Half hour before…
“Nos deprecor vestri infinitus misericordia quod servo is vas quod parvulus.” Dean glanced up from the hastily scrawled words on the crumpled piece of paper in his hand and swallowed hard as he pressed down across Sam’s chest with his other forearm. Between the pressure he was applying to his younger brother’s chest and Bobby settled high up on his thighs, he had no chance of curling into the fetal position but that didn’t stop him from trying.
As if it wasn’t bad enough that he was about to have a c-section laying on, the hastily cleaned, wooden floor of an abandoned house on the outskirts of some little easily forgotten bump in the road town, he had to face the first cut without the aid of any painkiller or real medical assistance. And to top that off the whole ritual to, hopefully, protect both him and his baby from the twisted deal that had started this whole thing.
He had to bite his tongue to keep from reassuring Sam when he groaned through clenched teeth as another contraction ripped through his brother. He forced his eyes away from the younger Winchester and glanced up at Bobby, raising an eyebrow in question.
The older man met his gaze, eyes deep with conviction and no little fear. He nodded once before turning back to Sam beneath him.
Hesitantly he lowered the top of Sam’s boxer briefs down below his swollen belly and reached blindly to his side to grasp the curved ritual blade he would be using. With his free hand he squeezed the younger Winchester’s bare hip briefly before nodding once more solely for Dean’s benefit as he laid the blade low on Sam’s stomach.
“Permissum haud vulnero befall vas vel parvulus.”
“Whatever happens Dean you keep repeating this over and over.” Bobby warned as he pulled a piece of folded loose-leaf from his leather bound journal and passed it over. “You don’t say anything else, don’t variate, just continue to chant this.”
Dean glanced down at the paper in his hands and then met the older man’s eyes. “Got it.”
“Speak clearly and enunciate. If you so much as fuck up only one of these words just once this isn’t gonna work. Just cause that demon bitch is trapped don’t make it safe. Any demon gets a whiff of a soulless body and it’ll settle right in, make itself at home and there’s nothing we will be able to do to get it out.”
Dean ground his teeth together, “I got it Bobby.”
Bobby frowned at Dean’s tone, opened his mouth to undoubtedly start in again about how important this whole thing was, lecturing him in a way that was so reminiscent of John Winchester that sometimes Dean wondered if maybe John and Bobby had practiced the tone on each other, prepping each other when having to deal with the childhood versions of the Winchester offspring but Sam cut him off.
“He’s got it Bobby.” He groaned as he pulled his shirt off and tossed it outside the circle of sea salt and Rosemary. He stilled as another contraction tightened the muscles in his stomach before he pushed his sweats down off his hips, “Let’s just get this done please.”
Dean had thought he had prepared himself for the first cut, was expecting Sam to yell out but when his bother managed to snarl out “Son of a bitch” from between clenched teeth as Bobby’s knife sliced through his skin, the eldest Winchester grabbed onto his lover’s flailing hand and bent forward so that all he could see was Sam’s pain pinched features, ignoring the pain in his right thigh as Sam dug the fingers of his other hand into the muscle. All in an attempted to not pull Bobby from his perch on his brother’s thighs, to not grab the knife from the older man’s hand, to not beat him unconscious for not only purposely causing Sam pain but also making him bleed.
“Permissum tantum putus of animus penetro parvulus.”
He couldn’t be sure whose knuckles were going to snap under the strain as their entwined fingers bled white but to Dean if that was the only major catastrophe of the afternoon, he would gladly take a couple broken fingers.
Sam groaned and lifted his head a couple inches from Dean’s lap before slamming it back down.
The eldest Winchester risked a glance up and briefly watched Bobby lower a syringe full of clear fluid towards the gash he had made in Sam’s stomach. In response his own stomach rolled and he quickly looked away and back down at the paper in his hand.
He had to swallow hard before he was certain he would be able to continue clearly, “Permissum tantum tripudium of ortus take vas.”
He thought back to the day that Sam had started getting migraines without the accompanying visions and felt an almost nostalgia for the concern that had plagued him at the time. Almost six months previous, his biggest worry had been that Sam’s freaky physic thing had caused some sort of brain tumour, at least if it had been that his brother could be in a nice clean hospital while he searched for a cure if modern medicine failed him. But this, being pregnant, all Sam had was Bobby and his brother slash lover and Dean feared that they were woefully under prepared and under educated for this kind of thing.
