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Sam had one foot up on the bench seat and the other planted firmly on the floor of the Impala. He had managed to maneuver you between his legs, where he could offer comfort and support in whatever form you needed.
With one hand pressed against the side of your colossal baby bump, Sam could feel your stomach tense up each time a contraction came, and he always urged you to breathe through them. His face would be nuzzled within your hair, while his other hand kept itself busy rubbing along your neck, shoulders, arms, back, and hips. Indeed, the man had become remarkably handsy ever since you began to show and you unwittingly loved it, even now, in the throes of labor.
“Ugh, Sam!” You grabbed his wrist in a moment of frenzied pain.
“I’m here, baby! I got you, it’s OK.” Sam burrowed his nose into your neck in consolation, and you were beyond glad he had decided to join you in the backseat, despite the tight quarters.
As the blur of buildings and trees whizzed by, your contractions intensified in both strength and frequency. “This hurts more than that time I got shot,” you groaned miserably.
Sam laughed but continued to offer gentle susurrations in his low, soothing tone, lips grazing along the shell of your ear, whilst his doting, reverent fingers brushed the hair away from your face before travelling downwards to work their magic along the base of your spine.
Although Dean tried to grant the two (soon to be four) of you some privacy, he was still able to hear every whisper of love and encouragement Sam uttered your way. He knew that there was nearly nothing his brother hated more in this world than to see you in pain and figured Sam had been doing a pretty awesome job so far, considering. And you, of course - as proven countless times before - had the pain tolerance of an indie wrestler, and Dean had never been more aware of or impressed by the fact than right now.
On this, your boyfriend agreed wholeheartedly. “Breathe, baby. You’re doing so good,” he commended with pride as you huffed through yet another massive cramp, your hands laid protectively across your distended belly.
But something didn’t feel right. Your contractions were growing closer together at an alarming rate, though no one cared to vocalize it, and although you were tempted to pull your usual shit of swallowing your discomfort in silence, you reminded yourself that this time it was about more than just you.
“Ohhh,” you finally let yourself moan aloud, “Sam, I think you might have to check me.”
“Check you?” Dean asked from the driver’s seat; his voice was a little higher than usual.
“To see how far she’s dilated,” Sam replied for you. “Baby, I can’t do that unless Dean pulls over. Do you think we should stop the car? Tell me what you’re feeling.”
“Mmm, I don’t know,” you rasped, “There’s just a lot of pressure and it feels like there’s no break between the contractions anymore.” The string of words left you panting, and you leaned further back into Sam’s embrace.
“What’s the sitch, guys? We stopping the car or should I keep driving?” Dean questioned as he turned his classic rock down a little lower.
“Keep driving,” you confirmed weakly.
Dean complied but made a point to meet Sam’s eyes in the rear-view mirror. They shared a brief moment of wordless, brotherly communication, after which Sam nodded resolutely, his jaw set and eyes ablaze with a mixture of fear and rigid determination.
As the tension in the car mounted, however, the tension in your body seemed to fade. You felt awful for becoming so depleted this early into your labor. You hadn’t even given birth to one of the twins yet, and already you were feeling drained. How could you possibly carry on this way? But all these thoughts quickly disappeared when the weariness became too much.
“Y/N?” Sam looked down at you with furrowed brows. He could feel your body growing limp within his arms.
“Sammy, I don’t feel so good,” you whispered hoarsely. Dean would have thought this was a very normal thing to say during labor, but the change of tone in your voice alerted him to something more.
Sam too, was immediately alert. He scanned your form and noticed two terrifying things right away: first, there was blood on your pants and second, your eyelids seemed to be drooping involuntarily.
“Y/N? Baby, stay with me,” he pleaded as he gave your shoulders a light shake, “Come on, wake up Y/N!” But the darkness was beginning to take over, and you could no longer respond.
“Dean, she’s bleeding,” Sam spoke as an urgent aside, his heart pounding wildly inside his chest.
Dean could tell his brother was beginning to panic, just as he always did when your well-being was on the line, and he knew he needed to remain calm for Sam. “What? OK, just hold on, Y/N/N! We’re almost there.” Dean’s lead foot pushed even harder against the gas pedal.
Behind him, Sam held you tightly in his arms, filling your ears with delicate murmurs of reassurance, desperate for you to wake up. “Come on, baby. You promised me. Just hang on a little longer. You’re gonna be OK.” But even as he said this, he saw more blood seep through your pants. “Dean, drive faster!”
About to tell Sam that he was already going thirty over the speed limit, Dean made the wise decision to shut up and simply put the pedal to the metal, his face a mask of absolute focus.
It was only a matter of minutes, during which you drifted in and out of consciousness, before the Impala screeched to a halt in front of the hospital’s emergency entrance. Dean scrambled out of the car at lightning speed and ran around to open the rear, passenger-side door for you.
