Born of Ill Intent.
Please read warnings in chapter one.
Chapter Eight.
Sam swallowed, nervously. "Ready as I'll ever be, I guess."
Dean squeezed his shoulder reassuringly, and headed over to admit the doc.
It was snowing heavily outside and a strong, cold wind had struck up. When Dean opened the door, he received a face full of the stuff, leaving him spluttering and breathless.
"Hey doc," he choked out, blinking away the large, melting flakes from his eyes. "How was the journey?"
William grinned widely, revealing a set of perfect white teeth that almost seemed to glow against the backdrop of his ebony coloured skin.
"Challenging," he answered, decisively. "And let me tell you, travelling at a hundred miles an hour on ice-packed roads in a snow storm? Take it from me. Make sure you have a change of underwear 'cos it can get real hairy out there."
Dean chuckled and stepped back to make way for the doc. "C'mon in before you freeze like a popsickle."
William held up a finger. "Just one second."
He reached up and brushed off the building layer of snow from the top of his afro and gave his head a shake, sending a shower of white over the veranda.
"There," he said, more than satisfied. "Just caught a glimpse of my reflection in the window; looked like a pint of Guinness with eyeballs. Sam's been through enough of late as it is without me scaring him senseless."
His gaze landed on the patient in that moment, and his smile softened. Sam was watching him carefully from over the back of the sofa, instinctively searching for signs of a threat.
Keeping his body language casual and movements slow, the doc stepped inside and closed the door behind him.
"Hey man, can I get you anything? Coffee? Something stronger?" asked Dean, quietly. Poor guy had driven a long way, after all.
"No thanks. Maybe later," said William, setting his medical kit on the floor while still maintaining eye contact with his patient.
Sensing his input wasn't required for now, Dean kept silent and more or less allowed himself to fade into the background, at the same time making sure Sammy knew he was still there for him.
"How you feeling, son?" asked William, while unzipping his coat and hanging it on the coat stand by the door.
Sam nervously rose up off the sofa. "Ok, I guess," he replied, warily, eyeing the doc with trepidation. "All things considered."
The doc nodded. "Well, you sure seem healthy enough," he said with another reassuring smile. "Is it ok if I examine you, just to be on the safe side?"
Sam looked uncertain, but at Dean's encouraging nod he reluctantly agreed.
He stepped away from the sofa, hoisted himself up onto his bed opposite the fire, and screwed his eyes shut.
The doc was gentle and respectful to his patient at all times, even during some of the more intimate examinations. Dean turned his back at those points, to afford his brother some privacy, and set about brewing some coffee. The doc might not have needed any, but Dean felt he could sure use a caffeine load.
"Well, everything looks fine, Sam," said William, half an hour later. "You've healed nicely all over. That's great news."
Sam heaved a sigh. "I feel a 'but' coming on."
William winced in sympathy. "Yeah. Uh... Bobby told me pretty much what the deal is here. I'm sure you're aware that I'm not experienced at dealing with pregnancies in general, let alone the more... exotic varieties." He huffed a little in bewilderment, and scratched at an ear. "But hell, man! Male pregnancy? Bobby practically blew me away when he let that one out of the bag!"
Sam just stared at him forlornly. "I'm the guy who's pregnant and you're the one freaking out." He sighed again, in despair. "That's just great."
William sat down next to him on the bed. "Well, it's not every day a doctor comes across a medical marvel like you," he said, with a twinkle in his eye, and gave Sam a friendly nudge. "I could make a fortune out of this!"
Sam's chuckle was reluctant but genuine. "Yeah, I guess so." He blew out a breath and seemed to pull himself together. "So doc, how're we gonna handle this? Please tell me you have some ideas."
The doc inwardly winced at the hopeful expression on the kid's face, but smiled reassuringly. "I have some theories, but we're gonna have to try a few things out first."
Dean stepped in at this point. No one was carrying out experiments on his little brother without his say so.
"Like what?" he asked, sharply.
Seeing the older brother's concern and having already witnessed his protectiveness towards Sam, William decided honesty was the best policy if he wanted to keep his nose in the middle of his face where it belonged.
"Before I elaborate," he said, glancing from one sibling to the other, "I need you to understand something."
Dean nodded, but still looked wary. "Go on."
"This is hit and miss, ya'll understand that, right?" said the doc, still eyeing the brothers. "Whatever we try carries a risk. I'm not gonna lie to you. Anything can happen, and anything can go wrong. I make no promises to my patients under usual circumstances, so there's no way in hell I'm gonna make any under these. Do we understand each other?"
Dean turned away, hands on hips, and Sam could feel the helpless anger and fear just rolling off him.
"Ok, I get that," said Sam.
