This half of the chapter seriously came out of nowhere. I was just writing, chugging along, and it just happened. Lots an lots of angst and fear. Are you guys recognizing a pattern? I'm surprised you're not sick of me yet
Lemme know what you gents think.
Xx
Dean and Sam didn't move for a handful of heartbeats, both staring down the other, unwilling to back down until Meyer officially interrupted, approaching from behind and stepping between them. "Come on boys, work this out later. Sam, in case you've forgotten there are other, more pressing issues to tend to now." Meyer explained.
Sam looked out the window, inhaling deeply as Dean snapped his eyes over to the doctor, "What issues? What are you talking about?"
"Dean, we had a visitor today." Dean's heart dropped, a million worst-case scenarios flashing through his head in the second it took for Meyer to continue, "Caleb showed up in front of you're bedroom window while Sam was sleeping." Dean's brow wrinkled, "He got suspicious of us, keeping him in a motel instead of allowing him here, and apparently came to 'investigate' what we were hiding. I had him on all sorts of pain medication and antibiotics; it didn't even cross my mind to worry about him leaving that room unsupervised. I didn't think he'd be able to. But…I was wrong. And now he's upstairs sleeping."
Dean waded through his ire to process that disturbing chunk of news, feeling a new, helpless, somewhat unbelieving anger taking its place. An anger for their inability to catch a break - an anger that someone, and not just anyone but a hunter, broke in and was now in their house, prodding around in their lives.
"What?"
Meyer nodded solemnly.
"Why didn't any of you call me?" Dean raged.
"We did." Sam shot back reminding his brother that it had died.
Dean shook his head, refusing to dignify Sam's statement. "Well, we need to get him out of here. Does Bobby know? Where is he?"
"He knows. He's upstairs with Caleb, keeping watch. We've learned the hard way that we really can't leave him alone."
"You think?" Dean sighed, "So what're we gonna do? How do we get him out of here without him asking questions?"
Sam's eyes shut tight, his teeth grinding as he let out a frustrated sigh. Meyer looked to the ground by his feet, his eyes searching the floor without really seeing it as he sifted through ideas.
"We don't." Sam shrugged, his eyes avoiding his brother's, "He knows I'm here which means he knows you're here and as soon as he's well enough to be conscious without all the meds he's gonna know all the right questions to ask. He's gonna figure out that something's going on here, ma ybe not what exactly but he's gonna know for sure we're hiding something, especially if we try and hide me." Sam finished looking at his stomach as he stopped for a breath, "We're screwed."
Meyer looked reluctant to believe that but said nothing to retort, as did Dean. Because if they were both honest with themselves, they knew he was right.
"We'll figure something out. Let's all just think on this and talk about it later. I'm gonna go back up with Bobby and Caleb, make sure he's still asleep." He excused himself, feeling satisfied - for the moment at least - that everyone was updated on their most current predicament and itching to leave the awkward tension of the room, knowing the boys had things to work out themselves.
"Yeah we'll see you in a bit." Dean dismissed, hoping Bobby and Meyer would keep themselves sparse as he and Sam discussed whatever the hell had just happened between them.
Meyer nodded and ascended the stairs, leaving them in silence.
Dean waited for Sam's apology, still seething from his outburst of irrational jealousy but willing to let things slide for more important matters if he would just say he was wrong. So he continued to wait, mustering as much patience as he could to remain calm, watching Sam stare out the window, and ignore him completely.
"Are you serious Sam?" Dean finally broke.
Sam turned to look at him.
"You really just gonna sit there and stare out the fucking window?" Dean asked disbelievingly, "I'm surprised. You sure as hell had quite a bit to say a few minutes ago, now you can't talk?"
"Shut up Dean. Just leave me alon-"
"Shut up?" Dean cried advancing on his brother, "Leave you alone? What the fuck Sam?" Dean sucked in a breath, "What the hell happened in the few hours I was gone that I deserve this the second I'm through the door? Huh? Did I actually do something to piss you off?" He asked rhetorically.
"Who the hell are you? Its like I left for a few hours to come home to this pissy, irrational, insecure little bitch! You're really gonna sit there, accuse me of cheating - of being some sleazy bastard who's ready to just fuck anything that moves – and then tell me to shut up after I've been nothing but supportive of you and us since this whole thing started?" Dean panted, watching Sam's masked expression twitch as he raised his voice, "Well fuck you too Sam."
Sam finally looked up to Dean's eye, almost literally able to see the steam rise up off his skin with the level of his anger, and took a deep breath, his mask of indifference already having melted, beginning to show the guilt and fear and anguish beneath it.