He watched his brother’s eyes slowly open and could clearly see the drug Bobby had given him start to take effect as the hazel depths traded their pinched look for one of hazy comprehension.
Sam smiled slowly as he loosened his grip on both Dean’s thigh and hand. It’s okay. He mouthed silently up at him.
Dean wanted to believe, Jesus did he want to believe but there were just too many things that could go wrong, the room might not be secure because of their hasty preparations, he wasn’t anywhere as convinced as both Bobby and Sam that a ring of sea salt and Rosemary would repel any demon that might get in and the ritual that the older man had dug up from somewhere was questionable at best, something archaic that he had found online, translate apparently from a medieval text. But he swallowed all that down and forced a weak smile for Sam’s benefit.
“Nos deprecor tutela pro vas quod parvulus.”
Seven months earlier…
“I would kill for some toast with peanut butter.”
Dean snorted, “What?”
Sam looked across the car at his brother and said slowly. “Toast with peanut butter.”
He watched Dean make a show of looking around the scenery as it flashed past the windshield, squinting into the darkness. “Huh well I’m afraid that it appears that there is no IHOP between buttfuck nowhere and hump in the road town. All I’m seeing is fields, fields, fields and wait one crop of scraggly evergreens up ahead. If you’re lucky maybe there is an IHOP just on the other side of that.”
Sam rolled his eyes and resisted the urge to smack the back of his brother’s head. “Sarcastic bastard.”
Dean glanced over at him for a moment before turning back to the road. “What is it with you and peanut butter away?”
He shrugged knowing his brother would catch the movement in his peripheral vision. “What?”
“You and peanut butter. You’ve had a hard on for it for like a month now. Every time we stop at a dinner it’s always toast with peanut butter or your asking for plain bread and a couple of those little containers of peanut butter. You didn’t even like peanut butter as a kid.”
Sam didn’t bother to admit that he’d been wondering that himself. He could clearly remember being younger and watching Dean scarf down peanut butter sandwiches, swallowing down the urge to vomit at simply the smell. He had never even attempted to taste it, instinctively knowing that if the smell alone could make him nauseous that tasting it would most certainly lead to a visit to the porcelain god.
“I know it’s hard to believe since we have such a well balanced diet. But obviously my body is craving something, probably protein and peanuts have protein.”
“You want protein baby?” Dean leered at him while grabbing his crotch, “I’ve got all the protein you need.”
Sam slid across the bench seat and leaned close to Dean’s ear. “Yeah?” He made sure to breath directly into his brother’s ear.
“Yeah Sammy.” Dean answered his voice dropping an octave as he reached out and thread the fingers of one hand through Sam’s hair, pulling his head closer to his own.
Too easy. The younger Winchester thought to himself as he ran the tip of his tongue along the shell of his brother’s ear.
Dean moaned softly and his grip in his hair tightened.
“Peanut butter Dean.” He whispered in his brother’s ear before untangling himself and sliding back across the seat. “I want my protein from peanut butter not from sucking you off.”
“Sam you really are a bitch.” Dean growled as he adjusted himself in his jeans before shooting a withering glance at Sam.
“You find me some peanut butter, preferably on toast but about now I’ll take it without and I promise I will be your bitch.” He reached over and rubbed the palm of his hand against the obvious outline of Dean’s hard cock in his jeans.
“Check the backseat in your duffle.” Came the choked reply.
Sam raised an eyebrow before twisting around and reaching for his bag. A part of him was leery, he and Dean maybe be lovers, had been for almost a year, but he was still the little brother and sometimes, most times, an opening like that meant the beginning of a prank war.
Carefully he pulled the zipper back and with one finger pushed open the bag. He grinned as the barely there light from the moon filtering into the back of the car revealed a jar of peanut butter sitting on top of his folded clothes.
He pulled it out and twisted back around, shooting a grin at his brother before settling back into his seat. He untwisted the cap, pulled off the foil and dug two fingers into the light brown paste.
“There’s no toast but maybe that will hold you for now.”
Sam groaned in ecstasy as the first taste of the peanut butter burst across his tongue.
“Jesus Sam you get spunk on the leather of my baby and I’ll beat you stupid.”
Just over six months earlier…
Dean grinned as he stepped out of the bathroom and glanced over at Sam still burrowed under the tacky comforter, asleep.
