Page 10 of 10
"Dean! What the fuck?" I nab the beer out of Sammy's hand as I walk past. "Dean!" Wow, he looks positively pissed, and positively tired.
"You're sick Sammy, no drinking for you."
"Jesus, Dean, it's a beer, not a case of whiskey."
That's my Sam, always bitching about my whiskey.
"Not having a conversation here Sam."
Sam looks positively more pissed.
"Any luck?" Put otherwise 'Has Crowley managed to keep you from researching the Nephilim?'
"Charlie's changes to the bat-cave computer let us track the Angels—mostly."
"Mostly?"
"For the longest time it showed an Angel hot-spot here—but it's almost gone now."
"Almost?" I raise my eyebrows; the Angel has vacated the building, vacated Sammy, whatever.
"Just a tiny glow."
Yeah, crap, no 'get out of jail free' on that one. He grabs for his beer, I snatch it out of his way and take a pull, "Nah-uh, Sammy, beer is for the grown-ups."
He stands-up and reaches over me. Hail Mary on my part—I down it all; there is definitely a great reason I only do that when I'm already drunk—I feel a little, uh, queasy. O'douls? Really? Not as queasy as Sammy, he covers his mouth with the back of a hand, and makes a dash to the bath room. Yep, Lisa would have said that up-chucking for no reason is a sure sign a woman is 'with child'. Great, 'woman'.
A few minutes later he sits back down.
"You ok?" He doesn't look ok. "Sammy, how long has this been going on?"
"Few of months," He says that as though it's nothing, at least that was an honest answer, I think, "and I'm fine Dean—I've been getting better, really."
This doesn't look like better. "What else has been going on a few months?" I barely stop myself from stroking his head.
"Back-off Dean, I'm fine, quit treating me like I'm pregnant."
Oh, shit.
"Just going to check in with Crowley." I look so casual, so not worried, so cool and on-top-of-things when I leave the room. I grab a few donuts, and donut for Crowley; donuts, that and the death threats, make him talk. I keep both coming just to be on the safe side.
In the basement with Crowley—and donut:
I slam my hands on the table in front of Crowley who looks like he is having a donut orgasm—gross. "Talk." He doesn't jump when I slam the table anymore, just looks annoyed—I'll take annoyed.
"I assume you want to know what I know about the Nephilim?" It pisses me off when he pretends to be in control of this. "First, for the record, it went well with Sam—except he nearly fainted." Crowley punctuates his sentence with a little nod. "Care to tell me what is happening here?"
"No, not really." I really, really don't.
"What if I said Jesus was Nephilim?"
I don't see how that helps me—but, ok, not surprised. Now we know for a fact that they can be immortal. That I can see how it helps me.
"Don't look so hopeful," Crowley can still be an ass. "He's dead."
On the upside, that saves me from killing Jesus. "So no immortal 'Son of God' then?"
"Just an Angel pretending to be god, making problems where none used to be," Significant pause from Crowley, half-smile. Cas is standing awkwardly in the doorway. "Looking for your boyfriend, Castiel?"
Cas ignores Crowley but doesn't look any less awkward. "Dean, you may need to talk to Sam." I grab a donut and stuff it into my mouth. "I upset him." Cas looks bewildered. "He's hiding in the kitchen. I might have made him cry."
Overly emotional? My Sammy? Can't be. Sam is just having a classic pregnancy, typical girl. I rub my free hand over my hair—this is going to be a bitch to explain.
"And," Crowley adds, "Sam can't live without donuts." Shrugs his shoulders, continues, "The gestation of Nephilim is that same as that of a fully human child. Also," here is his coup de grace, "Men, can be made to carry Nephilim." Crowley looks between me and Cas, "Anyone?"
Cas looks as though he is about to open his mouth. I glare at him.
"And Sammy has been a little ill for the past couple of months, Dean?" Crowley's sneer, even if he is all trussed up, annoys me, "Your Little Sammy doesn't know he is pregnant does he?"