"Dean-"
"Shut up Sam." Dean responded venomously, "I don't wanna hear it." He finished seriously, turning on his heel to storm from the room.
Sam listened to the stomping footsteps come to an stop in the library, feeling the hurt, shock and guilt ride over him as all his brother's true words echoed in his head. He slammed his eyes shut feeling tears slip down his cheeks.
"Fuck." He whispered, just wanting his brother to come back. "No." He whimpered pathetically, feeling the wetness travel down under his collar, coming to rest in the divot of his chest as his head dropped back on the couch dismally and one choked, silent sob broke free. "I'm sorry." He breathed on a heavy sigh, trying to re-gather his bearings.
Sam pushed himself off the couch and rushed to the library, stopping short when he spotted his brother leaning on the desk, his hands gripping the ledge tight as his shoulders tensed, his back hunched and taut. He was beyond angry.
"Please brother, listen for a sec. Let me explain-" Sam pleaded thickly, silent tears twinkling in his eyes.
"No Sam." Dean growled not bothering to turn around, "Whatever apology you've got cooked up to explain that...I don't wanna hear. There's nothing you could say to explain why you would think that because I had to get a ride home with a coworker, one who just happens to be a woman, that I'm jumping into bed with her the first chance I get." Dean shook his head before halfway looking over his shoulder, not meeting Sam's gaze, "Just to know you even have a doubt that 'I'll slip'…"
"Dean I was wrong." Sam protested, "I was wrong to say that and stupid to jump down you're throat. Especially just because I was-"
"You know what Sam?" Dean sniped, finally looking at his distraught brother, "I really don't feel like hearing this right now. I've had a shit day and I need some time to cool down. Alone." He said shortly, leaving the library, "I'll call you for dinner later."
Dean entered the kitchen no less mad than he was a half hour ago but ready to at least try and calm down so he could hear Sam out. He didn't want to be fighting with him, this day of all days, but to be ambushed the second he was through the door with half-assed accusations and outrageous jealous slights? He needed a little time to compose himself in order to listen to Sam explain.
A rough growl escaped him again as he shuddered in anger, thinking back on their exchange and unable to imagine how at the moment any words could make up for Sam basically calling him a whore because he got a ride home. He shook his head, gruffly rubbing his hands through his hair and down his face, trying to shake out some of the rage.
The whole reason he'd rushed home was to be with Sam, to vent to him and laugh about Jess's proposition and make the shit parts of the day okay again, so he worked hard to keep taking deep breaths and calm down as he started a pot of boiling water and retrieved the last packet of pasta. Maybe cooking would actually help to get his mind off things.
Because he wanted to talk to Sam soon and work this out: he'd had things planned for their afternoon agenda, like picking up a baby-names book and a parenting book and that stretch mark cream stuff; he wanted to get past this as soon as possible – there were things to be done.
And, not to mention, Caleb to worry about. He'd almost forgot he was upstairs, sleeping in one of their beds.
Dean's hand, jerkily stirring the boiling pasta, came to a stand still as he looked up at the ceiling and sighed dismally.
There was always something keeping them on their toes, keeping them restless and spread too thin, almost always in a pickle. He didn't think he could call himself a Winchester if there wasn't but damn, sometimes he wished for more than a few-days break.
He wanted a reprieve. A breather. A vacation. Time to calm him and Sam down and simply be.
Dean turned off the stove, those wistful thoughts still lingering in his mind as he went to retrieve the spaghetti sauce from the fridge. He rapidly spotted the desired jar and grabbed it, backing away before spinning around to find a bowl.
But just as the refrigerator door slammed shut, a tumbling crash sounded above him, shaking the ceiling, and the jar of sauce dropped to the floor, shattering glass and spaghetti sauce everywhere.
Dean froze, his head snapping up toward the booming sound as his heart plummeted and his skin flashed hot and then cold, breaking out into goose bumps as the hair on the back of his neck stood.
He knew right away that that sound had not been some pile of books falling off a shelf or a box of old junk slipping out of someone's hands. Something was wrong. He could feel it in his bones. And a half second later, footsteps were pounding on the floorboards above; voices were jumbling in a panic as someone clomped around upstairs.
"Sam?" Dean roared as he launched toward the flight of stairs, taking them two by two and following the noise to the bathroom. "Sam!" Dean screamed cracking the door right down the middle in his haste to get in as it slammed against the wall and bounced back against his body.