He didn’t bother to try to quell the surge of pride at the thought that he had managed to wear his brother out the night before. After a relatively easy salt and burn they had both had more than enough energy to indulge in celebratory sex once they had made it back to the motel. His grin grew wider, against the door, in the shower, a couple hours in the bed.
Yeah he figured he had every right to feel proud of himself and if it wasn’t for the fact that it was never a good idea to hang around in small towns after one had desecrated their graveyard, regardless how carefully they had relayed the sod, he would have woken Sam with a long leisurely blowjob.
As it was, since his younger brother had slept in, instead of being up at the ass crack of dawn as was his want, they only had about another hour before checkout and if Sam wanted a shower and anything other than a harried pack up, the blowjob and resulting sex was gonna have to wait until they found a new motel, miles upon miles from here.
Dean strode over to his duffle, sitting atop of the questionable table in the opposite corner of the room and dug through it until he found a pair of boxers.
Dean glanced over at the lump in the middle of the bed before he threw his towel towards the top of his brother’s head. “Sammy.” He called a little louder as he pulled up his boxers.
Dean froze straightening the elastic on his hips and glanced over at the bed. “What hurts Sam?”
The eldest Winchester shut his eyes and rubbed a weary hand down his face. He vaguely wondered if the fact that he was hoping the answer for the question he was about to ask Sam would have the word vision in it made him a bad brother, a bad hunter or both. More to the point the fact that that didn’t seem to bother him like the thought that Sam was getting migraines without first being assaulted by a vision and what after twenty three years of a basically migraine free life might mean.
“Was it a vision?”
When no answer was forth coming, he crossed the room and lowered himself gently down beside Sam, knowing that any sudden movement or noise would cause his brother more pain.
“Sammy was it a vision?”
Slowly the comforter slid back from his brother’s face until Sam’s barely silted open eyes could be seen.
Dean felt his chest lock up as he silently added another tick to his mental list he had named “Sam’s no reason migraines”. “Sammy that roughly makes this about ten in just under two months.”
In truth there was nothing roughly about it, it had been ten in under two months and Dean had gone from slightly concerned to insanely worried about it, to the point that they had had an argument over his belief that his brother should go see a doctor about them.
“There just headaches Dean. It happens to everyone.”
Dean glanced over at Sam, watching him gingerly lean his head against the passenger window and shut his eyes. It only reinforced his guilt for making them leave the confines of the latest motel the day after his brother’s latest migraine knowing that Sam always suffered from nausea and a general feeling of sickness for at least twelve hours after an attack but Bobby had called and they had three states to cross and a poltergeist to get rid of. So he had swallowed his guilt down and bundled Sam into the car that morning with a rare soft smile and a gentle kiss to the top of his head.
“Sam these aren’t just headaches.” He grumbled before turning back to the road before them.
The younger Winchester sighed darkly, “It’s just stress or something Dean alright. Just let it the fuck go.”
“What could possibly be causing this much stress in you life?”
“Gee Dean I don’t know. Hmm do you think maybe the hunting? The lifestyle? The constant worry that one day one or both of us aren’t gonna survive a job?”
It had gone on like that for an hour, the bickering back and forth until Sam had lapsed into stony silence after telling Dean he could damn well go ahead and make an appointment anywhere he wanted to but he couldn’t drag Sam to it.
He had retorted that he damn well could drag Sam to it.
His brother had snorted before issuing the challenging words of “Don’t let fear or common sense stop you.” and if it had been about anything else he would have taken up the challenge. But with this he didn’t want to have to force Sam, partially because of his silent fear that it was a brain tumour because of his freaky visions and really he just didn’t want to know that and partially because causing his little brother actual stress and maybe causing another migraine wasn’t something he was prepared to do.
“Seriously Dean with the way we live you’d think you’d have more pressing concerns than how many headaches I’m getting.”
He swallowed down the word migraine and forced a grin. “I’m not getting any today am I? You know if you can’t keep up with me you can tell me I’ll give you time to recover between encounters. You don’t have to fake headaches, that’s a chick’s trick.”
“Fuck you asshole.”
Dean stood and started pulling on clothes, ignoring the lack of any heat in his brother’s words, pretending the shiver that ran up his spine was from a nonexistent chill in the room, not from his increasing anxiety for his brother’s health.
“I’m gonna go pay for an extra night.” He forced his voice to stay light, “And then run down to that little drugstore I spotted when we rolled into town to get some painkillers since we’ve got nothing that won’t knock you on your ass for at least two or three days princess.”
