A/N: Hi all! Thank you to Nicole for your lovely review and also MJ and anyone else signed in as a guest. You guys rock! And, of course, thanks to all of you for reading this story and sticking with me.

I am leaving for vacation on Friday and will be away from my computer for at least a week, so I'm posting Chapter 9 today and Chapter 10 TOMORROW so you won't have to wait two weeks for it-just because I love you guys! So be on the lookout TOMORROW, Thursday, July 19. I may not be able to answer your reviews right away, but please know that they are very much appreciated. Please, keep 'em coming. They make my day and fuel the muse.

Last but certainly not least, thanks to catsluver and skzb for the geniuses that they are. Any mistakes are mine, as are all medical inaccuracies.

Chapter 9

Two days later, Sam heard the quiet murmur of voices. He opened his eyes to see two nurses beginning the process of getting TJ out of bed. It was early morning, and he was lying on his stomach on the other patient bed in the room, where he'd slept for the last two nights. He wondered how long it would be before their luck ran out and another patient occupied the bed. TJ had already gone over a week now with no roommate, and he knew it couldn't last.

He wasn't sure what he would do when he got kicked out of the bed. He could spoon with TJ in her bed for a few hours, but she couldn't sleep comfortably like that for a whole night. She was kind of a wild sleeper and needed space to move around. The bed wasn't big enough for allowing that with him in it too. One thing was for certain—he wasn't leaving her alone at night.

Judging by the hushed voices of the nurses and TJ, they were trying not to wake him. He didn't do anything to alert them that he was awake. He wanted to watch TJ when she didn't know it, when she wasn't trying to put on a brave face for his benefit.

In just the two days he'd been with her, she was worse. The nausea and vomiting had increased to where she could hardly keep anything down, including water. If it weren't for the separate IV of partial parenteral nutrition that she was getting—what the nurses called "PPN"—she would be dehydrated and malnourished.

One of the nurses raised the head of TJ's bed into a sitting position, which was hard on TJ, since she wasn't even allowed to sit up while on bed rest unless it was absolutely necessary. She was supposed to be reclined at all times. Sitting up straight or standing caused a head rush that exacerbated her ever-present headache and made her nauseous and woozy. She winced and rubbed her forehead with her fingers. Sam could see a slight tremor in her hands from where he was.

"We'll give you a minute, baby." It was the stout black nurse with an impressive head of long, tiny woven braids named Ivy who was speaking. She was the type of woman who would give you a bear hug and squish you into her cushiony bosom if you'd let her. Sam liked how Ivy was so gentle and treated TJ as if she were one of her own children.

All the nurses Sam had met so far were good to TJ. They all seemed to be protective of her and had taken her under their wing. They were pulling for her and the babies and were doing their best to see that she and the twins came through okay. Despite all their efforts, however, TJ's body had other ideas.

As if sensing Sam was awake, TJ suddenly looked at him and gave him a smile that was genuine, if a little wan. "Mornin'."

He returned her smile, trying not to let his worry for her show. "Morning."

She glanced at Ivy and the thin, gray-haired nurse whose badge read "Martha." "Let's let Sam have first dibs on the bathroom, y'all. This could take me a while."

"Sure," said Martha, as she unhooked the IV catheter from TJ's PICC line.

Sam got himself out of bed and into his wheelchair, which was sitting next to the bed. His duffel, which held his toiletries, a change of clothes, and other essentials, sat on the floor just in front of the bedside table, and he grabbed it and headed toward the bathroom.

He did the basics, not wanting to take up too much time. He was wearing a T-shirt and sweatpants, but he would worry about changing into something else once he had a chance to shower and finish his morning routine.

When he rolled out of the bathroom, he saw that TJ was sitting on the side of the bed, white-slippered feet on the floor, shoulders hunched in a sort of dejected way, eyes closed. It bothered him that the simple act of getting out of bed in the morning had become so difficult for her. Both Ivy and Martha had looks of sympathy mixed with concern on their faces, and Ivy was rubbing TJ's back in comforting circles.

Ivy's rich voice was low. "You want me to get a wheelchair, baby?"

TJ waited a moment to respond, then scowled. "No. I can make it to the damn bathroom. It's not that far away." She sounded irritated, but Sam knew it wasn't aimed at anyone in particular. She was irritated at the whole situation, in addition to feeling like crap. It was the first break he had seen in her seemingly inexhaustible reserve of good spirits. She had been a model patient—a far cry from when she was in the hospital last year because of the bulimia.

