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It was supposed to be a routine hunt. Just some vampires — or vamp-mimes, according to Dean. Easy. The objective was simple — go in, gank some vamps, get out — and return to their domestic peace in the bunker. But somehow, it went so horribly, horribly wrong.
They had a good life after Jack became God. Finally had a healthy balance between hunting and normalcy. Still helping people, but coming home when it was all over. No more God, angels, or the like. Leaving their work outside the bunker. Yeah, they’d lost a few friends along the way, but they still had each other. So they were content — happy even.
For the first time in his life, Sam felt like he had a real home. But like everything else in Sam’s life, that had to be destroyed too. And wasn’t it ironic that out of all the things that could have killed Dean, it wasn’t God or some ferocious demon, but a damn rebar? While fighting a monster they had fought hundreds of times in the past? Maybe they were getting too old for this. But it was too late to consider now.
Sam figured it was his fault. It took over a decade for Dean to convince him that he wasn’t to blame for everything bad in the world. But having Dean die when he could have stopped it? Should have been at Dean’s side, fighting with him instead of taking on a different vamp by himself?
It was too late for regrets. They wouldn’t change a thing. At first, Sam had considered praying to Jack. Hell, he was kind of waiting for Jack to swoop down and save Dean himself. After all, he was God now, and he said he’d always be with them, right? Sure, they’d agreed to return the world to how it should be, but Dean shouldn’t die — it wasn’t his time.
But Sam had promised Dean not to bring him back. And even if it killed him, Sam knew he was right. It never ends well. At least Dean had gone out doing what he loves.
And now Sam was alone. But then again, he supposes that even if he wasn’t — even if Cas and Jack were with him — it wouldn’t be enough. It was never enough without Dean. He’d gone to Stanford to escape hunting and his father, but there was always something missing. They were still separated, but back then he could take solace in the fact that Dean was alive and kicking.
The first few days without his brother, Sam slept in Dean’s bed, before it became too painful to wake up to his scent, thinking he was there before it all came rushing back. It felt like losing Dean all over again. He barely got through the first time, he wouldn’t survive it day after day.
Sometimes, he’d sit on Dean’s bed, and stare at the guns on his wall. Not thinking, just... staring. If he had the urge to take one and use it on himself, he buried those feelings deep down.
When he got the call about the missing hearts, a part of him was glad. It gave him something to do other than sit around mourning Dean. Dean would be proud of him for that.
In the past, Sam had frowned upon going on hunts alone. Too dangerous. But now, he couldn’t imagine doing it with anyone but Dean. Wouldn’t feel right.
So Sam went on the hunt alone, not bothering to call anyone and let them know where he was going. It wouldn’t matter. He packed a bag with the bare essentials, took Miracle, and drove. Every surface of the bunker reminded him too much of Dean, and he wasn’t sure if he would go back.
And if Sam was a little less careful around the monster than usual, no one had to know. It got a good scratch in to Sam’s chest before he drove the silver bullet through its heart. Not life-threatening, but the gash deep enough to risk infection. Sam’s body had become softer lately, his chest area especially sensitive — even though he didn’t pay it much attention these days.
He figured he’d go to the hospital since Dean wasn’t there to patch him up anymore. He told the staff he was attacked by a wolf while camping, so they drew his blood to check for infection, and gave instructions on how to care for the wound. All to be expected.
What he didn’t expect was for them to call him back a few hours later to ask for a urine sample. Said there was an abnormal level of hormones in his blood or something — he didn’t really care — and they wanted to confirm their diagnosis. Sam guessed he probably had an infection or something.
What he really wasn’t expecting was for the doctor to order an ultrasound. Maybe he had a terminal illness or something. Sam hated himself for thinking it, but he sort of hoped he did. Gave him a chance at seeing Dean sooner than he thought.
Sam should have connected the dots, but he didn’t. So when the doctor told him he was pregnant, 3 months at that, it hit him all at once.
He’d been trying to carry on. He’d promised Dean. But deep down, he knew he couldn’t do it alone for long. He was slowly spiraling downwards. Now he had a piece of Dean with him.
They tell him he has options. Options? Like he would abort his baby, get rid of the last piece of Dean he has? Sam isn’t easily offended, but it took an embarrassing amount of restraint to not lash out the staff. He was keeping it. There was no question about that. And suddenly he wasn’t alone anymore.
Despite how easy his baby made it for him, Sam took the pregnancy hard. Somehow screwing this up would be the worst pain imaginable. He would be letting Dean down. So he went above and beyond the doctor’s orders to keep his baby healthy. Maybe it was overkill, but just thinking of how wrong the hunt could have gone — if he’d been just slightly more careless, what could have happened to the part of Dean he hadn’t known he was carrying - had him taking every possible precaution.
From the moment he found out he was pregnant, Sam knew he was done hunting for good. He wouldn’t put his child through what him and Dean endured — especially with how it ended for them. He didn’t resent his father anymore, but he would do things differently. Sam would get a real job, a house, and raise the kid right. But he would also teach them to be safe, and keep their future family safe. Just the basics — how to make a devil’s trap under the rug, salt circles to repel ghosts, always carry something silver, etc. And of course the anti-possession tattoo, once the kid was old enough.
The first time his baby kicked, Sam was sitting in the Impala, listening to one of Dean’s tapes while he pondered what to name his child. He’d never been a fan of Dean’s music, but listening to it now made him feel closer to his brother. Almost like he was sharing the moment with him.
“Hey, baby.” Sam rubbed his belly and smiled. “You like that?” And he felt another tiny flutter. Sam chuckled. Just like his dad. Since he recently found out it was a boy, he’d been thinking of naming the baby John, or maybe Bobby. But now he had no doubt that he was going to name him Dean. And it felt more right than ever.
Dean didn’t know how long had passed in Earth years, but it seemed like only an hour driving the Impala upstairs when he started to feel the pull.
Back when he was young and believed in heaven, too innocent to think it didn’t exist but not knowing how corrupted it really was, Dean used to think that souls in heaven could check on their loved ones any time they wanted. But after all he’d been through, he lost faith in that glorified picture of heaven. So when he felt the pull, he didn’t know what was happening. Was Sam trying to bring him back? But he knew Sam wouldn’t break his promise, so he gave in to the pull and let it take him to Earth.
Of all the places he was expecting to wind up, the last one on the list was standing over Sam in a hospital bed with a baby cuddled to his chest. Sam was smiling softly at it, looking so gentle despite his large frame. And suddenly Dean got it.
“Hi, Dean” Sam spoke quietly. Dean knew his brother couldn’t see him, was talking to the baby — and as proud as he was to have his son named after him — Dean couldn’t help but feel like Sam was speaking to him. He’d been content in heaven, though he never stopped worrying about how Sam would take his death. Now he knew he would be okay.
Sam was slightly hazy from the drugs they gave him, but when he held his baby for the first time, he felt more connected to Dean than ever. Sam couldn’t survive without the other half of soul, but now he didn’t have to.