Dean was stunned still as his eyes scanned over the horrific scene his mind couldn't quite yet process, his arms melting to lead and his legs prickling numb as the images before him started jerking around in slow motion.
"Sam." He breathed before his legs gave and he crashed forward into the ledge of the tub, not even registering Bobby and Meyer trying to speak to him, trying to wrestle his deadweight out of the bathroom. He couldn't feel anything, the whole world was blurring in and out of focus around him, everything but the central point of his vision.
Sam: the prone, unconscious figure in the tub, on his back, head rested awkwardly against the hot and cold knobs and arms splayed wildly to his sides - blood pooling around the whole of his figure. Spindly, red trails running down his face, his chest, soaking his arms and leaving veiny tracks like a map covering his swollen belly.
Something in him snapped.
"Sam!" He screeched, the cry reverberating through the small confines of the bathroom as his hands scrambled for his brother, "Oh God, no baby. No." He half screamed, half sobbed, still trying to get to him. "Sammy talk to me! Wake up, God, please baby wake up. Sam!" He bellowed and groaned desperately, his hands clawing at the porcelain of the tub. His fists white-knuckled the edge of the tub as he tried to pull himself forward just as strong arms wrapped around his waist, yanking him back.
He didn't even realize he'd been kicking and fighting the other two people in the room until he felt those arms restraining him, pulling him away from the one and only thing he cared about, bleeding out in that bathtub.
"Get offa me! Sam! Sammy!" He wailed, throwing his elbows and feet back into whoever was dragging him away.
He heard the grunts and curses behind him as each of his blows connected, but he didn't care. He didn't care who he was hurting; Sam was in that bathroom, that little room he was watching from a growing distance, and he could be dead for all he knew. All he'd seen was so much blood.
Sam needed him. He needed Sam. He had to get back.
"Please get off. Get off!" Dean continued screaming, thrashing wildly in the arms of whoever had yanked him away, "My God Sam, please, 'm beggin' you. I'm sorry, I'm so fucking sorry. Sammy please." Dean sobbed eventually going limp, defeated in the arms of his restrainer.
"Dean!" Someone called, the sound finally breaking through the buzzing haze that had surrounded his head. He twitched toward the noise. "There ya go kid, can you hear me?" The voice kept speaking and Dean felt his body drop into something soft, a hand patting his cheek, "Come on son listen to me." It barked and something hard slapped across his face.
Dean didn't realize he'd had his eyes squeezed shut until they finally snapped open, a blazing fog of colors blinding him as he did. He saw Bobby.
"Bobby," Dean whispered desolately, his frantic panic slowly resurfacing.
"You with me now Dean?"
Dean blinked, his heart picking up with his shallow breaths, "Please Bobby." Dean croaked, "Sam." He breathed, showing his despairing need to get back to his brother in just the simple way that name fell from his lips as he took in a shuddering breath, continuous silent droplets falling down his face.
"Hang on son, get a hold of yourself first. We gotta get Sam outta the tub, you hear me?" Bobby breathed heavily, out of air from wrestling Dean, "By the looks of it he slipped, hit his head pretty damn hard so I need you to stay with me, alright? We could use your help to get him outta there." Bobby explained now that Dean could hear and hopefully process the information. But he saw Dean slipping back into shock, his eyes combing the floor feverishly, his breathing nearing on hyperventilation.
"Dean." Bobby yelled, "Don't do this again, damnet." He shook his head, "Fine stay here. I gotta help Meyer get him out of the tub okay? Just stay here." He demanded roughly, "Stay out of the way until you get yourself under control."
"No Bobby," Dean shook his head, shaking out his shoulders and taking a deep steady breath, sniffling before blinking back his relentless tears, "No I'm okay. I can help, Sam needs me. Let's go."
Dean was already off the couch and up the stairs before Bobby could even get another word out.
"Dean," Meyer greeted quickly as the boy came to a stop in the doorway. He was holding a towel to Sam's head, his other hand lightly feeling around Sam's stomach, "You back with us?" He asked apprehensively, "I need you to help me get him downstairs now." He commanded intensely, his voice sharp and professional despite the sweat dripping down the sides of his face in clear frenzied worry.
Dean nodded jerkily, his eyes avoiding Sam's naked, unconscious body in the tub, still haloed by the deep red blood. He grabbed a towel, laying it over his brother, as much for his decency as for his temperature, and knelt against the ledge by Sam's head, his tears dripping into his brother's hair as the other two men positioned themselves around Sam to help lift him.