Her head came up and her eyes sought him out, again with that sixth sense she seemed to have regarding him. She blushed, like she was embarrassed that he'd witnessed her show of temper, but then she managed a tired smile. "Sam can give me a ride if I can't make it."

He tried to smile back but wasn't sure that what came out could be construed as such. Ivy and Martha flanked TJ on each side and wore expressions that he was sure weren't meant to be so bleak. He was glad TJ couldn't see them.

"All right," said TJ. "Let's get this over with." She slowly began to stand as Martha and Ivy supported her. TJ was an inch or so taller than Martha and a head taller than Ivy.

"How you doing, baby?" asked Ivy.

All the blood seemed to have drained from TJ's face, and her eyes looked unfocused. She swallowed convulsively, like she was feeling nauseous.

Ivy spoke again. "You need to sit down, baby? You gonna throw up?"

TJ laughed weakly. "Nothin' to throw up."

After a nod from TJ, the threesome slowly shuffled their way to the bathroom. Except for a brief time where Martha and Ivy stepped out to give TJ some privacy to use the restroom, they were in there the whole time to help bathe and dress her.

When she came back out, she was wearing a clean pair of white pajama pants with big pink-and-black dots on them and one of Sam's old black T-shirts from an Aerosmith concert Dean dragged him to years ago. TJ had confiscated most of Sam's T-shirts, especially the concert ones, which was fine with him since he never wore them anyway. They were more Dean's thing, and most of them came from thrift shops. The fact that he and Dean actually went to the Aerosmith concert was a rare occurrence.

The T-shirt was tight around TJ's protruding round belly, but it was kind of cool. He liked that she wore his shirts. It made him feel more connected to her.

She was still supported by the nurses, looking even more dizzy and depleted than she did when she first got up. The freckles dusting her nose and cheekbones looked stark and incongruous on her pale, swollen face.

The swelling had shocked him more than anything when he'd first seen her. The skin on her face, hands, and ankles looked like it was stretched tight, like the casing on a sausage. She looked like she had gained thirty pounds in a matter of weeks, but it wasn't from eating too much. It was toxic fluid that wasn't being filtered properly from her body because her kidneys weren't working right.

He wondered if the weight gain bothered her. She hadn't said anything about it. She never complained about anything, probably because she didn't want him to worry—and because she knew he was still pissed that she didn't tell him when it all started, pissed that she didn't tell him she was in the hospital, and pissed that she didn't keep her promise.

He was trying to let his anger go for her sake, but every time he witnessed her struggling like she was this morning, a fresh wave of betrayal hit him along with an icy fear that she was deteriorating before his eyes. He should have been here for her, but he hadn't been because the two people he loved the most lied to him. It was hard to stomach, even if they'd done it out of a misguided sense that it was for his own good. He hadn't even begun to deal with the anger he felt toward Dean.

TJ and the nurses inched their way back to the bed. Sam wanted to offer her a ride, but he knew she wouldn't take it. She only got out of bed a few times a day, and as hard on her as it was, she wanted the chance to walk around, however briefly. Once she made it back to her bed, she sat down on the edge of the mattress, catching her breath for a second, and kicked off her slippers. She gave Sam a self-conscious smile as she lay back down and tugged at her pajama pants. "I need a makeover, right?"

He locked eyes with her. "You're beautiful." He'd never been more sincere about anything in his life.

She blushed, causing a little color to come back to her pale face.

"Mm-mm," admired Ivy, eyeing Sam with approval. Then she spoke to TJ. "Now I know why you kept this one."

TJ's eyes never left Sam. "Yeah. Sometimes he's worth the trouble."

Sam smiled, and Ivy's chest shook with a chuckle.

Martha, apparently a woman of few words, covered TJ with the sheet and blanket and placed the pulse ox clip back on her finger.

TJ was lying back against her pillow, the bed inclined to where she could see around the room and hold a conversation but wasn't really sitting up. She looked relieved to be back in bed. "I gotta start workin' out more," she quipped.

Sam gave a small laugh and pushed himself up to the side of the bed where there were no nurses standing, where he wouldn't be in the way. He reached over and brushed TJ's soft hair away from her face. It was still a little damp from her bath. She wore it down most of the time now because she'd said the ponytail was kind of uncomfortable when she was lying down.

Her gaze rested on him for a moment, but then she was distracted when Ivy put the blood pressure cuff on her arm.

"Sorry, baby," said Ivy. "You're gonna have to wear this for a while."

TJ shrugged. "It doesn't bother me." She stared at the cuff, watching as it started to contract at intervals on her arm. "Sometimes I feel kind of naked without it."

Ivy smiled, but then she grew serious, her dark brows knitting into a frown. "Mm-mm, child. I am not liking your pressure at all."