Likewise, Sam wasted no time lifting you into his arms and bounding out of the car, practically sprinting towards the reception area. It was an impressive feat of strength, even for Sam, but Dean knew his little brother would have moved mountains for you and those babies if he needed to.
A nurse was there to greet Sam upon his frantic and rather rowdy entrance.
“Help! I need help! My wife’s in labor with our twins, and she passed out on the way here! Her water already broke a-and she’s bleeding!”
The two of you had created fake identities when you decided on a hospital birth, concerned about the chances of complications for delivering twins (and big ones at that), and Sam had never been more grateful for the foresight. He had suggested you go with the credentials of husband and wife to make things easier and ensure the hospital would give him all the privileges of a marital status. Fortunately, despite his hysterical state, Sam hadn’t even hesitated when he called you his wife; the word just seemed to roll off his tongue naturally.
Meanwhile, Dean glanced at his beloved car for a moment, its keys left haphazardly in the ignition. There was a slight grimace on his face as he faltered, considering whether he should go park his Baby in a more legal location or let her get towed and head directly to you and his brother. When he looked back towards the ER and saw your head lolling against Sam’s shoulder, he made his decision. Sam needed him, and Dean would be damned if he didn’t fulfill his lifelong job as the solid and unwavering base of support for his baby brother at this pivotal moment.
“We need a stretcher over here!” The nurse hollered out before turning back to Sam, “OK sir, can you tell me when your wife’s water broke?”
Sam blanched for an instant. He couldn’t focus on anything but your unconscious form. “Um… it was before we left, about, I don’t know-“
“About an hour ago,” Dean supplied as he strode up to his brother’s side. “And we noticed the bleeding around fifteen minutes ago.”
Sam nodded appreciatively, his eyes still wide and frenetic. A stretcher suddenly appeared next to him and he reluctantly laid you down on it, opting to grasp for your hand instead. Dean was busy informing the doctors of your situation, but Sam couldn’t hear any of it.
“OK, let’s go!” a male doctor called out. “Get an OR prepped just in case. Tell them we’ve got a female in active labor with twins, possible placental abruption.”
Trotting alongside your stretcher as the hospital staff pushed you down the hall, one of Sam’s large hands still held on firmly to yours while the other wiped the hair away from your face. “Baby, if you can hear me, please just stay strong, OK? Everything’s gonna be alright. I’m right here. I’ll be here the whole time.”
As if you had heard his prayers, your eyelids began to flutter open. Sam nearly collapsed with relief, but he willed his legs to continue pumping, his eyes never leaving your face. He waited as you tilted your head this way and that, trying to make out your new surroundings.
“S-Sam?” Your voice was still feeble, but Sam had never been happier to hear it.
“Oh, thank god! I’m here, baby, I’m here,” he choked out in a sob.
“Where are we?”
“The hospital. Dean got you here in record time. Everything’s gonna be fine.” He repeated. “Just stay awake for me, OK?”
You tried to nod, but you weren’t sure how well it translated since every muscle in your body felt utterly exhausted.
“She’s regained consciousness. Let’s bring her to the delivery room first.”
As soon as you were wheeled in, an oxygen mask materialized before you, and despite your weak protests was promptly attached to your face. Regardless, you barely got the chance to take a few deep breaths before the contractions began to pick up exactly where they left off.
Yet it seemed like an eternity until the urge to push finally and abruptly overcame your body. You gasped, mouth forming a wide “O”, as you felt your first baby descend swiftly through the birth canal.
“What? What is it?!” Sam inquired hurriedly in trepidation.
“She needs to push,” the doctor answered for you. “Alright Y/N, on your next contraction, I want you to put your chin to your chest and bear down for me as hard as you can, you understand?”
Your answer was a resounding growl as you squeezed your eyes shut and gave your first push of many.
Sam never left your side and he never let go of your hand. He could only marvel at your strength as he tried desperately to provide what little physical and moral support he could. He wanted so badly to kiss you but with the mask in the way, his lips could only settle upon your sweaty forehead.
It took hours, but eventually…
“The baby’s out; it’s a boy! Time of birth - 2:37am.”
Sam was granted only a second to rejoice, his iridescent eyes lighting up at the sight and sound of his firstborn entering the cruel world.
“The mother’s hemorrhaging!” a nurse bellowed and Sam instantly paled, his gaze returning at once to your fatigued figure on the bed.
“We need to get the second baby out now! Call the OR, tell them we’ve got an emergency C-section coming in,” the lead doctor commanded in reply.