He didn’t bother to add that he had bought a fresh bottle of extra strength Advil only a month previous and only Sam had been using them. He’d save that little tidbit until his brother was up for another round of arguing about needing to see a doctor.
“’M not a princess jerk.”
“Whatever you say Samantha.”
Four and half months earlier…
“You never considered actually making that deal…right?”
He could see Sam staring at him from the corner of his eye, knowing without looking directly at his brother that there would be begging in his eyes and he could not face that right then. Not after what the crossroad demon had said about their dad, what she had said about Sam.
“I gotta tell you. You would have never pulled that stunt if you knew.”
Dean knew he shouldn’t take the bait, knew that demons didn’t like to be bested, that this was a last ditch effort at one-up-man-ship but he wanted to hear the pathetic attempted, he really did. “Knew what?”
“Where your dad is.” A sly grinned appeared and her eyes twinkled with dark mirth. “You should have made that deal. You see people talk about hell but it’s just a word. It doesn’t even come close to the real thing.”
It had started as a way to laugh at her but as her words began to sink in he felt guilt begin to rise, guilt and fury. “Shut your mouth bitch.”
“Oh a sore spot huh?” She chuckled, “Fine we won’t discuss daddy. But of course there’s also the deal with little Sammy.”
Instinctively he took a step towards her and felt a small about of victory when she dropped back a step. “What are you talking about?”
“Here’s the thing,” she purred, “I don’t just make deals for humans. Now granted most of the time it’s only humans that want or need my help but occasionally another demon will swallow it’s pride and come to me.”
Rationally he knew he should swallow his anger down and hear out what she had to say since it had something to do with Sam, something to do with the yellow-eyed demon’s grand plans but he was sick of hearing about it. Instead he reached for the book in his pocket, not caring if she stuck around long enough for an exorcism or if she escaped, so long as she got gone. “We’re done here.”
“You don’t want to hear about Sam’s baby? Your baby?” She said quickly and grinned again when his hand dropped to his side.
She tapped the fingernails of one hand over her lips, “I think you call her Meg. Had a desire for a human body of her own, something she couldn’t be exorcised out of but it’s complicated, blood from the human father, skin from the intended human mother. You boys fit the bill. And well hell you boys have been going through the motions for quite awhile now so really should it be such a surprise?”
Dean snorted, ignoring the chill suddenly freezing him from the inside, in a completely fucked up way it made sense. The craving for peanut butter, the migraines that suddenly stopped a couple months earlier after plaguing Sam for almost a solid three months, just like his dad had said once that their mother had suffered when she had been pregnant with both of them. The slow but definite weight gain.
“You really that pissed that I bested you? Everybody knows that men can’t get pregnant. Nice try though.” He was rather proud that his voice hadn’t betrayed his turmoil.
She laughed, “I make things happen. Coulda brought your daddy back from the dead remember? Making a man pregnant is a cake walk compared to that.”
He lunged forward, intending to drag her back towards the devil’s trap, it wouldn’t take much to knock her out and fix it before she came to. He could force her to tell him the truth, he would torture it out of her if needed, innocent human be damned.
Just as his fingers brushed her arm her mouth opened wide and she screamed, black smoke escaping on the wind.
No this was not something he could talk to Sam about at least not until he had it settled in his own mind. If he told him now he knew he would lose his cool, his panic would be evident and that was not allowed. He and Sam might be lovers but he was Sam’s older brother first and foremost and that meant being the strong one, the one that appeared to always be in control.
He leaned forward and pushed the cassette tape into the player, knowing Sam would take the gesture for what it was.
He just needed time to think, figure out they were going to do, if there was any real reason for them to be trying to figure out what to do.
Four months earlier…
Dean had been acting strange, even for him, since their run in with the crossroads demon a couple weeks previous and admittedly Sam had been worried that he had to do with what she had alluded to regarding their father. In fact his brother had been so adamant about not talking about what exactly had happened at the crossroads that night that he secretly began to fear that Dean had made a deal to bring their father back and just couldn’t figure out how to tell him. But this, he couldn’t even begin to wrap his mind around it.
“Look I know how this sounds Sam but it kind of adds up.”
He shot up from the bed and stalked across the room to stand in front of his brother. He glared down at him, watching him fidget in the chair, play with the long box in his hands before he finally looked up at him.