Sam could see on the monitor that TJ's blood pressure was way too high, and his concern ratcheted up a notch. It must have shown on his face because TJ grabbed his hand in her swollen one and squeezed. "Don't worry," she said. "It's just because I was up walkin' around. It'll go down in a little bit."

Ivy's frown softened, and she patted TJ's free hand. "I'm sure you're right. We'll just keep an eye on it."

Sam didn't feel very reassured, but he didn't want TJ to know how afraid for her he was or that he felt like it was his fault. It would just upset her, and that was the last thing she needed. He raised her hand to his lips and gave it a quick kiss.

Martha and Ivy checked a few more of TJ's vitals, recording them in her chart. They also replaced the almost-empty IV bags hanging on a pole by her bed with new ones and reconnected her PICC line. She had a separate IV line in her hand for the PPN that she was getting, and they hooked it up to one of the bags too.

"All right, baby," said Ivy. "Breakfast cart will be around in a minute. You call us if you need anything."

"Thanks," TJ said with a yawn. After the nurses were gone, she regarded Sam with a sleepy eyes. "You should finish getting dressed and go get some breakfast yourself."

She was right, but all he could do was cling to her hand. He couldn't make himself let go of her, scared that something bad might happen if he left.

She yawned again. "I'll be fine. I'm gonna take a catnap. My little stroll wore me out."

He hesitated. "You want me to get something else for you for breakfast instead of what they're gonna bring you?"

She appeared to turn green at the mere thought. "Ugh. No."

He knew she probably wouldn't eat whatever had been ordered for her either and was worried that she wasn't eating anything at all now.

"It's ironic, right?" she said.

"What is?"

"The bulimia, the fact that I used to make myself throw up on purpose. Now that I don't wanna throw up, I can't keep anything down."

"TJ—"

"Then there's the fact that I look like the Goodyear blimp, but I'm not eatin' anything. I should be skin and bones." She paused. "You think maybe I'm being punished?"

"What?" He was disturbed by the suggestion. "TJ, no way. This has nothing to do with your eating disorder."

"I don't know. Sometimes it seems like God's got a pretty ironic sense of humor."

Sam had never heard her talk like this. She wasn't zealously religious by any means, but she'd always had a steady Christian faith. "TJ, you're not being punished for the bulimia. Sometimes shitty things just happen."

She suddenly squeezed his hand with shocking intensity and held his gaze. "That's right, Sam." Her brown eyes burned with meaning. "Sometimes shitty things just happen that can't be explained. Don't forget that."

He realized in that moment that she knew him far better than he'd ever thought, that she saw into the darkest recesses of his mind. She knew what he'd been thinking, that he was afraid the babies were making her sick because of the demon blood. He'd tried to hide it—from her and himself—but he obviously hadn't done a very good job of it. In her own way, she was telling him not to blame the twins, that her condition wasn't their fault.

He didn't know what to say.

She tenderly traced his jaw with her fingers. "Go away," she said without any bite, letting him off the hook. "You're keeping me awake."

He closed his eyes, indulging himself for a brief second in her touch. His voice came out husky. "I guess I'll take a shower then and grab something from the cafeteria. I'll be back."

She smiled. "I know. You always come back."

He took her hand and kissed it again, unable to get enough of her. "Don't go anywhere."

Her eyes were already drifting closed. "'Kay."

XXXXXXXX

When he came back from the cafeteria an hour later, he carried a small, white paper sack on his lap that contained a multigrain bagel, cream cheese, and a vanilla latte in a to-go cup. TJ had still been asleep after he finished his shower, so he went to the cafeteria to grab a quick breakfast. He didn't eat it there because he was afraid she might wake up while he was gone.

As he pushed himself through the doorway of her room, he froze. TJ's bed was empty.

He stared at the bed, at first not truly comprehending, and then tried to stave off panic. She had been sound asleep not twenty minutes ago. He shook his head. "No, no, no, no."

There was a logical explanation. There had to be. Maybe the nurses had helped her up for a bathroom break. But no one was waiting outside the door to the bathroom, there were no voices behind it, and there was no sliver of light underneath it.

The covers of the bed were rumpled, and the blood pressure cuff lay on it as if it had been carelessly removed from her arm and discarded. He wheeled forward, eyes scanning the room, heart starting to race. Please, God. Please, God. Let her be okay. Please, God. He chanted it over and over in his head and berated himself for leaving her alone.

What could have happened? Had she seized or stroked out? He had visions of crash carts and nurses rushing her out of the room on a gurney to God knew where while he'd been downstairs buying a fucking latte.

