Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural in any way, shape, or form
Author's Note: What is it with me and one shots, eh? Dean remembers the day Sam was born.
Warnings: Nothing much...some language. Oh, and labor (the giving birth type), of course. If you don't like babies being born, don't read (but don't worry, I'm not too graphic or anything)
"Giving birth is like taking your lower lip and forcing it over your head." Carol Burnett
"I want one valid argument why you're so right and I'm so wrong, Dean!" Sam cried as he slammed the door to the Impala shut.
Dean winced from the driver's seat. "Easy on my baby, Sammy," he said. "And because I'm old –"
"'Because I'm older' is not a valid argument, Dean!"
Damn.
Dean considered. It wasn't because he was smarter, because Sam had always continually beaten him out in academics. It wasn't because he was the better hunter of the two, because Sam was pretty damn good himself. Hell, he'd like to say it was because he was sexier but he had noticed recently that a lot of ladies tended to be checking his brother's ass too…
Finally, he came up with it. "Because," he said, as he started to drive, "I weighed nine pounds and eleven ounces when I was born –"
"Dean, come on!"
"And you were six pounds, three ounces of weakling!"
"Dude, I was three weeks early!" Sam protested, throwing his hands up in the air and laughing.
Dean laughed too. "Oh yeah, I remember…"
Do I ever remember...
The sun wasn't even up yet, but John Winchester was – dressed and ready for work. He yawned as he folded up the paper and drained his up of coffee, checking the clock. He had just enough time to say goodbye to Dean before he would need to head out to work.
He headed up the stairs and passed his room, where he peeked in on his sleeping wife. She was curled up, the covers half kicked off, still looking beautiful even though her stomach was huge. It was impossible for Mary not to look pretty.
He smiled and pushed the door open to Dean's room. He knelt down next to his son's bed and whispered, "Hey Dean…"
Dean's eyes slowly blinked open. "Daddy…?" he said. He rubbed his eyes. "Whyzit so early?" His Dad usually didn't leave work until just before he was heading off to school in the morning.
"I'm working early until your brother or sister arrives, remember?" he whispered.
Dean struggled to think, and then he did remember. "Oh yeah…" he whispered. He yawned sleepily and sighed. "How much longer until my brother is born?"
John chuckled. "Not much longer…but remember, Dean, you might have a sister!"
Dean shook his head. "Nuh-uh, I think it's a brother. Mommy told me she thinks so too."
John kissed his son on the head, and started to tuck him back in. "Well, you Mom's a pretty smart cookie, so I guess we'd better trust her, huh?"
"Yeah," Dean sighed, "Mom's real smart, and she can make really good cookies too."
John laughed a little bit more. "Night, Dean. I'll see you when I'm home from work."
"Night, Daddy."
John pulled the door closed and turned around to see his wife standing in the doorway of their room. "Hey Mary," he whispered, moving over and hugging her. "You're up early."
She smiled and rubbed her stomach. "Yeah, he was kicking."
"'He?' Mary, you don't know that we're having a boy, you shouldn't get Dean too excited, he might end up being disappointed."
She smiled and shook her head. "Nope, I think we're having a boy, John."
He laughed, but didn't try to fight back – Mary had an iron will, after all. "Whatever you say." He gave her a kiss and consulted his watch. "Jeez, I'd better go, I'm going to be late."
"Bye honey," she whispered, rubbing her stomach some more as she watched her husband tramp down the stairs and depart.
Dean woke up later, sunlight streaming through his windows. That was funny; his Mom usually woke him up before it got this bright so that she could help him get ready for school. Why hadn't she come in?
He climbed out of bed and pulled open his bedroom door. "Mom?" he called. He hurried downstairs and looked around. No Mom sitting on the couch watching TV, no Mom making breakfast, no Mom…anywhere.
He listened; nope, he couldn't hear the shower either. Maybe she was upstairs getting dressed; after all, she moved really slow these days, ever since she started to get really fat. He climbed the stairs and saw that his Mom's door was open a crack. He pushed it open all the way. "Mommy?" he said.
"Dean?" he heard a voice call. It sounded like his Mom's except…it didn't. He rushed past the bed and saw her there, sitting cross-legged on the floor, leaning up against the closed door. She was breathing really fast, staring up at the ceiling, but she smiled when she saw Dean.
"Dean, honey," she said, in between her fast breathing, "I think…it's time for your little brother to come."
Dean's eyes widened. "Are you okay?" he said.
She nodded, and reached for her son's hand, grabbing it tightly. "I'm fine, Dean…I'll be okay. Go get me the phone, okay, hon? Go get Mommy the phone."
Dean rushed across the room and grabbed the phone, stretching the cord as far as it would go so that it reached his mother. He watched her shaking fingers press the buttons. She held the phone up to her ear, and pushed her free hand up to her forehead. "Hello, I'd like to speak with John Winchester, please? Thank you." She kept breathing those really fast breaths until… "John? It's Mary…yeah, he's coming on out." She squeezed her eyes shut and clenched her teeth for a second. "Uh-huh, he's up…yeah, but hurry, John!" She passed the phone to Dean. "Daddy wants to talk with you."
"Dad?" Dean said, using both of his small hands to grasp the big receiver of the phone.
"Dean? Listen, go get your mother some water, okay? And put some cold water on a washcloth and give it to her for her head, okay kiddo?"
"Is Mommy going to be okay?" he asked, eyeing his mother warily.
"Yeah Dean, she's going to be fine, but you're going to have to take care of her until I can get there."
"How long is that?"
"Not too long, okay sport?"