"Alright guys, on three." Meyer directed, "One, two, three." He grunted as they picked Sam's lax form up from the tub, blood dripping obscenely from his body back down into the puddle as he gained a few inches off the ground, splashing the thick red liquid over the pristine white tiles of the newly cleaned tub.
"God." Dean ground out under his breath, slamming his eyes shut to push down his nausea before shaking his head, swallowing thickly, and leading the four of them out of the bathroom.
They took the stairs quickly but kept Sam as still as possible, not knowing the extent of his injuries yet and wanting to make sure they weren't exacerbated. Soon though Sam was being lain onto the freshly changed sheets of the cot in the basement, surrounded my machines that Dean prayed, once again, would potentially save his and their babies' lives.
A thought he hoped in vein, he would never have to think again.
"Meyer-"
"Not now Dean," The doctor barked, swabbing the skin on Sam's left hand before plunging a thick needle into a vein. Dean swallowed hard before dropping into the chair by Sam's head, uncontrollably shaking as he watched Meyer direct Bobby around the room, grabbing supplies and rolling over machines, helping with whatever he needed until eventually it all faded into a soft buzzing noise of the background, his eyes blurring around the edges as he watched Sam's face only, following the fresh and dried trails of blood covering his skin.
Soon Bobby's hand entered his narrow picture, working deftly to sift through Sam's thick, sticky locks to find the wound, razor in hand as cut away the hair obstructing his view. Soon a curved needle was being threaded and curved through Sam's leaking gash. Dean couldn't stop his tears, he couldn't move, he couldn't feel, could only watch, helpless, as everything important in his life seemed to slip away.
Then Sam twitched.
The haze started fading immediately. He leaned forward, closer to Sam's face.
"Sam?" He didn't move, "It's okay lil' bro, you're alright." Dean whispered next to his ear, brushing his fingers down Sam's sticky cheek as Bobby spared him a quick, cursory glance and nodded in approval before continuing his stitching.
Bobby threaded the needle through his skin again and Sam groaned lowly, his head falling to the side. Dean's head snapped down to Meyer for direction but was sidetracked when he noticed the doctor working on Sam's stomach, exposed above the sheet with something strapped over the middle. Dean then heard the two double whooshing sounds emanating from one of the machines, monitoring heartbeats.
Dean managed a quick, pathetic smile before Sam's hand twitched up, turning his attention back to him - his brow scrunching as his eyes turned to slits, barely opening. He whimpered.
"Sammy." Dean croaked softly in overwhelming, heart-stopping relief, "Its okay baby hang on."
"Bobby," Meyer barked, offering over a syringe, "Numb him," He said softly, never taking his eyes away from his own workings.
"O-ow," Sam stuttered quietly, "Wha' happened?" He slurred, his hand reaching up toward his head. Dean quickly intercepted him and brought it back down clasped tightly in his.
"Just stay still Sammy, it'll be over in a second." Dean said as he lightly gripped Sam's chin making sure he didn't jerk when Bobby inserted the needle.
Sam's face crunched into a grimace, obviously confused and scared, "Stop." He groaned, turning to squirm away.
"Shh Sammy, you're okay. Stay still." Dean ordered gently as Bobby backed away with the empty syringe and quickly got back to work.
"Dean." Meyer snipped and Dean turned toward the doctor, "I uh, need to talk to you. We've got a little bit of a…" The doctor's eyes flipped up to Sam for a brief second, seeing his eyes were shut and not focused on them, and continued, "He's in labor Dean." Meyer confessed quickly, looking down at his working hands, adjusting straps and managing IV stands.
Dean felt like his guts had just been ripped out, his breath punching out of him as his body went stock-still, his eyes wide and empty, staring at Sam's stomach – the skin still streaked in a map of dried blood. He tried again to understand what he'd just heard.
"You have to stay with me Dean. I know it's a lot, but I need you right now. Sam needs you. And I need to get some blood back into him before I can give him the drugs to try and stop these contractions." Meyer explained, still moving around in hyper-speed, "He had one just before he woke, next is coming soon. Keep him calm through it. They won't be too bad yet but any stress is not good right now. It'll only speed this up, you understand?"
Dean took in a shuddering breath, trying to work through the new information, "Why? Why's he in labor, I don't understand it's too early." He said desolately, feeling conspired against and confused.
"The fall shook them all up. Too much distress on the parent, too much blood loss, too much time unconscious," Meyer shot off quickly, shrugging, "It's not uncommon, especially since he's carrying twins."
Dean sighed shakily before nodding, feeling renewed tears of desolation run down the dried tracks. He quickly swiped them away.