No, he doesn't, and he's never going to know if I can help it, we are going to take care of it, and it will all be just fine.
"How did you trick Sam? We know that Angels aren't above a modest amount of skullduggery." He looks at Cas, yeah, Cas deserves it, but I wish Crowley would figure out a way to let go of some things. Cas isn't even an Angel anymore. "But you Dean, your own brother? You hired on an Angel to help make a baby Nephilim, things go wrong, let's say the Angel left" Crowley offers a little shrug, "and you want out, you need rid of your problem, quick, before precious Sammy figures what you did to him? You want a spell, some easy to get rid of it? There's not one Dean, you have to cut it out."
Simultaneously - I can see it on their faces - we realize that Sam is standing right there.
"Congrats Sam, it seems you're going to be a mommy."
What the fuck part of 'Do not tell Sam.' did Crowley fail to understand?
"You wanted to know what's going on Moose? Seems your big brother went and got you pregnant." Crowley beams at me: "Sam sealed it with a kiss."
"So you told him everything?"
"—he really knows how to use tongue.
I expect Sam to be angry—I expect him to hit me, a solid one on the jaw. It doesn't come. All that comes is defeat. "You did this to me?" Sam looks so betrayed. "What am I to you Dean? You conspired with an Angel to get me pregnant, to use me to breed Nephilim so you could commit murder?" he looks so disappointed, "I don't know who you are Dean."
"It's not like that," Sam has to understand, or he will run, and in his condition 'condition,' great word Dean, whatever, he's vulnerable; every Angel out there wants that baby – dead as soon as it is born - and Sam is just so much meat to be cut though to get the Nephilim. "I never meant for you to get pregnant Sam, I never wanted you to have a baby so we could just kill it. But once the Angels have that baby, when the Angels come to get that baby, I don't believe anything else they said, they will kill you to get it Sam. We can solve this now, we can fix it before it's too late, but I'm not going to kill a baby, what do you think I am?"
"What I don't understand is how you did this without my consent?" Now he is angry, "You were planning on doing this all without my consent? Did you think I wouldn't notice that I was pregnant? Did you think I could agree to this? Agree to kill an infant? You didn't even find out how I would give birth; and, once you had her butchered out of my body – because that's how it's done Dean - you were going to butcher her."
He thinks I hate him, he how can he even think I would do this intentionally? And he is in my face, and I have to remember not to react, not to shout, not to lose it, if I lose it, I lose Sam.
"It's not like that Sam." I am pleading, "I don't want you to have a baby, I never wanted this to happen to you, I didn't know this could happen to you. This isn't," and this might be the moment that I lose him forever, "this isn't why I let Ezekiel, possess you Sam. You were dying—he said he could help you. I never wanted him to do this to you, I never said he could do this to you. I never wanted you to have a baby."
"So breeding me accidentally isn't enough for you? You think you can take it all back? Take my baby before she is even born?"
"Wait, Sam, that not what I…"
"It is what you were suggesting Dean." That's Cas, he hadn't liked that idea from the beginning.
"Sam, how do you even know that you could be?"
"In the family way?" his voice is soft, tired, resigned, "I did the research Dean, months ago, when Crowley and I started, that's how I know, and that's how whoever this Ezekiel is knew he could breed me. He knows everything I know about them. When Crowley told me you had asked." Sam is whispering.
Then I get lost in the moment. "Why were you and Crowley keeping secrets from me? First you didn't tell me when you started this research, then you kept what you knew from me, then you make a deal to spy on me, what were you and Crowley planning? Care to tell me Sammy? "
"And you tell me everything? You forgot to tell me I'm pregnant." He stops for a moment and his face is closed. Sam is walking away. He pauses for a moment, doesn't even turn back: "You let an Angel rape me, so fuck you Dean."
In the Hallway; Fuck everything.
"Sam, don't just walk out. Sam! Please?" damned if I care if I come across desperate, I am.
