I'm sorry. There, apology out of the way. Tell me your thoughts as always, cause Lord knows I need every last spec of inspiration and encouragement, or maybe threat and blackmail, as I can get to keep the story going.
Sorry for mistakes as always. Chap Warning: wincest.
Rest of A/N you can look forward to!
Dean stayed wrapped around Sam for the majority of the night left, only separating once he felt Sam had been in the tub long enough. He rinsed him off with the shower head and helped him out; he dried him off and watched the endless stream of silent tears drop from his chin and run down his chest, then he dried those too.
But after they were back in bed – his bed, the other's sheets thankfully removed – Dean's arms went right back around his devastated brother and stayed, locked securely across his chest. Dean felt the strong shoulders pressed against his back shake in his embrace as salty drops soaked into his shirt; he tried to hold Sam together as he fell apart and was forced to let time shove in the new reality, dragging the desolation in suit.
Now that he knew Sam would physically be okay, he was left to deal with the emotional aftermath. The utter devastation. He didn't understand how this could be hitting him so hard when up until today, he had felt nothing for the things growing in Sam – because they could've hurt him - but it definitely was. The realization that his child had just died…it was steadily ripping him to pieces. He was torn between staying strong for Sam and breaking down himself.
Their baby was dead.
It was a few tireless tear-filled hours that passed before anyone said a word. Meyer and Bobby's footsteps could be heard in the hall every so often as they subtly checked on the two, but the door never opened; they always left quickly after hearing the quiet sobs on the other side. Dean changed the towel tucked between Sam's legs a couple times, hating any minute spent out of his brother's arms but going anyway in favor of Sam's comfort, reassured to find the blood had lessened each time he checked and now the boys were settled again, tucked under Dean's sheets and back in each other's arms. Sam's breath was fanning out onto Dean's chest, his eyes puffy but dry for the first time in hours when finally, he spoke.
"I should've taken better care of myself." He whispered ashamedly, breathing quietly through his open mouth as his nose was entirely plugged now, "She was your baby too, I was so selfish." He finished trying to burrow further into his brother, but Dean had other ideas.
"Sam, listen to me." He began sternly, lifting Sam from his chest and turning him so he could meet his eye, "This is not your fault. It was out of our control." He emphasized, "And besides we knew from the very beginning there was a chance that this could happen, no matter what anyone did. You understand?" Sam looked confused.
"What do you mean you knew there was a chance of this from the beginning?" Sam asked, squinting through his wet lashes in uncertainty. He didn't remember hearing that, not that he had cared to listen to much in the beginning. Just another sterling example of his incredible self-absorption.
"Meyer said so, you were asleep. It was in the motel room, just before we left to come to Bobby's. He said that your body wasn't fit to handle carrying one child let alone three, so there was a chance not all of them would survive." He explained gravely, looking hard into Sam's eye, "You have to understand, it wouldn't have mattered what you'd done. Nothing could've stopped this from happening."
Sam considered the new information, wondering if it actually made any difference to his current self-loathing. Because there were still things he could've done to take better care of them. Of himself. There's always something, he just hadn't cared enough to find it. To stop this. He could've saved her.
Dean's voice pulled him from his head again, "Besides, as hard as it is to face, dwelling on this won't make any difference. We can grieve, it's a tragedy and it's gonna take time to deal with, I know that. But we have two other babies in here," Dean whispered laying his forehead against Sam's as his palm lay flat on his stomach, "They still need you."
Sam was a little shocked at the revelation, not that he didn't know it, but to hear it from Dean meant a lot. He nodded slowly, moving his head a fraction of an inch against his brother's and then leaned forward into Dean's chest again, trying to find his strength, to summon it from some hidden place inside. Because that he could agree with – they did need him, and right now he owed them that.
He took a deep breath and tried to steady himself, if nothing but for the two remaining children completely reliant on him, the two he was determined to learn from his mistakes with.
"It's hard Dean." He admitted quietly, still trying to even his breaths and draw up some strength, "I miss her and I didn't even know her. It's like I've lost a part of myself I didn't know existed, and now there's just this hole." Sam took in a trembling breath, "I wanna be strong for them, but how, you know? When all I can think about is…" Sam's brow pulled together as he shut his eyes and shook his head, as if he could rid his mind the end of that sentence, "I don't know how to do this." He confessed slowly, "I don't know if I can."
"Sammy listen to me," Dean started with his rumbling, authoritative tone again, "I know you can. We can do this. You're not alone in this man, remember that. 'M right here and I'm not going anywhere, alright? We're gonna make it through this. No matter how it seems now, we are."
"You think so?" He asked quietly, chancing a glance at his big brother.
