A Nurse In Need Chapter 7

Sam continued to lay on the bed, all his energy seemingly expended, his eyes closed. His breath had slowed to an almost normal pace, but he was still pale and soaked with sweat.

Not the look of someone who had just received a celestial healing.

Dean exchanged looks with Cas and Oannes. "What's happening here? If you know anything about me, you should know I don't take being double-crossed well. And if that's what you did, I will hunt you and your family down until you're all dead. You can find your name on the Extinct list next to-."

The Sea-man's right hand began to glow and a triton, blazing greenish-blue, began to twist and form from his fingers.

Dean began to move towards the creature, and Cas quickly shoved him backwards and positioned himself between them before Oannes could strike. He stood there for a better part of a minute acting as an angelic shock absorber.

None of the three noticed the activity behind them…

"Um, guys?" Sam's weak voice floated from across the room and diverted their attention.

When they turned around, Marla was palpating Sam's stomach again, puzzled. It almost looked like a deflated water balloon, but she was hitting something solid. He was obviously uncomfortable again, working very hard to breathe normally, but not laboring as he was. At least not yet…

"I think there's a stowaway in there," Marla stated, not meeting anyone's surprised look. She continued to exam Sam's stomach and reached under the sheets again.

"Aw, come on—really?! Ouch! Dammit, Marla, that hurts!"

She offered him an empathetic look right before she pushed her hand further inside him.

He drew in a breath and held it. God, this was miserable…

Dean, assuming the big brother position again, knelt again on the floor beside his sibling. "Is he gonna have to do this again?"

"Yes."

"Fuck me…"

"Just try to rest as long as you can."

Before long, Sam started to rock his hips and pant and reach for his brother. The end was beginning.

"Mother fucker!"

Dean turned to Cas. "Assume the position, Cas."

Both men again lifted Sam up, this time they were facing him, and each had a leg up on the bed, hooking one of Sam's legs on each, and holding them apart.

This position, again, allowed the child's head to move straight down through Sam's pelvis, and the battering ram began.

The involuntary heaves commenced again, Sam growling as he pushed.

"You know that Mjolnir, Dean?" Sam panted, between pushes.

"Um, yeah?"

"I'm pushing it outta my ass."

Both Sam and Dean giggled before Sam let his head fall onto his brother's neck. He heard Sam talking to his body, softly, almost so he couldn't hear it. "Open up…just open up, please, just open up."

Dean looked down at Marla. "Shouldn't this be going a little faster?"

"Not always," she replied, wiping Sam with a cloth. "It's another big one."

"Lotta pressure, Sammy…"

Before he could take a breath, Sam's body took over for a particularly hard contraction. He inhaled sharply, and pushed as hard as he could. This time, when he ran out of air, he had enough time to take another big breath before he lurched forward and grunted. Dean could feel his brother's legs begin to tremble again. He began to breathe like he'd sprinted an entire marathon, and rested his head backwards.

"Her head's right there, Sammy…"

His voice was shaky. "IT BURNS AGAIN!" He lowered his chin to his chest and moaned. " Nghhhhh!"

"You're so close-."

Sam pitched forward to push and grimaced and growled. Marla could see the baby's head begin to crown, emerge some, retract, and then re-emerge a little further with each strenuous push.

"IT hurts…please just get it out…please…my hips are breaking…please…"

Sam submitted to yet another contraction and groaned through a push. Dean watched as his belly rounded and hardened. Quickly and without warning, the baby's head emerged and Sam threw his head back and screamed. In a panic, he tried to push, only to be stopped by Marla.

"Sam, STOP! Don't push!"

"I can't! I have to!"

Dean could see that Marla looked like she was unwrapping something. "The cord is around the baby's neck. SAM, DO NOT PUSH!"

Dean put his free hand on his brother's chest to get his attention. "Sam, look at me! Pant with me brother! Pant!"

Sam focused all the energy he had left into following his brother. He heard nothing else—he saw nothing else but Dean's face.

"That's it, little brother…"

Dean could see that his brother was straining not to push. The skin around his forehead was encircled with broken blood vessels that resembled a halo. "Hang in there, brother." Dean kissed his sweaty hair while his brother struggled against his working body. After some long moments, the baby was ready…

"Okay, Sam, we're clear, push as hard as you can, honey! This baby's gonna need some TLC-!"

Sam again silently pushed, took a deep breath and pushed again.

He screamed when he felt the child's entire body emerge from his own.

This time, though, there was no crying. There was no lying the newborn on Sam's belly. Marla was working frantically to cut the cord and then began to rub the baby's chest.

She was blue.

Dean and Cas laid Sam back to the mattress, but he used his failing strength to protest. "What's wrong? What's wrong with her?" He reached between his legs to get a better view. "Did I do something wrong?"

"She's not breathing. Come on, sweetheart—just one breath…come on…"

"Give her to me," Sam cried. "Lemme see her." His eyes began to fill with tears, not for the effort he just put forth, but because she was innocent. She was innocent and beautiful…and she just came out of his body. If she didn't survive, it would be his fault, somehow, someway, he'd failed her.

Marla laid the child's limp body into Sam's arms. He cradled her like he'd cradled a baby a million times. Everyone in the room knew he hadn't, but as he did, it seemed so…natural…

This time, it was Dean that was amazed at his brother. He held her and pleaded with her and hugged her and kissed her. Then he put his mouth over hers…

The first sign of life was protest. She drew her legs up and her arms flailed and then…she screamed bloody murder…

Let's admit this, at least. Sam Winchester is a good crier. His dad tried to teach him not to and actually made fun of him for it as an ineffective teaching tool. At first, when he was little, he tried not to, but it didn't quite fit him; then, as he got older, it became a defiance thing—he cried when he felt like it and made no attempt to curtail it. That skill was left to Dean to master, and even then, at the worst times, the elder Winchester failed to cage it. Sam cried. In fact, he sobbed. He sobbed and cradled this little, tiny girl and lifted her little angry arm to look at her fingers and count them. He kissed her fist and rubbed her little blood-stained head and began to talk to her, much like a new father would talk to his own.

He looked up, knowing that his time with them was borrowed. Dutifully, he handed the child to Oannes.

The last thing he remembered was his brother cupping his cheek and rubbing it with his thumb…