As he neared the bed, he tossed the breakfast sack haphazardly onto the overbed table and ran a hand through his hair. He was a millisecond away from full-on panic and tried to think what to do, tried to control the frantic hammering of his heart.

Then he saw her...and he could breathe again.

She sat with her back against the side of the bed that was hidden from the door. Her legs were spread out in front of her, and her feet were bare and swollen. He pushed himself around the end of the bed and over to her. She was staring at a vague point in front of her and didn't seem to register his presence.

"TJ?"

She didn't respond.

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and took her face in his hands, tilting it upward. "TJ, are you okay?"

Her eyes rose to meet his, her brow furrowing with confusion. "Sam?"

"Yes. Are you okay? Did you fall off the bed?"

"Why aren't you at Berkeley?"

Fingers of fear snaked through him, instantly cooling his blood. "TJ, I finished my finals, remember? I've been back a few days now."

She mulled that over. "Oh. Really?"

"Yes."

She didn't say anything, just stared at him.

"Can you tell me what happened, how you ended up on the floor?"

Tears welled in her eyes and her voice trembled. "I don't know." She looked up at the IV bags. "Why am I tethered to this pole?" Her drawl was pronounced, and she sounded like a lost child.

His heart ached. "It's for your IVs. It's stuff to make you feel better."

"I don't think it's workin'. I don't feel very good."

He rubbed his thumb over her cheek, wiping away a tear from it. "I know."

She looked down at her arm. "I tried to get free of it, but I couldn't. It hurt."

He saw that the IV in her hand was still in place, so he reached out and pulled the short sleeve of her T-shirt up, revealing the PICC line. The dressing was seeping blood. He suddenly felt weak. "TJ, I'm gonna call for help, okay?"

She was still staring at her arm, perplexed, but his words caught her attention. "Don't leave me."

He felt choked, like he couldn't breathe. "I won't."

XXXXXXXX

Sam sat beside TJ's bed and watched as Dr. Williams shone a penlight in her eyes. TJ winced and squeezed Sam's hand.

"Can you tell me your full name?" asked Dr. Williams.

TJ scrunched up her nose in a comical grimace and Sam smiled, relieved that she was recovered enough to at least be disgruntled about her name.

"TJ?" Dr. Williams prompted.

"Oh, I can tell you my full name. I just don't want to."

Dr. Williams smiled wryly. "Sorry, but I already know. It's on your insurance information."

TJ gave a long-suffering sigh. "True Joy Nelek." She turned abruptly to Sam, brows raised in sudden realization. "Oops. I mean Winchester."

He smiled.

Dr. Williams resumed her questioning. "When's your birthday?"

"July 31st, 1985."

"Who's the president?"

"Of what?"

"The U.S."

"Barack Obama."

"What city do you live in?"

"San Diego, California."

What year is it?

"2009."

"What does a nucleotide consist of?"

TJ answered without missing a beat. "A nitrogenous base, a five-carbon sugar called deoxyribose, and one or more phosphate groups. There are two classes of nitrogen bases called purines and pyrimidines. The four bases in DNA's alphabet are adenine, cytosine, guanine, and thymine."

Dr. Williams laughed and raised her hand so TJ could give her a triumphant high five.

Sam rolled his eyes.

"She asked," TJ said in a tone that was a little too innocent and a little smug at the same time.

"Well," said Dr. Williams, "I'd say that whatever happened earlier, you don't seem to have any serious lingering effects. You don't remember what happened?"

"Maybe I was sleepwalking?" TJ offered hopefully.

"Not likely. You were probably just confused. It happens with severe preeclampsia. I'm going to send you up for an MRI just to make sure it wasn't a mild seizure or a mild stroke."

She'd said it so matter-of-factly with that professional detachment that most doctors have, it took Sam a second to comprehend what she'd said. TJ looked stiff, all traces of the levity moments earlier gone.

"Your blood pressure has been higher than usual all morning, TJ. I want to know whether you had a seizure or a stroke because that could change things. If it was a seizure, there will probably be more."

"Does—" TJ's voice cut off, and she cleared her throat. "Does that mean that the anticonvulsive med has stopped working?"

"If you had a seizure, that's one scenario. The other is that you might have had a much worse seizure if you had not been on the med."

Sam tried to catch TJ's eye, but she was studiously avoiding him, her expression impassive, as if Dr. Williams' revelation wasn't that big of a deal.

"Is there anything that can be done?" he asked.