"Yeah Sam." He nodded firmly, "And we're gonna do this whole thing right from here on out. No more brooding about what we can't change - I'm done focusing on trying to fix this. 'Cause, if here, right now, is teaching me anything," He said, gravelly voice rumbling through the dark as he tried to keep his breaking words steady, "it's that maybe this isn't something to be fixed. Maybe we should stop looking at it as a curse and start considering it for what it is." He said meaningfully, "I mean, we've got these tiny fragile human lives counting on us now, and yeah, I always imagined that, if that ever happened, it would go down a little differently - no psychos or kidnapping for a start - but still, doesn't change the fact that it is, happening." He spoke quietly, eyes sobering as they bored into Sam's, "I love you Sammy, and I'm gonna love our kids. I'm gonna start appreciating this and making sure I do everything in my power to see all of you are safe." He whispered against Sam's cheek, "We can do this Sam."
Sam's mind whirled with the words, clinging to each and every one with something he could only think to deem as hope. And then he nodded. Because his voice was gone, and his heart was a wreck and his head was still spinning; it was all he could do.
Dean pulled him into his protective hold, encircling him again and cradling his head to his chest as his other hand slipped down to its familiar position just above Sam's navel.
A sigh escaped Sam's lips as he settled into his brother and let the warmth of the hands on him seep into his damp skin, heating him from the inside out. The icy splinters in his stomach, in his heart, were melting as Dean's words kept circling through his mind and he whispered an almost inaudible 'thank you' before closing his eyes and trying to seek out a few hours of deprived sleep.
The clock read 4:56 AM when Bobby's drooping eyes flickered over from his place at the kitchen table to check. They had been up since midnight and though in the past, late unscheduled hours would've been no problem to him, he was no longer accustomed to the irregular sleeping patterns, so being woken up in the middle of the night was no longer as easy as it used to be. Especially when the added stress of wondering how in the hell Sam and Dean were going to make it through this was weighing heavily in his mind, trying to drag him under.
Because what Meyer had said was right, the boys were starting to care about these kids, Sam specifically. He could see it and had to admit, wasn't all that surprised. The boys couldn't deny family even if they tried and their children were no different, no matter how unconventional the circumstances. So them losing one of their children now, just as they were starting to adjust to the fact that they had them, was the worst possible timing and Bobby could only pray to a God he wasn't sure existed that his boys would pull through.
"You think they're alright." Meyer cut into Bobby's thoughts, approaching with a fresh mug of coffee in his hands as he took a ginger seat at the table.
"No." Bobby replied bluntly not looking up from his own cup.
Meyer huffed a drained sigh, "What do we do?" He asked half speaking to himself, simply voicing his thoughts.
Bobby shook his head, "Nothin' to do but just be there for 'em. Make sure they know they don't gotta get through it on their own. Not that we'll be much help there anyway, we don't gotta clue what they're goin' through." He shrugged helplessly, "Only got each other for that." He muttered quietly, still staring into his steaming mug, "God damnet, they don't need this right now." He hissed a moment later, "Don't they have enough shit on their plates?" Bobby rhetorically asked, rolling his head toward the ceiling; Meyer slapped a hand onto his back in support.
"They're strong kids. And I got a feeling that as long as they have each other they can last through just about anything."
Bobby nodded pulling his head back down and taking a sip of his caffeinated drink before things fell quiet again. They sat there for another hour, contemplating their best options until neither could stay awake any longer. They checked on the boys, found both tangled together asleep, and went to bed themselves.
Dean woke the next afternoon breathing up against something hot and hard and warm on his cheek, blowing the air back into his face. He stirred momentarily, trying to figure out what was going on until the night came flooding back in one crashing wave of anguish, and he sunk back into the bed with a quiet sigh. Finally though he opened his eyes, figuring it was some part of Sam that was pressed up against him, and saw a dark nipple on the spans of a wide, muscled chest staring back at him.
He blinked a few times before lifting his eyes to Sam's face, surprised to see them open and trained on the ceiling. Dean felt his hands under him and pushed to prop himself up onto his elbows, scooting up the bed.
"Morning." He whispered somberly, flipping himself over to lay against the head board.
"You slept late." Was Sam's quiet response, "It's one."
"More like you didn't sleep at all." Dean corrected, "We didn't get to bed until four or five this morning." He said, letting the hint of concern shine through his voice.
Sam lowered his head and eyes to look at his brother for a moment; Dean half expected a response but none came. Sam hefted himself upright and swung his legs over the bed, clutching his stomach protectively. Whether it was from pain or protectiveness Dean wasn't sure but his hand was on Sam's back steadying him immediately.
"I'm okay Dean." Sam assured gently, turning his head a fraction of an inch toward his shoulder to look to his brother.
Dean nodded though Sam didn't see and lifted his hand from his back, "Does your stomach still hurt?" He asked, taking his chances that the question wouldn't stir an unwanted rage or guilt-fest, serving as a reminder of the night's horrible events.
Thankfully though, or maybe not depending on the perspective, Sam was calm and simply answered a withdrawn, "No," getting up to escape to the bathroom and leaving Dean in contemplative silence. A silence he stayed in for a long time, as he rose and dressed, slipped into the hall bathroom and brushed his teeth, washed his face and attempted to scrub away the physical remnants of yesterday. Eventually he was back in his room and heard Sam shut off the shower, looking up at the door as it opened and Sam stepped out in a cloud of steam, towel slung around his hips.
Dean sighed and looked back down to the ground, wondering what to say, if anything at all.