"You're not going to take her." Sammy takes a breath, he looks like shit, but at least he isn't walking towards the door. "You always talk about family, she's my family, you know what? She's our family."
I'm going to try this, "It's not a baby it's a fetus," even the word sounds pretty disgusting. "What happened to 'the woman gets to choose' Sam?
"For the record, Dean, I'm not a woman. And, you've made enough choices for me—I get to make this one. And, she's been with me for four months Dean, she's not nothing to me, she's mine; but I don't expect you to understand." He sounds finished, worn thin, but there is an edge to his words that cuts deep.
"Don't tell me what I do and don't understand Sam." I say it, and it sounds harsh, and I regret it, but before I think I go on: "Lisa and I," It comes out in a whisper, maybe because I didn't intend to say it aloud. And I would never wish this grief on Sam. Sammy will feel different, he has to feel different, because he hadn't wanted this baby, he hadn't expected this baby, because of the way it happened to him, because it was forced on him. "Lisa was, we tried, we lost," I can't finish. I swallow, I bite my lip, I can't force this on Sammy, this isn't what I want for him.
Sam seems to understand, that's the thing, he and I always understand in the end.
It's only a momentary pause though, "I'm so sorry Dean, I really am," he turns towards the door again, he is shaking his shaggy head, "I have to go, I can't trust you right now." He is crying again. How in the hell did I do this to him?
Then it suddenly hits me, four months, Sammy had said four months. "You knew?"
"Do you really think I'm that stupid Dean? I read those books, months before Crowley, three, nearly four months before Crowley—then Crowley tells me everything you asked of him, exactly, word-for-word, everything, 'conception'? 'gestation?' 'bind'? 'hide'? 'destroy'? You think I didn't notice how I was feeling? How long I've been feeling this way? The bat-cave computer kept showing an Angel, you know it didn't make sense to me, I thought it was fucking error? But then, when I realized what was happening, I knew it was right, but it was too fucking late for me. I didn't how an Angel could have done this to me, I didn't know how the hell I wouldn't notice—kinda enormous thing to overlook. I didn't know how an Angel could do this without my consent. I didn't know was about you and the Angel. You invited him to do this by accident, Dean." His breathing is still uneven, forced, even though he's not crying, "Do you know how afraid I was, wondering how it had happened? I thought I was losing my mind again. And I know what you seem to have missed, when she is born I die Dean, and no matter how many times I do that, I'm scared. You want to know why? Because if I was gone there would be no-one to take care of her, to protect her. I knew you suspected something because of what you asked Crowley, but what was I going to tell you? I'm pregnant with a Nephilim and I don't know how it happened? Was that what I should have told you?" He takes a moment to get his breathing under control, "I've only known for sure for two weeks; but I felt her before then, my body changed, I changed before then. She moves. She was the only one I could talk to about this. I promised her, promised her I would keep her safe—even though I had no idea how—I promised her you were going to help me Dean."
He starts walking, and then I am pleading with him not to go. I tell him we can work it out, that we have every time. And I try to explain that it's ok, if he wants his baby, his little Nephilim, "I won't hurt her Sammy, you can keep her if that's what you'd like, I'll keep her safe, I'll keep you safe, after she comes, I'll find a way to do it, let me take care of you."
Sam shakes his head, he pauses to look directly at me, "You weren't going to tell me. What were you going to do, shove a chloroform rag over my nose and cut her out of me? Was it just a matter of now or later?"
"Dean was thinking of Ketamine, it's safer." Cas, dammit; what happened to lying to protect people?
"You're planning on torturing me?" Sam scoops up his pack. "Good to know you remember what Alastair taught you."
I could fucking hit him. I should fucking hit him. But he's pregnant, great. He walks towards the door again, always, again. "Don't go Sam, they'll rip her out of you, they'll leave you to die, they'll kill her."
He scoops up the Impala keys. "Right now Dean, she's only safe with me."
I step to cut him off from the door, and he lands the blow I had been expecting.