Dr. Williams let out a puff of air through her lips, stirring the slightly frizzy blond bangs on her forehead. "We can try changing the anticonvulsive med, but I wouldn't recommend it. We might wind up with one that is less effective. The one she's on so far has been working pretty well. If the episode this morning was a seizure, as I said, it looks like it was mild. Same if it was a stroke. But let's not go there until we know for sure. It's just as likely that she had a bout of confusion. It's a common symptom with preeclampsia. The oxygen being carried to the brain gets all out of whack because of the hypertension."

She looked from Sam to TJ. "I'm not really happy with the antihypertension med," she continued, "so I think we might try a different one, if you're willing. There's a risk, though, just like with the anticonvulsive med. We could end up with a medication that is less effective than the one you're on. So far, the one you're on now is no better or worse than the first one."

"As long as the drug is safe for the babies, I'm willing to try," said TJ.

Dr. Williams nodded. "All right. I'll put in the order and get it changed." She bent over TJ and lifted TJ's T-shirt sleeve, looking over the new PICC line dressing. Thankfully, the radiology technician said no real damage had been done when TJ tried to pull it out. She'd just irritated the skin around the site.

Dr. Williams seemed to be satisfied with what she saw and let go of TJ's sleeve. "Have you eaten anything today?"

TJ shook her head.

Dr. Williams looked troubled. "I know you're not going to like this, TJ, but I think we should try a feeding tube. The nutrients you're getting from the PPN are not enough to sustain you and the twins. If you can't keep anything down, we have to do something else."

Sam's heart sank. "There's no alternative to a feeding tube?"

"Well, we could switch her to TPN, total parenteral nutrition through an IV, but the feeding tube would be better. A feeding tube will keep her digestive track active, preventing atrophy."

TJ's mouth tightened in dismay, but she didn't protest. Sam knew it was a blow to her, though. She'd had a feeding tube after her esophageal surgery and hated it.

"I'll give it a try," she said bravely.

"We'll insert a nasogastric tube. It'll be less invasive than surgically inserting a tube into your stomach or small intestine, like I think you had before. The only drawback is that you'll have a tube sticking out of your nose."

TJ shrugged. "Whatever."

She was putting up a strong front, but Sam knew the frustration she must be feeling at this latest setback because he felt the same. How much more would she have to endure? She was like the female version of Job from the Bible, never catching a break.

"If I can't keep anything down, won't I just throw up the stuff from the feeding tube?"

Dr. Williams put a hand on TJ's shoulder. "I know it seems contraindicated, but feeding directly into your stomach will decrease the abdominal or sensory stimuli that cause nausea and vomiting. You should be able to keep everything down."

TJ snorted like she would believe it when she saw it. "So, what about the babies?" she asked, changing the subject. "Are you going to check to make sure they're okay? I don't think I fell this morning, but I don't know for sure."

Dr. Williams nodded. "I'll call for an ultrasound machine."

A half an hour later, TJ's rounded belly was covered in the gel used for the ultrasound, and the lights had been dimmed in the room to see the screen better. Dr. Williams rubbed the probe over TJ's belly, getting measurements and vitals.

Sam was amazed at how much bigger the babies were. They had been little peanuts when he'd first seen them. He glanced at TJ and was moved by the expression of pride, wonder, and pure love that was on her face.

"So, do you guys want to know the gender of the babies?"

"Yes!" TJ grinned at Sam. "I've been holdin' off to find out until you could be here. The suspense has been killing me."

"Well..." Dr. Williams typed in a command on the computer and turned the dial, changing the view of the babies, then spoke with a distracted smile. "...there's no doubt that Baby A is a girl."

Sam choked out an incredulous laugh, squeezing TJ's hand. She tore her gaze from the screen and looked at him, a smile of delight transforming her face into a work of art.

Dr. Williams was oblivious to what Sam and TJ had just shared and kept talking. "Your little girl isn't shy."

TJ laughed. "She must have some of the same Winchester genes as her Uncle Dean."

Sam grimaced. "God, I hope not."

Just then, there was a knock on the door.

"Come in," said TJ.

Dean walked in.

"Hm, speak of the devil," said Dr. Williams.

Sam stiffened. Not even the excitement of learning he and TJ were having a daughter could completely erase the anger he still harbored toward Dean. TJ frowned at his reaction and then glanced at Dean.

Dean shut the door behind him and approached the side of the bed where Sam was. "Ah, the lights are out and Sam is in the room with two lovely ladies." He clapped Sam on the shoulder. "Am I interrupting something?" he teased.

Sam clenched his jaw, annoyed.

"Three lovely ladies," TJ corrected. "We just found out one of the babies is a girl."