"Look after your brother and we'll get through this, Dean. Just keep him calm, everything's gonna be okay." Meyer comforted quietly, taking a moment to focus on Dean as he spoke before turning away once more, going back to his monitoring.
"Sammy," Dean whispered moving back up toward his brother's head, "Hey baby." He greeted with a smile as Sam opened his eyes.
"Dean." He breathed weakly, "What happened?" He asked again, his face crinkling in confusion as he slipped in and out of total awareness.
"You took quite a fall in the shower you klutz." Dean teased lightheartedly, trying to laugh through his tears.
Sam's face paled, "'M God, th' babies?" He breathed heavily, his gaze moving down to his stomach, spotting the bloody marks covering his skin, his eyes widening further in horror.
"Sam it's okay," Dean said turning his head back toward him now that Bobby was done stitching, "They're gonna be okay. The blood's from your head which is all patched up now, everything's gonna be alright." He coached, calming his brother.
Dean watched as Sam relaxed minutely, stroking the side of his stomach as he debated telling him the full extent of what was going to happen. He quickly decided letting a contraction come out of nowhere would only spike Sam's fear if he didn't know what was happening, and opened his mouth to explain.
"Sam-"
But Sam sucked in a quick breath of surprise, cutting him off before letting it out in a low groan. "Ow, Dean. Ow, something's wrong-"
Dean heart rate soared, "Listen to me Sam. Everything's okay, you hear me?" He quickly disrupted to explain, "You're having a contraction. I need you to breathe for me Sammy. We're gonna get them to stop, alright? But I need you to relax." He soothed as Bobby handed him a clean, wet rag to gently cool his distressed brother off with. Dean nodded his thanks and stroked over Sam's forehead, "Just take a deep breath Sam."
"Contraction?" Sam breathed, panicked, "It hurts Dean." He objected, clutching his stomach, "It's too early, I can't have them yet, they're not gonna make it-"
"Sam." Dean barked, quieting his brother, "That's not gonna happened." He enforced, "Meyer's getting' you hooked up to some drugs that'll stop this okay? But only if you relax, any stress will just speed this up. You understand?"
Sam's breath hitched on a quite sob as the contraction finally faded and he nodded, "I don't wanna lose 'em. Can't lose 'em, Dean."
"That's why you gotta settle down," Dean continued through his tight throat, stroking the cloth over Sam's skin, slowly washing away the blood. Bobby seemed to notice the dirty state of the rag and brought over a large bowl of water to rinse it out in. "Thanks," Dean whispered thickly before returning his attention to Sam.
"How you feelin' Sammy?" Dean asked softly a few seconds later, taking advantage of the quiet moment to look intently into his half-lidded eyes for signs of concussion.
"'M fine. They really gonna be okay?" Sam asked again, tears forming in his golden orbs. Dean nodded, trying to hold himself together to comfort his confused, feeble brother.
"They're gonna be okay Sam. You protected 'em real well." Dean praised as Meyer approached the other side of the bed with a penlight.
"Alright Sam how you really feeling, truth this time?" Meyer asked, "Nauseous at all, seeing anything double, vision whiting out?" He continued questioning quickly but calmly, knowing they were on a time crunch before the next contraction.
"Lil' nauseous, everythin's fuzzy but there's only one a' you." He explained dizzily trying to keep his gaze focused on the doctor.
Meyer nodded thoughtfully, "Can I have you look at the ceiling for me bud?"
Sam complied and Meyer brought his hand down to hold open one of his eyes, "Just keep lookin' up."
He clicked on the light and Dean grabbed Sam's hand, stroking it calmingly as the doctor quickly flashed the bright beam across his pupil making Sam cry out briefly in pain.
"Alright Sammy hang in there." Dean cooed hoarsely, rubbing Sam's arm.
"Almost done." Meyer muttered watching to see if and how much Sam's pupils dilated. "Okay, finished." He said as his patient keened in distress, and he turned off the light. Sam's hand flew up sloppily to cover his eyes, "You've got a concussion, but it doesn't look like it's bad enough to worry about right this second." Meyer sighed in a breath of relief, "So for now, I just want you to listen to Dean and keep yourself relaxed."
Sam groaned, "My head hurts." He mumbled, one hand still thrown over his eyes and one resting protectively on his stomach. Dean took up his cloth again, rewetting it and wringing it out.
"I know Sammy, I'm sorry." Dean quelled, softly patting the rag over Sam's face and sweat-sheened chest.
