Bobby was quick to start yelling as soon as Sam and Dean made it home, over an hour late.

"What the hell you boys thinkin'?" Bobby said as soon as he heard the door swing open and slam shut, "We about went out searchin' for your asses, don't pick up the phone, take two and a half hours to pick up a damn meal!" He growled, ranting on before he rounded the corner and saw Sam and Dean hobbling through the doorway, promptly shutting him up. Sam was leaning heavily on his older brother but whether in pain or exhaustion Bobby couldn't tell. Frankly he didn't care as he immediately stopped hounding their asses and rushed to help.

"It happened again." Dean muttered gravely, "So I'm sorry but we were a little preoccupied."

Bobby's only response was wrapping Sam's free arm over his shoulders and helping Dean get him up to their room. The stairs were difficult, seemed Sam had really had it taken out of him this time and his feet kept tripping and clipping the lips of each ledge almost taking both men down with him.

"Alright Sammy, hang in there were almost done." Dean whispered quietly to his mostly asleep brother as they made the last step.

Sam was lowered gently onto the bed, barely supporting his own head Dean noticed as he had to slip his hand into the unruly mop of hair from behind to keep his head from lolling around until he was settled securely into the mattress.

"Jesus, he's basically unconscious." Bobby breathed from exertion, glancing at Dean for answers.

"He didn't seem too bad after it happened. We we're driving home and he just fell asleep. It wasn't like he passed out, but he went out pretty quick. Then I tried to wake him up when we got here and he just…really didn't want to. Not like he couldn't, but man he's wiped." Dean said studying the sleeping form on the bed. He shook his head at Sam, worried and confused and so far out of his element his head spun, but he re-focused himself and turned to Bobby, "Why don't you let me get him changed and in bed, I'll meet you downstairs." He said softly looking at the expression in the old man's eyes that he was sure mirrored his own. Sad, scared, lost.

Bobby gave a curt nod and Dean listened as the footsteps descended and disappeared onto ground level.

"Alright buddy," Dean muttered unbuttoning Sam's jeans, "Let's get you ready for bed…" Dean's eye caught the clock, "At three in the afternoon." He shook his head wondering how long Sam would be out this time.

He carried on untying Sam's shoes, slipping the socks off, tugging the jeans down and off and eventually working the comforter out from under his deadweight to drape it over him. The sheets pulled Sam's t-shirt up and Dean caught a glimpse of the white bandage still taped over his brother's belly.

Dean debated a moment, doing the math quickly to figure out the last time the cut had been cleaned. He thought maybe a full twenty four hours, so he decided Sam was far gone enough that he could get it done without waking him.

He quickly grabbed the first aid kit and got out the antibacterial ointment, then peeled back the bandage to reveal a slightly puffy, reddened cut, swelling around the stitches. Dean didn't like the sight at all, it didn't look entirely infected yet, but it would get there soon if they didn't do something now.

Dean made quick work of sterilizing his hands and rubbing the cream over the irritated gash. Sam stirred, face scrunching up in obvious discomfort before his eyes slid open into slits.

"Dean?" He asked clearly not quite awake, "Ow. What the…hell are you doing?"

"Sam has this been bothering you?" Dean asked ignoring the question for now, "It looks like it's getting infected man." He reproved giving him what he tried to make look like a disapproved glare. He was sure it didn't come off as anything close.

Sam looked down at the wound in question, "If it was I didn't notice it. I haven't been taking...the best care of it though." He slurred with slipshod, falling pliant into the bed again, "Had other things on my mind." He mumbled practically drunk in his sleep-induced delirium.

"Dean?" He whispered minutes later as Dean was almost finished bandaging him up again, "I'm pregnant." He said with that innocent, high-pitched tone that suggested he'd just now realized the fact. The words stopped Dean's hands frozen, hovering in position over Sam's stomach, "With more than one kid." He said incredulously, eyes still closed but brow furrowed as his voice just got higher like this was all news to him, "And…and they're yours." He said helplessly, voice dropping low like it was a secret he couldn't quite admit to.

Dean heart split and splintered hearing the drunken confession slip from his brother's tongue. God he wished to hell he hadn't said it; admitting the facts out loud, for the first time, like this no less...he might've well have had a bucket of ice cold water dumped into his face, waking him up to reality. For the hundredth time. Because Dean had done his best to come to terms with the basics of this pregnancy, or at least with the fact the Sam was pregnant, but the one part he didn't think he ever could accept was him being responsible for it. And hearing Sam say it, he wanted to die.