Sam watched helplessly as the blood drained from your face and your eyes refused to open yet again. “No, no, no! Please, baby. Please don’t do this to me. Stay with me, Y/N. I need you. Our babies need you!” Sam pleaded for what felt like the hundredth time that day.
“Damn it!” he cursed as the tears began to fall. Sam rose to his full height, his hands balled into tight fists as he pumped them erratically through the air. His imposing form might have frightened some of the nurses if they hadn’t seen the look of horror and anguish that engulfed his features, or witnessed his unequivocal love and devotion to you throughout the labor and delivery process.
Sam forced himself to heave deep breathes as he observed the medical professionals bustling about your room, running a hand through his hair in exasperation. “Where’s my baby? At least tell me my baby is alright?” he demanded in a shaky tone to no one in particular.
“Your son is just fine, sir. They’ve taken him to the NICU to get checked up but from what I saw, he’s a big and healthy baby boy,” one of the nurses provided with a cautious smile.
“My son…” Sam breathed, looking back down at your unconscious form, “Our son… Did you hear that, baby? Oh, god!” He wanted to take you in his arms, to simply will the life back into you, but the doctors were swarming around your bed, poking and prodding at your still swollen abdomen.
“Sir, you need to back up and let the doctors do their job.”
Sam’s chest puffed up on instinct and he was about to retort when Dean, who had been watching in vain from afar, was suddenly there to hold him back. His hands gripped Sam’s biceps from behind and he pulled his brother back with all the strength he could muster, but Sam would not budge. Dean had no choice but to come around to Sam’s front and push against his inflated chest with both hands, while eyeing his little brother with a pointed look that told him to listen to the nurse, that there was nothing he could do right now to help you.
When Sam finally relented, he could no longer hold back his sobs. He had never felt so helpless, so useless. Dean managed to pull him into a waiting room before he broke down completely.
“Hey, you listen to me.” Dean’s ‘big brother voice’ was in full effect, “Your girl in there, is one hell of a fighter. We have seen her go through hell and back both with and for you, literally. And I know you’d do the same for her, Sammy. And so does she, alright? So I know for a fact that Y/N is gonna be fighting with everything she’s got to get back to you and your family. Just like she always does. I mean, hey, she’s practically a Winchester, right? And since when have we ever let death get the best of us?”
At his brother’s last point, Sam’s heart jolted in his chest. You really were practically a Winchester. And he’d loved the way it felt being able to call you his wife and being referred to as your husband in return.
The next hour passed at an agonizingly slow rate, with Sam and Dean fidgeting silently in their seats through most it.
“Mr. Windsor?” When the doctor got no response, he tried again, “Family of Y/N Windsor?”
At the sound of your name, Sam vaulted off his chair, realizing he’d nearly missed his calling. Hurtling towards the doctor, Sam almost miscalculated his braking distance. “I’m here! That’s me, I’m her husband!” he burst forth breathlessly.
“Well I’m here to tell you Y/N’s out of surgery. The C-section was a success, and she should be waking up shortly. Oh and congratulations, you have another son.”
“Wait, so she and the babies are OK?” Dean checked from his spot behind Sam.
“Yes, we have no reason to believe she or either of the babies are in any further danger.”
Sam released the largest breath known to mankind. “C-can I see her? Can I see them?”
The doctor sent him a smile and a nod before giving them your room number. Sam was off like a bullet with Dean hot behind his heels, but when they reached your door, the older Winchester elected to stay back a little, wanting to permit your new family some time alone first.
You were just coming to your senses when Sam walked in. Adjusting your bed to a seated position, you looked up to find him staring at you, “Sam?”
“Oh, thank fuck,” he exhaled before falling to his knees at your bedside. “You scared the shit out of me, baby. Please don’t ever do that again.” Sam buried his head in your thigh, so you ran your fingers lovingly through his soft chestnut locks, allowing him a moment of reprieve.
When he raised his head to face you, his eyes were red and cheeks stained with tears. “I’m so sorry, Y/N.”
You gave him a confused look, “What do you mean? Are the babies OK?”
“Yeah, they’re fine but the doctor said your complications were most likely the result of previous injuries and the fact that you were carrying big babies.”
You huffed a gentle sigh, “Baby, we both knew there was a higher risk associated with a multiple pregnancy. And of course my hunter background wouldn’t be any help. But how is any of that your fault?”
Sam didn’t respond with words; he merely fixed his watery puppy dog gaze upon yours, which just about caused you to break down with him, but you had promised yourself to always denounce this type of behavior. “Sammy, how many times do I have to tell you? I never wanna hear you apologizing for things you can’t control. And I especially never wanna hear you apologize for any part of who you are, because I am so completely and irrevocably in love with that person that it hurts me just the same, do you understand?”
Sam nodded and you wiped the tears from his cheekbones, beckoning him to stand back up, though his head was still pointed down.