"Oh God." Sam panted mere moments later, flinging his arm off his eyes and slamming it into the bed to clutch at the sheets, "Sammy remember to breathe." Dean instructed continuing to wet down his flushed skin with the cloth.
Sam moaned, the sound too high-pitched and agonized for Dean's ease, "Ah, my back." He cried softly, "Shit, Dean." He panted, his voice hitching as he breathed harshly through his teeth.
"Let's try getting you on your side Sam," Meyer said, hurriedly coming around to Sam's right, "See if we can't get the pressure to let up a little."
Meyer glanced at Dean, motioning for him to help and they slowly worked together to get Sam curled up on his left side, hugging the pillow under his head. Dean retook his seat in front of his brother.
The doctor and Dean continued encouraging Sam to stay calm until the contraction passed and Sam let out a shaky sigh.
"Okay Sam, the drugs seem to be doing their job. That one didn't last as long and took a little longer to come." Meyer said looking at his watch, "These'll stop soon alright, just hang in there. You're doin' good. Try and get some rest if you can." He advised before moving away from the bed, leaving the real comforting to Dean.
Sam nodded numbly, his eyes still closed and his grip still tight on his pillow.
"You really are doing great Sam. 'M proud of you." Dean breathed close to Sam's face as he brushed his fingers over his brother's fists, coaxing them to unclench. Sam pulled away, tucking his head further down the pillow.
"Sam?"
"Stop Dean," Sam husked, "Don' do this." He breathed tiredly.
"What?"
"This. Taking care of me, bein' proud of me? There's no reason for it so please just stop." He mumbled, "I don't deserve it." He finally admitted, "Not because I hit my head and definitely not after…everything I said and especially not after almost killing our-"
"Don't even go there Sam." Dean warned, no real heat behind his words, "This isn't the time to talk about any of that, okay?" He said gently, rubbing his thumb along Sam's wrist, "We can talk it around in circles once you're better I promise, but for now, just let me be there for you guys." He pleaded quietly, lightly treading a handful of the rag across the skin of Sam's stomach, gradually washing away the remnants of the blood.
Sam looked at him with wide, strikingly innocent, dark eyes brimming with tears, and nodded before he blinked and let them fall.
Dean watched as Sam's eyes shut, wiping away his tears as Sam relaxed, hoping it meant he might try and sleep as long as the contractions let up.
He jumped, startled from his thoughts when a hand landed on his shoulder.
"Sorry Dean, didn't mean to scare ya." Bobby said looking from Dean to Sam, who he saw was resting fairly calmly now.
"Where've you been?" Dean asked quietly, noticing now that he hadn't seen the old man in a while.
"Been in and out a few times, got Sam some ice chips and water." He gestured to the nightstand. Dean wondered how he'd missed that, "Been gettin' Meyer whatever he needed, took care of dinner." He shrugged negligently.
"Dinner," Dean breathed shaking his head, "Feels like a lifetime ago. I completely forgot. I'm sorry Bobby-"
"I think just this once you had reasonable excuse to let it slip your mind. Quit apologizin'."
Dean nodded his thanks before turning back to Sam, his punishing mind dredging up the moment he'd heard that crash upstairs. His heart dropped with his stomach, shuddering with fear as he re-experienced everything he had in that second, shutting his eyes to the dismaying scene that continued playing itself out in his head.
"Come in kid don't do this to yourself." Bobby reprimanded lightly, squeezing his shoulder in reassurance. "None of this was your fault, don't torture yourself with it."
A few silent seconds passed.
"I thought I lost him Bobby." Dean finally rasped, heartache throbbing in his words, "I thought I lost all of them." He confessed on a sigh, dropping his head into his hands.
Bobby crouched down to his level, brow knit together, eyes glassy and seeping compassion, and he opened his mouth to speak when suddenly Sam drew in a sharp breath, drawing away both their attention.
Dean had tears in his eyes when Sam opened his, looking for comfort from his big brother as his hand reached out and latched onto Dean's, holding on tight.
Dean leaned in and kissed Sam's palm, drawing his other hand around to gently massage the aching muscles in his back as the contraction started. He didn't speak, simply sat there with his brother, being whatever he needed him to be as the pain peaked and until it passed.
"Okay Sam," Meyer spoke once Sam's exhausted breath of relief left him, "We're definitely going in the right direction. That was ten minutes from your last contraction, I'd say we're about done." Meyer comforted, smiling down at the youngest Winchester with pride on his face. Sam tried to smile back but his eyes were heavy and his body, weak - his head pounding with the rhythm of his heart.