"Sammy we don't know anything for sure yet." He tried, voice breaking as he stupidly grasped at straws, fully aware of how weak his words sounded: how obvious it was to see he didn't believe them for a second.

Even though more than anything he wanted to. He wanted to reassure his brother over and over that there was no way, no fucking way those kids were his. Because he couldn't be responsible for this – not this. Putting his brother through so much pain, and who knew how much more to come. They were only a mere week and half into this. He couldn't see the hurt and fear in his brother's eyes for the next nine months knowing it was because of him.

"We do Dean." Sam said wrenching Dean from his gruesome, self-deprecating thoughts, "I know what they did to you. There's only one reason they would and you know it." He breathed, his head tossing feebly on the pillow, eyes still clamped shut.

Dean instinctively ran a trembling hand through Sam's hair trying to quell his unease.

"It'll be okay Sam." He said just above a breath looking at his brother's quickly relaxing form. He was tired of saying those words, he wanted to believe them. He suppressed a tired sigh and leaned forward pushing a lingering kiss to Sam's forehead, feeling the worried creases fade under his lips.

Then Sam was asleep and Dean was backing out of the room to head down the stairs, trying to pull together his hay-wire emotions before greeting the two other members of the house.

Or three.

As soon as Dean made it to the living room he was greeted with a face he didn't recognize, a female face, sitting on the couch with Meyer. Bobby was on the single chair nursing a beer before he shot up to Dean's sudden presence in the room.

"Hey son, didn't hear you come in." He said looking at Dean's questioning gaze and following it to the girl on the couch, "Right. Dean this is Rebecca, Meyer's girl. She brought most of the equipment we'll be needin' down from their place. Becca this is Dean." Bobby said gesturing with the neck of his beer bottle between the two.

Dean wouldn't lie, the girl was attractive. Long blonde hair, slanted grey eyes, big pink lips topped off with the typical girl-next-door blush. And as much as he wanted to saunter over and flash her his most seductive grin, she was a girl, and she was an outsider, and Sam had made it clear he hadn't wanted her around.

"Bobby can I talk to you a second?" He asked ignoring the formal introductions and simply sending Rebecca a brief, painfully fake smile as he retreated from the room. He heard Bobby mumble a muffled apology before excusing himself and following.

"Boy what has gotten into you?" Bobby asked ready to smack Dean upside the head once they made into the kitchen, "Ya ever heard 'a manners kid? I know you weren't raised by cavemen."

"Bobby I thought she was dropping off whatever he needed and leaving. You know Sam doesn't want her here. If he wakes up and sees her hanging out in the living room, drinking, just hangin' out he's gonna flip. He's gonna think we don't listen to him or don't care about what he wants, it'll get ugly quick. He's already feelin' like he has no privacy, if he thinks she knows…hell I don't wanna think about it. Now I don't mean to be rude, but Sam won't stay asleep forever."

"Dean calm down kid, she'll get out of here before he wakes up. But stop acting like such an ass and thank her for her help." This time Bobby did slap him on the back of his head, gently but still. It put Dean back in line and after he shot Bobby a proper-response glare he nodded, cooling off as they went back out to the living room.

Dean took an awkward seat down on the solitary love couch across from Rebecca and Meyer, "Uh, it's nice to meet you." He said as an offer of apology, "Thanks for bringing down the stuff." He muttered following Bobby's request as a little flush crept up his neck.

"Yeah no problem," She offered breaking the awful spell of following silence with a warm smile and little wave of her hand.

Dean nodded just as his stomach growled, rumbling like thunder through the settling quiet.

"Oh damn." He said hopping up from his seat quickly, "Lunch." He raced out to the impala hoping the chicken was still okay and grabbed the bags from the back, bringing them back in. "You all eat yet?" He asked once he was passing through the living room again, "Sorry we were a little late with the delivery."

"Nah we waited for you two." Meyer said leading the way to the kitchen as Bobby and Rebecca followed.

"Well good, we've got some chicken and salad. Help yourself, I'm makin' my own." He said absentmindedly as he pulled out a pot and filled it with water to boil on the stove.

"Sponge Bob?" Bobby asked curiously, raising a brow as he spotted the boxes of macaroni sitting next to the pot on the counter.

