough that Sam could hear as he ran a hand through his hair, noticing the stray strands that were quickly darkening, matted to his skin with cold sweat. He got up to leave only to fall back to his knees as he ran into a heavy, metal thing that rattled when he crashed against it. He turned, pissed at the hindrance and saw a cart full to the brim with plastic bags in his way. A man rounded the navy van they were parked next to and saw Dean staring at his load with mild fury.
"Oh sorry sir, just let me-" The man with wire-rimmed glasses began, chopping off his sentence as he caught sight of Sam, trembling and writhing, unable to restrain all of the groans and gasps escaping him, "Um, you're, he's," He started pointing desperately at Sam, Dean stared knowingly back at the man and made no move to turn and look at his brother, he knew full-well what was going on, "Are you taking him to a hospital? He could be having a seizure, sir I'm a physician let me have a look-" He rambled on shoving his cart out of the way as he advanced, Dean side-stepped him blocking off his path to Sam though.
"Sir, move there could be something seriously wrong with that boy!" He exclaimed gesturing around Dean to point at Sam again.
"All due respect doc, I have this under control. Please, get out of my way." And what the fuck was it with all these doctors, everywhere. Could he catch a damn break, an hour away from them maybe?
"No you get out of mine, that boy needs help." He persisted attempting to get around Dean again. But he didn't move, and he really just didn't have time to do this gently.
He slammed Sam's door and walked right up to the pompous, pushy, do-gooder man stopping only when the man took a shuffling step back, "Sir, you can either get the fuck out of my way now, so I can take care of my brother, or I can move you aside but you better choice quick cause I'm losin' patience." He snapped, voice so low and cold the man had no choice but to step away backing up against his car.
Dean's instinct had had him itching to simply shove the dude up against his stupid minivan and forget the speech, but his conscious had him speaking anyway, especially since the guy was only trying to help, irritating as it was.
Dean huffed a sigh and sped around to his side of the car, shot the man one last glance and muttered a quick "Thanks," for whatever reason he couldn't fathom before peeling out of the parking lot so fast he might've burned the rubber off his tires.
"How ya doin' Sam?" He asked tensely through the treacherous sounds coming from his brother as he tore one his hands off the wheel and laid it on Sam's stomach. He winced as he felt the harsh spasms and heard a specifically tortured cry grumble out through Sam's chapped lips.
He pulled off the road before Sam could attempt at an answer, opting to cut the drive short so he could take care of him, knowing returning to Bobby's would do nothing more than he could do here. Moving Sam right now was impossible anyway, so he parked in front of a sad looking creek, thinking it was deserted enough that they wouldn't be bothered and pulled himself across the flat bench. His knee pressed to Sam's quaking shoulder as his hand flattened against his stomach, warm and attempting at reassurance as it rested just below Sam's ribcage. As per usual the muscles were frantic and tense and knotted as they jerked Sam all over the place.
A rasping moan drew itself out from Sam's curled back lips, bearing his straight line of teeth as he clutched the hand rested on top of him. He clawed at Dean, obviously looking for some kind of escape as his teeth started gnawing on his lip.
Dean exhaled sharply through his clenched jaw, frustration taking place of heartbreak in attempt to keep his strength as he watched Sam fall to broken pieces.
"Alright Sammy, c'mere." He muttered as he maneuvered himself onto the back of the bench still laying flat and gently lifted Sam until he was resting against his chest, strong arms circled around his middle, keeping him grounded. "You're okay. Just ride it out lil' bro, breathe." He tried in his best deep, authoritative tone, but it came out as more of a desperate plea as he pressed a hand into Sam's heart, feeling the erratic beat under his curled fingers.
After a few seconds though he felt Sam relax the least bit under his grasp and his hand returned to Dean's, the one over his belly, to squeeze it. The most thanks he could conjure at the moment, but it brought the sharp prick of tears to Dean's eyes.
He buried his nose in Sam's hair and fought the urge to rock them back and forth as he stroked the muscles soothingly with light fingers, Sam keeping his hand on Dean's all the while. The only noise was Sam's heavy, harsh breath, loud and deep and booming through the confines of the car and interrupted only every once in a while by the stray whimper or grunt. Dean's hand would still against the twisting muscles and add gentle pressure and heat until they calmed enough for Sam to breathe again. The pattern went on for a half hour at least as they sat, entwined in the other's arms for the second time that day, waiting out the third occurrence of the strange, intense episodes.
The shudders eventually slowed and lessened in their strength as Sam let his body be controlled by forces outside his will and 'rode it out' just as Dean had said. Finally, it was over, and Sam was left panting quietly, eyes clasped shut, brow furrowed and completely wiped.
"Hey bud," He greeted after the calm settled following the chaos and they were left in silence, still sprawled in each other's embrace, "You did good." He praised quietly as he slowly untangled himself from his brother. Sam gave him a soulful fleeting look as Dean made his way around to the side of the bench again, facing him.
He didn't say anything to the quite acclaim though, because he didn't know what he could say. It was still embarrassing as hell going through these, having to rely on his brother, to let him take care of him as he succumbed to pain. So he said nothing.
"You ready to go back?" Dean asked interrupting his degrading thoughts and Sam snapped his head up to catch Dean's questioning gaze. Sam nodded but just before they pulled back onto the road, grabbed Dean's forearm.
"Dean," He started gently, a little unsteady, "I – thanks. You don't know…how hard this all would be without you." He admitted feeling too grateful for his brother's presence to drive away from this place without saying anything. He'd feel too guilty, spoiled maybe. So he got the awkward thanks out of the way and kept his gaze hidden the whole time.
Dean's eyes narrowed, brow following as he studied Sam, wondering where the suddenly spoken gratitude was coming from. He didn't do anything really, Sam was the one doing all the heavy lifting in the situation. Dean should be thanking him.
But he just shook his head and said, "Don't mention it Sammy," brushing it off as he pulled onto the road, "ready for lunch?" He asked returning to his voyage, intending to make it all the way home this time.
Sam nodded and turned to the brush rushing by as they raced down the back roads, thinking how false that agreement had been. They were off to Bobby's again, where he'd inevitably have to face the two men he'd exploded on, bitching about things they had no control over. He was shamefaced, sad and didn't really feel like talking to the doc about whatever it was he wanted to 'check on' with him either.
But he'd suck it up no doubt and deal with whatever came, he'd tell the doc whatever he needed to know and he'd get through this. Because Dean would be there, he wouldn't leave him, no matter how fucked up crazy it got. So he'd return the favor, stick around and tough it out until whatever inevitable end waited for him. Because that was all he could do. And eventually, he'd come to terms with that. He had to.
Feedback is just too great. Nuggets of wonderful muse-inspiring gold. So go ahead and do it. A penny for your thoughts. Was it awful? I'm honestly curious cause I wouldn't know. Haven't read it yet. Ha, yeah seriously. Pathetic.