He got Sophie in a bed and Dr. Johnson on the phone.
"You're sure you can't get her to a hospital?" She asked.
"No way," Dean replied, "With this storm and what we've got here in Lebanon…here's our best bet. I'd far rather deliver this baby myself than have EMS do it on the side of the highway."
"Okay," Dr. Johnson was unnaturally calm, "How dilated is she?"
"How do I check?" Dean asked.
Sophie was between contractions, sitting up on her infirmary bed with her fists pressed into her lower back. Sam was in the hallway, pacing. With as nervous as the poor kid had been you would've thought his wife was the one in labor.
"You've got to feel her cervix. If your pointer finger fits, that's one centimeter. Your whole fist is ten," Dr. Johnson instructed, "Put the phone down. Check. Let me know. Actually…how far apart are her contractions and how long are they?"
"Five minutes," Dean replied, "Last one was seventy-two seconds."
"Okay," Dr. Johnson replied, "Go check her cervix for me."
"You alright?" Dean asked as he laid Sophie back on the mattress and pulled up her dress.
"Another contraction's gonna come soon," Sophie said, "I can just tell. But right now I'm okay."
"Alright," Dean instructed, "Feet on my shoulders. Let me see how close you are."
Four fingers. Sophie yelped, feet pushing so hard on his shoulders he worried one might dislocate.
"Four," he said, picking the phone back up.
"Fingers or centimeters?" Dr. Johnson asked.
"Fingers," Dean replied.
"Okay Dean," Dr. Johnson instructed, "She's going into active labor very soon. The contractions are going to get harder and they're going to get closer together. And when you can fit your whole fist start feeling for the baby's head. I've got to go do an emergency c-section. But once you can feel the baby's head it's time to push. Got it?"
And without waiting for an answer. She hung up. Which is when Dean heard Sophie scream behind him.
"You okay?" He asked, rushing over.
"They're getting stronger," Sophie said through gritted teeth, checking her watch, "And that was what - three and a half minutes apart?"
"Okay, okay," Dean attempted to be reassuring, "Breathe through it. You're gonna be alright. It's perfectly normal."
She gripped his hand like a vise.
Then, as quickly as it started, she relaxed.
"That was awful," Sophie sagged back on the mattress.
"Dr. Johnson is doing an emergency surgery," Dean said, "I'm gonna call Jody and see if she has any advice."
Sophie nodded.
"You want anything for the pain?" Dean asked.
"Anything you've got," Sophie replied.
"I'll go find something," Dean said, "Sam!"
His younger brother rushed in, looking feverish.
"Take five aspirin and then go get that book you read," Dean instructed, "We're on deadline now."
And then, for a few horrifying minutes, Sam and Dean both disappeared. And Sophie sat there with her own panicked thoughts. She was having her baby. In the middle of nowhere. In a snowstorm. Not only with no doctor, but with not a single other woman present.
It'd be fine, she told herself. It had to be fine.