Dean took a second to figure out what he was talking about but laughed once he did, "You know it." He said around a smirk, "They taste better." Bobby just shook his head choosing not to acknowledge that ridiculous statement and joined Meyer and Rebecca at the table, digging in as soon as he was seated.

It didn't take long for conversation to start at the table. It was right around the time Dean deemed the water boiling enough to pour the noodles in...and he almost slipped and missed the pot when he heard what was said.

"So I never really did get the full scoop. Why exactly was I asked to haul basically your whole office's worth of equipment down here?" Rebecca said giving a pointed look to her father just as he was about to shovel a fork-full of salad into his mouth. Dean turned around to watch them through the two open doors of the kitchen, giving himself a clear view of the dining room table.

"Sam's sick." Meyer proffered shortly, dropping his fork back to the table, "We don't want to move him and he doesn't want a hospital." He said, eye brows shooting up to give his daughter what looked a lot like a 'drop-it-that's-all-you're-getting' kind of look. It worked pretty magically, she let it go.

Dean sighed a breath of relief turning back to his original task, surprised to find he liked Meyer that much more after hearing him stick up to his own daughter for their secret.

"Well at any rate I'm sorry it took me so long. The drive is basically half way across the country, and packing up wasn't all that easy. I think I'm gonna have to stay overnight and head out early tomorrow if I'm gonna make it in just one or two goes this time." Dean froze over his pasta, spoon stopping its swirling motion as his whole body when rigid. She couldn't really think she was staying here right?

"Of course, we'll get you set up in a nice hotel for the night." Bobby said politely with a gruff smile as he patted her hand.

"Oh…well, of course. Yeah." She said nodding, brow creased subtly as she tried to fumble for a response. Her face flushed red as she looked back down to her nearly empty plate, dejected and confused. Dean almost ran over to apologize and beg her to stay the night here, looking at that expression.

Whoa, pull yourself together man.

He berated, wondering at the impulse reaction. But then he looked at her again, and the urge to console was back. She looked so innocently puzzled, discarded - like Sam did with his puppy eyes. His guilt almost choked him as he watched this girl wonder why she was being kicked out by people she'd schlepped supplies half way across the country for. People she didn't even know, not to mention her father who wasn't making any move to invite her to stay either.

Wow we're assholes.

"No Rebecca stay here for the night. We've got room. Least we can do." He blurted out before he could stop himself or register the offer he'd just made. Bobby shot him an incensed and utterly baffled glance that Rebecca, thankfully didn't catch.

"Really? You sure, I don't wanna impose." She said politely with a timid smile, looking at Dean like he was something of a hero.

He took a moment, unintentionally holding his breath as he realized how much shit he'd just stepped in and nodded quickly laughing out his breath with a shrug.

"Thank you. You won't even know I'm here." She smiled a little more surely showing off her bright white teeth and honest gratitude. All he could do was nod jerkily again before turning his back on them.

"Fuck." He mumbled under his breath shutting the stove off aggressively. He needed to talk to Sam now.

He fixed up the macaroni in record time, cut some hotdogs into it just as he knew Sam liked and rushed upstairs with two bowls, dodging Bobby on his way up. He'd talk to him after.

It'd been about two and a half hours that Sam had been sleeping, so Dean didn't feel too horribly awful waking him. And he had every intention of doing just that as he walked into the room, but was stopped for a moment when he heard quiet moans coming from the bed. Nightmare?

Dean rushed to his brother's side setting the food down on the nightstand roughly and got a good look at Sam's state before deciding whether he should jostle him or not. He decided not pretty quickly, noticing his brother didn't look distressed. Not at all actually.

Sam's mouth was hanging open, his brow softly lined as his hips rocked almost imperceptibly under the covers, little gasps and groans escaping him, coming more frequently as the seconds flew by.

This wasn't a nightmare. It was a sex dream.

Oh holy shit.

Dean should be waking him up now. Or running from the room. Either would've been a hell of a lot more appropriate then what he was doing. Which was staring.

Studying every detail of Sam's blissed out face, watching his slim hips rut up into the air – the low V of muscle flexing and straining with every small thrust – watching his hands fist in the mattress, and wishing he was the cause of all that pleasure.

Wait what?

Dean's mind screamed at him even as his dick hardened in his jeans, pushing against the rough fabric, begging to be let out.

