Chapter 2

Dean

This was the most God-awful thing I have ever watched in my life. Seeing Grace in the pain that she was in killed me. There was, of course, absolutely nothing that I could do to help her except stand next to her, letting her lean on me while contractions ripped through her. The whiskey was wearing off and all I was left with was the cold reality that we would have two babies when this was all over.

The machine next to Grace's bed hinted that another contraction was coming; the green line climbing up the screen once again. She was standing, leaning on the bed, face down. I debated not even telling her, but as soon as the thought entered my brain, she turned. "Always tell me," she said, gritting her teeth. "At least it gives me a chance to prepare."

I nodded, "Sorry, honey." Turning her body, she leaned her arms across my shoulders and hung, trying to breathe through the contraction as best she could. I held her around her back while she breathed and puffed, trying to keep control as much as she could. Suddenly, she extended her arm and forced mine down to my side. "What are you doing?" Without speaking, she slammed her hand down on The Mark of Cain and breathed out the lungful of air she held. "Does it help?"

I watched the monitor as the green line peaked and began its fall down the screen. Slowly, she looked up at me and smiled lightly. "Not a lot, but it's noticeable." I wiped the hair out of her face and smiled.

"Good, at least I can do something."

Turning towards the bed, she gingerly sat down, breathing out slowly as she did. "Don't you think you've done enough?" she said, smiling lightly.

I stood, facing her, my hands touching her hair and face, unwilling to stop. "Probably." Leaning her head into my stomach, she rested as we waited for the next contraction, still at least four minutes away. "We need to figure out names."

"Yeah, we're cutting it a little close this time, huh?"

I chuckled. "I do like Baby Girl Winchester, you know."

"Aw, Baby Girl," Grace said, smiling. "And Baby Boy."

I smiled to myself, nodding. "I keep forgetting about that second one." I chuckled again to myself. "A boy. What the hell am I going to do with a boy?"

"I would have thought that you would have been more concerned with a second girl." Grace said, still trying to get comfortable. "You're going to be a great boy-dad. Teach him to work on the cars."

That was the least of my worries. My biggest fear was my kids turning to hunting as a life choice…growing up like we did, never really having a home. Then I worried about becoming my father constantly; thinking that I would end up a dictator, like he was, rather than a supporter like I knew Grace would be. I knew she was reading my mind, because she sat up, lifting her head away from my stomach to look at me.

"You are not your father, Dean."

"Not yet," I said, lifting my eyebrows. "I haven't had a boy to make the transformation yet."

She was already shaking her head, disagreeing with my sentiment. "You're just not your father. You love Liberty more than anything and I know these two are going to get the same love and devotion that you have for her. You're different, Dean. You're so much better."

The machine beeped behind me and Grace rolled her eyes, preparing for the next contraction. As it began to build, she reached for my arm again, The Mark glowing slightly under her touch. "Don't forget to breathe, Gracie," I said, watching the screen. The green line hadn't begun to make its fall down the screen and I rubbed Grace's back while I watched it continue to climb. This was the worst one yet.

Grace grunted slightly, pulling herself off the bed and leaning into me. "Breathe, honey," I repeated, still watching the green line continue to climb. "Grace, breathe." She let out the gasp of air she had taken, moments before and shifting her position, she let out a gasp of pain, breaking her calm.

Looking up at me, Grace had tears in her eyes and was shaking her head. "I can't do this naturally," she said on the verge of losing it completely. "I can't handle any more pain."

"Grace," I began, taking my wife by her shoulders, "you can handle the pain. You've taken on way more than this and you know it. This is a walk in the park." She was still shaking her head, still on the edge. "Grace, look at me." She flicked her blue eyes towards mine and furrowed her eyebrows, waiting. "Dig deep, baby. This is just a means to an end. When this is over, you get to watch me struggle with three kids."

She smiled lightly, then, and I knew I had her. "We're gonna need a new car," she whispered, curling into the next contraction. I nodded to myself more than anyone. Three infant seats weren't gonna fit in the fucking Chevelle.

...

For the next six hours or so, I was in and out of the room, updating Serra and Sam on what was happening during labor. Grace was rising to the occasion, just as I knew she would, using The Mark as a crutch when she needed to. As we got closer to delivery, Serra came into the room and said, "We're getting close. You need to grab a soda or something. The hard part is coming."

I made a face at my sister-in-law and shook my head. "I'm fine. If she can't take a break, I'm not taking a break."

Smiling slightly, Serra pointed to the door. "Okay, then just go talk to Sammy for a minute or something. I wanna talk to my sister."

Grace looked up at Serra, "I don't know how much actual conversation—" she gasped, pulling herself forward again, in the grips of another contraction.

"Yeah, I know, but just go with it." Serra glanced at me again and motioned with her head. I rolled my eyes and walked out of the room, headed for Sammy. Turning back towards Grace, Serra used the washcloth that was next to the bed to wipe the sweat from Grace's forehead. "Doctor says nine centimeters. Close, huh?" Grace nodded, unable to really form words. "You're doing really well, Gracie. Focus on telling me what names you guys picked."

Breathing out slowly and finally able to lean back for a second, Grace smiled. "We haven't really finalized them yet," she said.

"Yeah, neither have we." Serra smiled. "We like Levi for a boy's name."

Grace nodded as she squeezed her eyes shut. "That's a good one," she grunted.

"Will we need a girl's name?"

Through the contraction, Grace laughed. "Is this you asking the sex of the baby?"

Serra petted Grace's hair absentmindedly, gripping her hand with the other. "Maybe."

"Thought you didn't want to know," Grace whispered, still struggling to get through the contraction. She leaned forward and brought her legs down from the bed, trying to find a comfortable spot.

"Maybe I do. What are you doing?"

Grace glanced up at her sister, red in the face and sweating. "Trying to find a place that I can sit or stand that doesn't feel like I'm being torn in half."

"Is it that bad?"

Grace didn't hesitate. "Yes."

"Tell me."

"Boy."

Serra stared at her sister as a grin slowly spread across her face. "Think of your happy place," she said, patting Grace lightly on the back. "Think happy thoughts."

"Oh, shut up. You're no help. Go get Dean."

Serra bounded out of the room and moments later, a nurse came in, followed closely by Dean. "Hey, honey," the nurse said, "looks like you're close! Let's get a doctor in here to check if you're ready to push."

I grinned at my wife, hands out. "Hey! You get to push small children out of a hole this big now!" Raising my eyebrows, I knew I'd get a look from Grace, but she was concentrating so hard that she didn't even look up. I did everything I could not to let myself get caught up in Grace's emotions…she was in a lot of pain, and that killed me, but knowing that it would be over soon was semi-comforting.

The doctor came in, suited for business and sat at the end of the bed. "Okay, Grace! Let's check." She leaned forward and smiled. "Let's have some babies."