"Yeah, okay."
"Bye Dean, take good care of Mommy."
"Okay." Dean took the phone back to hang it up, and then ran into the bathroom. He pulled a Dixie cup out from underneath of the sink and pulled the sink on, filling the tiny cup with cool, gushing water. He grabbed a washcloth from the closet and also pushed it underneath of the spout before turning it off and running back into the bedroom.
"Here Mommy…Dad said for me to get you water and a washcloth."
"Thanks, Dean," she whispered, taking the water. She tried to drink it but her hands were shaking so badly she ended up sloshing it all over her shirt. Instead, she took the washcloth and wiped her face with it. She took a deep breath and then held it for a second before she breathed out slowly. Her head was tilted up towards the ceiling, eyes closed, blonde hair falling softly around her heart shaped face. She opened her eyes and then motioned to Dean. "C'mere, buddy," she said, and Dean snuck himself into the crook of her arm.
"A lot of things…are going to be different around here now, Dean," she whispered. She held her breath for a few more seconds, closed her eyes, and swallowed hard before she rubbed her son's arm and continued. "You're going to be a big brother, and your little brother is going to need you to teach him a lot of things." She then opened her eyes and looked over at Dean. "But you're going to be a really great big brother, Dean. I'm not worried."
She stopped talking then, and the only noise in the room was her heavy breathing, until the front door opened and closed. "Mary!"
There were footsteps pounding before John appeared in the bedroom. He rushed over and crouched down. "Mary?"
She opened her eyes and smiled when she saw her husband. "John…" she whispered, reaching out to grasp his hand. She clenched it tighter and tighter as she squeezed her eyes shut, but then she opened them and took several deep breaths. "It's time, hurry…"
John helped his wife up. "Dean, grab the bag!" he cried to his son as he helped Mary down the stairs and to the front door. Dean grabbed the duffel bag packed with his mother's things before he followed his parents down the stairs, pulling the front door closed behind him.
"Holy shit, this is a big one!" Mary shrieked as she squeezed her husband's hand. She leaned forward in her bed, squeezing her eyes shut as she fought through the contraction. John stroked her arm as he watched his fingers turn from white to purple.
"It's…okay…Mary…" he said, desperately attempting to wiggle his fingers. They wouldn't move.
Suddenly, she flopped back on her pillows, releasing her grip on her husband. He shook his hand, and as she panted she said, "Sorry honey, did I hurt you? Won't happen again, I swear."
John smiled. She'd said that the last four times, but that was beside the point. "It's okay," he said, sitting down in the chair next to the bed.
She closed her eyes and rubbed her stomach again. "Is Dean okay?"
"Dean's fine, honey. He's already charmed his fair share of lollypops off the soft nurses, I'm sure he's okay."
She sighed. "I just didn't want to freak him out in here, you know?" she said. She'd been able to hold herself relatively together when Dean was still around, not wanting to scare him, but now that he was out of the room she was doing her fair share of shrieking when need be. "Dean can come in once he's out."
"There you go with the 'he' again, Mary! What has you so sure?"
Mary considered for a moment, rubbing little circles on her stomach with the palm of her hand. "Well," she said, "I don't know. Premonition?"
John laughed. "You're crazy, Mary, but I sure do lov –"
"Ow ow ow!" she suddenly cried, grabbing John's hand in her vice-like grip that could only make him laugh.
"Sam Winchester," Mary whispered, cradling the bundle of blankets in her arms. She was entirely alone in the little room with her new baby. "Damn good name for a kid…of course, damn good name for a gun, too." She laughed a little bit. "You'll never forgive us for this, will you, Sammy? Of course, Dean will always be jealous – after all, you have a cooler name."
Suddenly the door burst open. "Mommy?"
Mary glanced up. "Hey Dean," she said, motioning for Dean to come up and join her. He all but rocketed himself onto the bed and scrambled up near his mother's shoulder. "This is –"
"Sam, my brother Sam!" Dean cried.
She laughed. "That's right," she said, "your brother, Sam." Dean peered down into the blankets at the sleeping baby. He was so…pink.
"I thought only girls were pink," Dean said, which caused his father to explode into a round of uproarious laughter.
"It's just because he's new, Dean," Mary said gently. She smiled at her boys. "You want to hold him?"
"Yeah!" Dean cried excitedly. Mary turned and helped her son get situated with the newborn.
"Be careful, now," John cautioned as he helped Dean perch Sam's head in the crook of his arm.
"He's heavy," Dean commented.
"Well, you were much heavier as a baby," Mary said.
Dean looked at his mother, a little unbelieving. "Really?"
"Yep," she said, "you were nine pounds and eleven ounces, and Sammy is six pounds, three ounces!" She laughed. "You'll have to tease him about that once in a while once he's older. But not too much – after all, you're his brother. You need to be his friend, too…"
"Dean?"
"Uh?" Dean responded, snapped out of his reverie. He glanced over at Sam who was flipping through his cassette tapes.
"I said, 'Can we change the music?' Black Sabbath is starting to get old, even for me."
Dean smiled. "Yeah dude, put on the radio or whatever."
Sam blinked; stunned. "Dude, you hate the radio."
"I do not hate the radio. I don't particularly like it, but…"
"What happened to, 'Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole?'"
"If it would make you feel better, I can pull over and let you drive."
"No, it's just…" Sam laughed. "Whatever, dude." He flipped on the radio and fiddled around, trying to find a station as Dean just laughed inside at the irony. Jeez, Sam had started out so much smaller than him – how was he suddenly several inches taller?