Before he knew what was happening his hand was back out in the air, hovering over Sam, almost as if to wake him. But that's not what happened. His calloused palm came down against Sam's ruddy cheek as his thumb moved over his mouth, feeling the hot breaths of air puff out and moisten his skin. He rubbed the digit over the crest of Sam's bottom lip and watched in fascination as a pink tongue slid out to follow the trail.

God he wanted to be submerged in that liquid heat, feel it swallowing him down-

Suddenly Sam's moans were flowing one after another, his hips grinding faster into the air until his body pulled taut and stilled and he was coming; Dean would've known just by looking at his face. Complete and utter bliss, and God it made him harder just seeing it.

Oh fuck. His brother had just had a wet fucking dream and he'd stayed to watch.

Dean hopped up quicker than he thought possible before darting into the bathroom conjoined to their bedroom and shutting the door behind him, hoping the click wouldn't wake Sam. He avoided the mirror at all costs as he slid down the wall to sit on his ass, completely in shock. Bathrooms seemed the place to be when every spec of normalcy was falling to shreds. It'd been his solace a couple times now…but this, not even a bathroom breakdown could fix this.

What was wrong with him? Some chemical imbalance or something. Had to be, maybe he should get checked out by Meyer, what if he was sick? What if this was a side effect to some disease?

What? No. Of course not, that's ridiculous. This was all Dean, it was his fucked up perversions, he couldn't blame it on some disease, or anything else for that matter. God how was he ever gonna look at Sam again.

"Dean?" He heard his name called from the other side of the door, "You in there?" Sam asked.

Dean hefted himself up from the cold tile and opened the door. Sam was still in bed, groggy, hair sticking out everywhere, fists rubbing his eyes: he looked all of twelve years old.

"Yeah, sorry did I wake you?' He asked going for casual as he B-lined for the dresser so his back was to Sam, knowing he would want him turned when he got out of bed. As expected he heard Sam jumping from the sheets and into the bathroom before he answered,

"No, I had this wild ass dream." He said as Dean stiffened. He almost answered with the standard 'clowns or midgets' before he realized he couldn't speak. Couldn't even move. But then the door closed and it didn't matter because the shower turned on and no answer was needed.

The wash was quick and before Dean even realized time had been passing Sam was out with a towel slung low around his hips, white bandage gone, cut visible as he prodded the skin around it.

"We're we talking about this maybe getting infected earlier?" Sam asked as he took a seat on the bed, Dean still hadn't moved away from the dresser. But Sam's voice snapped him out of his daze and flipped him back into motion again as he shook his head forcefully.

"Uh, yeah. You were pretty out of it."

Sam nodded still probably concentrating on remember all he'd said. Dean was moving to grab the first aid kit when Sam seemed to recall the whole conversation.

"Oh." He said halfway surprised but quickly turning sheepish, "I really was. I'm sorry for everything I said, Dean."

"You remember that?" Dean asked sitting by his brother with the kit in his hands. Sam nodded looking away, "It's no big deal Sammy. You didn't say anything I didn't already know." He reminded gently, glad they were focusing on something that could push away the insanely wrong feelings he'd been freaking out over the past hour.

Sam didn't say anything but just kept looking at his hands silently as he nodded again. Dean sighed,

"Lay back for me kid." He said quietly, grabbing the ointment for his cut and a fresh bandage from the kit. Sam looked up, surprised for a moment before he caught on and followed the order.

Sam's legs fell apart at the knees as he laid back, pulling the seam of the towel apart a little. Dean could see up the inside of his tan thighs shaped by hardened muscle, scattered with course golden hair. He jerked his head away and refocused on opening the tube of cream after cleaning his hands.

He spread a glob over two gloved fingers and as gently as he could, rubbed the cream around the cut. Sam hissed quickly but stayed still, Dean winced with the sound. "Sorry Sammy." He apologized under his breath, "It didn't bother you too bad before, it's hurtin' worse?" He asked continuing to spread the ointment.

"It's a little sore," Sam downplayed keeping his eyes concentrated on the ceiling.

"We should get you started on antibiotics." He said taping down the gauze when he was finished, "I'll get Meyer," Dean said as he got to his feet suddenly remembering the reason he'd come up here in the first place, "Uh, I brought you up some lunch. Or dinner really now." He added distractedly glancing at the clock, "But uh, before I go I need to tell you somethin'." He said hating how ominous the words sounded coming out.

Sam was reaching hungrily for his bowl of food before freezing with Deann admission.

"Sam eat." Dean ordered before his brother could get in a word, "You've hardly had anything all day." Sam glowered at him, refusing to until he spit it out. He didn't need to say anything for Dean to understand.