The doc nodded. "What I will tell you both, is this," he said, and waited until Dean was looking his way again. "I will give you my all. I will do my very best to keep you alive, throughout this. I will fight for you, Sam, and I won't give up. Your life comes first, before that child you carry, before anything, or anybody else. Now that is the one promise I am prepared to make to the both of you. But while nothing in life carries a guarantee, I'm gonna need you to trust me."
They all remained silent for a short time as the brothers took that in. And then Sam nodded his acceptance, while Dean cleared his throat, his eyes suspiciously bright as he gazed back at William.
"I trust you," he said, hoarsely. "He's my little brother, the only thing I've got left of any value in this world, but I trust you."
"Well then," said William. "We have several options..."
They weren't exactly ground breaking. The first option was to place Sam under a general anaesthetic from the moment labour became imminent, while the second was to use a local anaesthetic. Epidural, gas and air was the third.
"B-but," Sam spluttered, anxiously. "Those are all standard procedures!"
William nodded. "Yep. All standard for normal caesarean sections."
Dean leapt on the panic wagon. "In case you hadn't noticed? Nothing about this is normal!"
William held up his hands, palms out. "Yeah, I'm aware of that, Dean, but what else would you suggest? Sam can't give birth conventionally so a c-section is the only choice. It's just a question of pain management."
"Ohshitohshitohshit!" said Sam, under his breath and, unnoticed by the other two, began quietly hyperventilating. "Ohhhhnonononono..."
"How do we know that won't piss it off and kill Sam anyway?" Dean demanded to know, unaware of Sam's startled glance in his direction. "If it's that close to singing 'Happy birthday to me', it's got nothing to lose, right?"
"Look, look, look," said William, trying to defuse the situation. "From what Bobby told me, it will go to term unless it feels threatened. Sedation should just send Sam to sleep and, in theory, not send any danger messages to the infant. But there's only one way to find out."
Sam's gazed snapped back to his, along with Dean's.
"Which is?" said Dean, a shade sarcastically.
"We give it a try with a weak dose," the doctor replied, somewhat hesitantly, and when the brothers stared at him in horror he added: "We're shooting in the dark here, guys. It's trial and error time."
"Did you remember the milk and eggs?"
Bobby raised an eyebrow and jerked his chin at the huge box in the rear seat. "A whole herd of cows and an entire hen house went into action for this."
Patch grinned and slammed the door shut. "That should keep us going for a day or two."
"Huh," Bobby grunted, looking worried. "If we're lucky. Poor kid's hungry round the clock right now."
Patch's smile faded. "Maybe we should get more."
The two men stood in a doubting silence, mentally counting out the groceries.
Ten pounds of lean mince beef.
Ten whole chickens.
Two shoulders and two whole legs of lamb.
Several pounds of BBQ marinated pork ribs, belly slices and trotters.
Several thick, juicy steaks.
Three packs of smoked kippers – Patch's favourite, much to Bobby's disgust.
A selection of frozen fish fillets.
Five dozen eggs.
A whole wheel of extra mature cheddar cheese - when Patch and Bobby were just pulling up outside the store, Sam had called with the news that he had developed his first absolute craving. "Cheese. Oh, and grapes. And could you get me some celery?" Followed by the sound of Dean's disgusted protests coming through loud and clear in the background. This had culminated in a second trip back inside the store, much to the astonishment of the sales assistant, who was starting to feel rather put upon.
Bobby scratched the back of his head and continued checking over their goods...
Ten gallons of whole milk.
Two gallons of cream.
Three large boxes of loose leaf tea and several packets of freshly ground coffee. Decaf, of course – Last thing Sam needed right then was stimulants.
Five pounds of sugar – Demerara, not white (white sugar made Sam sick for some reason).
Ten pounds of carrots, potatoes, and various other leguminous vegetables.
Around a ton of apples, oranges, bananas, and various woodland berries.
Ten loaves of fresh baked bread, and five large packs of unsalted butter.
And, to everyone's dismay, silver skin pickled onions and extra hot wasabi sauce.
Mixed together. The result of yet another craving, logged by yet another call from Sam a couple of minutes into the shopping trip.
The only item that seemed out of place might have been the Reader's Digest Book entitled Pregnancy and Your Body, bought from a second hand book store when Bobby had been passing by on his way back to the truck.
"Orange juice," said Patch. "Freshly squeezed."
Bobby rolled his eyes and stalked off, to re-emerge from the store a few minutes later with several cartons of the stuff.
He dumped his load on the rear seat next to the box of eggs.
The two men looked at each other.
"You forgot the beans," Bobby murmured, distractedly.
"Ah, bejesus..." Patch sighed and trundled back inside the store to face the perplexed sales assistant for the final time that day.
By time they were finished, Patch's flat bed truck was almost over flowing with groceries. After several stops to retrieve the odd bag of carrots or potatoes that had bounced out of the back, the journey back to the cabin was slow and arduous.