Dean moved to where he could reach TJ and gave her a hug, the million-watt Dean Winchester smile on his face. "That's awesome." Then he gripped the nape of Sam's neck and gave it a gruff squeeze. "Congratulations."

"Thanks," Sam said flatly and leaned forward a fraction. Dean got the hint and let go of Sam's neck, but Sam didn't miss the look of apology TJ shot to Dean.

Dr. Williams glided the probe over TJ's belly again and turned the dial on the computer. She tilted her head to one side, her mouth quirking in concentration, as several angles of the babies flashed across the screen. "Well," she said after a moment, "looks like Baby B isn't so cooperative. Its legs are crossed. Unlike Baby A, he or she must be a little bashful."

Dean snorted. "Must be a prude like Sam."

Dr. Williams and TJ both grinned, but then remorse and regret flashed across TJ's face when she saw that Sam wasn't amused. She squeezed his hand twice and raised her brows in a pointed look, as if trying to tell him that he needed to lighten up.

She had explained to him that it was all her fault, that Dean wanted to tell him everything from the get-go. But it didn't matter whose fault it was in Sam's opinion. The end result was the same. He had trusted Dean completely to be his eyes and ears when it came to TJ and never doubted for a second that Dean would let him know if something went wrong. But Dean hadn't. In fact, he flat-out lied to Sam when they talked on the phone. Dean's betrayal went deep. If Sam couldn't trust Dean, who could he trust?

"Look, y'all," said TJ, excited. "The mystery baby is sucking its thumb."

"Huh," said Dean. He bent forward, arms folded, and watched with hypnotic interest, the glow of the screen illuminating his features. "I didn't know babies could do stuff like that. I mean, you know, before they were born."

Dr. Williams nodded. "Oh, yeah. They do all kinds of things—suck their thumbs, get the hiccups, drink amniotic fluid and pee it out."

"Good times," said Dean.

Dr. Williams chuckled. "At this stage in development, they can hear, too. They may already know TJ's voice."

"So everything looks okay?" asked TJ.

"Yeah." Dr. Williams shook her head in amazement. "Despite everything, they're thriving. The corticosteroid probably has something to do with it, but the fact that they seem unaffected by the preeclampsia is a miracle. The blood supply to the placentas appears to be as it should be, and the babies' growth rate is perfect. Their heartbeats are strong and nothing seems off kilter from the episode this morning."

Dean frowned. "What episode?"

TJ reluctantly told him about Sam finding her on the floor, and then Dr. Williams patiently explained again what she thought happened and how she was going to change the course of TJ's treatment.

Sam only registered snippets of the conversation. All he could do was stare at the ultrasound screen. He knew he should be relieved that everything was going right with the twins, but as he watched their tiny hearts beating, all he could think was that those hearts beat with blood that could be tainted with his demon blood. He knew he shouldn't think it, that TJ would be furious and disappointed in him, but he couldn't help it.

It was like the babies were sucking the life out of her.

What else could explain why they kept growing and were so healthy while TJ's condition deteriorated with each passing hour? It was like the bigger they got, the sicker she got. The thought distressed him on so many levels. He wanted the babies and was beginning to love them, but, if he was right, if they were cursed with the evil that Yellow Eyes had put in him, maybe it was better that they didn't survive. What kind of life would they have?

His chest constricted and it was suddenly hard to breathe.

"Sam?" It was TJ, intuitive as ever where he was concerned. She squeezed his hand. "Are you okay?"

He had forgotten they were even still holding hands. His arms and hands felt strangely heavy and almost as numb as the paralyzed part of his body. He wrested his hand from her grasp and gripped his wheels. "Yeah. Yeah. I, uh...I just need, uh, some coffee. I'll be back."

He knew no one was buying it. Even Dr. Williams looked concerned, but he didn't care. He swiveled his chair away from TJ's bed and managed to get out the door before anyone could stop him.

XXXXXXXX

Another week and a half later, things had gone from bad to worse. TJ's kidneys were in full-on failure and she had to do what they hoped would be temporary dialysis treatments three times a week. She had developed fluid in her lungs because of the kidney failure and was often short of breath, even though she hadn't been out of bed in days. Still, she didn't complain.

She was quiet most of the time and didn't say much of anything. Sam wasn't sure if it was because she felt crappy and just didn't want to talk or if it was because she was afraid she would say something that didn't make sense. The MRI confirmed that she did not have a seizure the morning he found her on the floor, but the possibility that it could still happen—or worse, a stroke—was constantly hanging over their heads. She'd had more bouts of confusion, and it was embarrassing for her and painful for everyone else to watch.