“Dean I know that we’ve had a rough run over the past few months, what with dad dying and my possession, which I admit I didn’t deal with the aftermath well and I’m sorry for that I really am. And then this crossroads demon playing games with your head but honestly she’s a demon Dean. Forget that demons are all about chaos, that they lie but what I want you to think about is that they are evil and I have no doubt in my mind that something evil cannot create life. And that’s what a pregnancy is, life.”
He sighed, “Sam the craving for peanut butter, the migraines, the weight gain.” He grabbed the hem of Sam’s t-shirt and pulled it up, “This.” He ran his fingertip down his happy trail until he hooked it into the top of his jeans.
He pushed his brother’s hands away and glanced down at his own stomach. “What? So I’ve gained a little weight, I hate to say it but we’re both getting older so maybe my metabolism is slowing down before yours. As for my happy trail? I’ve always had one.”
“I checked online.” Dean admitted softly, “Apparently sometimes it gets darker when a woman’s pregnant.”
He’s loosing his grip. Sam thought desperately and had to swallow the urge to laugh. Of all the things he figured would eventually get his brother, loosing his sanity was never one of them.
Slowly he dropped to his knees and slid his hands up his brother’s thighs until his fingers gently brushed against Dean’s knuckles, white from the strain of clutching the pregnancy test box tightly but not to crush it’s contents. “Dean it’s not possible.” He tapped the index finger of his right hand against the box.
“Sam if she can bring back the dead or heal cancer or grant any other heart’s desire why should this be any different?”
And therein lies the crux. Sam admitted silently and fought down the urge to shiver. When it was all said and done, really as illogical, medically impossible or insane as it sounded how was it any different? It wasn’t and that was the eerie truth of it.
Still he had to play devil’s advocate, had to stay on the sane side of the whole conversation because if he gave into his brother’s belief he was going to lose it. Pregnant? Yeah that was one of a very short list of things he didn’t, wouldn’t consider, it settled itself high on the same mental list as allowing Dean to die without a fight, giving himself over to the yellow-eyed demon’s plans for him, letting Jessica and his mother’s deaths go without avenging them.
A very short list indeed.
And that was without considering the ramifications and implications of a demon, any demon, having the power to not only impregnate someone but also do it for the sole reason of having a body they couldn’t be exorcised from. Jesus what a thought.
Sam sighed, “Okay let’s say that she was telling the truth.” He started slowly, not really wanting to even hypothetically consider being pregnant because if he did then he was going to have to start thing about just how said baby was going to get out of him when the time came. With its sole purpose being the mortal shell for a demon’s essence, he didn’t think a c-section was going to cut it.
“Why haven’t we heard about something like this before? Why hasn’t dad? If it was that simple for a demon to pull a move like this then why haven’t they?”
Dean regarded him warily for a moment, apparently not in the least fooled by his soft tone or sudden about face in his willingness to discuss it instead of just denying even the very possibility, at the top of his lungs.
“And how would we know Sam? Don’t think they would go around claiming to be demons anchored in a human body, do you? Though thinking about it I can think of at least a couple nut jobs in the world that I could completely believe being demons inside a human body.” He raised an eyebrow, “Can’t you?”
He hated when Dean did that, played the rational argument card against him. It was one thing for his brother to prove that he actually had a brain that could focus on something other than “go, go, go, kill, kill, kill” and was willing to stop and examine every aspect logically but when he did it in his arguments against Sam, it drove him nuts.
Against his will and ideally the Winchester code of pushing unwanted thoughts down and locking them away, his mind began to helpfully or unhelpfully as the case may be of the more vicious serial killers the world had had to deal with over the centuries began spring up in his mind’s eye. Then began to ponder the less known but equally a vicious, spouse abusers, child molesters, small town bullies that terrified even the police force and got away with any and everything they chose to do.
“This is insane.”
Dean smiled weakly at him and Sam could clearly read the victory in his brother’s eyes. “Are lives are weird dude. This really would simply be another bump in the long road of our lives.”
“Bump.” Sam echoed back softly as he felt the need to laugh bubble up in his chest but swallowed it down knowing it would be hysterical and one of them still needed to stay sane in this crazy conversation. He pushed aside the thought that it was his brother who was beginning to appear to be on the sane side of it and he was floundering around in the dark mire of denial just for the simple sake of it. He was the sane one, had to be, men could not get pregnant, crossroads demons that granted the impossible or no. “More than a bump soon enough if I’m gonna believe you.”