"Okay, then can we take care of his head now, he's still in pain." Dean said to Meyer, picking up all the signals that gave his brother away.
"Wow." A voice sounded at the doorway, shocking the four occupants of the room out of the conversation as they turned toward the sound, "Was wonderin' what all the screamin'd been about."
Caleb stood in the doorway, breathing in awe as his suspiciously clearer gaze looked over Sam's bloated, still slightly blood-streaked belly, "Guess I solved it." He said, wonder and fear and astonishment in his wide eyes.
Everything seemed silent for a handful of seconds: the air stilling, breaths stopping, bodies freezing – until Sam's heart monitor started firing off, beeping uncontrollably as his stress-levels rocketed. He neared hyperventilation as he realized his worst fear coming true, watching Caleb study him, so vulnerable and exposed, all his most precious secrets on display.
Everything broke into chaotic action again.
"Get him out of here Bobby!" Dean shouted, his eyes blazing with rage as Meyer stormed around the bed to tend to his patient.
Dean shot Caleb a staggeringly furious death-glare, watching his confused face disappear as Bobby muscled him out of the room. The second he was out of sight he turned back to his brother.
"Shh Sammy, come on look at me man, breathe." Dean shushed as calmly and confidently as he could, praying to the Gods that Sam wouldn't put himself back into labor, "It's okay, we'll take care of it okay? Don't worry about him; he's no threat to us, you understand? You need to focus on yourself, on our babies." Dean reminded desperately, his hand a steady reinforcement on Sam's jaw, keeping him grounded as he tried to focus through his panic.
"Dean," Sam gasped, still trying to catch his breath, "Caleb…what if he tells? What if he wants to kill me? Kill them? This isn't natural Dean," Sam cried holding his stomach, "He's a hunter. Now he knows I'm different, he's not gonna understan-"
"Sam!" Dean quieted, softening his tone once he got Sam's attention, "I'm right here baby. 'M right here. You really think I'd let him do that? Not gonna let anything happen to you, any of you, now calm down." Dean ordered sternly, "You listenin' to me Sam? Take a deep breath."
Sam looked to his brother trustfully and did his best to comply, inhaling deeply through his nose, closing his eyes. And just as Dean was about to sigh in relief Sam's calm breath turned into a short groan, "No." He whispered, "Oh God. No, no." He grabbed the underside of his stomach, curling in on himself. "'M Sorry." Sam said opening his eyes again before gasping, "No, stop. Shit. 'M sorry Dean, 'm sorry. I tried."
"Okay, it's okay." Dean nodded, trying to emanate confidence when all he felt was panic. "Sh, sh, sh Sammy. It's alright. Deep breaths." He calmed trying to hide his terror as he looked to Meyer worriedly. But the doctor was back to messing with the IV stand, adjusting the frequency of the drip, flashing his gaze down to his patient as he worked, a hint of concern flashing through his roaming eyes.
Dean ground his teeth in frustration, surprised to find himself praying once again, begging for the contractions to stop, for their children to be okay, for his brother to relax.
Dean squeezed Sam's hand, feeling his stupid tears return and blinking roughly before his brother could notice, "It'll be okay." He whispered, slowly rubbing the muscles in Sam's back again.
"Dean." Sam keened fearfully, his watery eyes meeting his brother's, pleading for comfort, for solution, for this to be over, "'M scared." He breathed through a tight grimace, his tears wetting the already soaked pillow.
Dean breathed in precariously, his mask breaking down at the soft admission, his face twitching in its attempt to stay unaffected and strong, "Don't be scared, Sammy." He whispered slowly, standing carefully and walking around to the other side of the bed, meeting Meyer's eye determinedly and defiantly before slipping onto the bed with his brother, wrapping an arm protectively around his hard stomach, "Sh, sh. I'm right here."
Sam exhaled contentedly, feeling the contraction slowly recede as he laced his fingers through Dean's, unable to muster the energy to care that the doctor was with them, probably watching. His trembling slowly calmed as his brother's warm body pressed up behind his own, wrapped protectively around him and he let the safety and reassurance and grounding presence of Dean wash over him, finally feeling he could relax.
"Thank you." He said squeezing Dean's hand and nestling back into his brother.
"It'll be okay now guys," Sam whispered breathily but confidently, rubbing their entwined hands along his stomach as his eyes shut softly and his body gradually unwound, "Everything'll be alright."
Dean let out a short sigh against the back of Sam's neck, delicately tickling the little hairs there before smiling tenderly, pressing his lips to the soft curls and nodding. "Yeah, it will."