To top it all off, she now had a roommate, another maternity patient who wailed and whined all the time while her browbeaten husband ran to do her bidding. Sam kept the privacy curtain around TJ's bed pulled where they couldn't see the woman, but there was nothing he could do about the noise—the constant litany of complaints or the TV that was on twenty-four/seven, usually with the Home and Garden Network on. Sam had inadvertently heard almost every rerun of Curb Appeal and House Hunters ten times, their annoyingly cheery hosts and background music driving him up the wall.

Fern and Vern had arrived a week ago in time for Christmas and tried to make the best of things, joking around and basically just being there for Sam and TJ. Fern, Vern, Dean, Heather, and Sam all celebrated Christmas with TJ in the hospital, but, as usual, it had sucked, just like pretty much every Christmas in Sam's life except for the last one. He had proposed to TJ last year, but, technically, it wasn't really on Christmas. It was a few days after. Dean had been in the hospital on Christmas Day last year with pneumonia, so it still wasn't the greatest of holidays.

This year, they all pretended everything was fine and exchanged gifts. Everyone was falsely cheerful, pretending that TJ's head wasn't killing her and that it was perfectly normal that her Christmas dinner was nutritional formula through a feeding tube in her nose instead of the turkey and dressing Fern cooked and brought in for everyone else to eat—at TJ's insistence, of course.

Fern and Vern had been awestruck by the ultrasound pictures TJ showed them of the twins, but Sam saw the sadness mixed with worry that crossed Fern's features before she covered it with a beaming smile, telling TJ how beautiful the babies were. Sam had told them out of TJ's hearing how serious things were, how sick she was (as if they couldn't see it for themselves), how Dr. Williams might have to deliver the babies early and that they probably wouldn't survive.

The dialysis helped with TJ's swelling, but the more the swelling went down, the more fragile and gaunt she looked. There was no radiant, pregnant glow for TJ. She was slowly but surely withering away more with each passing day.

Everyone—TJ's parents, Dean, Heather, Gretchen, the nurses, and even Dr. Williams—tried to get Sam to go home and rest for a few hours in a real bed, but there was no way he would leave TJ. It wasn't that he didn't trust them to watch out for her and keep her company. It was that he was afraid to let her out of his sight after the incident where he'd found her on the floor by her bed. Every time he was away from her, something bad happened.

He at least allowed TJ to talk him into wearing his braces more. Standing up in his braces was the only time he ever really got to straighten out his long body, since the vinyl sleep chair they'd brought in and placed near her bed was hardly like a real bed. It was about four feet too short for him and only adequate when he was ready to drop from exhaustion.

He was tired, worried, and short-tempered. He fought a constant battle not to snap at everyone he came into contact with—everyone except TJ. Her, he treated like a delicate piece of china. He couldn't deny her anything, not that she asked for much. The only thing he would have said no to was if she'd asked him to go home, and she never suggested it. It was like she knew not to bother.

TJ's parents and Dean were there now, her mom sitting on the edge of the bed, Vern sitting in the sleep chair, and Dean in a plastic chair someone had brought in. Sam had his braces on under his jeans and was balancing on his crutches near the head of TJ's bed, watching over her like a sentinel while she and her parents laughed at something asinine that Dean said. Sam wasn't participating in the conversation and had no desire to.

Ivy came in and skirted around Dean, who scooted his chair out of her way. She was standing on the opposite side of the bed from Sam, and she looked up at him and shook her head. "Mm, mm, mm. You're too damn tall, boy." Ivy was a big woman, but she was several inches shorter than Sam—even with her hair weaves piled high on her head in an elaborate updo. Her rich voice that always seemed to fill every inch of the room softened. "I hope your face don't freeze with that scowl on it, honey."

"That's Sammy," said Dean sarcastically. "Always a barrel of laughs."

Sam ground his teeth in irritation.

Vern peered at Sam dubiously with his shrewd, bright-blue eyes, which were made even brighter by their contrast with his weathered, sun-darkened skin. He had short, gray hair and kind of reminded Sam of a picture he'd once seen of Will Rogers.

"Whoo-wee, son," said Vern. "I wouldn't wanna meet up with you in a dark alley."

"Give him a break, y'all," Ferna Sue admonished. "You'd be grouchy too if you'd been sleepin' on that thing for a week." Her eyes indicated the sleep chair.

Sam had nothing to say and turned his attention back to Ivy, watching as she checked TJ's vitals. Ivy always kept her expression professionally aloof, but Sam had noticed that she tightened her mouth almost imperceptibly whenever there was something she didn't like. She was doing it now as she listened to TJ's chest with a stethoscope. "Take some deep breaths for me, baby."