"Okay, um. You know how Meyer said his daughter was coming down to drop off his stuff?" Dean began trying to mask his nerves, Sam nodded, "She's here. And I think she's staying the night 'cause the trip was long and she needs somewhere to sleep so she can get up early and get outta here in one trip tomorrow." Dean said in a breath, wondering if all the words made sense however order they came out.

"She doesn't know does she?" Sam asked, calmer than Dean expected, "Why she brought us that equipment?"

Dean shook his head encouraged by his brother's reaction, "No, no. She just thinks you're sick and don't wanna be at a hospital or somethin'. Meyer made sure it was vague, whatever he told her. She didn't ask questions."

Sam nodded, "Kay." He replied simply and grabbed for his food ready to inhale it.

"Kay?" Dean asked before he could stop himself, Sam looked at him funny.

"What?" He said around a mouthful of macaroni, "You expect me to freak out or something?"

Dean shook his head rapidly, "No 'course not. Just wanted to make sure you're okay with it."

"Yeah." Sam said slowly, as if Dean needed help understanding the word, "She doesn't know and she's not staying for long, why would I care?"

"Well good." Dean nodded a moment later and stood trying to mask his surprise, why had he expected Sam to freak again? "I'm gonna, uh, go talk to the doc 'bout those meds." He said coolly, leaving Sam to his food. He blew out a long breath walking down the stairs and headed for the living room figuring that's where everyone would be by now.

He ran into a very angered Bobby on his way though and quickly had to explain that Sam was fine before he was allowed to go anywhere. Finally he got to Meyer and discussed what they should do about the possibly infected cut. The doc asked Rebecca to grab his case of antibiotics – the pills not the fluids for an IV, it wasn't that bad yet – and Dean ran the orange tube of horse pills up to Sam.

"Here bro, Meyer wants you to start taking two a day. With food, so take one now." He instructed Sam, who was now holding an empty bowl up to him, and exchanged the glass of water and meds for it. "Yeah I'll take care of this," he said holding up the empty dish, "Don't you strain yourself." He said giving him a sarcastic smile, Sam smiled back almost happily and swished down the pill.

"Thanks man."

"Yeah," Dean said more sincerely, grabbing his own bowl of untouched food on the nightstand and heading toward the door, "You feel like comin' down?" He asked as he kicked it open.

"Yeah, be there in a sec." Sam said gesturing to his boxers and undershirt. Dean gave a nod and left, happy that Sam seemed more…well, like Sam. There was less of that 'I'm-done' defeat in his eyes and more 'maybe-things-could-be-okay' hope.

Dean went to the living room where everyone was gathered, nursing beers again. Sam joined them shortly after, looking fresher and happier than Dean had seen him in a while. He couldn't keep the stupid grin off his face watching Sam interact with company so easily, smiling and even laughing with everyone a couple times. He looked genuinely content sitting around with the group, conversing as if nothing abnormal was happening in their lives at all. Dean just hoped it wasn't an act to ease their new guest and wouldn't disappear the second Rebecca did.

Around ten Sam was almost asleep on his feet again. He flashed a tired smile at Rebecca as he gave her his thanks and offered a goodnight to the room before trudging upstairs.

"Is it normal for him to be so tired all the time? He slept all day." He told Meyer when he got a chance with him alone. Rebecca had followed after Sam up to bed and Bobby was cleaning the kitchen.

"Probably." Meyer said looking at the stairs where his daughter and Sam had disappeared moments before, "First trimesters…people are usually excessively tired, light-headed, dizzy at times. And with that episode today I'm sure his body's still worn out. It's nothing to worry about. But tomorrow I do need to finally have that talk with Sam. I've been meaning to check with him since he told me about the procedure, there was just never a good time. Though if he isn't coming to me about any abnormal pains I'm sure there's nothing to worry about." He added more to himself than Dean, "I'll let him be for tonight." He said with a smile.

Dean wanted to question what exactly Meyer was checking up on again, but remembering how it went last time he let it go. "Kay thanks doc. He's wiped out. And he seemed happier tonight, I don't wanna ruin that." He said turning toward the staircase.

Meyer nodded, "I think so too. Good night Dean."

"Night doc."

