Disclaimer: I don't own anything Supernatural or whatnot, it is all property of the CW11 network and the Kripke. So don't sue and please don't be offended by the language cause it's gonna be colorful to say the least.
Chapter 12
Bobby Singer couldn't help help but wince and wish he could control the ability to hear with his ears so that he could block out the sounds that were now echoing throughout his entire house.
Bobby wished with all his heart that he could turn his hearing on and off at will.
Anything to block out the sounds of Sam Winchester in the full and terrible hold of morning sickness.
The poor boy was currently in the process of heaving his guts out in the bathroom Bobby's house had on the ground floor near the living room.
To his chagrin Bobby couldn't help but think that Sam was about one heave short of actually coughing up a full lung at this point.
Not being able to stand the sight of Sam with his head almost inside the bowl of the toilet Bobby bent down and let his hands come to rest over the younger Winchester brother's tense and slight sweaty back.
The seasoned hunter felt a cruel tug at his heart strings when he heard a plaintiff sob escape Sam.
" Is the worst of it over?" Bobby asked softly.
There was no immediate answer at first just the sound of hitched breath being inhaled and exhaled.
Then finally a soft whisper came.
" Y-Yeah that was the worst of it." Said Sam before with a final spit into the bowl he reached up and flushed the foul contents it held.
Then with a small groan Sam pushed himself up or tried to at least.
All the upchucking had left the young man completely spent and wobbling.
Bobby acted fast and help Sam get to his feet albeit momentarily before he swiftly closed the lid on the toilet seat and firmly eased Sam to sit down onto it.
Sam gave very little resistant and found himself just to depleted of energy to care that Bobby was silently bossing him around.
The young man vaguely heard the sound of a faucet's squeak and water running from a tap.
Then the next thing Sam knew something cool and wet was being pressed to the back of his neck.
Sam turned his head and looked up to see Bobby standing over him.
He couldn't help but feel a rush of warmth flood through him as he realized that the older man was pressing a damp washcloth to his skin in an effort to sooth his torment.
" Thanks Bobby." Whispered Sam as he sent a pitifully wane attempt at a smile the older Hunter's way.
" Don't mention it boy." Said Bobby quietly as he began lightly wiping at the slightly flushed and sweaty skin at the back of Sam's neck with the wet washcloth, trying his best to be as gentle and soothing as he could.
Sam let a shaky sigh escape him as he basked in Bobby's soothing ministrations and presence.
They stayed that way for countless minutes.
Bobby wiping at Sam's neck and Sam trying to keep himself from vomiting any further because there really wasn't much left in his stomach to throw up.
After a good twenty minutes had passed by Bobby thought it best to ask.
" Sam, you think you can stand?"
" Y-Yeah Bobby. I think I'm okay now." Answered Sam.
With Bobby's steadying hand on his arm Sam slowly and carefully rose from his seat on the toilet lid and got up onto slightly unsteady feet.
Together the two made a slow and shaky procession out of Bobby Singer's bathroom.
They made a b-line through the kitchen and into Bobby's living room where Sam promptly collapse in a boneless heap on of the ratty sofas.
Sam dimly noticed that bobby had disappeared from his side and the young man vaguely wondered where his pseudo-uncle had gone off to.
He was just about to let his eyes flutter shut and give in to the exhaustion that always came after every bout of morning sickness when San caught the sound of approaching footsteps.
Hazel green eyes looked up to see the man in the baseball cap coming to stand over him with some items in his hands.
" Here, these will help settle your stomach." Said Bobby quietly as he held out his offering.
A glass of ginger ale and small plate full of lightly salted crackers.
With some effort Sam pushed himself up until he was sitting with his back against the arm of the sofa before he carefully took the offered items.
" Thank you Bobby." Said Sam with his voice all but a whispered.
" Don't mention it boy, just eat those and take it easy." Sighed Bobby before he reached out and squeezed Sam's shoulder in a comforting manner.
Then with a small nod the older hunter left the young man to his own musing, knowing that Sam always wanted some space after one of his bouts of vomiting.
And so, Sam found himself alone in Bobby's living room with the distant sounds of the other man bustling about in the kitchen.
As he slowly munched on a salt-cracker Sam found himself correcting his previous thought.
No, he wasn't alone.
He was never alone these days.
He did have a baby growing inside him.
Three weeks along now.
Almost a month.
As he took a small sip of ginger ale Sam felt a small lance of pain shoot through his heart as he contemplates the amount of time that had passed since he'd calculated the time in which he'd become pregnant.
It had been a week since Dean had left.