TJ inhaled and exhaled a few times as deeply as she could. Sam could hear the bubbling, crackling sound of her lungs from where he stood.

"You having more trouble breathing?"

"No."

Ivy gave her the gimlet eye.

"Maybe a little," TJ corrected. "Why?"

"The fluid sounds worse, and your pulse ox is lower."

TJ's head sank back into her pillow. "Oh."

Ivy donned her unreadable expression again. "We'll see what Dr. Williams says."

Everyone sat in silence, either wondering what it meant and afraid to ask or, like Sam, knowing that Dr. Williams would probably put TJ on oxygen. He wondered how that would work with the nasogastric tube. She'd had the thin, clear, narrow tube over a week now, taped to the side of her cheek. It looked kind of like a stray rice noodle randomly sticking out of her nose when it wasn't in use. He didn't think it did much good, although at least she was able to keep the formula down. She just kept getting worse, though, no matter what Dr. Williams tried. And the babies kept thriving.

Ivy spoke with authority. "All right. I need you-all to leave for a while. Go get you some lunch. Baby and I got some things we need to take care of." Ivy never called TJ by her name anymore. She had practically adopted her and rechristened her "Baby." She started preparing a bag of nutritional formula to hook up to TJ's feeding tube.

Fern gave Ivy a faint smile. She never seemed annoyed by Ivy's familiarity with her daughter and got along well with the sassy nurse.

Fern was a slight woman in her fifties with blond hair cut in a puffy bob. It was always heavily sprayed, never a hair out of place, and sometimes looked a little like a helmet. She leaned over and kissed TJ on the forehead.

Everyone got up then, and Dean gently gripped TJ's wrist. "I gotta go back to work, but you owe me a rematch—soon. This time Texas hold 'em."

She smiled. "You sure you want another ass-kickin'?"

Dean arched his brows. "Beginner's luck."

She laughed softly.

Vern squeezed TJ's big toe through the hospital blanket. "See you in a little bit, Little Bit."

"'Kay, Daddy." She looked and sounded so young, so vulnerable. She was pale, and her freckles made it look like someone had sprinkled cinnamon across her nose and cheekbones.

Sam stared at the mound of her belly under the blanket and felt a twisting ache in his gut. Everyone walked out and he was the only one left, but he couldn't seem to make his body move. He could hear the theme song to Curb Appeal in the background and TJ's roommate bitching about something.

"You too, Redwood," Ivy prodded. She called him "Redwood" after the gigantic California redwood trees.

TJ shifted her legs restlessly and turned a little onto her side. "Go eat with them, Sam. I'll be okay."

He looked at Ivy. "I'll be waiting outside."

TJ rolled her eyes. "Might as well get him a feeding tube, too."

"I will if he don't get out of here," Ivy threatened. She was waiting to connect the feeding tube to the formula tubing until he left because she knew, as did he, that TJ didn't like anyone to see. It really wasn't that big of a deal. It wasn't gross or anything, but TJ was sometimes particular about things like that.

"I'll be back," he said to her.

"Okay. Get some food," she ordered.

He reluctantly turned to leave. The muted thud of his crutches hitting the floor and the shuffle of his feet as he swung them through made a steady rhythm. When he emerged into the hallway, he looked up from his feet to see Dean, Vern, and Fern all waiting for him. He was unreasonably annoyed. "Why did you wait for me?"

"Well, son," said Vern, "where I come from, it's called bein' polite."

Sam realized he was being a dick and ducked his head. "I'm sorry."

Fern squeezed his arm, a worried look on her face.

Sam wanted to shout at her that he wasn't the one she should be worried about. Instead, he forced himself to speak civilly. "Thank you for waiting, but I'll just stay here until Ivy is finished with TJ." He shifted his weight on his crutches, feeling his arms and shoulders getting fatigued. He'd been standing for a while.

Dean was scowling. "Go eat, Sam. You need a break."

Sam clenched his jaw, not in the mood for Dean's big brother crap. "I thought you were going back to work."

"I am. As soon as you go with Fern and Vern to get something to eat."

"The cafeteria is too far away to go on crutches and I don't have my chair."

"Then go get it," Dean retorted.

Sam's temper snapped. "Don't fucking tell me what to do, Dean. You lost that right."

Ferna Sue and Vern looked taken aback.

Dean's jaw hardened. "How long you gonna hold it against me, Sammy?"

"As long as I feel like it, Dean," Sam ground out. "As long as I fucking feel like it."

TBC

A/N: Remember folks, next chapter will be posted TOMORROW. Sam will finally have it out with Dean...