Meyer blinked, the tears that fell snapping him out of his own head as he watched the boys' intimate moment. He quickly slapped up his hand to wipe the evidence away, surprised to find it there as he drew in a silent breath, huffing and sniffing before quickly busied himself with another task.
Except he didn't find anything he needed to do but wait, so he pretended to organize, simply trying to find something to distract himself from the overwhelming intensity of witnessing so much unadulterated, all-consuming love between two people as they used it to pull each other, once again, through an impossibly tense, incredibly terrifying situation.
It was as frightening as it was exhilarating and something he had never encountered before – so pure it almost didn't seem real.
The contractions eventually stopped sometime in the night and twelve hours later, Dean was still wrapped around Sam. They were finally slumbering peacefully after a night of interruptions as Meyer had woken them ever hour to check on Sam's concussion. Both were exhausted from the endless tears and anguish and fear of the previous day, now gladly taking every second of sleep they could get.
Dean finally woke sometime later, sniffling and blinking softly in the darkness of the room, sluggishly remembering where he was as he spotted the slivers of light peaking into the room from overhead. The spinning fan casting rays of the late morning sun over them as it slowly spun hypnotically above.
Dean lazily yawned, stretching out his aching muscles and rubbing his swollen eyes, trying not to wake Sam as he woke himself.
Sam moaned anyway, the sound instantly setting Dean's nerves on edge, as he blinked his eyes opened, looking curiously up at his brother. Dean sighed, letting his fear go once he saw Sam wasn't in any pain.
"Sorry man, didn't mean to wake you." He apologized gently before leaning down to peck Sam on the lips, meaning to merely greet him good morning as he cupped his face in his palms soothingly. A second later though, that intention was lost and forgotten, his whole body shuddering with the intense sensation of relief coursing through him as he licked at Sam's lips – the feeling like drawing in a long breath after being held under water, or feeling ice cold liquid slide down your throat after a burning summer day in the sun.
The intense wave of comfort and safety and relief shocked him, springing tears into his stinging eyes as he resituated himself on the bed, pushing deeper into Sam's mouth, gripping his head in his hands and holding them both steady. He lost himself in Sam, feeling every ache and sting and fear of the past day fade into the waves of the background until he could focus solely on his brother, letting each of them heal the other.
"God." Sam whispered against Dean's lips once he finally backed away and inch, "That's one way to wake up." He breathed, grinning softly as he threaded his fingers through Dean's hair, rubbing his brother's back as his head dipped down to rest on Sam's collarbone.
Sam swallowed thickly as he relaxed into the bed, watching the fan above spin slowly, his mind gradually wandering to recall all the yesterday's events, cringing as his guilt crept in again.
"Dean." Sam breathed, his brother rolled his head on his chest, not looking at him yet but acknowledging that he was listening, "I'm – I'm really sorry about yesterday." He apologized croakily, "Not just for being an idiot wreck and slipping in the shower, but for everything I said before that. It was so stu-"
"Sam," Dean rasped lifting his head, the tears he'd been trying to hide, hanging precariously in his eyes, finally slipping, "I almost lost you yesterday." He declared softly, "Thought I was gonna lose all of you." Dean grated, reverently running the pads of his fingers over Sam's stomach, "Walking in there, seeing you laying in that tub, in all that blood…" He choked out, stopping to clear his throat and swallow, "I never wanna feel like that again." He sighed.
"And I just kept thinking, what if those were the last words I ever said to you? The last words they ever heard us say to each other." Dean shook his head, "I couldn't have lived with that." He breathed, brow wrinkling in denial, "So trust me, I know how stupid that fight was. And the enormity of all it's consequences." He muttered, knowing if he'd just listened to Sam, his brother wouldn't have been so distraught when he got in the shower and he probably wouldn't have fallen, "I take back every word I said. I know we were both just at the end of our ropes; I should've stayed and worked it out. I'm sorry."
Sam blinked the moisture out his eyes and nodded, "Me too." He whispered, pulling Dean down against his chest and wrapping his arms around his neck. He felt Dean settle against him, turn his face into his neck. He felt his little exhaled puffs of air brush against his throat, his nose draw patterns into his skin and his lips press forward over his pulse.
"I love you so Goddamn much Dean." Sam groaned quietly over his brother's shoulder, holding him tighter before tucking his face into the crook of his neck, breathing in the sweet scent that showered him in contentment and ease and protection.
"Thank you." He whispered, for too many reasons to voice.