"Are we ready, Gentlemen?" William glanced from the older Winchester to the younger. "A small dose, just to see how you react, ok, Sam?"
Sam nodded but Dean and William could see how nervous he was. The kid was laying underneath the covers on his bed, fingers fiddling nervously with his new IV line. When he looked up, the doc was standing over him, holding a syringe and eyeing him with concern.
Sam gulped. "Go ahead. Get it over with."
William lowered the needle. "You need to calm down," he told, gently. "If the poly picks up on your anxiety it may perceive it as an attack."
That didn't help Sam's nerves at all.
"Oh God..." he struggled into a sitting position, eyes wide. "I can't do this... Dean, I can't do this..."
"Whoa, whoa, hey!" Dean, who was perched on the edge of Sam's bed, leaned over the kid and cupped the back of his neck with both hands. "It's ok. You'll be fine, I promise, just take it easy and breathe nice and slow. Keep looking at me, ok? Eyes on me the whole time."
Sam stared at him through watery eyes.
"I-I can't... Dean help me..." He clutched at his stomach, gasping and choking.
"Sammy?" Dean covered his brother's hands with both of his. "What's wrong?"
"Too late... too late." Sam suddenly threw back his head and screamed, long and loud. "Argghhhhh!"
William pulled the covers back and gasped in shock. "Late? I'd say its way too early!"
Sam's t-shirt was bulging outwards, tiny hand prints outlined in the fabric.
"Shit!" Dean stood, shoving Sam's shirt upwards until it bunched up around his armpits.
The skin on Sam's stomach was streaked with red and gold, glowing and pulsating grotesquely, the surface mottled like orange peel, and as Dean and William watched, the prints seemed to change shape at the finger tips.
"What the hell?" Dean blinked. "Are those fucking claws?"
Just as the words left his mouth, the skin bowed outwards around the 'claws', on the verge of splitting, and Sam renewed his screams. Seconds later, long gouges appeared from the inside, and Dean could spy the tips of tiny, razor sharp nails.
"Oh God..."
Sam's screams faded to gasps and whimpers as blood bubbled out of his mouth and ran down his chin.
"William, do something for fuck sake!" Dean yelled in despair.
The doc shook his head in horror and bewilderment.
"I don't know..." he whispered, and began to rummage through his medical kit, not sure what the hell he was looking for but ready to try anything. "I don't..."
His hand fell on a pack of sterile gauze and dressings.
William paused, his mind running down a mental list, ticking off all the possibilities and options. Then he nodded.
"Ok," he said. "We have no choice but to go through with this."
Ignoring Dean's panic stricken face, and endless barrage of questions, William plunged the syringe into Sam's IV line, and immediately began preparing another.
"This should deal with the pain," he said, and as soon as the second syringe was empty, set to work on the delivery.
This was definitely uncharted territory. William had limited experience with child birth as it was, but he was pretty sure there weren't too many physicians in the world who had dealt with one where the kid was literally clawing its way out.
If there were, it would have been hard to keep out of the press, for a start.
He was also fairly certain that the resulting panic would lower worldwide birth rates quite considerably. Many legs would be closing around the globe right then.
Red and gold continued glowing, casting a weird, throbbing light round the cabin, bouncing off the walls and sending shadows leaping high enough to illuminate previously unseen books stored among the roof beams.
William began to wonder what the hell was coming out of Sam, what heinous creature had been spawned by his abductors. Surely, only a terrible, horrendous, nightmarish being could be born from such a violent and unnatural union.
Meanwhile, Sam began to quieten down, but Dean wasn't sure if that was the medication or because he was outright dying from shock and blood loss.
And if that didn't suck then what did?
Of all the crap they'd been through over the years, all the shitty, dangerous hunts, the serious injuries they'd survived, this... this was how Sam was going out?
Dean pressed his mouth to Sam's ear and closed his eyes.
"No you don't!" he whispered, fiercely. "Not like this. No fucking way am I losing you to some weird-ass, psycho pregnancy!"
Sam gasped and panted, eyes at half mast and unseeing. There was no telling what state of mind he was in but he must have been listening because he managed a half-smile-part-grimace and a nod nevertheless.
"Good boy," Dean murmured. "Here we go..."
TBC
Someone pass the bucket; I hear some gagging and retching going on and it's not coming from Sam!
As always, please remember that this IS fiction and that this is an equally fictional pregnancy, so the timings won't be real, and nor will any other medical stuff. Also, remember that the baby is not entirely human and not like the shifters we know and love in canon.
So no complaints, please.
Once again, I posted the new chapter tonight instead of answering reviews. Got my cardiology check up and ECG tomorrow so I thought it best to take it easy this evening. Hope you guys don't mind.
Cheers everyone! As always, your reviews put a smile on my face.
Love and hugs,
ST xxx