His older brother nudged the pregnancy test against his hand, tense against his thigh. “Only one way to find out if I’ve been royally suckered.” Voice gentle, apologetic but still pushing.
Sam glanced down at the offending box laying across his knuckles for a moment before twisting his hand so that it was clutched tight, edge biting into his own palm. He looked back up, “If, no when, this comes back negative you do know that I’m never letting you live this down right?”
Dean gave a jerky nod, “I can honestly say that in this case I wouldn’t mind at all.”
Sam grinned despite himself at the gruff tone echoing through the phone, equal parts concern and genuine affection. “How you doing?”
“I’m fine Sam but I don’t think for a moment that you’re calling to inquire about my state of being so let’s cut through the bullshit okay?”
Sam glanced down at the scuffed motel room table and watched, detachedly, as the fingers of one hand followed a particularly deep furrow in the scarred wood. He swallowed hard, still not quite believing what he was about to do but in this case he was completely at a loss as to how to go about researching his particular problem.
“Bobby have you ever heard about any unexplained pregnancies?”
There was silence from the phone for a moment before, “Come again?” was the slow response.
“You know, umm, like women who shouldn’t be able to get pregnant for whatever reason suddenly pregnant.”
“Your idiot brother knocked someone up and he’s claiming innocence ain’t he? I told your daddy more times than I care to remember that your brother was gonna eventually make a mistake when it came to all the women. Damn fool kid…”
“Not quite Bobby.” Sam cut the tirade off quickly, ignoring the need to protect his brother’s tarnished reputation. After all since they had crossed the line between brothers to lovers, Dean may have looked but he hadn’t done anything. But there was no way in hell Sam was going to explain that to the older hunter and there was the glaring fact that his older brother had been a slut before so it was almost forgivable that Bobby had automatically assumed the worst.
“Actually it’s for a case.”
The older man snorted, “Some little girl got herself knocked up and is claiming innocence ‘cause of her parents. Or is it someone’s wife and the husband’s claiming he’s sterile or some such?”
He opened his mouth to answer when a sudden lump formed in his throat choking back the words. “Umm no.” He managed to force the words past numb lips. “It’s a guy that’s knocked up.”
The laughter was immediate and so loud that he had to pull the cell away from his ear.
He shut his eyes and rubbed his free hand against them wearily. Bobby’s initial response was pretty much what he had been expecting but it would have been nice to have been wrong. It had sucked, being wrong two days before, as he stared at the little plus sign but now it would have been a godsend, something, anything, to make what he was facing easier. But easier hadn’t been part of the Winchester vocabulary since the night his mother had died, pinned to the nursery ceiling. Why he expected it to become a part of it now was something, admittedly he could answer but until he could actually vocalise the words “I’m pregnant”, there was no way he could explain the need.
“Okay I’m only gonna say this once Sam so listen close,” Even with the phone pulled away from his ear, he could still here Bobby’s words and quickly drew the cell back towards him. When the older hunter said he was only going to say something once, he meant once and both Winchester boys had learned early on to heed that fact, even if their father had never seemed to get it.
“You and your brother, for the most part you’re good, smart boys. You grew up better than I’d ever expected considering your childhoods. Not saying your daddy wasn’t a good father but the way of this life it’s hard to be father and hunter.”
Sam leaned his forehead against his freehand and stared down at his feet, Bobby was the only person outside of Dean that could make Sam proud to be a Winchester but unlike his older brother, when the older man complimented him there was almost always something behind it. “You tried your best at normal Sam and no one, not even that fool father of yours should fault you for it. But ultimately your sweet little thing paid for being involved with a hunter. Ain’t your fault mind but normal and a hunter just don’t mix.” “Your daddy was a good man boys but he’s gone and hiding from the world here at my home ain’t ever gonna change that.”
“But sometimes you two are as bright as a couple of two watt bulbs in a power failure. A pregnant man. Sam come on!”
He grinned in spite of himself; Bobby never failed to maintain his own personal status quo.
“Actually Bobby I’ve seen the proof.”
“You’ve seen the doctor’s report?”
Sam thought of the damning blue plus vibrant against the pale yellow stain from the urine on the small white, plastic stick still sitting on the side of the bathroom sink. The plus sign may have faded to nothingness well over twenty-four hours earlier but the memory of it would be forever stuck in his mind. “Home pregnancy test actually.”