Sam was changing into his pajamas when Dean walked in; he was pulling his t-shirt over his head and throwing it to the floor just Dean shut the door behind him. He couldn't help but get caught up in the swift movement of muscle under unblemished, tan skin as he moved. If only for just a moment. Then he was regaining his sanity and rapidly shaking away the thoughts as he stripped off his own jeans, hopping into his bed.

"Hey Sammy?" He asked as Sam climbed under his covers with exaggerated lethargy.

"Yeah?"

"I…I really liked seein' you smile again tonight." He said quietly, turning off the light, "G'night bro."

Dean couldn't see it, but Sam was currently sporting the biggest smile of the night after hearing those whispered words of rare affection, "Yeah Dean. It was a good night. See you in the morning big brother."

The boys fell asleep quicker that night than any other that week and made it through the unconscious hours without any interruption.

Rebecca left the next morning and after all Dean's turmoil, had ended up being no trouble at all. Dean was almost embarrassed thinking it had been any big deal.

Meyer peeked in on Sam the following afternoon and asked to talk with him alone again, effectively kicking Dean out of the room. He left them with a heated glare and quick explanation that the room was in fact half his before shaking his head and slamming the door behind him. He was promptly ignored.

Apparently all the fussing for a check-up had been because Meyer wanted to know about any pain Sam was experiencing going to the bathroom, but hardly had the chance to get out his question before Sam interrupted with a shocked 'what?' and, 'why the hell would you wanna know that?' with horror plastered on his face.

Meyer was quick to explain he was checking for any tearing in the tissue from the doctor's previous procedure. Sam turned beat red and was told repeatedly not to downplay any discomfort or pain at all, so he begrudgingly answered with the truth and said that 'he'd had multiple various instrument shoved up him, of course he was a little sore,' with the expected hostile tone to cover up his embarrassment.

Meyer simply nodded calmly and quietly asked if he'd seen any blood. Sam flushed red again, but thankfully could answer that one with an affirmative, loud 'no' and keep his eyes glued to his hands the whole time.

The doc seemed satisfied after that and gave Sam a quick apology, explaining that if there had been tears, they could get infected and he wouldn't be able to fight that off right now.

Sam did his best to accept that apology and explanation, knowing the man was just trying to help him, but damn Sam had been thankful when he was gone and done with the intensely awkward questionnaire. Meyer didn't bother him the rest of the day.

The next three weeks flew by. Sam's cut healed without infection and the stitches were removed just as his episodes began to dwindle. Their intensity lessened as their frequency did and Meyer deemed his body 'adjusting,' finally beginning to accept the new additions. Bobby had wanted to celebrate Sam's redeeming health that night, the night that just so happened to mark the three week anniversary of the pregnancy. Nobody was sure how they felt about the coincidence, but continued on with the subtle celebration anyway.

Bobby made lasagna from scratch at Sam's request and the four of them sat around the dining room table, talking with smiles of nothing important, all slowly becoming accustomed to the insane situation. Slowly accepting it as Sam was.

Another two weeks passed and Sam's morning sickness started. Dean found him the first morning it began, hunched in front of the toilet, shirtless and hurling up his gut as he coughed and hacked up a lung, knee-jerk tears of pure exertion running down his cheeks. It was an awful, heart-wrenching sight, especially for Dean and he laid a hand on the back of his neck, helping him work through the following dry heaves until he was done.

The rest of the day Sam had been bed-ridden, not even by verbal request of Meyer or physical force of Dean, just exhaustion and nausea. And Dean stayed with him the whole time. Feeding him whatever he'd accept, keeping him entertained as the hours droned by, feeling absolutely disgusted with himself as he couldn't help but stare every once in a while at his shirtless torso.

Whether on the bed, sprawled out or curled up, in front of the toilet throwing up, stuffing his face with pickle-topping pizza…it didn't seem to matter. Dean was mesmerized. Of course he kept it hidden even as it progressed over the weeks, but he couldn't ignore it. He simply did his best to take care of his little brother like a big brother should and focus on keeping the wanton desire out of his eyes.

It was a relatively uneventful five weeks that passed, considering the circumstances at least, and everyone seemed to be settling. Mentally preparing and adjusting to the situation pretty smoothly.

That was until night fell the day the morning sickness started and Sam woke up in the middle of the night with a racing heart, wondering at first why he was awake. He immediately looked around the room for a potential threat, hunter that he was, but when he shifted, he was startled to find he was sitting in a puddle of liquid warmth.

He yanked back the covers and looked around with wide eyes to see a bed full of blood.