One long and painful week filled with uncertainty and a few short and sporadic phone calls.
Sitting there in Bobby's living room Sam felt his mind wander to his big brother.
He wondered what Dean was doing right now where he most likely was.
In town, at the boarding house Bobby's friend owned.
For now all Sam could do was sit and wonder with a feeling of helplessness settling over him.
He really wanted Dean to come back.
As soon as possible.
With a sigh Sam settled in deeper into the couch and quietly finished off the crackers and ginger ale.
The combination really did work at settling his queasy stomach.
And speaking of a certain older brother...
There was a low humming sound coming from the radiator as it began it's cycle of heating the room.
An old repeat of I Love Lucy was playing on the T.V.
The voices were muddled and distant sounding.
On the single queen-sized bed lay the room one and only occupant.
His dulled green eyes stared unseeingly up at the beige colored ceiling.
The only factor disproving that this individual was not a corpse already was the steady rise and fall of his chest with each breath his lungs took in and exhaled.
Dean Winchester laid there on the bed with only his own personal torment as company. It was a chronic torment that had been plaguing him for a good long week now.
Torment brought about by the memories of what he'd been made to do my that accursed succubus demon.
With a small sigh Dean slowly rolled onto his side so that his back was to the window and the morning light pouring in through it.
Dean resisted the urge to curl up into a ball and instead focused all of his attention into not reliving the events of that night three weeks ago.
However, his efforts proved to be nothing more than a waste of time as his mind played out the memories before his eyes like some perverse old fashioned film-reel.
The pale face and cruel red eyes of the demon smiling at him with malice as her fingers dug into his skull.
The heat of her demonic power coursing through his whole body, filling him with an unholy desire.
Pounding on his unsuspecting prey and pinning him to the floor with crazed strength.
Sam's face filled with terror in it's purest form as he stared up at him.
Sam voice high and hysterical as he pleaded for him to stop touching him like that.
To stop hurting him.
The heat filling his head, making him deaf to his baby brother's beseeching.
The sensations of him entering his brother's body.
Violating it.
Defiling it.
He himself enjoying the pleasure that naturally came with being connected that way with anyone.
Sam's screams of pain and climax.
His vision tunneling.
Everything fading to black.
With a gasp Dean's eyes flew open and he jack-knifed the upper part of his body off the bed.
Dean sucked in huge lung fulls of air in an effort to calm his racing heart.
But, no matter how loud his heartbeat pounded inside his chest, it could not drown out the echoes of his memories.
The long past sounds of his brothers pleas and his screams of pain were louder than his heartbeat ever could be.
Dean clenched his jaw so tightly it hurt. His teeth grinding together inside his mouth.
" God, what I wouldn't give for a date with old JD." Thought Dean.
This wasn't the first time that Dean had thought of the strong brands of alcohols, like Jack Daniels.
Hell, his first couple of days here at the boarding house Bobby's friend Rose Perkins operated were spent guzzling down as much liquor he could find in an effort to drown in his sorrows and keep the horrors of what happened to him and Sam at bay.
Now though Dean only thought about the drink.
He couldn't bring himself to get up and find some, knowing that he'd cause trouble to Rose and damage himself more.
He'd sobered up from his drinking binge quickly when Rose herself had found him nearly passed out on the floor drunk. She and her husband Joe had kept him from drowning in his own vomit and nursed him back to some semblance of health.
After that he'd woken up one morning to find his room stripped on all alcoholic substances.
He had thanked Rose and Joe for that.
Dean took in a final, deep rattling breath through his nostrils and and slumped backwards until the headboard of the bed stopped any further descent.
Let his chin droop down towards his chest Dean reached up and scratched at the dark stubble that graced his cheeks.
He was well on his way to having a full beard.
The noise of the room finally caught Dean's ear.
The sounds of Lucille Ball and the unseen TV audience in the background were like nails against a chalkboard to the miserable young man.
Eyes hardening with annoyance, Dean snatched up the remote control from where in rested on the nightstand and turned the damn thing off.
Silence finally filled the room.
Licking his suddenly dry lips Dean slowly turned and maneuvered his legs over the side of the mattress so that he was sitting over the edge of the bed.
As the sunlight that streamed in through the window bathed him in it's warmth, Dean felt something inside him finally break.
And he did something he hadn't allowed himself to do eversince he'd gotten to the Perkins's boarding house.
He let himself give in to his sorrow.
He just let go of everything.
He let himself cry for the first time since he'd find out about this entire mess.
For the first time in seven days he felt himself grow somewhat free as sobs wracked his entire body.
Sitting there bathed in golden light.
He let go.