“Hey, I’m OK, alright?” You grabbed his hand, waiting until his shoulders visibly relaxed before adding impatiently, “Now when do I get to see my babies? Please tell me I can see them now.”
“Y-yeah, lemme go bring them over.”
You nodded enthusiastically, feeling a surge of energy flow back into your body at the thought of finally meeting your twins. So when Sam returned, wheeling two hospital cribs through the door, you were virtually bouncing with anticipation.
“You were right, baby.” Sam shot you a handsome little smirk.
“What?”
“We’ve got two boys.”
“Really?” You gasped, the emotions finally catching up with you after all the hardships you’d faced in the past twenty-four hours.
“What? No ‘I told you so’?” Sam teased lightly.
But you were much too in awe for that. “No, just… gimme,” you pouted, holding your arms out expectantly.
“You sure?”
“Sam, if you don’t hand me at least one of my babies right now, I swear to Chuck-“
“Alright, alright, no need to bring God into this,” Sam chuckled, sliding your firstborn carefully into your eager and waiting arms.
“Oh my god, he’s perfect.”
“Yeah? So is this little guy,” Sam had picked up the other infant and was beaming fondly down at him.
You spared a glance at them and giggled at the sight.
“What?”
“Nothing, just… he looks so small in your arms.”
Sam’s entire being exuded radiance, “So what are we gonna name them?”
It wasn’t long before you called for Dean and he strolled somewhat nervously into your room.
Cradling his eldest son in his arms, Sam sent his brother a warm and proud smile, “Dean, we’d like you to meet Robert John and…”
“Lucas Dean Winchester,” you finished, gesturing to the baby boy in your arms. “Well, Luke and Robbie for short.”
Dean’s emerald eyes grew wide and a little wet. He looked back and forth between you and Sam as if to confirm what he had heard was true.
You smiled at him, nodding. “You’ve always meant the world to Sam, and if I’m honest, you mean the world to me too. And I am beyond certain that these boys will grow to love you no less than either of us. Besides, none of us would be here if it weren’t for you.”
Dean was quiet for a moment, and you knew he needed to process his emotions.
“That’s awesome,” he said, though you knew he meant ‘thank you’.
“You wanna hold them?” Sam asked, grinning from ear to ear.
Dean grinned back, then looked toward you.
You held back a laugh, “You wanna start with your namesake, don’t you?”
“Hell yeah!” Sam shot him a mini bitch face, “Sorry, I-I mean, heck yeah!”
Snorting, you carefully handed Dean the bundle of blankets in which Lucas Dean was wrapped.
“There’s just one more thing I wanna say,” Sam’s voice brought your attention back to him.
You gave him a curious look and he seemed to almost blush under your gaze, which only confused you further.
“Y/N, I never thought I’d get to have all this, but you’ve made me so unbelievably happy, and I know it shouldn’t matter, but there’s been something ruminating in the back of my mind ever since we got to the hospital- no, actually ever since we made those fake IDs.”
Now you were really lost, eyeing him perplexedly. You looked over to Dean for some help, but he seemed not in the least bit surprised. In fact, he appeared to be perfectly content, paying zero attention to you and his brother and cooing happily at baby Luke as he bounced him in his arms.
“Baby,” Sam continued, “I know you’ve never really wanted or cared about this, and I know we can never make it a hundred percent official, but- Y/N, will you marry me?”
It was a good thing you were no longer holding any babies, because Sam’s question took you completely off guard.
“W-what?” you stammered, staring at him with large eyes.
Sam chuckled and looked down at Robbie, “I think your mom heard me just fine, don’t you, buddy?”
Your mouth stayed open for some time as you tried to absorb it all.
“Any time now, Y/N. Any time,” Dean interrupted without glancing up from Luke.
“Y-yes!” You finally replied.
“Really?” Sam asked again.
“Yeah! Obviously! I mean, who else would I marry but my incredible, brilliant, tall, and gorgeous baby daddy?”
At this point, Sam had passed Dean his oldest son, helping him balance both babies in his arms, before rushing back over to you. He took your face in both hands and kissed you like it was the first and last time. You leaned up to reach him and run your fingers through his shimmering tresses but you refrained from taking the kiss too far, figuring you’d save Dean the torture given all he had just done for your family.
“Well, alright! Two Winchesters coming in, and five going out. Nice work, Sammy!”
You released Sam and sent Dean a bitch face of your own.
“But- I mean, none of this would have been possible without you, Y/N/N,” he quickly amended, “I mean, who could forget that you nearly died bringing these two to the world? What’s that, the third time you’ve cheated Death now? That alone is enough to make you an official Winchester in my books.”
“Well, technically we’re all Windsors in this hospital.”