Bobby let a breath that he had apparently been holding, “Unless you’re telling me you saw this guy piss on the stick then I’m telling you it’s fake. Don’t know why but he’s up to something so if I were you boys I’d stay clear of your virgin Mike until you do a little background search on him.”
“Didn’t piss on the stick Bobby. Pissed into a plastic cup and the test went into it. Instructions said it was better to go that way.”
Why he was going into that much detail he couldn’t really say except that he had known from the beginning that Bobby was going to require more of an explanation other than Sam’s word on it. A distant thought occurred to him that he should probably be put out that the older man just wouldn’t take his word for it but if he had than Sam would have been concerned about the older hunter’s mental state, the man never took anything at face value, probably one of the reasons he had survived for as long as he had.
“You witnessed all this?”
Unbidden, but then again the memory was still too fresh for it to ever be too far from the front of his mind, Sam saw himself going through the motions that night while listening to Dean’s uneven breathing from the other side of the bathroom door. “Yeah, yeah I did.”
“Huh.” Was the eloquent response.
“Yeah that’s one way to put it.” He replied, “I think mine was more along the lines of “well fuck me”.”
Bobby chuckled, “What did the guy say? I mean how did you boys end up mixed up in this?”
“Friend of a friend from Stanford.” He answered succulently, he doubted he could have continued the lie to Bobby’s face but over the phone his tells were masked behind miles of air between cell phone towers. “Still don’t have the complete story but something about an ex-girlfriend who, apparently, is into demonology only not to fight them. And swearing vengeance for not giving her what she wanted which was a child to be a vessel for a particular demon.”
Always mix in the truth with the lie to make it all the more believable, had been their father’s advice. At the time a much younger Sam had been disturbed that their father was teaching them how to lie so fluently but now he was glad for the twisted lesson.
“Well can’t say I’ve ever heard of anything like this but I’ve got books that I’ve never gotten around to reading from Jim’s collection. If there is anything about this kind of thing it’ll probably be in the old books of his. That man’s collection was pretty extensive in the really bizarre, to the point where from what I’ve heard from the boys that went to clean up after his death, a couple of priests showed up the middle of the second night, trying to demand certain books.”
Sam’s interests peaked, if the papacy wanted something, in his experience, they generally got it, information, scrolls, books, silence. His father had had a run in with them during a particularly difficult exorcism when he and his brother had still been really young and that was one of the few times he had ever seen the man ruffled to the point of maybe even scared. He never did have the courage to ask his father what the priest had said to him after the exorcism but whatever it had been, their dad wouldn’t even discuss what he had experienced during the ritual to release the little girl from the demon, nor had he made any mention of it in his journal which was unheard of considering his almost obsessive nature regarding any and all of his run-ins with the supernatural.
“So than the hunting community has lost some of it’s best resources.” He said softly already thinking that if there had been anything it would have probably been in those books, it was just the way his luck had been running lately.
Again he got an answering snort, “Not quite. They may carry a lot of clout the world over but they are too over confident because of it. Two priests, unarmed with the exception of their threats, trying to take books that, ultimately, are precious to the hunting community and in the hands of half a dozen armed hunters. They never stood a chance.”
“Aren’t you worried they’ll eventually find out where the books they want went and come to collect with more than threats?” His elation that any information that might be pertinent to his predicament was still within reach, either already with Bobby or with someone the older man knew was short lived when faced with the memory of the look of barely concealed fear on his father’s face the night so many years before.
“Sam organised religions of the world may not like us but they damn well know about us, at least those that are high enough up in the hierarchies. We do all the dirty work, we are the ones that ultimately give up our lives, figuratively and literally while they hide behind their churches and their congregations refusal to believe what’s right in front of their eyes. Occasionally somebody finds out that the hunting community has some old book that may or may not be damaging to them and they start with the threats but usually that’s as far as it get because without us they’d be screwed.”
Sam shook his head, “You sound like a conspiracy nut.”
“Nah just someone who’s had a run in or two with those who want what I’ve got.”
“I hate to say it but the more I hear the more I think Dean’s right. Demon’s I get. People are just crazy.”
Bobby laughed, “Tell me he’s nowhere nearby. I’d hate to think of that boy’s head getting any bigger.”
He had to chuckle in response because he knew the older man was right. “Nowhere nearby.”