But the silence proved too powerful to break through and won out again. So he waited and turned away while Sam dressed immodestly in the corner before falling to the bed beside him. Dean's low hanging head turned toward Sam slowly, taking in the new clean and completely stunning sight of his brother, staring up again.
Gradually, Sam began to feel the eyes watching him and moved his own head down to peer into the green orbs. He opened his mouth to voice his question, but was halted abruptly by the intensity he saw in Dean's eyes. A fire set ablaze the moss green, so full of love and empathy and worry his heart didn't know whether to break or beat faster.
Dean conveyed a lot through the passionate fix of his eyes: it's gonna be okay, we'll do this together, I love you, and I'm scared shitless. Sam answered the wavering message with his own heavy stare: I know, but I trust you, you won't let anything happen to us, we're all gonna be okay. It was an unspoken communication that each understood as well as they would've spoken words.
The seconds seemed to last lifetimes as they held their silent conversation, it felt like electric currents were weaving between them; the static in the air was almost tangible and the heat of the moment just kept building and intensifying until the entire world got lost in the shadows and nothing but Sam existed anymore: something inside of Dean snapped. His inhibitions vanished and a moment later he was leaning forward, closing his eyes and slipping his bottom lip between Sam's, fitting them together like broken puzzle pieces.
Which is exactly how it felt, like putting back together a part of themselves they hadn't even known had been missing or split, they felt whole for the first time in their lives. It was as if they'd been in unknowable pain for years and were only just now experiencing relief they didn't know they needed. It felt like relaxing or breathing or seeing for the very first time and for Sam, he did care what they were doing or what it meant to the outside world, he wasn't willing to give up this feeling for anything. He worked with Dean's lips, pushing gently into the heat of the mouth before him and brought his hands up to Dean's neck, pulling closer. It was a salvation he didn't know existed.
For Dean, the kiss surprisingly wasn't the impulsive reaction to all the stirring, wanton feelings he'd been fighting the past few weeks and he didn't know what to make of that. This was something so much different and entirely better: it was a simple expression of love and loyalty and assurance. He was promising himself to Sam, giving everything he could – everything he had and he never wanted to stop. He found himself forgetting all the reasons he had been warring with himself over the month and gave into this new power, a new anchor that he knew could pull them both through anything.
A soft whispered groan dragged itself from Sam's chest as he shifted on the bed to face Dean at a better angle, giving more of himself over into the kiss. Dean accommodated the change and pushed back until Sam was flat against the bed, Dean hovering over him, moving against his body in slow steady rhythms as he would a frightened animal. Not that Sam seemed scared or ambiguous about what was happening, quite the opposite really, but Dean needed to be gentle and deliberate for his own sake. Somewhere in the corners of his mind he was aware that he'd started this, he had to make sure Sam wanted it too.
Dean pulled back as Sam let his head fall back against the bed, breathing heavily through his parted lips into the strangely aching space between them. They looked into each other again, studying the eyes looking back, trying to discern whether this was alright.
"You okay?" Dean asked breathily, holding himself above Sam on shaking arms. Sam's brow crumpled like he didn't understand the question, or maybe his answer, but he nodded anyway and his face relaxed a little.
Things fell quiet for a minute, chests heaving into each other, eyes still staring, minds spiraling, until Sam spoke.
"This is…" He shook his head searching for the fitting word, "fuck." He breathed not finding one, "It feels like I just found something I had lost or was missing or something. Shit I don't even know…what I'm saying." Sam said distractedly, focused on Dean's eyes as his brows pulled together again, "This feels like a drug. I can't think straight, but I feel kinda numb, like it doesn't hurt so bad anymore….Like I could be okay again." He huffed a quiet breath, "And it's from…kissing you. My brother." He stated looking confusedly at Dean.
Dean shook his head softly and pushed himself up off of Sam, though it did little to put distance between the two because Sam followed and sat up with him. "I'm sorry Sam." Dean offered helplessly shaking his head again as he looked down to his hands, "I don't know what's wrong with me, I shouldn't have done that. I'm sorry" He repeated honestly, the only consolation he could give.
"Don't be." Came the whispered reply a minute later as Sam's hands trailed smoothly up his back and to his neck, turning his head to face him again. "Don't be." He repeated with more force looking purposefully into his eyes, I trust you, were the recurring implicit words of consent, you won't let anything happen to us.
Dean paused but then nodded slowly, testing to make sure the words were real and honest; he felt they were. And his eyes conveyed the last of the unspoken words:
We're gonna be okay.
I NEED IDEAS. If you haven't noticed, the delays have sloooowly but surely been getting longer and longer. I feel horrible, I've gotten quite a few messages asking where I ran off too and what the FUCK is taking so long, and instead of lying and saying I was on my death bed, excuse me, I actually told the truth. Which was that I had writer's block and I tried everything, reading other stories, watching a couple episodes, talking to my dog…. So please, if you'd like to see anything happen let me know, cause I know where the stories heading but to get there, you know I want some action. Thanks for sticking with me through my pathetically irregular updates, you guys are awesome and I don't deserve any of you.